The Breaking Daylight of the Species

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Sorry.

I haven’t been in the mood to write lately. It’s as if my father’s death has knocked the wind out of my sails. I can’t jumble thoughts together or make a valid point in my head unless I’m pretty torn in half. I guess I’m just preoccupied with things. But even in the face of all of this preoccupation, I got a chance to go out for a walk to get rid of the fat that has been carefully creeping onto my bones since High School.



I got my ass up and out for two days straight. Well, no mean feat, but I got it done so don’t jump up my ass. I could have just stayed locked up in my room, silent as a polecat in an alley behind a Chinese Restaurant. Instead, I got up, took a hot shower, put on some clothes that still fit me, and headed out to the hot New York streets. And FUCK was it hot. The sun was like a mean sonofabitch, kicking ass and taking down names. I wanted to cuss, but what good would that do? That shit is the FUCKING SUN! It would do nothing more than bake me out of my skull.



But the good thing about the heat in the New York summer are the women. New York women. There is just something about them that you can’t find anywhere else on the planet. Well, maybe you can, because I have not seen the entire planet, but still, I love to look at them. They are a source of constant erections. Tall, lean and partially undressed in the heat, New York women seem to be allergic to clothing. I mean, really! I’m walking down the block and in front of me is a woman with a pair of bitchen legs in a dress so short that you can see the bottoms of her ass cheeks. Yum.



Then there is the chick in the tube top. DAMN, tube tops are not out of style yet. I remember when I was in my twenties, and my dick would get hard just thinking of the WORD woman and tube tops, which were all the rave. I would stagger down the block, my erection down my thigh and my slacks jerking it’s length with each step that it threatened to jack me the fuck off before I could make it to the curb. It took all of my concentration to think about dead dogs and rotten meat to kill the damn thing so that I could get home.



Well, this girl missed the memo and strolled past in a tube top, them damn tits dancing with each step. And that’s where it’s at isn’t it. Bobbing, dancing tits. Somehow the bra is the enemy in the heat, thank god, and off they go with tits bobbing like clowns at a rodeo. I would dance to them if those fuckers had a beat. And you know the truth about sweater puppies don’t you? You see one pair of fun bags...you want to see them all. Even on old women with them flopping around their waistline. Shit, if the nipples are hard, you damn well have the hobo’s attention.



And then the stirrup pants that hug those tight, round asses. I don’t know what happens to underwear either. Maybe they don’t wear any. Shit, I don’t, but I don’t suffer from slicing cheese...if you know what that is. Slicing cheese is when the pants go up between the ass cheeks. YOW! It makes the slacks look like they were spray painted on. This, combined with the ever beloved cameltoe...oh shit, you don’t know what the fuck a cameltoe is? Well, it’s like slicing cheese, but in the front, between the legs. That’s when the pussy wants to gobble up the inseam of the slacks. Yeah, tired, but still a lovable sight.



With all this shit going on outside in the summer- time, you’d wonder why don’t I get out more often? That’s because I SUFFER FROM SOCIAL ANXIETY! I feel like something out there is out to kill the shit out of me. Tits, ass, cameltoes, nothing is enough to get me strolling out there on my own. But I do it anway, to lose weight and to get that precious Exposure Therapy.



And that’s what’s really important now, isn’t it? Exposure Therapy. Being around New Yorkers in subways and on the streets and in buses. I don’t know if you think it’s a good idea, but I have ATIVAN now, so I can pop those things and float away on a bliss you cannot imagine. So that who really gives a fuck about hundreds of millions of people dead set to put an end to my life?



Thank god for ATIVAN.

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