|Update or something
||[Feb. 21st, 2009|03:55 pm]
Brian and Justin Conversations
Oh yeah, guess I was supposed to post an update or something here. Not my fault the lad didn't remind me. He stayed in Toronto the entire week, finishing the apartment closing process and doing some gallery work (which he can fucking well tell you about himself sometime), while I played stay-at-home uncle/babysitter/slave-driver for the teenage pain in the ass. The younger one, not the one who still LOOKS like a teenager (and acts like one too, but don't tell him I said so).|
That is quite enough fucking narration or whateverthefuck you call this kind of thing. Now I am going to address Mister Taylor, always assuming he bothers to open his laptop sometime and reads this.
J, I (and Peter, if he can tear himself away from his stupid games and cellphone) will pick you up at the airport tomorrow. And then we are going to dump the kid someplace yet to be determined. At Jesus Central, or someplace else, I don't give a fuck where (how about the bus station, that's open 24/7 isn't it?). Then we can have the loft to ourselves so that I can fuck you into oblivion or beyond, and you can do your little squealing/screaming routine to your heart's content, without giving the boy far more sex education than he needs right now.
Besides, the loft's been too fucking quiet. You make so much noise and mess that I should be glad of the respite, but apparently I've gotten used to it, or something. There's a fucking echo in here when I'm alone.