Gotta agree with that!

Dear St. Mary M.,

As you well know, I spend a great deal of my time being a bit of a Craigslist hoo. Don’t judge! And dearest Mary, if there is anyone I would image would never judge, it would be you.

Most of the time the gentlemen I meet are little more than a wee bit of quick fun; but on occasion there is a guy who makes his way to my bed who (for whatever reason) ignites within me a deep seated desire to see him again. There was such man who I encountered about a month ago who has left me with such a longing.

A. answered an ad that I posted looking for a little fun within a particular context that I enjoy the sordid details of which I shall spare you as they are somewhat irrelevant. The day he pinged me I had already lined up some fun. However, the photos included in his response as well as the curiously friendly tone of his words intrigued me and I sent him a quick note inquiring as to whether he might be free in future. He confirmed that indeed he’d be up for another time as he wasn’t merely looking for some fun that day.

I was heartened by his response.

Several days later I pinged A. and inquired as to whether he might be available that day for a little romp between the sheets. Shortly thereafter, he responded to the affirmative that he was available and indeed continued to be interested in a little fun. Roughly two hours later, I opened the front door of my apartment to greet a gentleman who in short, knocked my socks off.

He could not be more stereotypically the kind of guy to whom I’m physically attracted. A. stands about 6’2” and weights about 210 pounds with a sexy-as-hell stocky build. He has the most amazing blue eyes and dark curly hair. But the thing I find the most attractive about him is his shy, reserved and somewhat socially awkward personality.

I could tell from the moment he initially stepped into my apartment the boy had the potential to be trouble.

The first time we were together was typically what one would imagine it would be like for two strangers hooking up on the interwebs for a little random quick sex. There was the excitement of having sex with someone new. A little bit of the nervousness that’s associated with the same. And while I enjoyed our initial romp in the hay, it was the second time he came over that I really enjoyed myself with him more. And tho’ the second time he came over was a bit briefer than the first due to him being in his words—overcommitted, there seemed to be more of a connection between us than that of just a sexual nature. Mostly due to his being a little more open and relaxed while we were playing around.

The second time he came over he did the funniest thing that he did the first time he was here. After getting undressed, he just stood at the end of the bed naked almost as though he was a bit lost and unsure of what he was supposed to do. During our initial foray, I jokingly said, “Okay sweet thing. Get that sexy ass of yours in the bed.” But this most recent time rather than jokingly guiding him to get his naked ass into the bed, instead, I quickly undressed my self; slide up behind him; and wrapped my arms around his chest while thrusting my pelvis into his ass cheeks.

“Ummm. Nice.” I murmured as I did this while he let out the slightest moan.

Knowing that he enjoys nipple stimulation, I took my arms from around his chest and began to stroke both his nipples in light circles and flicked them ever so gently. As I did this, he let himself relax and fall back into me nearly knocking us over. As he lifted his body slightly to regain his balance, I adjusted my stance so as to be able to support his weight leaning against me. He let go once again, and fell back into me with his back resting against my chest. When he settled into place I once again began to explore the front side of his body, stroking his chest, stomach, and finally working my way down toward his manhood as it began to twitch and engorge with excitement.

I was in heaven as I was for the next 40 minutes.

In an email exchange with my friend J. this week, I mentioned the latest encounter with A., how much I enjoyed it (both he and his sweet pecker), and how much I hope to have more like it in the future. I also explained that there is one little thing about him that kind of disturbs me. And that’s the fact that he reminds me a great deal of MMRFRO. She sent me the most wonderful reply warning me to be careful.

And I am mindful of the fact that I need to heed her words.

While it’s extremely difficult for me to do, I’m trying not to project into the future with him but rather relax and enjoy myself. Enjoy the moments together with him when we’re able to find them and just let things unfold naturally on their own. It’s funny this last time as we were trying to find a time that works he was being somewhat tentative. And rather than get frustrated and fire off my typical “Would you make up your fucking mind!” kind of response. I merely said that if we could make it work that day great, and if not there would always be another time. And for a change I really meant it, I wasn’t saying those words to merely sound all Zen and free spirited.

I’m just hoping I can continue to keep the low-key attitude with him. It’s hard though as I’d love nothing more than to talk with him everyday and get to know him better. However, I get the distinct feeling that would be far too overwhelming for him. So I need to take it slow and let things develop without feeling the need to rush things along.

Ghoti get me some more of that as soon as I can I must say!

Can you give Rita big hug for me?

Who can lift my luggage?

Dearest St. Monica,

I had the most curious and disturbing exchange with an individual who has now been placed on the former friend list. M. is a gentleman who I met shortly after I got into Al-Anon many years ago. Shortly after our meeting there were couple of circumstances that developed which lead me to believe the friendship was not going to be an easy one. But given I was new to the program and thought seeking friends within the 12 step community might assist me in my quest for healing, I made the decision to keep investing the time and energy into the relationship.

The results were decidedly mixed.

While there were moments that M. had the ability to be very charming, entertaining and fun to be around. Most of the time, to be blunt, he was merely just a pill. He did what I’ve watched so many other guys do in recovery, in that he used recovery as a tool to become ever more dysfunctional rather than heal from the wounds of his past.

Which meant rather than being as is taught in the program, self-focused and self-reliant, he became self-centered and self-absorbed. His needs became all important above those of others. Each time we were to get together it became an endless and tedious session of negotiation and re-negotiation to make sure that M.’s needs were being met, and everyone else’s be damned.

As we were initially establishing our friendship, I thought I was doing the right thing by being accommodating and always taking his needs into account first when making decisions. And while on some level I knew he was being a passive-aggressive control freek, I often overlooked the behavior and rather than cut him loose as a friend and instead worked to find a common ground in our mutual love of music and movies.

