Beatcraft

This shit is blowing my mind. I went online, thinking I'd find a beatmaker to put my raps to; now I could sit here for days assembling drum fills and making a percussion song. I can see why it takes so long -

"I deserve to make these numbers
Locked in a room making five beats a day for three summers"

but damn is it fun. This is a powerful ass program.

Matty P will be over later - much Coors Light and audio fills will be produced. I suddenly don't want to go back to Phoenix, at least for another day or two - I'd rather sit and produce stuff with a musical friend. :-)

Even Odds

I'm chilling at home, stuffed with tryptophan, and incapable of higher brain function. It's been awesome; I'll write about it later. For now, I'm chilling at a friend's, and I need to kill some time. I think I'll just post one of my rhymes from my everpresent pocketbook - this one's called Even Odds, Good Odds, who knows. :-)

Hey, what's up? Hello there
I see you watching with that hungry stare
And I do believe it's quite fair
To tell you to take care and beware
Because I'm probably going to tell you half-lies
I'm only half-like most other guys
See, there's a half a chance
I'll be aching to get in your pants
And if that's the case
I swear I'll say what needs to be said
To ride home and roll dirty in your bed
Even if that means just shitty drunk head
You've got even odds to show up at your door
And I'll be naked as a whore is
And you can rape me bored
Like a bad Seattle chorus
The only thing of which I'm sure is
That you're not the one I want to take to My Florist
But I'm probably not going to heed these thoughts
So pour out some shots
Before you pull out my cock
We'll kill the lights and let it rock
Have ourselves a frantic fleeting fuck
with no shame and no names and hope at least one of us came when it's all done I'll remember the flame, and know that not all sex is the same
It's not just a matter of feeling her turn inside out or wrapping our legs around each other's mouth or finding every single place we can fuck inside of my house
--I want a girl with a razor-sharp brain
There's nothing like it, nothing the same
I want a girl with wicked liquid laughing beautiful eyes
So I'm aching to kneel and lick my way up your thighs
I want to hear a fantastic, free laugh
Like she's down to chase me around and smack my ass
See, I don't pound, I grind
I want to run my hand through your hair and feel your orgasm come out the back of your mind
In fact, I want to be able to just slip, nibble and suck
have so much fun when we laugh and touch
that I don't care if we fuck
and sometimes it's so hard to find it
That I try to pretend I don't mind it
let myself forget I crave someone to wine and dine
who will have ridiculous sex with my mind
because I'm 23 and sometimes I just want to make someone mine
so I let my will break and give into the urge to make someone's legs shake
because I LOVE it when she comes
I love to make her go
I like to bend and play and curl your toes
I like it because I did it, it was me, I know
but it's not always like that
sometimes, mentally, it's just falling flat
I might still come hard as a gun
we might roll and dance have plenty of fun
but if I want to grind and make love to your mind
then there be one behind your eyes that I respect
and if I'm not digging your humor and intellect
then I'm not really interested in teasing you wet
and your ladynut is still a sure bet
but just because it's polite
not because I want to eat you all night
so reciprocating down south is a
rote obligatory lie down and add mouth
Nah - I want to find a girl whose grin lights up my whole world
find you in a crowd because you laugh out loud
discover how you taste after a bbeer
feel your hot breath on my ear
wrap my arms around to draw you near
feel your body lean into mine
eager to worship at your shrine
to pour out some rum stick my thumb in your bum and lick the front to make you come
the look in your eyes when you finally let go
feel your bloody nails down my back
and you soften when you hold me close
whether you wriggle your nose
whether you throw you head back, or side-to-side
do your legs fly out or pull me deeper inside?
do you need to stop and breathe or is it just a minute before you're again ready to ride?
I want a real reason to scream like a heathen
don't just wanna ride for personal pride
because not every notch on that post is a reason to boast
I've let just about anybody
ride my face until my nose is bloody
and their legs are putty
but I want more than a whore
like the redhead I had on Ty's floor
someone who's funny when we're done and sore
but look, everything aside I'm still 23 and horny to ride
so there's your even odds and chances
that I'm interested in casual romances
and why my lies are maybe half-true
I might be interested, but wish there was more to you
if not, you're still got a decent shot
my will breaks and I'm ready to shake
but in the meantime I'm going to sit
and work on my rhymes and wiat til I find someone with a wicked mind to wine and dine and actually want to make mine

Good Morning, Reasons Why I Drink

Hehe - heard that on Scrubs the night before last with Sky and it sounded so apropo.

