I came to respect and love the Harris Family and the Cornelia Marie.
RIP Phil.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Jocks Held In Too High a Regard?
This is a possible scandal brewing, and I think it underlines what I have been saying for years: Talented sports figures can get away with murder.
A college which is looking very likely as the one to win the Men's NCAA basketball championship has allegedly covered up a serious sexual harassment scandal involving one of it's star players.
According to a secondhand report, a certain NCAA basketball star was involved in an unnecessarily prolonged incident of sexual harassment of one of his female instructors. The female instructor become very distraught, and this basketball star was removed from the class, and the incident was covered up, leaving the instructor emotionally scarred. To date, as I spoke to a close friend of the instructor, the issue has not been addressed and is likely never to be addressed.
What makes a talented sports figure so special that they continue to avoid accountability for their actions? I've seen it since high school, where jocks usually got a passing grade in a class without really showing any work in the subject, merely because the ball team likely wouldn't fare so well without them. I've seen it where police have actually removed a star player from a situation quietly, while everyone else present get's the full measure of the law.
What kind of message does this send our children?
Hold athletes responsible for their actions. Why is a championship so important that we ignore gross criminal behavior of the participants?
A college which is looking very likely as the one to win the Men's NCAA basketball championship has allegedly covered up a serious sexual harassment scandal involving one of it's star players.
According to a secondhand report, a certain NCAA basketball star was involved in an unnecessarily prolonged incident of sexual harassment of one of his female instructors. The female instructor become very distraught, and this basketball star was removed from the class, and the incident was covered up, leaving the instructor emotionally scarred. To date, as I spoke to a close friend of the instructor, the issue has not been addressed and is likely never to be addressed.
What makes a talented sports figure so special that they continue to avoid accountability for their actions? I've seen it since high school, where jocks usually got a passing grade in a class without really showing any work in the subject, merely because the ball team likely wouldn't fare so well without them. I've seen it where police have actually removed a star player from a situation quietly, while everyone else present get's the full measure of the law.
What kind of message does this send our children?
Hold athletes responsible for their actions. Why is a championship so important that we ignore gross criminal behavior of the participants?
Friday, February 26, 2010
Ghosts are Such Assholes (or How I Became a Temporary Kidnapping and Murder Suspect)...
So, I live in a place that is extremely haunted. I can count at least four apparitions. What I didn't count on was one of these ghosts getting me put under scrutiny.
To start off I live in an apartment adjoining the barn on the ranch where I work. I like it because it is quiet and I hear nothing but horses. Did I tell you I like horses? I also dig ghosts, so the fact that this place is haunted doesn't frighten me in the least.
Well, this morning, we had a couple on the ranch doing some work in exchange for boarding their horses here. I will call them Larry and Carrie. Well, Larry was in the main barn, Carrie was in the outer barn, and they were feeding and watering the horses. The time was approcimately six a.m.
I had awoke, as I always do when they show up, and started t drift back to sleep, when all of a sudden I hear Larry running, and yelling for his wife. I sat up and looked out the window, and Carrie comes out of the outer barn, wondering what her husband is excited about. He tells her that he heard a woman's voice screaming "Help me!" So I got dressed and went downstairs and asked Larry what he had heard, and he told me, and I remarked that the ranch is haunted and that is one of the things I hear on occasion, and to not be alarmed. I couldn't help but notice a strange look on his face as I turned and went back up to the apartment, but I dismissed it and laid back down.
At 7:30 I am awakened by a Kentucky State trooper who is telling me that he got a report of a woman in distress screaming on the property, and he wants to me to open every door. So I did. The officer was satisfied that no murder had taken place, and left.
Ten minutes later, Larry arrives and is apologizing profusely. He explained what he had heard and how it made him feel, because to him it sounded just like a real woman in distress. I then told him of what I had seen and heard here at the ranch since I started working here, and I told him not to worry about it, because if I were in his shoes I'd have done the same thing.
