Gruff and I sat in the park today. We sat in the sun, throwing up the odds and ends of the past while into a stream of conversation that lasted for a few sun soaked hours. I relax with Gruff, I always have. Arty brought Gruff into my life and I thank her for it and I hate her for getting to enjoy him on the levels I will never get to. Around Gruff I feel proud, then I leave Gruff and even the hottest summer day seems that much colder and I am lost.
After the part I headed down into the village to walk through the art I have seen three days in a row now. Beauty by Beaudry I guess makes my playground less threatening so I thought best take advantage of the comfort zone while I still had it as in another week the canvases are gone.
I still see cock in cock out, I have seen this for three years now. People tell me that that’s not the case but I have failed to see it differently and I want so much to see it differently.
Potential Michelangelos use the abstraction of the intertube and sites with ‘hunt’ ‘grinder’ or versions of in the title to find a mate. Then they find one and they speak about the 'hot' cattle on the street with animalistic verbiage right in front of their future husbands, boyfriends etc.
There is no honor, I see no honor, or respect for that matter. Just cock in, cock out.
Its pride month and I am not proud.
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