plural

Of course, drinking the better part of four liters of whisky (split two ways) will do that, as will sleeping with a three hundred pound man.

I suppose I should illuminate

I went to one of my dearest friends home for a poker night with some of my closest friends. I started off killing half a bottle of bourbon that got me through the first hour of cards.

My drinking buddy for the evening, the aforementioned three hundred pound man, yes, I went head to head with a man who has more than a hundred pounds on me and lived to tell the tale, and I decided it had been too long since we had some heavy drinking and a night of falling under the wagon was in order.

the game started at 9pm
the game ended at 5am
no bottle was left standing

I do not approach poker with friends, the same way I approach poker with strangers. With the latter, it is for me an attempt at perfection, playing the game to the best of my ability and usually taking everyone chips. When I play with friends, it is all about action and thrills, having a good time as it should be.

We play low stakes, twenty dollar buy in and twenty five fifty blinds. I generally win a few big hands up front
get myself a respectable chip stack then spend the rest of the night slowly losing it. Prior to last night I had never bought in a second time but last night we were just having too much fun.

I got taken out on a beautiful bad beat and so I took over as dealer for a while. Then someone else got busted and called it a night, we were down to four and what fun is that? So I bought back in. My second hand I took down about fifty bucks so I paid myself back the twenty for my second buy in and kept playing. I built that stack up to about a hundred and eighty bucks, it was some beautiful playing on my part, if I may say so myself.

At five am we decided to crash and my drinking buddy and I, being in no shape to drive, crashed out on the spare room. Fortunately I was too drunk to remember any prison style raping which may have occurred.

All that in itself, is really just the prelude, after all my drunken misbehavior and luck with cards is all old news and even I get tired of writing about it again and again.

It was a conversation which happened this afternoon while I sobered up enough to drive myself home with the wife of my host (a lovely lady whom I adore) that brought about this post. She recalled something I had said in passing during the nights inebriation. A recent revelation that I had attempted a previous post on but found that I had not processed it enough to write it up properly. Todays conversation helped me process it quite nicely, so here we are.

The comment itself was quite offhand, a passing reply made in jest, that I was a quixotic man. She wasn't familiar with the word so I explained that quixotic refers to a person who is love with the idea and feeling of being in love. And the game went on with nothing more being said.

This morning she brought it up again and we talked at length about it. I think it comes from Charlie's death actually yet another aspect of the residual baggage I usually keep neatly stowed in the overhead compartment.

The revelation is this; I find it safer to be in love with love than to be in love with a woman. After all love cannot die. In all of my many years and for all of my many women, love has never died. I've walked away more times than I can count but any woman I have ever loved, I still love to this day.

She can kill with a smile, she can wound with her eyes,
She can ruin your faith with her casual lies,
And she only reveals what she wants you to see.
She hides like a child but she's always a woman to me.

Of course the same is true with anyone really, friends, family, once I love someone it is permanent. It doesn't go away That is just how I am wired.

With family it is a bit different because I can't walk away from family but with friends and lovers is it remarkably the same. The friends and lovers who I have cut from of my life, I did so not because of a lack of love, in fact with my lovers it was usually for an excess of it.

I've never in my life been dumped (well except by Samantha but since she called me a week later and wanted to get back together, I don't really count that. If I'd called her and convinced her to get back together I would count it however, just so you understand my thinking).

However that is merely a statement of who ended the relationship, not who was at fault and contrary to common perception, in most cases the reason I ended my relationships was not from a lack or failing of love but because I simply recognized that my lover was unhappy. I recognized what she needed and/or wanted from me to be happy and recognized that I was not now, nor planning to become, that man.

Call me vain, call me shallow but I won't date a woman I make miserable.

It would be nice if they actually liked me but since I haven't dated a woman who actually liked me in almost ten years, those that are willing to sleep with me despite their dislike will have to suffice.

She can lead you to love, she can take you or leave you,
She can ask for the truth but she'll never believe you,
And she'll take what you give her as long as it's free,
Yeah she steals like a thief but she's always a woman to me.

Who am I to judge? After all I dislike most people. It would be quite hypocritical of me to expect them to like me. However dislike and miserable are two very different things.

You can have a lot of fun, create a lot of meaning, enjoy mind blowing sex, (the best sex I've ever had was with a girl I could not stand and who absolutely and completely despised me) perhaps even a beautiful life with someone you dislike.