However eventually as with many relationships the common ground could not sustain the friendship.

As the years went by, I began to watch M. make decisions that were less and less in his best interest. However, I knew that trying to provide any feedback at that time in an attempt to guide him toward understanding what he was doing would have proved to be a fruitless effort. So I refrained.

Through final few years of our friendship M. became ever more inflexible and nearly impossible to deal with on most occasions. And again, at that point rather than cut my loses in the friendship, I stuck with it thinking that perhaps there come a point that he’d bottom out and then perhaps gain some awareness of his behavior.

I received a letter a couple of weeks ago from him in which he shared some rather disturbing revenge fantasies he’d had about this boss and a contentious relationship that developed between she and him a couple of years ago. Apparently he became so consumed with the revenge fantasies to the point he began to make careless mistakes and was nearly fired as a result. While it was troubling to read about his experience, it sounded as if he might have finally bottomed out through the process and perhaps gained some awareness about himself.

However, as I read the rest of the letter it became obvious that this was not the case. Instead the experience became yet another opportunity for him to believe himself a victim. And the situation with his boss ignited within him the need to confront his family about various abuses he believes perpetrated upon him. All of which appears to have culminated in him believing himself one of the persecuted.

While I was initial somewhat shocked and horrified by the letter. As I read through it several times thereafter, it merely annoyed me. It annoyed because it was obvious that it was just another attempt by M. to elicit pity and continue to manipulate our friendship in a passive aggressive manner.

So I fired back with a letter and in it I let him have it. I made it clear to him that I understood what he was doing and why he was doing it. And but of course in true professional victim fashion he sent me an email when he received it claiming that I was being abusive and that he no longer wished to hear from me. It took all the self control I had to not fire back with a reply asking him why on Earth he’d think I’d actually *want* to speak with him again.

So while there is a part of me that’s quite happy to have dumped the baggage of our dysfunctional friendship. There is also a part of me that feels very conflicted about it. Conflicted in the sense that it’s so incredibly sad that M. continues to live a life of struggle and suffering. A level of suffering of which he’s not even aware and most likely will never gain an awareness of for that matter. And I guess what bothers me is that I had wished that I might help him to come an understanding about it. But it’s quite obvious he has little desire to work toward the discovery of such.

That’s one of the things I find so difficult with my spiritual journey. The fact that I have to accept there are those individuals in the world who enjoy needless suffering and feel it their place to create it for others as well.

I used to be one of them.

Give a bit hug to Rita for me?

Let's avoid the massacre shall we?

Dearest St. Valentine,

I really ghoti get a life. It’s been nary a week since I’ve written a letter in this blog, yet so much has happened. When I first started toying with subject heading for this letter I had a completely different intention for it. However, as often happens in life it seems the cosmos has conspired with someone (and I would love to know whom) to release some major energy blockages and perhaps catapult me forward toward a quantum leap. While I look forward to the ride, I’m feeling a little unsure at the moment. However, if anyone should know that it’s all about the journey and the need to stay committed to one’s spiritual development, it would be you right?

But let me offer an explanation.

I’ve been having trouble with the residual energetic attachments that remain between D. and myself. I have been avoiding letting them go because I’ve so desperately wanted a reconciliation and possible reunion with him. I know, I know, you most likely would counsel me as the rest of my friends might that such a thing is most likely not in my best interest. I agree, however, I was listening to a favorite podcast last week and heard the most interesting story.

It was an interview with a woman who’s written about her own personal journey a part of which was being a care giver with an Alzheimer’s patient who because of her disease became very difficult to manage and required more care than her husband could provide. It was an experience that became a transformative one for her and facilitated a deeper spiritual understanding. She’s written a memoir about the experience in which she also shares tips in dealing with difficult people and situations.

And since I could sorely use the same myself, I was enraptured as I listened to her story.

This got me to thinking about what happened between D. and myself and the resulting karma. That karma has begun to cause me some serious issues as of late. This due to the fact that I believe I want to start dating again. However, I seriously don’t trust myself as a result of what happened between he and I. As I have considered what might help me let go of these final vestiges of the hurt that remain between he and I came to realize the answer to that quandary is pretty obvious. It’s forgive him.

However, with nearly everything that is associated with my life, it’s going to be a complicated escape trick to pull off. Why? Because I don’t have access to do this process with him in real time. I have to on my own figure out some kind surrogate method to release the energy and ties all on my own.

As I shared in a letter with my friend J., it can be effective and will do the job. It just seems to take so much longer because it takes twice as much energy. And then I start getting angry all over again because I’m having to do it all alone. It’s extremely frustrating.

So along those lines, I have begun the surrogate process toward healing myself from what happened between D. and myself. The first step was one that has the unfortunate side effect of creating a great deal of anxiety because I decided to send D. yet another one of my quasi-stalker-ish letters. I did so because I felt the need to a. directly relate to him as much as I might what happened from my perspective and the effects of his behavior upon me and b. to make him aware of the fact that I’m beginning the process toward healing and that part of this healing will include creative pursuits which can be accessed by the public and will include him as subject matter.

I did my best in the letter to approach the subject in as non-threatening a manner and with as much humor as possible. Well, as much as one might when playing the role of a stalker. However, there is always the question of intent versus interpretation and as I joked with J. it creates an anxiety in that I begin to wonder if the po po are going to be busting down my door at any moment. I don’t think it will happen nor do I believe that I will hear from D. directly either.

