Monday, February 28, 2005

Be Gentle: A Five Part Essay

yo no seré fisted en el asno!

you know, i really do like the IDEA of school. and the obligation to physically attend class isnt TOO much of a burden. but the doing school work at home part sorta fist ass. no really, its like having to come home every single night and having a fist punching into your tender anus repeatedly until you can perform no other function but watching tivoed episodes of Chappelle's Show while lying ass up on the couch.

often i am asked, "jon, dont you feel great that you are back in school?" and of course, i do appreciate and enjoy the challenge of learning and must also admit that i have selfish reasons for suddenly galvanizing my academic career back into action [the genuine desire to get smarter and the more obvious motive: barely legal teens], but i cant always say it was the 'best' decision i've made. and no, it doesnt make me feel great all the time. so you want to know if going back to school feels great? well sure, if feeling great means having someone elbow deep inside your rectum.

now, i realize that some rather respectful citizens truly DO enjoy having a fist plunging deep into their anus over and over again. so let me say i mean no disrespect when i equate doing homework with something i find as a violent display of unhealthy sexual activity, and something they find kinda tingly. i mean hell, i aint gonna lie, i've fisted a chick. not in the ass, but you know... it was all five fingers and a lil bit of forearm, still... i wouldnt want it done to me. and thats my point: to ME, being fisted in the ass aint cool. to some one else, sure. whatever, bend over and spread your cheeks, i'll be Muhammad Ali and your anus can be Sonny Liston. but im not really into it. its kinda like homework to me.

like, i got a bag of trees right? they is ripe for the burning. but i also gotta write some marxist shit and revise some freudian shit and write some fictional 'ultimatum' shit. pfft. all this shit gotta be done by wednesday night cuz im leaving friday morning. on a jet plane back to cali for a warm week in the west. so i have to GET ON IT right? but see? see? i got these trees! they green and they waitin! they wantin! they need to burn!!! but shit i cant be pipe bombing my brain before i bust the words out. i didnt pay for this shit to get average grades.

queme la quemadura de bebé!

thats where im stuck. im stuck. im stuck. i started it. i gotta finish. ive committed to the project. if nothing else, i gotta get through this semester. ive got to forego all the parties. all the open bars. ive gotta give up on the curves for a bit. the hookers. the seedy mornings with cracked lips and bad breath and one thing on your mind. i gotta say "no." this has to be done for a few more months, and more importantly, for the next few nights. i have to close the deal. sort it out. handle my shit, for the next few days.

and it kinda sucks. but i still try to get into the ol blog when i can. i wont forget about you, black space, neon words, random image on the internet. see, i was finished earlier, i was on the couch, ass up, watching the tube, but i came in here and i thought, if im not going to write anything for school, im gonna write nothing at all to my imaginary readers. and i figured it was worth it. i figured it was cool. i figured, if im writing, im writing. guess ill just have to bend over and take it.

agáchese y tómele ramera!!

Friday, February 25, 2005

a colorado connection

(what next?)

amy is a fire cracker. and brilliant in almost every way. a cute face and a tight body with a mind that will just clown you. she drops jaws. i met her when i was 19 or 20, i moved into a place with her and this british chick named jill. a fat victorian flat. 3 stories up, over looking the city. we could see the fog roll in from the giddy up. amy was in college and her brain was on fire with the world and the country the city and our friends and her cute club outfits and boys. we got along famously. it was instant. she eventually left for south america, and then ended up back east where she went to Brown and got her masters and met her husband and got married and now works at a prison teaching English to drug dealers.

her husbands name is josh. he a good looking, incredibly smart, funny and warm, architect. he truly deserves her.

i met amys father somewhere along the line. he is a powerful story in his self. back when everything jazz was it he stood smack dab in the middle. well, i guess i should say he leaned smack dab in the middle. he played the stand up and shot heroin. he lived it for a bit. died it for another. he met his wife jane [i think thats her name. awesome lady. nurse.] and cleaned up. went to college at 30, got his masters eventually, and started the Delancy Street Project for ex cons in Boston. when he retired, he went to art school in London, with his now retired wife. he stayed there for a year, smoking pot and talking jazz with his peers, now 40 years his junior. this is where he met Enver.