This place is haunted. I won't argue the point with anyone. All they have to do is stay a few days here, learn the noises the horses make, and they will begin to pick out the unnatural noises that I hear every night. They might even see the apparitions that I have seen.
Up until this morning, the most annoying ghost we had here is a man about five feet eight inches tall, and when he walks you can hear the sound of boot heels on the concrete. He walks the stalls every night, and wakes me up. I see him in the dim light that comes in through the windows, but only as a shadow, and when I turn on the lights, he is not there. I have had him within arms reach of me twice, and saw his silhouette both times but when i flicked the light on, again, he is not there.
So now we have the "Help me!" ghost. I've heard her twice before and both times have gone rushing around the property with a flashlight trying to find the woman in distress, to no avail.
Other ghosts include a singing woman, and children.
My ethereal playmates...
To start off I live in an apartment adjoining the barn on the ranch where I work. I like it because it is quiet and I hear nothing but horses. Did I tell you I like horses? I also dig ghosts, so the fact that this place is haunted doesn't frighten me in the least.
Well, this morning, we had a couple on the ranch doing some work in exchange for boarding their horses here. I will call them Larry and Carrie. Well, Larry was in the main barn, Carrie was in the outer barn, and they were feeding and watering the horses. The time was approcimately six a.m.
I had awoke, as I always do when they show up, and started t drift back to sleep, when all of a sudden I hear Larry running, and yelling for his wife. I sat up and looked out the window, and Carrie comes out of the outer barn, wondering what her husband is excited about. He tells her that he heard a woman's voice screaming "Help me!" So I got dressed and went downstairs and asked Larry what he had heard, and he told me, and I remarked that the ranch is haunted and that is one of the things I hear on occasion, and to not be alarmed. I couldn't help but notice a strange look on his face as I turned and went back up to the apartment, but I dismissed it and laid back down.
At 7:30 I am awakened by a Kentucky State trooper who is telling me that he got a report of a woman in distress screaming on the property, and he wants to me to open every door. So I did. The officer was satisfied that no murder had taken place, and left.
Ten minutes later, Larry arrives and is apologizing profusely. He explained what he had heard and how it made him feel, because to him it sounded just like a real woman in distress. I then told him of what I had seen and heard here at the ranch since I started working here, and I told him not to worry about it, because if I were in his shoes I'd have done the same thing.
This place is haunted. I won't argue the point with anyone. All they have to do is stay a few days here, learn the noises the horses make, and they will begin to pick out the unnatural noises that I hear every night. They might even see the apparitions that I have seen.
Up until this morning, the most annoying ghost we had here is a man about five feet eight inches tall, and when he walks you can hear the sound of boot heels on the concrete. He walks the stalls every night, and wakes me up. I see him in the dim light that comes in through the windows, but only as a shadow, and when I turn on the lights, he is not there. I have had him within arms reach of me twice, and saw his silhouette both times but when i flicked the light on, again, he is not there.
So now we have the "Help me!" ghost. I've heard her twice before and both times have gone rushing around the property with a flashlight trying to find the woman in distress, to no avail.
Other ghosts include a singing woman, and children.
My ethereal playmates...
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
The Truth Hurts as Funny as it May Be...
This is an excerpt from a comedy show by the late George Carlin.
One thing about Carlin, he was funny and he told the damned truth, but in a way we could laugh about it. It is sad that this is the truth, and this is what Thomas Jefferson warned us against.
