The Secret Diary of Janey Jones

[sweepthefloor]

The typing was good before instant ruin. It really made sense to me. I had to delete because it is not fresh anymore. A sick man creamed in my memory inbox and dirtied my days innocence.

 

[LittleSparks]

It's no use letting good typing get so easily ruined. You can type the sick man good and way too!

 

[sweepthefloor]

It's no use letting good typing get so easily ruined. You can type the sick man good and way too!

I would rather look at a blank page sometimes and imagine what I would type.

 

[sweepthefloor]

This is how it ends: I know we had plans to have lunch today, but I am suffering from this horrible hangnail and I can't even think about going outside.

He thinks I am joking till he realizes I am not joking.

 

[sweepthefloor]

We all have front pockets.

 

[sweepthefloor]

If the face doesn’t get washed before bedtime the black mascara smudge eyes are memories past that you should have wiped away the night before. The soap and water is easier than this.

They keep telling you that the monsters under the bed aren’t real. The monsters exist, and the sad part is that you believed them when they told you they weren’t real. They lied and now trust is the bigger issue. You don’t believe anyone, or you believe everyone because that small space in time with the false security feels so freaking good you don’t care if it is not true.

There is old film reeling on my eyes. It’s the mascara. It sounds like a projector and looks like ink blots on white cards. What do you see in this picture? There is no sense in any of this. I can’t see, but I would like to thank the academy.

The sugar bowl has been empty for days. I forgot. He said it is no big deal because we will survive without sugar in our coffee. So we live with what truly matters—we have the coffee in our full cup.

I told a cab driver my secrets. He didn’t understand with the language barrier but I felt better. I cried and then he wanted to see my tits. I figured that was a small price to pay for the therapeutic session so I lifted up my shirt. He smiled and I laughed. It was all very funny.

 

[sweepthefloor]

I packed up my emotional belongings in the middle of the night. I opened the small friend train travel case and found that it was empty. He forgot about me. I have nothing to offer except sad stories and tears. I am back on the road and the street lights are out again. My thumbs up and I am hitchhiking my way through the madness.

 

[sweepthefloor]

Remember when we used to hike to the mall and steal all the penny wishes out of the fountain well because we didn't have any wishes of our own?

 

[sweepthefloor]

Like rust water through the kitchen pipe—these are the days of our lives. There was dirty soap water at my feet. I tried to reconnect the pipe and it broke apart in my hand.

The fast guy came over with a plastic piece and I watched him for a short time. I didn’t want to ruin his hero moment.

I laid on the couch and started to fall sleepy: the job is hard, the pipes are bust, and the family is crazy. When he told me he was going back to the store for another pipe. I told him to lie on my back because it hurt.

And so I laid there, and he squirmed on my back like a fish out of water flopping around. I thought he would pull my pants down but he didn’t, so he suffered in his jeans.

We made out. He got on my side and I closed my eyes. He kissed my face. He grabbed my ass. I told him to beat it and slap it. He tried and I told him to do it harder, don’t be afraid. Maybe I should have pulled my pants down but I didn’t. He tried to slap me. I opened my eyes and said: I want you to beat my ass red with your hand. He said: I don’t want to hurt you or my hand. I said: I have a hairbrush. And he wouldn’t do it so I gave up.

It was restless and jerky but passionate at the same time. He was making love to me with our clothes on. I opened my eyes and said: It’s not going to work out if you can’t hurt me. He doesn’t care what I want so he just covered my mouth with his mouth again. I thought he was going to get his dick in me through his jeans and through my thin scrub pants.

We made out. He took off his clothes. He didn’t undress me and I didn’t undress myself so he kept rubbing all over me with my clothes on. The tension was tight and I started pinching him. I opened my eyes, and my eyes found his eyes and he said: You are hurting me. I stopped pinching him.

 

[sweepthefloor]

"You hurt me or I will hurt you."

 

[sweepthefloor]

His fuck is a frank flounder and my face is a sea for his salt love.

His dick is a dempsey and my mouth is a fish bowl for his jack.

 

[Curious_in_Cali]

Remember when we used to hike to the mall and steal all the penny wishes out of the fountain well because we didn't have any wishes of our own?

