calculation is null

I tapped his trunk; the syrup was stale.
2001-07-23 03:55:43 (UTC)

Pancakes, tequila, and baseball bats. II.

I closed my eyes, and pretended that someone was belching a
flame thrower at my brow, and that I would be left with
hideously romantic scars that Seb would kiss and lick and
tongue and love me all the more for. Bastard beautifully
smooth and suppley tan complexion.

Snatch.

Pulling on my shorts, I walked down the hallway into the
living room, where Gaz was mowing on a plate of spaghetti
and watching a tape of the NCAA swim championships. He
didn't look up from the TV as I moved into the kitchen and
he asked, "What time did you get in last night?"

"Four thirty or so. Is there anymore spaghetti?"

"Yeah, in the fridge. Seb called about an hour ago. He said
he'd drop by around one." Gaz chuckled as he said this. "I
said that I didn't know whether or not you'd still be
asleep, and he replied, 'All the better.'"

Seb. I love that boy. I think that I turned out gay just so
that I could fall in love with him. Not that a man can't
fall in love with another man without being gay, platonic
love and all, but I mean erotic love and off-spring love
and taxes love and falling asleep in the crook of his arm
having just fucked like I would be dead in an hour love.

"That punk," I said from the kitchen.

But this is getting long-winded. Seb showed up; we made out
in my room; I went to swim; he went to do laundry; I ate a
bowl of hot and sour soup; we met back at my apartment, and
he showed me some CD's he'd bought; and, finally, Neet
called and told me that I had to come to her place before
going to the party because she had just gotten some phat
buddha that "you have got to fuckin' try this shit! This
shit is nas-tay! Yum!", so we got dressed and left.

Fuck I have no stamina. I'll get to the drama in the next
installment.

And I scold myself everytime I say this-- I mean, I
could've gone to Arizona or Georgia and chilled with the
College Republicans-- but I wish to anyone who's listening
that Northern Cali were hotter. The weather's fine, but
it's not fucking fine. Warm, but not hellish. I want my
heat index.




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