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May 7, 2005
300
Yesterday afternoon went to meeting with large European financial institution client located on Wall street. 28th floor. From there to my man Rich. Rich called night before asking for help. Marshalls impounded his car for failure to pay stack of citations. Needed $300. I decide to help for the adventure of it, not naive to the ramifications. I insist on holding equivalent in work but receive payment in wares which he promises to give middle of next week if I don’t blow it all up (he says with sort of knowing tone). I want to look at what I get before I go but he says he can’t take me up, that’s his mama’s house, so we trade on sidewalk huddled up against Baptist church van. Done, we chat. He says he’d leave the car but it’s his baby mom’s. He wants to summer in DC where shit is for real. They gettin serious. Not these scraps he’s been handling but $30,000 at a time. He’s trying to get in there. I walk with 15 dubs and go do favorite thing. Smoke at home and fart around with fiction and emails, music, this and that. Kept meaning to get out and meet up with gang, one of ours in town from B-school. I don’t do it until 1:30. Ask driver if I can take a quick puff on my pipe. Wants to know what kind of pipe and won’t let me off hook. “Crack?” I hold it up, hand over black smudge as best I could. “Just this glass pipe.” No problem, go ahead. Then he tells me how he was on that for 8-9 years. I asked how he stopped and he said found something more important. I was ready for Jesus. It was a woman. Man, I want a woman like that! But I’m not sure I’m susceptible to that. He talks whole way about how bad it is, what it’ll do to you. I agree all along, taking pulls periodically. Even arrived, he parks and keeps talking. At club, bouncer says it’s only private parties. Calls go unanswered in noisy clubs. I try a couple bars. Usually have good luck meeting someone to chat with, but not last night, except outside smoking and talking Mayan ruins with some chap. Head home again, and talk education and stoic philosophy with smart, thoughtful oldish white guy. He lets me puff, too. Back home start to get bored, but of course can’t be sensible and stop, work for sleep. If I have, I do. Look at suicide girls and some tranny site. Craigslist post for company. Go over to some guy’s in neighborhood round 9a. Classic strategy. Hands beer, “hey, you like porn?” (turning it on), after awhile “I love eating pussy, but when I’m fucked up and horny and there’s none around, I like to suck cock.” So I make deal. Having already discovered he writes and seen his first book I’m all excited about how much he’d like the books of a friend of mine who writes in same vein. I want to get off on that. So say if I can show him some stuff on Amazon and a zine, I’ll let him suck my dick. We do. I show him how to smoke crack. I shower. I repose for the sucking. Thing is, I stay so close for so long, rewinding best porn sequence, and going nuts like I’ve had girls do but never done myself. God it’s crazy punishing bliss forever and when I go it’s so damn fucking intense I’m left quivering jelly. Seriously, people say this, but I don’t think I’ve ever come like that. I needed that. We smoke more and talked book publicity, his previous trade. I walk home. I write first blog entry
Posted by peligrito at May 7, 2005 12:57 PM
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