Monday, December 25, 2023, 9:55 am

Surviving Whamaggedon

Well, I avoided Whamhalla. Yet, it’s kind of a hollow victory. Because I do like the song.

It’s a great pop song, about unrequited love, which I happen to know a little about. Avoiding it stripped a bit of the joy of the holiday season.

I can say I survived Whamaggedon 2023, for the novelty of it, and to say it IS possible. But in the future, I don’t think I’ll play.

What i'm listening to:
Music from the Edge of Heaven Last Christmas
Wham!
Music from the Edge of Heaven

Tuesday, December 19, 2023, 6:59 pm

Late night intrusion

I awoke with a start. Someone was banging on the door. Hard.

“Jesus,” I mumbled. “What time is it?”

The clock on the nightstand confirmed it was just after three in the morning.

The banging persisted. Whoever it is, they want in.

I slide out from the warm covers and reach for a pair of jeans. Boxers. Anything. I fumble for the light switch before cracking open the door to peer outside. “Shit,” I think to myself. “I know these guys.”

Larry and his father push their way in.

“Where is she?” Larry demands.

“Where is who?”

“Don’t be a jackass. We know she’s been sneaking out at night. Her friend, Misty, suggested we check here.

“You’ve got quite a reputation in town,” Larry’s father accused.

“I’m sorry, sir. If you’re talking about Elsie, she did meet me several hours ago at the Century Club,” I replied, surprisingly calmly. “But we didn’t leave together.”

My composure was solid. I’d been expecting this confrontation. Elsie is an incredible girl, beautiful, witty and a sensational body. Yet, she’s also a nineteen-year-old Jehovah Witness girl. What’s a 22-year-old guy to do?

“She’s not here,” I finished. “Go ahead and look around.”

Larry is still visibly filled with rage, but I’ve denied him the satisfaction of venting it on me. His father looks resigned. Age and experience, I suppose.

I wouldn’t know. My veins are still pulsing from the intrusion. Yet somehow, I’ve never been so calm when confronted. I’m sizing them up. I’m twice Larry’s size, and his dad is... old. But, two against one? I’m not confident this will end in my favor if it escalates.

They both wander around the apartment. Larry peeks into the bedroom, but doesn’t go in.

“Larry, we’ve been looking for a while. Maybe we missed her, and she’s home now,” Larry’s father offered.

“Maybe.” Larry’s not convinced.

His dad turned to me, “Look here, you little shit, I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but if you ARE seeing my daughter, that ends now. Got it?”

I’ve been confronted like this before. I have to suppress my usual “shit-eating” grin, so I look down. “Yes sir,” I say.

“Good,” Larry says. “If we have to come back here...”

“Got it,” I said, not letting him finish. Now, I’m annoyed. It’s late. Irritation has replaced my tiredness. Who knows if I’ll be able to get back to sleep?

“She’s too good for you,” Larry’s father finishes.

“She is,” I agree. “And she’s not here. And I have to work in the morning, so I think you should leave.” My temper slipped a notch.

After one more cursory glance around the apartment, they both move towards the door. Slowly.

“You’re not to see her again. Remember that,” Larry said as I closed the door behind them.

As I slid the deadbolt, the adrenaline begins to subside.

Damn, there was nearly a fight. In my own place.

Damn.

There’s movement. From the shadows next to the bedroom window, she emerges, wrapped in a bedsheet. My god, she’s so beautiful.

“Elsie, honey,” I start. “We need to talk...”

Thursday, November 16, 2023, 12:43 pm

Lazy desire

There is a quote by the late George Sanders:

My own desire, as a boy, was to retire.

This is my desire as well. I want to be wealthy. Stupid wealthy. And lazy. I don’t want to do anything for this wealth.

And I don’t want to get old. At least not before the wealth happens. There are far too many twenty-something women out there.

Will my life change dramatically when this occurs? No. Resoundingly no.

I will still spend the majority of my day reclined. Probably reading. Or napping. Just elsewhere. Anywhere.

Because I am lazy. If only I could afford it.

Tuesday, August 22, 2023, 6:33 pm

Still undateable after all these years

Her name is Danielle. At least that’s what she told me.

And on a night seventeen years ago, she told me I was undateable. That didn’t stop us from having some fun. A lot of fun. That wasn’t the point.

I’m still undateable, although now it’s by choice. I don’t want to marry. I don’t even want to date. I don’t want to regularly threaten my peace. My solitude.

Is that strange? Really, is it?

It’s a rare soul who is comfortable in a room. Alone. With no distractions.

Many nights, I’m comfortable with Pascal’s torment.

Yet not all. I still have wants. Needs. Desires.

And there are so many beautiful women out there. With their wants. Needs. Desires.

When she walks into the room, our eyes meet. We both know what we want. We both know we can have the other. Pure love radiates between us, bringing the temperature up in the room ever so slightly.

No, I’ll never be your husband. I’ll never be your boyfriend.

But I’ll be your lover... forever.

Yes. I’d like that. Very much.

Come. Into my world. It’s fantastic here.