However, what’s most important is that I not lose energy around forgiving D. I have come to realize that either my lack of forgiving him or thinking prematurely that I had done so has begun to affect me in more ways than I’ve previously thought. And I came to realize this the other day with a friend who ironically has the same name.

We got together for lunch and little fun recently and when we got the fun portion of the program I couldn’t perform, shall we say.

It really bothered me.

As we talked it through I explained to him that I’ve been burned by several guys over the past few years a couple of which left some pretty considerable scar tissue. I also went on to explain that I’m having trouble finding a way to heal from the experiences appropriately. And being the kind of individual who has the ability to share keen insights he offered that perhaps the first step is in acknowledging that the scars are there. “And that my dear…” I began my reply jokingly, “is the crux of the issue.”

So, I have acknowledged the scars to myself and to the individual who created them. While I may or may not have the opportunity to buff them out with him. I will do my best to work toward their removal, and I hope through the process learn to be more available to myself and to others. And if I’m fortunate, perhaps I will reach a level of ascendency close to yours. However, I’d like to avoid the beating and beheading if you don’t mind?

Sending you much love.

Ghoti get outta this place

Dear Ms. Post,

My home town has recently received an award of dubious distinction. One I’m not sure of which you would approve. And one that I as a native of the area understand why we’ve achieved such standing, but find this certain achievement to be yet another example of why I’m finding it more and more difficult to live here presently.

You see Ms. Post, Washington, DC is now third on the list of rudest city in the good old USA. Topped only by New York and Miami. That’s right even Beantowners are generally less rude than folk here inside the beltway. This is a fact that leaves me feeling both bemused and extremely sad. Mostly due to the fact that I’ve been watching people in this area get more and more jaded, cold and now rude over the past decade.

It’s a situation that has me feeling more and more each day that the time has come that I ghoti get outta here. I had a couple of interactions with fellow inhabitants of the building where I work yesterday that pretty much confirmed this fact for me.

The first happened as I was entering the building. I typically enter through the back door as it’s easier and less of a distance to walk from the lot where I park that is adjacent to my building. As I entered the building yesterday, I surfed in behind a guy who I see several times a week. Tho’ he’s shorter and stockier, he reminds me a great deal of MMRFRO. He typically has that familiar pained look on his face as so many do in DC, including the aforementioned, that lets one know that he’d rather not be forced into speaking with anyone.

As one walks through the corridor which leads from the backdoor to the elevator banks in this building there is a set of double doors, which is quite common for the kind of building where the offices of my company are located. The gentleman in question was walking through those doors just as I approached them. He held the door open just enough to keep it from slamming on me as I approached. As I always do when someone holds the door for me, I said “Thanks” and smiled. He of course shot me a look as if to say, “Why are you are you even speaking to me?”

I chuckled to myself as I stopped to wait for the service elevator and the gentleman in question continued onto the main lobby.

The other incident happened as I was leaving my building yesterday. Rather than take the elevator in the evening, I usually take the back staircase so that I can easily exit by the back door as well. I did as I typically do and when I got to the third floor landing a young woman came busting through the door. Thank God I had already turned the corner on the landing and was on my way down the next set of stairs rather than on the landing itself or she would have knocked me over. She proceeded to follow me down the stairs, hot on my heels, her heels clacking and echoing through the stairwell with each step. And though she was annoying the hell out of me, as I exited the stairwell, I held the door open for her to exit. As she did so, she literally turned her face to the side so as not to have to look at me. And a thank you for holding the door? I certainly didn’t get that from her.

Of course my first thought was WTF?

Oh but there’s more. As I was walking through the corridor that’s literally just big enough for two people to barely fit, she pushed her way around me, and didn’t even bother to attempt to apologize. I was floored.

Once I got outside I thought, it’s frikken time to get the hell out of this town.

As I walked to my vehicle, I considered this thought at greater length. It’s not just the higher than average concentration of rudeness in DC that has precipitated this sudden and deep feeling of wanderlust within me. More than anything it’s gotten to the point with me that I derive little or no joy from living in the this area anymore. And it’s not like I ever really have for that matter. I’ve stayed in DC because it’s my home town and my family is here. But other than that I could very easily just say AMF to this place and move on out.

Of course the question is why haven’t I?

I think that answer to that one is the all too familiar F word—fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of failure, and perhaps even some fear of the fact that I might actually be able to find some happiness somewhere (anywhere) else than here.

So today I begin to work toward letting go of the fear. And start making the plan.

Give a big hug to Tennessee for me.

Duck, Duck, Ghoti

Dearest Mr. Perrault,

First let me say that I’m huge fan of your work. I’ve been reading and enjoying your tales since I was a wee thing. And I must tell you these days, my life seems to unfold as a tale fantastical to rival any told by your dear Mother Goose. And speaking of goosed, I also have to say I myself am feeling as though I’m in involved in some sort of cosmic game of duck, duck, goose or probably far more aptly—duck, duck, ghoti.

But let me see if I might properly explain.

The weirdness began on Saturday as this latest round of solar flares and CMEs were brewing here in our solar system.

Saturday I headed out to Leesburg to give a massage to the partner of a lovely gentleman who is a professional peer of my cousin. She ever so sweetly provided a word of mouth recommendation when he mentioned he was looking for someone to provide a birthday massage for his partner. While I didn’t realize it when I checked the hits to the biddy-biddy-blog that morning, there was one that was sticky with quantum threads to the aforementioned activity later that day.

When I checked the hits to the b-b-blog that morning before heading out to Leesburg, I noticed there was one at 08:16:00 the result of a rather odd keyword combination—one I’ve seen before—”hubba hubba”. While I chuckled at the sight of the words, I didn’t explore much further as I was pressed for time and needed to get out the door on time and on the road to my appointment.

