i don't know if i can do this.

i don't know if i should do this.

i really don't know.

I make the bloggings.

I’ve kind of lost touch with my blogging spirit. I used to do it all the time. I used to update my LiveJournal at least once a week, frequently more than that. Early in 2005, I took a leave of absence from LJ and never really went back… not in full force, anyway. I just dropped by every once in a while. And after Angela quit her journal, I pretty much abandoned LJ as well. I still check friends’ entires and sometimes leave comments, but that’s about it. I haven’t written a real blog entry since July.

Meh.

Hillary fussed at me Friday night for being a poor blogger, so I’ll give it another shot. Not like I have anything better to do, right?

The thing is… it’s like I don’t really even remember how to blog properly. I used to just have words pouring out of me, detailing everything that was going on. And now, I just don’t have that feeling. Not really, anyway.

For example, my sister got married this weekend, and I know I could tell you all about it, but I don’t know why I should. Does it even matter to you? There’s only one person on my friends list who has ever even met my sister.

If you’re still reading, then you must be thinking that I have something worth saying. Well, let’s see if I can fix that little misconception. Hah.

The wedding went well. The event was at the Memphis Botanical Gardens, and the weather turned out quite favorably. That’s no small bit of luck, considering the notoriously fickle Memphis weather. There was only one technical error – we started ushering the grandmothers to their seats one song too early, but only those of us who knew the plan beforehand were aware of this, so it’s not like it ruined anything. It actually sped things up, and I’m sure the guests would’ve been thankful for it.

Lisa marched down the aisle as a string quartet played the traditional wedding march. She really was beautiful. She looked like Queen Amidala from Star Wars. And when Will saw her for the first time that day… I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look happier.

The ceremony was simple and brief, but very sweet. I cried a little, which I had not anticipated. Thankfully, I had stuffed my pockets with Kleenex just in case. ;-)

The reception afterward was reasonably lively, and thankfully devoid of the tackier wedding traditions. There was no smashing of cake in anyone’s face (thank the gods), and there was no garter thrown (again, thank the gods).

The food was reasonably tasty, though I didn’t eat much. I spent most of my time milling about, saying hello to the many relatives I hadn’t seen in years. I danced with Lisa for a bit, then returned to meandering among the crowd, frequently stopping for pictures.

Oh, the pictures.

At least I looked nice in my tux. ;-)

When Lisa and Will were ready to leave, everyone lined up and instead of throwing rice, we blew bubbles (every seat at the reception got a little bottle of bubble-stuff and one of those little wands you blow through). The shower of bubbles was nice, since they float a little instead of just plopping down like rice, and there’s no cleanup afterwards.

It was a good day.

I started a 401k today.

The joke is that I really can't imagine living long enough to even reach retirement age. Big joke. All it is.

There's a difference between kinda wanting to die and actually making it happen. I stubbornly refuse to give in to depression and even wave my middle finger at the Reaper himself. But that doesn't mean the feeling isn't there.

I'm broken.

Bummer, huh?

I have a bad feeling about this...

I was struck a moment ago by a sudden wave of dread, like a gust of hot air blowing by me. I don't have any logical reason to suspect that something bd has happened... but I fear that may be the case. I need to go somewhere...

I’m moving on July 7. My friend Lee (known to some as The White Russian) and I are going to split the cost on a downtown Memphis apartment. The lease is only six months, so that’s good. Long enough to be worth the effort of moving, but short enough that it’s reasonably easy to get out of if necessary.

There’s a little more business to be done before it’s completely official, but the deposit is paid and the applications have been signed, and the credit check’s done. Blah.

I’ve been packing and cleaning a bunch lately. It needs to be done and helps to keep my mind from dwelling on unpleasantries.

I’ve thrown a bunch of stuff away. Hah… while cleaning out my closet, I found a locked chest of some old things stuffed beneath a bunch of boxes. There were some amusingly random things in there that, for the life of me, I can’t remember why I kept. From the looks of things, it seems like everything in there was from my junior high school (and maybe early high school) years. A few old school papers were in there, mostly dated 1991. A few were as recent as 1994.

But more interesting was the copy of “Easyriders” that was in there. Hah… that would have been the first dirty magazine I ever bought (not that I’ve ever bought that many…). There’s not even any full nudity in it, just a few topless shots of girls with motorcycles. I’ve never really had a thing for motorcycles, but if I recall correctly, the gas station where I bought it didn’t happen to carry anything like Playboy or Penthouse or whatever.

Even lamer, I found a Victoria’s Secret catalog, which I can only assume I swiped from the mail at some point. From the looks of the fashions inside (there were a few non-lingerie type outfits in there), I’d say it must’ve been from the late 80s or very early 90s. That is to say, it was from the time I was just starting to like girls. Hah. I must’ve been such a little horndog.

Ah, fond memories of classic wanking sessions.

I also found my 7th grade class yearbook (1990-91). Brought back quite a few memories. I looked like such a nerd. Hah. Lots of people in there I haven’t seen in years. I don’t really have anything to say to them now, but it was amusing to remember old times. I wonder if any of my old teachers are still there? I don’t know. I know the neighborhood where I lived and went to school back then has gotten a bit rougher since back in the day.

I know that I bought a yearbook in my senior year of high school, but I don’t think I bought any of the 8th-11th grade ones. I don’t know where the senior year one is though.

Of all the little trinkets I’ve found, I’ve been keeping the ones that have at least some good memories attached, and ditching the rest. It’s not that there haven’t been bad times, but honestly… I’ve dwelt on those enough and it’s not like I had forgotten any of the bad memories anyway. Those are the easy ones to remember. It’s the good stuff you have to hang on to.

More later, should insomnia continue to prevail over the night…

My dream last night

It’s candlelit and cool. The faint smell of lavender is in the air. Angela is wearing a purple robe of thin silk. It’s short, with the tail of the robe barely reaching mid-thigh. Her legs are crossed and her toes are painted a light metallic shade matching her robe.

I kneel before her and kiss her feet. They’re clean and feminine and pretty. I kiss her toes with near-reverence. My kisses wander upwards, tracing along her feet, her ankles, her knees.

She opens her robe and moves to make herself comfortable on the bed. I part her legs and lick and kiss her mound. She inhales deeply when I pay attention to her clit. I am lost in heaven and her scent intoxicates me beyond the ability of any drug. Her fingers and running through my hair. She comes with a shudder and deep sigh.

She pulls me upwards, and comply, brushing my lips along her body. Her belly, her breasts and nipples, her neck. Our mouths touch and part and hot tongues intertwine. She rolls me onto my back and straddles me. Her hands are on my chest and her hips rock slowly. She leans forward just enough that her nipples are rhythmically brushing against my chest in time with her rocking motion. She bites my shoulder hard enough that it’s felt, but gently enough that it doesn’t really hurt.

She slowly licks the outer edge of my ear and whispers “come for me.” When I climax, my gaze is locked with hers. I am lost inside her deep blue eyes, and I have never seen anything so beautiful. I am inside her physically. I am inside her emotionally. I am at one with her and the universe and all is well and I am deeply, truly and genuinely happy.

And then I wake up.