it wasnt the usual  ah umm   cockblock 

                                            usually hed been cockblocked by wellmeaning girl friendsnot to be confused with girlfriends  he entertained an unseemly number of girl friends and girlfriends  he was told that was odd  which he had to disagree withrather vehemently disagree with  he preferred the company of women Women Who Run With Wolves to men  for obvious reasons and not-so-obvious reasons 

                                                                    they made more fucking sense  werent concerned about swinging their dicks  as a matter of fact he couldnt wait for them to take over the world again

The World again? 

                    he loved when people blurted that question  fucking idiots  Yah  Again

Never. You’re mistak . . 

. . An yer an idiot See  he could drop fucking so not to really hurt their feelings  look how fucking empathetic he was The Age of the Great Goddess  Marija Gimbutus  Or the Great Mother  Matrilineal leadership as opposed to patrilineal 

                                                                                                                    anif he remembered correctly it was Judaism that crushed it  Yahweh was no broad  Asherah was a broad and purged  Hierarchy was meant to be a he-thing not she-thing 

Which is too bad  We could be way ahead of where we are right now 

                                                                            I truly believe that

that said 

            it wasnt the usual cockblock

frankly it nade him laugh 

                            and he must have fallen asleep laughing

he ran the washing machine as he was laying down

fresh sheets 

             he laid in fresh sheets and they always felt insanely pleasurable to him  like comforting arms

he took to bed a casual blouse his girlfriend wore  it smelled like her  she was on a business trip

he laid down in bed listening to the white noise churning of the washer and gripped his cock with an intent to vigorously masturbate

his HUGE tom indie jumpedup onto bed  rather deftly for an obese cat  indie would challenge himhe was sure  I’m an a beast cat, Fuck. 

                 and on the bed indie worked his way up from his feet and decided to lay on himpinning his right shoulder and arm and hand  Game up!  thered be no manual diddling tonight

he slept with his head between pillows fitting  with his left he pulled his girlfriend blouse closer to his face  he inhaled her 

     Lets play in our dreams babe

lights out

1427,  Saturday – O’Biden named President-elect,  7  11. 20

https://www.biblicalarchaeology.org/daily/ancient-cultures/ancient-israel/asherah-and-the-asherim-goddess-or-cult-symbol/ 

he heard of this bakery from friends 

                                       If you’re ever in San Jose and want really good bakery goods, pies, cakes, mind you you’ll be paying a pretty penny, but as a treat they’re terribly worth it.

his girlfriend was born in San Jose

he found the bakerys address in the phonebook looked it up on a map shed go bonkers it was a mile off from the hospital where she was born 

                               hed surprise her  make a weekend of it  drive to San Francisco take in the Legion of Honor and de Young art museums  then tool down the 1 looking for a casual motel  then take dinner  in the morning theyd cross back to San Jose

on Sunday to their delight they found the bakery had a few small tables inside also served tea and coffee 

                                                                                                                Such a deal everyone he knew had a Jewishside to them

they bought a box bright pink! of sweet rolls to take with them and enjoyed a slices of pie with coffee

he took the chair facing the front door habits never die they grow old with you his girlfriend had quit fighting him for it  her chair at adiagonal faced the counter  she could see into the kitchen through large split doors their upper halves glass

the owner was as proud of his oven and flour bins and enormous baker tables as he was his productshe utterly celebrated their creation   he was also the main baker 

he brought his girlfriend into San Jose a backway to disorient her  not that disorienting her would be difficult  the only place she knew in San Jose was the hospital  she had no idea where in San Jose she lived with her parents and brother  her father was a disk jockey and personality  he would have liked to meet him but the opportunity was nonexistent  her parents suffered an ugly split and divorce  her father fell off the face of the planet  he diedshe discovered while curiously fiddling with Google 

                                                  he wondered how many times people were shocked by the death of old friends that they casuallycuriously pursued on-line  he had a share – three – they blew him up  he almost termed them good friends but had they been they wouldnt have drifted apart 

                                                                      no matter  it was Shocking

he was terribly sorry she found out on-line that her father died

they spokethey talked about the artthe canvases they saw their good fortune to have timed the trip north  the funky place they stayed  she said he had a knack for finding tacky AH  Sorry. Not really tacky; personality, motels of unique personalit . . 

. . Like us

she giggledthe giggle erupted into laughter she didnt cover her mouth 

                                                                         Yes. I suppose. Like us.

I aim to please   And surprise

You do. she reached across the table and took his hand  You do. You have a knack.

Thank you As you said a knack for tacky 

                                             the motel they stayed at when the ceiling was lighted by blacklight was adorned with cosmic swirls constellations planets gods and naked goddesses buxom sprites 

                                                                                                  an erotic glowing ceiling

he inquired the man who painted it in the 60s owned the motelrather he headed the commune that owned the motel  

each of the twelve rooms had different ceilings

they vowed to return and fuck in each room

suddenly she fell quiet 

                       her eyes filling with tears

What

she set her fork down

What is it

her eyes went between the glass counters of bakery goods and the kitchen behind the split doors

he turned on his hip

                      the women in joyous bright pink uniforms were in posturesthroes of sudden grief  they wept silently  the counter traffic had come to a standstill  some customersobviously returning customers were weeping trying to gather their witsrein in their emotions  

the pie they were eating was made that morning by the bakerys owner

they learned he had just been shot to death in a robbery  in a bank parking lot  where he was making a cash drop

he didnt set his fork down

she looked at himshe seemed to disapprove

No  he shook his head at herNo  he took a large forkful and stuffed it in his mouth 

when he finished chewing swallowing he took a sip of coffee 

                                                                 then clearing his throattamping down his upset he said If I were him Id want me to enjoy his labour his very pleasure and craft

 

0603,  Thursday,  5  11. 20

1259,  Thursday,  5  11. 20