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Where I'd Take You on a Date.
You're asking me where I'd bring you, or telling me where you'd take me?
I need to know what to wear.
[rosiemoonjumper] 9:52 pm: cheeks are great
[rosiemoonjumper] 9:52 pm: bum and face
[rosiemoonjumper] 9:52 pm: oh yeah bum here = bottom not street vagrant
you better bring me somewhere classy
Yes. I want to know. Where would a strapping young lad like you take a strapping young lad like me? To the strapping factory?
(please, save all strap-on jokes for another thread.)
[rosiemoonjumper] 9:52 pm: cheeks are great
[rosiemoonjumper] 9:52 pm: bum and face
[rosiemoonjumper] 9:52 pm: oh yeah bum here = bottom not street vagrant
Of course you assume he's taking us for food. Maybe he would take one of us for a stroll through the park, or to the beach. THOSE THINGS ARE FREE. Stop trying to ruin our dates.
Earlier this evening, Gordon Blackstone.
Monkeywright, I'd bring you on a picnic to the Hundertwasserhouse in Vienna. It was basically designed to counter the clinical look of modern architecture. We would drink white wine and have a fondue. After that, we'd have a post-meal cigar each and walk along the Danube, reminiscing about the Viennese scenes in Tours of the Black Clock. I'd pay for the taxi to your hotel and then, sorrowfully, depart once more for the airport.
I'd say; "It was good seeing you old friend."
You'd nod. "Yeah. I really enjoyed this evening."
"Don't cry, Mike. I must leave."
"When will I see you again?"
"When God wills it."
"Pfft. God."
"I'm in Eindhoven, next autumn, if you care for the Lichtjesroute."
"What's that?"
"I'll show you."
"Please do."
We'd share a moment in silence.
"It was good seeing you."
"Yes. It was."
And then I'd be gone.
Regardless of both being guys, I doubt Alex would date me.
"Earlier this evening, Gordon Blackstone. He was banned why? Frank claims I was lying of Tony. Though he will always be with me. For a thought is important no matter what it be. I think Tony Demireo (Life Martyr or for some []/bracketz) will be around for a long time..." -Gordon Blackstone
you better bring me somewhere classy
Oh, Eddy. We would travel to Lima and attend a fund-raiser in the financial district. We'd dine at a table for 100, accompanied by the greatest minds of the fourteenth century - we would talk about how St. John of Damascus made Bhudda a catholic saint under the name of Josephat. We'd drink the softest of champaignes inside and when the ball started we'd exit to the balcony and share a cigar, too, marvelling at the thick congestion of Peruvian traffic, the driver's screaming and railing against each other, heads flushed with cheap cocaine and libidos calmed by the thriving prostitution business.
"There's something about sky scrapers that you miss, I guess, in Dublin."
"Life is treating you well, there?"
"I suppose it is."
"You suppose?"
"Yes. I suppose."
We would catch our seperate flights in the morning with a firm handshake.
"Farewell."
"All the best, Eddy."
i dare you to date me.
Ah, Barbara. With you I'd be so acutely aware of my territorial intrusion as a male into an intimate encounter with a female who currently holds another man's heart above the weight of my own. I'd meet you at your front door, swaying with my paregoric charm, and with cordial slur would offer you a ticket to Thailand. There we'd stumble along the Khao San road, we'd eat noodles in a shack of a café and would hastily catch a coah to Ko Pha Ngan, chain smoking along the way and assuming details of our fellow traveller's lives through our shared, limited, knowledge of cold reading. Each person we met we'd reintroduce ourselves to, subtely flirting with each other with implications of you being a millionairess and me, your toy boy librarian, who's oft caught pillaging the wine cellars. We'd have a joint at sunset, on the beach, and you'd confess your growing fondness for me was eclipsed by your love for Ludwig. I'd smile and you would not return my kiss on the cheek.
"Well, it cannot be said today was lacking in beauty."
You'd blush, but I'd make a point of looking at the sunset instead of you.
"Pacific sunset, is this, or are we looking out over the Indian Ocean?"
"Names, names. It is a sunset, they are beautiful all over the world."
"There are no beaches like this in Germany."
You'd frown. "That's not what I meant Alex. Thank you for bringing me here."
"Yes." I'd say.
Just somewhere where there's no cabbage!
Nate, of course. I feel as a duo we'd be in our element in Las Vegas, feigning ourselves as naive tourists as we hustled the locals along The Strip. We'd lunch in the Bellagio and after a quick stroll around the roulette wheels we'd buy ourselves a pair of zoot suits, yours Welleseque, mine a subtler charcoal - I'd leave give the hat to some waddling Idaho tourist with a typically crapulent wink. We'd drink up then, in a titty bar, and we'd make that fantastic animated gif of a hooker doing a rail off your cock. Spent and feeling the heartless approach of a come down, we'd retire to the Monte Carlo with our hookers in tow, and, beguiled by our wastrel charms and loose pockets, they'd hold us in our sleep, stroking our heads and helping themselves to what scraps of narcotica were left. By noon the next day they'd fret over our lack of stirrance, and upon inspecting our limp bodies closer they'd find naught but a pair of mannequins and a crude smiley face drawn on in marker. They too would have fallen to our hustling prowess.
"We should give this guy the bird in a can." I'd say.
"What the fuck is a bird in a can?"
"You know, like a Neil Diamond but with the Ruby-Slippers twist."
"You're just making shit up now. How many times have you seen Ocean's Eleven?"
"Twice."
"Liar."
"Four or five times, big deal."
"Jesus."
