Monday, August 25, 2025
Online Dating Site Profile
I enjoy women who can banter and parry in conversation. A woman who can trade burns without feeling criticisied. A dry wit and a drier martini are a perfect combination. I am interested in women over forty and will not respond to anyone who is younger. Do not send pictures of your pets. I have pets, I know what a dog or a cat looks like. I am not interested in women who are separated. I've been down that road and will not travel it again. Single, divorced, or widowed only please. Pls no Christians. I am an Agnostic and am not interested in your guilt or your salvation. I enjoy Paegans and Wicca types. If you ride a motorcycle, have lots of tattoes, or like others who do I am not interested. I do not enjoy Nascar, Monster trucks, halter tops, or Daisy Dukes. Beer is for people who's objective is too be intoxicated. Drama queens pls look elsewhere. If you like country music I will not call you. If you like long walks along the beach, watching sunsets, do that with your dog. If you drive a car that is red, I am not interested. Don't tell me you like camping. No one over the age of 40 enjoys sleeping on the ground. If you have never lived outside your home town pls do not respond. If you don't know who the B52's, The Ramones, Iggy Pop, Morphine, or Patti Smith are then we have nothing in common musically. If you can get around the City using the subway you score points. If you read Cosmo you lose points. If your toys are larger than I am it is not issue as long as you know how to use them safely. Being rushed by Emergency services to hospital with a phallus lodged in my bleeding rectum is not the perfect ending to a romantic evening. I am not interested in fathering children. I have taken measures to assure that never happens. If you hunt, sport shoot, or own firearms I recognise your Constitutional rights however I can honestly say you're an accident waiting to happen. If you are having correspondence with incarcerated felons I am not interested in meeting you. If you watch Jerry, Maury, or Montel I am apt to wonder why you aren't working, taking a class, or otherwise being productive.
Ten Years Gone
Pole vaulting off the futon after a restful night's sleep I waddled to the bathroom this morning. On returning I tuned tele to the local news to catch the weather forecast and traffic notices. I seldom pay attention to the middle-aged, greying patriarch and the bubblely twenty-something blond who are the co-anchors of Clear Channel, Anywhere, USA. Their banter however this morning hit me hard. A local double-murder being reported made me sit up and take notice. A 27 year-old man had walked into the local Sheriff's office and confessed to shooting, dismembering, and disposing of his parents in the family's septic tank.
I was reminded of my most recent sesssion with my tdoc. In that session I waltzed around my homocidal fantasies. Prefacing my remarks I explained how, as a primate, I am entitled to my homocidal flights of fancy. Rationalising is one of my strengths. My adeptness knows no limits. Being careful to couch all remarks so as to not alarm the tdoc I explained how when I am angry I return to the trauma I experienced 10 yrs years ago. Wishing to avenge the violence and injustices perpetrated upon me I told the tdoc I wanted the fuckers dead.
After assuring me that any chart notations concerning my fantasies would be minimal and that she is not going to report me to the authorities as a person of interest, my tdoc began to explain the research Marcia Linehan and her associates conducted with victims of trauma, including Holocaust survivors. The researchers had asked themselves, "Why is it that some persons get beyond a trauma and go on to live productive lives while others get 'stuck' and do not grow." The answer, Linehan reported, was what she called "Rational Acceptance". Trauma victims who recognise that there are injustices forced upon human beings sometimes have no resolution but life goes on. Healthy surviviors don't forgive and forget, they move on.
The murderer of his parents had experienced a severe trauma years earlier. It is being reported that family members said he had been involved in a pub fight some years ago and had been beaten so badly he had nearly died. They reported he "never got over it". I can't help but wonder if he had sought mental health services and why this tragedy had to occur when it was so easily preventable.
I am still intellectualising the Linehan concepts. When ready I will accept graciously and gratefully the notion that I am not a "bad" person and that I can and will put the past where it belongs. Time to move on.
I was reminded of my most recent sesssion with my tdoc. In that session I waltzed around my homocidal fantasies. Prefacing my remarks I explained how, as a primate, I am entitled to my homocidal flights of fancy. Rationalising is one of my strengths. My adeptness knows no limits. Being careful to couch all remarks so as to not alarm the tdoc I explained how when I am angry I return to the trauma I experienced 10 yrs years ago. Wishing to avenge the violence and injustices perpetrated upon me I told the tdoc I wanted the fuckers dead.
