The Secret Diary of Janey Jones

[sweepthefloor]

He did, and he hated himself for it. In later writings he always blamed himself, always expressed deep feelings for her. In "A Moveable Feast" he puts her on quite a pedastal. They're both tragic figures in their way.

I want to read this book tomorrow. I am afraid.

 

[sweepthefloor]

He is a regular guy, says my friend like fit jeans. My mind can’t help whisper: this is a set up, it is always a set up, what are they saying about me? I ask if he is a cracked hot pot, because my lunar pull brings all the nuts to the yard.

He sure is easy to talk too. I wonder what Mr. Jeans is up to, and what exactly has he revealed to this stranger about me. It is a struggle to keep the freak flag at half-mast. Once you let one lover on the ship it seems easier and easier to let the next one on.

Mr. Jeans wants me to have just have a good time and he did just remove the busted up lovers swing from my yard for me. Just have good times: I want to be loved, beaten, reduced to tears, and then loved all over again. Is that a good time, Mr. Jeans? Can I suck it on the first date, hm? My Mr. Jeans is going to rip his hair out, and all I can do is laugh because how can I take anything seriously?

He doesn’t care what I do as long as I don’t make contact with the last nut job I cracked. Who coincidentally started calling me again last night:

Cracked Nut: You need psych meds you crazy fucking bitch! You are a fucking freak!
Me: Why are you calling me then, hm? <hysterical laughter>
Cracked Nut: You think it is funny!
Me: Yes I do, and it turns me on the way you yell at me like that. <hysterical laughter>
Cracked Nut: You make me want to puke!
Me: I really don’t want to see you again, so don’t tempt me with your mean and nasty talk.
Cracked Nut: You think I am going to sit around and be your secret boyfriend? I have dignity!
Me: Well, my Father doesn’t like you and I prefer the word- lover.
Cracked Nut: Grow the fuck up!
Me: Not for you.

<click>

I once lived next to this huge old man. He said to me: You are gonna get yourself in trouble one-day girl.

And maybe the regular guy is not so regular, and I whisper to myself: I will find out.
I will find out soon. I am ditching the wild nurse and the cracked nut that slapped me half-hearted, for the regular arborist. I will not make his fork drop on the first date, and I will stuff it.

I aim to be pleasant, and easy on the eyes. That is the plan. I can’t wait till he calls me tonight and chats my ear off about topping trees. I won’t even say anything whack. Maybe he will top my tree.

 

[sweepthefloor]

It is not easy being Geisha but the role is hard to give up. Cheerleading is a breeze, and the wind is blowing his back on.

 

[sweepthefloor]

Oh old lover with the brown curly locks!
Help me carry this dirty red couch to the curb.

Oh! Girl! You used to be so strong in that painted hot pink wrecker, the fastest lockout on the chop block shop.

Shut it Ant.

Shut what? You'd be knocked up with my sixth if you didn't run off and get smarty. I shoulda beat your ass for what you did to me.

My mind is whispering: I think you are right about that.

You wanna get under the truck and handle the tran jack with me for old times sake?

My mind is whispering: ahahahahahahahahahaahahaha. No!

 

[JamieJ424]

Love it!

Oh old lover with the brown curly locks!
Help me carry this dirty red couch to the curb.

Oh! Girl! You used to be so strong in that painted hot pink wrecker, the fastest lockout on the chop block shop.

Shut it Ant.

Shut what? You'd be knocked up with my sixth if you didn't run off and get smarty. I shoulda beat your ass for what you did to me.

My mind is whispering: I think you are right about that.

You wanna get under the truck and handle the tran jack with me for old times sake?

My mind is whispering: ahahahahahahahahahaahahaha. No!

 

[sweepthefloor]

Love it!

Thank you Jamie.

 

[Sir_Winston54]

I've been waiting for the next entry(ies) in TSDJJ.

 

[Chiara_searches]

Thank you Jamie. The story of Hadley + Ernest actually wrecked me. He left her for Pauline. I thought I would never read another story again. I was determined to wake up in the morning and burn every book in the house. I worked my mind into hysterics. Then I put myself to bed.

He did, and he hated himself for it. In later writings he always blamed himself, always expressed deep feelings for her. In "A Moveable Feast" he puts her on quite a pedastal. They're both tragic figures in their way.

