People Magazine

Oooohhhh Nico, look at that mess

What's her name?

The girl from the movie
About the pottery circle

What was it called?

Right, 'The Pottery Circle'

She was so sweet in that movie
Now she's a whore

Look at her!

Kissing that other girl

She's not gay, Nico
C'mon, don't you know one
When you see one?

She's just looking for attention
She's an attention 'whore'

I should show this to Aaron's friend George

He loves Tina Max

Marks, whatever

The whore

No, Nico, I don't think she liked it

You can tell
She doesn't like it

She might as well be kissing a bookcase
She's not into it at all

I know what it looks like
When you...like it

. . . . .

Okay, fine

FINE

College

Of course

Where else?

College...and high school

...And the night of graduation...from college...

So, post-college, I guess
Twice

And a couple of weeks ago
At the bachelorette party

It's just something...I feel like doing
Every once in awhile

It doesn't make me...you know

I'm still straight
I still like guys

Of course, Aaron doesn't know
He would--

God, I know what he'd do

He's not like George
He's not--into that sort of thing

One time I joked around
And offered him a threeway

It was a joke!

I wasn't--

Anyway, he got all turned off

Then he looked okay for a second
And he said--

'Wait, you and me and another guy?'

And I realized why he was worried
And I said--

'No, you and me and a girl'

And then he got all worried again
And said no

It was really strange

Well, not strange
He's just...conservative

I wonder if my gay friends will ever forgive me
For marrying a Republican

What about you, Nico?
Will you forgive me?

That's because you're sweet

We're going to have to find you a nice boy
One of these days

You know, I've always wondered
About Aaron's friend Martin

I'm very perceptive about that kind of thing

And he had no father figure in his life
That's bound to do something to you, isn't it?

Hmm?

Oh, we're back to that again, huh?

All right, all right
What do you want to know?

Yes, they were all pretty

Just because I'm straight
Doesn't mean I'm not picky

They were all...friends
People I trusted

And I love them
And when you love people
Sometimes you just feel like...

Expressing that love
In different ways

Sometimes you want to hug them
Sometimes you want to kiss them
Sometimes...

Hahaha!

Listen, am I going to be able to replicate this
The day of the wedding?

Since you're going to be in Cancun and all?

Missing my wedding!

What kind of a stylist are you?

What if I have a bang emergency?

Look at that photo

She even made sure the light hit her just right
When she was kissing her

That's not a real kiss

A real kiss is about playfulness
And sensuality
And tenderness
And temptation

To, you know, do more

Than just...kiss

It's not just about getting in People magazine

It's about getting yourself
As close to someone as you can

Not sex

With sex, you go too far

With sex, you become something else

You have sex
And you become straight
Or gay or a man
Or a woman
Or a pervert
Or a prude
Or pregnant

And then you're really screwed

But a kiss just makes you somebody
Who wants to connect

And I like that

I like to kiss

And tomorrow, I'm going to kiss my husband
And nobody else
For the rest of my life

Kind of sad, isn't it?

I know, Nico
I know

And that's why
No matter what else happens

I better have
Perfect
Hair

So let's get back to work

What a trashy photo

I'll tell you one thing, though

That other girl

She looks good

Pretty good

But hey

What do I know?

Aaron's Bachelor Party

George thinks the girl in the gold
Looks like Christina Marks

He asks me if I saw the photo of her
Kissing that girl she kidnapped

'Hot, right?' he says, arching his eyebrows

When he does that
When he arches his eyebrows
He reminds me of my ex-girlfriend Melanie

The girl I dated before Teri

'Hot, right?'

'Yeah,' I say, 'Real hot.'

Two girls kissing, hot

I wonder what he'd say to seeing
Two boys kiss

Probably not so hot

'Not hot, right?' he'd question me, eyebrows planted firmly in place

'No, George,' I'd say, 'Not hot at all.'

The girl with the blueberry pasties
Gives Viktor a blowjob
In a room in the back

'I didn't think they did that,' George says
And I say, 'They do if you're Viktor.'

'Huh,' he says

'If you're--'

I stop myself before I say 'hot as fuck'

They blow you if you're hot as fuck
Why wouldn't they?

And Viktor is hot as fuck

That is the technical term for him

Hot--as--fuck

'They do if you pay them,' I say instead

George's eyebrows go down

'Fuckin' whores,' he says

He's mad because he knows he didn't bring enough money
To get anybody to blow him

Even if I wouldn't blow him
And normally when I'm drunk
I'll blow up a popped balloon
Just to get my mouth on something

Oh, I'm sorry

Am I grossing you out?

Sorry

I'm getting married

That's a pleasant topic of conversation, isn't it?

Would you say getting married
Makes you a straight person?

On paper it does, absolutely
But what about beyond that?

What about reality?

I have had sex with men
And yet, I am a straight man

You say this can't be true
I say that the girl with the blueberry pasties
AND the girl in the gold
Would both say I'm straight
AND give me a blowjob
AND I wouldn't have to pay for it

Do you believe me?

Yup

You do

Nobody's ever called me gay
Not even in a joking way

To be honest
I kind of wish somebody would

I have this fantasy of my wedding
Where when they ask if anyone objects
My entire side of the church stands up
And shouts--

'He's GAY!'

But that won't happen

At best, maybe I'll have some ex-fling in the back
Hoping against hope I'll come to terms with my identity
Before making the plunge with Teri

But I've already come to terms with it

I'm straight

I'm straight because you are
What people want you to be
And people want me to be straight

Don't call me cynical
It's the truth

Then again, nothing's more cynical
Than the truth

Just ask my buddy, Martin

He's throwing up in the bathroom
Because some stripper whispered to him
That she'd like to have him cum in her ear

She underestimated what a sexually forthright woman
Can do to a sheltered Catholic boy
Even one married to an artist

Martin's wife is incredibly sexy
If I were straight-straight
I probably would have tried to steal her from him
And then I wouldn't have Martin anymore
And that would be sad
Because I really like Martin

So maybe there's a reason I'm not straight-straight
Just straight

You'd probably ask if I'm upset
That I can't be with someone I truly love

To which, I would ask you
How many of you are with people
You truly love?

Most married people spend their whole lives yearning to have sex with other people anyway, don't they?

It just so happens that the people I'm yearning for
Will be a different gender than my wife

You say you only ever want your wife or your husband
Never anyone else?

You're lying or you're boring

I'll let you pick

If I were to go through all my friends
And play fuck, chuck or marry

I'd probably fuck Viktor
Chuck George
And marry Martin

Or maybe I'd chuck my friend Chuck
Just for the humor

I am really, really, really drunk

. . . . .

At the end of my dream
The dream where everyone I know
Ruins my wedding

I run out of the church
And onto this city street
Where its raining

And the rain's coming down so hard
I close my eyes
And when I open them
I'm dry

I'm on dry land

And...

There's this guy
This perfect guy
Just standing there

And he looks at me
And says 'you're here'
And I say 'I'm here'
And he says 'Yeah'
And I say 'Yeah'
And...

And I know

I know what it is
What...

I am

I am, you know?

I'm just...

. . . . .

But when I wake up
I can't remember his face

I try, but...I can't

And then I go back

I go back to being
Double straight

...with a twist

. . . . .

Look at the girl with the gold

Do you see what she's doing?

She's putting on a show

That's not her up there

And every man in here
Can say that she really likes them
And that she told them her real name
And that she kissed them on the mouth

But...

It's a show

All anybody gets
Is the show

And that's how she stays up there
Nice and safe

And everybody else
Stays exactly
Where they are

Seven Gay Men

Look at that
Kissing a girl
I always knew she was a lesbian
I always had a feeling

Every time I get near a lesbian
My eyebrows arch--against my will

I can't help it

Gay men, that's a different story

What movie was she in?

Was it the one with the giant talking crocodile?

I loved that movie
I saw it six times

I don't know what it is about me
But I love movies with talking animals

All famous people are bisexual
I truly believe that

When you become famous
Your sexuality becomes pliant
Like a piece of chewing gum

So many people loving you
You just start taking it all in
From everybody that's giving it to you

. . . . .

I--you know what, never mind

I wish my eyebrows would tell me
When I'm about to sleep with a gay man

I've slept with seven gay men

SEVEN

Liza Minnelli has slept with less gay men
Than I have

I just can't pick them out

Not all of them KNEW they were gay of course

Most of them figured it out
Halfway through

I would see this look come across their face

That look you get
When you try sour cream for the first time
And decide you don't like it

The last time I saw that look
I stopped the guy
Got up, went into the kitchen
And started making popcorn

We spent the rest of the night
Watching 'Kinky Boots'

Sadly, that was one of my better dates

I think I'm starting to hate gay people

Not because they're gay
But because I'm stupid

I was out on a date the other night with this guy
And I kept looking at him
And looking at him
And looking at him
And looking
And wondering

Could he be...?

This is my life

. . . . .

I liked one...

I really liked one.

Aaron

He was...really nice

And I was sure
I was really sure
That I was okay that time

I was sure that I had it right

We got along so well
And he was so incredibly sexy
And we had such great chemistry
And the first time we...

