Whoa, what's with the bruises on your hands?

I was doing my taxes.

And...

Well, when I throw things they break, if I scream the neighbors will hear me so, I bang on the table and hope they think I'm building something.

Beauty is in the moment.

It is not "because at this moment I am young" or "I have on nice shoes".

Beauty is timeless.

It is for the young and the old.

Take a deep breath.

Let it out.

And feel beautiful.

Funny how the opposite sex seems so fresh and promising before the fuck.

But, then you see the clothes crumpled up on the floor and taste the fuzz and cigarettes in your mouth and it's like someone turned on the day time lights in the bar.

It's just another cycle. 

Desire identified. 

Desire satiated. 

Repeat.

Maybe next time start in the daylight.

This is my first posting. So, here are my reasons and excuses for starting this blog...

I always feel like I can't stop noticing, what feels like, EVERYTHING. I am also not the best at grammar and the written word so, try not to be too hard on me. Thanks.

I've decided to put my imagined scenario before the factual one.

What Price Cigarette?

Standing.
Waiting.
Cold this morning. Even in August the West Coast always seems to have a sliver of chill running through it. It feels even worse when you’re waiting, waiting?, for a trick to drive by on a work day morning.
God,I need a smoke.
Guy across the street.
I mime “gotta smoke?”
“No, sorry” he says, lighting a cigarette with a smile.
A car pulls up, he tosses his butt on the ground, hardly a butt, more like a whole one and gets into the car.
I walk across the street, grab the cigarette off the ground.
Oh well, anything to keep warm.

   I live in an area that has a lot of prostitution. Our apartment is on the second floor with a very large front window that allows us, my husband and myself, to observe much of what is going on in the street below. Most of the time we watch what happens and then begin speculating about the different possible scenarios.
  Early one morning I saw one of the regular women out on the corner doing what they usually do, trying to make eye contact with passing drivers, when this guy walks up to the opposite corner and says something to her. She replies by making a "gotta smoke?" gesture. He says something, tosses his barely smoked cigarette on the ground, gets into a car that's just pulled up and drives off. She crosses the street picks up the cigarette and starts to smoke it. 

  I  guess was interested in this exchange because I was wondering did he say "no, I don't have an extra smoke" even though he did? Or "no way you slut, not for you" Or, If I throw it on the ground no one will know I gave this prostitute something but, I'm still kind a good guy?

Hmmm...