I thought of her today...

I thought of her today. Pais. I was watching Daybreakers, and there's a girl in the movie that I'm not happy to say, didn't end well storywise. It's awfully easy how anything can trigger oneitis chemicals; it's like a needy serotonin kind of. The girl in Daybreakers was found running away from confining normalcy. Her hair and smile, her rogue confidence, it all reflected Pais; probably in ways that I'm overimagining.

Pais, the girl I've made such a mess about on 20sb, the facebook girl who deleted me. I thought about finally sending her a message. I thought about keeping in touch. But, I know me, I'm far from ready. Not that I'm ready in context with my social venusian whatever you call it. But that I'm not ready as a man, or a man boy, not a child who sleeps at his sister's house 5 days out of the week, not a boy who spends his days reading and his nights writing. Not that boy. I'm just a weak pathetic young man, who can't take anyone's advice seriously. There's nothing to show, there's nothing to DHV. I know as time persists, anything I send her will be amounted to needy and probably brushed off. I know. . . actually I don't know. Because I don't know...

I just don't know. This rant has reached it's way into an objective crisis, and I just don't know. Whatever I do, I'll probably not end up anywhere. Whatever, I do, should move on and cut it all out, force it all out. Change thoughts, keep busy, it's the only thing I can do. But, now I'm ranting with no particular direction, and I don't like that. I don't like talk.

I like forward movement. Planning. Initiative. Something that I didn't have when I started this blog, and it's something I don't have as I'm closing it. I need a plan, which entails that I'll also be thinking about her. Pais.

A Much Needed Open Window

(Mar's story)

"Remember when I was little?" I asked my sister as we were on our way to take a pit stop at the house, "Remember how I use to walk back and forth in the parking lot, and that was my favorite thing to do."

"Yeah, I felt so sorry for you," my sister replied. For that second I could feel honesty crawling into my lungs admitting that I too, felt sorry for myself.

I use to walk back and forth in the parking lot of our old condo. It was in result of being the youngest out 6 children, and everyone wanting to play their hand as the disciplinary. After I realized that they took away my video games, my action figures, everything, I was tired of giving them that chance to take things away from me. I slept on the floor of the living room, I got yelled at when my mom tried to give me food, I was a pathetic boy in a pathetic world where everyone took everything I wanted, including all the bits of hope, away. It all resulted in me spending some of my best years as a child, in the parking lot, alone, thinking. My sister buys all these toys for her daughter, ultimately always reminding me that she wants to give her baby all the things that we never got as children.


* * * * * * *

On the map of California, you'd find me in Richmond today, a supposedly "okay" place to be. Without mobility and having my sister drive me everywhere, it's kind of like middle school. But, it's also kind of like better than real life. Staying here lets me keep hold of my sanity. It's basically rehabing. My sister and I agree on the same things at least some of the times, and being able to agree with someone gives me that sense of knowing that maybe I am doing something right. My sister and I being ten years apart, but being from the same home, kind of reconciles a well balance of differing generational interest and harboring a keen sense of comfort.

I tried to read Angel's Game at the nearest Barnes and Nobles. As soon as we got there, my sister with her baby were planning on sleeping in the SUV. I was by myself. I'm sure I burned through 2 sets by going direct and freaking them out. It goes to show, that meager compliments aren't always the way to go when attempting to satisfy someone's distinct willingness to be infatuated. Behind the cafe register stood two compellingly attractive women. One brunette, with an almost crooked yet adoring smile. The blonde, who's cleavage spoke of a glistening lustrous convection, stood politely encompassing boredom. Later there was also a brunette at Ross with adorable features worth mentioning. At every store there's that one amazing beauty, that girl you'd wish did porn, that girl you felt had no idea how incredibly delightful it is to be standing in her presence.

There's nothing to do in this city. I could feel my imperfections in the game eat at me. Why couldn't I do things correctly? Is it the direct opener, should I change my approach, what? Am I conveying the same type of fun, in your face, confidence. What?

There was a time a few months ago, when I walked into a Starbucks after finding a lack of social opportunity at the nearby bar. I never really gamed at Starbucks; the only time I gamed was when it fell right into my hand, either sitting next to each other, or being stuck in line with each other. I saw these two guys who I was acquainted with back in high school. When a girl with her, most probably gay, friend walked into the store, I made a bet that I could pick the girl up. The bet was on, I walked in, introduced myself to the gay friend, and told him that I felt that his friend is absolutely beautiful. Kino, cut, number, left walked out to find them still sitting on the patio furniture, amazed. Another girl walked in and one of the guys said, open that girl- it will entertain me. I went in, walked up to her, asked her if she was a Cancer, spinned words, twirled her, sat her down on another table out on the patio, wink winked at my betting adversaries, talked, waltz, twirled again, paper and number. Those were good days, burning confidence like it was second nature.

Today with my lips shuddering, my fingers shuddering, and my mind on several planes accomplishing absolutely nothing, my game just isn't what it use to be. I walked through the aisles, Angel's Game in my hand earning a severe reading disinterest. I passed by the sci fi section, ornamented with the suttle appearance of a blonde with her scarf and her black and white plaid rainboots. I walked by, the hindering voices of failure telling me to leave, do not approach, you suck.

"Nice boots," I said shivering like someone who hasn't done this over and over for the past 2 years. I kept my step walking, it wasn't because it's a technique used to display a lack of interest, but because I wanted to avoid losing at anything.

"Thanks," she replied steadily.

I was just about a step or two away from reapproachable distance, I was about to go. "Could I ask you, are you libra?"
"No," she said a hidden captivating interest bestowing in the borders of her irises.
"Oh, I kind of felt this libra.... like energy when I passed you." I could feel my feet tingling, moving away from her. Not technique, just instinct.
I felt her quietly gazing at me, wondering what I was going to say, or how I was going to explain myself. I was starting to feel stupid.
"I'm a scorpio...." Her eyes shaped. She hooked. I HOOKED! I fucking hooked her.

