The Electromagnetic Sword

Junk-food Sex

noreply@blogger.com (A. Lane) — Tue, 07 Jun 2011 01:07:00 +0000

"...to approach sex carelessly, shallowly, with detachment and without warmth is to dine night after night in erotic greasy spoons. In time, one's palate will become insensitive, one will suffer (without knowing it) emotional malnutrition, the skin of the soul will fester with scurvy, the teeth of the heart will decay. Neither duration nor proclamation of commitment is necessarily the measure- there are ephemeral explosions of passion between strangers that make more erotic sense than many lengthy marriages, there are one-night stands in Jersey City more glorious than six-month affairs in Paris- but finally there is a commitment, however brief; a purity, however threatened; a vulnerability, however concealed; a generosity of spirit, however marbled with need; an honest caring, however singed by lust, that must be present if couplings are to be salubrious and not slow poison."

- Tom Robbins from Still Life With Woodpecker (1980)

My Ten Favorite Love Songs at This Very Moment

noreply@blogger.com (A. Lane) — Fri, 03 Jun 2011 00:48:00 +0000

1. "The Lovecats" by The Cure

2. "Shadow of Love" by The Damned

3. "(I'd Go The) Whole Wide World" by Wreckless Eric

4. "Perfect Day" by Lou Reed

5. "Baby, I Love You" (cover) by The Ramones

6. "Semi-Charmed Life" by Third Eye Blind

7. "Unchained Melody" (cover) by The Righteous Brothers

8. "New York City" by The Polyamorous Affair

9. "Rolling in the Deep" by Adele

10. "I Want To" by Best Coast

Some Things Can Never Return

noreply@blogger.com (A. Lane) — Fri, 03 Jun 2011 00:21:00 +0000

I think we all have someone we could have dated in our pasts. Not like someone we were capable of dating, but someone we could have legitimately had a serious relationship worth being in with.

Two, maybe three, years ago a good friend of mine moved in with a quite handsome and very nice guy. We got along well right off the bat, but I was never a frequent visitor at their place. It was always a very sweet, innocent thing. Every once in a while I would text him when I was bored, or he would call to see how I'd been, but it was no great romance.

One time he traded me a haircut for concert tickets, then admitted he had just wanted to take me to that concert. We ran into my most recent ex at the time at that show and it was a comfort to be there with someone as sweet as this boy was. We kissed that night, but nothing ever came of it.

A couple of months ago, I found out that he committed suicide. I haven't really talked to any of my friends about this. I don't even know what I'd say if I did. I guess just that he was a kind and wonderful person that I miss from time to time.

Nice Guys Don't Wear Leather.

noreply@blogger.com (A. Lane) — Sun, 31 Oct 2010 23:30:00 +0000

I'm featured in the current edition of Bleach Online, so you should all check it out here!

Ain't Nobody Here But Us Dogs

noreply@blogger.com (A. Lane) — Sun, 31 Oct 2010 22:48:00 +0000

I have recently acquainted myself with the doghouse.
I am currently in the doghouse.
I HATE THE DOGHOUSE.

Seriously, I don't understand this concept at all. If you care about someone and they fuck up but you're willing to take them back and fix things, how does it help to not forgive them/keep bringing things up/make them feel like shit all the time? I'm pretty quick to forgive someone unless they royally fuck up, and in those circumstances I just drop people rather than act like an asshole around them when I know I'll never really feel the same again. How can it possibly make someone feel better to constantly remind the person they are with that they're the bad guy. Playing persona non grata has never been my thing. I can only take so much crap before I leave.

Bad Patterns by Tiffany Diane

noreply@blogger.com (A. Lane) — Sat, 30 Oct 2010 17:36:00 +0000

Everybody comes to the point in their dating life where they realize what kind of patterns they seem to be stuck in. I have always harnessed the mindset that "I go for the wrong guys," but that's a duh statement. Every chronically single woman can apply that to their behavior. If I were going for the right guys, I wouldn't be single.

A diagram of my pattern:
1. I go for bad boys.
2. Bad boys go for me.
3. Bad boy pretends to be good, for a while, for me.
4. Bad boy realizes either A) I'm not worth it or B) I'm too good for him -- I like to think it's always B.

