#Thank you guys so much!!!aaaaahahaha

[thecringemachine]

I'm back!

First, I just want to say thank you for the sweet replies! I'm feeling much better! I just finished our All-Region Concert, and it was great! I'm now basically free for the next two days!

NOW! MY BREAK WAS NOT IN VAIN! I come bearing gifts!

This is the first one! The other one will be on a different post. SOMEWHERE IN THE WORLD (aka my house) A CHILD'S BIRTHDAY WAS ON THIS DAY! (aka my brother) SO HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THEM(him)! (He doesn't know about this, but still. Why not?)

Also, I've decided that I'm going to start making more art. I'm going to start with just, art. Fandom characters, dragons, OC's, and if ya'll have any requests, go for it. Then I will get to doing tk art!

NOW ENJOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Zane was walking past Lloyd’s room as he went to the kitchen, but suddenly felt himself pulled in. He whipped around to see Lloyd holding his arm.

“Hey, sorry Zane, can you help me with something?” The words tumbled out of his mouth, and Zane could tell that he was nervous. 

“Sure. What is it?” He asked suspiciously. Lloyd sat on his bed and Zane noted his flushed cheeks. Lloyd took a deep breath, and an embarrassed smile split his features. Zane cocked his head and sat down beside him.

“Are you ok?” He asked, concerned. Lloyd looked down a little more.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m just sortofinaleemood.” He mumbled out the last part quickly. Zane knew exactly what he said, but he was feeling like a little fun.

“What was that?” He asked innocently. Lloyd put his face in his hands, forcing the words out more slowly.

“I-I’m in a l-lee mood, ok?” He turned away, his embarrassment growing. Zane nodded.

“Well, in that case, what do you want me to do?” Lloyd looked at Zane in shock. He saw the smirk tugging at his lips and felt his cheeks get even more red.

“You know what!” Lloyd replied desperately. He had woken up with a major lee mood, and he thought Zane wouldn’t be as bad as the other guys, but he had been sorely mistaken. Zane shrugged innocently.

“You have to use words Lloyd. I may be a nindroid, but I can’t read minds.” He said in a mock apology.

Lloyd took a deep breath. Just say it. It’s just Zane! He tried one more desperate plea.

“C’mon Zane, you know what!” He knew he was repeating what he had said before, but he couldn’t find anything else to say. Zane shook his head.

“No, Lloyd, I do not.” He replied flatly. 

Lloyd turned away, and said shakily, just above a whisper.“P-please tickle m-me Zane.” Zane leaned closer.

“What’s that? I couldn’t hear you.” He said. Lloyd shook his head. Now Zane was going too far, but he couldn’t do anything about it.

“Please t-tickle me Zane!” He repeated, louder. Zane smiled and pushed Lloyd over onto the bed, straddling his waist.

“See, that wasn’t so hard.” Zane said as he immediately started spidering his fingers over Lloyd’s tummy. Lloyd squeaked and didn’t resist as his giggles tumbled out.

“Yehehes it wahahahas!” He repied. Zane let the smirk show now as he scribbled up to Lloyd’s ribs. Lloyd squealed and Zane’s eyebrows shot up.

“Huh, you really are in a lee mood.” He said.

“Yohohou thihihink?” Lloyd giggled out, making Zane’s smile grow. He didn’t know why, but he was feeling mean today, and he started using lighter tickles, poking and prodding at Lloyd’s sides.

Lloyd grunted in displeasure. He wanted this to be over already, but Zane was just taking his time. He wanted Za-

“AAHAHAHA! NOHOHO!” He squealed as he suddenly felt Zane squeeze his hips. Later he realized that Zane had been waiting for him to get distracted with his thoughts to attack. Lloyd squirmed underneath his captor as the unbearable sensations shot through him. Stupid nindroid smarts.

“HAHAHAHA! NAHAHO!” Lloyd laughed. Zane smirked and continued squeezing up Lloyd’s sides until he was digging into Lloyd’s ribs.

