Icarus's blog: "Hurts to watch."

I much prefer winter.

No allergies.
No tardsy co-workers fretting over thunderstorms (surely their families will be killed in the havoc of the maelstrom)
No legions of ants swarming from every entry way on last year's trails.
No cats fucking on my front porch.

...
seriously I had to bang on my door and yell at a few of em.

and this is when young mens eyes turn to the flights of
blah blah blah blah blah blah

Granted, I'm still a young man.
And in these parts I'm the closest thing you'll find to an underwear model...

okay I might not be a body builder but I'm the hottest non gym rat I've seen in the area.

And yet...

*idly throws his hacky sack at the wall*

Its a real blow to one's ego when he's measured against other men
and not immediately found to be superior.

Maybe I'm still reeling from ego blow prime.

Maybe that's why I lost all the weight.
But I'm probably still the same awkward victimized stranger in a tighter skin.

*le sigh*

I just want to be loved.

Let's spare ourselves the platitudes this round.

I swear the first muggy day we have and the sirens start.

Can't wait for the gunshots.

Why am I not having overnight guests
and telling very interesting stories in a dimly lit room?

Tonight I put myself to bed.
With a short glass of cognac
another coat of paint
a pink antehystemine
and an open window on a thick april night.

I think women like the -idea- of me.

Employed. Likes kids. Artistic. Hurt. Driven but scared. Fearless in the face of mortality. Sensative. Obsessive. Kissy. Poetic. Dreamy pragmatism. No secrets. Someone with a worse story.

But that's the dream, and the reality takes a world full of empty silence and heavy space in the same room.

Maybe I'm unliveable, and most women who give me a shot can pick up on that. I'll let you pick my brain, rather than think about nothing.
And what you find you're inclined to fear.

Seems to happen every time.

Maybe I'm thinking too god damn much.

I have that tendency.