5. Bad boy goes back to being bad.
It's an endless loop. Why do I do this?

For Non Blondes

noreply@blogger.com (A. Lane) — Mon, 25 Oct 2010 03:14:00 +0000

One time, I made out with two blonde boys at a party, because I was drunk and thought they were the same guy.

scary scary

noreply@blogger.com (tohearstories) — Thu, 08 Jul 2010 05:01:00 +0000

being right smack dab in the middle of that middle part is always terrifying, isn.t it? you aren.t just banging, but you aren.t together. you aren.t exclusive, but, be honest, you.d feel wronged if they exercised their right. you are just out there, exposed, vunerable, prone and completely devoid of the comfort of a defining phrase.

and the really fucked up part of it? they probably feel the same way. but, so what? there are games to be played and, like it or not, you are playing one. why? because you don.t have the option of not. choosing to not play means you lose. sorry, that.s just the ways. you can try to fight it, but you may as well try to surf a motherfucking tsunami. some things are just bigger than you.

Alarmed

noreply@blogger.com (A. Lane) — Wed, 07 Jul 2010 20:54:00 +0000

I've recently been experiencing mind-fuckingly bad insomnia, that has caused me to sleep through my alarm after I finally do pass out from exhaustion. Due to this, I've been setting six alarms to wake me up.

My neighbor, who has never spoken to me before this, knocked on my door the other day, and had the balls to tell me that I must be sleeping other places, forgetting to turn off my alarm before I leave home, and that it was waking him up. When I informed him that I was actually sleeping in my bed and right through my alarm, he was shocked.

I've reigned in my alarm setting to two.
My neighbor's a douche.

Two things:

noreply@blogger.com (A. Lane) — Wed, 07 Jul 2010 20:43:00 +0000

1. My friend George has started writing on here. Anything posted by tohearstories is written by him and adored by me.

2. BleachOnline DROP recently mentioned this blog, which I thought was super sweet of them.

Okay, back to talking shit!

Man On Paper

noreply@blogger.com (A. Lane) — Wed, 07 Jul 2010 20:30:00 +0000

My friend Morgan has a history of making bad dating decisions. She decided to start making a "perfect man" list that lays out all the qualities she wants in a guy, so the next time she's seeing a dude if he doesn't fit the criteria she can kick him to the curb right off. It seemed like a good idea/I was bored at school, so I started making one too. Mine had things like: has a car, isn't drunk all the time, has a career or is working towards one, hasn't slept with everyone I know, etc. When Morgan and I shared our lists her's had things like: has three horses, carries a lucky charm in his pocket, always has a knife on him. I don't think that list is going to keep her from repeating mistakes.

Hot Tub Time Machine

noreply@blogger.com (A. Lane) — Wed, 07 Jul 2010 20:13:00 +0000

Tiffany and I have decided to become pool sharks. We were practicing (she was actually getting better while I was continuing to suck) at The Grand the other night, when I noticed this dude was watching us play and kind of drunkenly wobbling near by. I quickly realized I'd known the guy since I was sixteen or so, though I hadn't seen him in a couple of years.

The last time I saw him I was in my "take acid and go places without telling anyone" phase, and he yelled at me for dumping his friend while we were hot tubbing. That night actually ended that phase, since it was obviously an unpleasant trip and no one realized why I was flipping shit.

ANYWAYS

He walked up, and the conversation went a little something like this:

Him: So, where's your boyfriend tonight?
Me: I don't have a boyfriend.
Him: That can't be.
Me: Nope, I'm single.
Him: Well, my name's Tim. What's yours?
Me: Tim, I've known you since high school.
Him: What?
Me: I dated your friend David, and the last time I saw you you were yelling at me in front of a hot tub.
Him: We were in a hot tub? I was just mad you weren't dating me. (Lame line.)
Me: You were yelling about me dumping him. I'm Ashton.
Him: Oh my god. I'm really sorry!
Me: It was a few years ago. No worries.

He then bugged Tiffany for a bit, watched us play pool and wandered off. Oddly enough, that wasn't the first time I've been hit on by one of that ex's friends not realizing who I am. Maybe I got hotter or something?

what to do, what to do

noreply@blogger.com (tohearstories) — Mon, 28 Jun 2010 03:07:00 +0000

what is it about crazy girls and boys that seems so god damn sane? why does their perception of things seem, while not correct in the technical sense of what.s been projected socially, so dead on? they think like a fucking knife that cuts through all lies except their own, which is just so. fucking. hot. and that whole frantic, all or nothing, about to explode from sheer enormity of feeling energy that just emanates off of them in fucking waves ... my god.

listen, i know when something isn.t good for me. some fires burn too hot, they consume all, yeah yeah, i get it. but i also know i.ll always regret not being brave enough to act on my desires. and, let.s be honest, who the fuck am i really? i am neither tame, nor safe, nor fragile. i appreciate the concern and the warnings. i know they are coming from a place of love, but this isn.t exactly moth to a flame, or a wolf preying on a sheep. no, it.s more like wolf to wolf. really, she.s in for just as wild of a ride as i am.