Enver is a British bloke that stayed at my house for a night last fall. it was a favor for amys dad, Joe. he asked if his friend from art school could crash at the palace for a night while he stopped in new york. no worries joe, no worries. so Enver shows up and we click instantaneously. he is smart, and funny. and up for a get down and merges into conversations with ease. we hung out with some friends i didnt know that well at a bar i had never been to in a neighborhood i rarely visited. this only for a while, then we go to one of these newfound acquaintances Soho apartment where we drink more and fill in the blanks for each other and ol charlie rolls through for a wee blast and even more merging. we puff tough on Envers new england stuff then head back to brooklyn, three strangers in tow, to conclude the night in my hood. the evening stayed polite and we cap it off with a xanax stopper. the next morning he was gone and the memories are stellar.

so the drum clinic calls me and tells me that they need someone overseas to send them a package. i guess this chemical ingredient they so desperately need is only found in the netherlands and the company that produces it refuses to ship it to the mainland. what they need is someone on the right side of the sea to get this ingredient mailed to them, so they can then mail it to the drum clinic.

now here is the kicker, i called the drum clinic a few days ago [i was in dire need of some drums] and they mentioned that they had a laptop. and they also mentioned that they would happily part with this laptop for free. well you can imagine my orgasmic reception to this life affirming news. i so badly need a laptop my eyeballs are bleeding. but nothing realy comes for "free." or so at least thats how the saying goes, and it just so happens that that particular saying applies well here. now, they know that i need something, and they need something in return. so they ask, - know anyone overseas?

why yes. yes i do.

its like Denver, but without the D.

(this has been a simple meditation.)

Thursday, February 24, 2005

me so holy

i've been crazy busy. but not too busy to worship our lord.

apparently, this guy has way more time to express his worship.

well done, fellow churchmonger.

Hey, does this shawl make me look gay?

Saturday, February 19, 2005

a proven poison

Mark your calendar or Palm V. You can expect to die on:
Wednesday, June 12th 2041
At the tender age of 65 years old.

some lucky chumps get ta live till they 75. me, i got till 65. guess i gotta speed things up.

oh well.

guess hes gonna outlive me. good for him. and if this prophecy comes true, he should throw my wake; i bet its gonna be a fuckin zoo.

[ive got a nice delicate chemistry balanced here. watch as the funky rhythm falls apart.

it took two klonopin, a few stiff scotch and sodas, two healthy spliffs, two screwdrivers, a shattered glass and a slight hiccup in a loving relationship, but it all gelled so perfectly. a steady stream of words. a neon lamp in the shape of a martini. a string of icicle style christmas lights hanging across the top of the front room windows. it made up everything there ever was. it was the beginning of justice. it was a an easy moment. it was a very casual moment. then it went away. as it always does and always will do.]

it was a tough day at work. nothing i want to bore myself with transcribing though. lets just say the phrase of each passing hour was 'you know, this day is shaping up to be a real lemon."

and it did. that my friends, is a Truism.

after that great sigh i went to one of my main soldiers house and watched this movie called 'Sucka Free'. it was directed by spike lee. i think he's black or something. anyway. its good. its pretty much a small story set within the gangs of san francisco. its not as core as Menace. it aint as concerned with morals as Boyz in the Hood, and it definitely cant hold a loaded weapon to Gang Tapes, but its a pretty good character driven flick about san frans hoods. of course i was all bout it bout it cuz those my ol stompin grounds.. but in the end they kinda wernt. i hailed from fillmoe. the "western addition". most of these cats were in Hunters Point and the mission. and oh yeah, chinatown, which was kinda cool.

then i finally crashed the palace at one. and i come home to gifts. gifts from chicago. gifts from san francisco. black plates. stomping melodies. crackin tunes. six of em. im amped. im ready. im straight bustin a nut in my pants excited.

so i approach the decks. real nervous. anxious. aching for it. that CHOON. give it two me. please. make it swing. make its bass so deep my heart stutters. make the clap so hard my ear rings. make the sounds provide hallucinations. make me weep. please.

so i take the first record out of the first sleeve. my screwdriver is in the way so i set it on a speaker. i dont get the glass all the way on.

CRASH! oh no! precious precious liquor, everywhere. on all the files. the tax papers. the books. the hardwood floor. the magazines. everything.


so i gotta grab a swiffer. im drunk. ok. and i fucked up. fair enough. but dont STARE AT ME DUDE!!! im using paper towels and a dirty towel to sop most of it up -but i better pick all the shit up off the floor. what the fuck am i gonna just smoosh it into the papers? jeez. so first that then the swiffer and the staring. then the kiss. the im sorry. the me too.

[then the delicate balance. and the end of it.]

Thursday, February 17, 2005

or you get the hose again

just a quickie.

this is the most clever video ive seen in ages.

watch it and bask in its subtle brilliance.

"i think i'll make a mask from your right buttock cheek."

heh heh. fucking awesome.

