...now I am talking to a friend in california about the titillating hypothetical fantasy of what sex with tori amos would be like; he believes she'd be an animal; I, contrarily, think she'd be moany and writhing; a smolderer. nevertheless, we both agree it would be an experience of the utmost in elegant human delicacy.

i am still novocained...the dentist made fun of me for having a tongue barbell..."crazy...goth people..." he said. he said this, covered in my blood, smiling through plastic fish-eye goggles. he has crooked teeth. but of course, he was not his own dentist when he was a kid. maybe he is now, maybe that's a thing. a dentist who scales his teeth in the mirror, goggles blood- and tartar-specked with glee. plastic surgeons giving themselves penile implants or abs or maybe breast implants for an evening of shits and giggles.

i'm punchy. novocaine makes a body nauseous. i'm countering it with rum. working, i think. my pillow knows. must go ask my pillow.

permalink