rants n raves

by tom miller

 

 

11/20/98 - 10:33 P.M.

 

date with nice boy & fidalgo loans money to a destroyer of cowboy hats

 

i have not slept tonight. now it is morning. there are birds and they are loud. "whrank! whrank! whrank!"

 

hold on, let me light this camel...

 

*****

 

got a letter informing me the references to gay sex in my journal are icky.

 

The following excerpts are from the Ken Starr Report:

 

The President fondled Ms. Lewinsky's bare breasts with his hands and mouth and fondled her genitalia directly by pulling her underwear out of the way. In addition, the President inserted a cigar into Ms. Lewinsky's vagina.

 

According to Ms. Lewinsky: "[H]e was chewing on a cigar. And then he had the cigar in his hand and he was kind of looking at the cigar in . . . sort of a naughty way.

 

At one point, the President inserted a cigar into Ms. Lewinsky's vagina, then put the cigar in his mouth and said: "It tastes good."

 

On this day, Ms. Lewinsky was wearing a blue dress that forensic tests have conclusively shown was stained with the President's semen.

 

 

so the president of the united states is in the oval office chewing on a stogie with menstrual blood and vaginal secretions mixed with saliva, and then he blows his wad of spunk on her dress.

 

and the american people overwhelmingly support the president and don't want to see him impeached.

 

so if the president of the united states is truly a moral authority getting his dick sucked in the bully pulpit by a young intern, then i must be in the right.

 

if it's good enough for the president, his employees, and the american people, it's good enough for me.

 

i got yer icky hangin'.

 

 

*****

 

 

every day, i make money feeding drinks to drunks. when i get home, i put most of the money in a little red box. this is the rent box. when money goes into the little red rent box, it's considered spent. so maybe i was out of line when i asked patty (the pretty girl that lets me live in her house) if i could borrow back forty dollars for my date with nice boy. i didn't know where we would go, i just knew that it would probably be expensive. "sure," she said. "no problem."

 

then, a few minutes later, i asked for another twenty. i didn't want to have to worry about the money. she said, "sure. need more?"

 

"nope," i said. "this will do it." i called nice boy on the telephone and planned to meet him at the club at 7:30 P.M.

 

when i got there, i ordered an orange juice and cranberry juice mixed together in a plastic cup. then i drank it. it was good.

 

who should walk in but r. fidalgo. he said hello and ordered a whiskey. i thought to myself, i guess he hasn't read my last entry where i discuss the beer that got all over his expensive white cowboy hat. we talked about something or other... i can't remember because i haven't slept... and then i thought about the melting pot.

 

it's an award winning fondue place. great food, incredible desserts, and real fucking expensive. it's amazing to me how you can have a restaurant where they bring you raw food, and you have to cook it yourself, and it's three times more expensive than a restaurant where they cook it for you. but the ambiance is awesome. the restaurant is built in an old church or maybe a barn, but it's real nice inside.

 

now here's why i am a world class asshole. i turned to fidalgo, knowing i had soiled his hat despite my promise to protect it, knowing i owe him over a thousand dollars, knowing he's been the most supportive friend of my art and writing, and said,

 

"can i borrow a $20?"

 

it didn't take him a moment to consider it, because the guy is so fucking congenial and giving, it makes me want to shit on a puppy. and as he handed me the twenty, i thought about the hat. i fucked up the hat. the hat he said belonged to his father. for all i know, it could have been some vintage hat once worn by john wayne in some famous movie, and maybe john wayne signed his name on the rim where the beer spilt. maybe the hat was a one of a kind; a perfect white alpine resistol or a stetson, hand crafted especially for a certain type of head that has a lump on it.

 

and i took that $20 and smiled that crafty friendly smile i use, and put the twenty in my pocket, and thought to myself, i'll pay you back for everything, michael. i will make things right. yes, i'm an inconsiderate jerk. i'm selfish. i'm righteous. i deserve this $20 like i deserve a good redneck spanking. oh boy, when you read about the hat, you're going to know beyond the shadow of a doubt that tom miller is a slime bag bum of epic proportions. what a useless 33 year old. what a miserable failure. of course, christ wasn't doing much better at my age.