--
"But there's a reason. There's a reason. There's a reason for this, there's a reason education SUCKS, and it's the same reason it will never ... ever ... EVER be fixed. It's never going to get any better, don't look for it, be happy with what you've got. ... ... ... BECAUSE ... THE OWNERS, OF THIS COUNTRY, DON'T WANT THAT! ... ... I'm talking about the real owners now ... ... ... ... ... the BIG owners! ... ... ... The Wealthy ... ... ... ... ... the REAL owners! ... The big wealthy business interests that control things ... and make all the important decisions. ... ... ... ... Forget the politicians. They are irelevant. ... ... The politicians are put there to give you the idea that you have freedom of choice . . . ... you dont. You have no choice! You have OWNERS! They OWN YOU. They own everything. They own all the important land. ... They own and control the corporations. Theyve long since bought, and paid for the Senate, the Congress, the state houses, the city halls, they got the judges in their back pockets and they own all the big media companies, so they control just about all of the news and information you get to hear. ... They got you by the balls. ... ... They spend billions of dollars every year lobbying ... . . . lobbying, ... to get what they want . . . ... Well, we know what they want. They want more for themselves and less for everybody else, but Ill tell you what they don't want . . . they don't want a population of citizens capable of critical thinking. ... ... They don't want well informed, well educated people capable of critical thinking. They're not interested in that . . . that doesn't help them. That's against their interests. That's right. ... ... They don't want people who are smart enough to sit around a kitchen table and think about how badly they're getting FUCKED by a system that threw them overboard 30 FUCKING years ago. ... ... They don't want that! You know what they want? They want obedient workers . . . Obedient workers, people who are just smart enough to run the machines and do the paperwork. ... And just dumb enough to passively accept all these increasingly shitty jobs with the lower pay, the longer hours, the reduced benefits, the end of overtime and vanishing pension that disappears the minute you go to collect it, and now they're coming for your ... Social Security money. ... ... ... They want your retirement money. They want it back so they can give it to their criminal friends on Wall Street, and you know something? ... ... ... Theyll get it . . . theyll get it all from you sooner or later cause they own this FUCKING place! Its a big club, and you ain't in it! ... ... ... ... You, and I, are not in The big club. By the way, its the same big club they use to beat you over the head with all day long when they tell you what to believe. All day long beating you over the head with their media telling you what to believe, what to think and what to buy. The table has tilted folks. The game is rigged and nobody seems to notice. Nobody seems to care! Good honest hard-working people . . . white collar, blue collar it doesnt matter what color shirt you have on. Good honest hard-working people continue, these are people of modest means . . . continue to elect these rich COCK SUCKERS who don't give a FUCK about you. They don't give a FUCK about you . . . ... they dont give a FUCK about you. .... .... They don't care about you at all . . . at all . . . at all, and nobody seems to notice. Nobody seems to care. That's what the owners count on. The fact that Americans will probably remain willfully ignorant of the big red, white and blue dick that's being jammed up their assholes everyday, because the owners of this country know the truth. Its called the American Dream, ... cause you have to be asleep to believe it . . ." George Carlin
One thing about Carlin, he was funny and he told the damned truth, but in a way we could laugh about it. It is sad that this is the truth, and this is what Thomas Jefferson warned us against.
