What do I care about chess?

(I'm blurting out sometimes. Thanks BadMan for showing me.)

Bike Man told me about wielding a chainsaw against a former Swiss light weight champion who wielded a bike frame as protection. This was after the latter smashed the former's head on a vice. It was all about women and madness.

I watched him in a manic state as he prepared dinner. The strange glow of an exposed bulb lighting the small kitchen and his black frame speaking, the majority of the time, to a window. I drank a lot of wine and kept thinking, "I have to remember this."

Of the 4 hours, a half-hour was spent turning my ass to red with a crop while he jacked off above me. I got cum in my eye and it turned bloodshot. I did not cum. But I got crazy stories.

I watched a Canadian film on Putin, which scared me to sleep at 3am. And then, after I had already decided not to get up at 8:30am for the 9:30 train to see my flatmate tell stories in a festival in Vevey (an hour away), "...do you want to come sunday to the beehouses?..." The Economist is a Beekeeper.

At 10:34am "yes"

He found an extra helmet. We're going on his moto.

I am afraid of bees. The Russian girl friend will die laughing reading this.

Especially after the story I told her about me dropping to the floor as if a drive-by outside my window, knees hitting the floor and my head down -- ducking from a bee that came into my bedroom and promptly fled the giant that fell on the floor in wild fashion.

Dios mio.