Uptown Animus

She walks in grinning
Dressed in a pair of jeans, a t-shirt that reads 'Life's a metaphor then you die.', and a black leather jacket.
She holds up a fifth of Gray Goose and purrs
'I heard you got the shaft my man...'�
Maybe a little bit of Warsaw is just what I need right now.
I have known Jillian Warsaw since college, French Lit 101-when for her final exam she brought in her Fender Strat and recited Rimbaud's poem -My little lovelies, to the tune of the Sex Pistols -God save the queen.
'Let me guess Jules called you.'�
She smiles raising an eyebrow, a signature trademark
'Such is the duty of our Minister of Information.'�
'Carley went back to her ex.'�
'mmmhmm, isn't she fifty?'�
'56'� I sigh 'Carley just turned 33.'�
' Yikes...Carley had better axe the idea of an engagement ring and save up for a medic alert bracelet.'�
Warsaw pulls the cork from the ice frosted bottle.
I can see it now right in the middle of sex
'I went down, and I can't get back up.'�
I snatch the bottle from her and take a huge drag
'Why the fuck did she relentlessly pursue me only to freak herself out and leave?'�
Warsaw walks over to my stereo and puts on a Strokes CD
'Sign?'�
'Aquarius..'�
'Holy flightiness Batman.'� she says mockingly
'Look. the chick was obviously an unstable element. She couldn't handle being with a real woman so she flaked out and went running back into the arms of another albeit pre-historic unstable element.'�
Warsaw pauses for effect as she lights a cigarette.
'I mean, your HOT! your smart, funny, talented, you have exquisite taste in friends..'�
She takes a drink
'You can do much better.. look your selling yourself short. You have all of the natural resources to be a player. I mean who needs this relationship shit anyway?'�
'yeah, I see you never burden yourself with it.'�
An almost reptilian smile slinks across Warsaw's face
'That's just the nature of my groove.'�
'There is too much candy in the candy store for this kitty-kitty to settle down.'� she says
'But I want more, something meaningful...you, my dear are the quintessential heartbreaker.'�
'Tis' better to be the heartbreaker than the heartbroken Kemosabie.'�
'Is that right..'� I say

'So sayeth the shepherd, so sayeth the flock.'�
I light a joint hoping something will get me out of this state.
'Love, my dumpling...'
she whispers
'is the only dirty four letter word.'�
The phone rings and my heart jumps hoping its Carley...caller ID confirms its not... I don't answer, it now sits there sardonically silent, a glossy black insect.
'Hey'� Warsaw says brightening up 'You want me to take her to a party...the gang loves Italian.'�



Into The Lions Den

My office overlooks the slate gray chaotic bustle of the business district. Waves of traffic both motorized and pedestrian circle the streets like well trained vermin. Its almost Pavlovian in its simplicity.
My 5:00 is named Leslie, Leslie is at this very moment doing what she does best...crying.
She cries about everything and everyone. I often wonder if I yelled 'Boo' at her, would she start bawling. It takes every fiber of my will to restrain myself from the experiment.
'My husband is always too busy for me'� she whines
' I don't understand why he needs time to himself. Personally I think he has too many outside interests...I just don't feel as though I am a priority.'�
Leslie has no interests at all besides her husband, and ER reruns.
Leslie McClure does not possess the mental fortitude to stand up for herself, she prefers to play the victim.
A.K.A- emotional martyr
A.K.A- Spineless
A.K.A- The type of person that (especially now after my liaison with Carley and the abysmal triad of codependency she tried to hook me into) really pisses me off.
I adjust my glasses and continue doodling on my notepad drawing circles. Circles are infinite geometric shapes, they have no beginning and they have no end. Just like my time with Leslie.
My Steuben glass wall clock ticks the seconds through puncturing the silence in rhythmic intervals.
I look up, and Leslie is staring at me blankly.
I have no idea what the hell she has been babbling about or the past five minutes.
I clear my throat trying to focus. My hands are shaking, so I put my pad down and stuff them into my lap.
'So...how does that make you feel?'� I say hoping that was a viable question.
'Well...'� she sniffles and then almost as if she were asking me Leslie says '...invisible?...'�
I flash her what I hope is an empathetic smile.
'mmm,'� I reply
Leslie slips another tissue out of the box that sits next to her on the table. Little white blobs of it litter the floor at her feet mocking me.
'Well, I think our time here is up.'� I say not ungratefully
'I think you need to...'�
bend over so I can shove that cuddly soft aloe infused but yet unscented box of Kleenex up your pathetic sniveling ass!
I cough, my throat feeling as though I had just swallowed a small and lively gerbil.
'I think...you need to develop some interests of your own...'�
I guide her to the door
'Have a nice day Leslie.'� I nod slowly at her
'I will see you next week.'�
She smiles, her red puffy face screwed into a mask of quiet desperation.
'Thank you Dr. Montgomery'� she says as she leaves.
I light a cigarette and close my eyes-my back pressed against the door.
Exeunt .