It was after I arrived home, I discovered the rather curious quantum connection between the keywords and the day’s events.

After returning from Leesburg, I decided to do a quick look-see to the b-b-blog stats and examine the keyword hit from earlier a little more closely as I waited for my pizza to be delivered. When I did an IP search of the hit I discovered it had come from a suburb of Tampa, FL—Temple Terrace. I didn’t think much of it. However, when I plugged the GPS coordinates into g-maps the hair on the back of my neck stood up.

The hit came from a residence on Linda Street. The car that’s parked smack dab and right out in front of the house? A silver RAV4 that’s identical to the one I bought that originated in FL!

It was about that moment, I began to think the spooks may be once again sniffing my line. However, it was three days later, I became nearly sure.

Yesterday evening I once again received a hit to the b-b-blog with the keyword hit “hubba hubba”. Upon seeing this particular hit I thought to myself, quite out loud, “WTF?” However, it was after doing the IP look up and plugging in the GPS coordinates that I once again heard the theme from The Twilight Zone cue up from an unknown source (as often does happen in my life on more than one occasion).

Why did I suddenly hear TTZ theme? The area of South Carolina from where the hit originated is a town known as Goose Creek. The area of Leesburg I was in just three days prior in my loverly Silver RAV? Goose Creek! And what’s next to this town? Naval Weapons Station Charleston which houses the Strategic Weapons Facility. Can you say spook city?

And it gets even weirder. When I zoomed in on the house from where the hit originated, it has a flag pole in front of it. There was one flag on the pole that caught my attention, that of the USMC.

I had a gentleman over this evening for a little fun. I’ve been talking with him for a few days via email. As we were talking what did I discover about him? But that he’d been in the service. Which one? The Marines!

I nearly fell out of the bed from stifling my laughter when he told me this.

If all of this isn’t weird enough, I made an unrelated discovery last evening that’s nearly as strange.

For whatever reason, I once again found myself doing google searches related to MMRFRO. In doing so, I discovered that he’d written a weird and random “review” for a compact fluorescent light bulb that he’d purchased from Amazon. Of course, my first thought was who the fuck writes a review about CFLs? But after a moment of considering the source, I realized it’s just the kind of thing he’d do. He really is that odd.

Once I recovered from the initial bemusement of this finding, a little something, something bubbled up from my subcon. There was an email sent to a VP at my company late last year ostensibly outing me as Satan. One of the more cryptic parts of that email was a statement that claimed I use “cakes and grapes and light bulbs” as part of whatever juju I’m supposedly slamming on my co-workers.

I’ve always wondered if there might be some connection between MMRFRO and that email given it was sent shortly after I’d sent him a card in the mail. While there may not be any real time physical connection between the two. It certainly appears there’s some kind of crazy virtual/quantum/collective conscious connection with the two things.

Just not sure the consciousness of whom or what it might be.

I read the most interesting fact earlier. It appears CMEs can affect one’s mood. I had to chuckle when I read this as I’ve been highly irritable the past several days, and couldn’t quite put my finger on what the cause. Now I know. Another thing I’ve read/heard is that the electromagnetic energy also affects manifestation. It’s supposed to increase manifesting energy, thereby increasing one’s abilities to manifest. Which  means of course one has to be very careful about their thoughts and what they put out to the universe, eh?

Guess I best watch myself the next couple of days.

Please give my regards to Mr. Einstein.

Great Ghoti's Ghost

Dearest Mr. Babbage,

I believe I have mentioned to you on more than one occasion, I have the queerest hobby (if you will) of watching the various hits to ye olde biddy, biddy blog and locations from where they originate. Well in that regard, I had a few interesting hits the first week of last month which have left me feeling as though it’s ghost town ghoti all up in joint. Which couldn’t be more apropos as I couldn’t be feeling more a ghost of my former self currently. However, let me see if I might properly explain and let me start with the hits.

On February 6th I got the strangest succession of hits to the b-b-blog beginning at 11:07:13. The hits came in a rather rapid succession, at the following times and from the following locations:

Eight hits in roughly one minute. All of them hitting on this page, a letter, I wrote to MMRFRO concerning the first movie he and I went to see together after our first meeting each other—Ghost Town.

Then about two hours later the b-b-blog received seven more hits from the following locations:

A total of 15 hits within a 3 hour period. If it weren’t for the fact that no one would have the reason to do such, I’d almost think it was a coordinated effort to hit the blog in such a fashion. And as to why I’ve concluded the hits to the b-b-blog were somewhat a portent of my mood to come?

As of late, I truly have begun to feel as though I’m a ghost of my former self. It’s most likely related to any number of disparate situations and circumstances. So let me start at the top of the list, work my way down, and see if I might tie all the thoughts together into some kind of meaningful and cohesive narrative.

Roughly three weeks ago now, I had an extremely difficult moment at the day gig. I was involved in a pressure cooker project which in the end (as I knew it would), got way out of control. And unfortunately in the process, I dropped a couple of balls. One of which was very visible to an external client, the other not so visible but merely sloppy. However, being the type of individual who at times can fall into the trap of perfectionism. I *really* hate to make errors and I truly dislike sloppy ones.

The errors left me feeling somewhat deflated. The situation was not ego crushing mind you, just annoying and it’s led me once again to evaluate my professional life and the changes I obviously need to be considering (and making) to get myself back on track if I’m to continue doing the kind of work I do in regard to the trading hours for dollars scenario. While I like the core group of individuals with whom I work and interact on a daily basis, I’m truly beginning to question my ability to work within the larger organization that is the company of my current employ.

