“jason,
i was looking at your blog and i cant believe you gave that pleasure machine to the advertising guy that was sucking up to you. He may as well have finished with a ‘Carpe Diem’.
now please send me that object. I do not require it for any sexual purpose as i have a delightful girlfriend but i am in need of a new pencil case.
regards
Mathew.
p.s. here is my current pencil case.”
Jeez… there’s one in the mail for you too then.
So that’s one Fleshlight© left. Write, or it’s going to that guy outside Dunkin’ Donuts with the wooden leg.
photo: Tim Page.
BOOK CLUB! BOOK CLUB!
Michael Herr’s Dispatches is one of the most compelling books I’ve read in a long time. Part memoir, part reportage, part utter freak-out, Herr’s vivid account of Vietnam between the years 1967-68 is incredible to the max. If you only read one book this year, and you’ve already read Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s The Little Prince, read Dispatches.
Here’s a passage:
“Going out at night the medics gave you pills, Dexedrine breath like dead snakes kept too long in a jar. I never saw the need for them myself, a little contact or anything that even sounded like contact would give me more speed than I could bear. Whenever I heard something outside of our clenched little circle I’d practically flip, hoping to God that I wasn’t the only one who’d noticed it. A couple of rounds fired off in the dark a kilometer away and the Elephant would be there kneeling on my chest, sending me down into my boots for a breath. Once I thought I saw a light moving in the jungle and I caught myself just under a whisper saying, “I’m not ready for this, I’m not ready for this.” That’s when I decided to drop it and do something else with my nights.”
Woof! Fucking brilliant.