Hell, half the married couples I know have managed it for nearly a decade. Even miserable is quite doable
I can think of plenty of people who have spent forty years making their spouses miserable (and being made miserable by them).

While, for me in almost all of my relationships, I was quite content. My vanity will not let me go to that extreme, will not let me take the easy road. So I end the relationship even if they are willing to suffer me, I am not willing to be suffered.

So anyway, back to the main thrust of this revelation.

I have always been a hopeless romantic and when Charlie died. I needed company, affection so overwhelmingly and legion were the gentle women who were kind enough to open their legs and share their beds with a broken grieving man.

Oh, she takes care of herself, she can wait if she wants,
She's ahead of her time.
Oh, and she never gives out and she never gives in,
She just changes her mind.

An underage Thai hooker giving tourists two dollar rides on the beach doesn't see that much ass in a year.

It was a foolhardy approach, it cheapened me, it cheapened them, but happy was I for the distraction however much I may regret it now. I think somehow in that process, there was a transference. I had not even started grieving Charlie but there I was, in the arms and beds of other women.

I could not love them, regardless of who they were or were not, my heart was broken. They were but substitutes, a way, a path for me to experience the love, the affection, the companionship, the intensity of connection that sex contains. Those things that I missed so dearly once she was gone.

I could not obtain what my heart desired but I could revisit in some small way what I had lost. Like getting your photograph taken with the statues in a wax museum. It isn't the same as the original, it won't replace the original but if you don't look too closely, you can fool yourself for a while.

The booze helps.

And she'll promise you more than the garden of Eden
then she'll carelessly cut you and laugh while you're bleeding,
But she brings out the best and the worst you can be.
Blame it all on yourself cause she's always a woman to me.

So I created a checklist in my head, the things I wanted a woman to be, and pursued that. I met, dated, loved and made love to many a woman.

Or so I thought.

I thought if I just checked off enough boxes, I would be ok, it would be good. And, I suppose I wasn't far off, at least from my perspective, after all I was frequently in love with and frequently making to, lovely lasses with outstanding pedigrees.

Or so I thought.

I am the great deceiver, the flim flam man, the prince of lies and perhaps more importantly, my own betrayer. I have long told myself that the most dangerous lies are the ones we tell ourselves, my pride and my vanity, gloated ever so lovingly over that fact. I looked with barely masked contempt at the masses who paraded around believing their own lies, and savored the fact that I was free.

Or so I thought.

Now I sit here humbled still with enough whisky in my veins to stagger a horse, realizing, soaking in the truth of my lies, of my life. Awash in the stark reality of the past decade of my life, finally exposed to the light of day. What to do now? I suppose the answer is change it but I don't know where to start.

Oh, she takes care of herself, she can wait if she wants,
She's ahead of her time.
Oh, and she never gives out and she never gives in,
She just changes her mind.

I was, of course glib in todays earlier conversation with my friends wife. I just smiled and remarked that it was time to throw out the old list, to come up with a new one and I did. Only one thing remains from the old list, because it was something I never put on that list to begin with. The question of class, grace and intellect. All are traits I admire, and am attracted to in a woman, but in truth, they are more a function of how my life works, the obligation which I must uphold, and I simply can't have a wife who cannot perform alongside me at those functions.

Perhaps it is shallow, but like my family (as in fact it comes from them, though I doubt they would admit it) it isn't a part of my life I can walk away from.

The new list, is much shorter, has only three items in fact.

I want a woman who can perform the following:

Find my mischievous ways endearing
Disarm my stubbornness with a smile
Get me out of a third world prison

I'm even willing to teach the last two items, and as for the first, well, I am toning down my wicked ways some in my old age and while I will always reserve the right to act like a jackass from time to time, but I understand that some compromise needs to be reached. In many ways, I rather see any marriage I have as having some similarities to that of my good friend and last night's host's marriage.

He behaves himself, has made some accommodation, but keeps a couple of bad behaviors around for old times sake, properly sanitized to be in accordance with his marriage vows of course, and she just winks and teases him about it. I could compromise a lot of my mischief if I knew that I wasn't going be ragged and nagged about the little I keep to make sanity fun.