Wednesday, February 16, 2005

harking back [again and again]


i've got this friend back in disco. a good friend. a close friend. not only do we make eachother laugh, but i think she is the only girl that i would say was sexually a 'perfect fit' for me.

she knows exactly what i want when i want it, and she was totally willing to give it to me when i need.

when she gives me head- oh man when she gives me head- its like heaven is on fire and all its burning angels are melting all over my dick. over and over again in an up and down motion. its honestly one of the best feelings i have ever experianced, her blowjobs. she should teach a fucking class.

one time with my dick in her mouth and two fingers in her pussy and one in her ass i asked her breathily, because it was everything that could be asked at the time, "do you want me to fuck you in the ass?"

do you know what this girl says. this gift of a girl. this gentle award of a person. do you know what she says? she takes my dick from her mouth, pushes her ass back on my finger and softly, almost desperately, says, "please."

jesus christ i almost went limp that was so hot, not to mention we were in the back of a car parked in front of the beach. and i love sex in public, or semi-piblic, places.

damn that girl is good. i dont see her often, but when i do its always the same, lustful episode. sometimes, if im bored or ol' girls wanting the dick and im not in a sharing mood, i think of my friend in disco and the numerous moments of pleasure she's provided me. it always works.

and this girl knows this. she knows that i think of her in the shower in my bed in my office everywhere. she knows this and she gets off on it as much as , if not more than, me. she likes that i like to watch her. she likes when i gently nudge her head into my lap. she likes when i turn her over and fuck her furiously and smack her ass and tell her shes hot and nasty and that her warm insides are mine. she makes sure there is a big mirror strategically placed so we can see each others facial reactions, among other things. she always has the right drugs ready. she doesnt hang out to long afterwards. she leaves me wanting to see her again. it is a glorious relationship. a satisfying one. and she ultimately knows the score, so i dont have to worry about the drama.

and she is 5000 miles away. that helps.

man, i totally wish that girl was right here right now under my desk, and the heavens above were shining bright in hot white flames.

that would be sweet.

Monday, February 14, 2005

now i have haloscan

and when you leave comments, its like leaving comments in the FUTURE. doesnt it feel weird? when i first got to the future it felt kinda funny. it kinda tickled. like i was wearing a body suit with an inner lining made entirely of antelope fur. but i got used to it. now i think it feels sexy. yep, i admit it. the future sort of turns me on. it gives me a huge space age robotic boner. really! and when you look directly into my futuristic love lazer, it reveals your reflection. seriously! go ahead, look at it. anyway, so there you have it. when you get to the future your penis [or clitoris, depending on what gender the future determines you will be] will be engourged with blood and it will be a thouroghly exciting yet somewhat uncomfortable ride when you take the subway. deal with it.

Male Chastity is all the rage in the future
thanks to Blanket Jacksons smash hit of 2025
"Deny Myself a Boner Baby"
released on Virgin Records.

Saturday, February 12, 2005


welcome to nightline bitches.

whats harder, starting something, or finishing it?

at first you think its hardest to start. that's your natural instinct. this is because it takes so incredibly long to get something, anything, going. but then once you start, you realize, it is remarkably harder to finish. and only after time, do you understand that it is this inherent knowledge, this predisposed fear, of not being able to finish, that makes it so immensely hard to start in the first place. which begs the question: whats harder, starting something, or finishing it?

take this blog, for instance. when i began this blog i was in a [chemically fueled] lucid transformation that, coincidentally, befell the changing of the western year. thus, making my subtle growth [from average target market audience of urban twenty something up and comer to average target market audience of urban twenty something up and coming blogger] a symbolic metamorphoses of the spirit. time had changed for me. i was a new person. a BLOGGING person. i was an anonymous word in a vast cyberspace painted any color i chose. i was a BLOGGER. i wrote BLOGS. i was a new man. a blogging man. [blogging men like to wear fur coats and prefer mittens to gloves. i dont know why, but we do. so dont look at me funny, im just following the rules bro.]

then i started school.

well let me not shit on education for a bit, because it really has done me no harm at all. it is fine. i take it in eagerly. it is a strange, almost EROTIC approach i have towards my academic jaunt as of late. i am serious about it. i am proud of it. i like it. i want to fuck it. i want to HAVE ITS BABIES. OH GOD SPANK ME ADVANCED COMPOSITION I WANT YOU SO BAD ARRGGHAHAHAMMM [thats the sound of me ejaculating on my keyboard in case you were wondering].

but it can be time consuming. so fucking time consuming.

luckily, the sizzle and his ol lizzle came through just before the scholastic rush. with good spirits, they rolled through the cold, white, midwest tundra to brave a weekend in brooklyn. when they landed i posted em in a local gay bar lurking in the work hood. two fers till nine. i got there at seven, we knocked back a few. catching up a bit. laughing [sam has become quite the mine. you just keep digging, and he keeps on giving gold.]. it was a blast. we sparked mad hot cherries. stomped through the city in search of threads. even went to the rub for some party time theatrics [the rub DID NOT disappoint]. all in all a brilliant time.

