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[19 Nov 2004|04:34am] |
And i had high hopes for the night, sexually of course, because her and her roommate were both on my bed with me. Her roommate was massaging my back as she looked into my eyes, trying to figure out how drunk i really was, trying to decipher my lies. It was getting late and as the feature on the home box office drew to a close i knew it was "crunch time" as they say in some parts of this universe.
Her roommate wanted o leave because she was "tired" (she knew i had no interest in her anymore, that i wasnt as drunk as that time early in the term when we talked for hours then ended the night by making out with dashboard in the background, i drunkenly walked her home and lied to her. second nature) As for her it seemed she wasnt ready to leave yet, she asked what i was doing and i said 'staying.' not drunk at all now and the promise of some sort of sexual encounter looming large over the horizon of her setting sun of a roommate, my legs quivered in anticipation (i told her it was from the draft seeping in from my window.)
as her roommate finally exited, stage left, i played it cool, pretending to be drunk talking about the cartoon family with a talking dog and matricidal toddler. after a few minutes of buffer time to allow her roommate to exit the building and begin the lonely walk home of the unchosen, i began my move. It was last call, put up or shut up...to put it bluntly, go hard or go home. my fingers wandered to no avail. i knew she had a boyfriend but tonight i was going to test how faithful she really was, i briefly reminisced about when my paramour explored like this tart was about to, hesitated and decided that i may be That Guy tonight. if i hurt her muscle car driving, facial hair grooming boyfriend so be it.
as my lips touched hers she seemed open for more. our tongues coexisted in the open air briefly before slipping back into their respective caves. once more i kissed her, she smiled so that i could feel my lips on her teeth before she pursed her lips and received my offering. my hands played the show me around as i massaged the bare skin of her back and slowly made my way to the front, up the ribcage to the bra. the unforgiving shells that fel as if they were forged in steel did not give, so i traveled to a more interesting area. it was carefully guarded but her hermetically sealed belt and jean combo but i persisted without much luck.
at this point our hero (or villain) became frustrated. i searched my brain for a reason why this girl would agree to stay in my room yet block me from the physical contact that was almost a hand i would have gone 'all-in' on a mere fifteen minutes ago. i decided that all i was going to get from this whole experience was more research on my college thesis 'girls, logic, and the negative correlation between the two'
as she put on her shoes and i watched her leave it seemed that I was the one feeling hot and bothered. for a girl with the conversational skills of her caliber (slim to nil) i had expected the degree of slutiness to have increased over years of failed attempts at real relationships, therefore desperately clinging to any male who would give her the time of day, a sly smile, and something to chew on.
bitter wasnt my feeling after i looked at the night retrospectively. its probably for the best that i didnt dirty my sheets in vain. a girl at home would be disappointed but even greater a dissuasion...i would have had to wash my sheets and i was running out of quarters.
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[18 Apr 2004|08:51pm] |
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brand new |
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some nights i lay awake and think about death. how am i going to die? what does it feel like? and obviously what lies after death?
will i be trapped inside a coffin prematurely with the oxygen slowly being stolen from the air around me and replaced by venomous oxides. clawing at the wood until my fingernails scrape and split? or will i go in my sleep, the last breath a sigh of relief that the pain of this world is over? either way it doesnt matter. the more you lie awake the less anything matters. when you think about how easy it is to take a life its ludicrous that life even exists. by some random chance my life has taken place.
anyway. the real reason for this update is to flaunt my new user icon. im drinking an O'douls non-alcoholic because i like beers taste, not its apparent aphrodisiastic nature that makes girls appear more attractive to me and i to them. i dont need it anymore...i have kelly <3.
but i digress
'everyone who lives will someday die and die alone' - BN
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[25 Mar 2004|12:11am] |
tonight i had a terrible accident as i was driving home from an acquaintances house after meeting some friends to watch an episode of the teen melodrama The OC. the characters on it think that they have problems...i took a human life tonight.
