Journal Entries 2004: Titles & Abstracts January 1: I'm goin' fishin', baby, and I've got a long, long pole. In which the word plunce is defined, its etymology traced, and the purposes of this journal explicated. January 3: Brown sugar, how come you taste so good? In which the applicability of black box theory to an understanding of women is weighed. January 4: Brown sugar, just like a young girl should. In which black box theory comes to an unsuspecting young man's emotional rescue. January 6: I'm going down, down, down, down, down, down, down/to Pussy Town. In which the significance of cassoulet on a cold winter's night is discussed. January 12: He's a deep sea diver with a stroke that can't go wrong . . . In which the author reports on his first encounter with someone met through an online dating service. January 13: . . . he can stay at the bottom and his wind holds out so long. In which the author's first internet-generated date goes on . . . and on . . . and on . . . January 21: You've got the instruments of pleasure at the end of your sleeves. In which the issue of counting on coming is addressed. February 4: There are no two nipples alike. In which we scrutinize the nipple seen 'round the world. February 5: I got nipples on my titties, big as the end of my thumb. In which we sink our teeth further into the import of Janet Jackson's soul-baring act. February 6: My nipple rings don't bother me too much. In which our weighing of Janet Jackson's "costume reveal" concludes. February 15: I want to play with your poodle. In which the value of frank disclosure in online personals ads manifests itself. March 7: She said, my breasts they will always be open . . . In which the author's online dating service begins to seem desperate in its relation to him. March 15: How could I leave this behind? In which an ex makes an unexpected request for continuity (of a certain kind). March 23: Want you to squeeze my lemon till the juice runs down my leg. In which the matter of frottage comes under close scrutiny. April 11: You can't get it when you want it/You gotta catch it when you can. In which a man's taking matters into his own hands comes highly recommended. April 21: Thinkin' about my honey dripper and all the wrong she's done. In which this author leaves a woman to her own devices -- but acquires a few for the house. April 30: My springs are getting rusty, sleeping single like I do. In which a candidate for Next presents herself (perhaps). May 26: She was drinking alone -- lordy, what a waste of sin . . . In which the wisdom of Walt Kelly's Churchy LaFemme comes unexpectedly to mind. June 1: . . . so I went on over to sweet-talk that girl, moved right on in. In which nothing pans out. June 3: Anytime you get hot, baby, call up your ice man and I'll cool you down. In which your correspondent trades in one online dating service for another (actually three others). June 4: I hide in the smile and aim for the quim. In which a more direct approach to finding a new bedmate gives signs of paying off. June 6: Just a little spoonful of your precious love satisfies my soul. In which two seekers after truth (and sexual ecstasy, and love) exchange and compare matchmaking-service profiles. June 9: Kiss me, honey, it makes my love come down. In which our author hears from a woman whose curiosity he's piqued online. July 9: We all need someone we can cream on . . . In which the demonizing of porn consumers by the mass media draws our author's attention. August 11: Good mornin', little schoolgirl, can I come home with you? In which we consider the cultural contribution of our current Marie Antoinettes. September 1: Pretty baby, you're the only one/that makes me come/in your mouth right now! In which we assess the political consequences of a failure to swallow. September 10: Sex farm woman, don't you see my silo rising high? In which the oral tradition meets a new technology, all in service of the libido. October 5: If you don't like my peaches, please don't shake my tree. In which we contemplate some of the peculiar things that men (at least this author, as a random cross-section of his gender and gender persuasion) find sexy. October 11: I wanna swallow you whole 'n I wanna lick you everywhere it's pink. In which we discover yet another form of experimental literature arising from the sex industry. October 12: Well, now, you may think I'm crazy, but I want you to lick my decals off, baby. In which the impact of Tristan Tzara, Jack Kerouac, and Captain Beefheart on sex-industry spam marketing reveals itself.

back to top