What i'm listening to:
Still Crazy After All These Years Still Crazy After All These Years
Paul Simon
Still Crazy After All These Years

Saturday, July 8, 2023, 6:49 am

Painful conundrum

My body hurts so bad, I don’t want to move.

Yet... if I don’t move—today, or tomorrow, or this week—my body will continue to hurt. And weaken. And hurt more.

What happened to the walker? The runner? All of the press-ups?

Where is that guy?

Wednesday, May 3, 2023, 8:33 am

The guideline

If you like her—and I do, like her—there is really only one guideline before hitting “Send.”

Will it make her smile?

Okay. Hit “Send.”

Monday, May 1, 2023, 12:43 pm

Don't Answer Me

If you believe in the power of magic
It's all a fantasy
So if you need to believe in someone
Just pretend it's me
It ain't enough that we meet as strangers
I can't set you free
So will you turn your back forever on what you mean to me?

Don't answer me, don't break the silence
Don't let me win
Don't answer me, stay on your island
Don't let me in

Run away and hide from everyone
Can you change the things we've said and done?

What i'm listening to:
Ammonia Avenue Don’t Answer Me
The Alan Parsons Project
Ammonia Avenue

Friday, April 28, 2023, 9:23 am

It's your birthday...

Today is another birthday.

No, not mine... the birthday of a loved one.

She’s no longer interested in celebrating either.

Imagine, celebrating the day all of your troubles started.

Yeah, it’s kind of like that. Yet, I’m okay with not making it to the next one. Unlike most people. At least in my observations.

So many are afraid to live. And afraid to die. Even those nearing the finish line.

Me? Memento Mori. Bring it on.

I have few regrets. I am still satisfied if I die without ever setting foot in Alabama or Tennessee. If I never taste another pancake with maple syrup. Even, if I never find myself inside another Moldovan beauty.

Although, the latter I’d love to experience. She may be the one that keeps me going.

I don’t need to mark, nor celebrate, trips around the sun to achieve that goal.

Anyway, happy birthday, beautiful. We won’t celebrate, yet I will manage to get you a couple of small tokens I picked up.

Tuesday, March 14, 2023, 7:21 am

Construction

My father could fix anything. A true tinkerer. Perhaps that’s where I get it from.

When that old stereo failed to belt out the arena rock at a suitable volume, he loved taking the panel off and diving right in. He taught me how to solder. How to clean components. And sometimes he made it up as he went along. Occasionally there was a piece or two left over—and in a drawer. But whatever he fixed worked!

Yet, I don’t ever recall him building anything. Rebuild, yes. I remember how much he loved restoring that ’49 Chevy pickup. And the ’71. He loved his Chevrolets made with real steel.

Admittedly, I wasn’t around much. Maybe he did light construction I was unaware of. Framed a wall. Finished a room. I vaguely recall he wasn’t a fan of swinging a hammer—or at least smashing a thumb. Wait, that could’ve been me…

Imagine how blown away I was as a child, when I saw someone actually use graph paper to sketch out a room. A house. With numbers and calculations and everything. And then build that internal wall. And stand it up. And it actually fits.

Truly building!

So many power tools. And he taught me how to use them. Safely.

Because he loves all of his fingers and toes too. His brother had one finger missing from an accident. And no teeth. But I digress.

I recall building the house they still live in as money permitted. There was no real hurry—that drafty trailer house his grandmother left him provided some shelter. It was a truly glorious day when we moved into that new construction.

And how well constructed it was. I may never know how much of that was by design. Versus by accident.

Not drafty at all. In fact, the entire house made a “Woosh” sound whenever a door—or window—opened. A change in air pressure. Not the most desirable quality when I or my little sister, with our simmering teenage hormones, decided to be sneaky fuckers and slip out of the house, unnoticed, only to find we were locked out upon our return.

Certainly, worse punishment than coming home with a light on… yet, the point is how well constructed something only a handful of people can build.

I’m no longer a child. Yet, I was truly a li’l shit during the time in my life when I was asked to help work on the house. That and gardening. And hunting for fresh meat. The little things that’d be nice to know for… survival.

No, but I can probably fix that seven foot long console stereo that no longer works. Or that jukebox that plays 45’s… even if those are getting hard to find. Hell, I can probably get that ancient iPod buried in your desk working. My 20-year-old one has had parts… replaced.

Perhaps, learning to fix things and make them last… forever… attributes to my sense of scarcity. But I digress again.

Currently, I am faced with an opportunity. A truly new direction. Project management for a physical project. Running a staff/household where there will be gardening. And light construction. Work hard. Play hard. And plenty of time to watch my own dreams unfold.

And I’m terrified. Even if I fantasize about building my own place one day. And lament not having paid attention. At least I can read a blueprint. And understand why certain components are placed where they are, demands from the physical world. Plus, this opportunity will require me to let go of my judgments. And to see the abundance in the universe. And to build something tangible. Not just ghosts in the machine. All good things!

And maybe, just maybe, I’ll learn to build something. And discover abundance along the way. And leave something behind that can’t just be deleted with a keystroke or a click.

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