“AAAAAHAHAHA! NOHOHO! ZAHAHANE!” Lloyd shrieked. Zane was surprised that he hadn’t drawn any of the other ninja to the room.

“What is it Lloyd? You asked to be tickled, and, being the good big brother that I am, I helped out.” Zane said in a matter-of-fact tone. Lloyd couldn't give a snappy response as he was laughing too hard. Zane chuckled and gave a little bit, moving his hands down to vibrate into his tummy. He squeaked and giggled hysterically.

“HahaHAHaha! ZAHahane! It reHEheally tIHIhickles!” Lloyd gasped, his voice cracking. He squirmed roughly under Zane, almost bucking him off. Almost.

“Stop squirming so much. I can’t tickle you effectively like this.” Zane teased, wiggling his fingers into the hollows of Lloyd’s armpits. Lloyd squealed,and his laughter came out an octave higher, squeaking occasionally. Zane continued the merciless tickling until he thought Lloyd had had enough, and he then went back to scribbling over Lloyd’s stomach.

“Awww, does little Lloyd like the tickles?” Zane teased. “The oh-so-powerful Green Ninja huh? Tickle, tickle, little ninja.” Lloyd giggled harder as Zane cooed the words in his ear.

“Stahahahap teheheasing!” He giggled. Zane chuckled and started wiggling his fingers into Lloyd’s ribs again, making sure to get in between the bone where it’s sensitive.

Lloyd went ballistic. “AAAHAHAAA! NOHOHO! OKAHAHAY, ZANE! STAHAHAHAP!” He squealed. Zane gave his hips one last squeeze before finally stopping. He chuckled as he rubbed away any lingering tickles.

“Did that solve your problem?” He asked. Lloyd glared at him playfully.

“Yes, no thanks to you.” He added in an undertone, but Zane heard it.

“Is that so?” He asked, wiggling his fingers teasingly at Lloyd. Lloyd squeaked and backed away.

“WAhait! I was just kidding!” He said hurriedly, and Zane stopped. He ruffled Lloyd’s hair affectionately before leaving the room, leaving Lloyd in a content silence, up until he said this.

“Hey guys, guess what just happened!” He exclaimed, not at all loud enough for the others to hear him. Lloyd squeaked again, his cheeks instantly turning bright red.

“Zane no!” He gasped. Zane gave him a reassuring gesture and left. Lloyd glared at him as he left, soon falling back into that content silence.

#thank u #ninjago fanfiction #lee!lloyd #ninjago tickles #gift #tickle fics #updates

[digitalvoidheart]

You guys...

I CAN'T BELIEVE IM ALREADY AT 50!

Thank you guys so much! If it weren't for y'all I wouldn't be here.

I really don't know what to do but ugly cry in a corner of my home TwT.

I can't thank you guys enough! I love y'all out there for supporting me! ^w^

#Digitlvoidheart void rambles #50 followers #Thank you guys so much!!!aaaaahahaha #Imma retreat to the room I call my bedroom or mental asylum #=w=

[what-a-messsss]

1x10 rewatch

Ok, let’s get back to Walt Longmire: Disaster Boi of S1 and finish this season off with a...something.  Pleading look to the heavens, maybe?  

How do I keep forgetting that Lizzie is a thing, even after our decision to find her some nice Smitten Cowboy to be with?  Holy hell, but why are you still keeping your dead wife’s ashes in the kitchen?  At least you kept Lucian in your fucking truck.  In a coffee can.  What is with you and breakfast beverages??  We all know you need lots of therapy, but this seems like a kind of niche issue.

“Trust me, you don’t, uh, you don’t want that tea.”  Buddy.  

Poor Lizzie.  She really is so nice.  And he’s such a fucking disaster.  “You seem weird,” she says, in reaction to him going bug eyed from having to convince her not to drink his dead wife without her realizing that’s what he was doing.  Sweetie, you have no idea.  And she really does like him.  

