thank you for all you offer. babes, bikes, bona fide living. we are three, fuckin' dudes & takin' names, in the borough of dreams. this is our diary.
We can make a super fucked up raunchy sex tape, then just cry and hang in bed all day and talk about issues


(on facilitating jealousy & satisfying indulgence)

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Thinking about that jump rope rhyme “went upstairs to kiss a fella, made a mistake, kissed a snake, how many doctors did it take?” & wondering if it’s an STD reference. 

You know how all those early childhood rhymes were actually morbid tales & shit

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Lessons learned, (Brooklyn) bridges burned

More than pleased to see one of my drawings featured on nosexcity. I’d say she picked a very fitting one to compliment her most recent blog post. & if you haven’t been reading her site, well, you should be. One of the most entertaining and productive things I do while at “work.” Sex-capades, but guilt free!

I am easily lured from the air-conditioned coolness of my office by the opportunity to stare at passing strangers instead of LCD screens.  Workday lunch hours feel like recess.

Today I stepped outside and left everything work-related at my desk. I found a spot where I could watch the crowds passing by and opened my book, making it through a few pages before marking the page and putting in back in my bag.

I’m easily distracted, lost in the details lurking just above eye-level.  A single white brick amid the geometric arrangement of varying sand-colored ones catches my attention. I’ve begun to notice these decorative breaks most designers abandon after the first few stories of a building. It’s the natural visual break of what people wandering the streets can see while making their way up and down the blocks. Who knows how many days have passed where I forget about the blue sky looming over all this cement, the towering canopy of man-made materials holding in the exhaust fumes and a low-hanging sense of entrapment. It’s hard not to get caught up in that, to forget how much of this country is made up of wide open spaces where the horizon is more than just a city skyline.

The ledge I’ve chosen gives me just enough shade to avoid tanning but enough sun on the back of my shirt to feel warm. I alternate between marveling at the sky and the buildings above. Despite the number of people walking in front of me, this is the closest I can come to being alone in New York. I feel the most invisible here when I’m standing in a crowd. I still haven’t decided how that makes me feel.

These reflections are interrupted by the chirping of my phone. There’s a new text from a number I don’t recognize.

So I read your story about mw…

My quiet workday moment is definitely over. I’m going to puke in my lap. Panicking, I scroll through my phone to pick out a list of every person I’ve written about online. Everyone I can think of is in my contacts list; I save peoples’ phone numbers after blowing them off for this very reason. I have to know who the fuck it is, right now.

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(via nosexcity-deactivated20140501)

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from the archives
  • mccall: "i want to relive this entire weekend every weekend. i have been laying in bed trying to remember the line i said that CT wanted to write down that would make a good song lyric. i don't think i'll every remember. but maybe when his album comes out it will be obvious"
  • me: "i've been trying to remember for sure if he put his extremely talented penis in my vagina. but i'm sure when the next album comes out it will be obvious"
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Relationship advice from a Jewish Grandma

Look for a best friend who you have great sex with. (we say this. but easier said than done)

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  • Me: You know what what I was hoping to get this weekend?
  • McCall: ASS?
  • ...
  • Me: Well, always. But what I was going to say was sun on my pasty limbs. I never get what I want.
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