Forgive me if I start typing nonsense and/or yelling. I'm drinking cough syrup like it's some kind of freaky green immortality elixir that tastes of black licorice and hate. Weee.

So, yeah.

Jerkface came over Friday night and May and I were trying to learn how to knit. Actually, I was trying to learn how to knit. May, the crafty harlot, got it right away.

Anyhoo, we were going to see a movie but Jerkface had to put the smack down on some chick who stiffed him a twenty at the grocery store. It was intense, man. OK, so he probably just asked nicely and smiled all charming-like, I don't know...May and I sat in the car and bounced around a bit to the radio, but the ten minute drive back to the store made us miss the movie. Whatever, right? Let's just go back to Molly's house and drink.

And so we did.

May continued to knit.

Sometime around 2 in the morning, someone said, "Man, I want to go to Cocoa Beach."

Someone else said, "Me, too."

And then someone else said, "Let's go!"

"Seriously?"

"Fuck yeah!"

And so we did.

We had to take care of some stuff first, but we got to the motel at six in the morning, just in time to watch the sun rise over the Atlantic. Jerkface harassed a crab and May talked about knitting. I sang some Donovan.

I am not sure what time we woke up the next afternoon, but May bought some chopped fruit which we ate with our fingers on the motel balcony. We watched boys in souped up cars speed down the road and May and I commented on how much we would like to fellate them. Cuz the faster the car, the bigger the dick. Ain't that right, fuckers?

I saw ducks! Four of them! Fat ones!

A1A at a quarter to six in the morning is a kinda surreal experience. I liked it.

So this weekend was good.

Jerkface asked me what I wanted and all I could say was "You." Because that is all I want. At least in regards to that part of my brain. I can't think of things in terms of relationships and commitment and status and besides...isn't simplicity better than going on and on about Where We Stand and Where We Are Going? Trying to comprehend that shit makes my head spin. Even more so now that I am sweating Nyquil. I don't know.

I really fucking like him, you guys. He isn't like other boys. Oh, I could so quote Buffy the Vampire Slayer (the movie) right now, but I won't. Cuz I loooove you.

Yeah.

I don't want to talk about this anymore. My thoughts are all muddled and tinted green. I think I'm going to leave. The state, I mean. Like I was telling May tonight, this place holds so many fucking memories, good and bad, and any rational thought would be thwarted by the feelings those memories generate. I need to be fucking rational, for once. Even though I think the boy is more confused(?) than I am, I honestly have no idea what I want. Well, no idea in complicated terms. I know I want him, but what else? Why? But not What Now? Cuz that shit fucks you up and messes with all the little electrons in your brain and I need to stop worrying about the future and stressing over the past.

Hey. Shut up. Stop rambling. OK. Thanks.

Damn, it's hot.

I think I'll post some completely random pictures tomorrow.

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