When I was recruited back to my group by my former boss who’s since retired, the company was owned by a different parent company who for the most part left us alone to do our thing, took a cut of the profit we made and everyone was pleased in the happy valley.

Regretfully, the happy valley exists no more. The current parent company is extremely inefficient. Appears to have a rather stark myopic view of our business sector and little understanding of customer requirements, wants and needs. And rather than focus on ways to find alternative streams of income within the existing market would rather chase rainbows and seeks non-existent pots of gold—no doubt guarded by rather overprotective leprechauns.

I often joke with my co-workers that I give it 5 years before our division is belly up due to mismanagement and performance-related inadequacies. Which means I have a timeline of about 2 years to get my act together and find some other source of income myself.

Unfortunately, it’s not just my professional life that blows presently. I find myself once more at place of feeling extremely frustrated in regard to the prospect of romance, dating, and possibly finding a relationship.

There is a part of me that very much wants to be in a relationship. However, after doing a great deal of soul-searching about it, I’ve come to realize that after having been burned by MMRFRO (and several other guys within the short period prior to the dysfunctional dance in which he and I engaged) I’ve been left with a very bleak inability to trust. While it’s been three years, and while one would believe it’s well past the point the scars should have healed, they haven’t.

If I’m I really, really honest with myself, I’m not even close to being able to trust anyone enough to become involved in a romantic relationship. And while I would love to blame MMRFRO and the other damaged individuals with whom I became entangled, I can’t. Why? Because going into those situations, in every case, there were very distinct signs of there being something wrong.

I chose to ignore the signs and got burned in the process. A simple case of cause and effect. But of course, where affairs of the heart are concerned logic and reason provide little more than cold comfort.

And the situation which the feels the most to me like a specter of its former self is that of my apartment. Spring is rapidly bearing down here in the nation’s capital. And while I look forward to the nicer weather and the ability to get outside, I’m not looking forward to the associated noise of the environmental systems housed above my unit. The noise has become unbearable and I’m sure it will be no better this year.

Which means the long battle with the board of directors to get it rectified will begin once again. It’s a situation with which I’ve grown extremely tired of dealing with and honestly don’t feel like having to be bothered with it right now. But I must. I’m thinking my best bet will be to hire a lawyer to handle it for me, and leave it at that rather than have to waste my own time with it.

So this weekend as much as I don’t feel like dealing with it, I begin the process of writing the letters to management company to get all of the issue with my unit corrected as I work my way toward selling the apartment and get out of this dump of a condo that I made the unfortunate decision to buy into.

Would you happen to know a good Exorcist (and/or lawyer) I might call upon?

Fly Ghoti Fly

Dearest Mr. Audubon,

I received the oddest hit to the biddy biddy blog that in some strange way was connected with you. Not that this is a big surprise, I say this due to the fact if there’s anyone in the history of the good of U, S of A I might feel is a kindred spirit it would be you. Your dedication and contribution to the field of ornithology is nothing short of awe-inspiring. And the body of work in your illustrations of birds of American are much the same.

Now as to how you have ended up a part of the cosmic soup that have been hits to the b-b-blog over the past couple of days.

Yesterday I received a hit from Zurich, the result of the keyword search “wounded bird syndrome”. Which returned the following letter I wrote to B. in January of 2010 with regard to my tendency to get involved with guys who would stereotypically be considered broken or damaged in some way. They are the kind of guys who have zero self-esteem and often view themselves as being victimized by life and blame anyone and everything for how their lives have turned out rather than accepting responsibility for their choices and actions. In other words, they’re typically the kind of guy who’s a pill to deal with and who could easily be called high maintenance. For whatever reason, it seems to be my karma to be attracted to such guys and I’m truly flypaper for them. So it would seem I’m an ornithologist of a different kind.

But I digress.

Then this morning, I received a hit to the b-b-blog a result of the keyword search “joker’s card.” When I did the search on the IP for the origin of the hit it came from an area of Camden, NJ called what? Audubon. Coincidence? I think not!

In a strange ironic twist, I believe I may have had a close encounter with such a gentleman the other day, a perfect specimen of the WBS. You see, on Wednesday I was in a bit of a horny way, so I posted on Craigslist to see if I might line up a little booty-licious fun for after work. And indeed, I did strike gold with a sweet and adorable Venezuelan gentleman who dropped over after he got off work for a little fun in the sack.

However, it was another gentleman with whom I struck up an on-line conversation I believe may have been a close encounter with the not so rare species which seems to flock my way. Shortly after I received the initial message from my Venezuelan hook up, I got a message from a gentleman who I will call A. and who described himself as, 6’1″, an athletic 230 lbs, and with strong legs and ass (from running). Of course, this being just the kind of guy I like, I was immediately intrigued.

I sent him a message back to let him know that while I was very interested in what he had to offer, I had someone on the hook for the evening. He responded to let me know if my prospective ended up a no-show to let him know and he’d surely be on his way over. Shortly thereafter, I received confirmation that my gentleman caller was on his way and I pinged A. to let him know that my prospective was a go and didn’t want to leave him hanging.

He then did what I’ve found so many others guys do, which is exhibit a rather odd manifestation of decision theory—difference regret—in the following email exchange.

A: Ok. How often do you do this?

EG: Qualify this. Hook up on CL or pleasure another guy’s bottom?

A: Pleasure another guy’s bottom. For me it’s about fulfillment .

EG: I enjoy (and do) pleasure another guy’s bottom whenever the opportunity presents itself, through whatever circumstance. Whether it’s a regular FB (or a random hook up via the internets). Like with anything in life it ebbs and flows. There are some weeks I provide pleasure to another (and with a little luck am pleasured in return once or twice). And often times there are many weeks in between I pleasure myself.