I saw the look

And I, God, this is embarrassing
But--

I cried

Normally they cry
This time, I cried

And he didn't want to admit it
He said that he was fine
That it was fine
That it was just--he was tired
It wasn't what I thought
Everything was great

And did I--

Oh, here's the kicker

Did I want to get married?

He asked me to marry him

. . . . .

...And I considered it

Because...

Because I really wanted to believe
That maybe in his heart
He was a movie star

Maybe he could be made
Pliant

But...

No

I said 'No'

And now I hear he's about to marry someone else

Some other girl
Who doesn't notice the look

Or maybe he arranges it
So that she doesn't see the look
I've had guys try that on me

That's why I have mirrors everywhere in my bedroom
There's nowhere to hide

Part of me is tempted to go to that wedding
Sit in the back
Watch Aaron walk down the aisle
Hear him say his vows
See him lift the veil

And see that look

Maybe then I'd feel better
On insisting I keep my eyes open

Maybe then I'd feel like
I'm the winner
Because I'm the one
Living the honest life

Maybe then I'd feel like
The good person
I'm supposed to be

Mr. Marks and His Daughter

First of all, let me just say
That my daughter
Is not a lesbian

She kissed a girl

Does kissing girls make you a lesbian?

Because if so
Then I am a lesbian

My daughter has committed no crime
Other than the fact
That she's a famous movie star
And after snorting a rather large amount of cocaine
And stealing a car
She got caught smooching another girl

Now, I ask you

Could anything be more innocent than that?

Has the Christian right really inserted itself
So deeply into the fabric of our country
That a girl high on coke can't kiss another girl
Who may or may not have been quote unquote kidnapped by the first girl
Without a media circus surrounding it?

Look, I'll be the first to admit
That I wasn't exactly a model father
To my daughter

But if there's one thing I taught her
It's that she can kiss whomever she wants
Without having to worry about
Categorizing herself as one thing or another

I don't believe in labeling people
As straight or gay or bi or trans
Or tranny or dyke or lesbo
Or ticker or potato sack
Or any of those labels

And 'lesbian' is a big, fat label
That does not in any way, shape, or form
Describe like my man-loving daughter

She loves everyone
Because she is a tolerant, kind person
Who has sex with men, I assume
I mean, if she could have sex
I mean, she can--as soon as the Disney contract runs out

Hahaha--a little joke there, just a little joke

What I mean is--she's not having sex
With anyone
Especially not women
And not men, but maybe men one day
But probably not women
But if she does I won't mind
Because I love her
And her new movie comes out this fall
And we might be looking at an Oscar here

So...

Any questions?

Play Ladies Night

I have some advice
If you ladies
Would like to hear it

Play Ladies Night

Wait, hear me out

When you hear some stupid girl
Say something like--

'I don't get along with girls. I have mostly guy friends.'

Realize that when she says that
Every guy around her sees
A giant bunny
And it's hunting season

Do NOT foresake your fellow women

If your best friend screws your boyfriend
Get three new best friends

And play 'Ladies Night'

Don't let anyone tell you that you can't wear pants
I love a woman in pants
A woman in pants knows where she's going
And she knows if she's gotta step through a thorn patch to get there
Then that's what she's going to do

And the only reason some guy is calling her a bitch
Is because that dumbass wore shorts
And got his thighs cut up

Laugh at the dumbass--then play 'Ladies Night'

Be the woman you want your daughter to be
Or your niece to be
Or your granddaughter to be
Or the girl in the cubicle next to you to be

Be not afraid to smile, my girls

A good woman can be soft, hard, rough, tough, and terrified
Even as she's going over the edge

And the last thing she's worried about
Is what some twenty-six year old kid
Might write about her
Giving her advice
On how to be a woman

Eh, don't listen to me

Just go play 'Ladies Night'

Play 'Ladies Night'

And remember that there is nothing as beautiful on this earth
As a good woman dancing
Like she ain't waiting for anybody else
To tell her

She can start celebrating

Art Boy

I want an art boy
With nasty old clothes
Shaggy supreme
Like he could find me a ghost

I want his hands paint-splattered
Broken colored pencils on his floor
I bet he just fucked his model
Before he walked me through the door

I feel intimidated
By the things that he says
He doesn't use big words
But he uses big theories
And I'm weary of his hands
When they reach across to me

Peel back my arithmetic
And see my writing
Judge how deep

It's not ideal for him to feel like he does
When we fuck
Cause I can make him happy
And it makes his paintings suck

I like to play with his shaggy supreme
And dream that he can paint me
Paint my body
Paint my dick
Paint my top hat
Paint my tricks

I can't tell the paint from the skin
From the tattoos from the trash
He rubs up on me all day
Like a kitten wants to play with me
And interrupt my theories

He's my art boy
He gives me art
I give him other stuff

Fair trade, I think

As long as he tells me
What he's thinking
What he thinks

Fearless

My first time in the city
I was eight years old
And my aunt took me to see a show

I had a lovely time
Just lovely

Then when I was thirteen
My mother got a phone call one day
While we were eating dinner

We never got calls during dinner

My aunt had been stabbed by a man
During a robbery
He wanted her purse
And she wouldn't give it to him
And he stabbed her
And they never caught him

And this all happened
On her way home from work
In the city

And my aunt died that day in the hospital
And my mother was very upset about that
And from then on
I never went into the city

I had such fear after that
I think we all did
Especially my mother

And it seemed, at times
Like the only relief she got
Was making me more scared
Than she was

When I finished high school
I got accepted into a wonderful college for girls
But it was in the city
And so I couldn't go

That was how it was

My mother forbid it
And my father read his newspaper
And I tore up the acceptance letter
And I never went to college at all

I married a nice man
Who made me feel safe
And I had a child
And I was happy
But still afraid

Then one day my husband walked out
Just like that

At the time we were living in a city
A smaller city
A manageable one
But only because my husband insisted

I was terrified
Even more so when he left
And all he left me for
Was another city

The man never met a pipe
He couldn't dream about

There I was--

Alone, with a fifteen-year-old kid
Living in a city
Where I didn't know anybody

So what did I do?

I waited until my son, Martin, was out of school
And then I got myself a nice little apartment
Outside the city

That way, if he needed me
I could be there
But I was--

Away from it all, I guess

Part of me felt bad for leaving my son there
But a bigger part of me was still my mother's fear

So I stayed in my little apartment
And I stayed there for a long, long time

Then today my son calls me
And says he's thinking of leaving

Not his wife, just his life
Just as bad, in my opinion

And he wanted me to come into the city
Where today they're filming this movie
And there's all this traffic
And these movie stars everywhere
And noise, so much noise
And...

And it's the day my aunt died

I'm almost twice as old
As she was when she died
And I'm still scared

I'm still scared

But you know, I have a photo
Of her and me

The day we went to see that show

She's holding my hand
And she's looking down at me
With so much love
You would think
I was her own daughter

And I remember how confident she was
She stopped a stranger on the street
And asked him to take our picture
Her and her favorite niece
Because this was a big day
This was her day with me in the city

She was fearless, she really was

And I remember every time we'd cross the street
She'd say to me--

'Nancy, you have to walk across this street like it's named after you.'

She said--

'If you want to be like your mother, then wait for the cars to go by, but if you want to be like your crazy aunt, then you walk across that street and you make those cars wait for you.'

I looked at that photo
After I got off the phone
With my son today

For the first time since the day
That dinner got interrupted

I had something else in me
That wasn't my mother's fear

It was my aunt's fearlessness
Telling me--

Go ahead, honey
Cross the street
Make those cars wait for you

And I walked down to that bus station
And I got on the first bus to the city
And I thought--

I'm going to the city

And it felt good

A Church in the City

I thought if I brought him to the church
He would get it

He would step inside the house of God
And realize that he was committing a sin
By not agreeing to kill his mother

The woman that is stopping us
From achieving true happiness

And the opposite of happiness is evil
And so his mother is evil

It's math

Every day I would walk by this church
On my way to work
For Mr. Morris
Whose wife left him today

Well, she didn't really leave him
She called and said she was leaving him
But knowing her, she'll keep the house
So I guess it was more like
She's telling him to leave

After years and years together

Such a shame

I had to write a memo to everybody in the office
Telling them not to talk about it
Because that would be insensitive

You wouldn't believe some of the gossips
I work with

Unbelievable, I'm telling you

As I was typing up the memo
Regarding my boss' shrapnel-infested marriage
I realize what the problem is nowadays

People have no fear
No fear anymore
None at all

That's why I love that downtown church

You walk by that church
And the first thing you feel
Is fear

None of this hokey-pokey happy time religion
I'm talking medieval jazz here
I'm talking sheer TERROR
That if you didn't marry the woman you love
Because your mother doesn't like her
God would strike you down
With boils and bleeding eyes

That's the kinda religion we need nowadays

And that church inspires fear

So I thought if I brought Bobby to the church
He would finally feel like what we have
Is important

That it's worth making something

Because right now
It's nothin'
It's nothin' at all

You know, my sister
She's got a good man
And you know what she does to him?
She screws around on him

And she gets to be married
And I don't
Tell me that's fair

It's not fair

I should take her to that church too

I should take her
I should take Bobby
And I should take Bobby's mother
And I should sit them all down
Right in the front row
Right in front of scary Jesus

And say--'There! Do you feel that? That pulse-quickening anxiety coursing through your veins? THAT'S GOD!'