*hug~sigh*

 

[sweepthefloor]

*hug~sigh*

it gets us through the night.

 

[Curious_in_Cali]

it gets us through the night.

You really do make the loveliest flashlight.

You guide us through the night, then in the morning we can watch cartoons and I'll make us blueberry pancakes.

 

[TalkToMeInSB]

Do it.

Quit your job!

Not sure how I got here (maybe chasing Curious_in_Cali's ruby shoes?), whatever....

This thread is amazing... I've only gotten through the first couple of pages but I'm hooked....

Gonna read the rest slow... savor all your words....

Really.... This shit could be a book!

 

[JamieJ424]

Genius.

Like rust water through the kitchen pipe—these are the days of our lives. There was dirty soap water at my feet. I tried to reconnect the pipe and it broke apart in my hand.

The fast guy came over with a plastic piece and I watched him for a short time. I didn’t want to ruin his hero moment.

I laid on the couch and started to fall sleepy: the job is hard, the pipes are bust, and the family is crazy. When he told me he was going back to the store for another pipe. I told him to lie on my back because it hurt.

And so I laid there, and he squirmed on my back like a fish out of water flopping around. I thought he would pull my pants down but he didn’t, so he suffered in his jeans.

We made out. He got on my side and I closed my eyes. He kissed my face. He grabbed my ass. I told him to beat it and slap it. He tried and I told him to do it harder, don’t be afraid. Maybe I should have pulled my pants down but I didn’t. He tried to slap me. I opened my eyes and said: I want you to beat my ass red with your hand. He said: I don’t want to hurt you or my hand. I said: I have a hairbrush. And he wouldn’t do it so I gave up.

It was restless and jerky but passionate at the same time. He was making love to me with our clothes on. I opened my eyes and said: It’s not going to work out if you can’t hurt me. He doesn’t care what I want so he just covered my mouth with his mouth again. I thought he was going to get his dick in me through his jeans and through my thin scrub pants.

We made out. He took off his clothes. He didn’t undress me and I didn’t undress myself so he kept rubbing all over me with my clothes on. The tension was tight and I started pinching him. I opened my eyes, and my eyes found his eyes and he said: You are hurting me. I stopped pinching him.

 

[sweepthefloor]

You really do make the loveliest flashlight.

You guide us through the night, then in the morning we can watch cartoons and I'll make us blueberry pancakes.

You can make the pancakes, or we can just eat the newspaper and blueberries for breakfast. We can’t watch cartoons because in the middle of the night we turned the television into sculpture. We did this so we could see whatever we want to see on the cheap screen.


I like flashlights.

One night at 2am I got pulled over by the police on my way home from the workshop. I wasn’t working. I was doing dog duty for the weekend.

The policeman spoke into his microphone: Please turn on your interior dome light. I didn’t have an interior dome light but I knew if I reached to get the flashlight off the truck floor it would look like I was reaching for something else, so with my small voice I yelled out the window: I don’t have an interior dome light.

He finally came over to my truck. I asked him if I could get my interior dome light off the floor. I shined the heavy red MAG-LITE under my chin and smiled. He laughed, and then I went home.

I should have said to the officer: I am the interior dome light.

 

[sweepthefloor]

Quit your job!

Not sure how I got here (maybe chasing Curious_in_Cali's ruby shoes?), whatever....

This thread is amazing... I've only gotten through the first couple of pages but I'm hooked....

Gonna read the rest slow... savor all your words....

Really.... This shit could be a book!

I do love those curious red shoes too. I would follow those steps all over the city just to try them on for myself. I want to put taps on them and find hard wood to shuffle-ball-change, shuffle-hop- step.

The words are in a slow cooker. I love salt and butter. You can eat the whole crock because I will just keep adding more letter meats.

My day job is some kind of a disguise. It’s a costume party every shift. I look at myself in the mirror before working and wonder: Who is that girl in the mirror? Oh, this is what I do, and I am very good at it.

I could write, but where is the storyboard? I don’t know how. If I had a true lover I would write only for my lover. And that is a burden no lover likes.

I would quit my job and write him a best seller in between belt beatings for not writing at all.

 

[sweepthefloor]

Genius.

thank you Jamie.