In what respect and circumstance are you seeking to be fulfilled? Fulfillment comes in many forms and in many ways. For me, it’s most important to be mindful of enjoying each and every moment and to not allow myself to wander into subjectivity too much in regard to the experience(s).

Most days my inner Buddha cringes. Thankfully he’s very forgiving.

A: I hear you. Fulfillment to me is a mind and body experience that begins with a need . That need requires an acceptance of who you are and what it takes to make you happy. Wow I wish I was there.

EG: LOL. I hear you sweet thing. ‘Tis a daily struggle.

Hope we’re able to talk more about it up close and personal, in real time, some time soon (if you’re up for it).  Before of after the needs are met <g>.  Jus’ le’me know.

‘Til then, travel well…

At the conclusion of this exchange, I thought WTF? How did this guy go from pinging me on CL for a little NSA sexual fun to needing to find acceptance and happiness? And but of course it pushed my buttons in a major way.

The next morning I did a reverse look up on the phone number he provided me to find out where he might live. I attempted to send him encouraging TXT messages to the phone number he provided, but in a moment of cosmic irony (or care by the Universe) I sent them to the wrong number and had a brief telephonic encounter with a with a hetero Jesus freak who no doubt wondered WTF was in the water supply (or my breakfast cereal) on Thursday morning. I sent A. an email later that evening to share what happened, and I’ve yet to hear back from him and this is no surprise.

However, the whole experience has left me feeling rather at odds at the moment. And it’s A.’s postulation about fulfillment that really has me betwixt and between as if I’m rigorously honest with myself, I’m really feeling pretty unfulfilled these days. It’s a combination of a lot of things.

As I was talking with M. last night she shared the thought that when one is working spiritually and spending a great deal of time with such pursuits the mundane loses a great of it’s meaning and it can be difficult to make that transition. After she shared this, I told her that’s exactly what I’m feeling right now. I’ve become so frustrated and exhausted with having to deal with the tedium and minutiae related to the existence known as human and interacting with my fellows.

I have little understanding why more guys can’t relax, open up, and enjoy the ride. It really can be a great deal of fun if one allows it.

Sad really.

Okay, I think the spooks are tapping the line again. As I’ve been sitting here typing this letter to you, I received a hit to the b-b-blog from the keyword search “youtube ghoti someday” in Safari Mobile. From where did it originate? Mézidon, France. In an area, by looking at it in google maps, that is way out in the middle of bum f*ck. And a part of the road is named what? Rue Emile Zola. Of course, you know the wonderful cosmique quantum connection here is that Mr. Zola was a writer who was instrumental in the forming of the naturalist style and was born roughly 11 years before your death.

Methinks the universe is toying with me once again.

Can you do me a favor and ask Mr. Houdini to get in touch?

Gone ghoti gone

Dearest Mr. Babbage,

The past couple of weeks have been rather interesting, both in the so called real world of my daily existence and in this little corner of cyberspace which is my own claim staked in the virtual world. But let me see if I might properly explain.

The last couple of weeks had been a bit of a killer as I worked a great deal of overtime on a project that had a drop dead date the middle of last week. Unfortunately, I was working with a team who is notorious for dragging their feet and never meeting any kind of deadline that has been set for them. And of course, as I knew it would, as always happens, the process got way out of control before we finished the project. However everything was submitted on time and with fewer hassles than I expected.

Through that process I was unable to keep up with much of anything else, much less my favorite hobby of IP-spotting the traffic to the biddy, biddy, blog. However, once I was able to hang up the gone ghotin’ sign and check the web stats I discovered some rather interesting hits that followed my submersion in the chaos of the day gig.

On Thursday, I got the most curious hit to the b-b-blog from a rather unusual keyword combination and an evermore usual location (at least according to the geo-location of the associated IP address). The keyword combination was “does john fire lame deer express ambivalence towards sacred power”. The associated hit was to a letter I’d written to B. in January of 2010 in regard to my frustration with being so strongly connected with the trickster archetype. What was rather spooky about the hit is that the geo-location on the IP address showed approximately a block away from my office. And the hit to the blog was at 9:23 on the morning I was wrapping up the project that I’d been working on non-stop for several days and packaging up for delivery. What’s funny about the keyword search and associate hit is that while I was feeling very ambivalent at that moment it wasn’t in relation to any sort of power (sacred or otherwise).

It was really more the opposite. What I was struggling with in the moment wasn’t the ambivalence I feel about being so strongly connected to all things sacred (including the trickster), but more having to deal with all that is profane regarding my daily existence on this earthly plane and all tedium associated with it. As I find, it’s so often the quote/unquote real world with which I have a far more difficult time coping. But alas, that is what it means to be human and it’s something we all have to deal with on a daily basis, as difficult as it may be at any moment.

The following day, the b-b-blog received a couple of evermore curious hits. The first at 15:10 with the keyword combination of “ghoti nothing” which hit the following letter I had written to D. in September of 2010. In the letter, I made reference to a Rumi poem entitled “Nothing Lasts Forever”.  Roughly approximately 64 minutes later there was another Rumi-related hit to the b-b-blog with the keyword combination of “rumi tarot 9 of cups”. This particular hit was to a letter I’d written to Harry Houdini with respect to an exchange I’d had with a gentleman on Craigslist and the fact that I’d included a card from my Rumi Tarot deck in my response to him

The oddest thing about that hit is that roughly about the time it rolled onto the blog I was thinking about that very subject. That fact that life is so incredibly transitory and we can count on nothing lasting forever—particularly our relationships with others.

