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

Today is Thursday- for real

Somewhere between the time that I got promoted (the reason for my meeting with my boss, hr and legal) and when I woke up this morning, I lost a giant chunk of my life. I tried blogging last night, and I am not sure what to say other than, wow. I can't even understand what I wrote, the english is bad and the italian is worse.
So, yesterday I was a nervous wreck all day long. I had called my friends and told them that I needed to go out and that we should meet somewhere after work. One of them suggested that we go to The Fratelli's show at the FilMO; so, we decided to meet at lil japantown at 7ish. I went on my way about doing work duties (very distracted). 'Yellow panties' was a no show again, so I was getting pretty pissed off. Just stewing deep down. At 5:25 I made the long march to my boss's office, and stood patiently. At 5:30, I knocked on her door and was asked to come in. She seemed happy, which was very odd to me, but put me in a relaxed mood. We chatted briefly until a knock on the door (my heart raced for brief moment) and Legal and HR entered- both women. We all sat down at the table and then my boss began speaking to me. I could barely hear what she was saying (I think my heart was pounding so hard that it was seemingly drowning out her words). Then it struck me, and I responded, with a bit of disbelief in my eyes, 'What did you say?'
She went on to talk about how I have been a star employee for the past 4 years, and that my team is exceptional and that it is time to 'stretch' me. I didn't know what to say or think, but I did remark on how usually anytime you are in a meeting with your boss, hr and legal it is probably not the best situation. We all chuckled at that. So, they wanted to promote me into Chief Operating Officer which would mean that I would take over a large portion of the business (R&D, Legal, HR, Production, Facilities, Logistics and a few others), but I would have to give up my Marketing department (this would go to my boss). I balked for a brief moment which made my boss throw the numbers at me. I accepted immediately, which I think shocked them, but I told them that the offer was very generous and that my loyalty toward our company made me not to want to negotiate. Legal and HR appeared to exhale at that point. My boss made a joke about my exceptional negotiating skills and that she was ready to try, so she was a bit disappointed. Her words made an idea come to mind. Here I am, a man who was just offered to be the #2 in our company, sitting in a room with 3 attractive, professional women (one my boss, and the two others my soon to be employees) and against better judgment I said that I did have one thing that I wanted to discuss and negotiate and that it was extremely sensitive and confidential, and that I trusted them to help me with the situation. I got their attention and then hooked them.
I started describing how my ex had dumped me and that it has been a rough couple of weeks. They had met Sophia in the past and appeared to like her, though I would guess that they were envious, or mad, angry, jealous (whatever emotion) since Sophia was about 10 - 15 years younger than them and shows it off. I think I might have dropped a slight tear at some point, and I might have paused a few times to gather myself which got them even more sympathetic toward me. And then I told them that I accidentally 'hit' an admin over the weekend. They were aghast and were in some sort of panic mode to figure out what to do. When they settled down, I said, 'no I didn't hit an admin, I screwed one.' I thought about talking about hummers and anal play and screams and moans, but knew that I shouldn't push my luck. Blah blah blah this that and the other and it turns out that since this admin is not under my umbrella and was not under my umbrella when I was in marketing, though it was poor judgment, there was no wrong doing. Turns out 'Yellow panties' is in finance. Whatever. We chatted more, I acted embarrassed and asked for advice. I talked about being lonely and vulnerable, and that it just sort of happened. We then stopped talking about it and refocused on my promotion. I need to give up marketing immediately and focus in on my new role- I will shadow the now departing COO for 3 months and then take on full COOship. My boss is a very capable marketer, so there is no worry about service in that area.
I left the office, I called 'Yellow panties' on her cell- straight to voice mail- and met my friends at japantown.
We were eating noodles and drinking sake and beer when one of my friends winked at me to come with him. We went outside to his car which was parked a few streets up at a meter and we got in. He put on some Steely Dan (I should have known at this point) and we had some pizza. He then offered me a rail, and against better self preserving judgment, I made it disappear with one quick, fluid, sgnffff. I remember looking into the mirror and seeing my magnified, crumpled face and I said to myself. 'Oh, this ain't good'. I can't explain the feeling other than I felt like I had been infested by something mean and awful and it made me want to open up my arms and bleed it out of me. Dread, fear, lust, hunger, insecurity on and on were all jumbled together in my head. Steely Dan on the radio and my friend, laughing and saying 'Good shit, huh, good shit' while slapping my back. Mother fucker, I will get even. I felt I could not speak, so I knew that I had to remain calm. I got out of the car (my heart was probably doing 180+) and I calmly walked back to the noodle shop. I could hear my friend yelling for me. Fuck him. It took forever to get to the noodle place, and I could see my little hour glass dripping the sand down. I did not have much time, but I could not panic. I walked into the restaurant, looked at my other three friends, and without saying a word, I reached into my wallet, pulled out $300+ and put it down on the table. I turned around and calmly walked out. When I finally made it to my car (in the parking lot) I could see the last bits of sand going around and around in that little bottle neck that is in the middle of the hour glass. I had to get in, start the car, find my parking ticket, get out cash, and find the correct song. I chose Kashmir. It is long, predictable and quite fitting. The last thing I remember is that I turned left out of the parking lot, and then lost myself somewhere after ' oh, all I see turns to brown........'
I woke up this morning and I was genuinely surprised that I was alive. It was shocking to me to feel the air in my lungs and to feel my damp, sweaty pillow against my jaw.
I need to stick to pizza and beer. I need to stay away from that house.
Xioba