I want to read this book tomorrow. I am afraid.

There's a new book out about Hadley and Ernest called The Paris Wife by Paula McLain. The review I read said it tells the story largely from Hadley's point of view and that it was a good read.

 

[sweepthefloor]

I've been waiting for the next entry(ies) in TSDJJ.

You won't have to wait long. I have a huge pot of alphabet soup. I will serve it to you.

There's a new book out about Hadley and Ernest called The Paris Wife by Paula McLain. The review I read said it tells the story largely from Hadley's point of view and that it was a good read.

Yes! I read the Paris Wife by Paula McLain. It was a good easy read, and it reduced me to tears.

 

[sweepthefloor]

We have become tender friends. It is spaghetti for lunch and I am holding onto the last noodle in my wish box for this lover. I know he doesn’t have the ability to step into the place of the imaginary lover that I blow in my dream. Any man can kink, but what man can step into the one we feed to our minds? It is hardly fair at all. It is almost cruel.

The job is hard; his skin is softer than my own. I don’t know what we are doing together and he is shedding tears. I couldn’t hold the wish for a second longer. I slurped up my noodles and wiped the sauce off my mouth.

I pulled out my black magic hat and placed it on my head, and with a wink of my wet eye without batting a lash, I said: You are gonna be alright. My tone startled me as I slipped on my mental submissive floor into a stance that readies to carry a man to bed on my back, and take over. He was hysterical. I stood up with a firm arm and lead the man to the bed, I then said: You are going to be the small spoon and I am going to be the big spoon, now lay down. My mind whispers: That is not request that is command as I look to the bed so I don't have to say it again.

My mind is whispering: No, I don't like this one bit, but I am not cruel and it is either this or the crisis center son.

He crawled into bed on his hands and knees, and he appeared as a cat with a curled dorsal back. I counted fake stars on the wall looking over his shoulder as he sobbed between my: shh, shh, shh rock. The harder he cried the harder I held, and when the pain eased, my embrace did not.

I didn’t have to say talk; I knew that I would soon know the secrets of this sobbing:

She crushed my heart and destroyed my insides. She took over my life. She paid all my bills with my money. She has total control of my finances; all my statements go to her inbox. I can’t even pay my bills. This has been going on for two years. She will only see me once a week, and she is married. My number is blocked to her phone and I have sat around waiting for her to call me and tell me what to do every night. She is my best friend and my lover, and she found out I have been talking with other women, so she left me two months ago. I need her. She wants me to confess and be punished for talking to other woman. Is this normal? I have no idea what happened to me? I can’t believe I am telling someone about this. I can’t feel my arms. What is wrong with me? You think I am weak and won’t talk to me anymore. I liked it, I just wanted more. I was lonely. Do I need a psych consult? I am sick. I think there is a tumor on my pancreas. Can you palpate a mass? You know what that means.

My response is always appropriate to the situation. I wear a black magic hat and whisper: hold on, hold tight, she will come back to you. In the interim, you will pay your bills and eat small meals. I know who you are, although you have fooled everyone at the hospital with your reputation. One day you will know, and be ok with it, or you will find another way, and that is for you and your lover to figure out. Right now it is time to shhhhh.
---------------

We interrupt this shhhh for: She is never going to come back. Waaaa! Waaaaa!

And so I get on top and put my hand over his mouth to shut him up. He struggles. I whisper in his ear: Stop it. He goes limp only to struggle again. I put my weight on and whisper in his ear: I said stop it; you didn’t hear me the first time? He liked it.

My mind is whispering: You are not getting a blowjob. I know what you need. How did I get here? Oh! The gig is up.

 

[sweepthefloor]

The episode really drained me even though there was nothing sexual about it. It was a clinical decision and I made it quick in the moment. That was me taking control for the well being of another, for a brief period of time. It is not sustainable.

If my level of risk over the last six months were a lab value, it would be a panic high. I won’t look for the causation because it doesn’t matter in the acute setting. That is like telling a smoker with active respiratory distress on the brink of intubation and mechanical ventilation: You shouldn’t be smoking! Treat first, educate when stable.

It is acute on chronic this desire. I can’t be the patient if there is no doctor and I can’t keep infecting myself with my imagination. The good news is: there might not be a doctor, but I already know the protocols. The ward of my mind will be safe till he shows up for work.

