so last night I�m sitting there about to cut this little girls arm off with a band saw, when all of a sudden I realize I haven�t paid my People magazine subscription. I�m running around like a fucking madman in my apartment looking for my checkbook. I�m throwing old, empty coffee cups in the air, ashtrays are being knocked over, magazines are acting like bananas all over my living room floor, and I finally locate the checkbook, and make out a check to the People magazine people, drop it in an envelope, and jump back into bed. I fall asleep, but end up in a different dream, no arms are being cut off in this one though�

I fell in love with Jessica as fast as a guy can fall in love with a girl. She just had to flash that grin once, and I was hooked. Unfortunately for me, she was my friends girlfriend, so nothing was going to happen there. I was getting bored with my girlfriend, as I often do after about�a day. I ended up with this one for over a year, and she ended up messing around with Jessica�s boyfriend, as well as a couple of other guys. One night, while we were dating, I ran into my first girlfriend ever. We made plans to hang out, although I felt slightly guilty about making plans with her, I did it anyway. We went to dinner a few days later. Afterwards, I told her of my new girlfriend, and this and that. We ended up pulling over somewhere and �doing everything but fucking� in the back of this Lincoln Continental. I felt a little guilty. Once I told myself that as long as I never said anything, nobody ever had to know about it. This is how I�ve lived since then. Eventually she ended up with a few of my friends, fucking 4 or something, and fooling around with 6 or something. I never told her about my encounter(s). I never will. I wanted her to feel the guilt that I didn�t feel. I made her feel like the piece of shit she was, and she had no clue what a piece of shit I was. How could this not be the way to go? I�ve lived this way since. People say I�m hard to read sometimes, well, because I don�t like to give the whole story. Honesty is never the best policy in my eyes. I have no desire to know what goes on, and I don�t have desires to tell what�s going on with me, ever. This is why every girl has dumped me in the past, and I�m sure it will keep happening in the future. I�m not holding some big secret life, or bay of emotions, I just don�t feel the need to tell anyone anything�real. So whenever someone tells me something shitty, or whatever, I feel like I didn�t even need to know. I don�t lie. I just don�t bring it up in the first place. Avoid the answer by answering the question with a question. So Jessica, was this attractive punk rock girl who was very fucked up. A complete fucking lush, bright lipstick, nice body, personality like the craziest girl from a Bukowski book or something. Jessica took me down this long dirt road one night in my car. We were stoned, and she was drinking shitty American beer. It was dark as fuck, and at the time, I was a shy boy. She told me to pull the car over, and shut it off so we could listen to music.

�you like me don�t you Chris?�

�Christian, not Chris�

�funny�

�you do don�t you?�

�what if I did?�

�I think it�s cute�

�Cute? you must be fucking high, you don�t use the word �cute� ever�

�I think you�re cute�

�Why am I cute?�

�You just are�

�You�re lying, what is this place anyway?�

�just a road, do you want to kiss me chris�tian�

�this place is freaky, do you take all your men down here?�

�Tom takes me down here sometimes�

�What do you and Tom do down here?�

�nothing�

We left the place after this conversation went on like this for about two hours. I wouldn�t kiss her, as she was drunk during this whole thing. We went down this road a few times when we were hanging out. She was still with Tom, and I know she wanted me, but I couldn�t give it to her. Not because I gave a fuck about Tom, but because she was this great chick, but she was completely fucking crazy, and drunk all the time. I could never fall for someone like this completely. I thought I was falling in love with her, but I was more or less just plain intrigued by her personality, and her lips. If I ever fell for someone like this, it would be impossible, as I need to separate the two people. Like Stephanie. As much as I thought I liked her, it was the her that was with me that I liked. The person I heard about when I wasn�t around was someone I had no desire to be around. I hated that version of her. Jessica was hard to be around. So eventually, I stopped hanging around with her. I was in love with 3 hours of her. The other 21 hours of her was someone I wanted nothing to do with. It�s funny, this sensation. I�ve experienced it over and over.

I ended up on this road one sunny afternoon, years later. It was the fall, and it was a little chilly. I had quite possibly the best, and worst day of my life here. I never told the stories about this road. I never told anyone of the bad things that happened down there. If you go there at night, it�s creepy. I can feel it when I go down there. Jessica, and her ghost with the bright red lipstick. Years later I ran into Jessica, and I was under about 4 glasses of Southern Comfort, and a bunch of beer. We took a drive, and ended up going out a couple of times. Nothing had changed about her. 8 years, and nothing was different. I found out how great of a kisser she was, but found out how even more fucked up she was. I don�t need to ever see her again now. It�s been a couple years now. I wonder all the time how guys handle her.

I woke up and it was sunny in my room. I thought about how it had cooled off. It was hard to get out of bed when it�s this nice out. Those hot nasty mornings, you just want to jump out of bed, this was not. I had remembered a couple of things about last night. I got home and wrote for a couple of hours while nursing some wine, and smoking marijuana continuously. I think I wrote something that had to do with the alphabet. Julia Stiles was involved. I didn�t go to sleep last night until about 4. I cleaned my room up a little bit, smoked some more pot, and fell asleep to the birds and Van Morrison. This morning, I woke up feeling a little better. I had one new voice mail, and my eyes had no red in them surprisingly.

Christian, do you want this

or this

before & after