A day without touch.

Oh yes, I was wondering why these weren't being posted here

To be honest, I'm not. Even on reddit (yes, I still like reddit, it has some cool stuff) I post pretty freely. I don't post about sensitive issues, but if someone who knows me looks at the comments I make, they could easily find out it's me. Frankly, it's not too important to me if someone knows who I am, since the subjects I talk about are those I talk about irl, and if I wanted to post while remaining anonymous, I would. As long as you're careful with what you post, I think it's ok.

Also, on the karma system, I'm going to go against hubski popular opinion and say that it's not too bad after all, as long as it's only reddit and its clones. It leads to a rise in popular opinion, so you can study what most people of a certain demographic think, like, and hate.

Oppenheimer's speech after the Manhattan project was amazing.

I don't get it, Sanders is running mostly for that issue.

The professor looks like she doesn't know whether she's amused or annoyed.

That's fucking disgusting. There are people who actually support him...

Two shots when Carson says something ridiculous about slavery.

Two shots when Carson says something ridiculous about slavery.

I open my eyes again. This is strange. "Françoise," I utter. "What?" "We won't fuck today." She opens her eyes again. "Is that a question?"-"No." She looks into my eyes, and asks "Why not? No rubber?" I kiss her forehead and reply "It's not that. I think that this is enough. It's a new feeling. Sex would just turn it into lust." "OK," she says, "Lunch?" I smile, and agree.

I get dressed, get my coat, take her hand, and go outside. "I want a kebab," she says, "That stand's the best. Hey, Ahmed!" I look towards the stand. A standard stand, here in Marseille, plain, with a green tarp, and some stupid name. Ahmed looks at us. He's balding, with glasses, with olive skin. The place reminds me a lot of Mexico City's taquerías, who became so similar to these that even their owners look exactly the same. "Hi, Fran, how many do you guys want?" "Two, with fries please." As I eat, I look around. I still have no idea how I got here. "Where are we?" I ask, "We're in the 9th" she answers. I sigh with relief, it's a safe place, and I can get home quickly.

Françoise looks at me, and out of nowhere says "I think you should go home." Surprised, I ask "Why? I thought we were having a good time." "We are, but I really think you should leave." I look at her, puzzled, and ask "Well, can I at least have your number?" "No." We look each other in the eye for a while. I kiss her, for the first time, and leave.

Kind of. When I actually eat popsicles my teeth don't hurt, but when I eat ice, they do. I still eat a lot of ice.

LA FEMME- Psycho Tropical Berlin French band, I've seen the genre described as psychedelic noir, which I think fits perfectly.

It's great, people should definitely try it!

  I wake up in someone else's bed. What surprises me here is that I'm fully clothed, I didn't even take my sweater off. I look to the door, and remember a bit more about the night before. There was a girl,  I think her name was Françoise, she was very nice, we ended up talking until somewhere around 4 a.m. Poor girl. Her parents are away right now, so, as anyone she's making a mess of the house. I get out of bed and once again look around the room. There's a couple of posters here and there, I see one of La Femme, a band I really like, one of a modern art exhibition in the Musée d'Orsay, and one of a corrida de toros in Mexico City. I giggle a little at that one, since it's my father's hometown. I remember going there as a kid, having lots of fun, cheering the toreros along, and then going to eat birria, made from some of the bulls.

  She comes in the room. She already showered, so most of her make-up is already cleared away, apart from some of her eyeliner. She actually looks better that way. I smile and say "Good morning." She smiles back and calls me to breakfast. We have cereal in silence, but she still grins. I ask her why. "It's the first time I've ever spent the night with a guy, you know, all night." I blush and smile back. "Did we, you know..." I ask. "No, I don't think so, we would probably have woken up naked then, wouldn't we?" I nod, and look around. The house is oddly tidy, with a couple of cigarette burns here and there. I look back at her, and notice her face a bit more. She has bright green eyes and strawberry blonde hair, not too rare down here, but certainly appreciated. I ask where she's from, she says she's from Caen, hence the accent. I say I'm from Lyon. She asks for my last name, "Fierro," I respond. She asks where it's from. I say my dad's Mexican. 

  She gets up and tells me to come with her. We go back to her room. She takes off her clothes. She tells me to do the same. I comply. I ask her what she's getting at. She tells me to come by her. I lay down with her. She puts my arms around her waist. She tells me to close my eyes and my mouth, and just enjoy the silence.

Thanks for the feed, I'll follow up in the next one, where I think I'll develop my characters a bit more.

I think it's just that my teeth are very sensitive. I have had nightmares about it though.

Popsicles, for some reason. It's not like I'm going to freak out if you put one near my face, but I'm kind of scared of eating them.

I smile and look at this person. I've never met her before, but being a generous young woman, she offers me a hit of her joint. How kind of her! Never have I exchanged a word with her, yet amid all these lowlifes and bums, and idiotic teenagers, she decides to take her chances and offer me the chance to relieve me of the burden of my sobriety. I gladly accept and ask about her name. "I'm Françoise" she says, in a heavy norman accent. She isn't especially pretty, but she isn't exactly ugly. She had a certain allure to her that quite intrigued me. "Blaise!" I exclaim as I bow and kiss her hand, "pleased to meet you". She laughs and gives me a funny grin, at which I smile. "Would you like to dance," I say in my most refined voice, "mademoiselle?". She denies my request, but invites me to sit in front of her. Then we just stare into each other's eyes, not really because of anything, just that our brains were too clouded to say anything. Suddenly, I interrupt, and ask whose house we're in. She says it's hers. We take another hit. "I guess we should all apologise about how we're wrecking it," I laugh. She giggles, in an insincere way, not showing that she's bothered or anything, just showing that she wouldn't if she were in her right mind.

She then takes my hand, stands up and leads me to her room, without saying a word. It's a dump, but then again, I wasn't expecting anything else. "Well, she says, now that we're alone, we can talk better, don't you think?" I didn't really mind the others, so I shrug. " Look at it," she says pointing to the room, "what do you see?", "Well, it doesn't seem as if you put more effort into it". She gives me that funny look again, at which, again, I proceed to laugh. "I'm kind of confused, I'm not sure what you want, is it company, a conversation, or sex?" She looks around the room, sits down on a pile of clothes and sighs. "Any of them, really, I just want someone around," she answers "Hence the party". "Can I stay here?" I ask "I don't really want to go home tonight, and my parents don't really mind." She nods, and says "On one condition; please talk to me as long as you can".

Well, at least we have hubski... for now.

Let me guess, South Dublin is like the posh-english/South London accent.

Come to Mexico please. We're an awesome, interesting, and beautiful country that really wants more people to come, whether it's just for tourism, or if it's to work. If you cant, that's ok, go to Greece, I hear it's cheap, awesome, and really, really needs your cash.