If both of those hits weren’t odd enough, yesterday afternoon, there was a hit to the b-b-blog with the keyword hit “the joker’s card” which returned this letter I wrote to Virginia Gilmore back in December in regard to a few odd hits to the b-b-blog at that time. I just re-read that letter and there’s a rather odd co-incidence with that letter. In it I mentioned a letter that I’d recently sent D. which included a poem I’d written entitled “Joke”. So in other words, the letter I sent D. was pretty much as the keyword stated—the joker’s card.

The real world and the virtual world collide.

Okay, then this morning, things got even more surreal as I got a hit from the UK from the keyword search, “the joker’s joker card” which in itself is a rather odd keyword search. However, as with many things with me, I discovered the surreal nature of the hit goes even slightly deeper.

The hit originated from the city of Bristol in an area called Friary. This in itself is probably not so odd. However, what made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end was a business that is literally yards away from where the hit was queried. A company that called itself “littlefish” (they’re an IT consulting firm). What are the chances? Right?

I have to wonder what the message is the Universe sends me presently in regard to the joker. Am I to find a way to further honor my connection with the Joker/Trickster? Do I need to connect at an ever deeper level with one and the same? Or perhaps I’m taking things far too seriously and the Universe is telling me it’s time for me to lighten up and not let things bother me so much?

Any or all of these may surely be true and I need to heed the message the Universe sends me presently.

Please pass along my regards to Mr. Turing.

The heartbreak of herpes!

Dearest St. Rita,

When I told you I was okay with transformation and change through being pox-ridden you knew that was a joke. Right? I’m kinda getting the feeling that perhaps you didn’t realize I was joking. As the Tuesday morning following my last letter to you, my ass ended up inflamed—quite literally. But let me back up and tell this story from the beginning.

Last weekend after I drafted the letter to you, it seemed the case of shingles I managed to acquire was clearing up and I might luck out with a mild case. Little did I know, it was the calm before the storm—and what a storm it’s been.

When I got up on Monday to ready myself for work, it appeared as if everything was moving along nicely in regard to the healing of my malady. Therefore, I didn’t think anything more of it and headed into the office. Once there, an orgy of sweets ensued. We’ve decreed Monday to be muffin day and each of us in my group takes a turn making a muffin recipe and bringing them into the office. My one coworker had brought in the most delectable apple blueberry muffins and I enjoyed one with a cup of coffee shortly after arriving in the office.

Monday was the birthday of another officemate and we had a small party for her in the afternoon at which I had not only a big o’ hunk of ice cream cake, but a big o’ hunk of red velvet cake in addition. Also we took her out for dinner that evening as well, and for dinner I had a chef’s salad replete with shrimp and crab. When I awoke the next morning, my ass had exploded in a fury of shingles.

I was not pleased.

After freeking freely, I did further research about shingles and what might contribute to their getting worse rather than better. The more and more I read, the more I discovered I was doing everything entirely incorrectly in regard to my diet. There are several foods one needs to avoid to keep shingles from getting worse rather than better. The top four are sugar, coffee, chocolate and shell fish. And on Monday those are exactly all of the things I consumed in nearly mass quantities.

Is it any wonder my ass exploded on Tuesday morning?

In my research, I discovered there are two key amino acids key to shingles—one inhibits their growth, the other contributes to their proliferation. L-arginine the amino acid that is found in nuts, chocolate, seeds and shellfish is one of the building blocks that varicella  zoster needs to replicate. On the other hand L-Lysine the amino acid that is found in fish, cheese, tofu and beans helps prevent the virus from replicating.

One of the other things I read that can be helpful to speed recovery from shingles is adding brewer’s yeast to one’s diet due to the high amounts of B vitamins contained in it. Brewer’s yeast is the by product of brewing beer hence its name. It however has one very unfortunate quality. It tastes like crap!

I discovered this the hard way when I ran next door to the mall adjacent to my office and hit the GNC there to buy can of it. When I returned to my office, I stirred in the recommended two tablespoons into my soup that I’d brought into the office for lunch that day and took a big bite. I nearly spit it out onto my desk when doing so. Imagine the bitter taste of beer times 10 and that’s the taste of brewer’s yeast.

Delightful!

But rather than give up on my new found friend that has been described as a miracle food, I decided to keep at it to discover a palatable way to ingest it and I think that I’ve found the perfect recipe. I decided to create smoothies from it as suggested. So I experimented over the weekend. What seems to taste the best is the following: a mix of frozen berries (about 2 cups), a third of a cup of Greek yogurt (honey), a cup of almond milk, two tablespoons of maple syrup, and two tablespoons of the brewer’s yeast. With this mix I can manage to get the whole smoothie down without retching.

I also had the most interesting experience the first couple of times I made one of these smoothies and drank it. About 10 minutes after taking the first sip I felt the most amazing rush throughout my body. It was as if I could literally feel the nutrients from the shake traveling down the nerve pathways and out to the very tips to tingle on my skin. And with the tingling it also felt as though the shingles themselves were buzzing with an electric shock.

Once I began the regime of the L-Lysine, various herbal anti-virals and the daily shakes with brewer’s yeast I began to notice a change in the fewer shingles that were popping up here and there. Rather than pop up as a huge hive and then divide into clusters of smaller micro-hives. They began to come up much smaller and with less severity which to me was an indication that the virus was beginning to lose the battle it had undertaken with my person. And now four days later it appears they’ve slowed down considerably and the big spots that I have on my hips and thighs have begun to recede.

