On Trunk Strength and Other Issues

I copy your writing from some site and I translate it. Fast. Without thinking. And it gives me a hard-on, the fact that I´m able to do it. Without thinking. Heee…

I get rejected again. But this time, the person signing my rejection letter is one of my favourite authors, a woman so unbelievable good at interpreting humankind and putting her thoughts into words you wouldn´t believe it. And when rejected by her, I´m hard again. Instantly.

If you were here what would you do? Dance with me? The naprapath says I have to improve my gait, he wants me to walk regally. But his hands are sweaty and he sucks at small talk. He´d be better off piercing butterflies. Seriously. This is not just me being mean.

I drink wine and I give blow jobs. Would you like one? I wouldn´t mind and you wouldn´t have to feel bad, I´m not a damaged person. In fact, I´m surrealistically undamaged, I grew up as one of the children in ”The Children of Noisy Village”. So when I say I´m game, I´m game, no strings attached. Liberating, huh?

”Can I go play with E.?” the son says. It´s eleven in the morning and I say yes. ”I want to go play with O.” says the daughter and disappears. And so they´re both at the neighbour´s. I make lunch for the girls in a basket and they eat outdoors in the frosty woods and I think it´s a good childhood. Really good. At five in the afternoon I make pizza, but the son comes hurrying home, he´s going to see a movie and can he get some money and no, he´s already eaten. The daughter comes a bit later, she´s in makeup and glittery stickers and can she go too? Pretty, please! She skips away with a slice of pizza in her hand. I put her favourite cheese on it.

This leaves me and my husband. I dress in black lace, leather and pretty stockings and, you know.

Good thing, neighbours.

I´m sorry about the melting permafrost. I really didn´t intend for it to happen so fast.