So that was the plan I gave her, but I have to wonder, is that just another way to mask the problem, just a new illusion to drape over my eyes so that I can ignore the bitter taste and swallow my lies? Sure, it is my usual charming and glib, with a dash of amusing self, but I don't see how it changes anything.

I suppose what I really need to do is find a way to move on from Charlie, but it has been more than a decade now but it still feels like yesterday. I still remember how she smells, the feel of her hair and her lips on my face when she kissed me. The way she fit so perfectly against me when we slept.

She was, and I suppose in a disturbing way, still is, my everything. How do I escape the reality, that I want nothing more than to feel her arms around me, to be magically transported back to how I felt when I was in love with her, and she with me. I can look in the mirror and tell myself that I am not trying to replace her. How can it not be a lie, when she set the standard for love, sure I can be content with less, but however much I try, I have to wonder if I am not unfairly holding women up to her standard. How can I not put her on a pedestal, even if it is a flawed one, as she was.

What am I? a man, a boy, a monster? I was a disaffected youth, a foolish boy doing foolish things but what about now?

What is left of me.

As Peter De Vries famously said "The value of marriage is not that adults produce children but that children produce adults." In many ways my relationship with Charlie molded me into a man. Not because she sought to shape me or fix me as so many other women have done, but rather because she gave me a reason to be something better, a reason to get my shit together, a reason to be a man.

She had a way of looking at me. Something I had never experienced at that time, and have never experienced romantically since.

When she looked at me, she was so sure.
sure that I was her man,
sure that I could protect her,
sure that I would never hurt her,
sure that I would care for her,
sure that I could handle whatever happened,
sure that we could handle anything that happened,
sure of everything.

Where as I'd never been sure of anything.

It is that look which I miss, which I yearn for, it inspired me to be the best man I could manage, to be man she saw, or die trying. It was the most powerful drug, the most powerful aphrodisiac, the most powerful experience I've ever felt. Remembering that look, the sensation floods through me, it builds me up and tears me down in an instant and I am left a wretched pathetic excuse for a man. I have never felt half as much of a man as when she looked at me and I've never managed to be half the man I was with her.

Her love brought out the best in me, her death brought out the worst, and ever since I feel like I've been standing in a desolate wasteland trying to remember how to breathe.

I suppose I could give it another go, spend another decade trying to work through it but what then?

Get a bottle in front of me, then a frontal lobotomy, marry a playboy playmate and live happily ever after in blissful ignorance on a sunny beach somewhere?

She is frequently kind and she's suddenly cruel,
She can do as she pleases, she's nobody's fool,
But she can't be convicted, she's earned her degree,
And the most she will do is throw shadows at you
But she's always a woman to me.

Fuck, I just don't know.

when he looked into her eyes

he saw himself

not as he is
but as he was

the image was unbearable.

a life he had lived
a lie he had lived

but what now?

a boy grows into a man
seeks to live the righteous life

how does he correct his mistakes

the lies come
the lies go

there is too much there
to ever come clean

call it an awakening
call it a crisis of faith
there is little difference
there is no redemption

so he looks at her
so he looks through her

the truth he cannot tell her
even if he knew what it was
she would not believe him

so he tells her a story

a story about a boy

a young boy
from a rich and powerful kingdom

this young boy
loved his country
loved his king

and one day
he was called
called to serve his king
called to serve his country

and happily he obeyed.

he served and served well
was rewarded
trusted

on blind faith
he acted
faith in god
faith in king
faith in country

years passed
the boy became a man
and his eyes opened

he saw the truth
he saw the lies
he saw his truth
he saw his lies

and his faith

his faith

was obliterated

days
weeks
months
years

for what purpose?

he saw the truth
and it destroyed him

how many acts of evil
can a man commit
in the service of the greater good?

how many acts of evil
no matter the intention
before one becomes evil

and if one halts
if one ceases in that path

how many acts of evil
can one find redemption for?

the boy became a man
the man opened his eyes

saw truth where there were lies
saw lies where there was truth

but what then?

so now you know.
so now you see.
and what can you do about it?

nothing.

absolutely nothing.

the boy who became a man
realized the error of his ways
but it was too late
to find his way home

So

I've been drunk now
since about
9 am Saturday morning

not sloppy drunk
just pleasantly tipsy
for those few who have seen it
my normal happy wine drunk

but

the rough draft is finished.

broken into
two acts, six scenes

now it'll need a good bit of reworking
I know there is a quite a bit of stage direction missing
or which needs to be corrected / updated

and I need to smooth out the progression
of the last two scenes somewhat
I may shift things around a bit as well
within those two

I haven't done a realtime read-through
but looking at it, I'm guessing
I should be pretty close to on target
for an hour and a half to two hours.

