Friday, August 05, 2011

More is Less

Fuck - this post still tells it better than E@L could tonight.

~ Delete revision "Bruce In Clarke Quay" #456 ~

E@L is just saying the same things over, different incidents, same story, just not as well.

Did *I* write that post? E@L asks. He is quite impressed actually, though as he is two bottle of Port Philip Estate Pinot Noir down, anything would sound good. Adelaide - great food, who woulda thunk?


"What, is he a lust-sick juvenile? Is he M. Swann, that tragic character, unprepared to accept such behaviour in principle but unable stop himself from loving the bisexual, flirtatious Odette in reality. Is he von Aschenbach on a Venice beach-chair dying a bit more each minute as young Tadzio bathes, tantalizing and untouched? Is he Humbert Humbert, never restful, still chasing even after having caught the not-as-innocent-as-he-fantasizes Lolita?"


"No matter how cynical the man, how adamantine the heart, how cool the blood, how experienced the player, how weary of the world and aware that up between the legs of each female is, as Charles Bukowski explains quite lucidly, just another cunt, and that deep in the dark hollows of that cynic's chest is a flicker of light, a dim glow under a bushell of scar tissue that is the possibility, impossibly, of something close to... something like... love. "



Is there really any need for more on this topic? E@L knows that the person who figures obliquely in it has read the previous post, she has been out partying with him and told him as much, and still she has managed not to have sex with him, despite a 5:30 am finish, so why should E@L persist, either in writing on this topic or thinking further on this person, why bother continuing along this disastrous and sad, oh oh oh oh lookatthefireworksMilly oh oh oh endintears oh oh so sad, route? Why?


Maybe the off-chance of a pity-fuck? A four-stroke relationship? But would this kill or merely enrage the demon?

Neither of us will ever know.




Michael McClung said...

Our Ring of fire sensibilities diverge. But I understand your scorched and bitter(?) heart.

dibabear said...

A mercy fuck would most certainly just set the demon loose. I mean, what if it's good, I mean mind blowing good? The monster would just wake up tomorrow and want more. And then there's all of that emotion attachment. The awkward glances when crossing paths socially, that sort of thing.

No, no, better to cut your losses and pull out now before it's too late. Of course you might convince her that the beard enhances the, no, humor would be a bad tack to take.

DanPloy said...

'pull out now before it's too late'

I don't think he has got that far yet.

Phil, get yourself a hamster.

expat@large said...

From a friend's blog:



And all you can think about is how she could taste like. She’d be like heaven on earth. Water that quenches your thirst. She would fulfill you and fulfill any sort of desire you want.

You think about her picking you up, kissing you on the cheek as your legs wrapped around her. For that moment, it was perfect. She was perfect. She is perfect but you know you’re writing this to make the story more sensational.

Fuck me.


You have to acknowledge it: You like her.

You like her more than any man [sic] you have loved. You like her for who she is. For that sexy apathetic, indifferent, solemn, depressed, realistic yet cheerful personality. You fucking like her and want to fuck her so bad it makes you ashamed..

Oh well.



BTW - there is a lot dramatic licence going on here, and from both sides. I think, I hope, in reality I am not as pathetic/desperate/depressed as I might sound and she is not as manipulative and cock-teasing as she might seem (not sure about that though). In fact I know I am not sad, and that all this is quite amusing really, and I as I intimated in the old post, excellent grist to the semi-fictional mill. However, friends are lining up distractions for me...

Fear not, the E@L stoic sea-wall of indifference to all things emotional (except rage and annoyance) remains steadfast and unbreached despite the onslaught of a 4'11" 38kg tsunami.

Still, a pity-fuck...

Lost in Melbourne said...

One of the big difference between males and females is that for a woman sometimes feeling desired can be an end in itself, for a man just feeling desired is hardly it, more just an opening to the path.

I think that the instance of a male pussy teaser would be pretty low.

Sometimes I value the angst as a reminder that we are still living and functional humans. But somehow I have never fallen to the Lolita fantasy, although in a few years my taste my move down the age scale, for now the post 30th birthday women have my attention, very operational and often past the stage of abuse of power.

expat@large said...

Wouldn't know, never been desired.

A good-looking girl walks into a bar and already 80% of the men want her... and she knows it. E@L walks into a bar and wants 80% of the women there.

Spot the difference.

dibabear said...

See? Friends lining up distractions...I knew this would come with a happy ending. Wait, what?

As for the 80% rule, you're no different than any other straight male. There's just something about a pretty face, tight body and winsome smile that makes me want to look under the hood. Of course I'm stuck in Switzerland this week so it might be a bit less than 80% for me.

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