From those unpractical statements, everything pulled together. I took her hand, telling her what the length of her fingers meant to her organizing skills, leaving my eyes to bathe in hers. I pointed out the freckles on her neck, asking her that if I touched them, would I get infected; a suttle neg with an edgy intent to discover her with careful delicateness. My fingers gently touched the bumps on her neck, and slid across the bumps on her arms. I felt the permission to feel comfortable, but only because she was comfortable.

Her face awoke the same sentimental reflections dawned on past targets, Ava and Pais. The feeling that I could sit in a car for hours talking about nothings, just like Ava. The belief that I could do no wrong, just like Pais; before I did do wrong. The feeling that everything would eventually fall into itself, that same ease, that same feeling, I also inhaled from Mar. Her name was Mar. The way her eyes tilted when we talked, the way her lips gently pulled into a smile, all spoke the underlying blanket of friendship. It wasn't work, it wasn't push pull, it was just two people lucky enough to cross each other's paths and immediately find everything inside of each other leading to trust.

We glided from story to story. We talked about how I worked for porn, as a content writer, in the vibrant defining occupation of a writer. She worked for a publisher. I felt kind of weak, kind of dumbfounded, standing in front of the girl with a big girl job, and me talking all big about the exciting industry of porn. It's not a lie, I do or did work for porn before the website ran out of work for me to do. Eventually we talked about being intercepted in the Sci Fi section. She was looking for a Sci Fi book, I told her about my book, Angel's Game, and the imminent literature and crafting of words. She seemed less interested in what I was reading other than me.

"Okay, I need to ask you a devestating detrimental question which will determine whether or not this conversation can move forward," I asked.
"Ummm sure."
"Twilight, your opinion?"
".... no." she said indefinitely. I rolled my eyes away, curling my legs away from her, leaving her in the sci fi section alone, as she wondered what she said wrong.
"So last March..." I said coming back to her. I told her about how I auditioned for Twilight. Great DHV story. Although I lost a target which was a pretty sure thing, because of this gambit. That girl, Tricia, ended up disliking me and thinking that I was a total sci fi geek for saying so.

"I've seen the movie, but that's because my sister's totally in love with it," Mar said applying a ceasefire or some type of approval. "I more came just to, y'know, talk."
"Oh I so hate you," I replied with glossy eyes, "You're exactly the girl I came to the theatre with, she would not stop talking, every 3 minutes was 'why,' or 'sparkle sparkle." I could see a smile slowly manifesting as the story went on.

Our conversation was becoming evident that we couldn't just stand here enjoying each other's company. Mar had to leave to find the book she originally was looking for, before she was well intently vibrantly derailed. As we stood in front of the customer service, I could see my sister gesturing to me that we had to leave. My sister would rather prefer it if I didn't go off in the hopes to suggestively engage other women. I had to leave, I had to push conclusion. Hey we should make friends, I said talking out of my ass. She agreed happily, but after she left me her number, I made the mistake as to ask for her facebook too, deeming me needy. I pulled her arm in, reached under her other arm, and hugged her, leaving her with the customer service guy who didn't look all that interested, but evenly looked AFC.

I left, the keen outline of her face fading into the back of my mind; in a good way. I wasn't optimistic after that rigid number close. I could feel the dark blue thread drawing attention away from an almost perfect red silk.

Outlined in Sunlight

The plan at the last door didn't work. I went over my plan in my head, rewording my agenda. I was to come in, pitch my speech on breast cancer, mention the part about women's undergarments, and the rest should free fall into itself. It was a devious conniving plan to get laid, as I made it door to door in the apartment facility. Every door was a possibility, I just had to sell myself. I stood in front of the door, the space between me and the wall seeming smaller and smaller. The door was already open.

She was laying asleep in her studio apartment. Her bed placed in front of me, horizontal from the door. Her sheets casually covering several inches of her almost naked body. She was small. A small brunette with blonde tips. The fabric of her light neon green underwear peaked out from her white satin sheets. I came down onto one knee, hovering over her face. I muffled a few words, asking if she had a minute or if she could talk about a fundraiser. Her sleeping face heaved comfortably; smiling. Behind closed eyes, she awakened. I went on with my spill.

When she stood, naked in front of me, her soft skin and small breast outlined by the afternoon sun escaping the blinds, I could feel my lungs tighten. I panned the papers out on top of her study desk. I could feel the slow caressing flutter of her breath when she spoke into my ear, "You seem nice, not a lot of people are nice to me."

I stopped. My hands tied themselves up centimeters in the air, away from the papers in front of me. I could feel her naked shoulders curling closer around my neck. I turned to her, grabbed her face, my lips embracing hers. I took her across the floor to her bed, her hands clasping the ends of my shirt that she pulled off my back. I lifted her neon panties off her hips as her legs bridged on top of my shoulders. Her body, fully dipped in glistening golden sunlight, heaved as I slipped into her folds. I could feel her breaths inhaling the sweat on my neck. I hooked my arms around her back. I dug her hips into the bed. Her legs wrapped across the bottom of my spine. I pulled her over, her knees sinking into the bed sheets. Her blonde tips swung on top of her back, as she plunged her face into the mattress. I pulled in and out of her body. Tiny drops sliding down her thighs. I tugged at one knee to bring it up so she was on one knee and one foot. I angled into her, my dick sliding across her walls. I could feel the sweat of her butt stamping my pelvis. Into my hips. Back and forth into my body. Her body into me.


I could hear my niece. Her jolly playful voice as she ran across the living room. I felt my eyes awakened underneath their lids as I thrusted into my sister's living room couch. I was dreaming. The whole devious agenda, the sunlight, the girl; well the sunlight was real. It was all a dream. I could hear my brother in law as he walked back and forth from the kitchen. I was so embarrassed.

a cold night in may...

"If you're not going to buy something, you really should leave."


Her words reverberated back and forth in and out, ringing in my bones. I stood under the clouds; standing over Ocean Beach. My thoughts tethered over thoughts of failure. The cold. The deep dark gray smeared across a deep blue sky. The ocean reflecting the same sorts of sentiments. The charcoal sand. Me. Being a PUA. The cold. I let it all eat at me. I let the sad, ice shiver of failure crawl up my back and into my neck. I let it all eat at me.

-May 25th, Krista

Nothing Special.

I don't remember her name.