So, Tuesday was the second day where the students took their district-wide benchmark testing, to see how they'd been doing for the past few months. The results are conclusive:
(1) Two separate bathrooms were lit on fire.
(2) A third bathroom was graffitied.
(3) Two eighth-grade girls in my homeroom drank tequila, in school, for a few hours until they got caught - by smell.

Other fun weekly happenings:
On Monday, one of my roommates had a kid chuck a rock at his head on the way back from recess.

On Wednesday, a 7th grader brought a boombox into class. While the kids were working on test review, he plugged it in, stuck it under his hoodie, and began blaring music. Hoodie or not, it wasn't hard to figure out who had it; I confiscated it. The next day they'd already picked the lock into class, or otherwise gained access, and retrieved said boombox.

Today, I spent $150 on a pizza party for the best students from each class. Way too much money. But I've enjoyed them on the last day before break, and it was a nice thing to do. They were really happy, even if they still get my name wrong.

I've come to realize taht something's gotta give. I can't keep covering $300 monthly car payments and $600 a month for rent and utilities. I've either got to get refinancing, or sell the Tiny Car.

Also, I think I will become a flight attendant. Travel, time to work on writing, people to meet, travel. And I can chuck the children off the plane when no one's looking.
But, seriously. A flight attendant? I'm blonde and perky. :-)

Sneeze

Back in ASU - I showed up almost an hour and a half late; I got home, and Barishnakov suggested having a beer with his friend from Spain, which seemed absurdly more interesting than sitting through classes I don't like, am required to take, and which expect absurd amounts of busywork. The professor for my first class is amazing, and nice, so I feel guilty, but it's just not hugely necessary or helpful. I do enjoy it at times, though, and so I wanted to take a moment, and post the freestyle I wrote for class last week.

We were asked to do a freewrite - a writing sneeze, as my professor put it - for three minutes. I, being slightly inebriated, took the cue and chose to spend the time spilling out a quick little rhyme. I found it in my laptop case when I got here this evening, and thought it was kind of nice - so I thought I'd share it. The sneeze was:

"In my class, writing is..."

a pain
a chore
for them, a bore
but every so often, they stop
and realize the words aren't slop
they come easy and fun
and that's when I know the "not done"
chant they yell when I come to take their papers
like an absurdly dressed waiter
is not something said in panic, but with pride
because they broke through and found the writer inside
--ok, so it's not quite as transcendental as that
but still, it's the kid who yesterday wouldn't've sat
who is today glued to his chair
with his nose right at the page there
playing the annoying child game
double-checking to make sure their sentences don't start the same
asking themselves "why" over and over again
while the words tumble and roll from their pen
quiet and determined inside they try
more now, since I told them they bring happy tears from my eyes
and when it happens I love to hold up the page they filled
and praise them in front of the class for the words they spilled

Yup. I thought it was fun. Maybe not, but I thought it was worth sharing.

For the Kids

I got one of the most unsettling emails I've ever recieved yesterday morning, and I suppose it's deserved. I'm working through my thoughts, of which I've of course produced pages. I had a day off, woke up at 11, retired to bed for an extra hour, and then played bball for two straight hours. I am loving Encanto. Anyway, I then spent three hours at Toyota getting my oil changed, and I had plenty of time then to sit and think, and apply some of the perspective I've gained since graduation, through Institute, and through these last few months. I'll write on that later; I just wanted to post the rhyme I wrote for my kids last week I mentioned.

They really are absurd; one girl has missed two weeks of school, apparently under the impression that she could just drop out (and presumably, her family didn't disabuse her of the notion, or didn't know that she was wrong). Today, she came back, and as I saw her in the hallways, I observed that she appeared to be in a ridiculously cheery mood, and thought perhaps two weeks off had improved her; instead, she was in a good mood because she had come back to school for one sole purpose: Fighting with another girl during recess. I guess kids had been ragging on the first girl for being a chicken--for not coming back to school to get in a fight--and she was finally back to settle some score.

Seriously - for many of these kids, school is viewed as an interruption of their sex lives, and a stage for their fights and establishments of reputation. Not for all, but for some. I mean, come on --coming back to school just to fight?

