"No Puedo Tocar La Guitarra"
My love, I cannot play the guitar.
I cannot sing you a beautiful song.
Painful admission, though it is, tristeza ilimitado
So ask the dirty hippie busker,
who gigs in the street,
he knows all the timeless tunes,
from "California Girls" to
"Canned Heat." The song by
Jamiroquai, not the band
from Canada.
"Latin Lovers"
Quid pro quo.
This for that.
Veni, vidi, vici.
I came and did some other stuff.
Victori Spolia.
I won, and now I take some shit.
"Having Sex with Myself"
Just another Saturday night.
Blogging.
Bored.
Boxers down around my ankles.
So I jerk off to those singles ads on myspace.
That one girl has a mondo rack.
Oh baby.
"Skipping Church"
They say the bible is good literature, but I disagree,
it's pretty fucking boring, especially for me.
I don't like the stories, I don't endorse what they
suggest,
I'd rather jerk off or have sex with hookers,
than be "put to the test."
If god is so powerful and all knowing,
he should smite me for all the fun I'm
sowing.
So this Sunday I'm skipping church,
I don't care what mom says,
al infierno contigo
and that's where I'll go.
"To that girl I accidentally felt up"
Was it good for you?
It was good for me.
"Hope Springs Eternal, Jenny Lane"
Jenny Lane was my girlfriend. She had blonde hair and lots of tattoos. We dated for two years. 2004 and 2005. About 731 days. Things were okay. Nothing special really happened. Our sex-life was largely disappointing. At least to me. Maybe she enjoyed it, but she never said so one way or the other. All she would do during intercourse is moan in monotone with occasional squeaks. It was weird. She even put her finger in my ass a couple times.
One day she walked in on me jerking off to Asian porn. I thought she was gonna be mad, but she just smiled. I think she chuckled a little, too. I can't remember. Anyway, a few days passed and we were sitting on the porch drinking wine. Innocent stuff. Out of nowhere she says, "so you like Asians now?"
"I've always liked Asians," I said.
"Really?" she asked.
"No doubt."
We said nothing else that night. The next morning she woke me up with a handjob. It was nice but all I could think about was that Asian chick with the braces that I was wanking it to days before. After an hour and no cum, Jenny gave up. I wanted to laugh, but she was pretty upset.
She started smoking again. Being that I'm a militant non-smoker, I'd always felt proud that the power of my cock (my story and I'm sticking to it, god damn it) got an equally militant chain-smoker to quit. This lapse bugged me, so I approached her about it and she tore into me. Literally. We were rolling on the floor. She laid her dainty fists into my face without mercy.
Hijole mama!
When she got off me, she lit another cig and glared at me. All I could say while nursing a soon to be blackened eye was, "What the fuck, Jenny?" Over and over again.
We broke up the next day. She said that she was going to fuck the next guy she meets who isn't all tied up in an Asian chick fetish. My parting words to her were,
"Hope springs eternal, Jenny Lane."
All writings by Stuart González.
Stuart González is a self-published writer who currently lives with his family in Dallas. He has a degree in Literature from Rice University which he has done nothing with. He is unmarried, unemployed, and currently working on a collection of poetry.
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