This is.  So.  Gloriously awkward.  And Lizzie’s there in her bare feet.  And all we need is for Branch to show up and we’ll have a full house, and aaaaahahaha, Walt is so trying to freeze time with the power of his brain.  Staring off into the Not Here place with his mouth pressed just so...  Awwwww, suffer.

I had forgotten that Ferg was the one who actually did the body work on the Bronco!  Even did the paint work, because that old truck has never looked so good.  I know Omar loaned Walt his truck while the Bronco was “in the shop,” but I like that the writers gave Ferg the skills to do that.

“If anybody... has something they want to say, I suggest you think twice about it.”  We don’t need to say anything; we’re too busy laughing at you.

Oof, and then Lizzie hearing Martha’s voice still on the message greeting.  She’s really quite a good actress.  Lizzie isn’t a terribly subtle character generally, but she gives her these really fine microexpressions that give you occasional glimpses that there is more going on under the surface, and she’s not just an open book.  : (  Making me actually like her and feel bad, not just cringe when she comes on.  Dang iiiiiiiit.

Ok, that does NOT look like Sharpie.  I’m sorry, but that looks like a paint pen or lipstick more than it looks like a Shapie on the dead kid’s forehead.  Even if it were one of the jumbo Sharpies, they don’t write like that, they aren’t that colour on skin, and the thickness of the lines are all off.  Which is not really relevant, but it buuuuugs meeeee.  Pedantic little shit that I am.

Ope, Branch is basically past the angst about Walt not liking him and straight into just giving him nothing but attitude.  Which, while I can hardly blame anyone for giving Walt shit, does get old pretty fast.

Walt, you are So Bad at talking to people, even when it’s for the damn job!  Yeah, it’s fine to have Ferg fill Vic in, but at least acknowledge that she’s there, damn.  Honestly it would have been good for both Vic and Ferg for Walt to tell her to follow Ferg’s lead on this one.  He knows the case, the local history, the players, the situation, and probably more about archery than her, and she could stand to take the reminder that working 5 years in big city homicide still doesn’t make her the senior deputy and that she needs to be ok learning from even Ferg.  Shit, I keep finding more and more reasons to be annoyed at Walt.  Is he even really that good of a sheriff?  I’m shaking the ol’ Magic 8 Ball here, and signs point to frickin’ NO.  Ugh.

Five HUNDRED dollars says that he didn’t check with Mathias before going on the Rez for official police business again.  Jackass.

Can’t really blame Viho for being super bitter.  And Ayasha is so sweet.  This whole family dynamic is so well done.

Aw, Ferg is so excited about the gum wrapper.  “Still minty!”  How are you such a sparklebunny?  Bless.

Detective Falessssss.  His opening line is so great, but uuuuuuuhg, he’s as bad as Walt with his singlemindedness about the case.  

“Talk to Ruby.  She runs my life.”  She runs the department, bucko, and you’d be lost without her!  Lost, I say!  But you treat her like your personal social secretary, and that’s crap.

In Fales’ dubious defense, you were just super weird about that whole encounter.  

Omar!  You creepy little lecherous jackass.  Why am I still fond of you?  It’s really rather galling that I enjoy your character at all, but I doooo.  Thank gods he has the beard now; cleanshaven was just wigging me out.  “Vickie’s never shot before--”  “That is the second-to-last time you will ever call me that.”  And I chortle myself to distraction to the point that I have to rewind to catch the lines that I missed.  With her horrible plans when she gets drunk (I’m still cringing at that flashback of her with Travis) and her obvious thing for older men, I’m honestly kind of surprised she didn’t end up having a deeply regretted something with Omar at some point.  They do have good chemistry in an antagonistic way.  And he does so enjoy tugging her pigtails.  ...ew.  Why is my brain like this?  

“A little bit of practice, even a girl can make that shot.”  Aaaaaaand we’re back to kick him in the nuts.  Not that we ever really left there.  Such a butthead.

