You walk in and the door closes and you are in there with the last person who was in the elevator, who is, in actuality no longer in the elevator.
Today I waited outside the elevator. When it opened a lovely, beautiful woman walked out. I stepped in and was overpowered with her romantic smell (I've had similar, not-so-romantic experiences walking in after ugly men).
Later, a beautiful woman in the office walked by me and she smelled like animal crackers. I'm not sure exactly which animal. It was just as enticing as the perfume.
DREAMS
:
Last night I did not smoke any pot. I had a weird dream. More a vision, since I was kind of awake still.
I was in a dark garage with a vulture. I had to let him out of the garage. So, I grabbed him by the beak (which was long and flat like a cross between a pelican and a duck) and around the back and opened the garage door.
He barely struggled, but when he did I heard his beak cracking. I felt horrible, panicked (I don't know if it was really a he. Generally with animals, unless it's a cat, I don't really care anyway). It didn't break off. But it was like his beak was made out of balsa wood and I suddenly became aware of how careful I needed to be.
I was also aware that if I eased up too much, the bird could fuck my shit up.
As the garage door cracked open and the nighttime light outside shone into the garage, I clumsily tossed him outside and the door began to close.
While I was engaged in this, another vulture/pelican/duck waddled under the door and into the garage to my left.
At this point I thought, "I should write about this in my journal." I swear to god, I thought that IN MY DREAM and it woke me up. And I wrote it down.
For a redhead, relying on the sun to improve your mood is about as healthy as relying on alcohol for the same reason. But, whatever helps.
So THE FRECKLED GIRL picked me up. She looked haggard and tired but it just added to her overall aesthetic. Her shoulders were bare and I noticed that she really doesn't have enough freckles to warrant that nickname.
We went to a beach where we could drink. In most cases, if you can drink at a beach, it's usually a low class place. There was a place like that in Ft Myers where I grew up that I often heard white people like my parents refer to as "nigger beach". I went there by myself a lot.
THE FRECKELD GIRL and I went to "dog beach." It was called that because you could bring your dog there (and, as we noticed upon arrival, let your dog shit in the water as well).
But it was pretty, nonetheless: sailboats everywhere and a view of the Bay that affirmed my belief that, if you complain about Tampa, you could be unhappy anywhere.
In the car, we talked about the ephemerality of friendship.
There was an airshow performing overhead as we drove.
She told me, without realizing the irony, that I was her only real friend.
She told me she thought I was sexy. I ignored her about that.
We made mutual decisions in regards to our position on the beach, based on the mutual fairness of our skins.
We laid in the sand. She had her blanket at a 45-degree angle to mine so that our faces were very close. It was comforting.
She said we should take a vacation together.
Talking softly because we were so close, it seemed very natural that I should kiss her. I think she's relying on my friendship right now, for better or worse, at a time when she feels like she doesn't have any friends, like guys she's friends with only hang out with her when they designs. I have designs I suppose, but that's not all I have. Not even close. But her concerns, her letdowns, compounded with just not having the nerve, made it easy to not kiss her.
Then there's my blatantly good intentions.
My intentions are so good that they're boring and there's not enough tension to pull in a young pup who still gets off on the "I wonder if they like me."
Plus, sex just means something different at 26, when I've had OH SO MUCH EXPERIENCE. Good experience. Fun times.
But there she was in a bikini and I wasn't even checking her out (much). I just rarely feel intensely sexual about anyone I actually like until it's definitely going to happen.
I can jerk off three times a day thinking about someone I don't know or don't care about.
I've always wondered what that meant.
But I never even much fantasized about the love of my life LITTLE REDHAIRED GIRL (who's still in Europe). I knew it'd be great when/if it happened, but even after it more or less happened (less), I never had a lot of sexual fantasies about her.
Once I know someone, there's a wide gap (nice imagery) between fantasizing about it, and doing it. That's why all of THE FRECKLED GIRL's sexual teasing doesn't work on me. She's taunting me in the wrong way if she wants to frustrate me, because I rarely think about her physically like that (except when we're drunk together). It's just too obvious: I know how it would be, it'd be fun.
But it would probably just be better than THIS person I slept with (that I don't remember her last name) but not as good as this OTHER person I slept with (who I went out with forever) and…it's just not much of an issue.
WHY we would fuck is always more exciting than dreaming about the actual act. For me.
I think a lot about what it would be like to have her face close to mine like we did on the beach. That could be frustrating (it wasn't though). Or, in the extreme, I imagine kissing her softly. But I don't think about her pussy (maybe when we first met).
Anyway, got a little sidetracked there, but that's o.k.
So, we're at the beach: There were ants everywhere. We couldn't figure out why this particular beach had so many ants.
As we talked, I noticed a small skinny white root buried in the sand to my right, that led underneath my towel. I followed it, brushing off the sand with my finger as we talked. Eventually the root led to a pointed end. Which was when I realized it was not a root, but a tail of some sort.
I followed the tail in the other direction and uncovered a huge, dead, smelly stingray carcass. Picking up the stingray to throw it in the water, the ants came out in droves.
I tossed it into the still water, disturbed the entire ecosystem of the beach.
It would be amazing to have the experience the ants must have been having: smelling what must seem like an airline hanger's worth of food from what must seem, to them, like hundreds of miles away:
We're going to be staying at the tail during the week of the feast. I know it’s not the best location but it's only about 50 miles from the guts.
Not a far trip for stingray, considering we traveled so many miles last year to eat that dog shit.""Hey, did you guys hear about the huge weeklong feast going on on the other side of the state? We're going to get packed and we'll meet you out there in a few days.
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