I don't remember a lot of things about the nerdy girl I met several days ago on Friday at Barnes and Nobles. I don't remember the strict following of words that were compiling to make up our inadequately enchanted conversation. And yes, I don't remember her name. I felt like walking up to my car to grab my charger, to plug in my dead battery phone, turn it on, and then see if I saved it, which I'm sure I did, but probably didn't, but I realized that would just be dishonest.

After I said hello to her, we talked about several subjects such as her current move from Florida, I think her ex boyfriend, actually nope. No exboyfriend talk. I told her about my little stitch as a model. She use to be a high fashion model, with vibrant dresses and such and such. In a teasing manner, I commented on her red and black horizontal stripes on her sweater, condemning them as Freddy Krueger attire. She laughed, she laughed a lot, but still in a very shy slightly content manner. No brain orgasms, no achieving heavenly stories of fun, no, none of that. Just a conversation. I felt that I put too much strain on the eye contact thing. I felt like I was wobbly in my confidence, and I'm afraid of women. I suck. She looked like Anne Hathaway, and when I proposed to tell her who I thought she looked like, she already knew. After what felt like a little bit over an hour I left her to study. Number closed, hugged, and left. Nothing special.


* * * * *

I went on to text both Amanda and Havoc lookalike with the same text:

*Text: What's your facebook page so I could write dorky innappropriate things on your wall.

The latter didn't text back. As for Amanda, I didn't receive a text by her, but I did walk into her at a mall close by the same day. She told me she just got off work and just saw my text. Nobody can find her on facebook because of her very common name stacking other Amanda's on top of her.

Bookstore Possiblities.

It's hard to wake up in my old house. My parents house. The air tickles my throat attempting to kill the oxygen running through my lungs. With every breath it feels like prickly splinters of glass riding inside every inhalation.

I just got back from Sonoma, Napa, and Clearlake, with my friend Nathan. I didn't have a place to sleep last night. I do, I really do have a place to sleep at night, which would be my parent's house. But, that would mean sleeping in a hole that my parent's have made called home. Long story short, my mom's a horder, and my brother is, well, pretty much an 8 year old boy who sees something out in the world and decides to bring it home. He's around 30 years old. Delapidated is an understatement.

I went to bed early last night, somehow sleeping before the Late Show with Carson Daly finished. I woke up at 8:45 to the throat prickling. I got up, took my shower, and got in my car with no direction, but every excuse to leave.

I ended up at Barnes and Nobles, being that I promised myself to read a book by Jean Chatsky that would further acknowledge me on the boutiful yields of saving the money I don't have. As I was grabbing a small cup of water in the mini cafe which they usually have at Barnes and Nobles, I noticed the girl at the hand off station. Not in a lusty smitten sense, but a memorable one.

"Hey didn't you go to *blank blank* High School?"
"Yeah, I did go to *blank blank* High School!"

Her name was Amanda. She didn't remember me probably because she was a Junior when I was a Freshmen. We talked. This being somewhat a forced set, I let the conversation run it's course, without making any sudden risky maneuvers. Forced sets are people you have to talk to, or have some minor field of acquaintedness, such as the ugly nerdy guy you have to talk to at school because he sits next to you everyday, or the really hot chick you wouldn't get the privilege to talk to on regular terms, but since you work together in a tiny environment, you have to.

"20 ducks says your a virgo," I said after she got her several frappacinos and lattes. I was walking her to her work nearby.
"Nope," she said disregarding the duck remark.
"Okay, nevermind then."
For a moment she smiled somewhat hopeful in waiting for me to guess again, "I'm an aries, are you into astrology?"
"No," I said conivingly blunt.
"I use to be into astrology," she said, "But it's so vague y'know. . . ."

We continued to talk until we found ourselves stopped next to the entrance of her work building.

"So me and my friends are throwing this bonfire next week, and you should totally come," says the foreplay of every marginally successful number close used when lacking substantial amounts of comfort and attraction.
"Oh I'm actually going out of town next week, I'm going to Oregon," she said, as I still held my phone.
"Oh cool, I actually just got back from Sonoma like yesterday,"
"Awesome how was it?"
"It was cool," I said. I held my phone in front of her, "Here put your number in my phone," says the more dilberate encompassing phone pass which also keeps open a large margin of success. She put her number in, I called her, even though she didn't have her phone with her, hugged her, and let her get off to work.


* * * * * * *

I ran into an old church friend when I came back to Barnes. We had lunch at subway, was charged for Spinach twice which pissed me off because the guy originally placed 3 sorry looking leaves on my sandwich. After lunch, Josh and I, Josh the guy from my old church, sat next to each other without saying anything as I got through several pages of a Jean Chatsky book, before he left. I walked over to the ***** nearby, and hit on the girl across the counter. Being that I worked there a long time ago, our conversation kind of resembling a duplicating meaning to a forced set. Number closed, texted, Metro phone wouldn't let me text her, came back to Barnes and hit on a girl with a boyfriend.

"Hey," I said tapping the back of her baggy hooded sweater, "I got to say, I think you're incredibly beautiful."
"Oh thanks!" It's the sort of reply you get when you throw out an under genuine compliment.

Very felt direct openers, or complementary openers, suck everytime you don't use a plotline to it, one that builds a more dramatic uptake. That's why there's steps; you pull on the arm, take her away from where she currently is, if she's walking stop her, and then tell her why you stopped her. I just saw you from over there, and I gotta be totally honest, BAM! We have perfect landing for a direct opener.


"I'm Jon!" I said stretching my hand out in front of her."
"I'm * * * *, I have a boyfriend."
"That's awesome," I said sarcastically. This is terrible game. Even if she had a boyfriend I should be on my best foot. "I'm guess the really baggy sweater is his?"
She laughed histerically, "Yeah kinda," she said lifting a smile.

I went on to pick up Angel's Game, the next book on anyone's list who has read The Shadow of the Wind. I took the book to the table nearest to the next attractive girl in the whole store. I believe she just sat down, making my approach now, seem rather annoying. Gotta read, gotta read, guy comes up and talks to me, DAMMIT! Don't want that now, do I. I don't want to open too many sets it the same environment, because that just looks terrible and shallow.

