Today is Monday - New Year's Eve

It is New Year's Eve and I am alone. I am finishing off a bottle of Chianti. I have not written for some time as work has been much too demanding and far too draining. I have not been with a woman for about 4 months. I imagine myself as a flower, quietly awaiting for the bumble bees to come and drink from my stamen. I have eaten far too many bumble bee wings, and now the hive is aware and is not sending drones my way. I have changed my hair and have updated my ink, even if the 'best by' date is far off, rancid meat will always warn the customer.
I need to change.
My life is over if I do not at least attempt to make it meaningful. I think of Sofia often, but she is gone. I think of my daughter, but she is unreachable. All I have is work and the money that it brings me, and I am not sure that is enough. I can probably purchase a whore, but I don't like the way they smell, and you can't kiss them. I can probably buy me a Russian bride, but they have bad teeth. I have thought of online dating, but those people are pathetic. I think that I need to fix whatever is wrong with me and see if I can't lure the bees back.

Xioba

Today is Thursday- Jacking off to booze

For my three week business trip, I packed the following:
4 Suitcases (Kate Spade) Lisbon black various sizes
8 Garment bags (Prada) Brown
4 Suitcases (Tumi) Black various sizes
4 Suitcases (Louis Vuitton) brown various sizes
1 Three button suit (Gucci) dark grey
1 Three button suit (Brioni) navy
1 Two button suit (Oxford) navy
1 Three button suit (Prada) black - makes me feel like a waiter
1 Three button suit (Zegna) brown
1 Three button suit (Costume) navy
1 Three button suit (Armani) charcoal
1 Sport coat (Armani) light patterned
1 Sport coat (Oxford) dark patterned
10 Button down shirts (Pinks) white and various collars
15 Patterned button down shirts (Various) various collars
25 ties (Various)
4 Cashmere sweaters (Al Loro Piano) dark blue, tan, green, light blue
40 V-neck tees (Calvin and Jockey) white
15 Pairs of pants (Various) various colors
10 Pairs of jeans (Diesel)
40 Pairs of sox (Gold Toe) black
20 Pairs of sox (Various) various light colors
10 Pairs of cycling socks (Various) various colors
20 Pairs of shoes (Various) various styles and colors
20 Belts (Various) matching shoes
10 Pairs of cuff links (Various)
15 Kerchiefs (Hermes) various colors
20 Pocket squares (Hermes) various colors
3 Umbrellas (Various) black, green, red
3 Rain coats (Al Loro Piano) Black, grey, tan
4 Speedos (Speedo) Navy
1 Pair of swim goggles (Speedo) Red
4 Pairs of bike shorts (Castelli) Black
4 Cycling shirts (Castelli) various
4 Layers (Various) various colors
1 Pair of running shoes (Brooks) white and blue
2 Watches (Various) sport and dress
2 Toothbrushes (Colgate) red
2 Tubes of toothpaste (Colgate) red
3 Containers of Dental Tape (Glide) white
40 Razor cartridges (Fusion) black
2 Razor bodies (Fusion) industrial
1 Bottle of SPF lotion (Kiehls) cream
1 Bottle of scent (I coloniali) guarnaca wood
2 Deodorant sticks (I coloniali) silver

On the plane, I wore the following:
1 Three button suit (Oxford) light grey
1 Button down shirt (Pinks) light blue stripe check
1 Tie (Pinks) patterned green
1 Pair of cuff links (Vintage) silver
1 Watch (Rolex)
1 V-neck tee (Jockey) white
1 Pair of boxer briefs (Calvin) white
1 Pair of shoes (Wilkes Bashford) brown- best shop out there
1 Belt (Wilkes Bashford) brown
1 Device (Blackberry) black
1 Laptop (Apple) silver
1 Laptop case (Tumi) black
1 Music Device (Apple) black
10 Pens (Sharpie) black
10 Pens (Sharpie) red
10 Notebooks (Moleskine) Black checked
1 Magazine (Playboy)
1 Magazine (Art News)
1 Magazine (Cycling)
1 Book (Crossword Dictionary)