"Actually, I really quite liked Ocean's Thirteen, though I also thought it was the weakest of the three as far as heist films went."
"You liked F for Fake, though."
"That film is the apotheosis of deceivery."
"I fucking love that film."
"Yeah.
"Are you listening to me, I LOVE that film."
"I heard for fuck sake man, I fucking heard."
"I need more DRUGS."
"You know, after this, we could probably get a suitcase full of them up. Fear and Loathing style."
"Erm..."
"What?"
"Man, I can't. I gotta go home."
"Oh, fuck you."
"Sorry man."
"Fuck you!"
"I can't fucking help it!"
"Fuck you!"
We'd fight, and you'd win, and I'd sulk my way back to the hotel.
"We should give this guy the bird in a can." I'd say.
"What the fuck is a bird in a can?"
"You know, like a Neil Diamond but with the Ruby-Slippers twist."
"You're just making shit up now. How many times have you seen Ocean's Eleven?"
"Twice."
"Liar."
"Four or five times, big deal."
"Jesus."
"Actually, I really quite liked Ocean's Thirteen, though I also thought it was the weakest of the three as far as heist films went."
"You liked F for Fake, though."
"That film is the apotheosis of deceivery."
"I fucking love that film."
"Yeah.
"Are you listening to me, I LOVE that film."
"I heard for fuck sake man, I fucking heard."
"I need more DRUGS."
"You know, after this, we could probably get a suitcase full of them up. Fear and Loathing style."
"Erm..."
"What?"
"Man, I can't. I gotta go home."
"Oh, fuck you."
"Sorry man."
"Fuck you!"
"I can't fucking help it!"
"Fuck you!"
We'd fight, and you'd win, and I'd sulk my way back to the hotel.
in the heat of burning air to watch the naked famele body is insane,
i dare you to date me.
Ah, Barbara. With you I'd be so acutely aware of my territorial intrusion as a male into an intimate encounter with a female who currently holds another man's heart above the weight of my own. I'd meet you at your front door, swaying with my paregoric charm, and with cordial slur would offer you a ticket to Thailand. There we'd stumble along the Khao San road, we'd eat noodles in a shack of a café and would hastily catch a coah to Ko Pha Ngan, chain smoking along the way and assuming details of our fellow traveller's lives through our shared, limited, knowledge of cold reading. Each person we met we'd reintroduce ourselves to, subtely flirting with each other with implications of you being a millionairess and me, your toy boy librarian, who's oft caught pillaging the wine cellars. We'd have a joint at sunset, on the beach, and you'd confess your growing fondness for me was eclipsed by your love for Ludwig. I'd smile and you would not return my kiss on the cheek.
"Well, it cannot be said today was lacking in beauty."
You'd blush, but I'd make a point of looking at the sunset instead of you.
"Pacific sunset, is this, or are we looking out over the Indian Ocean?"
"Names, names. It is a sunset, they are beautiful all over the world."
"There are no beaches like this in Germany."
You'd frown. "That's not what I meant Alex. Thank you for bringing me here."
"Yes." I'd say.
i have a date with flipping alex GARLAND!
<3
that beer can is so phallic and unsettling. there are some definite undertones to that picture...
My first thought was how cold and goosebumpy that'd make you.
In English, when we say: "It is raining"
What the fuck is IT? Sometimes I wake up in a cold sweat afraid that IT has found me.
you better bring me somewhere classy
Oh, Eddy. We would travel to Lima and attend a fund-raiser in the financial district. We'd dine at a table for 100, accompanied by the greatest minds of the fourteenth century - we would talk about how St. John of Damascus made Bhudda a catholic saint under the name of Josephat. We'd drink the softest of champaignes inside and when the ball started we'd exit to the balcony and share a cigar, too, marvelling at the thick congestion of Peruvian traffic, the driver's screaming and railing against each other, heads flushed with cheap cocaine and libidos calmed by the thriving prostitution business.
"There's something about sky scrapers that you miss, I guess, in Dublin."
"Life is treating you well, there?"
"I suppose it is."
"You suppose?"
"Yes. I suppose."
We would catch our seperate flights in the morning with a firm handshake.
"Farewell."
"All the best, Eddy."
you should get a job and take me to lima. id like that.
Hmmm... I feel like if you tried to take me on a date, I would promptly veto your plans and whisk you away to egypt where we would skinny dip in the Nile and give bunny ears to the sphinx.
Lofivinyl: R uth I believe you. you are an oddd little piece of work. I find that I like you after all!
Where could you possibly take me, Alex?
Why the fuck should anyone date you if you cant show any commitment?
Jesus, you haven't even had your first date yet and she's already bitching.
LOL!
Date me. You'd be the very first.
Because I love. I, who am not loved in return. I have a love that is far deeper than the empty gasps and convulsions of brutish coupling. Shall I speak of her? Shall I speak of my bride? She has no eyes to flirt or promise. But she still sees all. Sees and understands with a wisdom that is god-like in its scale. I stand at the gates of her intellect and I am blinded by the light within. How stupid I must seem to her. How child-like and uncomprehending. Her soul is clean, untainted by the snares and ambiguities of emotion. She is untouched by joy or sorrow. I worship her though I am not worthy. I cherish the purity of her disdain. She does not respect me. She does not fear me. She does not love me. They think she is hard, and cold, those who do not her. They think she is lifeless and without passion. They do not know her. She has not touched them. She touches me, and I am touched by God, by destiny. The whole of existence courses through her. I worship her. I am her slave. No freedom ever was so sweet.
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Joined: 2008-05-24
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