. . . . .

You know, you live in a city
And you forget about people

You forget about the people
That live there
Right next to you
Walking right by
Every day

The secretary who answers your phone calls
The sister who listens to you brag about your men
The sickened girlfriend, tired of getting invitations in the mail
To another woman's wedding

You think, well, it's a big city
There's lots of people in it

Why commit, you know?

Why commit to a friendship, or a lover
Or a good woman
Or a religion
Or a restaurant
Or an apartment
Or even the city itself

Hell, move to another city
What difference does it make, right?

There's something better, isn't there?
Always something better...

Back when they had churches like that
People didn't have time
To wait around for better

They didn't pass up something good
Because they knew
There might not always be time
For something great

I'm not a great woman
I'll admit that

I'm a city girl, you know?

I'm tough and I bitch
And I fight for what I want
And I'm impatient
And I'm no great beauty, like my sister

But I can love a man
Like nobody's ever loved him

And I can believe in him
Like the people that used to go into those churches
Used to believe in something

Maybe I could even make his mother believe
That a man can be a husband and a son
At the same damn time

So I wish I'd brought him to the church
I wish I'd dragged him up the steps
And I wish the two of us
Had sat down together
And prayed

Because when I found out
He'd been with my sister...

. . . . .

I figured the only place
I could forgive him

Was inside that church

Another Allegedly Better City

When I was fifteen
My dad left my family
For another allegedly better city

That better city
Was not a city
I was allowed to visit
Or even know about

I was simply told
That Daddy had moved
To a better city

And I remember thinking
Caustically, yes, because I was fifteen

I remember inserting the words--

'Allegedly Better'

Between the words 'Another' and 'City'

After all, it would have to seem better, wouldn't it?
Or else why move there?

Unless having me and my mother in the same city
Was what made our city unpalatable

Knowing my father, he would choose another city
That would seem better but wouldn't be
And his problems would continue to stick to him
Like summer sweat

But really it would be just another city
Another allegedly better city

I met my wife Jessica when I was nineteen
She runs a theater downtown
And she tells me that she's often losing artists
To other cities

Other allegedly better cities

I was never tempted to move
But then again, I'm a cancer
I don't like change

And I have a sort of, um, resentment
Towards other cities

Because I don't actually know
Which of them was the one
My father ended up moving to

So I defiantly stay put
And insist that I like my falafels a certain way
And I like my coffee a certain way
And I like my air pollution a certain way
And I stay, stay, stay

But lately, I've been feeling...tempted

I google photos of other cities
Los Angeles, New York, London
Last night I was up at 3am
While my wife was working on a speech
Shadily staring at photos of Philadelphia
Like it was internet porn

Suddenly my falafels don't taste as good as they used to
And my coffee seems like it has too much sugar in it
And I think to myself, You know, I'd like a little more air pollution
And I want to go, I want to go, I want to go

I wonder if my father wound up in Paris
Or in Tokyo
Or in some city in Chile
Where he romanced a woman
And began a Chilean life
That would make my hipster existence
Seem beyond pitiful

My wife would never leave here
She travels enough where she has no urge to leave
Whereas I'm afraid that if I ever left
At this point
I'd never come back

Don't misunderstand me
I'm not looking for a divorce
I'm not looking for an escape
The way my father did
I'm just looking for--

A next

I'd like a 'next'

My life is starting to seem like a book
That's gone on for a few chapters more than it should

I think of people sixty or seventy years ago
Who fought wars and went to Europe
And invented the martini

Those people had levels in their lives
Levels that I don't have

And now when you want to add a level to your life
What do you do?

You move

You move to another city
Another allegedly better city

And suddenly you're really doing something with your life
Suddenly you're progressing
You're traveling forward
Simply by traveling

I don't understand it
But lately, it does seem...alluring

. . . . .

When I was a fifteen
I had an image of where my father went

A city full of skyscrapers
And movie theaters
With the big signs out front

All-night diners
And coffee shops
And poetry cafes
And apartment buildings scattered
Up and down, everywhere

Constant noise and activity
Excitement, music, street festivals
Mom and Pop shops
Mixed with Starbucks
And chain CD stores

It was this perfect CD
And my father was there
Living the perfect life
Probably with another family, another kid
Another allegedly better kid

Who didn't stay out all night downtown
At his friend's band's show
Or at the Donut Hut
Or sitting on a sidewalk
Trying to get his future wife
To kiss him before the street sweepers
Turned the corner

That other city
Would have had to have been pretty great, right?

For him to leave me

Either that
Or I was just really lousy to be around

Maybe

All I know is that as I get older
I'd really like to see it
I'd like to see that other city

And see if it's really all it's cracked up to be

From the Top

If you look east
You can see the park
Where I proposed to Vivian

We sat on the grass
No blanket
I forgot to bring a blanket
So we sat on the grass

My hands were so shaking so badly
That when I popped open the box
The ring flew out and hit her just below the eye

'What the hell are you doing,' she asked me
'I'm proposing!'
'What,' she said, 'You wanna marry a blind girl?'

That's when I knew
We'd be married forever

I knew everything then

Last night, when she kicked me out
I wandered all over the city

You know, every day
I drive in
I go to my office
On the fourteenth floor of this building
I run my company with an iron fist
Then I get on a train at seven o'clock
And go home
Where I fall onto a couch
And pass out
Until dinner
Then I eat
Go upstairs
And pass out again
Until my alarm goes off
At five the next day

That's been my life
For all these years

And I thought it was fine
I really did

Because that life afforded me
And my wife and our children
A nice house
And nice clothes
And good food
And tuition
And tennis lessons
And all sorts of things

And nobody complained
Not when they were getting
All they were getting

Then last night I call
To tell Vivian
I'm going to be home late
And she tells me don't come home at all

She changed the locks
And she wants a divorce

So...

. . . . .

You know, every night
I'd ride the train
Out of this city

And on my way to the station
I'd look out
And see the theaters
And think--
I should take Viv to the theater
One of these days

And I'd see that gallery
With the old guy on the bench in front of it
And I'd think--
Maybe Viv would like that

I saw all these things
I knew she'd like
But by the time I got home
I'd be so beat
The last thing I'd want to do
Was go back into the city

I had my whole life
Nice and compartmentalized
Work--city, everything else--life

Maybe at some point
The work became my life
And the rest of the time
Became sleep

Maybe I stopped living
And didn't even realize it
Until my wife said
She was sick of being married
To a corpse

So I took a taxi around the city

I stopped by the theater and saw half a show
I went by the gallery, saw a photo of a naked woman
And promptly walked out

I got a bite to eat at this diner
Where the waitress kept giggling at me

I asked her what was so funny
And she said 'It's almost midnight. That's pretty funny.'

What did I expect?

City people are crazy

Anybody looking at me right now
Would think I was about to kill myself

A guy on the roof of his office building
Who just that day received troublesome personal news

They'd have the negotiator talking to me
Right about now

If anybody in this city
Ever thought to look up

Don't worry
I have no plans on killing myself

I'll try to get Vivian to reconsider the divorce
And if I guarantee that I'll spend less hours at the office
And take her to Aruba next week
She'll probably back down

And if she doesn't
I'll get a little bachelor pad here in the city
And spend all my time
Getting served runny eggs
By giggling waitresses

I only came up here
So I could get a better look
At the other woman

The city

She's beautiful all right
But she's nothing compared to my Viv

A lot of lights and sounds
But nothing that can warm you up
Or pat you on the shoulder
And let you know your dinner's ready

If you look west
You can see the hospital
Where our daughter Eve was born

If you look north
You can see where we had our first place
In a dingy little three-story walk-up
Right above the woman
Who cooked nothing but cabbage
Seven days a week

And if you look south
You can see the train tracks
That should have taken me home
A few hours ago

Now the sun's about to come up

I can hear the storefronts opening
I can hear a few car horns
I can hear birds confused
By the city lights
Going to bed
Way too early

Pretty soon I'll have to start a new day

From now on
There will be nothing constant
But interruption

. . . . .

I let her down
I let my girl down

That's the hard part, you know
Knowing I let her down

Pennies from a Blind Man

I think I'm giving you gold
I think I'm pouring diamonds in your hands
I think I understanding what you want from me
And yet I don't see anything

It's guessing
I'm just guessing

I think I'm enjoying the mornings
When really it's past your bedtime
And I'm hearing the rhyming
When the words don't stick

I'm picking my battles
But I'm losing the war
And all I'm good for is a joke or two
Before you let me know
What's really going on

I think I'm playing the right music
I think I'm lighting the right candles
But I don't have a handle on this at all
I'm falling in all the holes
Going nowhere


I didn't realize someone put me on a treadmill
Until I nearly finished my imaginary marathon

I'm on all kinds of drugs
And I think I'm eating candy
I'm not as handy as I'd like to believe
And I'm relieved to find out
That what I'm about
Is an illusion
And the confusion you're feeling
Is you not seeing
That I'm not seeing
Anything

I thought I was giving you gold
And all you got were pennies
From a lovestruck blind man
Who thought he was doing enough

I'm sorry I didn't have the stuff
I didn't know

I really didn't know

Harlen's One Month Anniversary

Sooooooooo does everyone know
What today is?