As I read I engaged a stunningly hard word, that's used quite frequently in writing. I'm not a great reader, I'm not even close to well read. I try my best not to sit next to a dictionary because it keeps me from being captivated in the flow of any book. However, I felt like grabbing a dictionary, so I did. I asked the attractive girl if she could watch my stuff, and she said yes, so I left. I could see baggy sweater girl perched on the floor by the music books. I've basically lived here, so I know where everything's at. In the next aisle, the Astrology slash philosophy aisle, I was hoping to find a dictionary, but instead found another HB knelt to the level of the lower shelf in the philosophy section. The girl was a simple more smaller proportion. Her jacket read Northface, brown hair, light tempting skin, all things any guy thinks about when they're gawking at someone they don't know.

"So you're taking philosophy?" Yep, it's hunting season.
"Yeah, can you tell?" she said looking up at me, her face was one of those sparkling lit up faces. Her bright skin, teethy smile, and auburn hair, spoke in glistening sparkles.
"Kind of, so what school are you taking it at?" For a split second I can identify myself as interviewing her, "SF state?" Cold read, that's better.
"Yeah, how'd you know."
"Because I went to City."
"So, what's that say about me going to State?"
"You look smart, or smarter than me," I said blundering consciously, immediately wanting to punch myself in the face with a refrigerator. The rest of our conversation was condemned to awkward interview questions. I pulled out the phone number foreplay, but for some reason didn't even go for the number. She was leaving, it was awkward, whatever. Cheap number closes, number closes deprived of comfort, aren't my thing. Or maybe they are, but I should really stop doing that and shoot for an obvious more playful tone which should already pull the number close for me. Gotta be aware of "Buyer's remorse."

Buyer's Remorse: It's a real word actually. In PUA usage, it means when a girl gives you a number, or kisses you, or has sex with you, and regrets it, because you either didn't build comfort or a real connection.


I went back to my book, dictionary'less, next to the attractive nerdy girl. After several minutes, several pages, and very short chapters, I crept up and finally went to open her.

"Hey," I said tapping one end of her table. She looked up at me with anxious confused eyes, "I'm just about to leave, but I got to say, you have this very adorable nerdiness to you." Her head sank back as she let out a pouncing laugh, "So who studies on a Friday night?"
"Oh I have a final on Monday," she said.
"You're studying. . ." For a minute I thought about the direction I wanted this conversation to lead. I stared at the large textbook laid out in front of her, An Astronaut" I should've said Spaceman.
She laughed, "No I'm working to be a nurse."
"Really?" I said tilting my head suggestively.
"Yeah," she replied.

"That's original."

I nervously pulled up a chair next to her and told her to take a 10 minute break.
"But, I've only been studying for 15 minutes," she replied.


(To be continued)

Opening Pandora's Box

It was still night at Nathan's parent's house in Clearlake. 3:15am. Nathan laid on the other sofa in the living room. Thoughts must've flooded into my dreams within several minutes of settling my head down. I don't know how, but I was thinking about the episode in Friends, where Chandler's dating Joey's ex girlfriend, and as Chandler walks into her apartment, he finds the pants of another man flung over a chair. I just can't take it. Those thoughts. The idea of another man with someone you want, someone you once had. I try to tell myself, it's a universal piece of living, how everyone has sex and I just got to get over the fact that people move on.

It's unfair how many thoughts can loom the breath of oneitis. The eager pointy thought cutting you open. How Pais is gone. How Megan's gone. How many others are gone. It's the curse of being a pick up artist. To know that someone is listening to their soft pulsing breaths. Pressing their thumbs across her damp breathing skin. Stretching her naked legs. Opening her. And taking her, over and over. And her enjoying it. That's where I'm stuck. I'm stuck realizing the acute inevitable. Because I failed. Because I wanted to be with her, and I can't. And I tried. I really really tried. I tried to be who I wanted to be, I tried to be who I already am. And the more I tried, the more I still have to move on, meet women, lose women, and deal with the inevitable thought that one day, she'll be gone, and I'll wake up at 3:15 in the morning, hating myself for trying.

No Game at Bay to Breakers.

I went to Bay to Breakers yesterday. Bay to Breakers, is another one of those San Francisco things wear every either dresses up like a banana or puts stickers on their boobies. It's much like Lovefest, Gay Pride, or any day of the weekend at either Broadway or Castro.

Nathan and I were standing on minutes worth of sleep. That night, I laid down on a hotel cart behind the counter of his work trying desperately to grab some snooze. We were in the car driving up Market Street pulsating our way through cars. As we drove by, my open window was the voice of insidious barking and suggestive rousing. As we passed a bus stop, a girl wearing a blue wig caught one of my suggestive lines and yelled something along the lines of needing a ride.

We pulled over, I went out, I ran up two blocks, pulled her arm, asked her if she needed a ride, and just like that I basically pulled some girl off the street along with her two other friends.

It got complicated when those two friends had history with Nathan, history where Nathan tried desperately to ignore them, as he did make out with one of the girls before. Neddy, the nickname for the blue haired girl, jumped to the front while we were at a stop light, pulling me out of the car, and into the backseat, all so that she could smoke a cigarette.

She argued with Nathan for not giving her a cigarette, she argued with Nathan for being an asshole, she argued with him for being an obnoxious, ignorant, bullshitter, right before she grabbed his face and kissed him. The moment split me in half inside.

"See that boy, don't you be thinking I'm in love with you now," Neddy said. Nathan had a girlfriend. He undeniably stated that since he did had a girlfriend that he would make the effort not to cheat on her.

It seemed like forever to get there. We stopped at Central Park in Haight to take excrete bathroom appropriate liquids. Nathan and I stood in front of Neddy, covering her from the public.

"I'm going to kiss her," I said to Nathan, applying the fact that he has a girlfriend who's in Europe, but has expressed her love for him.
"Go kiss the blonde girl!" he replied. Are you fucking kidding me.

Neddy got up, her brunette unshaven crotch nearly exposed. Not exactly the best place for a kiss close. Not exactly enough time to be complaining. I grabbed her body, lifted up her chin, swiftly got through the process like it was work. I pulled into her face as she laughed, ramming my lips into her teeth. "No you can't kiss me. . ." She called me inconsiderate when I took the passenger seat back.

