The funny thing about mirrors is that when they’re broken up into tiny little pieces and plastered against the wall directly adjacent to your bed they also double as razor blades. I learned this very important lesson while engaging in sexually lewd acts with a crazy person. Who knew that while dry humping some tisch student I’d be endanger of not only some awful overacting on her part but of also slicing up inch wide gashes on my arm that made me look like a suicide attempt or at the least someone that got in a fight with a crazed squirrel. The only thing worse than having all of your friends think you’re cutting is them thinking you missed and cut your fucking elbow. Trust me, it’s embarrassing. It didn’t help that she had a bunk bed and usually I was so drunk I just tumbled off the 5 foot drop and hoped to land on my side. At least the bruises were covered by my shirt. This small experience is just one of many that have made my time in New York all the more interesting. Despite all the blood…and emotional damage, I don’t regret any of it aside from the scarring, I could totally live without the scarring but I mean chicks dig scars. However, this did always make me wonder about the weird things people do just to make something their own. I once had a girl repeatedly bite me in the midst of what I thought was kissing only for her to explain this “loving” action as something she only did with me. Yea…listen if I wanted a swollen, cut up mouth I’d go out and start a fight with the nearest drunk bro I could find. Otherwise I’m not interested in suffering physical injury in the hope for sex, especially when everyone knows that open wounds make you like a million times more susceptible to AIDS, yea still definitely not interested. What ever happened to the person you were with being enough excitement. Granted, I’m probably not a good example as I’m about as thrilling as a snail race on tv in a hook up but regardless I had the distinct feeling that I wasn’t the only man these women had treated to such “unconventional” acts of affection. Call me old fashioned, call me boring, call me a pussy, but I like the action to be between two consenting partners sans deadly objects and infection concerns….that’s suppose to be what the condom is for. Basically I’m just trying to say that being kinky and sending me to a doctor’s office for hepatitis shots are two very different things and I just hope that I won’t have to start shaking from fear next time I hook up with a girl. Until then, this is Matt signing off.
Note: No mirrors were hurt during the research for this piece…Tisch students yes, and many of them.
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4 comments:
Matt,
You stand corrected. I always, and to this day, stated that you are "like" my son. I never went so far as to actually adopt you, a decision that would entail far more responsibility than I think I could handle. I had dinner with my other faux adopted son and your soulmate, the infamous Nitin, the other week and it sounds like you're doing well!! BTW, you're missing out with being so anti-biting in the bedroom, and no, I won't elaborate further. All I will repeat is, you're missing out.
First of all dear, I don't know if I was clear enough in my depiction of the biting, but I kid you not these were not love nibbles and gentle clenches of a lustful partner. If anything it resemebled the violent aggressive biting of a toddler or early elementary age child with a strong jaw and new sharp teeth. The deep flesh wounds filled my mouth with pain and blood...so no in that respect I don't think I'm "missing out"
+5 for Ramirez. a surprisingly humorous entry.
Tony the Tiger is a great artist. I especially like his work with neo-abstract expressionism and pre-post modernism.
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