type

So maybe I’m looking for him again, same personality, same hobbies, same tastes, but just in an Asian body. THAT IS NOT TOO MUCH TO ASK. The problem is, finding someone just like him is only going to be second rate (compared to him) and would hardly help me in the moving on process….

Sometimes, though, I wonder. Do guys not-him like girls who are me? Maybe the only type of guys who have me as their type is… him.

“And God Said”

In the beginning God distilled the universe, essentially as we now know it, from what was there before.

For existence was without restraint or void; and everything everywhere existed all at the same time. And the Spirit of God looked at it and was confused.

And God said, Let there be less: and there was less of it all.

And God saw the diminishment, and saw that it was good: and God divided it further towards nothingness.

And God called the emptiness Space, and the shrinking mass of everything he called Matter. And he forewent sleep to further reduce the unholy mass of Matter, on the first Night.

And God said, Let there be a, and he searched for the right word, a planet or two. And because he was God, the number of existing planets dropped from infinity to somewhere in the hundreds of billions.

And God by that point had had enough of the flying green monkeys with Oakland Raiders baseball caps circa 1983, and their Nerf footballs, and so he did away with them entirely.

And God similarly thought the heliotrope colour of most of the nothing he had created was kind of gauche, so he replaced it with an understated, inky blackness.

And God said, Let the water planet, that one right there under the second-hairiest knuckle on my ring finger, have land as well: and it was so.

And God called the dry land Earth; and, confusingly, he called the planet as a whole the same thing: but God saw that it was good enough, so he went about his work.

And God said, Let the Earth be separated from everything else in the universe by several million miles of empty space: and it was mostly so.

At this point God took a semester off to go clearing up the outer reaches of the universe. He banned alien prostitution and anyone from a Douglas Adams book: and God saw that it was good.

And God was too busy making the Queen from those Sigourney Weaver Alien movies disappear from even the most vestigial memories of anything that ever lived to notice that the evening and the morning were the third day.

And at some point before noon, God said, Those disco balls up in the sky are really tacky. You know what would be better? Little fire pits. And in trying to create fire pits he accidentally doubled the number of existing suns, but he got rid of all the infernal disco balls.

And he saw that half of Earth was very well lit as it orbited around the nearest sun, but the other half was depressing and dangerous for women to walk around late at night. So he collected all the streetlamps in the universe and put them on Earth.

And while God was doing this, he accidentally pooped out the Moon. And God saw that it reflected light from the sun, and helped to further illuminate the dark side of the Earth, and God thought it was sort of romantic. So it stayed.

And God called the sun the Sun, and the moon the Moon and he instructed them to sit,
And to rule over the day and over the night, and to provide muses for poetasters: and God saw that it was good.

And God ordered pizza and stayed in to watch Any Given Sunday, and after falling asleep on his paisley couch, the evening and the morning were the fourth day.

And God said, Let the waters frikkin’ drown all the abominations that are churning it up right now, and that goes for all the creepy flying shit, although he had already gotten rid of the creepy flying monkeys. And it was so.

And God created Great Britain, and Wales, and more or less created the continental arrangement that we have now from the utter chaos and ridiculousness of what was there already.

And God blessed them, saying, Be fruitful, and rainy, and fill the earth of the Earth, and then remembered that he hadn’t selected a chosen species really yet.

And the evening and the morning were the fifth day, while he pondered.

And God said, Let the earth bring forth the best and most kick-ass dudes it has. And those were men, and a few butch lesbians.

And God made friends for the first time, and they all got together to chill and listen to Floyd, and God banished all the other species remotely like mankind in the rest of the universe into nothingness.

And God said, Let us make man mostly look like us, so he won’t get jealous of my chiseled features: and let them have dominion over all remaining creatures on the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth under the rugs.

So God invited man down to this sweet garden party; male and female he invited them.

And when they came, God blessed them, and God said unto them, Be fruitful, and multiply, and tap the shit out of the keg, and don’t forget the weed: and everybody had a great time. It of course helped that God had hand-chosen the soundtrack, though. I mean pretty much everybody loves Bob Marley.

And God said, Behold, I have given you dro, and honey-garlic chicken wings, and Orange Crush mixed with Irish Cream, not to mention Braveheart, and, like, Hot Fuzz, which means you should all be chill and nice to me.

And every bro and dame on the earth was all like, “Yea, yea.” But it didn’t work out. Eventually God’s inherent prickish nature drove a wedge between him and his lookalike cult members. So man continued on in God’s footsteps and abolished God himself, along with several hundred of the worst episodes of Will & Grace, and the notion that getting syphilis was cool just because Bach had it.

And man saw the world minus every thing that he and God had jointly gotten rid of, and, behold, it was very good. And the evening and the morning were the sixth day.

The seventh day was, appropriately, March 14th, so all the guys with lady-friends got steaks and blowjobs, and all the single guys teamed up to chisel Pi and its infinite digits out of Ayer’s Rock in Australia.

On the eighth day, everyone slept in, except Julius Caesar

- Emo-tastic A.

i just can’t handle that shit

Big D’s brother-in-law just left his sister, and Big D’s going through this really hard time with it. It’s tough on me too, because I know that to him, they were almost the epitome of romance. They met in high school or something, and got married at 20, had a couple of cute kids… moved into a great house. I think he’s lost his faith in love, somewhat, since his parents and his sister are now essentially divorced. In a strange way, this makes me breathe a sigh of relief… we would have probably ended up dysfunctional too.

What I can’t handle, however, is the fact that I just can’t fucking get over him. It’s come to a point where I don’t even want to get back together… but.. yeah. He can not e-mail me or call me for an entire month, and I’d be perfectly fine and bam. One short e-mail is enough to begin the cycle again. I can’t help but read them (twice. and then once again.) and write him back because I have this incredible weakness.

I’ve thought about not ever getting over him. Fuck that shit.

EDIT: Turns out, he probably only e-mailed me because he had a hard time going through the whole divorce/separation thing… It gets to me every time when he e-mails me frequently and suddenly stops.