We started bickering again. Fucking beggars always want to choose. "You're an ass Nathan," Neddy said, "But your cool," she said lightly clasping her hand on my shoulder. I ignored her. Rolled my eyes, and flinched.

We finally stopped on a random street a couple of blocks away from several hordes of colorfully painted people. Neddy got outside of the car, as I attempted to try one more time. I don't want to be needy. I also don't want to see my friend who has pathetic game try to one up me by taking the a free ride I payed for. No, not that feeling again. Not that feeling of being used. No.

I got into the car, and waited for them to leave. They were still wondering if we were coming to the party they were heading to at 10am in the morning. I waited as the blonde tried to persuade Nathan. Antoinette, the girl we called Neddy, stood idly on the street corner. I just wanted this day to end. Antoinette walked over to me and placed her hands on my face through the open car window. Her lips held mine. She smiled before she kissed me again. We drove off to attend the actual event of Bay to Breakers. I could see the smearing of magenta lipstick brushed off my upper lip.

The event itself was okay. I ended up mooning several people, flashing my dick once, and witnessing several women peeing on trees and bushes out in public. A lot of old naked men, no women. Cupped a woman's breast. And seeing a girl I sarged a year ago that didn't lead to anywhere. The event itself was a terrible place to be sarging. You wouldn't want to fall in love there, because the women would view you as the emotionally scattered party douchebag. You wouldn't want to pull a drunk intoxicated girl, because the sex would probably be terrible, and more importantly, regretful. Within a few hours Nathan and I were exhausted and left.



* * * *


The next morning, I sat on the stools set around the small kitchen table circle.

"Dude, what the hell were you doing kissing that girl," I said.
"Don't be jealous. . ."
"Yeah, you took something that I wanted."

Quiet.

"You have a girlfriend," I said.
"She kissed me."
"So you didn't kiss her?"
"No. .. "
"So if she commanded you to destroy half of Mexico, and she would destroy the other half, that means you didn't destroy Mexico?"

. . . I got a pity kiss. Me sad.

Minx's Story continued

I quickly pulled my pants off as Minx sat into the sand. A couple walked carelessly as they were about to cross my path. There wasn't enough time to pull off my socks. I needed to catch them. I pulled my shirt off my back and started running.

It might've been too dark to notice specific details of the naked man who walked in front of you and your girlfriend, but I'm sure they weren't examining me. I drew my legs back and forth as my dick whirled in every direction. I yelled, as if I already hadn't caught their attention. They gawked. Tried to ignore me. But in the dim lit night sky, I could see their eyes following me as I passed. I cut in front of them, turned around and wooted loudly as I ran back to Minx. I could see Minx laughing as I came back, my private parts freely exposed as I dug at my clothes.

"Why aren't these pants working!" I said as I tried to impale my leg through one pant leg difficultly, my gentle parts still very exposed.
"That was awesome," Minx astounded.

I pulled my shirt over my shoulders, and my belt was just not working. "Okay, your turn," I said to Minx as we made a deal for this monumental effort. Minx smiled as she said okay in agreement. I told her to wait, as I still could not get this belt to work. I buckled, snapped, and tidied my shirt up. Okay now I'm ready, I said. She smiled.

There was no one around as Minx turned away from me and raised up her shirt, exposing herself to the wind. She yelled out a wailing fun time, and then turned to me and lifted her shirt again, openly showing me her breasts. I stretched my arm forward, pressing her breast, a vibrant smile hiding behind her ruffled up sweater.

"Aren't they perfect," Minx exclaimed putting her hoodie down, "They're like the perfect portion and the perfect nipple size for my boobs."
"I didn't exactly see your nipples because it was dark." She stopped to lift up her sweater again as I further examined them.


We sat on the beach wall where we both took off our shoes and released the sand that gathered into them. She had dark green nail polish on her toes which fashioned sand in between each crevice. "This was fun, I'm happy you totally didn't rape me or anything."

"Yeah, me too," I said as I pushed her shoulders back into the cement block we were sitting on. I slid deep between her jeans and pushed her hips into the wall with my hips over and over. We laughed. She acted along throwing her head back and making corney sex noises. I saw the open lining of skin from her neck to the top of her chest as I ran my tongue from both ends. She giggled in inappropriateness. I knew in a flash moment, that in between the night sky, stars, and beach reverie, this would definitely be the place to kiss her, this would be that time to draw her lips up, take the fun down for a serious deafening quiet, as I slowly crawled my lips into hers. But I couldn't be that guy, not to her. I do believe if you put me in a room with any woman I'd find a way to make it work, but Minx and I shared a depth in companionship. One where we felt our own and could be ourselves. There's only so many instances when I could meet this specific hope in detail. I rolled off of her and tied my shoes laughing. I pulled her by her forearm to start walking with me, but she slid her hand down into mine as they intertwined.

"I've been there," Minx pointed at a windmill risen above the height of trees bordering the sidewalk.
"Woah, I've always seen that since I was little but never actually been there."
"It's actually just right there," she said pointing to an open pathway off the Highway.
"Is it right there or is it a far walk."
"It's right there."
"Could we go there real quick?" Minx had to go back home, we promised each other maybe just an hour of humiliating fun time, and we were actually heading back to the car as we spoke.
"Sure," she said, as we drew a tangent.

Minx told me about the arrangement of different flowers surrounding the windmill. How the windmill was big, and how it was right off the path. It was all those things, the size, the beatifications, the logistics. It was just a genuine part of me, that has sincerely seen this place over and over peaking from the tops of trees, and now astonishingly was unraveling in front of me, that, in kindled me.

Minx stood in front of the windmill walls staring at a hollow fixing that wasn't far from reach.

"Bet you I could fit in there," she said.
"I bet you, you could."

She pulled off her backpack leaving it on the ground. I asked her if she wanted a boost and if she wanted either a onezy or a twozy being my hands to push her up. She chose onezy. She pressed the bottom of her shoe on top of my hand, and jumped up grabbing the hole. I pushed and lifted her until she was sitting with feet dangling off the whole. She crawled into it to prove the fact that she can indeed fit in there. For a second she sat in the hollow as we were both thinking the same thing. "Damn, I wish I had a camera," Minx said.