Boy oh boy, it sure is great the tone that all these shitty rich white people take saying “Indian.”

“That is what a normal person would do in your situation.”  Henryyyyyy, I love you so much.  Why can’t we spend more time with him in the early seasons?  Why are you drinking a Rainier?  Nooooo, please have better taste in beer than your boyfriend!  You have expensive tastes in bourbon, why can’t you have decent taste in beeeer?

Walt, what is the point of practicing darts when you are FIVE FEET from the board?  Seriously, you’re supposed to be like...  (a google later)  7 feet 9.25 inches away!  That’s...  That’s an oddly specific measurement.  Wtf.  No quickly apparent reason for that specific measure.  Resisting the pull of this particular rabbit hole to continue the ep.  

Aaaah, that’s right, this is still when Walt thinks that Henry may have killed the guy for him.  And BestDad Henry talked to Cady after the blow up about Branch, and he is a wonderful human being.  “It’s really none of your concern.”  Hoooooow dare you.  It is clearly a function of being bffs with that butthead that Henry just smiles (somewhat bitterly) at this instead of tripping him into the bar or shoving his head into the cigarette machine.  (Is that a cigarette machine?  Wtf is that thing with the yellow lit up portion towards the top? [14:05])  

“What a rich inner life you must lead.  From time to time, you should consider sharing some of it with the rest of us.”  The sass!  Swoon.  Henry.  Marry me.  

“I’ve got other problems.”  Buddy, you are other problems.

I wonder how many people/places Ruby just has on speed dial so that she can zoom through her list of “Where the hell is Walt now” to get in touch with him.

Aaaaand we’re back to Branch getting a bit big for his britches.  Whee.  Better fight about it like Big Boys.  Ffs.  “Go ahead.  Give me your best shot.”  ::Pat Benatar starts playing in the background::  Oh holy shit, I wish so damn much that I had any know-how about making vids.  I would be beyond amused by a spoofy hate vid of Walt and Branch being assholes to “Hit Me With Your Best Shot.”  Ooo, oo, or “Hit Me Baby One More Time!”  Aaaahahaha, these fucking losers and their fragile masculinity.  Get rekt.

Children.  Childreeeeen.  Stop it, or you can’t go to Timmy’s birthday party next week.

The irony of Vic being the one who is actually calling them on their shit and getting to do their damn jobs.  Well shit, they actually have a warrant this time.  Will wonders never cease.

Damn, Viho is smart.  Politically savy, pointing out the election coming up.  He’s got the wrong end of the stick this time, but the fact that he’s seen these angles and considered a bunch of things about the consequences already is telling about how smart he is.

Ruby is so pleased to see Henry.  She sounds tired (dealing with Walt and Branch and the sheer volume of bs that is accumulating in that office, no wonder) but still fond.  And the look she gives him.  I love her so much.  She puts up with so much.  And I love Henry continually calling Walt and the department on their shit and just being a dedicated activist for his community.

Fuck right off, Branch.  “Woah.  I know you’re Walt’s friend, Henry, but you don’t have any particular rights here.”  You are sliding into being a full on trashbag of a human being so fast, Brancheroo.  Reminding a young man of his rights and helping him avoid getting railroaded by your biased ass isn’t a bad thing, you rusty wingnut.

Ok, it might not be Glasses!Henry, but cowboy boots!Henry with the glow of righteousness upon him is also quite A Look.

Aaaaahahaha, for once Vic’s unholy yelling saves the day.  Being able to shout over a mass of raucous teens is usually reserved for teachers, camp counselors, and stage managers.  Looool and using detention as the threat.  And then jail.  Heeeh.

This is soooo weeeeeird: I’m starting to genuinely like Lizzie.  She just showed up and I remembered that it’s for dropping off that present, and then Vic is such a butt about it, and this poor lady is just trying to date a guy that she really likes and even gave him about 5 different outs that morning and he pointedly didn’t take any of them and dammit, Lizzie deserves better, too.  Fuck, Walt, you are such a disaster zone.  And Vic is a whole other disaster area that’s looking to, uhhhh, share a border.  Yike.