Anyway, this is the song that I read, and one of the girls in the fight - the one who usually attends - is one of the girls I made cry that day. Hope she remembers the message when she gets back, and in the future.

So it happened - you probably saw me cry
Saw me stop my mouth flop and the tears in my eyes
So I want to take a minute and tell you why
I come every day, and I see your faces
Smiling, sad, or angry, I just want you to go places
Because I care about each and everyone of you
(name), (Name), (Name), (name), and (name), you too
I want each everyone of you to fulfill your dreams
So when class is out of control and I scream
It's not as simple as it seems
I'm not truly angry or mad
Truth is, I feel robbed - of the day we could've had
And I'm disappointed. And I'm worried.
I feel like time is so short, and we must hurry
For the days are ticking by ever so fast
But before the 25th of May has slipped past
I want to give you everything I can
So come what may, you will stand
With your head held high and a wicked grin
The confidence that it's your life, you're gonna win
Because you can do anything you want, I know it
That's why I push you, I demand that you show it
I don't want you to keep your light locked up inside
I want you to crack your shell, and make sure you hold it up high
So you yourself can see just how bright you shine
Look at the glow coming from around yourself and think, "hey, that's mine"
That's why I fret, and that's why I stress
When you don't hear what I say and the class is a mess
Because I want the world to be your buffet
Like Burger King, so you can have it your way
And I want to make sure that happens
So it's about time I stopped my stupid silly rapping
And get back to regular class
Now you know - I don't just want you to pass
I want you to be the best
That's why I feel it get tight in my chest
and I cry
when you don't push
when you don't try
so please - put some happy tears in my eyes

Clove On the Water

Forgot to hit post on this the other day:
I wrote most of this in both of the locations in the poem. I did just about all the editing and wrapping it up over a clove and a Corona on an apartment balcony in the setting sun the day before Halloween, so this is one of the fastest ones I've blistered out lately. It's kind of silly now, but I like the imagery, the coherence, and the flow. The only thing I'm unsure of now is the kick-out (and the message of it)...but hey, a song's a song.



As the wind kicks up it lights my clove
And there I sat upon the boardwalk and strove
To bite back my tears against the pier lights
I'm lost in the rolling blues that fill this night
Flowing out from the guitar pumped by the bar
The sound thicker than the smoke curling from my char
All in all, it's a beautiful night
But something is truly not quite right
For as the lights of the pier shimmer orange upon the waves
I'm sitting and dripping ash and tears upon the page
See there's a hole beneath my arm where you used to sit
And everywhere the tide goes it takes my tears with it
This afternoon I sat and watched the ocean, peaceful foamy blue
And both times, I was just kissing a cigarette instead of you
I can sit in my jeans and put my toes in the sand
But I just want to put down my pen and pick up your hand
Now there's a silence in my day where I used to hear your laugh
Even wonderful things have an emptiness to remind me of what I used to have
That's why you're the first to hear when I pull out my phone
Because you're the one that feels like home
So everything that should be something new
Is like a bad copy of a time I already had with you
Anywhere anytime anyplace is just a clone
Of a time when I was there while your smile shone
As I sit and the smoke curls around my head
I can hear the things that you would've said
It makes it hard to be just your friend
When all day I ache to be yours again
Anywhere I go I can already feel you there
And all of my time is something I wish we shared
I sit on this beach with a clove to enjoy
And I just dream of a future where I was your boy
Knowing that life with you by my side
Should be the truth rather than this beautiful lie
It's amazing that you'll be on the coast of Spain
But here on this Cali shore I'm dying just the same
So as my thoughts fly to the town of Alicante
And my mind is filed with the chords of John Frusciante
The wind burns my clove all the way to teh embers
I push myself to forget to remember
And I try to pretend that when the sun rises on a new day
That I somehow will snap and feel okay
Even though the space where you used to sit will feel the same
And the tide takes my tears with it but not my pain

Battlin'

I feel stupid about the way I acted for those 36 hours immediately after finding out, but I'm proud of myself that it was only 36 hours. I don't regret the questions asked--both answered, and not--but I do regret the way I asked them. I want the answers, but I could've been a lot more tactful and a lot less weepy. I think I was just shocked at my own stupidity.