That's right

It's my one month anniversary
With my AH--mazing boyfriend Raj

I can't believe it's already been this long

It feels like just days ago
That we met and started dating
At Nikita Powell's Elton John party

There I was dressed up like Captain Fantastic
And there he was done up like Donald Duck
And we looked across the room at each other
And magic was born

Nikita likes to say the magic was born on her bed
And we owe her for the dry-cleaning
But that's just her way of being bitter and supportive
All at the same time

Raj has definitely changed my life

For one thing, before I was sad, lonely, and single
I used to sit home by myself and watch television
Alone--every night

Now I watch television with Raj

Isn't it amazing that the only difference
Between a pitiful existence
And a fulfilling one
Is having someone next to you on the couch
While you're doing exactly what you would normally do alone?

I guess the same could be said for sex

Hahaha--but seriously, he's amazing in bed.

AH--mazing.

Normally I would feel uncomfortable talking about sex
But when I'm talking about me having sex
It feels totally natural
Because I can sense how jealous everyone is of me

Occasionally I get jealousy and apathy mixed up
But it doesn't happen too often

Now, I'm not saying we have the perfect relationship

No relationship is perfect

This month has been an unending series of ups and downs

Between our first fight, to our first make-up sex
To allegations of him cheating
To confirmation of him cheating
To my journey of forgiveness
To him discovering he's a sex addict
To his rehabilitation
To my rediscovery of my inner lion
To our reconnection in the abandoned parking lot near my house
Where we made love by the fire
Coming from this homeless guy's trash can

It was the best month of my life
Second only to that month
I did 'Jesus Christ Superstar'
With the Bixby Players

Okay, gotta go

Raj is taking me to a movie
To celebrate the big 1...Point 0-0

Man, time flies
When you're in love

When a Bad Man's Good in Bed

When he gets nasty
It's already too late
Because you know what you know
And you know that you're hooked

You should have looked under the rug
Before he started to bug you
With his special skills

You don't have any will left
You left it at the restaurant
When he was done paying the bill

He's just a bad man
And you're a good girl
But you're just the type to get screwed
When you meet a guy like him

This is what happens
When a bad man's good in bed

He'll lose your number
Until next Tuesday at 3am
When he's leaving some other girl's house
Who wouldn't give into him

You'll tell yourself you want this
You'll say it's okay
If only you could have morning clarity
In the middle of the night

It's not right
But it is what it is
And what it is is
A bad man being good
At the one thing he knows
You'll respond to

It's not that you're stupid
It's not that you're weak
It's just that he makes you forget
All the nasty memories

You're just a good girl
Poor little good girl
This is what happens
When a bad man's good in bed

And one day you'll meet him
That guy that's much better
Who calls you beautiful
And holds the door

And after each date with him
You'll head home
Knowing he don't know
What he needs to know
And up you go to your place
To call up your old friend

You know it's wrong
You know you shouldn't
But what he does, he does well
And that's all you can tell

He's a bad man
But he knows what to do
And as for you
Maybe you're not as good
As you thought

Natalie's Confession

Forgive me, Father
I am going to sin
On March 30th, 2020

At that point
I will be twenty-five
Married
And having an affair

Allow me to explain

And I hope you have a cushion back there
Because this is a bit of a long story

You see, I'm in love with Rafael Naratatan
Pronounced NAH--like, nah dawg, I'm cool
RAT--like Tobey Porter is a rat for telling the school I'm on vicodin
ATAN--like if I don't get 'a tan' soon, I'm going to be translucent

Anyway, I'm in love with him
But he's a foreigner
Full of Spanish lust
And my parents would NEVER agree to me marrying him

That means I'd have to marry someone more conventional
Like the handsome, but dull, Winston Travers

Winston and I will probably be married
Halfway through college
That way I'll get to leave college
Before having to take
Any of the difficult courses

We'll start a family
And before long
I'll feel the yearning a woman feels
At the ripe old age of twenty-three
Right before her reproductive organs dry up

The yearning to reignite her inner desires

And so, I'll contact Rafael
Who, at that point, will be living in a flat
Downtown, in a really awful neighborhood

I'll ask him for lunch
Just to catch up on old times

But when I show up at his apartment
He'll open the door wearing nothing but cargo pants
Splattered with dark red paint

His hair will be tussled
The kind of tussled that you normally have to use
Extra conditioner to achieve

His rippling muscles
Will roll across his body
Like waves on the ocean

And I'll find myself thrown into his arms
Feverishly attacking him
With my feeble old twenty-three year old arms

And I'll feel like a girl again
And not a woman in her early twenties
Nearing the end of her youth

But I'll also be committing a sin, Father

I'll be having relations
With a man who is not my husband
And there's nothing I can do about that

After all, Winston is already losing his hair
And we haven't even reached junior year yet

I can already tell where his paunch will develop
And the other day, when I ate lunch with him
He spent the entire time talking about his idea
For an amusement park called Ferret Farm

I have no doubt it would be a huge success
But do I really want to spend the rest of my life
Laying in bed next to a bald guy
Who smells like wood shavings?

I think we both know the answer to that one, Father

So I'm here to confess
To my future adultery

I don't see why I should bother waiting
When I know exactly when I'll be breaking my marriage vows

I haven't sinned at all aside from that
But if you'd like
I'd be happy to tell you other people's sins

If Melody Kendall tells you that the worst thing she's done
Since her last confession is talk back to her mother
Than believe me, Father
She's leaving out half the laundry list

Oh, it's hard knowing that in ten short years
I'll be a fallen women

I guess until then I'll just have to learn to love
My purity

I suppose Jesus suffered the same way

Am I right, Father?

Mmm...the reverent sound of silence

That must mean 'Yes'

How Much Sex Weighs

I look at him
And I weigh my options

Today is not a good day
Today is a heavy day
Today I am heavy

Yesterday I was not
Yesterday, despite the scale's protestations
I was seventy-four pounds lighter
And I--was--hot

My boobs looked fantastic
My waist was slim
My laugh was light and airy
Like a Disney princess

I could have had any man I wanted
Yesterday

Which is why yesterday
I couldn't find anyone to go out with me
But, to be fair, it was a Monday
But still, I was light and airy
And I stayed at home
And then tonight
My phone wouldn't stop ringing
With invitations
And so I went out

But today is a heavy day

Today I am heavy

I will not be having sex today

Today I do not feel girly
I feel aggressive

Every word I say
Comes out sounding
Like a cheap pick-up
Probably because it is

Probably because though I do not want to be seen
In any state of undress at the moment
I also want to be told
That I'm being stupid

That I look wonderful
That I'm sexy
That someone wants to fuck me

Pardon the frank language
But let's face it
If I were a size two
And blonde

Me cursing would be a total turn-on

Something about an overweight girl cursing, however
Just makes me come across like a bar wench
Or a saloon owner
Or Mama Cass

Doesn't it?

I'm not allowed to be sexy today

After all, sex has a weight
And you must be under that weight
And that weight is far under
What I weigh today

Yesterday I would have just made it
Right under the wire

I could have had sex
And not spent the entire time thinking
Is he looking at this part of me?
Or that part of me?

Is he disgusted?
Is he disinterested?
Is he going to leave as soon as this is over
And never speak to me again?

People tell me I'm a pretty girl

'You're a pretty girl,' they say

But you know what I've noticed?

When you're a pretty girl
People don't bother telling you
They show you

They sit across a room from you
And stare at you
The entire night

They don't need to say you're pretty

And you don't need to hear it

And you don't need to go home with whomever will have you

You don't have to compromise yourself
Or change your rules
Or fuck some married guy
Whose cleverly hiding his ring

Oops, I cursed again
Let me drop a nickel in a jar
If I can find one

When you're skinny
You are a well-oiled machine

Everything you do
Just
Works

Sometimes I wonder
What skinny sex is like

I imagine it's wonderful
Sex with two skinny people
Two beautiful individuals
Bending themselves
Into all sorts of positions

The two of them weighing so little
That even combined together
They seem to make their collective weight shrink
And soon they're floating in mid-air
As they're fucing
And laughing
At how easy life is

And then I think of my sex
And how heavy it is
How with a man my size it's embarrassing
And with a man less than my size
It's terrifying

Lately I've been told I'm losing weight
And the other night
I went home with someone
Who was smaller than me
In that, he was small
A small man, but...

Not much smaller than me

But the other night
Like tonight
Was a heavy night

And it didn't matter
That I wasn't what I used to be
Because I'm still not light and airy either
At least, not that night I wasn't

And he was making love to me
And I was imagining another me in the room

A commentator
Warning me
Making me aware
Of all the things
He clearly wasn't noticing

Telling me to get up and turn off the light
To keep his hands on my breasts
Because those are the two parts of any woman
Where a man prefers bigger over smaller

My commentator was looking at my sex
And saying--

'No, this isn't right. You're still too heavy to be having sex.'