it started as the car did, with the turn of my key in the ignition. the windshield wipers suddenly flapping, the radio a dull roar. i was a few blocks from home (i guess i was stuck in the moment and i couldnt get out of it, i've got to just get myself together) when i heard a slam-thump. that sound will haunt me on quiet nights. i screeched to a halt and saw the body of the man i killed. he was somebody's son, husband, father. now he was a mass of skin and bones, 21 grams lighter. i panicked for nearly a minute and got my thoughts together. i knew what ii must do. i walked over to the body and felt for a pulse, it was as nonexistent as my facial hair (im 18) and any sign of breathing, but again...nothing whatsoever.
i could see the pool of blood spreadiing its dreadful fingers over the pavement, wanting to grab hold of all in its path. i touched it, warm still i can imagine it running from a blue vein, hitting the unforgiving oxygen and turning red. like the inside of a ripe plum. i tasted the blood, it was metallic as it rusted the innards of my throat. i drank deep and silently, fearing that this man may awake and demand his plasma from my body. at the same time fearing a passing car where i could be exposed by the headlights of shame and insecurity.
after i had quenched my thirst i grabbed the body's shoulder and turned it over in one motion. i looked at the face in disbelief for it was i staring back at me. i was dead, but no that doesnt make any sense. i rubbed the hallucination away from my eyes and saw it was just a homeless man. i had seen him before on the side of the road, waving an olive branch and wishing peace on the passersby.
i realized then that i had seen my face not because i was dead...but because my innocence was.
the blood is still on my hands, what oh what can wash this stain away...from my soul
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| the anniversary of my birth/death |
[08 Mar 2004|10:27am] |
today is my birthdate and people keep telling me to have a happy birthday...
but there's no such thing.
this is just the celebration of the day that i was ripped from my mothers comforting womb and brought into the harsh light of insecurity and lonliness. I long to be back, floating among to liquids that make up my mothers insides, attached to the only woman ive ever loved intravenously.
every birthday something else goes wrong. on my fifth birthday i learned my dad had a drinking problem. he left on my sixth. thanks for the present, good riddance. this year i can finally buy cigarettes, something i can legally addict myself to. i can see the future. its made up of me spending a lot of time alone in strip clubs, paying my allowance out for fake emotion. i dont think im getting any presents today, i didnt ask for anything and i dont expect anything in return. i had a terrible year and the next year will only be worse because, again i will be separated from my mother when i go off to college. oh nevermind, im going to PG. well thats good at least.
another year and the only thing thats changed is the amount of hair that grows on my face...slightly.
happy birthday to me, happy birthday to...
im going to live exactly 18 years...figure that one out. goodbye
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| do you ever think about what happens after you die? |
[01 Mar 2004|06:26pm] |
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boy george and the culture club |
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i raise the question because i saw a movie this weekend that made me question my whole belief system. it gave me knowledge that i never had before and put me in the shoes of someone i'd never truly met before. at times in this movie i wanted to sob uncontrollably, at others i wanted to run into the theater lobby and scream rejoices. movies have a unique way of affecting lives, they delve into the inner most reaches of the human psyche. they have a way of helping us through bad times or celebrating the good. this was one of those movies that did both.
the movie im talking about is of course... Club Dread. it was a visual masterpiece with a strong plotline, well-developed characters, and an ending that most screenwriters would sell their soul for.
i think a movie about the bible came out as well?, i may pick that up when it comes to blockbuster.
in another area of my life, lately ive been having sleepless nights. my eyes bleed from overuse of my tear ducts and my hands are wrinkled from so many wet hankerchiefs. i cry myself to sleep and i dont know why. i need something, or better yet someone to stop this pain tonight.
will you be the one?
