"Sleeping Outside" ~ 8/21/2025
-Having my ditty; my dilly-dally in Philly: -- I can't relate... -- To speak of the business that goes on in those pages, in these "book"-stores in the city; -- 'I know thy works, women;' 'and I have somewhat against thee, -- against she, -- no matter.' The used bookstores are to me, the place where I dive-in and swim about -- for they are so hot, and muggy, and truly viscous in the summer. -- And I hold my breath, and though I stroke from the chest, no gems are abreast, -- at least not as my 'pocket-book' sees fit. But, to step into a *retailer* of literature on the other hand: new, crisp, and white of page; I should remark of the bombardment of air conditioning, -- I should. Might I dive-in the incredibly *cool* tank of A.C., expended upon for folks like me, even at these 2025 rates? -- This cool vat of retreat that the searing avenue is impregnated with? -- No, I'll have to remark of the estradiol monkey-beast of synthetic indolence and lies. The big-bad-man we know of as the industry has given us *women* to read. -- And 'by Jove,' it's not as though our medium weren't created by just these! -- Why, the novel -- is the romance novel -- in spirit, -- which we men pushed to contemporary heights, but its soul, its eroticism -- is feminine yearning, alright! -- That's *the novel:* -- the medium which any serious person regards as being the thing that is actually 'good' and actually 'matters.' So it's time to lavish in these great ladies who have written for us their porn!!!
In the tomes of Richardson, rape-smut: In the belly of Sade the same, and some. Thank goodness we held off a little in some seasons of modern life, because I think folks should actually get sleep at night. But alas our smut took root in-full mid-century and "From Here to Eternity" does it live on. The girls are getting published, the guys are locked out; -- so, 'move over little doggy,' Hank's moving in! -- And the trouble is I'm a 'big dog,' if I had opportunities to roll in this business, -- I still wouldn't get along! I live outside; I'm a 'big dog.' -- But unfortunately I'm not a dirty dog. No, I'm not dirty. -- And I don't want to feign any *erotic* sentiments directed at company like that of urban-proficient-young woman. I don't like you, your womb is like a chlorinated pickle, your birth control shrivels my dickle. I am either ejecting from, or driving out this den of synthetic queefs. A natural one is something, but it isn't noxious; so please read Keats, -- not empowered female Muslims, eat some cheese, and bequeath me something natural to breathe.