I piggie banked her off, and landed her on a nearby bench over looking the highway in front of us blanketed by an orange glare from street lights. We talked about this scary movie that was interrupted several times. The movie was Shutter, and I was hoping to get to the ending, but I really only watched the ending, and I was trying to bullshit my way through a setting and plot. We thought there was an even more scenic bench in front of us, and as we walked to it, it was obvious that it was just overlooking the street. "Wow, this isn't magical," I said turning back into the dark grass field across from the windmill.

There was a rock border that was pretty much covered with plants. I sat on an open edge as Minx scoured about looking for another emancipated rock. I motioned my knee as a seat, lightly tapping it, and telling her to sit. She did and across from us was the windmill looking away from us, it's propellers in quiet stand still. The dark clouds that held the night sky parted directly above the head of the windmill, opening a stream of illuminated stars, much like a dark blue encompassing river.

"Hey," I said knowing I was going against agenda as I fed off the moment, "We're friends right?"
"Yeah, of course."
"Okay, just for fun," I gave it a brief second and looked up at her, "Can I kiss you?"

It wasn't shabby dialogue but it was obviously sort of nervous rocky unfluid motion leading into it.

She struck her head back acting momentarily in disagreement. I pulled her face with my finger to the side toward mine, and as she dropped down to reach me, I felt the wet lining of her lips and the raw metal side of the pin of her piercing. The kiss close dialogue was rocky, but I needed to convey that I trusted her not to look into this as more as what it is. Even if I wanted her, in the way that I was hoping her emotions were flooding her brain, I just couldn't have it or apprehend in an honest voice of feeling. If not intimate, we could seize hopes to stay where we were.


I tried to get through the rest of Shutter as we embarked back to the car, but it sucked. It was a sucky movie with an almost trippy ending, but it was a lost cause. Minx showed me this convenient way to hold hands as friends where her index finger poked through in between my ring and pinky fingers. We started talking about relationships, the conversation that was doomed to impale itself even as we defended it from killing all the fun. Her story was that she has several suitors, not the exact words, that hoped to be with her next in line to be in a relationship. She even had this one guy who would be quite infuriated if he found out she was dating anyone. She just didn't want all that boyfriend drama. The story I told her, not the one that I'm a pick up artist and for some reason couldn't find my way into a quality relationship wasn't all that appropriate. I told her that I was at my age where I just wasn't going head first into all this relationship crap with everyone I met, I'm just not into that type of drama right now. She fully agreed with me, however she tried to amend her way into other hopes.

"I mean, I don't want to say that this could never evolve into a relationship per say."
"Are you seriously pushing some relationship crap on me right now,"
"No, no I'm just saying..." I exaggeratedly sighed as I curled my right arm across the nape of her back, and clasped my left hand onto her right, waltzing and twirling on the sidewalk pavement.
"Are we seriously dancing?" she figured.
"Yeah. Just saying what?"
We continued to talk our way through this relationship subject, as she worked her way into some type of Bella Twilight impersonation in futility, pronouncing her inability to dance. For a brief moment we practiced kissing as friends, and not some horney couple trying to rip their tongues into each other's mouths, but instead tiny affectionate split moments where our lips would touch in sustainable intimacy.


"WALKING IN THE ROAD!" I lyrically implied as we finally reached the same block our car was parked.
"Yeah just like the beatles..."
"Yeah, I guess," I know and listen to the Beatles, but I haven't really taken Beatles A.P. 101 yet.
"Y'know walking in the road, having sex in the road," Minx said, "We should totally have sex in the road."
"Yeah we should," I agreed fanatically.
Minx let go of my hand, "Okay!" she said as she pulled off her hoodie as I watched her small fingers work the buttons off her pants and her flannel shirt. I was playing along, unbelting, and unbuckling, actually in undeniable shock that I was nervously realizing that this girl was seriously unbuttoning her way into nakedness.

She looked up at me and smiled. She pulled her pants back up jokingly, as I tapped her butt and hugged her.

"Slow down, that's my house right there," she said as we narrowed our way outside her house. I lit the hazards and pulled out of my car and told her to wait. She stood idly in front of the passenger seat, as I took her body into my arms. She laughed holding onto me. I slowly and rockingly carried her to her front door; her butt slipping deeply in between both my arms. It was goodbye time.

I kissed her twice, the first time she shuttered and I told her that it felt like rape, so we kissed again, this time with her moving into my lips with ease.

"I'll see you soon," she said, as I walked out of her metal gate.
"You wish."
She laughed.


As I walked into my house exhausted, I turned on my computer, there she was, as if she was waiting idly by, to meet with nostalgia.

Me: Hey there...
Minx: hahahah you miss me?
Me: Well it's been a few minutes.

Me: I smell like sand.



* * * * * * * *

Minx's Story

(The stars are out tonight)
Well I currently joined 20sb, and started a hell of a mess over there, so I've been busy with that. I got a cool little speech going on, maybe I'll repost that here. Other than trying to save my ass on 20sb, I've been on Facebook and watching the first season of Friends. Yeah I'm productive and it's a wonderful life.

So Friday.....


I looked in the mirror and I was losing weight fast. Being sick for a week has not done a lot to help my hyperthermia. My nose is all red and crusty from the endless wiping of tissue heaven. That little vertical valley between my upper lip and the bottom of my nose, that's the most statuesque. Other things like haven't been shaving, losing about 7 lbs, and fucking up my own hair by mis-cutting it, isn't exactly entailing my best self.

It was around 5:07pm when I woke up to an unruly un-Godly mess on 20sb. Like woah! And being that I was sick and have no available friends, I decided to meet my old friends at church. They have choir practice on Fridays. I pulled up one of my v necks, my red sweater, and the nut hugging pants that Nathan lended me months ago. It's 7:25, and I think they get out at 7:30pm.