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| it's been a long time |
[22 Feb 2004|05:42pm] |
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anything from the musical 'hair' |
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i had taken a hiatus from from this livejournal because i needed to do some serious thinking. i needed to make decisions about life. i have been at a deadlock with myself about a serious decision that could impact the rest of my life. the answer to this question could decide my very social standing, my quality of life, and most importantly...the amount of fine females that will still speak to me after the outcome of this inquiry.
the question that i have been battling with is obviously...cut my hair or grow it out.
the very thought of the barber's steely eyes and the sound of the matallic teeth of that godforsaken invention, the scissors, send an icy chill to the base of my spine. the hair falling in a flurry of tufts around my head as i cringe at the thought of the outcome. i hate the whole process. as you all know during the summer when i got the closest haircut ive ever had in my life i swore off all social gatherings for weeks. on many a night i would be informed of a party but yet i would be scared. ever so frightened of the harsh taunts of drunken testosterone filled bullys. the thought of that summer i lost my innocence makes me think that another haircut may be the end of my life as i know it.
on the other hand. do i dare grow out the very thing that defined me as a person for several years of my life? am i ready to be known only as 'white boy with a fro' and 'screech' again? can i withstand the ridicule? i dont know, i just dont. being a slave to my many mesh hats was alright for me once. but can i return to the state i used to be. going to the thrift store to scavange a trucker cap every time an administrator confiscated my only means of keeping the rats nest that grows out of my head at bay.
well, i do not know, and i may never. i may go mad if i cant reach a conclusion soon.
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| the angel from my nightmare |
[12 Feb 2004|02:51pm] |
even if you are one of those macho types with enough testosterone to fill the grand canyon you have to admit one true fact in life.
crying feels good.
crying is the healthiest exercise known to man. as tears flow down a sodden face not only does the duct let the dam burst forth but also, so does the soul. crying is a like an orgasm of saddness, unmatched by any other function of the body. it cleanses all, it is the salt in the wound. very painful at first, but ultimately sterilizing the wound. i have cried over a girl more than once, but every time she hurts me a good cry is all i need before i can hop on my bike and pedal to her house in the middle of the night. after a good cry the melodies from my guitar and my falsetto croons sound much better. the rocks i throw at her window seem to get her attention much faster, and the rejection isnt as bitter. its bittersweet. crying is nirvana, the only way to get a truly wonderful nights sleep is to cry yourself to sleep and wake up with a damp pillow and a soft memory of the nights nagging and wanton wails.
i have to go right now, but i will update soon.
blood is thicker than water
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| love and basketball |
[03 Feb 2004|08:13pm] |
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the thud of soles/souls on the pavement |
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the floating orb gave off a faint glow as it sailed through the air under the incandescent bulbs. it traveled with a backspin that only a steady hand and a pair of square shoulders can deliver. it hovered above the bright red rim for only a portion of a second and then dropped almost noiselessly into the nylon's gentle embrace. im talking about another thing i love...basketball.
last night i had the chance to don a pair of shorts and a T and gracefully glide through the air and swiftly sprint across the tile floor. basketball is a gift from God meant to let mere mortals glimpse heaven while still living. the greatest joy is the ball finding its home in the cylinder, the worst pain is hearing the clang of rubber on metal meaning the ball has been diverted away from glory. i can liken that clang to the clang of jail bars on an old inmate. he has heard it many times before and yet it still makes him cringe.
i have to cut this entry short, the call of the court is beckoning me (playy on mee...playy on meee, make me whole once again, like you have so many times before. we can have intercourse. a combination of sweat, adrenaline, and my hardwood floor of a heart. give me life...) it said more to me but not so much in words, more in shapes and feelings and colors, as i imagine a baby feels. for i am like a baby on the court, shy naive open. and i cant wait to grow up...
this is me...
fin
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| real eyes realize real lies |
[30 Jan 2004|12:12pm] |
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Number 9 Wedding by Ani D'Franco |
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today's journal entry is aimed at those do not truly believe that I christian krempasky hasser update my own livejournal. some people have been telling me that they think peter, or angie, even ignacio or someone else has been composing these harmonious sentences, bound by the notes of punctuation. literature speaking in treble clefs and creshendos gracefully whisping across the digitally enhanced computer spectrum. to all you nonbelievers i will tell you something that only i CKH would know... joe huba has a small mole on his left inner thigh.
i have a new obsession...gameboy. this small plastic idol has taken the place of everquest (see earlier post). without it i dont think i could make it through the daily hell some call school. as soon as i come home i take off all my clothes, run a bath, turn on the melodic tunes of Enya, and i get in the zone. i sometimes have videogame blackouts where i zone out and 3 hours later i have 10 new pokemon and so many experience points i dont know how i could have ever achieved that in that amount of time. i have a gift...