It made this week interesting--in fact, it jacked investment in all of my own classes. I read my kids poems (that I decided to write for them, and will post when I get back), took time to tell them they were special, told them about myself, and rap battled some of the 8th graders. When I told kids why I taught, and told them I had cried over them--because I was proud of them--I had kids leave the class in tears. It blew their minds. One class, I took the time to tell every single kid a few wonderful things I had noticed about them. They went late to lunch and didn't even give a shit. I don't know if they respected it, but I have never seen any of my classes that dead silent for that long. And in just about every class, when ever the smart mouth would have a comment (in most classes, that kid was one of the ones who was shocked to find themselves crying), the other kids would shush them immediately -- "Yo, Mr. (x) is trying to speak from the heart. He's telling us some real shit!" When I told some kids how proud I was of them, they fucking lost it. It was incredible.

I told them about the kids from this summer, who were homeless and made me chug the TFA Kool-Aid; I told them about the things I knew about them; I gave them life advice. That day, a dozen kids I'd had in classes before lunch came to my room just to sit around and say hi. Not even to chat; just to be like "What's up? We just wanted to hang out." A girl who I've seen the suicidal reports on has been walking around grinning all week, and when she smiles, it's like the dawn, because it's genuine and hasn't happened all year.

As for the rap battles, I won, I lost, and both 7th and 8th graders now give me a whole new respect when I walk around. It was fun, and weird, and it's probably on YouTube at this point. I didn't really know the rules--one kid, when I started replying to him, was like "Wait, don't we just go once each?" to which I genuinely had to reply, beats me.

The school shut it down, when I tried to do it on the playground; but it was something out of a movie when I emerged from the teacher's lounge those two days, and 100 8th graders start tearing towards me from all around the playground, field, basketball courts, to come see what's going to happen. It won't happen again--they don't trust the kids not to fight, which seems nonsensical to me; they're weirded out, pumped, and enthralled watching a teacher and one of their own do this little dance, but I don't make those decisions--but it was fun, and it's something to talk about as a future potential to get the kids to buy in.

In any case, kids have been advancing, I have people at all levels moving at their own pace, grading is under control, and I found something ridiculously nice--spreading love to 250 kids only puts me in an exponentially better mood. It's a wonderful salve.

I'm going camping. :-)

Darkly Comical

Jesus, it's so deliciously cliched.
She won't reply, which could mean she's choosing to not speak to me.
I doubt it, since that's my idea, and she didn't want to do that.
She could simply be choosing to ignore an obnoxious question - It was Chris, wasn't it? - but I doubt it. It makes too much hilarious sense.

What a fucker. He's the opposite of me, like I already said. And it just makes sense--break up with someone, call up an ex for rebound sex. And she was in Seattle for several days before Melissa got there, so she had time when it wouldn't have been awkward for Melissa. Not to mention, several days to fuck.

And of course, it meant she went basically from my bed to a plane to his dick. Nice turnaround time.

The funniest part is that when I met her, she didn't like getting oral, didn't like the lights on, didn't even move during sex, and thought it strange that women were meant to get anything out of sex--the thought didn't occur to her, and it fucked with her when I pointed out that women ought to. And the guy who she was with before me--who presumably helped her build those ideas--is the guy she went back to. Awesome--I thought I had done something: Get her off, teach her to unwind during sex, to come from oral, and her instinct is to give those things to the asshole she'd been with beforehand. It's just funny. Him and his gauged dick.

It's like I can't necessarily get mad about it, and maybe that's part of my mood swings right now. But I'm like - "back to the biker with the tat you constantly made fun of, who hurt you and pissed you off?" Either I had no impact, (in which case, fuck it) or it didn't matter, and you loved him anyway (in which case, fuck it) or you just fell back on instinct (in which case, loss of respect, because I thought you were better than I).

It does mildly piss me off that she was sly enough to tell me to have her raw, so I would believe she hadn't been with anyone, so I got to lap up Chris' latex. And the fact that she was assuredly talking to him while she was still with me. But seriously? If keeping me in your thoughts means sending you beer in tubes, and being a dick to you most of the time we interact, then I'm not going to worry about it.

Stupid, Gullible Sap

I don't think I've ever felt so provinicial, simple, and boring as I did when I went through my phone ridding myself--and therefore seeing again--of reminders of her. The picture of her with a bobby pin in her mouth, hair pulled back into her fist, lips in a cocky take-on-the-world grin that she sent me while she was on the road in Cali made me feel like a teeny little ball of hick. After all, I saw that grin and felt happy for her. Now I realize that was the grin of someone who was free of me--who was on a trip that was literally and figuratively taking her away from me, of her own will and desire. And her doing something so wonderful and independent, as a literal manifestation of leaving me, feels like a slap in the face to any self-image I have as someone who is spontaneous, interesting, or desirable: "Hi, I'm leaving your boring self. This grin is me, without you, growing into myself and leaving you."

