When I get there, you’ll see my book out there on the shelves.
Keeping this one short for the time being because I’ll be heading out to work in a few minutes.
I worked out today and I looked in the mirror after some exhausting lifts. I was actually pleased with how I looked. Goes to show I don’t have too many image issues. Too many- by that I mean I still have some. I don’t like how I look in the mirror after a lasagna dinner or a night of drinking. But after a good cardio workout or lifting, my body seems to have this thing going where everything just looks strong.
There was a lot of look and I in there. So let’s fuck all that and get down to the gritty of it for the next few minutes. What is our true assessment of self when it comes to image and satisfaction? Some would think themselves fairly moderate when it comes to the issue, but I don’t think people are true to themselves when they get the chance.
I’m a sucker for a pretty face, to be honest. If you have a face that could light up the room, and a personality that matches, but you’ve got a few extra on ya, I’m not gonna duct tape my eyes. If you’re a bitch with a pretty face, and a bangin’ body- sorry, my ears are more attracted to a woman than anything.
I remember talking to this woman online, and I was desperately trying to engage her, and she wasn’t even throwing any energy behind her responses. I’m like, really? I’m trying to ask you some legit questions to get to know you, and here you are giving me zilch. zero. I guess that means you’re not into me, so I’ll leave you with this: sorry to have bothered you, I’ll leave you alone.
Her next response: wow. ok. bye. Like I had done something offensive.
If anyone with half a sense of what is around them can tell, I like to write. Talking is another story- because I have to formulate shit on the spot and you’ll have to feel like you’re squeezing blood out of a stone sometimes. The words are in there, don’t worry sweet thing. I just need a moment to gather them all up and throw em at you in a way that will sound the best for both of us.
But I like to write. My words can flow out of me when I put my mind to it at any junction like the ass flow after a bad lunch preceded by a cereal with sour milk. Sure, sometimes it’s the worst shit in the world, but for the most part it’s regular.
Maybe a bad analogy.
I need to shower, nonetheless. I passed out hard last night after the workout and didn’t even manage to pull my workout clothes offa me.
I’ll be back later to edit, add, apologize.
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