After assuring me that any chart notations concerning my fantasies would be minimal and that she is not going to report me to the authorities as a person of interest, my tdoc began to explain the research Marcia Linehan and her associates conducted with victims of trauma, including Holocaust survivors. The researchers had asked themselves, "Why is it that some persons get beyond a trauma and go on to live productive lives while others get 'stuck' and do not grow." The answer, Linehan reported, was what she called "Rational Acceptance". Trauma victims who recognise that there are injustices forced upon human beings sometimes have no resolution but life goes on. Healthy surviviors don't forgive and forget, they move on.
The murderer of his parents had experienced a severe trauma years earlier. It is being reported that family members said he had been involved in a pub fight some years ago and had been beaten so badly he had nearly died. They reported he "never got over it". I can't help but wonder if he had sought mental health services and why this tragedy had to occur when it was so easily preventable.
I am still intellectualising the Linehan concepts. When ready I will accept graciously and gratefully the notion that I am not a "bad" person and that I can and will put the past where it belongs. Time to move on.
July 25
On this date in history, 1965, Bob Dylan went electric
Artist:
Bob Dylan
Album:
Highway 61 Revisited
When you're lost in the rain in Juarez and it's Eastertime too
and your gravity fails and negativity don't pull you through
Don't put on any airs when you're down on Rue Morgue Avenue
They got some hungry women there and they really make a mess out of you
Now if you see Saint Annie please tell her thanks a lot
I cannot move, my fingers are all in a knot
I don't have the strength to get up and take another shot
and my best friend my doctor won't even say what it is I've got
Sweet Melinda, the peasants call her the goddess of gloom
She speaks good English and she invites you up into her room
and you're so kind and careful not to go to her too soon
and she takes your voice and leaves you howling at the moon
Up on housing project hill it's either fortune or fame
You must pick one or the other though neither of them are to be what they claim
If you're lookin to get silly you better go back to from where you came
because the cops don't need you and man they expect the same
Now all the authorities they just stand around and boast
how they blackmailed the sergeant at arms into leaving his post
and picking up Angel who just arrived here from the coast
who looked so fine at first but left looking just like a ghost
Now I started out on burgandy but soon hit the harder stuff
Everybody said they'd stand behind me when the game got rough
but the joke was on me there was nobody even there to bluff
I'm going back to New York City I do believe I've had enough
Artist:
Bob Dylan
Album:
Highway 61 Revisited
When you're lost in the rain in Juarez and it's Eastertime too
and your gravity fails and negativity don't pull you through
Don't put on any airs when you're down on Rue Morgue Avenue
They got some hungry women there and they really make a mess out of you
Now if you see Saint Annie please tell her thanks a lot
I cannot move, my fingers are all in a knot
I don't have the strength to get up and take another shot
and my best friend my doctor won't even say what it is I've got
Sweet Melinda, the peasants call her the goddess of gloom
She speaks good English and she invites you up into her room
and you're so kind and careful not to go to her too soon
and she takes your voice and leaves you howling at the moon
Up on housing project hill it's either fortune or fame
You must pick one or the other though neither of them are to be what they claim
If you're lookin to get silly you better go back to from where you came
because the cops don't need you and man they expect the same
Now all the authorities they just stand around and boast
how they blackmailed the sergeant at arms into leaving his post
and picking up Angel who just arrived here from the coast
who looked so fine at first but left looking just like a ghost
Now I started out on burgandy but soon hit the harder stuff
Everybody said they'd stand behind me when the game got rough
but the joke was on me there was nobody even there to bluff
I'm going back to New York City I do believe I've had enough
Brotberuf
Unwinding from the psychic foetal position I have been in recently I am reminded of Kafka's observation concerning rejection : "Anyone who cannot come to terms with his life while he is alive needs one hand to ward off a little his despair over his fate... but with his other hand he can note down what he sees among the ruins." I am keyboarding using my right hand this morning.
My employers are demanding of our production teams higher quotas for each shift. There is a great demand world-wide for the widgets we produce. Management had previously eliminated one entire production line and now realises they can't meet customer demand with the remaining lines. Hence, workers are being pushed to their limits physically and mentally. Morale is low. Rumours circulate about the operation moving overseas because of cheaper labour costs.