Last night, I just wrote exhausted and enraged, and then I sat and thought more about why I felt like an idiot.

It's because I thought for several months now that we separated for completely practical reasons--she'd be 2000 miles away, we didn't know when we'd see each other again, we both needed to work on ourselves, etc. All the texts, all the conversations, the whispered I love yous and the times when she seemed to be yearning for me gave me my stupid hope that she, and us, might just say fuck practicality, and be romantic--that we would take opportunities to see each other, that we would fly out during random breaks, that I would fly to Alicante, that we would meet in different cities when we had time, and we would be partners again, if ones that couldn't spend much time together.

I had no idea that we broke up because she wanted to. I didn't know that her love had faded, that she had wanted to move on.

I guess, if I wasn't such a sap, I would've read her polite euphemisms for what they were. For example, she said part of the reason she didn't want to stay together was becaus she didn't want to feel obligated to talk to me. I was so confused, because I felt like I wanted to tell her things regardless; I didn't see what a relationship status had that bore on our desire to keep in touch. In retrospect, it wasn't that she didn't want to feel obligated to talk to me. That's too specific. It was that she didn't feel obligated to me, and she didn't want to be obligated to me in any sense. She wanted to cut ties, pure and simple. Then she could stride around, and do whatever she wanted.

Second, she said she wanted to meet other people, travel, and grow. That doesn't even really need to be examined. What kind of dumbass believes that that isn't a nice euphemism for "I'm bored with you, and ready to move on?" Me, that's who.

So I could've been intelligent, and seen the signs for what they were.
I'm not, and I didn't.
I've never been left because someone actually just got tired of me. I was talking to Sky the other day about why our relationships ended.

I actually thought it was the case that my relationships have all ended largely because of distance.

Guess that's not the case.

And moreover, I wonder if I now know how Phyllis felt. Distance was an excuse, but not the real, underlying reason, as I later admitted to myself. I had just wanted someone who could be around, and so I tossed her aside.

Distance was a pleasant, polite reason for leaving me, but I was just tossed aside because I got old, stodgy, and boring. And I then spent three months making myself believe that she still wanted me, and that distance was the real reason we were apart. Hooray.

....I guess it's not quite as simple as that. She did still care some. After all, she called me when she parted ways with Melissa, and did just want to hear my voice. So she still cared some, I suppose (?). But that, I guess, is just the natural echoes of a relationship, that even the person who breaks it off must face.

After all, that probably happened after she spent time fucking someone else, so I was just a pleasant crutch to rely on--a hard ride, a hard day, and look, here's someone who desperately loves me who I can talk to make myself feel better. And if it hadn't happened after she'd slept with someone else, some of the other phone calls certainly did, because she was already back on campus. So she'd seen fit to branch out, and meet other people; she just needed a shoulder to cry on for when that got lonely.

Again, that's why I feel stupid. I'm not the person she wants. I'm not the person she loves. I'm not the person she wants to be with. I am the person that she can call when she needs some emotional support.

That's not at all fair to me, because she knows that I want her, love her, and want to be with her. I similarly lack emotional support, and get to rely on myself. The difference is that if I call her, if I reach out to her, it's reaching out to someone I wish I still had, whereas she can just reach out to an available reservoir of love. And it never seemed like an issue to explain to me that she didn't want me, that she didn't want to be with me, but that we were apart because she wanted someone else. Or everyone else, and just to be free. It was just easier to let me wallow and hope. She knew when she left Phoenix for Seattle

--Jesus, did she fuck Chris? Was that who it was? The thing that she told me she wouldn't do? I bet so. That would be just a cataclysmic perfect storm of "fuck it, I'm done with you"--she went and fucked the one person who she assured me she was no longer attracted to. I wonder if they'd spoken about it before she even left me.

Holy fuck.

I'm a stupid fucker, and I hate myself for wanting so desperately to believe that was the case that I bought all that shit. That I bought bad romantic comedy cliches as truth. I'm miserable, and I deserve to be this miserable this far out of the gate for not catching on sooner.