As you can tell by my packing skills, I am very thorough and organized. However, I failed to pack an essential item and the lack of this item caused me much pain and discomfort. Though the trip was a success in business terms my personal discomfort put a huge stress upon me, so much so that on my way home I had the driver stop at a liquor store so that I could get a bottle of Jack. I felt so dirty during my trip. When I finally made it into my house, I left all the luggage downstairs, cracked the bottle of Jack and ran upstairs to shower. After my shower, I dried off and put on a pair of clean boxer briefs. I drank as much of the Jack that I could until my toes warmed. I stared at the bottle and thought of every woman that could have been. There was Marie. Suzanne. Gennifer. Jennifer. Alice. Whitney. Katharine. Georgia. Tia. Candice....... What are they doing now? Why couldn't I commit to them. I could be married right now with children. Instead, I am single with a child that I never see. What would life with Marie have been like? She had light pink panties that glowed against her bright white skin. Her knees were a bit darker then her skin and her hair had a slight reddish tint. She always had on blue nail polish. Her lips were full and she had a longish, crooked nose.
I think that I might have prostate cancer. It bothers me when full and it bothers me when it pulses. Sort of a dull aching throb. I am going to see the doctor tomorrow. She needs to reach up there and she needs to bang on it. Test it like the actors in the old movies used to test cars- kick the tires. I wonder if she could just pluck it out and flick it into the stream.
Cleaning fish in my youth. Insert the knife in the anus and cut upward toward the head. Slit across the gills. Pull out the entrails and use your thumb nail to clean out the vein that runs along the spine. Throw it all into the stream. Grilled trout with crispy skin and lemon. Too dark to see anything, but the smell leads the fork to the flesh and the flesh to my mouth. Eat the tail. Crunch, crink, crunch. Like dry seaweed, but not as sweet. Eating rainbows only made me yearn for something else. A mind that could never settle or become staid.
Under the covers, when I close my eyes, I am a starved pangolin lapping up ants. Colonies and colonies of queens, diploids and haploids fill my stomach and distend my belly so that my legs can no longer reach the ground. I rollover in blissful satiation. I am completely hapless as my tongue continually darts in and out of my mouth entering deep into the nest. I am past the point of brining as every ant that exits my anus thirty fold are brought in by my tongue. The nest is pulsing ants toward me- sacrificing themselves for the brood. Their defense is in their numbers. There is no explosive release. Just a ceasing of my tongue, heart and breath. Dead ants trickle out of me while live ants caress the mess, deftly cleaning my carcass.

Abinadi in Mosiah 16:3:

For they are carnal and devilish, and the devil has power over them; yea, even that old serpent that did beguile our first parents, which was the cause of their fall; which was the cause of all mankind becoming carnal, sensual, devilish, knowing evil from good, subjecting themselves to the devil.

Xioba

Today is Tuesday- Fire Kupchak

I just got back into town after a three week business trip- New York, Amsterdam, London, Rome and Taipei. And I get back to the news that Kupchak is an incompetent ninny. Dr. Buss needs to put an end to this moron's career. He could not do anything as a player and he hasn't done anything as a GM. The Celts look good this year, but they are just one turned ankle away from mediocrity. It will be interesting to see if KG is any good now that he has help. Could it have been that he was good all these years since nobody else could put the ball in the basket?
When I get my legs under me from traveling I will talk about the Ballet class that I attended in the NYC.
Of note, I have zero personal emails and zero personal phone messages. I have a clean slate, but it is a bit sad.

Xioba

Today is Sunday- Rush all time greatest top 5 songs

I just got back into town- the NYC on business. It was a good trip, and I need time to think about it so that I can write about it. On the flight home today, I had the pleasure of rediscovering RUSH and in celebration of finding these lost friends I will give you my top 5 RUSH songs. For those of you that do not know, RUSH is a Canadian band from the seventies and eighties. Many teenagers gained self esteem and individual thought by listening to this band. Here is my top 5.