The present is definitely more Lizzie than it is Walt, with the wrapping and everything, but it’s still a sweet impulse.  AND THEN VIC, who told Walt how many times that he should call her?? gets all up in her business?  Poor Lizzie trying to figure out what the fuck this has to do with Vic or how it is even on the same planet as any of her business.  She does have some issues from her previous marriage, but she owns them.  And her BS meter is actually pretty finely tuned.  Sure picks up on Vic’s awkward boner for Walt in no time flat.  Not that it’s particularly well hidden, damn.

This kid is a rapist and a murderer and The Bad Guy, but at the same time, he is a high school kid, chances are he’s a minor, and Walt is talking to him alone in his office without any parent, much less a lawyer.  What the fuck.  

“Because Ayasha Roundstone told me so,” is a good line, solidly so.  And Walt’s all in The Righteous Hand of Justice mode or whatever, with the gravelly voice and standing over the kid, staring him down.  Effective.  (But where are that kid’s parents?)  Ah, that’s right, his dad is taking a shot at whatshisnoodle to make it look like he’s the killer.

Awww, Cady.  Honey, how long have you been waiting for you FailDad to show up?  Fuck.  Right.  This was how she found out that Martha was murdered.  He lies to her so much.  He manipulates her so much.  He passes all of this off on it being Martha’s wish, but he even acknowledges that Cady had a right to know and he chose not to tell her.  He denies Cady her own agency again and again.  He makes decisions for her without ever giving her a chance to choose for herself, and punishes her when she makes a choice that he doesn’t agree with.

It’s not “protecting” her from the pain.  “Protecting you from the pain,” is not a father’s job; it’s to teach their child how to manage it, help them live through it, and how to grow past it.  You’re damaging her.  Into the suuuuuuun, Walt!  Into the fucking SUN.

But fuuuuuuuuuuuck, her delivery of that same line, “Well, let me relieve you of that burden,” is sooo good.  You done fucked up, buster.  And you just keep fucking up.  I would say in new and exciting ways, but it’s generally in the SAME DAMN WAYS, dammit Walt.

This flashback is really difficult.  

They’re right about that technically being kidnapping, too.  Wyoming  § 6-2-201 specifically includes defining kidnapping as unlawfully confining another person, with the intent to “facilitate the commission of a felony; or Inflict bodily injury on or to terrorize the victim or another,” with unlawful confinement defined as “accomplished (i)  By force, threat or deception; or (ii)  Without the consent of a parent, guardian or other person responsible for the general supervision of an individual who is under the age of fourteen (14) or who is adjudicated incompetent.”  Meaning that not only could Walt charge Jake with the kidnapping of Rich, but also probably of Ayasha, since she was ruled an unreliable witness and would more than likely be legally considered a “mentally incompetent person” according to the states’ legal definitions.  

Not... that I have the Wyoming State Criminal Code downloaded on my computer.  >_> Certainly haven’t skimmed about 80% of it trying to figure out what charges would most make sense to be levied against Jacob at the end so that I don’t have to deal with him going in to a Federal prison on RICO charges.  <_<  Or what Cady probably should have been charged with after that mess with Tate and Catori.  Nnnnnnope.  Sure don’t, didn’t, haven’t. o_o

This is about the only time I can remember there being a legitimate reason for Walt not to have backup.  Since they’re off checking other locations.  Also, damn, that was some classic Old West quickdraw shit, Walt!  Noice!

“Why did you stop me?”  Because you have to testify, you little shit.  HE is not terribly bright.

Ooooooo, somehow I forgot that it was Branch who went to Jacob.  But that makes total sense; I can’t really see Jacob seeking Branch out, but once he walks himself into his office, Jacob will certainly play those new cards for all they’re worth.  Ooooooooo, and the Hotamétaneo’o headdress!  I’d forgotten about Branch seeing it, too!  Nice call back and foreshadowing to finish off S1!