I have to tell you dear Rita, it’s been a rather unsettling experience watching as my body has waged a war upon itself. It’s an experience I have little desire to repeat anytime soon.

Please pass along my regards to Dr. Reed.

Let's tear the roof off the sucka!

Dearest St. Rita,

I’m not sure what’s going on, however, it appears to me you’ve conspired with someone to put me through some kind of serious changes as of late that may rival those of dear Job. I’m not complaining mind you, as you know, I’m all about the peeling back the layers and undergoing personal transformation even if it includes breaking out in hives or boils. I just wasn’t counting on feeling and looking like I’m five once again—quite literally.

It seems somehow, unbeknownst to me, I have managed to let myself get run down enough to get a case of shingles. This is rather odd, as I’m neither in any way stressed out nor have I been ill. So the answer to the cause is a bit of a mystery. However, I have a spot on my abdomen almost exactly between the pubic mound and my navel and a spot on inner portion of my left forearm.

When I called my friend M. the other night to let her know that I’d finished up the greeting cards I was making her we found our way to the subject and I told her about the situation. She expressed that her feeling was there’s an underlying energetic cause for them, I told her I was inclined to agree given I’d been having other issues as well for the past couple of weeks—one of them being my gallbladder.

After I got off the phone with M., I pulled out my copy of Heal Your Body by Louise Hay and looked up both gallbladder (gallstones) and shingles (and associated symptoms) and here is what she has to say about the energetic associations of each.

Gallstones
Cause: Bitterness, Hard thoughts. Condemning. Pride
Affirmation: There is joyous release of the past. Life is sweet, and so am I

Shingles
Cause: Waiting for the other shoe to drop. Fear and Tension. Too sensitive
Affirmation: I am relaxed and peaceful because I trust the process of life. All is well in my world.

Aches (symptom of Shingles)
Cause: Longing for love. Longing to be held.
Affirmation: I love and approve of myself. I am loving and lovable.

Itching (symptom of Shingles)
Cause: Desires that go against the grain. Unsatisfied. Remorse. Itching to get out or get away.
Affirmation: I am at peace just were I am. I accept my good. Knowing all my needs and desires will be fulfilled.

Issues with the Abdomen
Represents: Fear. Stopping the Process
Affirmation: I trust the process of life. I am safe.

Issues with the Arms
Represents: The capacity and ability to hold the experiences of life.
Affirmation: I lovingly hold and embrace my experiences with ease and with joy.

Issues on the Left Side of the Body.
Represents: Receptivity, taking in, feminine energy, women, the mother [creativity]
Affirmation: My feminine energy is beautifully balanced.

Oh wow, I thought as I set the book down on my desk after reading through each of the entries and then thought, what the f*ck is going on?

As I sat and considered the situation further, the one thing that popped out at me was the issue in regard to the gallbladder (“bitterness, hard thoughts. condemning. pride”). If there is one (or several) thing(s) that resonate(s) with me presently, it’s all of the things Louise L. Hay attributes to gallbladder dysfunction. As I find myself in a place where I continue to think hard thoughts and that’s in regard to MMRFRO. Oh how I wish I could sit here and type that I’ve come to a fundamental place of forgiveness as to what happened between the two of us. However, if I examine my feelings with rigorous honesty, I’m no where close to forgiving D. for what happened. Which I’m sure in no part leads to the manifestation of the shingles, particularly the associated aches. It doesn’t take Freud to analyze that one.

As I was talking with M. again last night, we once again began to discuss my current condition of itchiness and aches. While we were talking about it M. pulled out her copy of Heal Your Body and we began to process the situation in tandem.

I mentioned that the “waiting for the other shoe to drop” and “fear and tension” aspects kind of make sense as I have a great deal going on which would lead to such feelings. However, I told M. the strangest thing is that I don’t feel the typical physical manifestations of stress such as raised blood pressure, body tension and sweaty palms, etc.

“But that doesn’t mean you’re not feeling the effects on an energetic level.” M. countered. “And hello, you’re no doubt sitting in your apartment anticipating the arrival of spring and all of the noise from the air conditioning units above you that haven’t been fixed.”

“Uh yeah.” I chuckled, “I totally forgot about that.”

“Hello! Just because you’re not consciously thinking about it doesn’t me your body is not reacting to it.” M. laughed as well.

“I just thought of something else.” I offered M.

“And what is that?” she asked.

“Well I have had this idea for a novel gestating for about a year now and I recently decided that I want to sit down and begin to write it. So I’m working with a couple of books to get myself motivated and in gear to write it.” I said.

“Sounds exciting!” M. replied.

“It is.” I continued, “But here’s the funny part. The first night I discovered the shingles was last Sunday evening right after I got done completing the first writing exercises in the one book that I’m using.”

“Okay. That’s classic!” laughed M. “Have you ever really wanted to do something but when you were just close enough to taste it there is an event or circumstance that throws you off course?”

I laughed and said, “Uh no. That’s NEVER happened to me!”

“Good.” M. chuckled, “Nice to know it’s only me.”

“Yes. Ironic isn’t it…” I followed up with M., “I’m beginning to undertake a creative process that’s very personal and requires a great deal of proverbial nerve and what happens? My fears and insecurities manifest themselves in a nerve-related ailment.”

“Bingo!” M. chuckled, “As I said, classic!”

I got the most curious hit to the biddy biddy blog the other day. It was from near Grand Isle, Vermont and what are two towns on the island? North and South Hero. I had to laugh as one of the books that I’m using in my efforts to write my first novel—The Writer’s Journey. Which is about what? The hero’s journey.

I think the Universe it trying to tell me something.

Please give a hug to Mr. Wilde for me!