"im floating down a river....two weeks with out my lover. im in this boat alone."
-incubus
aqueous transmission
i feel like that could be the one defining quote in my life right now. nothing matters, i cant wait until im a bartender. freedom. love. life. death. heart. soul. sole?... yes
-christian 'the duece'
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| there's a thin line between love and hate... |
[27 Jan 2004|10:51pm] |
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the echoes of my heart beating and my hopes falling |
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i feel that i think better when staring out the window on a wintry night such as this. snow falling like so many icy tears from a forlorn angel. the street is freezing, mothers are tucking their children into bed for the sleep of the innocent. they won't know what i know for years and by then it will be too late. the indifference of this cruel world will have already fought its way into their mouths and poisoned their lungs until all they can breathe is hate. inhale exhale inhale exhale gasp...nothing, and that will be sweet release.
you may wonder what set this tirade into perpetual motion. maybe its my own self loathing. or maybe it's him. he masquerades as my friend with his eyes that look as if they can tell what im thinking after a single glance. his tall stature and easy laugh. he makes conversation as the stars make light, as if they were put there for the purpose. hs gentle gracefullness touches everyone, even if subconciously. his compassion and understanding are unmatched, at least in this lifetime.
you may already now of whom i speak but i dare not even type his name for fear of tipping him off to my true feelings, if i even knew what they were... his mother should have drowned him as a baby. this would save all the women who cant have him and all the men who envy him a great deal of trouble.
and maybe my life could be complete, for there is a thin line between love and hate... and on a night like this i play with the notion that maybe i could one day travel far on either side of it. but until that day i can only smile and nod, smile and nod, smile and...
the knife felt so good in my hand
he thought i was joking
i should have ended it when i had the chance...
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| i long for summer and forbidden love |
[26 Jan 2004|01:14pm] |
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the crash of the oceans waves |
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i was meditating this morning and i couldnt help but let my mind wander back into my past. one night in particular came rushing to my memory like a runaway freight train. it was the night i felt alive, the night i felt (or at least wished) would never end, the night of clare's party.
the summer wind was comforting on the long drive. everyone was piled into my snow white bravada. the sweet croons of the Clipse 'Hot Damn' pulsating in the background of real conversation.
when we arrived i tasted the sweetest elixir known to man, smirnoff ice. as i let myself succumb to its warm hug of inibriation i noticed a girl, the most beautiful girl i had seen since my dreams of Venus. i knew that i must have her...tonight. one problem was that she was already necking with Peter, the scoundrel must have known i loved her, he must have known the one thing that would make me stop loving him (if only for a half a moment).
she disappeared for a good deal of time but when i saw her again my heart lit up like a thousand diamonds shining in the fire of passion. i took her to bed where we traded hickies, and our souls. if ever a marathon make-out, this one was for the ages.
i just wanted you to know...
this picture will be etched on my memory until i gasp my final breath, and the last of my blood runs out of my veins onto the pavement.
its better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.
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[25 Jan 2004|11:40pm] |
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It seduced me into its own world of what seemed like constant adventure, but slowly I realized it was just becoming an unhealthy addiction. Nevermind the warnings ...I did what I had to in order to grasp my sweet victory, even though it was slowly pushing me away from reality. But I was beginning to get weak, and I couldn't take the suspense any longer. My pale and nearly decrepit body finally pulled itself from the desk, and I rid myself of what was causing my mind to grow sluggish, my social life to grow non existant, and I hoped to never have to go back to that damaging fixation.
..and this is why I will never play everquest again.
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[23 Jan 2004|09:00pm] |
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I miss the sweet sounds that would project from the soft blow into my shiny new flute. I pulled it out the other day, and played some of my old favorites "lion sleeps tonite" and "froggy goes a-courtin". When I play, my body goes into another state, I make love to the music and feel it through my veins.
Danny and Joe dancing to the melodic hums of my flute.
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