[then there was some old news trying to be new news, but im just the newscaster, i dont decide what gets on the air. try again next week honey, and this time, make it more entertaining. maybe you'll get a shot on the late night edition of the broadcast.]

and alex, my main soldier holding down the miami fort, decided to pull the plug on this years WMC bash. the sponsorship money didnt come through in time. i was supposed to play there too. side by side with some funky house jokers from DC. that sucks. i was looking forward to dropping the hotness for those beautiful miami mami's. sluts love dj's. and i would have exercised my newfound popularity appropriately. oh well. no big loss. alex had never thrown a WMC party, and he made a valiant effort this year, but in the end it just couldnt come together. maybe ill still go. if for nothing else but the fat round view.

ahh man im getting tired. im gonna watch some porno. later dude.

Wednesday, February 09, 2005

gettin it over with

Blog [icily]: oh hello jon, nice of you to join us.

me: hey whats up. yeah, sorry ive been so distant recently.. you know... been super busy with school stuff and work and my friend sam came through for the weekend, it was his birth-

Blog: yeah whatever. i dont need any excuses

me: excuses? what? whats wrong?

Blog: nothing. nothings wrong. just forget it.

me: yes there is, i can tell. somethings wrong. tell me.

Blog: i told you. forget it. nothings wrong. im fine.

me: [sighs] so what, you are just going to act cold to me. its been what- a week since we last saw eachother? and this is what i come back to. a cold, passive aggressive-

Blog: thats right jon its been a week! a whole fucking week! and you couldnt post anything? not even a funny picture or a clever anecdote from your childhood? huh? you had nothing to say, thats what youre telling me? a whole week and nothing. youre friend came to town and what, there wasnt anything to say about it? nothing of any note happened? is that what your telling me?

me: its not that ive just been-

Blog: busy. yeah, i know. ive heard it before. youre always 'busy.' pfft. whatever asshole. and what, if you couldnt post then i guess you couldnt read me either. is that right? you cant even read me? you cant just check on me to see if im still up?

me: nah baby. i love reading you. and i love posting up on you. i love to update you baby. its one of the only things i truly care about.

Blog: then why dont you?!? jesus christ jon dont you know how this makes me feel? you dont even read me! you dont even look at me let alone update everyonce in a while. do you even understand how that makes ME FEEL? [sobbing] whats wrong? what? are you ashamed of me? is that it?

me: no no no. not at all. im proud of you. i think youre wonderful.

Blog: then why dont you act like it every once in a while? we hardly spend any time together anymore. you used to update me every day. everyday jon. now its what, once a week, twice if im lucky?!

me: [sighs] look, this weekend ill give you a nice long update. ill talk about sam coming to town, alex canceling the WMC party, how school is going, hookers, drugs, paranoia, everything. ill even post a few hot asses. ok?

Blog: [sniff] you promise?

me: yeah baby. i promise.

Blog: big brazilian asses?

me: huge, round, magical asses of every race.

Blog: ok.

me: now, i have to get to work. ill see you soon ok? and here, here is a little gift to tide you over till then.

do these shorts make my ass look fat?

Blog: thanks.

Wednesday, February 02, 2005

commercial break

damn im blaze.

[note: this post will not make any sense at all]

so anyway, im BLAZE.

toasted. blitzed. twisted. baked. burnt. stoned. faded. blizzled. bent. zooted. gone. in heaven. blunted. high. did i say toasted?


i just started typing cuz i wanted to push that other post down. force it into the past. i wanted to be fresh. Fresh. like suede pumas in '85. like nothing else. i wanted this post to be the new hotness, as my ABSOLUTE IDOL, will smith would say.

sup bitches. im will smith.

sigh. will smith is so cool. i love when he says, "do you hear the words, that are coming out of my mouth?!" to that chinese guy. cuz the chinese guy doesnt speak english, so cant clearly understand what he is saying. hahaha. hes so funny! oh will!

ANYHOO, so i just had to keep it hot. and put somethin else up here. i mean, im like, the only one that reads this shit anyway. so if I get bored, everybody loses their job.


but seriously, how long was you gonna look at that chicks ass anyway? get over it dude. theres hella ass out there. she wasnt the first nor the last one. [shit, that chick will prolly pop up again. knowin that skank. fuckin poppin up ass skank. with her nice ass booty n shit, makin me feel all warm n horny. shoo. stupid skank. haha. just kidding. i love you skanky! call me!] still, its no worries, ill post some more asses. its cool. dont get uptight lil buddy. dont start chafin your shaft. here, take some lube. warm up, it'll come.

but for real though? that chick had ass right? you saw it and you were like "GOD DAMN SON!" and put your fist in your mouth. yeah i know. fatness yo. no doubt. squiggy.


did i tell you i was kinda stoned?
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:gray matters: by jkg is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
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