Generation Xcess


Julia 'Jules'� Hayes: twenty-seven, Cancer/Gemini cusp., a Dr. of Sociology at a nearby university. Jules is a self proclaimed Zen Nihilist. According to Jules, Zen Nihilism is the sudden and permanent flash of enlightenment that involves coming to terms with the complete denial of the existence of everything-including Zen Nihilism. Jules shapes the tender young malleable minds of our future.

'Are we going out tonight or not.'� Jules asks with mock exasperation from the other end of the phone. I am pacing around the house picking up pencils and putting them back down again drinking Courvosier. Morrissey is telling me through my speakers that pretty girls make graves. Jules slides over my silence like a pit viper.
'Look, Kennedy and I will be there in 45 to collect yo' ass so be ready.'�
I swallow what's left of my drink and finish getting dressed. Jules arrives on schedule wearing an 'AbFab' t-shirt (Patsy with a fifth of Stoli) and a huge grin. Kennedy Wentworth gets into the back seat. 'Whaaats Up!'� she exclaims as I hop inside.
'I love the nightlife, I got to boogie'� I say dryly, stealing a smoke from her.
Jules winks at me and screeches out of my drive way cranking up Prodigy to spleen crushing decibels.

'Our agenda'� Jules begins 'Is as follows...'�
'We are going to help our young comrade overcome the mind blowing and ghastly dating experience she has just had.'�

'Our Modus Operandi....excess..'�




Warsaw refers to us as 'The bitches of Id'�

To us self control is just an overrated but socially acceptable form of masochism. We all exist in the realm of the aesthetic sphere. Our lives are governed by the principles of sensuousness and pleasure. Love, the arts, and a few fabulous fucking martini's-the utopia of the New Age.


Someone says that Parker is having a party over in West Lake. Someone else makes the decision that we are going. No one knows exactly where it is. Jules, Kennedy, and I have been driving around for what seems like forever. The Twilight Singers are on the stereo-Greg Dulli is crooning down around the corner lives a naughty little girl who clicks her tongue I love the way she talk...Kennedy is in the back seat cutting up lines with her credit card .
'And now for my next trick', she says rolling up a fifty
'The human Hoover Maneuver.'�
Kennedy sucks up the pipe thick line with one hearty snort.
'Well ...Abracadabra'� I say sarcastically

We drive a long the glossy black streets, fresh from last nights rain. Everything is cast in an eerie glow from the full blood orange moon.

'Alexandra?'� Kennedy says
'Some people call me the space cowboy, some call me the gangster of love.'� I reply
'so what was the deal with you and Carley?'� Kennedy asks

I really don't want to talk about this right now

'Her ex was always lurking around like a virus'� Jules interjects
'They were supposedly broken up...but still lived together.'�
'Um so you were what...dating both of them?'� she says giggling
and then stops abruptly 'Still lived together?!'�
I take a sip of the luke-warm diet Pepsi I have been nursing since we started this little jaunt to WhoTheHellKnowsWhere
' I don't know man. Carley said she was just worried about her ex, because she hasn't been able to find another girlfriend since they broke up a year ago. Carley I guess is her only friend.'�

No fucking one says anything for what seems like an eternity.

Catherine Wheel is now seeping from the speakers of Jules' car....
It's too confused
And this is never found
I'm just like you
Inject me when I'm down...You'll never understand me