 

[JamieJ424]

These last two posts...great stuff. Excellent.

 

[sweepthefloor]

These last two posts...great stuff. Excellent.

Thank you for positively stroking my ego. The lesson I learned from that experience is that you can't judge a book by it's reputation. I also realized that I am highly trained in assessing the needs of others and reacting quickly. I am very afraid.

 

[sweepthefloor]

On scary movie night I get to pick! I choose: I Spit on Your Grave. I haven’t seen it, but it is on my list. He has it, so we watch it.
I sit on the edge of the couch next to him. :blank stare: clutching a pillow, as if I have never seen a movie before in my life.

My mind whispers: He keeps looking at me! Why is he squirming around in his spot? Is he going to put is arm around me? How many movie nights are we going to have before he tries to get my pants off? I have to stop blushing.

I am stiff as a board.

He whispers: Do you want me to shut this off?
I whisper: No.

:blank:

Another walk to my front door with a kiss on my cheek, and a hug that reveals a huge boner!

My mind whispers: All you gotta do is put your hands on my shoulders and push down a little bit. I will understand!

He says: Did you really like that movie? (He doesn’t want me to like it.)
I reply: You make the best popcorn. Good night.

I will ruin it with rape scenes.

 

[Sir_Winston54]

Good to see Janey wander back in. She's been missed.

 

[jenniferbaby]

On scary movie night I get to pick! I choose: I Spit on Your Grave. I haven’t seen it, but it is on my list. He has it, so we watch it.

I looked this movie up, it looks harsh. But he got a boner from it--good sign, right?

 

[sweepthefloor]

Good to see Janey wander back in. She's been missed.

Sometimes I wander around in the forest. If I turn around and don't see any wild animals chasing me, I go back home.

 

[sweepthefloor]

I looked this movie up, it looks harsh. But he got a boner from it--good sign, right?

I don't think he had a boner during the movie. I think he might have been uncomfortable.

 

[jenniferbaby]

I don't think he had a boner during the movie. I think he might have been uncomfortable.

Ah, I get it now. He wasn't squirming in his spot out of arousal.

Well, a boner of any kind is good, especially during an embrace.

 

[sweepthefloor]

Ah, I get it now. He wasn't squirming in his spot out of arousal.

Well, a boner of any kind is good, especially during an embrace.

How about a wet boner in tight white underwear? It is really cute.

 

[sweepthefloor]

I want to watch a scary movie, but my movie partner is out of sorts with booze. He is awfully randy and we end up in bed. He pulls all my clothes off and I see this is going to be messy. He buries his face in between my legs and my knee jerk reaction wants him to stop. I try to push him away; resistance is futile, this will be a slobber fest. He is going to puke spit all over me and I can’t stop him. He says: I am going to fuck you with my tongue. It is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard and I close my eyes so that I don’t start giggling like a maniac. I realize I have two options: get dressed and run home, or fake it out. I decide to fake it out, I am a pretty good actress and confident I can finish him quick.

Quick is not on his agenda. He is drunk, all I really have to do is just lay here. My mind starts wondering. It is like watching television inside my own mind. I am flipping through the channels from work, to my house, memories and then I get back to the live porn show in the bed before he notices that I don’t even feel a thing. I go: Oh! Every two minutes. I am not doing a good job but he doesn’t care. He’s wasted and happy licking me like a dog. He really gets into it and I can’t understand a thing he is moaning with a mouth full of muff. I really need a manicure. I think I will ask him for the money to get my nails done tomorrow. I don’t need his money, but it will make him feel good.

I go: Oh! And shut the television in my mind off and turn on the radio. My hips gyrate clockwise to: Layla, you got me on my knees. I go: Oh! I hope he doesn't start begging please! The Layla part gets two full rotations. I switch the song in my mind to: After midnight, we gonna let it all hang out, and I shimmy to that rhythm. I don’t know why Eric Clapton is playing in my head.