I'll see about getting together some folks
for a read through this week
once I've cleaned up the careless mistakes
and the stage direction.

but it feels good to get it too this stage
and
lucky I did
as
I only have about half a bottle of wine left
*smirk*

well that isn't true
I'm just not in much shape
to go about opening a new bottle.

so

I am working on the music

I traded out a version of "Mad World" by Tears for Fears
for a cover by "Gary Jules" (the one from Donny Darko)

Now the trouble I'm having
is with the song

"Last Kiss"

I've got four versions of the song.

One by Bobby Darin
One by Wednesday
One by J. Frank Wilson & the Cavaliers
One by Pearl Jam

The one by Wednesday doesn't really work
There is little difference between Bobby and Frank
The Pearl Jam version is interesting
I'm leaning toward Bobby
but the Pearl Jam version is haunting me.

It has a bit more hollow feel to it
and a bit more energy
the hollow I like
the energy not so much

oh
yeah
and
as any good writer should be
I'm quite drunk on my fourth bottle
of red wine

which works well for writing
but not so much for this

a few hours ago

I've pulled a pair of corked bottles
each half full of wine from last night
from the fridge

a couple plastic containers
of cold food
and retreated to my office
to work on my play

I'm making quite good progress
[hell I'm almost done with the second bottle]

I've written quite a bit in the past couple of days
some part entirely new, some drawing off things I've written here
melded to fit the form and style of the play

Of course, the challenge I must face soon
is taking all of this new material
and fitting it into the existing framework

Moving things around
adjusting the continuity.
I expect to have a good draft
by the end of the week.

Although I suspect
that some of you will be disappointed
those of you who fail to separate the play
from the reality of me
however much the two may mirror themselves

I let a dear friend read it the other day
part of what has re-energized me into finishing it
although I'd been thinking about it quite a bit lately

he said he recognized a lot of me in the play
and made the offhand comment that
I apparently don't think I'll live past forty

That is the difference between me and the play
I am intentionally writing a dark play
I have no intention of killing myself
now, on my 40th birthday or any other time.
sure thoughts of death might haunt me
but given the amount of it in my life
I believe that is only to be expected.

The play, isn't my life, it isn't me
however much there may be strong resemblance
in a way,
I put the best and the worst of myself into the play

a cathartic release one could say.

the truth is that I need to die
not physically
but I need to let go
the part of me that still loves her
the part of me that cannot stand her absence
the part of me that punishes myself for her death
those parts of me
must be vanquished
quite simply, must die
if I am to have a future.

I think in a large way
writing this play is to me

a funeral service
a way of honoring the love I once had
a way of owning up to the many mistakes I've made
and the behaviors of which I am ashamed

this is my confessional

and
for those of you who worry
for those of you who wonder
if I am wrapping myself up too much in the past
writing this

I can only say
last night's woman
[for she is neither a girl nor a lass]
has been in my thoughts
all days as I write

I don't know what to make of her
I don't know what to make of me
I think for too long I've defined myself
in terms of losing Charlie

but there is one thing I'll say for her
she has class
and not merely an affectation of it

I am intrigued

I spent the day
cooking and shopping
for the Passover seder that I am hosting
on Saturday.

For the most part
it was the incidentals
that we prepared today.

the stuff we wouldn't have time
to do on Saturday
which is the main day for cooking

the menu for the seder is

to start:

Leek patties
Matzo ball soup

the main:

Israeli salad
Roasted potato medley
Filet of Lamb
Braised Chicken

dessert:
chocolate dipped strawberries and satsuma pieces
jelly thumbprint cookies
and

wait for it

popsicles

the idea of twenty two adults
having a fancy and ceremonial meal
(not to mention one which has four glasses of wine consumed before dinner is served)
completing it with popsicles
just tickles me

consider that nearly everyone will be drunk
by this point
in particular myself
seeing as I have to fast all day
before the meal
so
I'll have four glasses of wine
before my first bite of food
[probably more as I tend to drink while cooking]

a situation that doesn't exactly lend itself to sobriety

I'm looking forward to it

I've invited not one
but three women I'd like to sleep with
[just to make it interesting]

my dear friend and co-host "N"
suggested an orgy after dinner
so I could complete the transaction with all three