 

and then we talked about money. fidalgo informed me that money is as dirty as an non-maintained new york toilet. he told me that 80% of all $20 bills, including the new ones with andrew jackson's face blown up so big, he looks like a faggot evangelist instead of a firebrand, they all have traces of cocaine. and i thought about sticking a dirty dollar in my nose with staff infection or flesh eating bacteria and snorting a gram of high grade coke. i also promised fidalgo i would explore this topic on the internet and publish the interesting bits, so if you'll allow me to digress a moment and begin my redemption for the beer stains on the hat, let me keep at least one promise and present some facts about dirty money!

 

 

*****

 

 

"Seventy-eight percent of the one-dollar bills in the suburban Chicago area are contaminated with cocaine," said Argonne chemist Jack Demirgian. "The number is about the same for paper currency circulating in Miami and Houston, although the currency there tends to have more cocaine on it.

 

 

*****

 

Research reported in the American Journal of Medicine showed that 20 per cent of a random collection of loose change carried pathogens, or disease-causing bacteria. Paper money was even worse, with more than forty per cent of the paper money carrying germs.

 

Generally, the lower denomination the coin or bill - pennies rather than quarters, fives rather than twenties - the greater the likelihood of the money carrying bacteria. The researchers speculated that lower denominations changed hands more frequently and therefore had more chance to pick up germs.

 

 

*****

 

 

and you've heard of rich people using 20s to wipe their asses? frankly, i'm all for it.

 

 

*****

 

 

back to the action. now i had $80.

 

nice boy showed up, and he looked really nice. he has a nice smile and nice eyes.

 

i said to fidalgo,

 

"check out my latest entry, (referring to the one with the hat incident, although i didn't tell him that directly), and hopefully you won't kill me."

 

"huh?" said fidalgo, "won't kill you? what do you mean by that?"

 

"uh... never mind. bye."

 

nice boy and i got out of there and walked two blocks down the road to the melting pot.

 

"where are we going?" he said in his nice youthful texas voice.

 

"melting pot," i said. "ever been there?"

 

"your taking me to the melting pot? i've heard of it. it's expensive."

 

"yeah, well, a guy like me doesn't worry about money."

 

 

*****

 

 

we were seated. the waitress came and we ordered a full course meal for two. we started with salads, and the dressing was fantastic. then she prepared a swiss cheese mixture for us to dip bread, veggies, and apples into. nice boy liked the apples best. we began to talk. the conversation was natural, easy. never a moment where we sat there in silence, wondering what to say. i asked as many questions as i could. he talked and i listened. then, she brought us our raw meat. shrimp, two kinds of steak, chicken.

 

she brought a bowl of court bullion and reminded us not to eat directly off the fondue forks or our lips would fuse together from the heat.

 

what excellent service.

 

the beauty of a place like this is it takes three minutes per bite to cook the stuff, so there's plenty of time to talk, and look into each others eyes, and relax.

 

the topper was a chocolate fondue with marshmallow and graham crackers. i let him pick the dessert because i'm a libra and can't decide anything.

 

there were pieces of fruit and cake to dip in the chocolate. i went for a strawberry and when the flavor of the confection registered in my brain, i pretty much came.

 

we were both in heaven.

 

when we got back to the club, we hugged. he's a great hugger. he thanked me and i said don't thank me, it was my pleasure just to have his company.

 

it was nice.

 

nothing more, nothing less.

 

i picked out some poems for him and put a little booklet together entitled, selected poems for a friend. i gave him the booklet.

 

then, he went his way and i went mine.

 

he'll probably read it.

 

no rats, no shit, no misery, no struggles with love.

 

just sun and sunsets.

 

 

*****

 

 

i masturbated all night.

 

now i'm going to bed.

 

it's noon.

 

 

(tune in next week for the continuing adventures of tom miller and his world of the barely alive.)

 


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