No luck getting Edgar to come out and play this weekend...
I wound up at the Anarchy Library in Downey...drunk off my ass...a henna tattoo of an iron cross on the inside of my left forearm...wearing a Ramones T-shirt, jeans and sandals...I stumbled into the ladies room to pee and text in peace:
me: I wanna see you. I'll be out all night. Let me know if you're feeling sinister, handsome.
No response the entire night. Nothing...nada...just silence.
Sometimes I just wanna scream...corner him somewhere and yell into his face..."YOU'RE SHORT, YOU'RE HAIRY, YOU HAVE A SMALL PENIS AND YOU TALK WITH A LISP...STOP IGNORING ME!! I AM A SURE THING!!"
There's no nice way to broach the subject...I suppose I deserve this shabby treatment, too. Feeling this way is about the best revenge the universe can have on me. God, I just want to kiss him again and again. I want to kiss him until there's nothing left. I want to fuck him until everything feels right again.
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