a letter from my unconscious
Cypriot!
*where are you?!?!* i don't even know why we are together, but we are, on a train to moscow. we arrive, and have tickets to see the opera. as soon as we get off the train, you disappear, with your camera. it is foggy and damp. i find my ticket in my pocket, and worry because the stub is already torn off. but i have both parts and they let me in. it's not the opera, though -- it's tori amos, playing with someone else, to a young crowd. in the middle of a song, people start joining the band onstage, two at a time, and vomiting. it is the strangest thing i have ever seen, and i leave. outside the auditorium, people are wandering around in puke-splashed clothes. the smell is awful. i don't know where our room is, but some guy tells me and i go there. your things are there, but you are gone. i pick up your phone, and see that it is full of txt msgs to men i don't know, telling them how you love them, describing some location where you say you will "make it my base, and i will soul and mate from here." what is wrong with you, i wonder? why are you so callous towards me? why did you come here with me if you didn't want to be with me?
i don't know what to do. i think that i will take your phone, throw it into the cold river, and when you return looking for it, i will tell you i don't know anything about it. we were supposed to see the onion-shaped rooftops together. and now you are gone again.
8.24.2005
8.23.2005
more horsocopic visions....
ya know, this shit rings true enough -- but it doesn't make my existence any easier.
8/23/05
Thank goodness for types like you -- you've never been afraid to be different, and it's just that quality that will help you get your radical ideas implemented. Others might be afraid to change, but you're something of a visionary and you can see which way the tide is turning before just about anyone else. You stand apart from the pack in your ability to think ahead and think about what will make things better in the long run.
8/22/05
You're rebellious, you're quirky, you're eccentric, and one of the things you're most eccentric about is your unwavering commitment on how to make this world a better place. To you it's not a corny or impractical sentiment at all, but an endlessly fascinating puzzle to be tackled over and over again. Right now you've got innovative ideas aplenty on how to improve things for everyone here on this tiny blue marble.
so, yeah -- yee-ha for people like me.
ya know, this shit rings true enough -- but it doesn't make my existence any easier.
8/23/05
Thank goodness for types like you -- you've never been afraid to be different, and it's just that quality that will help you get your radical ideas implemented. Others might be afraid to change, but you're something of a visionary and you can see which way the tide is turning before just about anyone else. You stand apart from the pack in your ability to think ahead and think about what will make things better in the long run.
8/22/05
You're rebellious, you're quirky, you're eccentric, and one of the things you're most eccentric about is your unwavering commitment on how to make this world a better place. To you it's not a corny or impractical sentiment at all, but an endlessly fascinating puzzle to be tackled over and over again. Right now you've got innovative ideas aplenty on how to improve things for everyone here on this tiny blue marble.
so, yeah -- yee-ha for people like me.
8.01.2005
being single
i don't think i ask for much. at 43, i know what i want, and what i don't want. it's the downside to being experienced, i suppose. a confession: i've never slept with anyone who i wasn't attracted to; i've only slept with a few women who i didn't care deeply for. and i've apparently never experienced that anything-on-two-legs level of horniness. i do care what you look like. i don't do the bag over the head thing. call me superficial, but i'm only being honest. and i want the same.
i want honesty in a nice package. seems a fair request: a pretty woman with a brain. (some fine examples here and here. - ed.)
but let's define pretty, because it's apparently a more subjective term than i thought. pretty is: nice hair, nice feet, interesting eyes, nice body, nice voice. good limbs. intelligent. good teeth. honest smile.
pretty is not: a sweet face on a super-sized body. an obnoxious laugh. bad teeth. bad hair. bad shoes. dressing like a mom. not dressing your age. an annoying voice. a nice personality in a road-weary package. sorry, but it just doesn't work for me.
so -- i'll continue playing with online dating sites. but i want pics before dates. and if you really really don't have one -- shame on you! -- you still might be able to coax me out to meet you, but don't be surprised if i want really specific answers to questions about your appearance beforehand. i'm just meeting too many nice people who i'm not attracted to. not that there's anything wrong with that, but i'm not made of money, and if i'm gonna take the time to come out and buy you dinner or a few upscale beverages, i'd at least like to enjoy watching you enjoy it. it's only fair.
eeh. i can hear the whining already. cut it out. i'm not hiding anything. i like pretty women. it's a preference. we all have them. clickage results from a mutually pleasurable interaction of respective preferences.
weekend notes
worked the county fair from 5-8 friday and saturday. i kinda look forward to fair season, though i may have outgrown it. it is what it is, i suppose. the busty babes still turn out, though it turns out they're mostly of mid-puberty age, and those of a more appropriate vintage tend to fall in three categories: coupled; single, but kid-laden; or white trash. oh well.
dancer notes
hung out with R. and D. a bit on saturday after the fair. place was kinda dead, but was nice to see them. the new barmaid t. seems to be warming up. R. was taking it easy, and D. wasn't drinking at all, but they were in good spirits. some guy who goes by "moon" dropped in -- a hardcore biker making his saturday night rounds of the watering holes.