'Let me see if I understand this shit correctly..'� Kennedy says
'these two were not fucking...'�
'As far as she knows'� our Minister of Information chimes in
'And because her ex whines oh woe is fucking me'� Kennedy continues
'Carley feels guilty and/or obligated to the situation..'�
She pauses her brow furrowed deep in contemplation
'And the three of you were hanging out together...frequently?'�
'Um'� I reply
'And....AND!...this chick felt uncomfortable expressing affection towards you...while her ex is there because she is trying to be respectful of... her?...'�
'yeah..'� I croak
'But yet her ex is always around...?'�
I make no comment, just slightly nod my head.
'But...she was trying to be respectful of ...you too?..'�
I assent hesitantly , really not sure of anything anymore.
'�They... argued...a lot.'� I stutter
meekly trying to justify my utter stupidity of the situation.
'I'm traumatized'� Kennedy says sitting back rolling her eyes
'OK you know...sometimes us Leo's get blinded by love...'� she begins philosophically
'and sometimes it takes a Leo friend on the outside of the situation to inform the other said Leo friend that is ass deep in the emotional bullshit... that there are red flags a-wavin''� She says crossing her arms excitedly
as if she were flagging down the finalists at Naascar.
'Wait...WAIT... Didn't you date someone with ex issues before...in fact, wasn't she from that city too?!
Kennedy is one of the most animated people I know.
She takes a moment and then continues thoughtfully
'May I suggest you expand your dating pool to other area's of the state...'�
'Seems to be something in the water up North...'�
'And, it sounds to me like someone is pushing someone else's buttons to keep her one and only friend at her disposal regardless of her friends potential happiness.'�
Kennedy muses
The music has changed and Luscious Jackson is singing Daughters of the chaos.
'Yeah well it must have worked, we have reason to believe they are back together...'� Jules says
Kennedy starts rolling a joint
'Sometimes I just sit back ....and appraise the situation...'�
she sighs shaking her head

We finally get to Parkers place, inside its teeming with wall to wall bourgeois-bohemian types. All packed together like sardines with a penchant for Allen Ginsberg and 600 thread count sheets. We follow Kennedy to Parker's study , its old English style decor with overstuffed chocolate leather chairs and rich mahogany woods splashed with accent colors of hunter green and taupe.
'Cognac?'� she says staring blankly at the fireplace off to the corner, and then without comment fills three snifters full.
The walls are lined with what appears to be original Picassos.
'Ladies, I am so happy you could make it!'� Parker comes in carrying what looks like a Kaluah & cream in one hand and a Jack Russell terrier in the other. Two twins in Versace tuxedo's follow her.
'Bryson...Carson...I'd like you to meet, Kennedy Wentworth, Alexandra Montgomery, and Julia Hayes.'�
We all smile in each others general directions.
'Well...make yourselves at home...Tapas are in the dining room.'�
she chirps and turns taking her testosterone bookends with her.
' I see she bought a matching set this time.'�
Jules says, her gaze following the twins out of the door.

I look up from my drink
'What, her implants?'�

'Did you guys know that donkey's kill more people annually than plane crashes?'� Kennedy says


The Saviors Of Misbehavior

We decide to cut out of Parkers soirée early. I want to show them where I met Carley.
Club Plaztik is by invitation only. Warsaw got me in through one of her many ambiguous connections. She handed me a black ticket with a jagged letter 'P' embossed in silver while quoting Oscar Wilde.
'The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it.'�
Inside the club the air is thick with thudding techno bass and animated conversation.
Red and blue lights alternate splashing colors on the faces and in some corners bare asses of patrons.
'Sweet Jesus!'�
Kennedy cries
'What the fuck is going on up in here?!'�
Various areas of Plaztik are dedicated solely to BDSM demonstrations.
Area one, a couple is playing out a flogging scene.
Area two...leather restraints for the uninitiated.
'Dude, I am going over there!'�
Jules says pointing over at Area three.
Its a showcase of a new improved line of vibrators and strap-on's
'Dig it, the Cyber Viber-you can turn this on and screw someone in another city all by wireless remote!'
Jules radiates like a kid at Christmas.

'Technology at its finest.'� she says and takes off

The music changes something by the Chemical Brothers
Being here again floods images of my first encounter with Carley...Mistress Phoenix.