I use to be part of this church. Katie, aka DatemeDC, tells me I should stop talking bible talk in my writing, so the short story was I use to be part of this church and quit because I felt like it wasn't the best fit for me. I went over to the church, the door was closed so I peaked through the door slit to see everyone sitting down for choir practice. Long story short, I went to the bathroom came back in 3 minutes and everyone was gone. I threw a tantrum. I hate this God stuff, I feel like it's fate telling me I really don't belong here, just like how I felt when I left this place. Moving on.

I drove over to their house and nobody was home. I drove home hoping that I wouldn't get pulled over for having my highbeams on, or not signaling, or not having insurance on my car. I must've called Ivan about a 8 times, every single time I hit his machine. I parked my car at the grocery store next to my house, and as I called Ivan again and again, he finally picked up. He was at work the whole time, and he was heading over to a church party, and felt that I shouldn't be part of it. It sucks to feel like you to belong to a religion. Moving on.


So Friday....

I called Alex, this new PUA that I haven't met. He told me about a party that was happening in SF. I'm usually wishy washy about all these PUA's I meet up with. They usually suck and it turns out to be a total waste of time. Alex seems cool, he seems like a connector. He told me he'd call me back in 11 minutes.

I've got into the habit of adding people I don't know, preferably in the area that I'm in, on facebook to try to bulk up my facebook from my original 17 friends. I also am getting into the habit of not brutally bombarding them with sexual contexts as I have learned, that it seems fun, but it's not the way to go on facebook.

To be continued... Tired.



Writing continued, May 9th 2010.

Her name's Minx.

I intercepted her while adding random people. She left me a comment saying, "Well hello there," I commented back saying "Well hello hello." I usually leave my online facebook status offline so that people don't get the idea that I have way too much free time, which I do. I turned it on, and found her.

We talked about how our birthdays were so close to each other and what that means in zodiac relevance, and Immediately we started talking about really deep stuff. Not deep as in emotionally deep, but logically deep. As I was refraining from using a very sexual frame, we ended up talking about politics, and whether or not we would wipe off world hunger and famine or all war. I wish I had the chat history saved, but being that it was on facebook it got deleted.

She chose to wipe off all war because she felt that disease and famine need to happen, people need to die, and disease and famine are natural. My next question was actually if she preferred PB&J over smores, in which she replied that she likes PB&Banana's best, and that she does like smores despite that she's not a fan of marshmallows, with several suggestions, rice crispies, smores, and hot chocolate. She obviously couldn't make up her mind. The really big thing that she was really behind was flourishing the progression of school systems, and pushing knowledge. I can't remember her exact words but she felt like a lot of people do not learn anything from the present school system and that it was unfortunate. Since I felt that this was a close value to her, I brought up one of my very close values. I asked her whether she would push the school systems, or be able to wipe off all mentally handicap deficiencies. She still chose the school systems, because she felt that if the school systems were working up to a great potential, then we would find a cure to all of that. I kind of see where she's going, but if I had that wish today, right now, I would choose the latter. Education will always progress, whether fast or slow.

Alex never called. He said he would, and in someway I knew that he was going to flake. This is what happens when you don't have enough comfort, both with men and women. They flake.

* * * * * * *

It was about 9:34pm, the night was dark, the stars were out, and it was Friday. I wasn't at a club, I wasn't with friends, I was alone sitting in front of my computer, and somehow I felt like Minx was doing the exact same. She had told me earlier, that she's been out this whole week and today was sort of her off day. Even though that maybe true, PUA arts teach us that same excuse when it's evident that we're not busy on a Friday and obviously bored.

Jon: It's so pretty tonight. Tonight's one of those nights where you go to the beach and walk from bonfire to bonfire under pretty little stars.
HB: I live like 5 blocks from the beach.
HB: Where in Pacifica do you live.
Jon: What beach are you near.
HB: Ocean beach.
Jon: Oh, well that's not in Pacifica.
HB: Oh it's like 5 blocks though, I can literally walk to the beach from my house.
Jon: So how about it.
... there's a minor pause, the same pause that I hate, that follows after the obvious detrimental questions, where every second seems like an eternity.
Jon: I mean we did go to the same High School and we practically have the same birthday. We're practically cousins. (The Arts describe this technique to be disqualification.)
HB: Sure I'm down. lol.
Jon: What's your number.
HB: **********

I called her. She said the word, "gee," and I typed it with a question mark and heard her laugh over the phone.


* * * * * * *


Minx. I know I never really belonged anywhere back in High School being that I was a Cross Country runner, really built, emo, and coming from a Middle School in which I was suicidal. I really didn't fit into a ready High School persona. Minx on the other hand, was a punk girl, the type of girl who owns a hoody with the silhouette of a skeleton, has died her hair several colors, owns probably two beanies that she wears religiously, who's drawings look vividly like brightly colored yet almost as depressing as any Frida Kahloe painting, and has probably written some type of horrible poetry at some point of her life. Yet, almost always, these are the most interesting type of people. A deep portion of me can relate to that person.

I grabbed a cookie from home and stopped for gas on the way to my house. I ate half the cookie. I got lost on the way over to her house. Great Highway is a long road right next to where I want to be with no right turns. I wasn't going into this with the same mindset as I have so many times before. I wasn't going to push kino, sexually escalate, in hopes to progress into sex, I wouldn't even say I was going to slow play this. I hoped that today, I wouldn't let my physically demanding hopes get in the way, today, if I could only not kiss her, be friends, and earn that presence with her, I could hope that she wouldn't befall a hello goodbye type of history. The same history which has become regular to me, and which almost always is honestly very heart wrenching.

Minx walked out of her house a shadow amongst the midnight. I walked out of my car, the hazards clicking on and off, and met her in the middle of the street. I held my arms open for a hug as she wrapped her tiny arms around my back. We had that specific feeling built, a genuine feeling of, 'I feel like I've known you all my life,' sort of thing, and I wanted to keep that. I wanted to sustain that.

"I got you half a cookie..." I said as she sat into my car.
"Ooo cool!" Before I knew it, her bubbly cheeks were moving back and forth as she ate.

