083018 got, obvs, a lot on my mind what with school starting, the new full time load, etc, so this may not be as beautifully fleshed out as some of the ones from earlier this summer, but i am, notice I *am* dragging my ass out of bed e’en though I *really* didn’t want to. let’s avoid talking about the guy who pulled the taser hooks out of his own pectoralis majoris for a minute. let’s idly complain about stupid stuff first, like how i woke up at five because the pee woke me up pretty much as usual but then i woke up at six because my STUPID OBNOXIOUS ASSHOLE NEIGHBOR turned on his STUPID FUCKING MOTORCYCLE AND LET IT IDLE FOR MINUTES BEFORE DRIVING AWAY ON IT AND IN THE MEANTIME HIS STUPID FUCKING CAR HORN ALARM THING STARTED BEEPING LIKE A MOTHER FUCKER THANK YOU FOR THOROUGHLY WAKING UP THE ENTIRE HOUSE AND HALF THE NEIGHBORHOOD YOU PLYWOOD-HEADED FUCKING GIT. he finally left and then my nose kept me up for a while and then the thought of all the stacks of stuff i have to do kept me up for a while and i started making a mental list of everything i have to get done in the next four days and honestly it seems ALMOST impossible fell deliciously asleep JUST LONG ENOUGH to hear the beep and hit snooze. twice. and REALLY WANTED TO A THIRD TIME BUT I WAS LIKE GOD DAMN IT, “succeed or quit” and fuck. For some reason I chose succeed, even though I still have no idea what this is even for. Why am I exercising this particular muscle. I don’t know what the end game is yet, or if there even is one, or if I’m just stalling reading the rest of the book because I’m afraid if I know what the next step is I won’t be able or willing to take it. speaking of muscles, did I mention the-- no! not yet. Um, let’s see what else we could stall with. there’s this faint tingling in my oh, um well. i had this fantasy that i asked my neighbor to shut off the motorcycle and instead he made me get down on my knees and suck his long hard lean impudently curved cock. jutting out of his stiff unzipped jeans. his hand on the back of my head, guiding me firmly, tightly, thrusting oh, ok, great. now you’ve typed that. congratufuckinglations. you might as well talk about the guy who ripped the-- the thing about guys who rip the taser hooks out of their pecs and continue yelling about the cops, cowboys in other words, is they’re undeniably sexy. women know it, men know it, but the latter don’t want to admit it because it’s dangerous to do so, and many of the former don’t want to acknowledge it because it makes their life decisions look questionable. this is where the high popularity of the cuckold fetish comes in. it’s men’s access to men like that if the men like that aren’t quote unquote gay. but no matter how elaborately you develop the idea of fitness for a particular environment, the rich successful flabby lawyer is never going to be a match for that kind of raw strength. short term, long term, i don’t know. Yes, the whole coyote thing. Yes, pulling out the taser hooks doesn’t make you bullet proof. it doesn’t stop the march of time and progress. winning the battle and being a superior physical specimen, having that original poetic energy doesn’t make you a match for the entirety of mainstream society, doesn’t mean you win the war. unless it does....... we’ll see. in the meantime, men like that are basically harrison bergeron. Note that in real life, harrison is not an unequivocal good guy. when that story spills over the veil into manifestion in quote unquote real life, it becomes a more complicated story than our pampered minds make it when all we have to do is read it from a safe distance, from this side of that veil. in the real life where real people die and yell and fight and pull taser hooks from their chests and continue to yell at the cops, that story is a little more dark, a little more dangerous, a little more disturbing, and a lot more sexy. makes me want to get down on my knees and suck and bend over and be fucked to make choate my position in this game. i guess i shoulda been a bonobo he says trying to make himself sound less like an abject faggot which is what he longs to be. in the real world, harrison bergeron might not represent the ideals of clean, pure, natural-gas-burning creativity for its own sake. he might instead rise to the top of the quantum cream on a tide of resentment about land rights, grazing fees, and a family tradition that’s never even been accessible to the majority of people. but remember, the creative force and the destructive force are... one and the same? it finds a way. it’s a hot thick rope of hard pure energy, and it finds its line from the other side to this side. wherever there’s the slightest crack, it bursts out in slow motion, like a weed. it grabs hold of your cock, your head, your wet mouth, your chest, and if you can’t pull it out, you have to just bend over and take it, and give in to it, and love it, and do whatever it says.