Skip to main content

The Speeches: Valentine's Day

Once upon a time I wrote a podcast for a slow witted Canadian and a sassy English iPad. For some reason I assumed I could write, produce and act out a small play that involved complaining and lite observational comedy.

I cannot write. I cannot act to save my life. Neither of those facts prevented me from writing long monologues for myself to perform.

This is one of those speeches:


Oh, I know, it's Valentines Day! How could I forget. Its one holiday that doesn't celebrate the ending of a war, the death of an activist or the birth of the greatest lie ever force fed to the worlds ignorant masses within the past two thousand years.

Valentines Day – not just for lovers, it is also the best day of the year to showcase the disparate and the desperate, the geeky and the nerdy, the overly aggressive tanned single party people and the overly fat socially awkward crowd who, once a year, feel the need to leave their caves and interact with the outside world. They all have something in common – its lust. These people want to fuck. Oh sure, they won't admit it on LiveJournal, in fact they will claim that they only want to find a soul mate, someone who can look past the many, many faults and find some deeper meaning in the barely functioning paradigm of society we call the Internet. But really, they just want to fuck.

Valentine's Day has a reputation. For some, it is the barometer for a current relationship --- is it red hot and romantic? Or is it gas station roses and a Twix?

For others it is a sign post on the road of life, signalling the passing of another year without a friend or lover, someone to cling to, to help beat back the oppressive darkness of single life.

And for even more others, Valentine's Day is an excuse to eat chocolate, to cry over friends' wedding photos and to lose oneself in the adventures -- or misadventures -- of a Tom Hanks movie where, inevitably, we learn that the only person we are compatible with is a neurotic Meg Ryan.

And other people just choose to ring in the year by getting fucked and sucked and finger fucked and facialed, and cream pied, and foot jobbed, and ear fucked, and nose fucked, and fucking cum in the naval, and eat while fucked, eat while sucked, yank on the balls, pull on the labia, and fuck while doing algebra or make a pussy bong and then fuck it, and then go on Chat Roulette and berate random dudes until they cum. All that shit. 

...

Presented as originally written with little to no editing. 

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Here I Come

The Internet has long acted as an echo chamber for thought. A place for strangers in strange lands to seek out and explore their passions. Sites sprang out of the dirt, muck and mire to become refuges to the disenfranchised; homes for the hopeless, places of light allowing people to grow and become greater than they thought possible. In the dark, away from prying eyes, the most lascivious discourse imaginable was being spewed fountain-like into the void in the hopes that the shadow laden creatures who thrive on sinister thoughts and feelings would too grow into a force to be reckoned with. Both sides seek understanding. Both sides seek to share their ideals. Both sides believe they are right.  One side is wrong. Many years ago I hosted an unpopular but listened to podcast, a highlight among Canadian titles that were bland and properly curated. It was a standout beside shows where a gimmick or a theme drove content as We couldn't be bothered to talk about just any popular subje...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Latest Reintroduction

 Hello, my name is Adam Greene.  And despite my worst impulses I do care.  This is about the fiftieth time I've restarted this blog. At first it was merely a summary of a lousy podcast. Then it was a repository for lousy pictures.  Then it was a lousy, rarely updated, angry blog.  Then it was a flower shop.  Then it was another lousy, rarely updated, angry blog.  Then it was the Huffington Post.  And now it's a blog about me for me. For me to discover what I think about things. For me to share things that I can't share on social media because it would be awkward. For me to come to terms with all of the feelings and weird thoughts I have.  For me to help myself.  Because I like caring. It feels good.  And it is time I felt good.  Adam Greene deserves it.
Post a Comment
Read more

Haunted by Dead Weight: The Exercisist

I imagine people would find it hard to believe that I was heavy for years. Heavy is putting it lightly; I was fat as hell. Portly by way of obese. Truly a fat fuck. Not anymore. It has been years since I was overweight: gone are the days of my thighs rubbing together as I walk and I make semi-regular eye contact with my undersized penis, which are really telling signs that you've hit a point of concern: If chapped leg skin and disappearing genitalia doesn't raise a red flag then what does? There were a couple of incidents that opened my eyes to my problem: 1: It was a Sunday and I was going out to lunch with my Father. Nothing upper tier, no tie required. I remember I was wearing a red polo shirt, sunglasses and uncomfortably snug pants and for some reason I noticed myself in the highly reflective glass of a Subway sandwich place. I looked fucking terrible. Really quite bad. First off, my mouth was open as I was gulping down air to prevent a black out from the little b...
Post a Comment
Read more