5. This song is the "Stairway to Heaven" of the progressive rock era. The opening riff and drums are so distinguishable that the first few seconds of the song cause many a middle aged man to reach for the air guitar and air drums. As the song progresses, mullets begin to sprout- even among the balding. The middle homage to Space Invaders is a classic sample. The drumming is incredible. It is a relatively short song for RUSH, but it is packed with everlasting endearment: Tom Sawyer
4. You can't help but follow Tom Sawyer with this song. It took me years to understand the meaning of this song- even though I can still recount word for word the lyrics. This song is very fitting for our society now: Red Barchetta
3. This song reminds me of "Bowling for Columbine". As a teenager, I remember sitting in my living room listening to this song and thinking that it was about my life. My lonely friday nights were comforted by this song, until it was replaced by the PUNK movement: Subdivisions
2. This song feels a lot like early Stereolab (Transient Random, Peng, Switched on). The guitaring and drumming are exquisite and are very appropriate today. The preachy and nonsensical words could have clearly come from Laeticia. The chorus is zen and transient: Vital Signs
1. This is the "Kashmir" of the canadian rock set. It is a long, long rock opera. In Fast times at ridgemont high, this song was clearly being played when Spicoli and his friends tumbled out of the van- plumes of incense bellowing out and up: 2112

I am glad to be home, and I am looking toward getting back to the office this week. I have not spoken to Nicolette since our weekend at the beach. I am looking forward to seeing her.

Xioba

Today is Monday- sunburnt shoulders

I would have forgotten that yesterday was fathers' day if not for the phone call that Nicolette had made. We had spent the morning in bed getting to know each other a bit better. We were telling stories to each other about moments of clarity during our childhood. She had recounted one particular moment when she was about 5 or 6 years old. It was Halloween and she and her brother had been preparing their costumes all summer, but had actually never worn them- it was a hot summer- so the anticipation had finally become reality. She was some sort of princess and he was a zombie fireman. She remembered feeling the rough, crinkled blue fabric of her dress on her legs and her chest; she remembered the long blond wig that tickled her nose and itched her face. She felt so beautiful and was very happy to be a princess. After what seemed like several hours of photos, they finally set off on their trick-or-treating. About half way down the block, Nicolette realized that she had to go pee, but she did not want to turn around. A 1/2 hour in, her full bladder was soon forgotten by the itchy, itchy skin. At first, she just scratched a few spots on her legs and arms until she was soon overtaken by what could only be described as 'like a fat person who takes one lick of an ice cream cone and then eats the whole barrel.' At one point, she realized that something was wrong when after the ringing of a door and the 'trick-or-treat' the woman at the door said, 'ah how cute, a zombie princess and a zombie fireman'. Nicolette was confused and insulted at first, but then the slight realization, knowledge that something was wrong overcame her. In a moment of panic, she pissed herself, and as, what she described as what most 5 year olds would do, she did not tell her parents. They kept walking around the block for what seemed to be another hour and finally arrived at home. Her brother ran into the room, screaming with joy. He threw the pillow case filled with candy on the floor and immediately dug into it- counting and grading the haul like some Hasid on 5th ave kneeling over ice.
Nicolette just dropped her pillow case on the floor, spilling and strewing the contents out like peanut shells on the floor of a bar- you know the one. She started screaming with sorrow. When her mother had finally realized what had happened, the only thing that she could do was to grab a camera and take a photo- a sad little princess, covered in blood and pee, weeping over spilled candy. The pee cleaned up easily- swabbed right up with an old towel-, the costume was thrown away and the newly scratched, open sores turned to scabs; but the real humiliation is that photo that is pasted into the pink photo album that sits on a shelf in her mother's house.