. . . . .

I'm looking at your faces
And I can tell it's uncomfortable

It's uncomfortable, isn't it?
Hearing me talk about all this

You're picturing me getting fucked
And you're not enjoying it all that much, are you?

Isn't it funny that every day
Millions of people watch porn
And get turned on

They get all hot and bothered
People degrade themselves
For money

But the thought of some fat girl having sex
Is simply disgusting

Well, I think that's pretty shameful

And believe me
I know an awful lot
About shame

And it's the hardest thing
To lose

Sex Made Me Believe in God

Growing up they said
That sex would make me bad
Worse, worse than I already was

That getting naked
Or even half-naked
Or even wanting to get naked
With some girl
Would turn me into a pervert

It was all about pleasing God
And sex did not please God
And desiring did not please God
And giving into those desires
Meant you were weak
And being weak did not please God

And if you did anything
That you weren't supposed to do
God would know
Because God was all about the truth

God was the truth

But I gotta tell you
I've learned the truth
And the truth is

Sex made me believe in God

The first time I had sex
With a girl I really loved
That was God

Watching her hair fall down around her
Magically covering all the best bits of her
So that I had to go exploring
To find them

That was God

Feeling her hands pull me down
Into her warmth and radiance
Holding onto me
Like I could be her rock
On the shore

That was God

Two people, in this case
Her and I
Connecting our bodies
And our dreams
And our quelling our fears
And our insecurities

Seeing each other
And accepting what was there
And saying--

This is beautiful
This is truly beautiful

I'm telling you
That was God

And when I left being a kid
I swore the last thing
I was ever going to believe in again
Was God

I said I was going to go out
And screw whomever I wanted to screw
And I was going to do it
To screw over that non-existent God
Who I still sort of believed was there
Up there judging me

But man, the first time
She whispered to me
That I looked good

And then giggling a little
And then tucking her finger
In the belt loop of my jeans
Tugging me a little

Mmm...well, that felt a little bit like the Devil

But when we were laying there
Hearing Joni Mitchell music
Stoned out of our minds
And I had my face on her stomach
Kissing the scar that ran all the way across
And I could feel her let me
I could feel her say--okay
You can see this
You can see what nobody else can see

In that moment
I believed

I really believed

Sex made me believe in good again
And God

Sex made me believe in God

The Back Seat

I used to make love to her
In the back seat

Back when I lived in L.A.
She and I would find some hill
And park

We'd have a bottle of wine
We'd watch the sunset
We'd be corny
We'd have sex
Then we'd get take-out Chinese food
And fall asleep on the couch in our apartment
Watching movies on t.v.

That's a tricky kind of life
Because you don't know how good it is
Until you've traded it in
For something seemingly better
But much more complicated

When she took the job in New York
We decided to drive cross-country
As a way of transitioning into our new lives
And we took the car with us

We made love at rest stops
At drive-inn movies
At diners
In motel parking lots
Next to churches
Next to rivers

In all the places one would normally get murdered
By a serial killer

By the time we made it to New York
My back seat was worn down
With the imprints of our bodies
But the car still drove like a dream

And the first thing she said to me
When I pulled into a parking spot
Right outside our new apartment building was--

'Aren't you going to sell that car?'

I said, 'No'

She said, 'We don't need a car in New York.'

And I said, 'What about when we go back to L.A.?'

It was only then that I realized
I was going back to L.A. one day
But I was going back alone

We only had sex a few more times after that
And none of those times was in the back seat of my car

I remember the apartment we got
Had this little bed in it
And even though it was bigger than my back seat
It was still a lot harder to make love on

It was a hard bed, and naturally cold
Even in the summer
With nothing but one half-hearted fan
Aimed at the two of us
Desperately trying to recreate California
In the middle of Manhattan

Eventually she gave in
And became a New Yorker
And I packed up my car
And made the trip back

I picked up a few girls along the way, I won't lie about that

But each time I did
I went to their place
Or took them inside whatever motel I was staying at

But I never made love to anyone else
On that back seat

Not just for sentimental reasons

I swear, if you look
You can still see the imprint of those two bodies
And I always thought the other girls would see it

And know exactly what went on back there

The Last Time We Had Sex

The last time we had sex
You were in New York
And I was here

You were thinking of Empire ideals
And new apartments next to bakeries
Next to delis
Next to delirious
Considering how you were going to achieve
A high-paying job
And an artistic outlet
And an identity

I was thinking of a summer
Spent in a place built for snow
Not breezes

And I was thinking of you leaving
And I was thinking of us breaking
Not up, but apart

Like two people on two icebergs
Drifting apart
While holding hands
Feeling our arms' limitations
And our vast expectations
Dwindle just like our images
On the horizon

The last time we had sex
You were staring up
And out

And I was crying into your shoulder
And making up poems
To send you
About distance
And its irrelevance

Basically Hallmark cards
Full of bullshit
Saying 'We'll make it'
Knowing we won't

The last time we had sex
We were planning and budgeting
Weekend trips and skipping work
And the jerks who would hit on you
In cool bars in Brooklyn

And the numbers I'd find
Left behind at the tables
While I was waiting
Reading numbers of people
I would, of course, never call

We were thinking of all the life experiences
We wouldn't be experiencing
And ignoring the fact
That there would be
No end to this temporary situation

It would continue to be temporary
Thereby making it
Permanent

But we wouldn't call it that

At least, we didn't

Not the last time we had sex

The last time we had sex
We didn't think it would be
The last time we had sex

We thought it was good-bye for now sex
Not just good-bye

And yet we knew
And yet we didn't know

Like when you're a kid
And you know the whole tooth fairy thing
Is a little bit fishy
But you hang on
Because a part of you knows
That when you stop believing in it
You're not really a kid anymore

We knew as soon as we accepted
What was going to happen
We weren't going to be
Who we'd been with each other

And we liked those people
We really liked those people

And not just because
They were really good in bed

The last time we had sex
We finished and sat
On opposite sides of the bed
With our heads in our hands
Counting

Going 1, 2, 3, 4...

Like we were going to play
A really weird game
Of hide and seek
And forgetting to hide

We were wondering if we could somehow learn
To control time with our minds
And slow, slow, slow it down
And maybe take it back
And spread it out
And play with it a little

Create an eternity
Where we are making love
Perpetually

Rather than being in this state of leaving
Grieving over leaving
Anticipating leaving
Ruining now with leaving

The last time we had sex
We ended up sitting on that bed
Not looking at each other
Facing opposite walls
Falling down rabbit holes
Where break-ups and failure
Were all the possibilities we could see

And we were scared to turn around
Afraid that one of us might not be there
Afraid of what would happen
When we turn around

Sex in the Haunted House

Look, I don't know why you're nervous

I figured you'd like the atmosphere
Of an Victorian house

Look at that canopy bed
It's, like, eight feet in the air!

Baby, the higher the bed
The closer you are to Heaven

What?

No, I didn't see anything

...Uh...no, I mean, the landlord didn't say anything about the house...

He just told me to have a great weekend
Handed me the keys
And drove off really, really, really fast

Past occupants?

Nah, just, you know
The usual--

Little old lady
Little old man
Slaughtered family of seven
That kinda--

Wait, wait, wait!

Look, I thought you said you were wild
What could be more wild
Than sex in a haunted house?

Huh?

No, sweetie, I didn't hear any noise
I'm too busy thinking about all the noises we're going to be making

I gotta admit
I'm a little...

...Aroused

Thinking about all those dead, headless
Shot-through-the-face tortured souls
Watching us do it on the bed where they were murdered

Aw, come on!

It's not like the guy's going to come back to get us!

He stabbed himself to death
Right after he was done
Cooking his cousin's left arm
In the microwave

Doesn't that turn you on?

No, I'm not into violence!
Don't be crazy

Speaking of crazy--

Do you want to make out in the closet
Where they found his Satanic drawings?
The landlord said if you listen closely
You can still hear him saying--

'Enter me, Lord of Hell'

Fine, we'll leave

Can we at least do it in the game room?

That's where he dressed up like a monkey
And played ping pong
Using his own--

FINE! NEVER MIND!

This is what I get
For trying to plan
A romantic weekend

Planning the Orgy

Lester, I have to tell you something

I...

I'm not inviting the Tentan's
To the orgy

For one thing, Angela is insufferable
And Victor's breath is so horrible
The last time he was here
He killed all our potted plants

I suppose I could mention it to him
Or to Angela
But I dread the idea of an awkward conversation

Hmm, isn't that funny?

I've performed fellatio on both of them
But the idea of bringing up halitosis
Still seems completely out of the question

Ohhh, and the Nicktons
Ugh, I don't know

I wish I could just invite Cecily
She's absolutely lovely
But I just can't handle Dan

Every time he's doing me from behind
He yanks on my hair
And calls me 'Fancy'

Do I look like a 'Fancy?'

