Posting Notes

I'm watching the new sequel to Jumanji that they made with that old wrestler, the Rock. It's funny and has me laughing, which is why I opted to turn it on, instead of a serious movie. I had a pretty good day but now it's 2 am and I'll admit I'm feeling sort of melancholy over , yes, Jennifer. Sucks don't it? Just seems like she's never going to really leave my poor mind.

The rotten infestation! It was really extreme. Like she made a thousand clones of herself and multiplied all over some giant hotel that exists in my skull. Hell, not just an hotel, but a literal entire street full of them! She's got her own Trump Tower up there, a dozen smaller skyscrapers, a restauruant, a house, apartments, everything. How many have I evicted her from so far? Probably ...hmm...half? Maybe three quarters? Still a good bit to go I guess...and lord...it really just sucks.

I think the thing that gets me most is the way so many things seem to remind me of her. For example, even jumanji unfortunately reminds me of Jennifer, because I remember we had a day where we discussed it. I sent her a YouTube link of one of the scenes...I think the one where Robin Williams finally escaped from the game and then he goes back to visit the girl who was with him, when he got sucked in. She faints at the doorway of the house. Yea..I sent Jennifer that one. I even remember exactly what she said….

“I thought you wouldn't watch Robin Williams cus he killed himself and it made you sad?”

“Oh it's true Jen. But Jumanji..I always rewatch it sometimes yknow? I loved it as a kid.”

“So did I…”

Sad ain't it? And it wasn't just Jumanji, either, that reminded me of her. There seemed to be about a dozen other films on the screen, as I scrolled looking for one to watch, that brought her to mind. Films that I felt we might have seen or discussed together, etc. Its kinda crazy to me cus , like, my relationship with her was majority online, and not in person, yet it feels like so much of it was so real, since for a long time, it partially was. It's really so bizarre. Usually a relationship is either all online or all physical. This one is instesd like some oddball dream memory that keeps cutting in at different frequencies. She pops in as a real memory, and then she filters out as just being the text on the screen that she usually was, for all our deepest conversations. And then of course the few phone conversations. We were essentially just beginning to have those, when the cut was made. She had apparently always wanted to do the phone, “but I thought you hated it...so I never asked...I thought you preferred text…”

Right when I saw she was happy to do phone of course, I'll admit I became obsessed. She made it sound like she wanted to! So I started to try to make it an every night thing. Alas, it didn't work, which was one reason my aggravation definitely increased. She was always busy putting the kids to sleep, and then afterwards shed pass out and never say goodnight. Usually always around 9ish. The few times we did get on the phone were fun though. Well, not always. A few times it descended into a bad argument. The best time was one night when I somehow flipped her into a good mood, which was extremely rare. We were laughing and laughing. It was so rare though, to hear Jen laugh. She really was in an extremely agitated, dark place, in my opinion. Even now, I sort of think she may have suicided. Honestly.

For instance, her Instagram is private but I know the address. I go to it every few days just to see. The default picture never changes and , since insta shows you the post number (even if it's private) I can see she hasn't made a new post in, it seems, 3 weeks now. You also might remember the blog of poems I set up exclusively for her. I wrote of it before. Well, she hasn't visited in awhile now. I think that's when she really started to feel “gone” to me. Dead. It's so scary. Thinking of her as dead. I hate it. Does she think of it the same way for me? Does she cry? Does she type letters she wants to send --- but then deletes? Have some of these random numbers that have dialed me recently -- but never left voicemails --- been her? Has she maybe even driven by my house just to see, for the fuvk of it? Or is she just seeing some other dude hardly thinking of it? Maybe she's back with the baby daddy.

What I think is most likeliest of all, however, is that she's congratulating hersef on staying away from me. This is something I used to do too. In a way, yes, I'm even doing it now. For Jennifer, this leaving people behind game is brand new. I introduced her to it and...it's prolly making her feel strong. Not me though. I've done this too many times to get anything from it now. I don't feel better or stronger for leaving Jen. It was never my intention, after all. I just feel shitty and sad. Everything is starting to feel so painfully far away to me now. Her face, even though i have dozens of pictures of her on my iPhone, is starting to fade. Really. It sucks because I don’t think she really loved me either. I sorta go back and forth. Sometimes i’m convinced she definitely loved me. Other times, not at all.

I’m looking at pictures of Paris now. Some building called La Conciergerie. lI’ve never seen it before but it’s beautiful looking and of course taking my mind from Jennifer. Lord knows, if i was on a train somewher in Europe, as i wrote the other day, all my grief would definitely be GONE, and i know that for an absolute fact. Like, i would not feel even a minor sting, from this pathetic love affair i had with Jen, if i was anywhere traveling in Europe. I don’t think i would feel any sadness about anything at all. It’s like this movie about JUmanji ...thats what Europe is to me..i don’t care what anyone says… it’s like entering into a game, a theme park, Adventure land. The sun is mightier there, the rain sweeter, the rivers prettier, thepeople cheerier, the roads easier. All my sad existence would be forgotten in a moment, if i could reach Paris!!! How do i get there?