“You will not find a chili cheeseburger of this caliber anywhere in Colorado.”  And now it’s 4:30 in the morning and I want a chili cheeseburger.  Thanks, babe.   Some daaaaaay, I will figure out which is my favourite Henry, but it is not this day, because godsdaaaaamn, the red checked shirt with that vessssst, is *chef kiss* a wonderful thing.   And the director knoooooows it = that pan down Henry’s back as he turns after saying, “I said nothing,” for noooo reason other than to have Henry’s ass on screen.  Seriously.  He says his line, it pans down, we get a primo shot of his jeans, and then it cuts away.  Solely a pan for Henry Butt.  Who directed this, and where do I send the fruit basket?  Dang, it was Nelson McCormick, and this was the only ep of Longmire he directed.  Huh.  In S1, there’s only one repeat director, who did eps 1, 3, and 7.  Interesting.

Focus, kid.  You are less than 3 minutes from the end and you’ve had it paused for over 5 minutes to wander around IMDb.  No wonder it takes you three flipping hours to watch one of these episodes.  What a mess, indeed.

“We all process grief in our own way.”  Buddy.  You have not processed.  You are a human <BUFFERING> screen.  You’re a walking loading symbol.  Walt, he gives you some basic vital statistics on the guy, but...  You haven’t even asked who it was.  Walt, you are so bad at this.  Fffffffff---  And there’s season 1.  lawd.

#Longmire #episode commentary #cady longmire #cassidy freeman #Walt #Henry Standing Bear #Branch is such a tool #Lizzie (Longmire) #How many tangents did I manage to go on this time? #Yikes

[someonetotaketheedgeoff-blog]

23.08.2018 - Journal: Chocolate Bavarians

I watched Brent go about his business in the convenience store while I smoked outside on the street corner. The Asian women behind the counter gave me her usual neutral nod from behind the counter. Brent’s signature full-bodied energy boomed throughout the store, asking the women how her day was while he opened a fridge. He’d told me earlier he was getting essentials like bread and milk but I saw him place a chocolate bavarian on the counter as well as packet of skittles. He paid, scooped the bag from the counter and walked out of the store.

‘Did you just buy a bavarian?’

‘What?’ He said looking away trying to hide his smile. ‘… Yeah … Yeah… I did’

‘Jesus Christ… It’s only 10:30’

I’d always tease him for his super indulgent purchases like HSP’s the size of briefcases or ice cream made from a type of confectionery you wouldn't expect to make ice cream. But I’d always end up eating it with him 8 hours later, sitting on the couch, watching garbage on the television as bad as the food. He always shared his shit. Usually quite aggressively, offering Tim-Tam’s by throwing them across the room, forcing me to catch them. I’d say ‘no thanks’ and place the unwanted Tim-Tam’s on the torn green leather couch he’d found on the side of the road. ‘Come on… You know you want it’ he’d say. I’d say ‘no’. He’d say ‘come on’. And eventually I’d eat it.

Occasionally I’d see James. Sometimes from outside the flat. Sometimes from inside the flat. Occasionally eating, wearing his puffer jacket and looking into space. Which doesn’t sound that strange. But it was the way he looked into space was notable. Sometimes it looked like he was seeing the entire universe in a fast forwarded time lapse yet his eyes and body language indicated it didn’t phase him, like he could take it or leave it. Other times it looked like his soul was dead. Looking into space the same way an ancient old man sitting in a nursing home might gaze at a television. It was certainly worth noting. Brent and I talked about it occasionally.

‘Dude… dude… look…’. I whispered, leaning forward on the manila folder coloured outdoor chair, gesturing inside to the kitchen.

