One nice thing about rarely getting laid is the only person disappointed when I get naked is myself
The Dune Shacks of Peaked Bars Historic District.
From The Provincetown Design Group:
Nestled into the ever-shifting shapes of the Province Lands dunes, they are primitive in structure, but surrounded by a rare sort of richness – the mesmerizing environment of the ever-changing dunes, great undulations of sand that are constantly swept by the ocean’s winds into new shapes and that have long been a place of withdrawal for artists, eccentrics, writers and Cape residents.
Since the mid 1990s, area non-profits have offered solitude in the dunes to writers, artists, scientists, historians, musicians, and dancers through summer and fall shack residency programs.
Photos by Chris Seufert, Paul Neumann, Debra Bacon, and Stephanie Foster.
I wish I was an artist, eccentric, writer, or a resident of Cape Cod…
I wish this world hadn’t been made for confident people, that the weak of spirit and mind could somehow succeed. It seems highly unlikely that us folks could survive, as we’re not often heroic in our ambitions. When getting through the day wipes one’s energy, there’s little chance of them finding solace in the little things, much less achieving the lofty goals set by others’ examples. Regardless of whether or not these achievements were put up as an example for us, we often measure ourselves against them, in hopes that they’re not as impossible as they seem. More often than not, one notices an air of confidence in even the simplest of tasks that they’re simply not capable of summoning on a short notice. In time, confidence can be raised to sufficient levels to achieve something above mediocrity, but almost without fail, setbacks rear their heads with alarming speed and intensity. It is in these times of darkness, one tends to try and look for some light in their situation, often finding it in the strangest of places. If only it were that easy…
Fuck today. Fuck black ice, fuck snow, fuck Colorado, fuck court dates, fuck my subconscious, fuck my sex drive, fuck my reactions, fuck everything.
I’ve probably skated 20-25 miles in the past two days. I’m feeling so much goddamn better than I was two days ago. I just need to figure out how to make my life revolve around this feeling right here.
If I can see The Wizard of OZ in 3D why can’t I see some damn 3D dick?
I got your 3D dick right here
I’m so painfully tired of my life right now. All it has become is go to work, come home, passive-agressively argue with my mom, go to bed, repeat. Getting out the past two weekends has been nice, but I haven’t been able to get rid of any of this excess tension in my mind. Nothing really sounds fun anymore. Not drinking, not dancing at shows, not even sex. I’m really just hoping I die soon so I don’t have to live the next 50 years like this.
I just want someone (a beautiful woman) to come hang out and massage my back/penis. Is that too much to ask for?
I’m scared that I’m never going to find someone who loves the Barenaked Ladies as much as I do.