Sometimes I fall into a vicious cycle where I’m mentally and emotionally frustrated and cannot manage to channel that energy into productive avenues. In the old days, this would lead to drinking or drugs, but I don’t do that anymore. Instead, I try to go about my day, generally fail to complete mundane tasks and end up feeling ‘stuck’ – this progresses into a cycle of mild depression, feelings of inertia, guilt over said inertia, and then on and on it goes until something snaps me out of it.
It feels like I’m seated in a car stuck in neutral yet compelled to rev the engine until it screams.
When did I last curl up in her lap? It’s been so long, I cannot recall. Despite numbered boxcars on the calendar and the disinterested faces of clocks, a concrete memory eludes me. Time, location, and date, they’re merely three dimensions after all.
That number, it could be a trinity – secure, owned, loved.
Instead, it feels abstract.
Feeling a tad nostalgic this evening and found The Cult meandering down memory lane. I’ve always loved this song in equal proportion to all the hedonistic acts that took place while listening to this tune – privately, in night clubs, and two live performances. Unsurpisingly, The best memories were made behind closed doors.
Well, most of them. Because then I found this video and remembered Bike Week, 1995. It was a ‘working vacation’ for yours truly, but that never stopped me from having a good time. Bike Week was always crazy, probably still is, but 95 was the most insane trips to Daytona I ever made.
That rocks.
Thank you! I thought I did pretty good, too, for never having sculpted a vagina before, lol!
You must be a natural born vagina sculptor, Ma’am. Yes. Yes, I think that you are.
Well, it’s good to know that I have something to fall back on in times of financial insecurity. Something tells me that sculpted vaginas will never go out of style, primarily because of (awesome) immature jackasses like myself. By the way, I would TOTALLY buy a sculpted vagina and display that shit on my front lawn. With accent lighting.
Totally.
Well, perhaps a new career in silly-putty-vagina-sculpting awaits!
Awesome!!! 😜
Looks awfully familiar to me! Nice.
I think the maturity level of a 13 year old boy is underrated. I am the queen of giggling at juvenile humor and getting “the look.” I don’t care–the word package always still makes me laugh.
Nice sculpture! 🙂