Bzzzz

noreply@blogger.com (A. Lane) — Sun, 20 Jun 2010 19:34:00 +0000

I was at my shitty, retail job the other day, when I noticed this big, nasty fly buzzing around the store. It spent the better part of the morning annoying me. When it finally stopped and settled on the wall I noticed it was a really pretty copper color, and instantly stopped being annoyed that it was in the store.

Beauty colors all of my human interactions too. I'm not sure if it bothers me.

A message from an old friend [read: flame]:

noreply@blogger.com (A. Lane) — Tue, 15 Jun 2010 17:24:00 +0000

"Sorry we don't get along. Hope everything is well with you. Please don't respond to this."

In the words of the Infanta, "For the future, let those who come to play with me have no hearts."

what was i to do?

noreply@blogger.com (tohearstories) — Tue, 15 Jun 2010 04:27:00 +0000

i mean, seriously, how would you have handled it? if you.d just been cheated on, if you.d just been ignored and made to feel worthless for damn near 2 years, what would you have done if your new gfriend blew you off for the day to get trashed and end up sleeping next to her x bfriend?

and, yeah, sure, probably nothing happened. i don.t even necessarily disbelieve that, but there are implications and appearances, and we all know that shit matters more than we care to admit. how does a person just not know that?

and, pray tell, how exactly does that not come up when we were texting back and forth all day? is overhearing joking about it in a bar really the best forum to break that news to me?

FUCKING SLUTS: A Brief Story and Commentary

noreply@blogger.com (A. Lane) — Fri, 11 Jun 2010 19:58:00 +0000

Yesterday, my friend Victoria and I were walking back to her car from a bit of shopping. I was wearing some fairly short shorts, a sweater, hoodie, and leather jacket. She was wearing a fitted dress, and a large scarf. Neither outfit was that shocking (other than how awesome they looked on us). Then we hear some probably dumpy bitch scream from a distance at us, "FUCKING SLUTS".

Are you kidding me?

I mean,

no, seriously

What the fuck is wrong with you?

Who screams at total strangers like that?

I'm pretty girl power about things, unless some chick pisses me off, and this was ridiculous. We should be sticking together, not tearing each other down. Girls who yell at other girls like that usually consider themselves to be feminists, and think they're trying to put down my awful short short wearing, being feminine, not hating everyone who doesn't look like a nasty hippie ways. Super good job. You just degraded a fellow female far worse than any man did that day.

Golf claps.

notice me! notice me!

noreply@blogger.com (tohearstories) — Mon, 31 May 2010 15:26:00 +0000

you know what.s really great about being very perceptive? noticing everything. you know what.s really shitty about being very

perceptive? noticing everything.

take, for example, the case of a recent x. a relationship fraught with mistreatment and disastrous in its ending. i hate to be toxic, but in the interest of honesty: i was cheated on, emotionally and psychologically abused, made to feel worthless, and ultimately discarded with amazingly callous disregard. three days after our two year relationship ended, the x started dating one of my closest friends.

admittedly, it took me a hot minute to find myself again, to process and deal with the betrayal, to remove the proverbial knife. but i did, and with remarkable speed, according to my friends. so after the 5 stages, when in full on acceptance, it was necessary to figure out how i felt about the x.

after diving into my subconscious, what i was amazed to discover was that i actually don.t like the x. faux intelligence, a fun suck, an odd combination of fragility and coldness, depressive by nature, opinionated without depth, and not very charming or fun to be around. couple all of that with the feelings of betrayal and being shown with no uncertainty that my feelings are not a factor... i don.t really have any motivation to attempt to build a friendship with this person.

fast forward 2 months. i.m dating someone new, we are bfriend/gfriend, and its going great. sidenote: i went completely outside the x and i.s social circle and quite unintentionally found someone completely unknown to either of us. now, here are the questions these past four paragraphs have been framing. why is my new partner getting the evileye staredown from the x when we are at the same party or show? why is the x showing up places at times i am known to be, making sure to stay in my field of vision and then leaving shortly after i arrive? paths are bound to cross every now and again, and i don.t want to go into specifics, but we are talking about intentional popping up to an almost humorous extent. in short, why is the x trying to be up in my face?

i.ve never excelled at turning off the brain, and i don.t want to focus on these questions, mainly because i think that.s the x.s intent. to keep active in my brain, maybe to try to reclaim power over me, send me back to depression or bargaining when i.ve already moved past acceptance. who knows, but it is curious. maybe it really is as simple as people want what they can.t have. strange, that.

