One of my favorites… from Ethopia.
The Geometric Stare
(Unfortunately this is NSFW)
You tell her—your now-ex-girlfriend—the kiss wasn’t good at the end. You explain to her, in depth, the way her lips seemed to provide support less like pillows and more like floor mats at the local gymnastics center when your lips would come into contact with hers and it seemed like you were somehow falling forever so you’d press her into you from behind with your thumbs forming a ladder on her spine, regimented with fingers about-facing supporting the lower and upper parts of her back which you felt were too-well toned to be in your league (and so you said to her) and could feel the vibrations of her lungs as she would breathe in heavy and exhale, perhaps sigh, loudly into your mouth, of which her breath was usually moderately and untimely malodorous—a frequenter of coffee, intravenous or fed through a tube into the mouth—and her teeth occasionally when she actually got into it would click that loud missile-commanding click which felt like an instant trip to an orthodontist, a shot in the mouth followed by your first seizure induced by medicines (unrelated, but somehow triggered as a memory by the click), and hitherto would be relieved by her use of too-much tongue which seemed to engorge your mouth to the point of gagging, making you wonder how in the hell did she have that thing leasing out her mouth indefinitely, as it seemed she more or less could touch your tonsils with the tip of it and this somehow phallic gesture was off-putting enough to be the honest-to-goodness proverbial straw breaking the camel’s back. Sex, of course, followed suit in a sort of awkward, this-is-either-too-much-or-obviously-too-submissive way, where she would either perform an orgasm on top of you, even if she had performed fellatio too long and your orgasm was brought forth a season too early and your legs started to get uncomfortably weak as if she was pulling more out of your scrotum without considering the fact that yes, in fact yes, women can masturbate using a man too, which she claimed you did (masturbate using her) when she would yell—faster harder come on fuck me already go for it goddammit I want it—all the while just lying there with her arms crossed above her head, in a lounge chair dissociating on some long-island beach drinking a mojito or screwdriver with some tan guy licking sand off of her tits, and when you would work and thrust and feel like an animal and uncomfortably carnal she would make you pull out and come on her chest because she said it was good for her skin and she would usually make a really disingenuous face like saying I can’t believe we’re still doing this you come so much I’m stuck wiping this off, to which she would sit on your face until she squirted the sour and salty fluid on your face sometimes in rivets chasing up your nostrils to the point of coughing/choking right into her core, slapping forehead skin against pelvic bone and her thighs would almost pop your head right off when she clenched from where it supposedly sat on your neck as you lay buried in the floor or the foot-end of the bed, hoping for a minute to breathe as she would begin kissing you saying thank you dryly and in a very mechanical way, stroking your spent and shriveled member in between her index finger and thumb where she had a ring on her thumb which would sometimes catch your skin and you’d yell hey and she would say what what’s wrong and you wouldn’t know how to explain that her gesture is well-intentioned but honestly god that fucking hurt too much to just let go just let me yell at her for a second she’s already basically suddenly drowned me again.
How The Face Changes With Shifting A Light Source
this is one of the coolest things on tumblr
See, I’m not unattractive, the lighting’s just wrong everywhere.
I’m not a proponent of looking a pictures of women and gawking or really being sexually aroused by what we might call a “still-life,” but Jesus, this photo just does it for me. Rarely do I catch myself going back to an image unless there is something contemplative or universally full of art about it… so I guess in regards to whoever did this shoot, bravo. There is something about this that seems to transcend the amount of cleavage/breast we see in the photo (because honestly, porn is a click away in these times). The lighting, direction of the tilt of her head, the way her shirt seems literally draped over her… it’s well done. Something about the background too, how something seems desolate about this photo. There is something simultaneously sexy and completely not gratifying about this moment, captured. Hmm…
Well, on to the next thing.
Books in Hands / Libros entre manos (ilustración de Jen Mazza)
Some call it marriage.
Crazy Uncle Casey’s “11 Days, 11 Deals” Sale: Day Seven
Uncle Casey penned two novels during his brief literary career. His debut, All The King’s Oranges, detailed the high times of Florida fruit-grower and drug kingpin Juicy Juciano, and bore much resemblance to the movie Scarface, save for some lengthy digressions about the healing power of citrus. It was self-published and received poorly, though the trade publication Fruit Growers News did list the book in their “Juicy Reads” section. Uncle Casey’s second novel, Their Faces Flew Right Off, is a cult classic of second-person, semi-autobiographical magical realism. You have probably heard of it.
These days, Uncle Casey leaves the writing to “highfalutin, high-school-educated know-it-alls.” But he does enjoy a good author interview. For this reason, Uncle Casey just now decided that, today only, all new and returning Believer magazine subscribers get a copy of Always Apprentices, a collection of 22 conversations between writers, when they enter the promo code “ALWAYS” at checkout. This is in addition to subscribers’ complimentary copy of the exclusive 80-page mini-book, Judy Blume and Lena Dunham in Conversation. SUBSCRIBE TODAY!
Before you go, Uncle Casey insists on sharing one piece of advice for aspiring writers: “Write like your house is on fire, and each new sentence is a shot glass full of water dowsed on the raging flames. In other words, write as fast as you possibly can and use tiny sentences. Five words, max.”