Once she had finished her story, I had started to weep. I could not help myself. I thought of Lili for just a brief moment; a moment that revealed the crack which then opened up the sore which was hiding all of my pain. The thought of my daughter having memories like these; of being awkward, unsure and having all of her dreams crushed by shitty fabric costumes. Why couldn't her mom have made the princess a nice, comfortable dress? Why couldn't she ask to return for one last pee stop? Why did my cousin force me to look at my sobbing, panicked face in the mirror? Why did he tell me not to cry and not to tell anybody? I was so embarrassed; men are not supposed to cry. The sight off snot on my face and coming out of my mouth made me feel so small and insignificant, but, he knew better, and I should not cry. I was so little, and I looked up to him.
Nicolette and I ended up spending the morning up at Spirit Rock. When I go there I remember why I love Buddhism and why I despise western Buddhists. The insincere, in-your-face happiness. The self important enlightened blabber and the good posture. Why can't Buddhists just be ok- not happy, nor sad, but happy and sad. We walked around the grounds for a while until I got bored. I couldn't tell if Nicolette was enjoying herself or if she was bored or what. Was she appeasing me?
We then drove over to Cowgirl and then back through Pt. Reyes and down to the beach house. I had the top down. I had remembered to put sunscreen on, but Nicolette did not. When we got back home, she was not happy. She jumped into the pool to cool off and I went into get the lotion, drew a bath and I changed the sheets- nothing like cool, fresh sheets to cool a sunburn.
I opened a nice rose' (goes great with german caviar) and told her that I drew a bath for her. She balked, but, I told her that the water had citrus, coconut and olive oil which is known to cool the skin. After finishing the bath, I made her lie on the bed so that I could lotion her up. The sight of her back with the huge chunks of white outlined by huge chunks of bright red was so amazingly beautiful. I could not stop looking at it. I kept putting lotion on the unaffected areas and I kept lightly kissing the sunburned skin until her discomfort soon turned to desire which overtook both of us.
I spoke to her gently and I enunciated each vowel with the tip of my tongue. My tongue made circles around the rim of the Riedel Tinto Reserva and I savored the aroma and sipped at the mineral laced grapes. Muscles rippled upward toward her shoulders and back down her back continuously. I was kissing her nape and the back of her ears and lobes when I accidentally spilled a drop of lotion into the glass; I don't think that she had noticed, so I drank the glass in whole and then dap, dapdap, dap, dap I covered her sunburned skin with white lotion and rubbed it into the drying, dying skin. The dragonflies, entwined and perishing, appeared desperately sad.
We took another nap, and by the time we awoke again it was late in the evening. It was too late to drive home, so we decided to stay the night and I would drive her home early on Monday morning- we did not want to risk being seen together at work. As we were fixing a small dinner, she made the call to her father. Sadness for me. No phone calls again this year. The worst part about it is that there was no anticipation or excitement of getting a phone call. It is something that I have not experienced for a long time, so it is now just a memory that has turned to sadness.
Nicolette's clothes were all soiled, so she looked through my drawers to find something to wear and she came across some of Sophia's old clothes- a pair of green panties and a white Xgirl tee. She did not even pause. She just put them on.
When we awoke in the morning, she put her skirt right on over the green panties and put her sweatshirt on over the tee. I guess she was keeping them. I stopped at her house, we kissed briefly and she got out and went inside. I did not see her at all today, and she did not call me.
I think that I should call her, but I don't know what to say to her.
Xioba