'What are you drinking?'� a smooth sultry voice asks melting through the hard amber din of the bar. I turn to my left and freeze. Standing before me is an extremely gorgeous woman. Long dark hair, and deep earthy eyes. The kind you could fall into and not give a damn when you hit bottom. I pull Warsaw's slick move of seduction number 33 and raise an eyebrow grinning.
'Cognac.'� she orders me another and sits down beside me.
'This your first time here?'� she asks
'is it that obvious?'� she chuckles and grabs my hand.
'hmmm, nail biter...are you nervous about something?'�
I keep my eyes riveted on hers 'not anymore'� I purr
She is clad from head to toe in black leather; calf high boots, pants a delicious second skin, silver studded black leather bra, and the cherry on her sundae of sadism- a long black leather whip.
Every striated muscle I own is aching with desire underneath her caress.
' So what's your name?'� I ask taking a sip of cognac with my other hand so I don't have to let her go.
'Mistress Phoenix'� she says as she turns my hand over and traces a line down the middle of my palm. A very light touch, as if she were trying to tease my nerve endings up through my skin.
'Ah, yes, the mythical bird that consumed itself in flames and then rose from the ashes.'�
I grin mischievously 'did I mention I'm a fire sign?'�
She giggles slyly and then looks at me inquisitively. I feel as though she can see inside me. A shiver echoes down my spine. I want this woman, I want to take Mistress Phoenix somewhere and do things to her that the Kama Sutra would chalk up as obscene.
'Are you a domme?'� she asks my eyes fall on her whip, long and serpentine.
'I'm not exactly sure.'� I reply only slightly caught off guard
'I mean, I love being in control, but I'd bend over for you in a heartbeat.-so you tell me.'�
An hour and a half later and I am up to my Freudian nipples in black leather and Hennessey.
I excuse myself and run to call Jules who at this very moment rolling a joint and watching the Flintstones.
'How's' it going...'� she asks
'I am in trouble.'� I say pacing, my cell phone cranked to my ear.
'Give me the particulars..'� she says sucking from the joint.
'I just met a dominatrix, she says she wants to devour me, she wanted to know if that scared me..'� I say glancing over my shoulder
'Have you exchanged the necessary contact information?'�
'Affirmative.'
'Sweet, then get back in there and mount up Regulator.'�
I hear her take another hit
'..you can call me post-coital.'�


Its almost as if this place has a rhythm of its own outside of the music. You can hear it between the cracks of whips, and smacks of hands on fresh flesh.
A pulse of raw passion... sovereignty and dominion

The back wall is lined with various implements of torture.
'Floggers, and dildos, and chains, oh my!'� Kennedy says as she
walks over to me and hands me another one of my signature libations;
Gray Goose Martini straight up, dirty, extra olives. Five minutes later Jules shows up with a bag full of goodies and some guy in a vinyl jock strap..
The music has changed and Depeche mode's master and servant fills the room.
'So this is where you met her?'� Kennedy smiles sarcastically.
'And you wonder why you had a problem?'�
Jules gives her newly purchased sexual bounty to vinylman and he scurries away to stash it behind the bar.
'You will not believe whose here..'� she says slowly
'No'� I say my body going limp
'Look over there, by the restrooms'�
My horror is real and palpable. There tied to a 'cross'� a device made of wood in the shape of an X , is the bitch formerly known as Carley's ex. She is being flogged by some non descript woman while Carley is looking dead at me.
Kennedy can barely contain herself.
'Wait...hold up...stop the presses!'� she exclaims
'That's her ex?....that's who she left you for to go back to?...I'm mortified!'�
Kennedy is almost shaking with the convulsive laughter building up inside her.
'Someone has went and hooked Grandma Walton up to the cross!'�
'Crack me up...I can see why she's wearing a dog collar.'� she chuckles quickly taking a drink of her Parrot Bay and Pineapple Juice.
'Bow wow wow yippie yo yippie yay.' says Jules darkly
Carley is still standing there through this exchange staring.
Sexual tension and desire shelling like gunfire from her eyes
'Scandalous'� Kennedy says
I give Carley a glare so arctic she'll be shitting sno-cones for the next week. I then look over at the bitch formerly known as her ex, and laugh in disbelief.
'Ok, see...we need to have a meeting of the minds.'
Kennedy says her face is a map of confusion
'You are all depressed about this woman, who could've had you...but went back to that. She is quite obviously unstable, so let swingin' Sybil go and let's get the hell up outta here.'�



Prelude To A Dis


'Dr. Montgomery, your 9:30 is here.'�
I sit up in my chair and take a quick sip of black coffee with extra sugar I can't function without. I am not a morning person, and after the episode last night, my therapeutic skills have crashed into the abyss of indifference. I was supposed to be here at 8:00 but finally made it in after a double espresso and a Xanax. My patient comes in and sits on the couch, today he seems happy, at any moment this could change.
My secretary has told me he is bi-polar.
'I want you to think back to your childhood.'� I say twirling a pencil between my fingers, relishing the cliche. This actually seems like a really good question to ask. Its what all the Psychiatrists ask in the movies and on TV. It seems relatively viable to me, but at the moment I couldn't care less. I mean does any of this really mean anything anyway?
'Well'� he begins
' I never really knew my father. He was kind of like a gigantic sperm sprinkler system that scattered bastard babies all over the countryside.
'mmhmm'� another of my standard curative responses.
' I was raised by my tyrannical grandmother and emotionally detached alcoholic step-grandfather.'� he continues
'We were rich'� he says beaming
'Go on'� I say semi-impressed, absent-mindedly chewing the tip of my pencil.
'I had lots of expensive things'� he says nodding his head
'Good' I say yawning
even if mommy doesn't love you, Ralph Lauren will.