I operate the machine that is the linchpin of the production line for a particular in-demand widget. It is the policy of management that this machine be run 24-hours a day a minimum of 6 days a week. No preventative maintenance is performed on any machine in the plant. Management's policy is until a machine fails it is to remain online. Try driving your automobile without regular oil changes and see how long the engine lasts.
The machine I operate began to fail. It was 3 weeks before enough emails were exchanged between the Techs, the Engineers and Management until any maintenance was performed. The loss in production was for one entire shift while adjustments were made. The machine is still not functioning properly. The plant has three such machines. One that is on the production line, one that they took out of the warehouse to rob for parts, and one held in reserve in the warehouse in case the first unit needs replacing. I asked around among persons I felt were trustworthy about who I could approach with an idea I was working on. My question to my peers was, "Who can I go to with an idea who is honourable and will credit me if I suggest it?" The answer I got was,"Do not go to your Supervisors or a Tech because they will steal your idea and present it as their own. We know from experience this is what happens." I was told to go to one specific Engineer who is honest and honourable. I asked this man if I could speak to him the following day for five minutes. He was very cordial with me and we arranged to meet.
I pitched my idea to the Engineer, explained the reasoning behind it and told him that production could be doubled if the third machine was pulled from the warehouse and fabricated into a self-contained mobile unit where it could be wheeled onto any production line or set-up immediately in place if the primary unit should fail. I humbly confessed to him I was not an engineer or an expert in production. I did however explain to him my thoughts on how to build the mobile unit. The man listened intently to me keeping direct eye contact. The man is obviously extremely intelligent and I could not read him. He did not smile, did not frown, did not interrupt. His eyes were directly on mine the entire time. I finished my pitch and he said he would take it to the Boss. That was it. I thanked him, shook his hand and he walked away.
That night I shared with a bloke I trust my idea. He looked away for a moment, looked back at me and asked, "Why don't They think of these things?" I replied sardonically, "I think its because they've been here too long and no one wants to make waves. Things like this have to come from nobody's like me because we have nothing to lose". He agreed.
My employers are demanding of our production teams higher quotas for each shift. There is a great demand world-wide for the widgets we produce. Management had previously eliminated one entire production line and now realises they can't meet customer demand with the remaining lines. Hence, workers are being pushed to their limits physically and mentally. Morale is low. Rumours circulate about the operation moving overseas because of cheaper labour costs.
I operate the machine that is the linchpin of the production line for a particular in-demand widget. It is the policy of management that this machine be run 24-hours a day a minimum of 6 days a week. No preventative maintenance is performed on any machine in the plant. Management's policy is until a machine fails it is to remain online. Try driving your automobile without regular oil changes and see how long the engine lasts.
The machine I operate began to fail. It was 3 weeks before enough emails were exchanged between the Techs, the Engineers and Management until any maintenance was performed. The loss in production was for one entire shift while adjustments were made. The machine is still not functioning properly. The plant has three such machines. One that is on the production line, one that they took out of the warehouse to rob for parts, and one held in reserve in the warehouse in case the first unit needs replacing. I asked around among persons I felt were trustworthy about who I could approach with an idea I was working on. My question to my peers was, "Who can I go to with an idea who is honourable and will credit me if I suggest it?" The answer I got was,"Do not go to your Supervisors or a Tech because they will steal your idea and present it as their own. We know from experience this is what happens." I was told to go to one specific Engineer who is honest and honourable. I asked this man if I could speak to him the following day for five minutes. He was very cordial with me and we arranged to meet.
I pitched my idea to the Engineer, explained the reasoning behind it and told him that production could be doubled if the third machine was pulled from the warehouse and fabricated into a self-contained mobile unit where it could be wheeled onto any production line or set-up immediately in place if the primary unit should fail. I humbly confessed to him I was not an engineer or an expert in production. I did however explain to him my thoughts on how to build the mobile unit. The man listened intently to me keeping direct eye contact. The man is obviously extremely intelligent and I could not read him. He did not smile, did not frown, did not interrupt. His eyes were directly on mine the entire time. I finished my pitch and he said he would take it to the Boss. That was it. I thanked him, shook his hand and he walked away.
That night I shared with a bloke I trust my idea. He looked away for a moment, looked back at me and asked, "Why don't They think of these things?" I replied sardonically, "I think its because they've been here too long and no one wants to make waves. Things like this have to come from nobody's like me because we have nothing to lose". He agreed.
