Joel F

Corn Logs

At Christmas Eve dinner my Grandpa Smoke told me I had an admirer. He had showed one of his granddaughters pictures of me and said she wanted to meet me. My biological grandfather died before I was born and my grandma married Smoke years later. His granddaughter told him it was hard to find nice guys and that she might want to hang out with me. I did my best to ignore the conversation this sparked between my family members and focused on my delicious bottle of Red Stripe. My sister said "you can't go out if you have the same grandpa." Maybe I should get a girlfriend so my grandparents won't try to hook me up with people in my family tree. They probably deserve to see me at least pretend there is a woman in my life who makes me happy.

I'm finally posting the story I worked on the last month of this semester. It's called Masturbate . The second half was written in about a day and is still in a very early phase so it sucks ass compared to the rest of it, but this is the version I turned in as the final piece for my fiction class. I don't really want to post this on here, because it will almost certainly make anyone who reads it think less of me, but I feel I have to as part of my whole unfiltered honesty blogstyle. It's a story of sexual adventure and fifty percent of it is based off of my own life. I basically played mad libs with the names of the characters - which means I haven't figured out how to link a character with a name in a significant creative way.

A lot of reading is done this time of year as people are stuck at home with their families. Friends are either on vacation or similarly imprisoned indoors. Reading this could help you kill a good twenty minutes while you are serving time.

Check out the gift my dad bought himself:

RHCP are going to beat out JT at the Grammy’s for album of the year. You pretty much gotta do the double disc thing these days.

Protect my Wandy

This morning I had another dream where I trip over my legs, land hard on my mouth, and chip my two front teeth. Fucking up my teeth is perhaps my greatest fear. When I shatter my chompers in the dream I tell myself I'm actually sleeping and still have the same orthodonticly arranged smile. The misery of disfiguration, the snaggly result of my face's transformation, overwhelms my ability to know better and throws me into an identity crisis.

I have horrible memories of teeth being cracked on the blacktop of Swanson Elementary School. My friend and I were making fun of hop-scotch by jumping through the squares like wild idiots. He got a little out of control and fell on his face after he landed in the last square. He screamed like a wet girl and laid face down on the asphalt with both hands over his mouth. I thought he was trying to be hilarious. I walked over to him and spotted a sizable shard of one of his canines lying on the ground. I picked up the plaquey slime pebble and dropped it in one of his hands.

On another day, Mike Yesterday had just become a fifth grade brace face. He got caught up in an intense game of kickball and got beamed in the side of his mouth. One of his brackets busted through the skin just above his lip. It was goddamn freaky. Like a hooked human.

So, yea, messing with teeth freaks me out. You would think my mouth had once lived like a caged animal or something, aka braces.

I'm driving home on Tuesday and Wednesday. Now I must attend to another round of brandy shits. When they drop in the water it fizzes like opening a two liter bottle of Coke.

From Chaos

Finals week has hit hard. As a result I have been struggling for survival now that the mighty current of WT posts has subsided. This site, a few different email accounts, and Facebook are my primary life sources. I call upon them, read, refresh, comment, refresh, and linger for new material. Nothing makes a robot sadder than completing a refresh command only to find an absence of updates.

It is the time of year where everyone is scattering to prepare for finals while I'm busy stumbling into stoner sessions and stranding myself in my own madness. Madness, for me, is like studying. It's my time to absorb and analyze, so when the time comes, I can write life.

This semester's life subject was going to be Facebook, but now has come together as a first person fiction story - a fifty percent factual account of my personal history of porn usage, as well as an examination of the emerging field of cyberdildonics. The final draft isn't going to be as raunchy of most of the stuff I've been writing this semester, it will be more heart breaking. Chris Kaiser and Eric Kazaki both make appearances.