Naivete

I have been extraordinarily naive. I have spent the last three solid months pining after someone, wishing they would have me. How silly.

She was screwing people in California.

She said that doesn't include the horticulturalist, but, after all, she lied to me when she got back--Why believe her now? I would think it might include the kind 30 year old who just happened to let her crash at his place. After all, that's a bit strange.

And when I came back from Club Red, I slipped, and looked at her facebook photos. I wonder how many of those people had her.

If she could lie to me, and tell me she hadn't so much as kissed anyone, then what other lies did I believe? Not just in the last few months, but in the last two years? I mean, that's not exactly a simple lie of omission; that's a I'm-holding-your-hand-lying-in-your-bed-looking-you-in-the-eye-and-feeding-you-a-fucking-whopper. No, I didn't kiss anyone, I just fucked them. While I was thinking about how I didn't want you anymore. Sorry.

She trained for that bike trip on my bike, which she then gave me back, broken. She offered to fix it six months later. Thanks. And on my birthday, she sent me a 57 cent fart whistle. I'm glad you remembered to celebrate my birthday. In fact, I wonder who she fucked on my birthday. After all, we weren't together; but she was still sending me plenty of "I love you's" and "I miss you's" and "I wish we were snuggling" and "I miss your brain, J" type text messages. It's just heartwarming to know that the person you wanted to marry was still sending you loving text messages, and probably riding someone else's dick on you birthday.

Oh yeah, and she said I was "better." Physically, and...emotionally, I suppose? I doubt it. Why not feed the poor sap a little lie to salvage some of his ego?

I wonder what Debra's facial expression meant when she realized who I was. Probably pity; I'm sure she spent several hours laughing at my expense with E before E came over to my place.

Also, she had sex with me with no condom. Joyous. I wonder if I caught anything.

She said she's "currently revising" her opinions on hookups. What the fuck is that supposed to mean? I guess I'll ask her, out of morbid curiosity. She probably won't tell me, but that's just as well. It's not as if I really need to know who she's been fucking on campus, or as if it really matters, in any case. I do wonder what her mind's been chewing on in terms of her new "stance" on sexuality, if only because it seemed like a loaded term.

Also, I wonder if she's had sex with Sean. He seems a likely candidate, and I'm actually kind of happy for him.

I wonder if she felt sparks when she fucked people in Cali, when she screwed around on campus, and if she was telling the truth when she said she did when she screwed me, but again, it (a) doesn't really matter anymore and (b) why believe the truth about the latter? I suppose I should be glad I never called her phone and heard a guy answer, but it's not exactly silly to think that there wasn't someone lying next to her. Or doing the same thing I used to do--trying to make her give away the fact that someone was pleasuring her while she was on the phone. That's a fun thought--I wonder if she's talked to me while someone else has been inside her? Why not? She's revising her stance.

Subsidiarily, I shouldn't flatter myself and think that I was pleasuring her while she was on the phone.

You know what's strange? I remember when Amelia was in Spelman talking about how they were going to have a blast in their room next year, and then she (presumably) thought about how that could be taken awkwardly by me, and she gave me a strange look and then the topic changed. That facial expression popped into my mind, and my first thought was "Well, yup. That's happening."

My second thought is to wonder if Amelia knew then that Emily would be single by the time she got back to campus. Had Emily decided back then that she wouldn't be with me? That would make sense. I don't know why she kept playing with me for so long--for a TransAm trip, dating me, taking me to Denver....

Maybe just inertia. I can't blame her. We're all guilty of that. And that just means that her thought about "I don't really need to be with him" started back then--and she alluded to that on the phone.

Okay, fuck it. I am pretty annoyed that we spent weeks going back and forth about whether or not we were going to be together, and the whole time, she knew it wasn't going to last, because she wasn't interested in me anymore. She'd already told her friends that she'd be a single chica by the time she got back to campus.

So why did you keep leading my hopeful, dumb, puppy ass along?

I wonder if you've read this far; I wonder if you'll answer. I don't expect it; you didn't reply to anything else I wrote about you, other than to mention you read this, to which I can only presume that you were caustically amused or casually nonplussed by my suffering: "I read it. I'm surprised you're still friends with me." Did you enjoy knowing that I was still your lapdog, even after I'd felt all that? Did you give a fuck at all after reading the poem I posted last week?

If you answer, can I believe you?