We both looked to see James standing still, looking out the kitchen window. He stood with such calmness or possibly deadness doing nothing, uninterrupted for at least 20 seconds. We’d begin to feel strange watching, then we looked away.  

***

I walked up the door girl. The need to piss helped me to act sober. I pinched the tip of my tongue with my teeth. She looked vaguely at a clip board. She told me the entry price. I asked if a $50 note was too big. It wasn’t too big. I walked up the stairs. Paid the entry. Walked through a door with a circular window into the club.

I saw the others at the bar but my need to piss was so powerful I didn’t even feel like communicating. But after looking around for a moment and nearly walking into the kitchen I asked them. They told me.

2 vodka Redbulls were the same price as a pouch of rolling tobacco. I wanted to buy drugs. A terrible idea but I couldn’t see myself generating a sociable demeanour drinking scooners of Furphy for $10.50. I looked around the smokers area. It was too bohemian. Too many crossed legged people throwing their heads back to exhale smoke and reveal their no longer edgy septum piercings. I was too much of a beginner to be trying to find drugs in this type of environment, this was a few levels above and not the kind of place that people would self-advertise.

***

Later on I remember being in the main dance floor. I danced or what I thought was dancing while I held my eyes shut. I had to keep them shut. I couldn’t really work it out. Having them open felt like they were being squashed and pummelled by the lights. There weren’t even many lights. It was the darkest bar I’d ever been too. But I kept them closed and swayed from side to side.

After a while I realised I’d been watching a circular bunch of orange colour swirls around on a near black background. I watched it for awhile not noticing I didn’t seem to have a body any more. There was a lot going on, a few other swirls of different colours swirled off to the side. Someone brushed my body in the real world and I opened my eyes. I briefly considered the experience to be a bit weird but quickly went back to dancing. It can be a real problem when you can’t even escape your own visual reality by closing your eyes.

***

I kept looking at the sand hoping to see the drink bottle. But I couldn’t see it anywhere. I tried to distract myself. I tried to not look at my phone. I started worrying about everything. I began internally abusing myself. After a bit of that I’d look back at the sand.

I looked out at the sea to try and generate some kind of transcendental feeling. I scanned across but was disappointed to notice you could easily see the shores on the other side however there was one gap. That’s what I wanted. That’s where the good shit is. I don’t know why. That’s where you generate the good transcendental vibes.

I looked through the gap at the sea with nothing on the horizon. I was trying really hard to have a spiritual moment but my throat was sore and my nose ran. I kept looking though. What the fuck was I looking or hoping for I wondered.

Sitting in the car I started to worry about something pointless. We drove past a massive outdoor/camping store. I envisioned getting a job there. I imagined not hating it. I imagined enjoying it. I toyed with having a completely different life and mindset where I loved working there. Where for reason there emited and endless drive to help people buy the perfect tent. I imagined never feeling tired in my body. No aching and no headaches. I wouldn’t be the joking type but I wouldn’t be too serious. I imagined I’d have a bit of a fringe that curled a bit to the side. I imagined getting out of my car in the car park with one of those sort of lanyed key chain drawstring necklace type thing that I’d roll tight over right index finger flicking it back and fourth in a circular motion as I walked across the concrete ground. I’d be freshly shaven but I wouldn't itch or have blemishes on my skin. I’d work fulltime hours. I’d indulge in things at home like television and feel like I’d earned it. Occasionally I’d play a brief game of FIFA or tag someone in a funny meme.

There’s was almost no one on the beach.

On the way back I looked across the water. A green field stretched over like a dashboard. I was envious. I always feel envious when I see stretches of nature from a distance and it doesn’t look like there’s many people around. I imagine walking to get there on my own.

***

Every day I wake up the same. I sleep in. Snooze for as long as possible. Currently I’ve been getting up in the evening. Sometimes as late as 5pm. I missed a shift on Sunday I didn’t know about. I haven’t been to work in 5 days.