--
"But there's a reason. There's a reason. There's a reason for this, there's a reason education SUCKS, and it's the same reason it will never ... ever ... EVER be fixed. It's never going to get any better, don't look for it, be happy with what you've got. ... ... ... BECAUSE ... THE OWNERS, OF THIS COUNTRY, DON'T WANT THAT! ... ... I'm talking about the real owners now ... ... ... ... ... the BIG owners! ... ... ... The Wealthy ... ... ... ... ... the REAL owners! ... The big wealthy business interests that control things ... and make all the important decisions. ... ... ... ... Forget the politicians. They are irelevant. ... ... The politicians are put there to give you the idea that you have freedom of choice . . . ... you dont. You have no choice! You have OWNERS! They OWN YOU. They own everything. They own all the important land. ... They own and control the corporations. Theyve long since bought, and paid for the Senate, the Congress, the state houses, the city halls, they got the judges in their back pockets and they own all the big media companies, so they control just about all of the news and information you get to hear. ... They got you by the balls. ... ... They spend billions of dollars every year lobbying ... . . . lobbying, ... to get what they want . . . ... Well, we know what they want. They want more for themselves and less for everybody else, but Ill tell you what they don't want . . . they don't want a population of citizens capable of critical thinking. ... ... They don't want well informed, well educated people capable of critical thinking. They're not interested in that . . . that doesn't help them. That's against their interests. That's right. ... ... They don't want people who are smart enough to sit around a kitchen table and think about how badly they're getting FUCKED by a system that threw them overboard 30 FUCKING years ago. ... ... They don't want that! You know what they want? They want obedient workers . . . Obedient workers, people who are just smart enough to run the machines and do the paperwork. ... And just dumb enough to passively accept all these increasingly shitty jobs with the lower pay, the longer hours, the reduced benefits, the end of overtime and vanishing pension that disappears the minute you go to collect it, and now they're coming for your ... Social Security money. ... ... ... They want your retirement money. They want it back so they can give it to their criminal friends on Wall Street, and you know something? ... ... ... Theyll get it . . . theyll get it all from you sooner or later cause they own this FUCKING place! Its a big club, and you ain't in it! ... ... ... ... You, and I, are not in The big club. By the way, its the same big club they use to beat you over the head with all day long when they tell you what to believe. All day long beating you over the head with their media telling you what to believe, what to think and what to buy. The table has tilted folks. The game is rigged and nobody seems to notice. Nobody seems to care! Good honest hard-working people . . . white collar, blue collar it doesnt matter what color shirt you have on. Good honest hard-working people continue, these are people of modest means . . . continue to elect these rich COCK SUCKERS who don't give a FUCK about you. They don't give a FUCK about you . . . ... they dont give a FUCK about you. .... .... They don't care about you at all . . . at all . . . at all, and nobody seems to notice. Nobody seems to care. That's what the owners count on. The fact that Americans will probably remain willfully ignorant of the big red, white and blue dick that's being jammed up their assholes everyday, because the owners of this country know the truth. Its called the American Dream, ... cause you have to be asleep to believe it . . ." George Carlin
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Lies...
What kind of lies to we tell ourselves and others every day?
Now, while most of us agree that lying is a bad thing, we all practice it to some degree. We will stretch the truth or fail to tell it to refrain from hurting another's feelings, either socially or professionally. The lie is the lubrication of social intercourse.
We even accept, to a certain degree, lies in our political system. We know that the person behind the podium is stretching the truth, omitting the truth, or downright lying, but we will vote for them if we like them anyway.
Honesty is the best policy. That's a familiar platitude, but a lie in itself. The truth could cost you your job, your friendships, and sometimes even your life.
I used to lay out my life like an open book in a blog. I had no desire to keep my feelings hidden. Then, a close friend mentioned to me that they found it odd that I would be so honest and open about things in my life that I should see as embarrassing. So, I killed the blog, and much of it was good reading, even if half of it was emotional tripe.
Personally, I don't see why I should find the facts of my life embarrassing. I guess it is because I have come so far without much compassion from my fellow man that I fail to see why I should care if someone looks down on me for my honesty. Then, I thought that perhaps it is not my feelings that are in question. Perhaps the reader, who might know me, would feel uncomfortable around me, having read things about me that most only say to a confessor.
I'll lay it out right now.
I was born with Autism Spectrum Disorder. Something I only recently found out about, but explains why people often feel uneasy around me. I am seen as somehow different, weird, and most people can't put their finger on why, and, since we are all fundamentally afraid of the unknown, I am shunned. It used to bother me, before I knew why, and helped fuel my clinical depression. With ASD, I am just socially inept. I can't read social cues and often make awkward social blunders, although I can fit in better with groups than I can individuals. I can go onstage, and have done so, with free flowing discourse, and rock the house, but, afterward, when people come to talk to me, they leave, somewhat baffled as to why I am not that cool guy they knew on the stage.
