Monday, 17 November 2008

Pure Magic, Pure Serendipity

I met my future ex wife again, last night. Cripsin's wine bar in Ealing. Of course shes a horrendous pick tease. But i will not rest until, she's a post orgasmic, happy as a sandgirl, quivering lump of jelly, and just when she thought it was over, a'lover, another, orgasm fires though her temple, thighs legs, and oh my god, when did my pussy become a supernova. I'm not posting the name of my love here.
Instead, just to finish off, a nearly perfected day. I met, rock guitar, wizard, Adam Temple. Down in next doors, green bar.

Note sure, how good my sing along with him was. Songs with twin vocals are rare anyway. But often powerful. Just what effect did Opra Haza vocals have on the turkeyish man in corner of the pub. I care...?

I lie, Adam Temple, won't play his own name. That would be stupid.

I have problems, in ployglot multiculture Ealing. How much does Racism stop me, from finding love. If you think those foreign mothers walking down the street, can't make your balls spin, with there words of venom. Your wrong. ' Ok, kick the baby, play kick the baby. Whats baby in turkish?

In the news recently 'Baby P' was abused by her mother. Stupid think witch. Mean hot wolf.

Big Fat Black Mother, walks down the street. saying 'Wait for', 'Rape for'... We all hate waiting. Doesn't like her audience much though. Its cold out there.

Animal city,

Woman don't love me. PhD, good dancer, the money i had from the house slipping into, my start up business. Looks weren't bad either.

Another night in the disco, another pub. Can't meet a friend or potential lover

No one helps me, ok.

The TV makes my mother take my hear.

Lesbian cat fights, oh oepidia your so weak aren't you. Don't you like men anymore.

TV pump millions of lieing love laws into man and women for centuries. The music for seen is so wrong. Maiden aunty, the BBC and heatbeat. What the dickins in right with london. Theres nothing classy or good about woman, who doesn't like sex.