I work in a warehouse washing plates and glasses. It makes me insane. At work I listen to Bill Burr’s podcast and lose my entire mind. At the end of shifts I walk out into the car park with my teeth clenching and Bill Burr’s voice sounds unhuman. 

My wrists are sore. Particularity the left one. The job doesn’t pay me properly. They underpay me and having minimal motivation to do almost anything I neglected to deal with it. Then I idiotically hope it’ll sort itself out, turning up to work, secretly resenting my co-workers until one evening I was polishing glasses, my legs aching like the legs of an old dinning room chair when I decided to have the 2nd or 3rd cigarette of the hour (who knows). I knew people were upstairs in the office but no one had come down in a long time. Occasionally I’d look up at the ceiling while polishing glass number 678 and look for cameras. There were no cameras.

So I thought ‘fuck it’, rolled a cigarette and opened the door to the car park. I watched a black guy with his pants down to his knees receive a blow job from the silhouette of a girl. He was leant over in a strange position as if doing awkward push ups on the bench in the centre of the car park. I watched as he gently edged the silhouette of his cock into the girls mouth like it was a camp site puppet show. I looked at all of this for 1.25 seconds with the cigarette dangling in my mouth. My heart started pounding real fast. I locked eyes with the guy. My eyes swirled and flickered, like two dirty share-house microwaves set side by side in the rain, one cooking a potato wrapped in tin foil, the other one cooking a laptop that played a montage of all the ‘public’ porn I’d ever watched. I turned to the right, walking along the side of the other warehouses, then around the corner. I lit the cigarette and breathed/whispered to myself - ‘What the fuck?!’.

I waited a minute and then as slowly as possible tried to peek around the corner. As soon as I saw anything I pulled my head back. Don’t know why. In that moment I didn’t care about seeing the blow job any more. I mean sure, we probably all think we’d like to see some live sex act in a car park performed by strangers in the moon light, but do you want to watch it for longer than a few seconds? Maybe it’s my attention span. It’s so poor I even skip through porn compilations now.

I finished smoking, rustled up some courage and walked around the corner like I was leaving the house during a rainstorm. They were finished. The guy was walking away, very slowly, looking very relaxed. The girl wandered slowly behind him scrolling on her phone not facing me. As I walked up to the door he saw me again.

‘Hey man!’. He said, grinning.

‘Hey dude…’. I said nervously. ‘… Sorry’. I added.

‘Aaaaahahaha’. He laughed as he turned around.

I went through the door to the warehouse and shut it behind me.

I felt shaken up. Which’s weird knowing all the fucked up shit I’ve seen on the internet. I guess everything’s more visceral live. It was almost a real Bukowski moment! I was excited but also sad that I found it exciting.

A girl from the office clopped down the stairs in her medium high heels and made some comment about me still being there or something about it being dark. I squeezed out my last morsel of social energy and said something forgettable. She hovered around the door while more filler conversation happened.

‘Um… I know we don’t know each other very well… but ah… can I tell you something?’. I stubbled out like a less cute, D-grade Hugh Grant with ADD, absent mindedly trying to remember the last time he’d called his Mum.

‘Ah… Yeah...? Sure?’. She replied with politely repressed apprehension.

‘Well… I… you know the car park courtyard thing?… Just… well… I… ah… I don’t… I’m trying to gauge your sensitivity… I… um…’. I said.

‘Aw dude you can say whatever you want to me, it’s fine’. She laughed, stretching her face outwardly like pizza doe with make up on, revealing a missing tooth in the back of her mouth. Her face then settled and I felt a bit of her warmth and realised she seemed quite sweet. I started feeling mean about my general resentment. I told her what I’d just seen. She very much enjoyed the story. We laughed by a big green garbage bin as we smoked. I ran the story into the ground and then she asked me what I did. I talked about stand-up and she talked about Hughesy. I tried to swing the conversation back to comedy. I talked about how brutal stand-up is. At the end of the conversation I mentioned I’d been underpaid. She said she’d help me out. I said goodbye and walked home.