Watch out for meyhem! Ya never know where he'll strike.

Dearest Mr. Babbage,

You know very well my life tends to be a bit surreal. As I’ve expressed in letters to you and others in this blog, I really don’t have an issue with it. As a matter of fact, it’s quite the opposite; I tend to get some kind of perverse joy from it. However, there are times things happen that befuddle me so much, it often feels as though I’m an accidental avatar who has happened into this existence quite unprepared—but let me see if I might properly explain.

As I mentioned to my friend M. (a meditation teacher), when she was over for breakfast on Sunday last week, about a month ago I made the decision to increase the time period of my daily mediation practice to 40 minutes as opposed to the 30 minutes I was averaging before. Little did I know the curious side-effect(s) that would result from this seemingly insignificant decision.

At first I didn’t really notice too much of a difference, so I didn’t consider this change in routine much more than the obvious commitment of the extra ten minutes on the cushion. However, as you are aware from the letter I wrote to Frigyes Karinthy a couple of weeks ago, I had an experience which left me scratching my head, metaphorically speaking, and simultaneous wondering quite literally (nearly out loud), WTF?

As you know, my boss brought to my attention the fact that a VP in our Texas office received a rather strange email concerning me in which a mysterious “Virginia Gilmore” stated I claim to be the devil and regularly engage in black magic. And, apparently unbeknownst to me, I am regularly placing any myriad of spells and curses on folks at the office. Of course, receiving this news elicited the initial thoughts within my cranium of a. if only this were true and b. if only I had that much power. But alas, I don’t as I would have pulled the requisite winning lottery numbers out of my man p*ssy by now and gotten the hell out of dodge long before this moment.

But I digress…

Several days after this happened, as I am wont to do, I began to post-process this experience to “unpack it” as Dan Savage would say and had the most curious (and somewhat startling) revelation. As I considered this circumstance at greater length, I realized a mere 31 hours before the VP in Texas received the email concerning me, and my new position in the company as Satan. I did my weekly Tarot reading with a newly acquired deck with which I have quickly established a very profound and visceral connection.

The reading had several cards from the Major Arcana which is indicative of some kind of major occurrence or circumstance developing. As with adding 10 minutes to my meditation routine, I didn’t consider this much as I often have many majors show up in a reading. However, when I connected the dots in retrospect in regard to this particular reading a chill went up my spine.

In the particular reading in question, the Tower card showed up in the past obstacle  position. Wow! I thought as I made this connection, that’s *really* weird. I had this thought due to the fact that this particular card represents both rapid change and deflation of the ego. I don’t think anything might deflate one’s ego more than discovering he’s a long lost son of Beelzebub.

However, being a lover of archetypes and all they represent, I looked up the meaning of the character known as Satan and was reminded of what he represents. Satan or ha-Satan as he’s known in Hebrew is “the opposer” or the creator of obstacles. He is what keeps us from reaching our true potential and/or finding/maintaining our bliss.

Oh my, I thought upon this discovery, it looks like there’s going to be a wild ride in store.

 Flash forward to last evening.

I had the most curious thing happen last night as I was meditating. However, I’m getting slightly ahead of myself and must interject a quick thought so what follows will make sense, if that’s at all possible.

Before I sat down to meditate last evening, for whatever reason, the interest that I’ve expressed in this blog (and with friends/fuck buddies) with regard to exploring bondage (specifically kinbaku) bubbled up from my subconscious. As I had this thought, I realized I don’t even have the rope that is necessary for this activity, so I need to at least take the first step and buy the needed accoutrements. So I quickly made a cyber-beeline to twistedmonk.com and perused the price of rope kits.

Shortly thereafter, I plopped my behind on the cushion for 40 minutes of bliss and commune with the Buddha. About halfway into my mediation, for whatever reason, thoughts and fantasies about bondage began to bubble up yet again. However, the strangest thing happened. Concurrent with the thoughts of bondage, I felt my crown chakra begin to buzz as never before. It felt as though someone literally had placed a plate on my head and it was spinning at a rather rapid RPM.

Curious. I thought and tried to once again quiet my mind.

A few seconds after feeling the buzz begin in my crown chakra, I heard the Xoom chirp to let me know that I’d just received an email message. How queer, I thought to myself but continued to do my best to hold the meditative space. A few moments later the meditation timer program I have on the Xoom chimed for one of the intervals set for every ten minutes. Upon hearing it, I decided to quickly check to see from where the email had originated.

As I pressed the tiny “M” in the task bar of the tablet, the pop up window let me know the message was from G. a gentleman with whom I’ve been corresponding via email for several months now. Odd, I thought, I’ve not heard from G. in quite awhile. When the email client opened to his message I was greeted with the following message, “e- pic 4 u”. The attached photograph was of a naked torso of a young woman with wooden clothes pins clamped on her nipples and the words, “Daddy’s whore” written on her chest. After the initial horror of viewing naked female breasts faded from my consciousness, I was struck with the most curious thought, very close, but something’s not exactly right with the context. And so I expressed my gratitude to G. with the following, “Thanks.  I think…Would be hotter if it was a boytoy wearing those nipple clamps.”

We spent the rest of the evening exchanging emails of poetry with photos and then once again this afternoon in response to an email I’d sent him earlier in the day he sent me yet another bondage themed photo. This one of an erect penis with both the shaft and balls bound in what? Hemp rope such as that sold by the dear Twisted Monk and with the caption, “bound to happen some day.” I couldn’t stifle the chuckle as I read the message.

I once again have to sit and wonder, WTF?

On a different note, I must share with you the message in the fortune cookie I received earlier while dining at my favorite chinese restaurant up the street from my condo. I decided to take a walk and tote the tablet to the restaurant with me to get out of the apartment for a little while, and have dinner while beginning this letter to you. When I cracked open the cookie and pulled out the sweet morsel of wisdom held within it said, “A well fed romance nourishes the soul.”

I nearly fell out of the booth.

Please pass along my regards to Mr. Einstein.