<\/p>\n
<\/a>
note: pic not<\/u> related to SDF (there’s not even any washers or dryers).<\/div>\n
h e y ! had another of those spontaneous daylight (sort of) fantasies
\n— at night they’re called nightmares (or wet dreams, if you’re lucky). it
\nwent: i was doing laundry, met a guy there who i’d probably met there before
\nduring my anti-social depressive state (recently ended, i hope). i said
\nhi, rattled on and on about my love of snow (we have fifteen new inches here in
\nWorcester), and i was generally just nauseatingly friendly. he was, in my
\nspontaneous daylight fantasy (SDF), living in with the single mom and her two
\nlittle girls upstairs from the laundry room. as he left with a basket-heap
\nof clean laundry he said something about buying some other kind of white
\nstuff. he wanted to sell me drugs. \n<\/p>\n
i said, “what?” knowing exactly what he had said. he replied, “nothin,”
\nand he darted out the door. feeling like that had just made me appear like
\na prude who was temporarily in the middle of a friendly-talkative-manic phase, i
\nwent outside after him. ”
\nh e y ! ” i yelled. he stopped — this was a
\ngood thing. he could have ignored me, abandoning our encounter as just
\nanother wasted few moments of human interaction. he certainly could have
\nmisinterpretered anger in my voice when i yelled ‘hey!’ — imprecise vocal
\nmodulations are the way with us manics, and i was a bit loud. but maybe it
\nwas my frustration because another social effort (which are rare as gold in
\nthese parts — at least for my part) was wasted because i was mistaken, again,
\nfor something i am not, or at least for something i don’t want to be. \n<\/p>\n
he probably thought i wanted to rat him out, or fuck with his head, or
\nthreaten his apartment situation just because — oh, who knows why, just because
\nonce-upon-a-bad-time-reagan told us it was o.k. to hate certain people for
\ncertain reasons. but he (my laundry encounter) stopped anyway and waited
\nto hear me. i look for that; people who still hold out for the potential
\nof the unknown in spite of their fear of the known. it felt like kindness,
\nand as he stood there looking at me, his eyes were clear as innocence. \n<\/p>\n
anyway, (this is going on forever) i didn’t want to take the easy way out,
\nand stay with my laundry while he brought his home, and let it end without at
\nleast an effort to be clear, to understand and be understood. “maybe i do
\nand maybe i don’t want some,” i said to him. <\/p>\n
“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” he started to say before i got the
\nfirst ‘maybe’ out. i forged on, tolerating his understandably defensive
\nreaction, hoping i did actually understand, hoping i was not acting
\nirrationally. i’ve done that<\/b> before…<\/p>\n
“i know a lot of people who have used lots of drugs in the past, some of my
\nfriends still use drugs, occasionally. i like them all, a lot. i
\nmight even consider buying some weed from you in the future, who knows, but
\nright now i just don’t want there to be any misunderstanding; i don’t have any
\nproblem with that. it was nice talkin to ya, i’ll see ya round.” \n<\/p>\n
i turned back to the laundry room, half expecting him to roll his eyes and
\ndismiss me with a disconcerted sneer. i left him just standing there,
\nholding his laundry. ‘i tried’ i thought with resignation, as i descended
\nthe few little steps back down to the basement laundry room door. when the
\ndoor didn’t close behind me, i looked, and there he was. <\/p>\n
he sat on top of one of the dryers, and we talked until my laundry was all
\ndry. it didn’t seem to take long at all. over weeks we got to know
\neach other, he would stop by for coffee. he’d smoke, i’d pass.