Level Seven Stalker

noreply@blogger.com (A. Lane) — Mon, 17 May 2010 02:52:00 +0000

Doesn't everyone love it when skeezy little girls (cock pockets) try to start shit with people they hardly know over blog entries they have no business reading? I know I do, because it gives me a reason to have under-agers thrown out of bars they don't belong in. Maybe if you had a life you wouldn't have caught that the day I wrote it.

I'll be seeing you!
Ashton

cock pocket (noun)

noreply@blogger.com (A. Lane) — Mon, 17 May 2010 02:47:00 +0000

Pronunciation: /kɒk ˈpɒkɪt/

A female who is excessively promiscuous at a young age.

Synonyms: slut, whore, skeez

hot pocket (noun)

noreply@blogger.com (A. Lane) — Mon, 17 May 2010 02:37:00 +0000

Pronunciation: /hɒt 'pɒkit/

A small group of attractive people in a crowd of big, dull duds.

Synonyms: cutie crew, lovelies, pretty posse

Boys are so fucking stupid.

noreply@blogger.com (A. Lane) — Sat, 15 May 2010 01:11:00 +0000

I'm not big on commitment. If you're hanging out with Girl A and Girl B, as long as no one's seriously dating it's not a big deal. That being said, don't put a bunch of pictures of you making out with Girl B on facebook where Girl A can see it. Use some common sense.

Good Friends /// Bad Friends

noreply@blogger.com (A. Lane) — Wed, 05 May 2010 20:26:00 +0000

Female friends in Austin can be tricky. There are plenty of girls I see out that I can hug and trade complements with that I would never trust with anything personal or important. I guess us all being in the same dating pool with the same cute/sleazy dudes skeezing around doesn't help. Competing for dick doesn't really inspire sisterly love. That said, I have two stories -more like story-lettes- one about a good friend of mine, and one about a girl whose ass I'd like to kick.

1. When I was going out a lot there was this guy I would see pretty much everywhere. He'd never talk to me, but he'd follow me from area to area at the places I was out at and make eyes. This sounds totally creepy, but fortunately for this dude, he's really hot. One night, he finally got the balls to talk to me. Just as we were awkwardly meandering the "What do you do? Where are you from?" line of conversation, my friend Tiffany walks by, and quickly whispers, "Don't talk to him. He's gross." I immediately turned off my game, and found somewhere else to be. The dude did end up being one to throw into the late night booty call pile.

2. I used to have this fucked up, attention-seeking friend. Whenever we would go out and she wasn't getting enough attention from guys, she would freak out and we'd have to leave. Right before she left Austin, I stopped talking to her because she was telling people lots of crazy, made up stuff about me. On Halloween last year, we were out and she had this costume that didn't really look like a costume, so no one cared about what she was. Of course she freaked out, we had to leave, and when I dropped her off at home she started tearing apart this painting and crying. Total buzzkill. I ended up going to a party with Dallas friends after that and having a blast.

Shit

noreply@blogger.com (A. Lane) — Wed, 28 Apr 2010 18:14:00 +0000

My friend Carla told me this story the other day. It didn't even happen to me, and it makes me feel so incredibly embarrassed.

"My friend was out one night and she met this guy. It was like love at first sight. They danced together all night, and then she went home with him. He had just moved into his house, and he told her the toilet wasn't working. The next morning he had to leave to go to work, he said that the front door would lock itself when it was closed, so she could just leave whenever. She went back to sleep, and when she woke up she started getting ready to go home. She forgot about the toilet, and crapped in it. When the toilet wouldn't flush, she remembered. She freaked out and put the poop in a plastic bag, then sat it on the table to take out when she left.

Of course, she forgot it.

The door locked behind her, and that baggy of shit was left on the table."

Imagine what that guy thought when he got home from work to find a bag of poop sitting on his table.

That Joke Isn't Funny Anymore

noreply@blogger.com (A. Lane) — Fri, 26 Mar 2010 20:54:00 +0000

aka Stop Me if You Think You've Heard This One Before
aka Bigmouth Strikes Again
aka Every Smiths song title works for this entry.

One time, I went over to this guy I was seeing's house, and he goes, "Hey, have you seen 500 Days of Suck?" Then he started laughing really hard.

A couple of days later I was hanging out with him again, and he goes, "Hey, have you seen 500 Days of Suck?" Then he started laughing really hard.

A week later we were getting something to eat, and he goes, "Hey, have you seen 500 Days of Suck?" Then he started laughing really hard.

Real cute.