I get all fucked up in the head over a boy,
a new one everytime, everyear.
This time it's someone I think is actually worth
something.
I'm not sure what really.
Is it only the fact that he's handsome?
No, it's the fact that he touched me,
no, not that either. It's the way he touched me,
and the way he looked at me, the silly things he'd say.
God, why do I love that boy?
I don't know. I really do not know.
For the life of me, I would forget, forgive, release
it all, if I could, I would.
But I can't. For a long time I wouldn't.
But now I just can't.
And no amount of songwriting will make it better.
In fact, today I realized it actually makes it worse.
I wonder what he'd think if he knew.
He probably wouldn't give a shit.
If I could just find a good boy to love and like
and write real love songs about,
ones that last, ones that don't make you feel
fucking sad, lonely, depressed.
Seriously, what the fuck am I gonna do when
I'm not like this?
What the fuck am I gonna write about? Really?
Like Henry Chinaski. Maybe that's why he did all
them whores. So he'd have something to write about.
Cuz all the good stuff ain't worth writing about.
Nobody wants to read that shit.
Of course everything I just said is bullshit.
I know it ain't true. I know it's not true.
I'm gonna do the November novel writing challenge this month.
I'm pretty excited about it.
I think I will write a novel about my stupid (non-existent) love affairs.
Yes, that is what i will do.
I mean, that's pretty much what Chinaski/Bukowski did.
I'll call it Men.
Perfect.
And perhaps an occasional female.
Ok. Perfect.
Then it can be gay, and I can be queer.
Yay.
Maybe I'll even have sex with a gay man in it.
Yes! that would be so fucking hot!