I go: Oh! And he is never going to stop. I wish he would come up for air so that I can wiggle my may down and finish him off with my mouth real quick. He doesn’t and I feel some eyes upon me. I go: Oh! And look over to my right. A big fat cat is staring at me without amusement at the head of the bed. I say to the cat inside my mind: Hello cat, fancy meeting you here. No, I don’t know what is going on either. My deepest apologies for keeping you awake. Am I in your usual spot? The cat doesn’t respond. I want to get on my hands and knees and bark like a dog. That would make me appear insane and who will I watch movies with if I traumatize the poor kitty? I tell the fat cat: Ok. You wanna see the show too. I get it. No big deal. Fine. I go: Oh!

I go: Oh! And it goes on forever. I am watching the clock. I am going to clock him out as soon as he gives me the chance. I wonder: does he really like doing this? He has been down there too long for me to think he is just trying to be courteous, as if he has to do this, to get that in return. When he finally comes up and puts his wet face in my neck, my hand finds his manhood trapped in his tighty whiteys and I feel a slippery wet raging boner. I go: Oh! Oh great! The silky feel of that wet in his man panties means he creamed the first round in his pants, and his stuff is ready for more! I look at him. The underwear are cute. I feel a soft spot in my heart. He looks innocent and sweet. He is still wearing his white tee shirt, and as we lay on our sides I use it to dry myself off. I wonder what I smell like, probably like his slobbering mouth. I stop thinking about it.

I go: Oh! And I am going to suck him. It is my turn! Yaay! His stuff is thick but it fits perfectly in my mouth. It is hard for me to be in love after what he just did to me, but I try and forget about it. He is wild and apparently doesn’t like being on his back. I end up on my side and he is gently grinding himself into me. I like it and just when it feels like he will come into my throat, he stops cold and withdrawals himself from my orifice. I go: Oh! No! He still wants to lick me? He pulls me onto his belly, this fucking sixty niner what the fucker! I have had enough of this shit!

I go: Oh! I can’t suck it like this but I try. I just can’t concentrate! He is licking me, and tapping my ass and Oh! His finger slips into my asshole! Oh! It hurts! Now I really can’t suck it because when I move my head up and down I feel his finger slip deeper into my ass! I really am in a pickle.

I go: Oh! And I slide off of him and put myself in childs pose position. My mind is whispering: Just come on my ass. He mounts me like an animal and is about to stick it inside me. I go: Oh! Where is the condom? There is no condom. This just keeps getting better and better! I go: Oh! I am going to sleep now. Good night.

 

[sweepthefloor]

I bet the look on my face while I cut the grass is the same look when I am flat on my back getting impaled during sex. The good part about sex is I can hide my face in his neck, cutting the grass everyone can see how ridiculous I look.
--

I was getting comfortable with the idea of him as my scary movie partner. He works hard and often ends up at this Polish bar a few nights a week after work. Never bothered me any, except for the lick fest episode. He never tried anything like that sober.

Last night, I was half asleep when he called me. His speech was slurry and he kept calling me a jerk. He never talked to me like that before. He was talking on the phone and driving drunk at the same time. I stayed on the phone till he parked his car and then I ended the conversation. I don’t really care what he does when I am not around. I don’t have to live with it.

This morning he text: Sorry, I don’t know what I said last night. I am back on the wagon.

My mind is whispering: You have just made yourself untrustworthy. If you can’t control yourself, you will never be able to control me.

And yeah, I can give a man a break but I text: Drunk driving is not acceptable.
He replied: I know it is wrong and won’t call you again when I do it, but you say it is unacceptable then don’t accept it! I don’t need another boss!

For a few minutes I tried to back out of my bottom line, rationalizing that it is not about drinking, but about the drinking and driving. He was still hung up on the: You talk like you are the boss of me. Communication failure or not, it is still not acceptable to me. It is just not something I can deal with. I guess we all have our limits. I gave up quick and ran out easy: see jane run.

The last time I saw him he violated my privacy with his tongue. When it was over he snuggled my back and whispered with his slobbering wet mouth: I love you. I really do love you. I don’t respond to cheap drunk sentimental lies. My spinal cord felt like a real live wire. He drooled on me again as if I didn’t hear him the first time: I love you. You know that? It sounded kind of good the second time, so I forgave him for licking me, and I nuzzled my ass into his groin so he would know that I heard him. Then we fell asleep in the mess of the bed as he snorkeled snoring in my ear, and figured it was all very disgusting.

I am glad I didn’t let him shank me that night.