Later at home, I begin wondering what the hell it was I ever saw in Carley.
Three days before she dumps me I get an e-mail that reads-'I miss you, I wish you were here. I can't wait to be in your arms again. I appreciate you so much my swooning sweet surrendering lover...'
etc, blah, blah, etc.
That weekend...
I go to her place, we hit the bar, we go back to her place and fuck for six hours
like the great pussy famine of 2006 loomed over the horizon.
Its nice to finally be with someone who has rhythm she had said
Then I get a phone call
'Things are getting too serious, I feel pressure...not from you, from me.'�
Even though she chased me, and at first, I am the one who ran like a Mexican drag queen at a Klan rally
Don't run away from me, she had said
'I thought I was ready for a relationship, but I guess I was wrong.'�

Have you ever had the feeling you've been had?

I think back to an a conversation, Carley and I had a week before regarding her ex;
She is having a hard time, because she
sees us, and she is missing what we had, and she's wishing she could of
changed things....she's feeling alone. I don't know what to say anymore...
I wish she could find someone to keep her mind off of things.....
if you have any suggestions, please pass
them along.....

Carley had tried to enlist a network of people in and around the greater southwest area...to help this woman find a fucking date.


The bitch formerly known as her ex, had commented during one of our countless three ring circus excursions together.
It will be better for you in the long run, if you help me find another girlfriend.
Yeah, she said that, I'm not kidding.

Have you ever had the feeling you've been had?

I ask Carley if I was a fling, this oddly pisses her off.
'I'm not a player...far from it.'�
Our conversation is repeatedly interrupted as she stops to argue yet again with her ex.

This is all so twisted its almost funny

And after vehemently proclaiming that she would never get back with her ex.
That's exactly what she does.
I guess truth is relative to the situation
This is when you see the genuine nature of the beast.
So much for not being ready for a relationship.

That day on the phone through what I now believe were manufactured tears she says
'I don't want you to hate me.'�

Side note to the Academy: This bitch deserves an Oscar

Me still being in love replied 'I could never hate you..'�

I guess I lied too.

I remember the first 'session'� I had with Carley.
I was suspended by leather cuffs hooked up to crossbars on the ceiling.
Carley was calmly informing me the advantages and her personal tenants of the 'Lifestyle' as she whacked the hell out of my ass with her bare hand.
'Its about letting yourself go..'� SMACK
'Its about uncovering the deepest facets of yourself..'� SMACK
'And discovering your limits..'� SMACK -SMACK
'its about trust..'�
Trust?
The sound of her slapping reverberated through the room, my body turning to hot electric liquid with every stroke.
'You've got a nice round ass little girl.'�
'I can turn your pain into pleasure...'�

They say hindsight is 20/20, but mine has a horrible case of astigmatism

I call Warsaw the next day and agree to meet her for lunch.

'How are you?'� she asks genuinely concerned
'Still a little fucked up'� I reply lighting a cigarette
'I mean, all this because I finally I gave in and told her how I really felt, I told her that I loved her and the situation with her ex, constantly participating in our activities was a little...I don't know... weird. '
Warsaw flags the waiter down and orders a huge Porterhouse blood rare and a Martini, that's it... just meat and booze.
She refers to it as a 'Naked Lunch'
'I am the anti-Valentine'� Warsaw begins
'Think of me as your proctologist of emotion. I will remove cupid's foot from your ass...and then direct you towards the path of self-preservation.'�
I watch Warsaw as she contemplates the swirly cold depths of her martini glass, the olive juice causing what looks like an oil slick to form on the surface.
'I'm just... amazed' I say
'She had told me before that she valued communication and expressing your feelings...well how much is too much? How much is not enough--?
'How much is the price of ass in Zimbabwe if you have good credit?'� Warsaw interjects.
'Whatever, its her loss'� I continue 'I'm over it.'�
'Who cares... fuck her, what you need...'�
Warsaw says slicing into her steak, red meat juice pooling around her plate.
'Is a tasty little distraction.....'�

We leave the restaurant, and I realize the girls were right. I am much better off.
I do need a tasty little distraction. As far as the other situation goes.
They can both kiss my nice round spankable ass.

Too many fucking games, too much drama.

The whole thing was like some big gay soap opera.
Like sands from the hourglass, and so are the days of our dykes.

Sometimes truth really is stranger than fiction

'Its about letting yourself go..'�
'Its about uncovering the deepest facets of yourself..'�
'And discovering your limits..'�
'its about trust..'�
'I can turn your pain into pleasure..'�

'I can turn your pleasure into pain..'�

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