TOdya is tHrusday-

flesh is a saddened ugle thing. The form is soft and easily made whereas stone which is very hard and not easily formed becomes very bea. Because a thing very rough and hard becomes soft and smooth almost to the point of giving more excitement then flesh. To make a form that that has flashes of what the person sees directly from tv and various things scenes- clock, darkness, wind. but each stimulus makes the person think of something. every thought becomes a new scene with flashbacks of both changing sempre.
Of a man thiat living alone were only have his memories to accompany him each day the idea of voices and pictures and letters makes him more and more crazy because these things show solo how many things there are int the world how when picture showing many things. When fatto where the birds and water what did they do? And now. How every picture is different world different time and different thing. So many things to many things to keep mecomnpany. When you have somebody you forget the surrouundings when you have only memories you notice more.
I want to cry. no the feeling of intense emotional pains climbs to my stomach, my throat, and nose and awaits in my eyes. teh acidic dryness my throat makes it very difficutl to speak and think. In between the half breathing and sobing I try and relax and push back the emotion. but in doing so images come to my mind images of such things as the books my father sent me, the trip we had to europe the dinners out on the town and how in each day the situations my family did those for me out love, yet I accepted the physical aspects and not the emoitonal. That makes me feel so heartless unforgiving and cold.
HOW MY FATHHer can be in the hospital with his health the way it is and the most important thing and he could worry more about sending books to me that will probably never be read.
I want to be in a wooden box of six feet or in a whire roon on an island dreaming teass and birds and flower.s
Do not lovers always overreach the limit of each other's lives, having promoised distance and chaste and home. We do not know the contour of our feelings, but only what informs it from inside.
Da una sola metafora puo nascere l'amore.
Fare l'amore con una donna e dormire con una donna sono due passioni non solo diverse ma quasi opposte. L'amore non si manifesta col desiderie di fare l'amore (desideria che si applica a una quantita infinita di donne) Ma col desiderio di dormire insieme (desideria che si applica a un'unica donna).
Amare qualcuno per compassione significa non amarlo veramente.
La sopia ha detto che un'uomo me conquista quando lui si cade ai piedi miei. Mentre lei dicevela, me ho risposto 'quando mi son caduto da fronte da lei ricevendo una taglia sulla mano mia'.
Two lovers in a place unaffected by any outside superfical infliuences there is the love they must choose to have one day for the other or suffer the other.
The one of the man in the room with bandages on his hands wrists and the serious of him ging through the actions. Use the mirror.
You are the alcehimist with the ever delicate fingers and stone. you are both mercury and sulfur yet you are seperate and combine also the suna nd the moon. you are the one that is both physical and emotional while being niether.
without you there is no end withot you no beginning.Your are the fall that decends upon winder yet your rise like that beautiful spring wind from which you are born.
Confuso per quanto riguarda l'amore- cioe anche lei me ha detto sempre di non prenderle in giro. ma chi e stato presso in giro da chi? sono io che e stato presso in giro da lei.

