Savage Stabbing In The Garden

Right. My first weekend in Crappytown is dwindling away. What has the majestic templar Yossarian done you all ask with wet bathing suit areas in anticipation of what a semi-good-looking white guy with money to burn would do on his first weekend in a new city? Oh the exploits you think.
I will save you time and explain it to you in six words: 48 hours of the History Channel. That is succinct, tight, concise, brief, pithy, terse, laconic and short writing there. Brevity...I am your master.
That's all. No gin drunk. No whores purged. No fights fought. No digits got. No food ate. No dances danced. Just the History Channel. That's how I roll. Oh, and I got a haircut. Oh, and I found some porn involving mothers teaching daughters how to fuck. It's what I refer to as: The Devine Porn. Truly God blessed a true believer with the inspiration to create such beautiful work. Now I can watch this porn and it would seem to people I am watching for the hot younger girl, but my heart knows better. I am on about older ladies like Courtney is on about killing Kurt. I said it.
Am I a member of a secret society? I suppose that depends upon your definition of "a." There are more than one out there you know. But I am about to start self-mortification.
She is poetic in the way she moves. No one has the command or capacity to describe it. Regardless, no one notices. No one pays attention to how her fingers tremble when she handles money. No one looks when she pushes her hair behind her right ear with her left hand and sighs as her hair immediately falls. She isn't cognizant that she looks down and to the left while slightly tilting her head to the right when she finishes her cigarette. She thinks no one knows that she faintly stand on her toes when she hears good news. Everyone is oblivious to the glide in her step and rasp in her voice. But I know all these things and more. I deserve pain from knowing such pleasure.