\nusually. one day he walked in, i said hi, he didn’t say anything. he
\nclosed my apartment door, and leaned back on it. and never taking his eyes
\noff of mine, he grabbed his cock and… <\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
speaking of note: pic not related to SDF (there’s not even any washers or dryers). h e y ! had another of those spontaneous daylight (sort of) fantasies — at night they’re called nightmares (or wet dreams, if you’re lucky). it went: … Continue reading
\nh e y ! , check out hey
\nmercedes<\/a> (their cool front pictured above). of course they have a blog<\/a>! <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
![<\/p>\n<\/a>note: pic not<\/u> related to SDF (there’s not even any washers or dryers).<\/div>\nh e y ! had another of those spontaneous daylight (sort of) fantasies\n— at night they’re called nightmares (or wet dreams, if you’re lucky). it\nwent: i was doing laundry, met a guy there who i’d probably met there before\nduring my anti-social depressive state (recently ended, i hope). i said\nhi, rattled on and on about my love of snow (we have fifteen new inches here in\nWorcester), and i was generally just nauseatingly friendly. he was, in my\nspontaneous daylight fantasy (SDF), living in with the single mom and her two\nlittle girls upstairs from the laundry room. as he left with a basket-heap\nof clean laundry he said something about buying some other kind of white\nstuff. he wanted to sell me drugs. \n<\/p>\ni said, “what?” knowing exactly what he had said. he replied, “nothin,”\nand he darted out the door. feeling like that had just made me appear like\na prude who was temporarily in the middle of a friendly-talkative-manic phase, i\nwent outside after him. ” \nh e y ! ” i yelled. he stopped — this was a\ngood thing. he could have ignored me, abandoning our encounter as just\nanother wasted few moments of human interaction. he certainly could have\nmisinterpretered anger in my voice when i yelled ‘hey!’ — imprecise vocal\nmodulations are the way with us manics, and i was a bit loud. but maybe it\nwas my frustration because another social effort (which are rare as gold in\nthese parts — at least for my part) was wasted because i was mistaken, again,\nfor something i am not, or at least for something i don’t want to be. \n<\/p>\nhe probably thought i wanted to rat him out, or fuck with his head, or\nthreaten his apartment situation just because — oh, who knows why, just because\nonce-upon-a-bad-time-reagan told us it was o.k. to hate certain people for\ncertain reasons. but he (my laundry encounter) stopped anyway and waited\nto hear me. i look for that; people who still hold out for the potential\nof the unknown in spite of their fear of the known. it felt like kindness,\nand as he stood there looking at me, his eyes were clear as innocence. \n<\/p>\nanyway, (this is going on forever) i didn’t want to take the easy way out,\nand stay with my laundry while he brought his home, and let it end without at\nleast an effort to be clear, to understand and be understood. “maybe i do\nand maybe i don’t want some,” i said to him. <\/p>\n“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” he started to say before i got the\nfirst ‘maybe’ out. i forged on, tolerating his understandably defensive\nreaction, hoping i did actually understand, hoping i was not acting\nirrationally. i’ve done that<\/b> before…<\/p>\n“i know a lot of people who have used lots of drugs in the past, some of my\nfriends still use drugs, occasionally. i like them all, a lot. i\nmight even consider buying some weed from you in the future, who knows, but\nright now i just don’t want there to be any misunderstanding; i don’t have any\nproblem with that. it was nice talkin to ya, i’ll see ya round.” \n<\/p>\ni turned back to the laundry room, half expecting him to roll his eyes and\ndismiss me with a disconcerted sneer. i left him just standing there,\nholding his laundry. ‘i tried’ i thought with resignation, as i descended\nthe few little steps back down to the basement laundry room door. when the\ndoor didn’t close behind me, i looked, and there he was. <\/p>\nhe sat on top of one of the dryers, and we talked until my laundry was all\ndry. it didn’t seem to take long at all. over weeks we got to know\neach other, he would stop by for coffee. he’d smoke, i’d pass. \nusually. one day he walked in, i said hi, he didn’t say anything. he\nclosed my apartment door, and leaned back on it. and never taking his eyes\noff of mine, he grabbed his cock and… <\/p>\n– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –\n– – – – – – – – – – – –<\/div>\n<\/p>\nspeaking of \nh e y ! , check out hey\nmercedes<\/a> (their cool front pictured above). of course they have a blog<\/a>! <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"note: pic not related to SDF (there’s not even any washers or dryers). h e y ! had another of those spontaneous daylight (sort of) fantasies — at night they’re called nightmares (or wet dreams, if you’re lucky). it went: … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[93],"class_list":["post-47","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","tag-worcester"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/burgwinkel.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/47","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/burgwinkel.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/burgwinkel.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/burgwinkel.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/burgwinkel.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=47"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/burgwinkel.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/47\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/burgwinkel.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=47"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/burgwinkel.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=47"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/burgwinkel.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=47"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}](\"opWin('http:\/\/burgwinkel.com\/img\/imgPopup.htm?i=heymercedes-nanna.jpg&w=0896&h=0592','imgPopupWin','toolbar=no,menubar=no,status=no,left=5,top=0,width='+(screen.availWidth-20)+',height='+(screen.availHeight-30)+',scrollbars=yes,resizable=yes');\"){kind=link}