Thanks to an incident involving torture while serving in the Marines, I have suffered a combination of extreme anxiety and clinical depression, symptoms of PTSD. Thanks to the lack of willingness of the United States government to take responsibility, I failed to get the proper help I needed for over 16 years, and, as a result, almost died at my own hand several times in 2007. I'm currently dealing with the government to get them to take some responsibility, and give me the back pension I am entitled to, according to the guidelines of the Veteran's Administration handbook.
I used to be a heavy drinker. I don't believe in alcoholism as a disease. Self-medication is symptom of depression. I drank to escape my depression and feelings of failure. I do not drink heavily anymore. I can si down with a good bottle of beer or a nice glass of Syrah, and leave it at that. Oh, I do appreciate the occasional social-type overindulgence once in a great while but I find that I can't stand the effects it has on my middle-aged body. When I was in my twenties I could shake off the effects of a good drunk, but, these days, I don't even want to go there anymore, because I hate feeling like shit.
My final confession.
I hate people. I hate people because, by my experience, they are cruel, duplicitous, and intellectually lazy, as a group. This is not to say that there are not millions of individuals out there who are compassionate, intelligent free-thinkers, because there are, but they are drowned out by the herd. Those who wish to control the populace use the herd mentality when they posit a blatant lie which is accepted as a truth because enough people want to collectively believe. The case in point for that being Colin Powell's lecture shortly before the invasion of Iraq. We all knew it was a lie, but we, as a herd, wanted to believe, because we had been attacked, and someone had to pay.
Now, while most of us agree that lying is a bad thing, we all practice it to some degree. We will stretch the truth or fail to tell it to refrain from hurting another's feelings, either socially or professionally. The lie is the lubrication of social intercourse.
We even accept, to a certain degree, lies in our political system. We know that the person behind the podium is stretching the truth, omitting the truth, or downright lying, but we will vote for them if we like them anyway.
Honesty is the best policy. That's a familiar platitude, but a lie in itself. The truth could cost you your job, your friendships, and sometimes even your life.
I used to lay out my life like an open book in a blog. I had no desire to keep my feelings hidden. Then, a close friend mentioned to me that they found it odd that I would be so honest and open about things in my life that I should see as embarrassing. So, I killed the blog, and much of it was good reading, even if half of it was emotional tripe.
Personally, I don't see why I should find the facts of my life embarrassing. I guess it is because I have come so far without much compassion from my fellow man that I fail to see why I should care if someone looks down on me for my honesty. Then, I thought that perhaps it is not my feelings that are in question. Perhaps the reader, who might know me, would feel uncomfortable around me, having read things about me that most only say to a confessor.
I'll lay it out right now.
I was born with Autism Spectrum Disorder. Something I only recently found out about, but explains why people often feel uneasy around me. I am seen as somehow different, weird, and most people can't put their finger on why, and, since we are all fundamentally afraid of the unknown, I am shunned. It used to bother me, before I knew why, and helped fuel my clinical depression. With ASD, I am just socially inept. I can't read social cues and often make awkward social blunders, although I can fit in better with groups than I can individuals. I can go onstage, and have done so, with free flowing discourse, and rock the house, but, afterward, when people come to talk to me, they leave, somewhat baffled as to why I am not that cool guy they knew on the stage.
Thanks to an incident involving torture while serving in the Marines, I have suffered a combination of extreme anxiety and clinical depression, symptoms of PTSD. Thanks to the lack of willingness of the United States government to take responsibility, I failed to get the proper help I needed for over 16 years, and, as a result, almost died at my own hand several times in 2007. I'm currently dealing with the government to get them to take some responsibility, and give me the back pension I am entitled to, according to the guidelines of the Veteran's Administration handbook.
