CHAPTER 1

Do I want love?
Sure I do.

Maybe our problem is wanting it too much. I know when I'm trying to write something, it never comes out right. Especially if I want it a certain way. Sometimes though when it just happens, it's the kind of thing that blows my mind. I could never have imagined it any better. No thought or preparation, it just pours out of me and I'm excited to the point of arousal by my own cleverness. Maybe thats what a good one night stand is like? I wouldn't know.

Fucking for me has always been like sitting down and telling myself I have to write. The only time I got laid was when I went just outside Altadena to my favorite whorehouse. Oddly, the establishment has been in business since my grandfather use to go. I suppose my father went as well when he was my age. I happened across the place by accident. I know of my grandfathers involvement simply by this: On the wall of a buried hallway of that whorehouse is a picture of him and several of the ladies. He looked like a happy fucker. That was when pussy was pristine. You'd be lucky to find valuable pussy now a days. Even if you did find a young girl who was that willing, it's usually not "off the shelf." So to say. You wouldn't have to pay for it, Yes, but it's definitely not valuable either.

You really do get what you pay for. Whether it be stereos, televisions, automobiles or pussy. There are those guys who pay for love as well. Their love isn't as obvious an investment as when I would get pussy at the whorehouse. They get their love in a wall street kind of way. Almost entirely on credit so to say. Those guys you see on the street in argyle sweaters and a wife who looks like she belongs in a porno. The kind of love you have to be a superior geek to figure out. The kind of love you have to have some kind of brains to be able to eek out.

I suppose I couldn't speak about Love without mentioning Hate. I once found in my fathers library a transcription of the Der Ring des Nibelungen. An important character in it is a Troll named Albrecht. When he can't get any pussy from the water nymphs and his heart is trampled on, he ends up incidentally causing the destruction of the world. More or less.

Hate can do that, also another good reason to get pussy whenever you can. Why do you think the religious types are always on about Revelations and the end of days. They know they're not getting enough pussy and it will do us all in eventually.

For a large part of my life I can honestly say I felt no disdain for another person. I was happy isolated in our house in Altadena. A world away from the children of Cain. I went out occasionally to see the congenial whores. Whores do tend to have a wonderful sense of humor, contrary to their portrayal in film.

Otherwise I kept to myself on the estate, occasionally interacting with my Steward and Butler, Ari. The older I became the less we interacted. Ari was a man of few words and had served closely with my mother since just before my birth. After she passed away, I became one of Ari's chores. Though our relationship was more or less a working one, he served as a mentor and a scrapbook in a peculiar capacity. They say no man is an island, but I tried my best to keep the world at bay.