A blood-speckled shart in the free world is more enticing than a NYE locked up.
I’m acting like a bitch fussin’ and fightin’ ‘cause I’m going to have a dull, uneventful New Year’s and I haven’t had a decent one since the last night of ’05. I always feel like I’m missing out on something, and after spending so many years in the clink-clink, I guess I have validated that feeling ‘cause I have missed an assload of loving life while living in prison. I missed Halloween a couple months ago and now it appears I’m going to miss getting shit-fucked on New Year’s Eve for the sixth year in a row.
NYE doesn’t really count in prison. My philosophy is that no holidays exist while locked in a cage. For locked-up NYE’s, sometimes I smoked some shwag or got a lil’ sniff as an excuse to get twisted, but no partying really occurred and I sure as shit wasn’t tickled pink about it. I would literally try to disappear in my cube while the inmates screamed and acted silly counting down to the New Year. I would wander out to use the toilet and get accosted by annoying well-wishers. I don’t know what it is with me but I used to get furious hearing all these guys apparently enjoying themselves. How is it possible to have fun doing NYE in prison? I guess lots of these guys genuinely make friends inside and the companionship is enough to make them party hardy. I was stuck thinking about what was happenin’ on the outside.
Now here I am in the free world, and I can’t even get shit-fucked and make an ass out of myself. In 2005-06, I met a friend in Tucson, sniffed meth, got wasted, got dissed by hookers (numerous ACTUAL hookers), and then stayed up all night in a motel smoking an 8-ball of crack, exchanging tall tales. I watched my buddy get punched in the face by the crackhead who sold him the crack (for $100!!) as a cop drove by. I was on parole then, too, and it did not really faze me too much.
I’m sure this NYE can be more fun than my last few episodes. A blood-speckled shart in the free world is more enticing than a NYE locked up, so I want to try to party like your average law-abiding but reckless person, but I don’t even have the chance this year. I’m stranded at my parent’s lavish crib in Tucson, and I’ll probably ring in the New Year geriatric style. I might even get roped into walking around the neighborhood and party-hopping in this raging retirement community. I shouldn’t care much, ‘cause I know there are worse things, but sometimes I feel like life is short and it’s a crime to miss such bonerable holiday nights as these.
Instead maybe I’ll share a few candlelight drinks with myself, and etch out some practical New Year’s resolutions. The first has got to be to stop stickin’ things in my ass. On my trip out here I stashed my money in a balloon, lubed it, and jammed in the browneye for safekeeping. I know the butt is a pocket and better safe than sorry, but this behavior is jus goin’ get me locked up back in the slammajamma .
Second New Year’s resolution is I need to jerk off more. Since bein’ released back into the real world, I’ve failed to make ample time for self-loving. When it’s mano y mano furiously strokin’ the meat in a sweaty visceral rage, one learns things about one’s self that are truly enlightening. I equate masturbation to meditation, and I think I’ve been fuckin’ up in life recently due to lack of hog-floggin’.
Third, I need to update my Match.com profile. I’m not selling what’s cookin’ properly, and, therefore, I’m not really gettin’ any asscheeks spread in my face. I think I need to scratch the part about just getting outta jail. I think it’s a super turn-on, but it seems that the bitches are scared. And I should probably cease callin’ them bitches.
Fourth, I need to finish my novella. I’ve been writing it for seven years and I still don’t have anything accomplished. It’s all in my head, but difficult to manifest on paper. All I know is that is very animal spirit-centric, and there’s a lot of mystical banging. Writing is all about experience and making the reader feel things. I’d like the reader to feel my wild boar cock bursting in their rectum.
I am tempted to travel 30 minutes and wander into Mexico, or catch a bus to San Diego to rage with friends over there. Maybe it’s best I just hang out with my loving, loyal parents and ponder over my New Year’s resolutions. It’s a big year for me. Probably my biggest ever… If I can manage to stay out of prison, that pretty bitch karma might actually do me a solid with a mean dizzle sizzlin’. I sure have slavishly had my face stuck in her ass-twat for the past seven years now. A little compensatory reparations would be nice. Selfish Fucking Bitch.
Previously – Christmas in the Can