I used to be a heavy drinker. I don't believe in alcoholism as a disease. Self-medication is symptom of depression. I drank to escape my depression and feelings of failure. I do not drink heavily anymore. I can si down with a good bottle of beer or a nice glass of Syrah, and leave it at that. Oh, I do appreciate the occasional social-type overindulgence once in a great while but I find that I can't stand the effects it has on my middle-aged body. When I was in my twenties I could shake off the effects of a good drunk, but, these days, I don't even want to go there anymore, because I hate feeling like shit.
My final confession.
I hate people. I hate people because, by my experience, they are cruel, duplicitous, and intellectually lazy, as a group. This is not to say that there are not millions of individuals out there who are compassionate, intelligent free-thinkers, because there are, but they are drowned out by the herd. Those who wish to control the populace use the herd mentality when they posit a blatant lie which is accepted as a truth because enough people want to collectively believe. The case in point for that being Colin Powell's lecture shortly before the invasion of Iraq. We all knew it was a lie, but we, as a herd, wanted to believe, because we had been attacked, and someone had to pay.
Monday, February 8, 2010
The Big Deal About 40...
The big four zero.
Wow.
I really didn't think I'd make it here. As a matter of fact there have been countless times in my life when it should have ended right there, but, for some act of providence, it didn't. Someone said that God watches over drunks and fools, and I have been both, so maybe I was doubly protected.
Usually by 40, most people have their shit together. I've had my shit together several times only to have it brought down crumbling around my ears. I suppose that's His way of saying I was getting too cocky. He was right. Every time I had it going good, I became a douche-bag. I can't count the number of times I have had a woman call me arrogant during these times of plenty. It feels good to know you can get there, and success is an aphrodisiac to some women. In my case it was all of the wrong women, combined with an arrogant douche-bag manner.
I've moved all the way to the eastern seaboard, thousands of miles away from everything I have ever known. Do I miss the old life? Not really. Just the food. I don't miss the constant high blood pressure. I don't miss the smog. I don't miss the ghetto-birds circling the city twenty-four hours a day.
Speaking of the food, the only thing I really miss is good Mexican food, but I found the cure for that. There is a Latino community out here of primarily Mexican immigrants, with it's share of carnicerias (butcher shops), and most of these places have kitchens int he back, where if you walk in with a smattering of spanish you picked up from ordering from Roach Coaches in Los Angeles, you can come out with a damned filling meal for a low price.
One of the memorable things about my 40th birthday was when the brakes on the van failed. A brake line had burst, spraying all of the fluid out onto the rear axle, creating thick white smoke. After testing out what I had left, which was a very weak emergency brake, we decided to sy to hell with it and continue our drive to where we were going, which was a 40 minute drive into Indiana, and up a steep winding hill. We cavalierly laughed about the predicament, me proclaiming that I, "The Man With No Brakes" was going to die today. As you can see, i didn't die, but that incident created a mood of carelessness that I will always treasure. Beverly and I truly lived for those few hours. Coming back down that steep hill with no brakes and not dying was well appreciated.
Wow.
I really didn't think I'd make it here. As a matter of fact there have been countless times in my life when it should have ended right there, but, for some act of providence, it didn't. Someone said that God watches over drunks and fools, and I have been both, so maybe I was doubly protected.
Usually by 40, most people have their shit together. I've had my shit together several times only to have it brought down crumbling around my ears. I suppose that's His way of saying I was getting too cocky. He was right. Every time I had it going good, I became a douche-bag. I can't count the number of times I have had a woman call me arrogant during these times of plenty. It feels good to know you can get there, and success is an aphrodisiac to some women. In my case it was all of the wrong women, combined with an arrogant douche-bag manner.
I've moved all the way to the eastern seaboard, thousands of miles away from everything I have ever known. Do I miss the old life? Not really. Just the food. I don't miss the constant high blood pressure. I don't miss the smog. I don't miss the ghetto-birds circling the city twenty-four hours a day.