xioba

Today is Wednesday- tmj (tuesday night)

Grind, grind, grind. I woke up this morning and one of my back molars had a small piece chipped off. I was pretty stressed yesterday, but I had no idea it was this bad. The chip did not hurt, but I kept running my tongue over it all morning. My personality is defined by the feeling of the back of my teeth on the tip of my tongue. I was off all morning. I did not ride, I could barely think. I had a heaviness about me that the shower could not lighten.
My drive in was flooded with Smiths songs: 'Suffer little children', 'unhappy birthday', 'Please please please let me get what I want', 'Reel around the fountain', and 'Bigmouth'. I pulled over toward the parking lot before the bridge and kept going up the hill to the top. I put 'Bigmouth' on repeat, and quietly sat and smoked all of Sophia's leftover cigarettes- 7 or 8 of them. My chest felt constricted and tight and my throat had no lubrication. I kept spitting even though I had no moisture in my mouth. I was hot and sweaty, to the point that I had to take off my tie and shirt and let the cool air from the ocean quench whatever furnace was stoking in my diaphragm. I kept leaning forward onto my knees to see if I could get more oxygen into my head. I thought I should call 911, but I had no strength to pick up the Treo. I selfishly hoped that somebody would come across me, but did not care if they did so when I was alive or not.
The opening of Bigmouth sent me back many, many years to the warmth of radiated heat and orange light of my venetian apartment. Hours of tension between my roommate and me finally exploded into warm, smooth, patient breath-filled kissing. Her image filled my head with every 'bigmouth, lala la la' but the touch of her skin, the feel of her hair, her smell, the fond distant memory of a day spent cooking, smoking, chatting and screwing became as distorted as Morrisey's duet. I just can't find any substance- I can't remember anything of significance about this woman except the fact that she could never look me directly in the eye without a bit of nervousness. I can't remember what she tasted like or if she had ever said a kind word to me. And that saddens me. I only remember that I once spat in her face- pure, rejected bile coming from a hatred present before our simple relationship. I recall wanting to trap her with unprotected sex. She could sense this and was repulsed into moving to the other side of the country. When I caught up to her many, many years later, the image of her that I had preserved in my head for so many years was a perfect filter to my blindness on love. She still hated me, but she did me the service of listening to my petty whines. A sweat lodge. When we parted, and I walked out into the cool fall night, I realized that even though I had wasted 5 years of my life I was trapped with my future.
When I finally got bored of 'Bigmouth' I found track 1 of 'Going Away, ep' from Transona Five. Deftly re-robed, tied my tie and made the drive down into work. I did not realize it until I pulled into my parking spot and looked at myself in the rear view, but I had clearly been crying. It was a very odd sensation to see that I had cried but do not remember why. How does that even happen?
First thing is first. I went by that C's desk, but she wasn't there. Up to my office and I canceled all my meetings. I told my admin that I was working on reviews and strategy and that I needed the time. I called all my moles in the org, but none of them had sniffed any ill wind. Every so often, I would go by the C's desk until I finally realized that she was not in for the day. Probably with an attorney. I called her cell, but she did not pick up. I did not leave a message. I spent most of the day going to clublakers.com to see who the fuck that idiot Poopcock would trade for. Fucking moron. Why the fuck would you trade Bynum and Odom for Jermaine. It is kinda like G Dumbya and Iraq. You fucked up so please don't try to fix it. Just retire and let somebody who is more capable come in and clean up your mess. The site was down most of the day, some sort of debug error, but I kept going back to see anyway. I also did research on Mavic ES. Nice wheel. I went to craigslist and looked at all the lonely singles, and I checked my match.com account. Too many hits. When it was finally 3 I left for the day.
When I got home, I had forgotten that my cleaning lady came on Wednesdays and I startled her as much as she startled me. I did not see her car parked in front. I guess she gets dropped off.
She kept asking about 'Ms Sophia'.
I called my pizza guy to get more J, and spent the rest of the day waiting for him to arrive and for the cleaning lady to leave. I actually found some solace in my backyard. No smoking, no drinking. Just sitting quietly with nothing to do but to wait. When she left and the pizza guy came and left; I was left with my own lonely, lonely mistreated body. The first tiny bite of J put me into that heavy cloud of dry, anxious thought. I spent a few minutes trying to find my bearings on what my evening would look like, and then decided to clean my house- yes, it was just cleaned by my cleaning lady, but it needed to be cleaned again.
I cleaned the kitchen the downstairs bathrooms, the laundry room, the downstairs bedrooms, my office, the living room, the foyer, the family room, the dining room and then made my way upstairs.
In my room, folded neatly on my bed, like a pyramid, lay a jean skirt, a blue t-shirt, a brown sweater, one black bra and a white pair of panties which was delicately nested on top of the heap like a 'solitary cottage'. I could not take my eyes off of the panties and as I stared down my garden path toward their retreat, I noticed that embroidered flowers of purple peeked out from what would be the tuft. I made a generous offer, acknowledged my humility in the presence of beauty and graciously reached out and cupped the panties and lifted them toward my nose and mouth; as I drank them in, a deep heart-moan of tearless grief rumbled up from my soles and leaked out of my face- a distorted grimace that felt mask-like and shameful.
I could not close my mouth, so sharp air hit my newly chipped tooth and rang a nerve, felling me to my knees and causing me to finally relinquish my hold on feigned happiness. I wanted somebody to come by or call. I needed Dr. Kevorkian to pay a visit. The painful truth that I was alone made me sleepy, but my fear kept me far from slumber's path. After I finally fell asleep and then re-awoke, I put Sophia's clothes into what used to be her dresser.
I am not looking forward to sleeping alone tonight. I miss Sophia so very much, and I am now feeling the emptiness that I have created. My actions have stripped away the one thing that had potential to show me love, and now I am much worse off. I believe that I can make it through this trying time, but I do not want to put in too much effort. Probably an unrealistic desire.
Xioba