one of the bouncers had to carry a. out and take her home. a's a gorgeous 18-yr-old dancer -- been there a few months. so full of energy that the other girls call her "spunky." spunky's all energy and muscle -- but for the past week or so, she's really looked like hell (for her, that is -- your average girl would still look drop-dead gorgeous if she looked anything like a.). i asked her how she was feeling, and she said she knew her sugar was low -- apparently she's diabetic. said she hasn't been sleeping well, or eating right -- no time to buy groceries, she said, so she sleeps half the day and when she wakes up, eats junk food. it's sad. she's apparently taking care of her whole family, because mom's a lost cause, or something. not that a's without her own challenges; D. mentioned that his kids are so bad about doing dishes that they only have paper plates and styrofoam cups in the house, and a. told a story about how she won't do dishes -- as a kid, her mom tried to make her do them, and she chose instead to smash plates and glasses at the wall to get rid of them instead of washing them. anyway, she stopped by to say hi, and i told her she looked tired, and she told me she felt like she was gonna pass out, and i told her i hoped she felt better, and she gave me a nice hug, kissed me on the cheek and said "thanks." about an hour later, she passed out in the dressing room. i hope she's ok.
heard that another dancer's mom's house burned down, apparently. like most of them, c's hot as hell, but a complete train wreck -- numerous kids without daddies, substance abuse, irresponsible -- the whole nine yards. i don't know how these girls are going to make it out of their 20's, let alone their 30's.
i don't think i ask for much. at 43, i know what i want, and what i don't want. it's the downside to being experienced, i suppose. a confession: i've never slept with anyone who i wasn't attracted to; i've only slept with a few women who i didn't care deeply for. and i've apparently never experienced that anything-on-two-legs level of horniness. i do care what you look like. i don't do the bag over the head thing. call me superficial, but i'm only being honest. and i want the same.
i want honesty in a nice package. seems a fair request: a pretty woman with a brain. (some fine examples here and here. - ed.)
but let's define pretty, because it's apparently a more subjective term than i thought. pretty is: nice hair, nice feet, interesting eyes, nice body, nice voice. good limbs. intelligent. good teeth. honest smile.
pretty is not: a sweet face on a super-sized body. an obnoxious laugh. bad teeth. bad hair. bad shoes. dressing like a mom. not dressing your age. an annoying voice. a nice personality in a road-weary package. sorry, but it just doesn't work for me.
so -- i'll continue playing with online dating sites. but i want pics before dates. and if you really really don't have one -- shame on you! -- you still might be able to coax me out to meet you, but don't be surprised if i want really specific answers to questions about your appearance beforehand. i'm just meeting too many nice people who i'm not attracted to. not that there's anything wrong with that, but i'm not made of money, and if i'm gonna take the time to come out and buy you dinner or a few upscale beverages, i'd at least like to enjoy watching you enjoy it. it's only fair.
eeh. i can hear the whining already. cut it out. i'm not hiding anything. i like pretty women. it's a preference. we all have them. clickage results from a mutually pleasurable interaction of respective preferences.
weekend notes
worked the county fair from 5-8 friday and saturday. i kinda look forward to fair season, though i may have outgrown it. it is what it is, i suppose. the busty babes still turn out, though it turns out they're mostly of mid-puberty age, and those of a more appropriate vintage tend to fall in three categories: coupled; single, but kid-laden; or white trash. oh well.
dancer notes
hung out with R. and D. a bit on saturday after the fair. place was kinda dead, but was nice to see them. the new barmaid t. seems to be warming up. R. was taking it easy, and D. wasn't drinking at all, but they were in good spirits. some guy who goes by "moon" dropped in -- a hardcore biker making his saturday night rounds of the watering holes.
one of the bouncers had to carry a. out and take her home. a's a gorgeous 18-yr-old dancer -- been there a few months. so full of energy that the other girls call her "spunky." spunky's all energy and muscle -- but for the past week or so, she's really looked like hell (for her, that is -- your average girl would still look drop-dead gorgeous if she looked anything like a.). i asked her how she was feeling, and she said she knew her sugar was low -- apparently she's diabetic. said she hasn't been sleeping well, or eating right -- no time to buy groceries, she said, so she sleeps half the day and when she wakes up, eats junk food. it's sad. she's apparently taking care of her whole family, because mom's a lost cause, or something. not that a's without her own challenges; D. mentioned that his kids are so bad about doing dishes that they only have paper plates and styrofoam cups in the house, and a. told a story about how she won't do dishes -- as a kid, her mom tried to make her do them, and she chose instead to smash plates and glasses at the wall to get rid of them instead of washing them. anyway, she stopped by to say hi, and i told her she looked tired, and she told me she felt like she was gonna pass out, and i told her i hoped she felt better, and she gave me a nice hug, kissed me on the cheek and said "thanks." about an hour later, she passed out in the dressing room. i hope she's ok.
heard that another dancer's mom's house burned down, apparently. like most of them, c's hot as hell, but a complete train wreck -- numerous kids without daddies, substance abuse, irresponsible -- the whole nine yards. i don't know how these girls are going to make it out of their 20's, let alone their 30's.