Speaking of the food, the only thing I really miss is good Mexican food, but I found the cure for that. There is a Latino community out here of primarily Mexican immigrants, with it's share of carnicerias (butcher shops), and most of these places have kitchens int he back, where if you walk in with a smattering of spanish you picked up from ordering from Roach Coaches in Los Angeles, you can come out with a damned filling meal for a low price.
One of the memorable things about my 40th birthday was when the brakes on the van failed. A brake line had burst, spraying all of the fluid out onto the rear axle, creating thick white smoke. After testing out what I had left, which was a very weak emergency brake, we decided to sy to hell with it and continue our drive to where we were going, which was a 40 minute drive into Indiana, and up a steep winding hill. We cavalierly laughed about the predicament, me proclaiming that I, "The Man With No Brakes" was going to die today. As you can see, i didn't die, but that incident created a mood of carelessness that I will always treasure. Beverly and I truly lived for those few hours. Coming back down that steep hill with no brakes and not dying was well appreciated.
The Whys and Wherefores...
It isn't enough that God gave us this wonderful thing called a sex drive, but then he had to add on to it the fallibility of falling in love.
All of my life I have sought two things. Good love and good sex. I have found plenty of the latter and none of the former. Sometimes I tried to equate the latter with the former but found that they did not seem to make good bed partners. Go figure.
A cruel trick of this thing that He gave us led me to complete and utter heartbreak, but, after so much experience with heartbreak, I guess it is something I can live with. The problem with that is assuming that one is going to live with it until he dies, given the history.
A couple of close friends of mine share something in common with me in this regard, for the moment. Both have found someone they really wanted and liked and both were summarily rejected. At least one of them did not have to go through the humiliation of constant sex with the object of their desire only to have them leave, and for that she should consider herself lucky. Both, like me, think it is all bullshit, and are afraid to try. They think it is something they did, as I did.
My experience with love led me to believe I would never find what I really sought. True love. I think I was wrong, and I think it is staring me in the face, but the inner part of me, the Great Cynic, who hates all of you, as well as I, for our foibles, tells me that it is just another pipe dream.
The Cynic could be right, but, however, the signs are there. The signs as laid down by the great romance writers of the centuries. Why shouldn't I believe the signs? I'll tell you why the Cynic doesn't. Because society is full of bullshit cliches and idealistic garbage about how things are supposed to be, and with all of this jumble of crap being pounded into our heads from the day we stepped into society with our nappy rug.
I have to wait and see. The Cynic has always been the major stockholder and with good reason. He always calls it right. I hope this time he doesn't.
All of my life I have sought two things. Good love and good sex. I have found plenty of the latter and none of the former. Sometimes I tried to equate the latter with the former but found that they did not seem to make good bed partners. Go figure.
A cruel trick of this thing that He gave us led me to complete and utter heartbreak, but, after so much experience with heartbreak, I guess it is something I can live with. The problem with that is assuming that one is going to live with it until he dies, given the history.
A couple of close friends of mine share something in common with me in this regard, for the moment. Both have found someone they really wanted and liked and both were summarily rejected. At least one of them did not have to go through the humiliation of constant sex with the object of their desire only to have them leave, and for that she should consider herself lucky. Both, like me, think it is all bullshit, and are afraid to try. They think it is something they did, as I did.
My experience with love led me to believe I would never find what I really sought. True love. I think I was wrong, and I think it is staring me in the face, but the inner part of me, the Great Cynic, who hates all of you, as well as I, for our foibles, tells me that it is just another pipe dream.
The Cynic could be right, but, however, the signs are there. The signs as laid down by the great romance writers of the centuries. Why shouldn't I believe the signs? I'll tell you why the Cynic doesn't. Because society is full of bullshit cliches and idealistic garbage about how things are supposed to be, and with all of this jumble of crap being pounded into our heads from the day we stepped into society with our nappy rug.
I have to wait and see. The Cynic has always been the major stockholder and with good reason. He always calls it right. I hope this time he doesn't.
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