12 August, 30 BCE
A gentle breeze blowing in from the northwest caused a ripple on the silt-filled waters of the Delta. To the east the rising smoke from her lover's burning ships blended with the low hanging clouds. Cleo's swarthy hand draped over the port side of the barge was indistinguishable from the coffee coloured water. The Queen of Kings rested on the Persian rug that years before had been her introduction to the Roman world. Pillows made of the finest silks from the East propped her up. On her right sat a lidded reed basket of figs, their sickly sweet perfume mingled with the musky odor of death.
On shore Marc waved to her, his bronze breast plate lay at his feet of little use to him now. Weak from his wounds, Marc's voice no more than a whisper, he called to her. She could not hear him. Or she chose not to hear him. Either way, he was of no use to her now. Alone now except for the Eunuch at the helm they sailed south, away from Alexandria. At the age of 30, Cleo feeling her zenith had waned, her fate she reflected had been sealed. Her mood of despair was not a stranger to her. Many times she had faced ruin only to rebound with cunning and guile. Her intrigues and manipulations had allowed her to survive. She had no regrets. She felt no remorse. Satisfied that she had faced life's challenges she lifted the lid of the basket and reached inside.
She did not feel the first strike from the vipers. The second strike higher on her arm caused her to wince. She withdrew her arm from the basket and examined the four pin sized marks. Her royal blood oozed from the wounds. She marvelled at the colour and was reminded of the tapestries hanging in the Temple of Isis. Cleo lay back on her pillows, smiling. Drifting down her river she was home.
On shore Marc waved to her, his bronze breast plate lay at his feet of little use to him now. Weak from his wounds, Marc's voice no more than a whisper, he called to her. She could not hear him. Or she chose not to hear him. Either way, he was of no use to her now. Alone now except for the Eunuch at the helm they sailed south, away from Alexandria. At the age of 30, Cleo feeling her zenith had waned, her fate she reflected had been sealed. Her mood of despair was not a stranger to her. Many times she had faced ruin only to rebound with cunning and guile. Her intrigues and manipulations had allowed her to survive. She had no regrets. She felt no remorse. Satisfied that she had faced life's challenges she lifted the lid of the basket and reached inside.
She did not feel the first strike from the vipers. The second strike higher on her arm caused her to wince. She withdrew her arm from the basket and examined the four pin sized marks. Her royal blood oozed from the wounds. She marvelled at the colour and was reminded of the tapestries hanging in the Temple of Isis. Cleo lay back on her pillows, smiling. Drifting down her river she was home.
The Bob
I am not a praying man yet when the King of King's banner in its royal colour purple is back lighted at a show I become emotional. Bob Dylan is one of the few performing Christians I admire. My admiration is shown each time I purchase a ticket to a show, buy a CD, or listen to a scratchy LP on the turntable at home. When Bob and the band close the show with a prayer for the audience they give back to me their respect and thanks. For that and more I am grateful.
For me Bob Dylan remains an enigma. His music and writing disturbs my comfort zone. I recently described him to an acquaintance as, "A very curious man". He continues to shake me up and I like that.
Dylan's metaphysics and his Apocalyptic world view I do not share. The magnificient imagery he has created concerning his beliefs (for the most part gone unheard and unread by Secularists) rivals that of Milton and Donne. His concept of modern Evil is a Classical viewpoint. Dylan's struggles with evil in his writings gets mixed up with the Christian mythology that is the foundation of the Fundamentalist movement. Two working principles on the nature of everyday human evil I use are, one, ignoring it will generally protect one from its influences; and two, the nature of human evil is in of itself extremely weak and brainless. Dylan wants us to fight it within ourselves and against the Force he sees that surrounds us. Whether he sees himself as the standard bearer in this fight I do not know. I like to believe that like his friend, the late Allen Ginsberg, Dylan puts it out there and respects people enough to allow them to make up their own minds.
From the grey Stetson atop his head to the shine on his highly polished pointed ebony boots Bob is the consummate showman. His onstage personae I find endearing. He stands at his little synth, dances a little shuffle, blows the har-moan-i-ca, and in a sing-song phraseology recites his lyrics. After fifty years of performing in front of audiences Bob continues to do exactly what he wants. I for one am grateful that what he wants to give his audience is what I too want. I want to be entertained. I want to be lost in the imagery he creates with his lyrics. I want to be transformed by the sound the band creates. I forget the nostalgia, I forget the politics, I forget the zealotry. For two hours at each show I am unnerved by a man who lives to entertain. What the hell else can he do? Sail?
