Wednesday 11:28 p.m.
I was once a great fan of Ernest Hemingway. If I read any Ernest books just now, I'd still be a great fan. I think it might be in The Old Man and The Sea when he talks about how the old man had stopped dreaming about women, but dreamt now about lions on the shore. I would like to be there, but somehow not yet.
I wakened up this morning about half five and thought I could recall the erotic dream I had perfectly, but, of course, I couldn't. Usually, when I remember erotic dreams, it's because I've wakened up to some unpleasantness i.e. the dream was in the nightmare end of dreams. But when I wakened up this morning, I thought the dream had been so well remembered and pleasant that I should write a book about it. Sometimes this happens to me. In remembering the dream, I remember that I'm supposed to be a writing person and think I should relate the dream. Where do you get your ideas from, Hotboy?
The humpings were fairly joyous and it was only when I thought of various aspects later ... like the clitoral thing seeming to grow penis-like .. that I thought this might be a bit weird. At the time... it was a very happy time. A fling. The schoolgirl and moi.
Then we came back to the clapboard house and my extended family were there, particularly one of my alive brothers, Grizzly. It is always good to have a dream about Grizzly because he is the best of us. Then I was going up the stairs with the schoolgirl ... she was a normal person, but a young person of consenting adult stage and way passed that ... when we met the Domestic Bliss. She was very happy but also somehow trying to be annoyed, and it was apparent that both these people looked alike, except the one I was taking up the stairs did not have such gravitas.
It said on the net today that Kundalini juju might be dealing with the libidinous thing. I think, according the Freudian analysis, the libidinous thing is something coming from the id.
What? Hotboy, do not fall for this psychoanalytical crap! Okay, Jack. Let's imagine that the ... let's not imagine anything.
The sixth year girl left a drawing on the table top, etched in, of a huge erection on a figure with breasts. In my glass box, I'm doing the juju as much as I can and trying to pay no attention to the noises off. I think she's a friend of the gurl who showed me her text thing: I would like to fung you all night long, from a week or so ago. Then I get an email of a rather suggestive poem, and ignore that. Then this schoolgirl comes into my glass box, where I spend most of my time staring at the postcard of the Medicine Buddha, and asks me for some sellotape. Sometime later, she hands back the sellotape, and turns away with a drawing of an erection and bollocks sellotaped to her back.
What would you do, Jack? As a spam robot, Hotboy, my advice to you is just to let it be. If you have to be an object of desire, then so be it.
So I shouldn't try to find a neutral locale where I could find a way to hump the schoolgirls? Absolutely not! Be cool. Even in this degenerate age, Hotboy, it is possible to be cool!
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9 comments:
Interesting the stuff in our sleeping mind.
Me thinks you'd best keep a good safe distance from those schoolgirls.
Marie: This year's crop are over the top! They didn't have schoolgirls when I went to school. We just had the Virgin Mary. But what is going on in their wee heads? Dearie, dearie me! Hotboy
It's not enough just not to hump the schoolgirls, Caesar's wife (or the DB's man) has to be above suspicion.
I wouldn't even let them in to the glass box, in case it can later be used to sound dodgy. Ensure there's always a reputable witness to everything, and if that's impossible speak to your boss.
My dentist used to work as a one-man business, then he was unfairly accused by a patient, and has had to employ an assistant full time, to do nothing except be a witness.
But don't listen to me, I'm just envious.
PS - "I've wakened up to some unpleasantness" - I'm not sure where to start.
Albert? Is that still you? Hope the kniving stuff went alright. But I don't let schoolkids into the glass box. An intrusion once my attention was elsewhere. Also, I'm not in loco parentis. I'm like a janny or a bus driver. I'm not going to get the sack for humping seventeen year olds. Anyway, I didn't do it in my 30s, so I don't see there being much chance of me doing it now. I'd run a mile! Fortunately, I'm shy and backward with women as well as having no money, or a motor. If I had a motor, well .... dearie me! Hotboy
My friend Judge Johnson says it's not so much whether you'd hump, it's whether some gold-digging teenager would accuse you of it, to sue you or blackmail you for the book royalties.
Albert? Tell Judge Johnson to be accused of such a thing by someone walking around with an erection stuck to their back would just make my day! Hotboy
I say!
How did Ernest Hemingway meet his end?
MM III
Mingin'! Do you know the answer? He blew his head off. Shotgun. Some of his teeth where embedded in the ceiling. He got a bit paranoid, etc.,I suspect due to the oceans of alcohol he was consuming. However, his old man had committed suicide and it might be a legacy as Kurt Vonnegurt said. One you don't want to have. Kurt said it was always an option. When your car gets a flat,etc. Hemingway was a wonderful and misunderstood, I think, writer. He wasn't macho. He did macho thing s maybe because ... anyway, A Moveable Feast has got to be one of the most wonderful books every written. Not for you. About being a poor artist. You could read the one about shooting animals in Africa. What is the matter with you anyway? Creekit books and philistinism isn't all there is! Hotboy p. s Have you read any Ernest Hemingway? No? A moron!
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