Lester, please tell me I don't look like a 'Fancy.'

Oh, what would you know
Every time he does it
Kate Mctavish has you blind-folded
And tied to the bed

You know, it's really quite rude of you
To spend all our orgies blind-folded

That leaves all the hosting responsibilities to me
And frankly, it's exhausting

I have to refill the drinks
I have to check on the pot roast
I have to make sure everything's covered in plastic

And there you are with Kate
Playing the bipolar housewife
And the reality tv producer

I do like Robert Mctavish though
He's a sweet man

Very...tender

And he's...

. . . . .

I should probably...

Well...

He kissed me last week

I wasn't going to tell you
Because...

It was nothing

But, I know it's a rule
The kissing
So, he kissed me
I stopped him
That was that

Nothing major

But there, I told you
So...

That's done

Check, check

So the Spencers, uh, I don't know
They're both so--

They're...

Yes.

I liked it.

The kiss

Robert kissing me
I liked it

At first I thought maybe it was because
We were in the throes of passion

But then later
I was showering off

And you were doing the good-byes and...

Robert must have slipped away
Because he came inside
The shower

And...

We made love

Not sex, Lester
It wasn't...sex

Not really

It was different

In that it wasn't altogether physical

There were some points
Where he stood apart from me
And we just looked at each other

We just...looked

Now that I know it's possible
To just look at someone like that
I think we should put 'just looking'
On the 'no' list

I knew you'd be angry
About the kiss
And the shower
And the looking

Lester, I didn't mean for it to happen
But I think we need to acknowledge
That I was not the one
Who initiated these little house parties

You can't play with fire
And then complain
When the your wife
Ends up with the firefighter

. . . . .

He's leaving Kate

He told me
In the shower
He said--

'I'm leaving. Come with me.'

I thought he meant right then and there
And we only had one towel in the linens closet
So I wasn't sure how that was going to be possible

He suggested that if we left together
You and Kate could just be with each other
Since she enjoys tying you up so much
And you enjoy being tied up
And I don't

I don't

Not anymore

We haven't had sex with each other
Just each other
In YEARS, Lester

Years

Have you thought about that?

Have you thought about the fact
That it has been years
Since you have touched me
Just me
Just us
The two of us

What happened between Robert and I
In that shower
That was--

Now that I know that's possible
It's all I think about
It's all I want
It's all I'm going to accept, Lester

Do you understand that?

You're not capable of doing that anymore, Lester
You have locked away that ability
In some part of yourself
The ability to touch me
And not have it be lewd or investigative
Or prodding or advantageous

You have made yourself unable
To give anything

You need an entire room
Full of naked people
To pull focus from the fact
That you are not comfortable
Making love to your wife

And every rule we have
That's meant to make all of this okay
Only serves to make sure
That no actual connection takes place
Between any of us
Including you and I

And I'm not doing it anymore

Do you understand?

Do you understand me?

It doesn't make me feel progressive
It doesn't make me feel liberated
And you should know that

So yes, I'm leaving
Next week
After this last little house party

I'll plan it
And then I'm walking out
With Robert

I don't plan on staying until the end
I'll leave halfway through

That way
You might not even notice
I'm gone

Brady's Couch

I was sick of having sex
On Brady's couch.

We'd never had sex in his bed
Because he was embarrassed
That he still sleeps in a twin-size
With Kids Incorporated sheets on them

I didn't even know they made Kids Incorporated sheets
Until I started dating Brady

He says he likes to do it on the couch
Because it's unusual

But really it's just because
He's afraid his mother will come home
And he likes to stare at the front door
The entire time we're going at it
Making sure the lock doesn't turn

One time, during a particularly bad storm
The wind blew so hard
It knocked out the rusty lock
And the door flew open

Within four seconds, Brady jumped up
Threw a blanket over me
And had his pants on and buttoned
Before he realized that it was just the bad weather

There I was laying underneath his grandmother's quilt
Thinking--I am wayyy past this

I had been having sex with Brady
On that couch
Since we were in high school
And we were far out of high school
And nowhere near getting married
And my youngest sister was on her second pregnancy
And I just wasn't having it anymore

I wanted to take a can full of kerosene
Pour it on the couch
And burn the whole thing up in the backyard
Like some kinda funeral pyre
Making Brady watch in horror
Imagining him rocking back and forth
Like an idiot

But being a reasonable woman
I decided not to make any rash decisions
Nor did I make any ultimatums

I simply said--

'Brady, I want to have sex in your bed'

He looked at me
Like I suggested
Screwing him on his childhood rocking horse

He said the bed was too small
I said 'Hmm, then I guess one of us will have to be ON TOP OF THE OTHER! HAVE YOU NEVER HAD SEX BEFORE! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?'

I admit
The yelling was a little much

I asked what the real reason was
We couldn't have sex in his bed

He said it would feel wrong
He'd been in that bed
Since he was a kid

I said, 'Brady, that's the problem. You're a boy. I'm having sex with a little boy! I'm a kid-toucher. This is wrong! This is so wrong!'

You know, it's true what those creepy old men who marry teenagers say
Age really is just a number

You have sex with a guy since you're fourteen
And one day you realize you're twenty-three
And he's still fourteen

Time is a relative concept
When you're dealing with men

To solidify my argument, Brady started to cry

I had to go make him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich
To make him feel better

When I came back, I told him this wasn't working

I needed to move onto the next phase of my life
And that didn't include sex on couches
Or in treehouses
Or in the ball pit at Chuck 'E Cheese's

Yeah, so I didn't tell you about those times
There's shame involved, all right?
Let me keep some dignity here

I told Brady that I needed to be an adult
And I wasn't going to get there being with a kid

He kept crying
But he agreed

I'll say this for him

He's a good enough guy to know
When to let go

We even had a little break-up fling
And to show that there were no hard feelings
I offered to be the one
Keeping an eye on the door

Two Porcupines Making Love

Two porcupines decide to make love
After doing that sweet thing porcupines do
Where their little noses touch
And they kiss
And photographers sent by Hallmark
Who say they're from National Geographic
Take photos of them

This goes on for a few hours
Then the male porcupine says--

'Hey, wanna do it?'

And the female responds
By stabbing him the eye
With one of her quills

This is her way of saying--

'Sure, I've got nothing better to do.'

The male porcupine then exposes his genitalia
Which is usually twice the size
Of the male porcupine's body

At which point the female porcupine
Stabs herself in the eyes
Temporarily blinding her
So that she won't have to see
What's about to happen to her

At that point, the male porcupine
Still blinded by the female's quill
Attempts to insert his genitalia
Into the female
But instead
Ends up poking one of the Hallmark photographers
Who then screams in pain
Thereby startling the female porcupine
Who shoots two quills
Directly into the genitalia of the male porcupine
Who then lets out a sound
That the people of the jungle call--

'Babanawawa'

Which, loosely translated means--

'Holy fucking shit, that porcupine just got stabbed in the junk by his lady friend's quills. That's gotta hurt like a bitch.'

The male porcupine then runs through the jungle
Looking for an animal big enough to eat him
Because at this point, he simply wants to die

While the female porcupine
Still technically blind
Believes the Hallmark photographer to be her mate
And the other Hallmark photographer to be a predator
And so she continually shoots quills into one photographer
While dry humping the other wondering where that giant genitalia is

At this point, one of the Hallmark photographers passes out from the pain
While the other one passes out...from the pain

After the female porcupine has successfully had intercourse
With the wide angle lens on the camera of the second photographer
She ventures back into the jungle
Where the male porcupine has found an inquisitive monkey
Willing to pull the quills out of his giant genitalia
Because monkeys just do random shit like that sometimes

And now the male porcupine is licking his wounds in a clearing
Which, as you can imagine, is actually very enjoyable for him
And impressive to watch as well

The female comes upon him
And the two are finally united
To kiss for a few more hours
Thereby continuing the cycle of porcupine life
And explaining why they'll probably be an endangered species
Until the end of time

Thank you

Don't Ask

You want a drink, man?

Why don't you let me get you a drink?

I got some beers in the fridge
From this party I had Friday night

It was crazy, man

Forty girls
Six guys
You do the math

Why don't I get you a drink?

Don't you drink anymore?

I didn't even know you were back

I thought they had you in Afghanistan
Until October

Geez, that's fuckin' crazy, man

So you're back

I mean, you're back back

Wow

Holy shit

Good for you, man

Hey, why don't you have a drink?

No, seriously, man
Have a drink

I could use a fuckin' drink

So what made you look me up?

Didn't think I was going to see you for awhile
I'll be honest with you

Thought I could have some time to, uh
Process stuff, you know?

I came back feeling like maybe I had PTSD or some shit like that
But we didn't actually do anything while we were over there
So...

I mean, not really, you know?

Nothing to write books about

. . . . .

You look good

Still in good shape

How's your arm?

Only fuckin' guy I know got hurt in Afghanistan
Playing fuckin' catch

Hey, you got a tattoo now?

Roll up your sleeve
Let me see it

Looks good

Sure you don't want that drink?

. . . . .

You still chill, man?

You know what I mean?

You still know how to hang?