Although I am not a praying man, when His eye below the crown on the purple banner looks out over the crowd I for a few moments become aware I may be being watched. My comfort zone has been disturbed. Its not very often I allow myself the pleasure of this experience.
For me Bob Dylan remains an enigma. His music and writing disturbs my comfort zone. I recently described him to an acquaintance as, "A very curious man". He continues to shake me up and I like that.
Dylan's metaphysics and his Apocalyptic world view I do not share. The magnificient imagery he has created concerning his beliefs (for the most part gone unheard and unread by Secularists) rivals that of Milton and Donne. His concept of modern Evil is a Classical viewpoint. Dylan's struggles with evil in his writings gets mixed up with the Christian mythology that is the foundation of the Fundamentalist movement. Two working principles on the nature of everyday human evil I use are, one, ignoring it will generally protect one from its influences; and two, the nature of human evil is in of itself extremely weak and brainless. Dylan wants us to fight it within ourselves and against the Force he sees that surrounds us. Whether he sees himself as the standard bearer in this fight I do not know. I like to believe that like his friend, the late Allen Ginsberg, Dylan puts it out there and respects people enough to allow them to make up their own minds.
From the grey Stetson atop his head to the shine on his highly polished pointed ebony boots Bob is the consummate showman. His onstage personae I find endearing. He stands at his little synth, dances a little shuffle, blows the har-moan-i-ca, and in a sing-song phraseology recites his lyrics. After fifty years of performing in front of audiences Bob continues to do exactly what he wants. I for one am grateful that what he wants to give his audience is what I too want. I want to be entertained. I want to be lost in the imagery he creates with his lyrics. I want to be transformed by the sound the band creates. I forget the nostalgia, I forget the politics, I forget the zealotry. For two hours at each show I am unnerved by a man who lives to entertain. What the hell else can he do? Sail?
Although I am not a praying man, when His eye below the crown on the purple banner looks out over the crowd I for a few moments become aware I may be being watched. My comfort zone has been disturbed. Its not very often I allow myself the pleasure of this experience.
Excuse my dust
"Okay, so like there was this woman, K? And she was soooooooo funny!!!! She would like, write really cool poems about stuff. K? Like stuff about Life and guys and stuff. K? And she was like, all political and stuff, K? She wrote at a time when nobody ever talked about sex or stuff, K? This was before TV and CD's and stuff like that. Oh My God she was sooooo cool! She was from the City and like I am from Long Island so I sooooo know where she was coming from. She really speaks to me in her poems. I mean like, her stuff about guys is soooo true, K? She said that guys are like, well they'll tell you stuff, and like she warns you not to believe them. I can sooo relate to her! She also wrote about death a lot, too, K? I mean, she talked about suicide and stuff like it was an okay thing. Sometimes, like when I'm sad I think about that stuff, too, so I can relate to her, K? I mean, I don't think about it all the time but I get sad, I guess everybody does, right? So, like in her poems she also talks about being a Woman and how hard it is because like, guys are always putting you down and stuff. It really makes me mad when guys do that! And she is like, telling you guys to stop doing that! I checked online about her and she had an abortion! I mean, oh my god, like I was late once and I thought I was preggers and I thought about it, too, K? But, she was like preggers before Planned Parenthood and stuff so it was like illegal what she did, K? I mean can you imagine? Her biggest problem was that she drank a lot, k? She would get all sloppy drunk and stuff and people would be like, please don't be that way. She would drink with the guys at lunch, K? They used to meet at this restaurant in a hotel in the City and they would sit around and make fun of people. My friends and I do that, too. Oh my god! We laugh so hard sometimes! She wrote plays, too! Can you imagine writing a play? I can't altho sometimes I think I could so like be an actress in Hollywood. And that is where she went when she left the city. She got in trouble for being political because in those days if you were political people didn't like you. Its not like today where a woman can say stuff, you know, like Hillary, and people listen to you. So, she couldn't get a job for awhile after she got in trouble. And her husband killed himself, K? So sad! Anyway, that's all I have for today. I hope you check her out. She was way cool."
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