I could not argue
after all it is a celebration of our freedom
from slavery in Egypt
should we not be free with ourselves as well?

but that is just casual musing
as
I've been thinking lately
that it would probably be best
if I avoided coitus with all three

not that I will necessarily
I've always been weak when it comes to
beautiful women

what can I say
when it comes to failings
I suppose I could have worse

I've been thinking
something I'm too often prone to do
that
any woman I would marry
does not deserve to have a broken man
such as myself foisted upon her

after all
I am already in love
I have never stopped being in love

that she was taken from me
makes little difference
all these years
haven't changed
haven't cause to fade
the passion I feel for her

Those who say that time heals all wounds
are liars and worse

It has been more than a decade
and when I wake in the night
the pain is no less than that night
when I sit quietly
the love is no less than in any of our days

I am
still in love with her
truly madly deeply
completely

I miss her terribly
but more than anything
I miss her flaws

those little weaknesses
the miniscule tremors
that appeared in her hands when she was nervous
the way she would worry and fret

those many things
that made her human
not the goddess I wished to make her

but I was a foolish boy
and now I'm a foolish man

looking back
it was her humanity I loved most

and how she saw me
looked right through me
smiled softly
perhaps even coyly
and disarmed me

she had a way
perhaps that is all I should say
perhaps that is all that matters
she had a way

a way with me
to make me feel ridiculous
to make me feel absurd
but without ridicule
without condemnation

instead
with only
a smile

god, I miss that smile
that look

it said so much
no
it said everything

a single gesture
no, half a gesture
as that smile was only half a smile

but in it
was contained a loving caress

"I love you, even when you are being a fool."

and a fool I was
and a fool I still am

so why should I not love her still

I am still a man
the same wretched little man
I was then

so why should I not still love her

the world has changed
moved on

but she is fixed
and
so am I

a broken man in a broken world
wanting the only thing I cannot have

but all of that
really doesn't matter
as it is only ancillary to my decision
a recognition of conditions
as they exist on the ground

the real thing comes down a particular girl
one I'm quite fond of
but who has made it clear
she is not interested in a fling

I am quite attracted to her
but she wants a relationship

to have her
all I have to do
is say so

but I cannot

it isn't about all of this truly
it was just the catalyst
it just got me thinking

despite my attraction
her and I would never work
I've dated women far too similar
and while they make me quite happy
they are made miserable
and
perhaps it is selfish of me
but I dislike dating a woman who is made miserable by me

but as I said before
it started me thinking

and
I have high standards
particular and specific standards
and
in all honesty
the few women who can meet them
deserve to be loved
truly madly deeply

in truth

singularly

and that is not something
I can provide

I can love them sure
perhaps even love them well

but my heart is spoken for
that one singular love of my life
has come and gone

and any woman
who meets my exacting standards
deserves more than that
deserves to be first in the heart of her lover

and for me
that place is forever reserved.

my dear friend "N" and I
discussed this subject tonight
and
other somewhat related things
and it led to my sharing
my play with him

and even before he finished
and gave his opinion
I had decided it was time
to finish it
to make it complete

he liked it
and urged me to finish it
so
I've poured a glass of bourbon
and
tonight I will start
perhaps the close will come to me now

we shall see

I want to thank everyone
for their thoughts and concern
and
beg forgiveness as I'm not
much in the mood to respond

today was fairly surreal
and it still isn't very real to me
but I found encouragement
in the words and comfort
displayed by all of you

I suppose it is something
that will take a while to sink in
it is strange how
you take so many things in life
for granted
like tomorrows

you always think there is an endless supply of them
always another day
another chance
to express how you feel
to be there for those you love
but
tomorrows are finite