We talked over question games, a lot of ones I don't remember, and she replied saying that she always does this, plays question games. Every so often our easy flowing conversation was interrupted with standard direction enquiries. We talked about how there's a Great Highway, and the side street closest and parallel to it was also called Great Highway. We parked there, climbed up a small hill, got to the main Great Highway, crossed that, walked over dunes that none of us have ever walked over, and witnessed several people climbing on a metal structure that was erected on the beach.

"Maybe we could go ask them if they know Ned," I said. For a minute Minx looked, and for that moment she was actually thinking about it.

The plan was to come up to different random bonfires and say that I'm here with Ned. Ned being the guy that no one obviously knew. Plan B was to come up to those same bonfires and I would say I'm here with Minx, and she would reply by saying I'm here with Jon. It was GENIUS!

We walked on the border of the ocean, the part where the shore provides a slightly more petrified sand to walk on. Minx commented on the appearing of the stars and how they're usually not out. I pulled a routine out of my canned material, simply because the shores were perfect for it. I told Minx to stop for a second, to turn around, and as she did, I remembered the actual order of the routine. I told her that we need to walk first, and so we did.

"So picture this, you're in a white room with no windows or doors, how would you feel?"
"Excited!" Minx replied.
"What the hell?" I said in uncertainity.
"Yeah, well I'd feel excited."
"Okay," I said moving on, "What's your favorite animal?"
"Well that's a hard one," she said hesitating, "I would have to say either rabbits,..." a long series of random animals, "And banana slugs.
"Well if you had to pick one ultimate animal over all the rest, which one would it be," I said in reply to her trilogy.
With a hint of hesitation she replied with rabbits.
"What's your favorite color," I asked.
"Purple," she replied.
"Okay," I pulled her shoulder and turned her around facing the ocean, "Okay so you're standing here in front of this beach," I placed my hands directly over her eyes, "How do you feel?"
"... dark." She laughed.
"I mean, really, how do you feel feel."
"Cold." she replied.

I told her the answer to each one and what it means for her. I moved on and actually pulled the routine where she has to get say the wrong answer to every single question. I got her at question 4.

We talked about approaching different bonfires, but then found a bonfire that was sitting alone. We sat down and talked about people we use to know back at our same school. She knew this girl named Kate, a girl I actually dated last summer, who was thee most uptight, hard knuckled, virgin, who as one person said when I described her on TAF, that she was holding onto her vagina for dear life. She knew people that I knew, and talked about this one guy who I currently talk to a lot and go to his concerts. Story was that her brother dated one of his friends and he had a crush on her and ultimately professed it, but she was dating someone else. Something complicated, and I don't know.

There was a point where we were talking about stomachs. I forgot how we did. I forgot how we ended doing a lot of things. I remember pressing my nose against hers, and that happened. And I told her that I was really into stomachs and she sucked in and pulled up her shirt exposing her tummy, and I asked her politely if I could kiss her stomach. I pressed my lips on several parts around her belly button, and told her I had a boner. It was true. I had her kiss my stomach and she did. Then I reassured her that we were friends, and just friends.

There were nets on the beach, and we ended up playing on them. I laid on her stomach for awhile. I told her to lay on the net and picked her up by pulling up one side of it. It was a soccer goal. I then tried to cover her with layers of netting. The top of her buttcrack peaked open from the top of behind her jeans. Immediately I shoved amounts of sand through her backside. She moaned in anguished and laughed. We ended up sitting in front of another bonfire guessing what type of things we see in specific chucks of wood that were slightly ignited into orange specs.

"This is like perfect streaking time," I said.
"Yeah it is," she replied. Yeah, I wanted to see boobies, and yeah I wanted to see nakedness. Not that I was bored, I was having a jolly good time. But I just felt like doing something naked.

We walked out to the shore of the beach to get away from the bonfire people. We picked a spot far enough from the people to come steal our clothes, but close enough to see what were doing, but at the same time far enough so that they couldn't take a picture.

"I'm not doing it," Minx said as we picked the point where we would do it, and was ready in running position.
"Really," I replied.
"No."
Okay.

We ended up walking further some more.

"Okay, if I streaked, you have to flash the ocean..." I said making a deal.
Minx thought about it. And thought it about it some more, until she agreed.

(To be continued.)

Texting Melody

(Waiting on the World to Change)

It's wednesday. After hearing about Cinco De Mayo, and checking my facebook for any updates, Finn's, the only happening bar beyond San Francisco and in my reach sent out status update hopes that there would be something there. It was nothing. It was weak and terrible, where you could hear everyone's conversation below the terrible kareoke deftone wannabe. It blew, end of story. I walked to my car, 2 beers and tipsy, and started heading home. My butt vibrated. I tilted in my carseat to pull my phone out of my back pocket. It wasn't a call.

Hey shotgun, hows ur world? :)

Melody. Melody the girl I met on the Greyhound several weeks ago. Italian down to Earth Melody. For a moment I thought about driving to Sacremento. Getting an apartment, settling down with a girl I don't know, walking around in a towel as I would kneel down next to her sleeping body under the white sheets that happen to feel light as air. Coming down to her forehead and lightly pressing my lips against her face. However, that's not PUA talk, and I should really get real with myself. It's not going to happen if I constantly thinking about the future. The tense moment of now, will be blocked off by hopes of a future.

We continued to text each other while I was driving and getting pulled over. I wasn't getting pulled over for texting, I was actually getting pulled over because I didn't use my turn signals to take a right turn, and my high beams were on because my headlights broken. Fucking retard cop. Melody I continued to text:

Me: Shotgun, really? happy cinco de mayo!
Melody: Whodalaa! Lol! In the middle of something beautiful person, or whatever that lady said lol. U just popped in my mind n wanted to text kiss you.... (She was recalling the girl that called me Racially Beautiful)
Me: EEEEK I'm getting pulled over
Melody: W.t. F! Be careful cinco...
Me: Uggh, I got a ticket for having my highbeams on.
Me: Okay so I'm home now, what r u up to Italiano? (This is really bad needy text game)
Melody: Goin me mes. I'm pooped out. Sweet dreams lover boy... x.o.X.O Lol

I closed my phone and watched the end of SWAT; never liked the movie, and about 14 episodes of friends.

- Trig

P.S. I will get back to the Greyhound story. My mind has been really friend, I have no idea why. It's not being challenged.