Cause I mean
We used to hang out, you know?

Used to have fun
Have a few drinks

Cause we could trust each other

We understood each other

Some guys out there
They get into trouble
Which is fine, you know?

What else are you going to do out there?

Can't play fuckin' Scrabble forever

Where they fuck up is
They get into trouble
Then they start shoutin' about it

And that's a different kind of trouble

Act all proud and shit
Like they figured out a cure
For boredom

Like nobody ever figured out
What you could do
To pass the time
When you're fucked up
And you might get your fuckin' dick shot off
Before you see your girlfriend again
So you don't even care what you do

A bunch of assholes walking around
Like they just figured out
Their dicks could work both ways

Then the rest of us
Who know how to keep our mouths shut
Have to listen to lectures
And bullshit

At least now we can do what we want, you know?

As long as we keep it to ourselves

We can do that, right?

Have a few drinks
Have some fun
Compare tattoos

Haha, come on man, that's funny shit

You just going to sit there and stare at me
Like I committed a fuckin' crime or something?

What are you mad I didn't call?

I thought you were gone
You know, until October

Why was I gonna call?

Why should I fuckin' have to call?

Look, I was busy all right?

Getting out
Moving to a new city
Trying to rebuild my fuckin' psyche

Sorry I forgot to send you a fuckin' postcard
I didn't realize you were going to hunt me down
Like a fuckin' nutjob

Stop giving me bullshit death glares, all right?

It's not like it was easy

Nothin's fuckin' easy

Get that tattooed on your fuckin' arm
How about that?

. . . . .

I had forty girls here the other night man
Forty fuckin' girls
And I sat on a porch
And drank beer after beer
Until I walked into some girl from Peoria
And we fucked in the bathroom
Like we were in high school

And the next day I woke up
And I...

You know, at first
I actually thought I missed being there

Can you fuckin' believe there?

I thought I missed it

Then I realized
I wasn't missing being gone
I just fuckin' hate being home

I hate having to throw parties
Just to see who shows up
Who I'm still friends with

Having girls who don't know shit
Sit on my lap and tell me
They wanna fuck a guy in uniform

Sucks, man, fuckin' sucks

. . . . .

I'm gonna go lay down

You wanna crash here tonight?

I got a pull-out

Or you know...

Whatever

It'd be nice to chill again
Like we used to

But that's up to you, man

Still have to follow the same rules

But we can still have fun, you know?

It's up to you

I'm going to grab a few beers
And then hit the sack

Think about it man

It'd be nice to know
That not everything's changed

Driving Lessons

Take a right up at the light.

You can make a right on red
But I wouldn't recommend it

It's risky

Just like unprotected sex

Better to just wait for the green light

You know what else it's good to wait for?

Marriage

Use your turn signal

You always want to use your turn signal

Just like you always want to use a condom
Two condoms would be even better
You can never be too careful

Nathan, I know I said I'd let your dad
I'm just tossing in some random wisdom

Your dad gets to have 'the talk' with you
And I get to give you driving lessons
I'm aware that was the deal
But there's no reason I can't simply solidify
Certain things he's already covered

...I'm assuming he has covered the double-wrap option, correct?

WATCH THE ROAD!

Oh goodness, Nathan
You have got to stay focused

Otherwise you could wind up lost
Going down an unknown street

You should always know what street you're on

Because some streets are dirty
Dirty, dirty streets
That only careless people go down
And then they get a flat tire
Or chlamydia

Did you know that when you get chlamydia
Your testicles balloon up
Like pomegranates?

Just the facts, Nathan
These are simply facts

Make sure you keep a safe distance
Between that car in front of you
And your vehicle

You want to be able to see
The back tires on the other car

...Safe distances are really the best way to make sure
You don't tap anybody from behind

I've gotten tapped from behind a few times
And let me tell you something
It is a real pain

. . . . .

What do you mean WHERE is it a pain, Nathan?

Are you being smart?

Because you can be as smart as you want
And still wind up passed out in a back alley
Behind a jazz club
Wondering why you're wearing army fatigues
And what happened to your kidney

Just an example, Nathan

All right, all right!
I'll stick to driving

. . . . .

Now you know you shouldn't drive
With anybody else in the car
Until you're ready to

Until you're prepared
And have thought about
What it means to have a passenger
You should really just go at it solo

Once you're ready
Once you're...mature
Then you can ask someone
Someone that is also mature
And responsible
To...

Go on a ride with you

At no time should you ever
Go for a ride
With more than one person
Only sick people do that

That's why I never owned a mini-van

I did not raise you
To go around with a bus full of people
All having a good time
Like it's the sixties all over again

One passenger, that's it

. . . . .

You will be careful, won't you?

I just...I worry

Just...use your judgment

And don't turn the wheel too hard

And really considering your decisions

And the turn signal

Don't forget the turn signal

And you should be...okay

You should be just fine

. . . . .

Oh, and don't forget to change the oil
Every three thousand miles

Your father always forgets

That's why his car doesn't run
As well as it should

Quiet Sex

Muriel, I do not
Want to have
Quiet sex

I am sick of having quiet sex

I feel like I'm a falling tree
In a forest of sex
And nobody's hearing me
And STOP CRYING IN THE MILK!

YOU'RE RUINING THE MILK!

Why must you drink milk before we have sex?
And why must you call your uncle?
And why must you scrub me down
With a very harsh brush
Before deciding that I am clean enough
To be touched

Our sex life is pretty, Muriel
It is pristine and lovely
And it makes me want to vomit
On myself
On you
On the comforter
In the hammock that we sometimes do it in

By the way, I'm sick of that hammock
And I'm sick of doing it on newspaper
Like we're making arts and crafts

I don't understand your newspaper fetish
Or your Elmer's glue fetish
Or your glitter fetish or--

Dear Christ, Muriel, we really ARE doing arts and crafts, aren't we?

I should have known

You're the only woman I know
Who can ride a man and make a clay pot
At the same time

Is that what's going on?

Are you getting your hobbies down
While we're having sex?

YOU TWISTED BITCH!

NO I WILL NOT BE QUIET!

Despite all of your disgusting proclivities, Muriel
You are horrifically conservative in one department
And THAT is the volume department

Why is it we can dress up like Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland
And then go have sex in random barns along the Vermont countryside
But me yelling out your name
Is too depraved for you?

I could put up with all your other habits
If I could just yell out--

YES! YES! GOD YES!

AT LEAST ONCE, MURIEL!

AT LEAST ONCE!

STOP EATING THAT PAPER CUP!

IT IS NON-EDIBLE!

WHY DID I EVER LEAVE MY THIRD WIFE FOR YOU?

. . . . .

Muriel, when I was a child
I attended a gospel church in the South
Which was rather strange
Because I come from a family of New England atheists

But I think my mother loved the noise
She loved hearing the joyful noise
Thrown up at, what she believed to be, a non-existent Heaven

I loved that noise too, Muriel

When I'm happy I make noise
When I'm ecstatic I like to sing to Not-Quite-Real Jesus
And when I'm with you
All I want to do is tell the world
That I am making love to the most beautiful fourth wife
A man with low expectations could ask for

So please, Muriel

Tell me that the next time we're visiting the Shipwreck Museum
And you start feeling frisky at the Lusitania exhibit
Promise that you'll let me fill those hallowed halls
With the sound of my voice

No more quiet sex, Muriel

There's far too much to talk about

Eye F**king

I am eye fucking this guy
Don't disturb me
I can't even blink
Or I will break the complicated sexual rhythms
Of my cornea

He was reluctant at first
But I gave him a little boob first
And then lifted his gaze
Right up to these babies

Once he was there
I let him have some retinal foreplay
That would give a lesser man cataracts

But not him

Nooooo

He's done this before

Now that he's gotten into it
He's relentless
I might have to put on sunglasses at some point

Twice already he's let me have
The eyebrow arch
Into the casual look-up
And it was like a sexual Ferris Wheel

We went around and around
And before the ride was done
I was stuck at the top
Not wanting to come down
Having sex with a carnie

...Wait, I think that metaphor got anecdotal somehow...

Oh well, never mind

Gotta keep my focus
Or else Optical Man
Is going to stick those peepers
At the cheap slut over near the jukebox
Dancing to Stevie Winwood

Ugh, what a slut

Damn, he's looking down at the bar

I better flash him a nip--

Oh, there he is
Thank God

He came back with a wink
A sultry eye roll
And a little lip licking action
Just to make things interesting

Hmm...maybe I should just go over and talk to him

. . . . .

Nah

Why mess with a good thing?

