Hank Moody

I miss your smell. When you left, I couldn’t wash the sheets because I didn’t want to lose that completely… You. And… it fucked me up for a long time because I would wake up and I’d smell you and I’d think you were there. And that would… My heart would break all over again. I think that’s why I go in for the kiss all the time. I know, yeah. I think I’m going for… another hit.

Hell-A Magazine blog number one. Hank hates you all. A few things I’ve learned in my travels through this crazy little thing called life. One: a morning of awkwardness is far better than a night of loneliness. Two: I probably won’t go down in history, but I will go down on your sister. And three: while I’m down there, it might be nice to see a hint of pubis. I’m not talking about a huge’70s playboy bush or anything, just something that reminds me that I’m performing cunnilingus on an adult. But I guess the larger question is,  why is the city of angels so hell-bent on destroying its female population?

Friends don’t let friends bang each other’s soul mates.

Must be my trick ear but I thought you said “blog”.

I don’t just say shit. I mean, I do talk a lot of shit, but I generally mean what I say and I say what I mean.

I wish you did speak English. I have a lot to discuss on the subject of accidental cunnilingus.

Declaring Jihad on your pussy.

Don’t tell me what to feel. All my fucking life, people have been telling me I do things wrong. I’m always the fucking asshole. I look around and I see everybody else is infinitely more fucked up than I am.

What was that? What’d you just say just now? L.O.L.? Laugh out loud? That’s a part of your lexicon? Really? L.O.L.?

It’s a big, bad world full of twists and turns, and people have a way of blinking and missing the moment… the moment that could’ve changed everything.