Today is Saturday- foggy beach

'Yellow panties' is napping right now. When I picked her up last night she did not look like she was happy to see me. Her hair seemed a bit lifeless and dull. Her green irises were tinted brown by the swelling redness in her whites. Her cheeks were a bit pallid and suggested a heavy heart. She had on the green sweatshirt (from our first date), some jeans and her green addidas shoes. She had a small suitcase. Before she got into my car, she put on a forest green and brown cable knit cap. Her ears peeked out from under it and tiny bits of hair tickled the air. She looked over at me, and for a brief moment a small butterfly-pang hit me. She leaned over and kissed me. The taste of her tongue and mouth told me that she had been crying.
'I am really happy to see you' I said.
She turned away, whimpered slightly, and said something which was eaten up by a deep sob.
The whole ride to the beach, I kept thinking that she was going to puke. I tried to find some music that might soothe her, but I finally just turned the sound off. We entered the gate to the beach, and the guard gave me an odd glance when he bent down to say hello to my passenger. I think he was shocked to not recognize her, and knew better than to make a grave mistake for my weekend. I gave him a thankful nod, and made a gesture of, 'I owe you.'
The sun was just setting when we entered the beach house. Fog had settled over the early evening and had cooled the light significantly. I showed 'Yellow panties' around and I told her that she should make herself comfortable. I went out to unload the groceries and to get firewood and wine. When I came back in, 'Yellow panties' was reclined on my chair. She was smoking and had what looked to be a tumbler of vodka. Her green shoes dug into the ottoman- which pissed me off- but made her seem more relaxed- which made me happier.
Fire on, music on (thank god for MacBook Pro and airport), wine opened, food out. My first cigarette, a deep breath and a shot of pappy. I could finally relax as well.
I came up behind her and kissed the back of her ear and nibbled the lobe. She leaned back into my kiss and let out a joyful sigh- just one small one. I sat down next to her and said, 'You know, I am sorry for your loss. I don't really know you that well, but I am truly sorry. I really like you, and I want you to be happy, so your sadness saddens me.'
Her face did not move, but streaks of tears started pouring out. She made no noise. Her lip quivered a bit, and her eyes began clearing. I told her that we needed to go on a walk on the beach. As the suns sets, and the ocean takes over the night, endless sorrow is devoured by the lapping, lap lap of the waves. The sea air gets into the blood and cleans the heart. And when the darkness finally grabs hold of joy's hand they will waltz till the sun peeks out from the covers and cries, 'good morning.'
On our walk we bumped into three of my neighbors. They were all clearly taken aback by my companion- funny how neighbors can somehow live your life. 'Yellow panties' (I need to start calling her by her name) was a good sport. She actually perked up, and asked if I was in a relationship. I told her that I had recently ended one, and that these people probably didn't know that. We chatted for a brief moment about Sophia, but I was quick to end the chat and I said, 'Listen, I know that I have only met you, but I like you. And, I want to be with you right now. And I want to enjoy my weekend with you.' She seemed to smile, and then she asked why I hadn't married- not that she wanted to get married. I told her about how I have never thought about it, but that I had deeply considered asking Sophia to marry me, but I just couldn't find the words. Once again, I reiterated with her that I want to spend the weekend with her, and that we should stop talking about my ex.
We made it back to the place and warmed up by the fire. The food was good, the wine was better, and the cigarettes and words made me very excited. When we finally started passionately kissing late into the night, she seemed to be more of herself. She was stripped down to her panties (black) and I was fully naked. I began kissing her neck, then breasts, and then her stomach. As I made my way down to her panties, she grabbed me and said, 'No.' She tried to pull me back up to her. I got a hint of why she had balked, and I said, 'I am ok with it, it does not bother me.' She seemed embarrassed, and unsure, so I calmly reassured her with a gentle whisper and slight kiss on lips and returned. Her black panties came off and revealed a freshly shorn delight. One small, fine white hair remained which I plucked and threw into the fire.
The hoot, hoot of a barred owl, eyes yellowed bright from moonlight, called out in the night. Its love, only a few trees away, cowered and writhed, bobbing and bouncing up and down, thrusting its head toward the carnal delight. The captured prey is offered to the mate and hoots fill the night air with wondered, puzzled elation.
The Striga of my Nonna's stories was a scary figure, but I was fascinated by the myth. My Nonna had told stories of how the Striga had raped her sister and made her barren. A giant beak and lustful claws ripped the fertility from her sister and carried them off into a full moon. The men of my Nonna's village had chased the Striga and killed off all the owls that they met. These men were killed off by the Black Caps who kept owls as pets.
Today we spent most of the day in bed. I haven't napped and lounged like this for many years. We took a few walks on the fogged beach, but most of the day was spent in bed, on the couch, or in the shower. Nicolette is a very sweet person. I feel very comfortable when I am in her. It is very easy and nice and her warm soft skin and smooth eyes make me feel very young and healthy. Should I feel this good?
Xioba

Today is Friday- the NBA is a joke

I just found out that the Spurs won the championship. I didn't watch a single minute of the series. You have a dirty, whiny, boring team against a flashy primo uomo. I imagine that is was a real snore, and probably the worst ratings you could have ever imagined. ABC and ESPN should cancel their contracts. I will be the first to put an "*" on this championship. Horry looked old and sad in the series against the Suns, but out of that one, old, dirty move, he guaranteed the win against the LeBrons. I already bet a co-worker that the Spurs would lose in the 1st round next year and that the Lakers would win it all.
'Yellow panties' finally called me. She was out of town due to some family emergency- great grams bit the dust. Something about a long battle with parkinson's and diabetes. She was in her early 90's. Hmmm. Let me do the math- Great grams was 90; grams would have to be 65 - 70; mom would have to be 40 - 45. I would like to meet her mom.
'Yellow panties' and I are going out to the beach house tonight. It was hot all week in the city and it should be more of the same over the weekend, so it should be a nice weekend. I wonder how she will be over an extended period of time. Will she every satiate?
I bought a couple of bikes today. Competitive cyclist.com rocks. So easy to order. Marcelo with record and Luigino with record. A little celebration for my promotion.
I think I like 'Yellow panties'. When she called and started to cry during her description of grams death, her voice sounded so sexy. I imagined silencing her sobs with with a little ORU and Khyber pass. I am pretty excited to see her.
Xioba