 

[sweepthefloor]

To compensate for my recent love lab failure and possibly find a new specimen, I signed up for a free online dating site. The first person that casually messaged me with the usually 'getting to know you' questions got this as a reply:

I am well. Today I will mow a huge cock crop circle in my backyard. Will you place my wet thong in my mouth and then watch me cut the grass? Yes, I like long walks on the beach, meaningless conversation about the weather and blood red roses.

 

[sweepthefloor]

I need a leash! I have no use for a vibrator. I wake up vibrating myself. It is just under the skin. It is a slow constant buzzing. It keeps my cheeks pink. I don’t know whether it hurts or feels good. There is no way to dull it so I embrace it. There is no name for this condition that I am aware of. I call it many things: the ding ding ding, or infectious happy mania. It is infectious because it spreads to everyone around me. They suck it up like crack on a pipe and want more. This happened at work. I used to think that everyone liked me and wanted to work on my shifts because I am a stellar nurse. I am a great nurse most times, but that isn’t it. It is the energy they are after, and the syntax, and the yoga in the medication room. It is the famous last words: Let’s rock it out! At 1700 hours when we are all tired.

I go downtown and I get lots of smiles. The man at the desk likes my nail polish; it matches my blue rain bonnet perfectly. I smile my crooked toothed smile and I sure am glad I ripped the braces off my teeth when I was thirteen, with a pair of pliers. There is something about perfectly straight teeth that creeps me out.

The lady in line behind me likes my skirt, she tells me. I like it too. It was cheap. It is paneled and gathered and tight on my thighs. I walk with a straight back in my clicky sandals and imagine I have a stick in my ass crack. A stick with bark. When I leave the man walking behind me is not looking at my ass. I would feel it on my back if he were. He is talking on his cell phone. I walk slower out the door. I stop abruptly on purpose so he slams into me. I don’t have a cock but if I did I would have creamed my pants. My brain creamed.

Back in the parking lot I get stuck. I was trapped in a no way out zone. I am turning my car around in the jammed up lot when the attendant comes over and says: This is for handicapped parking only Miss. I am brushing my teeth in the mirror with my wisp as I back up to get out and I roll the window down and say: Hello. It seems I can’t find my way out. Maybe if I wasn’t brushing my teeth and driving at the same time I wouldn’t be in this predicament. I just give my wide-eyed smile and he helps me out, waving in my mirror to let me know I have more room. That is kind of hot. What a nice man. I would like to blow him. When it is time to pay, I can’t find my ticket. I begin ripping my car apart.

I finally escape and there is the construction site! I know there are ironworkers in there. I have the right enough mind at this time to pull my little red car into that lot, walk into the framed building and say: This is my rain hat. If you are not married and would like a blowjob, please put your phone number in the hat. I will pick one number and call you tonight! I am at the red light and I hear some tink tink tink hammer noise and drive away. I am reckless. I better get home to my cage as soon as possible.

At the next red light I look to my left and see a little green pest control truck. A bug killer. He has a tattoo on his neck and some ugly cork in his ear for an earring. Those chemicals are probably not good for the body. I wouldn’t want to swallow his seed. Anyway he is looking at me, so I blow him a kiss and lick my lips in the most disgusting way. Then I cut him off at the next light hoping he crashes into my car. He doesn’t.

Then I find myself behind the animal control truck. What a fucking asshole. I know that man. He was the only white man on the city block where the shop was, and he was also the only man I was afraid of. He was a drunk and probably has a small penis. I used to go to the shop late at night on the weekends to take the dogs out to poop. One Saturday night he is on his porch, he sees me and comes over to the door. I wouldn’t let him inside and he became belligerent. The dogs were going wild as if they can smell his drunken dangerous intentions. He started yelling from the corner: What the fuck is wrong with you? You treat those dogs better than you treat humans! I just want to talk to you! It went on, and I was really getting pissed. I didn’t want to call the cops on the man, I just wanted to get in my truck and go home. I couldn’t leave because he was out there. I couldn’t stay cause the rats would get me in my sleep. Finally I decided to take one of the dogs home with me, so I could get to my truck without him getting to me. It worked out perfectly. I could barely keep a handle on my dog going buck wild snarling, barking and lunging towards him. Months later he apologized to me. Said he was an alcoholic and ‘back on the wagon.’

I made it home safely. Safe in my box.

 

[sweepthefloor]

...........