Bulletin Board of Bad Behavior

well rosie is having a party at the mansion, and the few paxacidus regs are here. Alesandro and me and rosie along with wanker and a new chick who is telling me how she likes to fuck her girlfriend with a srtap on but how it doesn't work doggy style because the strap on will slide to the side. they do it from behind still laid on the side. what was going to be another quite night in has turned to drunken fun. and the worls swirls around. we are drinking at Richard Burton & Liz Taylor speed, speeding into the nighgt that has given us snow, frozen flakes that fall into our chilled cocktails as we huddle outside smoking fumes of blue plume. I'm typing because Pax Acidus makes me happy and I always like to escape to be by myself when the party gets going. despite all the highs offered I like a bit of introspection. and now we have more people here who have come into the room. some of the women start to undress and it's another night outside the bottle of blue. i met a Russian woman who sleeps with boys for fasion clothes like a nice pair of shoes but she doesn't care that Marats Safin lost in the final downunder tonight. shit here comes Rosie and the crew so i gotta go. m

If I was as drunk as i am now, i wish i could have been at the party in the mansion. Normally, mansions scare me. they make me think what i can really be, and then i get depressed because all i want to do with my high priced education is dig for clues to our past civilizations, meanwhile getting paid squat.

The Chavin of ancient South America have inspired me.

With your fanged gods
you ingest yage
seeing visions of past
and present wraiths.

walking around all day long
with penis strings and yage
searching for the face
of jaweh, or god, laughing
on the absurdity of all things

inhibitions are not present
seeking out the sweet cunt
of the tribe, you tell her
you're a shaman but she knows
you only lie

it doesn't matter with your
bare ass on the mud
because shes on top of you
making you aware of something
far greater than any deity
could ever give you

she goes back to her father
the peasant of the village
he scorns with bit lip
at her fruitful living

she only smiles with that sweet
sexy smile lust laiden and sexy
she retreats to her room made
of rock and mud, and prays
to no one. She just loves
the orgasm in sweet highland
Ande rocky region, dreaming
of her next penis string
rock hard and erect

And even though i just wrote this poem in a spontaneous drunken state, i'm thinking about turning it in to my S.A archaeology prof. She is French, doesn't speak very good english, and is very sexy. I haver her class at eight in the morning, and i have gradually moved from the back to the front in a matter of three classes.

Sometimes, she asks the students if she's pronouncing a word correctly, and she's so damn cute about it i just want to get up and give her my own private english lesson. Damn I'm a dreamer.

jack
you must do this!!! you are not a dreamer. passion baby. i think she likes you too!
p.s. you didn't miss much of a party, just my margaritas. come to seattle.

Tonight is Alassandro's going away party! Met at 711 21st ave. east at the mansion around 9pm. It's party time!