My Promise Ring

I wear a promise ring

I promise not to have sex
Until marriage

I promise to roll the dice
On some homely, naive girl
Who will be traumatized on our wedding night
Because she will wait until then
To learn anything about her body
A man's body, sex, what happens during sex

You know, any of that stuff

She will spend the evening
Throwing up in the bathroom
Praying that the rest of her married life
Will not be like what just happened

And I will sit on the side of the bed
In my boxer shorts
And white t-shirt
Wondering how long I have to wait
Before I suggest an annulment

This ring signifies
That though I can flaunt my sexuality
Like the pop idols I emulate
I must remember that HAVING sex
Is not the same thing as SHOVING SEXUALITY IN EVERYBODY'S FACE

Therefore, I can ride ice cream trucks with stripper poles
I can wear jeans so tight my voice goes up two octaves when I speak
I can dry hump every girl, boy, and curved piece of furniture I can find
And then I can wed someone like me
At the appropriate age of eighteen
And all of that will be fine with Jesus

This is a promise ring
And it means that I can want to do something
More than I've ever wanted to do anything in my entire life
And as long as I don't actually do it
I'm totally cool with the big guy upstairs

It's sort of like if you really wanted to maim and kill someone
But you don't actually do it
Then there's nothing wrong with you at all

Isn't that amazing?

And whenever I'm laying with my girlfriend on the couch
With nothing but our underwear on
And our favorite rock band--His Disciples
Is playing in the background
And I start to feel myself
Getting carried away

I just look at that ring
And know that if I were to have sex before marriage
My penis would turn black
And start spitting out fire

And I remember how important it is
To keep a promise

If You Attempt to Have Sex with My Daughter

If you attempt to have sex with my daughter
I will find out

I will find out
Because fathers know
When teenage boys
Are attempting to have sex
With their daughters

Alarms go off inside our bodies

Our livers shrink
Our biceps grow
Our ability to think rationally
Completely disappears

Completely

We turn into animals

Sort of like a coyote
But with a car
That can gun down a football-playing hornball
That thinks the coyote was a never a junior in high school himself
When in fact the coyote
Had many female coyote friends
Whose windows he crawled into at night
So he could...

The POINT is--I will find you

I will find you
And I will do things to you
That will leave you with severe psychological damage
For years and YEARS to come

If you attempt to have sex
With my daughter
I will murder whatever adorable pet
You have waiting for you at home
And I will staple it to your mailbox
As a warning to other impetuous boys
Who may consider my daughter an easy mark

If I find out that you even looked at her
With that disgusting post-pubescent
Amorous look that you boys have

I will find the sharpest object I can
And I will make you look like an abstract painting

YOU...WILL...REGRET...IT

Do you understand me?

I have googled Israeli fighting techniques
I am NOT dicking around, asshole

You will NOT have sex with my daughter

Do you understand me?

. . . . .

Great!

Now don't forget to have fun!

Back at the Hotel

Back at the hotel
She had me lie down
On the bed

And pull my shirt off over my head
Like they do in the movies

Hands criss cross
At the bottom
Pulling up
So that the shirt goes inside out

No messing around
With removing arms from sleeves
And the plus side?

From the bottom up
Doesn't mess up your hair

If you do it right

It's a good technique

She had me touch my chest
And rub the spot
Where little kids think their hearts are
Not realizing it's farther to the left

She has me keep me my hands at my side
She has me put my hand on my stomach
She has me learn all my lines
She has me lie on the bed

I mentioned that, didn't I?
Lying on the bed?

She has me unbutton my fly
She asked for a button, not a zipper
Because she likes the slow undoing
Of a man's pants

She likes to see a hint of baby blue boxer briefs
She likes to see the elevator go down in inches
First a hint, then a clue, then a crime, then a collision

She likes a lot of thigh
She likes the boxers to ride up
So that they're tucking me in
And raising me up
Like a training bra

She likes that

Snap, snap
She goes

Snap snap
And the camera knows
I'm a little too shy for this
And loving it at the same time

She wants me to slip my hands
Down, down, down

She says 'Yeah'
She says 'Smile'
She says 'Good, good, good'

She wants me to pull down one side
Then the other
Show her my lips
Lick my lips
Tilt my body back
Until I'm an archway
To a place she can't capture on film

This is when I go down
On the bed

I sit back on my elbows
So I'm looking right at her

Snap, snap
She goes 'Yeah'
Snap, snap
She tells me to turn over
To put my face down
Into the pillow
And pretend I'm not being watched

Then she wants me on my side
And she's on the side of the bed
Getting me head on
Betting she can make me laugh
And I'm not ashamed to admit--

She can

Then we come to the grand finale
With her standing up
On the bed
Like she's going to jump up and down
Like a slumber party sleep-over sort of thing

Without the pillow fight

Okay, maybe a pillow fight or two

She tells me to take them off

...And I do

Then she says 'Go'

And I go

Snap, snap

She says 'Show me'
And I show her

Snap, snap

I close my eyes
And let her tell me
Where to put myself

She says I'm floating
She says I'm beyond sex
She says this is art
She says I'm a man

And not in a bullshit
I play football sort of way

But really, a man

I'm a man

And she's getting it all
On film

Snap, snap

And my hands back on my chest
My other hand is doing its best
To give her what she needs
To give her the art
To make her believe I can do this

And I'm biting my lip
And I'm tripping over my insecurity
And I'm slipping further up against the headboard
And I'm going and she's snapping and I imagine an audience
Applauding me

And finally
We get it

She says 'Stop.'

We got the shot

. . . . .

Twenty minutes away
In a lovely little apartment
There live a couple
Who go to bed every night
With a kiss on the cheek
And soft linen sheets

Snap, Snap

The boy is a waiter
The girl is a wannabe photographer
And they're happy
They're happy

Snap, Snap

But back at the hotel
There are no linen sheets
And kisses on the cheek

Snap, Snap

This is where they come
To be who they'd like to be
If they weren't suffocating underneath
Marriage expectations
And Christian beliefs

Snap, Snap

So they come here
And take pictures
Of people they don't know

Snap, snap

Then they go home
And they never say a word
And the baby blue boxer briefs
Get thrown in the trash

The lines are unlearned
And the film is always burned

But at night after they kiss
One quiet peck on the cheek
They lay down to sleep
And they hear the camera

Snap

Would You Say I Lied?

If I said I was a virgin
Would you say I lied?

Would you look in my eyes
And determine
That I'm slyly making myself out to be
More saintly than I am?

And would you give a damn?
If you knew I lied

If I said I didn't fuck your best friend last night
If I said I didn't mind when you passed me by
If I said I didn't cry when you went home with some other guy
Would you call me on it
Would you say I lied?

Would you care enough about the truth
To go through that with me
To be a seeker of honesty
Would you create an awkward exchange
Or change what happened
Between you and me

If I said I didn't love you anymore
Would you store that somewhere
Until a day when you need a good item
To toss in my face

Would you place that lie somewhere
Until it became of use
Or would you lose it immediately
Letting me believe I'm that good

Would you do what you should?
Or would you say I lied?

And are you going to let me get away
With the same thing tonight?

Or are you going to do
What you always do

Sit back
Relax
And pretend
The lie's the truth

I Will Not Have Your Orgasm

Can we PLEASE stop talking about the orgasm?

I am SICK of hearing about the orgasm

I don't care if I have one
I don't need to have one
I don't even WANT to have one at this point

Because, at this point, it wouldn't even be MY orgasm anymore
It would be YOUR orgasm

Because you'd be SOOO proud
That you got me to orgasm

You'd probably let out a primal yell
Beat your chest like Tarzan
And then go make a sandwich

Why can't we just have sex?

Why are you obsessed
With me orgasming?

Isn't the point of me orgasming
The assurance that I've had a fulfilling
And wonderful sexual experience?

Well guess what?

FORCING me to have an orgasm
Is destroying any enjoyment
I would be having during sex

I spend the entire time we're having sex
Waiting for the orgasm to happen

I feel like a dog waiting in the window
For my orgasm to come home
And give me a treat

I have anxiety attacks about orgasms

No, I haven't faked
I refuse to fake
I will not be that person
Who fakes

But I have considered killing you

I've thought it--during sex

I've thought about picking up the lamp
Next to the bedside table
And knocking you unconscious with it
Just to stop the two-block carnival
That has become our sex life

Last night I actually thought
Of waving a flag in the air
As if to say--

'Enough! I surrender! Take my genitals in the next room and do what you want with them! I'm going to sleep!"

Why don't you just admit
That this is all a matter of pride for you?

It's not about me being happy

You keep saying--'I'm doing it for you. So you'll be happy.'

The next time you say that
I'm going to remind you
That the trash hasn't been taken out
In three days
And the downstairs bathroom needs to be cleaned

Why don't you do that
Instead of descending from a trapeze every night
Dressed like a Civil War soldier
Speaking in a British accent
Hoping that one of those things
Turns me on enough to make me climax?

I AM NOT GOING TO ORGASM AND I DON'T CARE!

I'm happy with B+ sex
I don't need to have A+ sex
To get an A+ you have to stay up all night studying

It's ridiculous that I have to drink coffee
Before we have sex
Or else I'm liable to fall asleep
During hour seven
And THEN I HAVE TO PEE!

You are being selfish
You are being stupid
And you--

You, I just, you--UGH!

. . . . .

I don't trust you

I don't trust you
And you know why
And we're not going to go into it

But that's it

I don't trust you

And so we can have fun
We can enjoy ourselves
We can almost get there

But I am not having your orgasm
Or anything else for you

Just so you know

So please, stop trying

And let's just settle
For that B+