What is the quickest route? Is there any bridge at all, at this point, to get there? I feel trapped. This hobbit hole I am in!! This basement from which I type to thee. How does one escape it? If this is a game,my life, then I am sinking beneath the sands. I am an artist trapped in my garret! To Paris let me go!!! Jennifer would be forgotten before the flight even landed at the airport. What book would i read on the plane? And of course...how would Jennifer the Traitorous feel, when she finally --somehow--found out that i had gone to Paris, never to return!? “Didn’t you hear? Joey took up permanent residence in Europe. Don’t ask me how he did it. They say he got citizenship now. He’s not coming home. I think he came into some money…”

Can my reader even imagine the mighty sting of that, on Jenny’s dark heart, if she were to hear it? To think that some people have lived in this world and tasted such fine success as that...success that equals revenge. Hows it happen? It reminsd me of a concert i once listened to of Bruce Springsteen. He was playing in Freehold, New Jersey, where he came from. “There are some girls who broke my heart in this town; i bet they’re real sorry they left me now..” How must such victory feel? Maybe hte sweetest part of victory is not what you win, but the people you know who will hear you have won. Maybe i needed Jennifers cold knife inside of me, to feel alive again...to achieve victory. Was her knife cold enough? Will it somehow manage to push me to Paris?

Who knows. Paris. Gotta stop thinking about it… gotta re route my mind elsewhere...get serious...get real.. .suddenly an image of old Uncle Harry the Hated flashes by me… i hate Harry, lord knows, i hate him and i hate his wife and i hate his kids...but he always passes in my mind when I am angriest, when i am saddest. Often have I fantasized about spitting upon his gravestone! Dark fantasy , ain’t it? I always regret it when it comes. I hate Harry but I bet i will still cry when he dies. I remember listening to FranK Sinatra with him once in the car…

Gah what am i talking about???? Uncle Harry, can’t you fucking leave me alone man? Why do you haunt my fucking memory and my mind Uncle Harry? Oh maybe its because you were here today, briefly… i had to listen to you walking around upstairs. As always i made sure to shut off all my lights. No, Harry, I will never come say even “hello” to you again. I have shut down as a human being. Do you feel bad about it, Harry? Something in you just...twist ya..the wrong way? To know that all the snide comments you made to me over the years didn’t help -- but only hurt? That i feel condemned and beaten and lonely? Hows it feel Harry? To know that i perceive you as a dark enemy of mine, as someone who i am mortified to even say “hello” to? Hows it feel? Does it feel good Harry? Vaffancul Harry. Fuck you Harry!!!

I should really get back to writing in that book about Franny but i haven’t looked at it in a bit. I was talking to some kid on Twitter today , another writer, from Spain (no im lying, hes from here) who was saying how he sells books on Kindle and Amazon. I have written so much but never bothered with self publishing. I always thought it was a waste of time and that if i did it ,m y books would never be able to be published elsewhere. Now I’m sort of thinking about it. I might start looking into it. Soon! I swear! Not tonight...but soon. Maybe --who the fuck knows--I’ll be like Marquis de Sade, and i’ll get to Paris like this, selling books on Amazon? its a long shot but meh… so is life….

Mostly what i’m worried about is the monetary stuff, like how one goes about linking it to a bank account and all that. Stuff like that -- im a moron--it confuses me. I’m wondering, you see, about the many “secret” erotica stories i’ve written and if they could be worth any money. I’ve written some terribly perverted tales about sex, mostly interracial stuff, lots of homosexual, forced feminization stuff. I have a Twitter account with nearly 2,000 followers also dedicated to all those topics. I am just wondering if i could somehow discreetly link an Amazon page to that account, and sell sex stories. You’d probably be surprised. Of course i also want to sel lmy “Real” stories too. Franny for example, thats a story i’d pubish under a proper name, not a fake “erotica name”. What could my erotica name be? Sarah Slay.

OK, we can have a little fun and i’ll show you a fragment of one of the stories. Just to show you how ghastly and fucked up and weird they really are. Cause i know you’re a pervert and i know you’re interested. Here we are:

I was literaly bound and gagged, a pair of her mans boxers, with semen all over them, stuffed in my mouth. She had tied my hands above my head, and had me sitting on a stool in the dark. The closet was open only ever so slightly so that I could see a bit out of it. I was dressed, by her, in the exact same outfit she was also wearing: Knee high pink sox, a plaid pink skirt, and a crop top off my shoulder. She had put my hair up in pigtails, same as hers. For two months she only called me Wendy. Her name.

What do you think? Weren’t expecting it? You’re disgusting? Surprised by the outfit the freak character is wearing? Knee high pink socks! Gosh I’d kill to be dressed in a pair of those right now, sugar. Knee highs and a lil plaid pink skirt like I described there. Gawd you don’t even know baby.. i’d feel so free if i was drssed in that. Imagine me walking around with nice pretty little shaven legs in some Paris hotel! With some cute little Madonna song playing behind me as I walk thru my hotel room, looking out over all the city. I’ll be smoking some marijuana, drinking some wine..three naked men I’ve paid for (Africans) laying on the bed. They’re the ones bound and gagged, but their big black dicks hanging out for me to suck when I want and …..

Oh god. I’m so fucking sorry for that. It’s disgusting. I’m pushing HER back inside her box. “GET AWAY GO GO GO GO”

She just comes out randomly when she wants and thinks its ok. Shes very confused. Thinks this is all easy… its not! Not at all.  

Gotta get back to the Jumanji film is what I gotta do. Sugar.

Sorry to leave in a rush but….

hehe. A girls gotta do what a girls got-- a man g---a girl -- agirl-- girll..