 

[sweepthefloor]

Imagine: My lover left me free to type as I like. I typed nothing and that didn’t please anyone at all. So, he took off his belt and beat me with it because I didn’t do my job.

Do you think I would cry? I can’t be sure. I can be angry.

And the next day I wrote fifty-five pages.

The truth is I don’t have the discipline to write. I am lazy.

 

[sweepthefloor]

There is an army in his balls and they are planning a coup. The officer is a dick head leading the soldiers to battle in the wrong hole. They are starting to get angry.

 

[sweepthefloor]

I can’t go around sucking seeds, pretending that love doesn’t grow on dick trees with fruity balls.

I put his dick in my mouth and he put his heart in my hole.

Last night the dream was about my eyebrows. I stopped waxing them. I think somehow this means I need to take better care of myself. There is no paint on the nails. I don’t feel like going to the salon. I just don’t feel like talking. And I don’t think my body can handle the anxiety of having my feet touched.

 

[sweepthefloor]

He knows I give lovingly good head jobs, but he doesn’t know anything else about me.

He wants to know how I am doing, so I say alright, and he asks, just alright?

I don’t have the answers. I might say: No, I am not even alright. I am not even close to alright, so just take off your pants and don’t ask me any more questions.

My madness is his amusement park, and my head is the best ride.

 

[sweepthefloor]

I skipped in through back door of that bar I grew up in. I took my place next to the old-timer man and ordered vodka with dilute juice. The old man and the tender were shocked. I can’t gain any weight. I have a dress fitted that won’t tolerate an extra fat cell.

He asked me what I have been doing. I told him I want to write a story but I can’t figure out what the story is about.

He said: You are the story. And then I replied: I don’t know where to start.

He told me: You are fourteen years old sitting in the back of a bus with the pipers. The hair is a mess, the face is pale, the lips are red, and the eyes are covered with black chalk. Your image reads a fuck you novel.

I asked: So, I start the story with a fuck you? Growing up on the kilt hem? My eyes are closed, we are tapping toes, and just where is that Highland Laddie?

Three men walk into the bar. They are imposters. They order pints and talk about being authentic in a place like this. The men think it is cool, but there is nothing cool about being a drunk. I am looking at the regulars.

The men start talking about the neighborhood nannies. They truly are in the wrong neighborhood.

Imposter A: Chuck’s nanny is back and looking good. My wife asked me if I saw her outfit the other day when she was walking the dog. I told her: I don’t know who you are talking about.

All the imposters started laughing. That is their best pathetic joke. I turned to the old timer and said: I know the nature of man.

The tender filled my cup for free. I didn’t want it but I couldn’t be rude, it is not every day I make a surprise visit. I sucked it up with a small straw on the quick side.

They invaded my shelter. I had to leave.

Imposter A: I hope we didn’t scare you away!

I decided that punching him in the face was a bad idea even though it has probably been a while since the place has had a good fight. It just wouldn’t be right if the only girl in the place started it. I said: There’s not much that scares me. And the old timer said: That is true.

And I left.

 

[sweepthefloor]

The excessive text messaging me is like him being a dog sniffing my ass. He can’t stop it. We went to his apartment and it was a mess. I told him: You are a slob.

He wanted to put me in his bed, and I said: I am not contracting with you for intercourse. I put my hand on his hard-on and realized that his dick was large and wide, and that sucking it would be work for me. I am lazy.

I figured if I start liking him I can buy one of those used yellow wedding dresses from the thrift store for ten dollars. He can tie me up in the tulle. I will pretend to be a virgin cause a dick like that will hurt me, and I will cry.

I was falling asleep. I thought about the danger of leaving a raging erection unattended but my sleepy hands couldn’t even stroke it out. I thought: If he tries to rape me I will deal with that later.

I wanted him to sleep in his bed while I slept on the couch. He figured I would escape in the middle of the night. He wasn’t going to let that happen. He slept in the chair like a watchdog.

I opened my eyes and he came to my breast. I didn’t stop him. He put my nipple in his mouth and started eating and tugging on me while shaking his head back and forth.

I realized: I am a dog toy and my heart is the resistance that makes dogs wild. If I detached my breast we could have a game of fetch.

He said: I want you to trust me. There was no coffee in the house. I asked him: How do you live?

And then I left him to jerk himself off.