I guess right now
it is just a waiting game
let the doctors run their tests
discuss the results
and plan what to do next

right now
I just want to curl into a ball
but I won't

I'll do what I always do
throw myself into my work
keep myself distracted
anything
to avoid the waiting
the not knowing

deal with it all
when the tests come back
when we know something
when we have some answers

this too will pass

Today was a good day
I woke up
looked outside
saw snow
sent my boss an email
saying I was going to be in late
because I wasn't going to risk
getting hit by the idiots in traffic

he replied that he was stranded at home
because he couldn't get up the hill
from his house

I sent the Recruiting manager an email
asking her to entertain my new assistant
in case I wasn't there by the time she finished
new hire orientation.

then I went back to bed
and cuddled with my cats
strolled into the office just after 11

met with my new assistant
gave her a trival task
as I had nothing else to do
and went to meet with some of the other executives

came back
she had completed it as far as she was able
[as they had not gotten her a network login yet]
so
I walked her over to the admins
introduced her
and had them fast track an account for her

then I walked her through the process
for capital expenditures
as it will be a large part of her job
to manage that process
and it was a good enough excuse
to take her around and introduce her
to the key players she will interact with

anyway
my boss sent out an email today
to the CEO of the parent company
and the CTOs of each of the subsidiaries
informing them that I now have oversight
on all decisions relating to technology
in all six of the subsidiaries

for the time being
I won't be actually managing the other five companies
just signing off on the decisions those managers make
but it is the first step
in shifting me from being responsible
for five offices in five states
to being responsible for 14 offices in ten states

today was the first day of my 4th week with the company
I expect the transition and promotion will take
about a month to finalize
which is about five months sooner
than my boss and I discussed when I was hired

so

yeah

It is good to be the king.

and
that is the good
as for the bad

well
I have to say
I'm probably in trouble
with regard to my new assistant
cause
she's bright, cute
and has a knockout figure
[and no, neither are why I hired her]

of course
I've been mostly good
about behaving myself
when it comes to my assistants
in the past

but saying no to sex
with an attractive woman
has never really been my strong suit
when I'm a single guy

oh
and in a bit of sad news
my sister called me while writing this
to tell me that one of the family cats died on Saturday

He was 20 years old
and was born in my little sisters closet
when she was an infant
she was quite broken up about it
and
I remembered my first cat
I got him when I was six
and he died when I was 27
that was pretty rough for me
and I'm not nearly as sentimental as she is
even still
it is hard to lose a pet
that you have had all of your life

and
lastly

I spoke with my rep at the opera today
and she emailed me the season ticket prices for 2008/2009
the nosebleed seats start at 223$ a seat
my preferred seats are 3346$ a seat
[they happen to be the most expensive option]

what can I say
I like to spoil myself sometimes

[full disclosure - I honestly never knew]
[until tonight that those were the most expensive seats]
[they've just always been the seats I had and liked]
[and I figured that some of the boxes had to be more expensive]
[and when I've bought subscriptions in the past]
[I've just told them what seats I wanted and paid for them]

of course
I don't pay retail
so
it looks like it will cost me
about 1200$ for a pair of tickets in my preferred seats
of course
I'll kick in a donation to the annual fund
on top of that for around the same amount
[probably a bit more]
and get my usual semi-anonymous listing in the programs
[I dislike being obvious about such things]

The only downside is that the Season doesn't start
until August
but I have a feeling they'll offer me a deal
on the last two shows of the 2007/2008 season

I have my super secret inside man
working on my subscription to the Rep for next season
so all I have left is the ballet and the symphony

oh wait
I promised one of my employees
I'd look into getting Seahawks tickets
for next season as well

ah well

It's a hard knock life for me

a definition

telling a woman
that while she is quite attractive
you'd rather
go home and masturbate
to your own reflection

so

I was doing some laundry tonight
or
more accurately
I put some laundry in and went to bed

when
I woke up a few minutes ago
I swung into the kitchen
to grab something to drink

and I heard water noise

at first I blew it off
thinking it was just rain or something outside

then I suppose as my mind became more conscious
alarm bells went off

I went downstairs
and discovered that
one of my cats
(and I know which one)
had
knocked the drain tube
for the washing machine loose
and
said machine has been dumping water
onto the floor for the past hour or two

I've got a company coming by
in about an hour and a half
to give me an estimate
as to how much it will cost to clean up

and
it sounds like it will be expensive

the estimate alone is a couple hundred bucks

sigh

oh well
it could be worse