i love the sound of noodles being stirred in a pot of boiling water and my head is spinning off my neck and Saturday night at the party talk of Easter 3 and holes will get filled and future orgies make us wish we knew more men we wanted to fuck or be fucked by and Powder Puff Girls and nipple torture and in the bathroom i photograph her and she pees next to us in the toilet and wipes from front to back and then makes her come closer which isn’t too far considering we are in a manhattan bathroom and grabs her face and pushes it a bit under her own and begins to collect spit onto the tip of her tongue and then slowly drops it into her mouth and i photograph that too. she ends it with a smack which is well received and then molests me against a wall before i leave and i don’t mind. later on at Village Vanguard i listen to jazz which reminds me of Charlie Brown and drums like waving flimsy sheets of metal and the red curtains as a backdrop on a stage that is more like a large platform and two spotlights and i feel like i’m in a Woody Allen film again which is a good thing and maybe New York is where it’s at.
one million thoughts and places to put them and Sunday a latex hood in purple and panties to match and tan lines and large studios that make me crave more and Chuck Close is full of shit to say that inspiration is for amateurs or maybe that’s where i’m at food for thought and later we decide that if we were siamese twins we’d be attached at the hip and a get out of jail free card for incest in such a situation and teen moms are all over us weeklys and most are really just bad mommies which would be a great title and entry way into a porn career.