Today is Monday- A16

I called 'Yellow Panties' at around 3 PM and she did not answer. Straight to voice mail. At around 4:30 PM I got an email invite from my boss to 'Quick TB' on Wednesday, 5 PM. I looked at the invite and Head Counsel and the VP of HR were also invited. What the fuck. I wonder if 'Yellow Panties' said something to them. Fucking Bitch. I can't think of anything I could have done that was wrong, maybe a bit of bad judgment, but certainly not illegal. I made no promises to her when I came in her. Our legal system is so fucked these days, I mean you can't say 'hi' to somebody in the halls without getting sued. If you look at a small child on the street you get arrested. I will be ok. If she wants to sue she can sue the company. I think I would be ok. I would just need to get a new job which is not the worst thing. I stopped by 'Yellow Panties' on my way out and she was on the phone. She smiled at me but did not wave for me to stop. She just looked down and kept talking on the phone.
I couldn't read her mood. Was she embarrassed by what she wanted me to do to her? Was she embarrassed by what I was able to do to her? Was she embarrassed that I saw her most intimate spots and witnessed her orgasm face?
I called my admin and canceled my late meetings and then called Keith and told him to meet me for pizza- he has time off now before his new job.
When I got to the pizza spot, I had a glass of white waiting for me. Right down, quick.
I ordered a bottle: Alois (Campagnia) $72. Volcanic and oak undertones with a bit of pepper and raisin- at least that is what the sommelier told us. I did not taste any of that, but it was good. I ordered burrata (but it was just mozzarella), a margherita, and a romaine and chicory salad. We ended with passito and cannolis. The best part about this restaurant is that the wait staff and hostesses have amazing bodies, but they are not extremely beautiful in the faces. Easy to look at but not shockingly hot- except for their bodies. We ended up seeing two people from work. Similar to the wait staff at the restaurant. When I left I stopped by to say hi, and one of them just smiled at me and kept blinking. She did not say a word. It was very odd. I wonder if she knows 'Yellow Panties'. Bitch. Keith was supposed to bring me some replacement J, but he forgot. I am down to shake right now. It is like trying to put together a pasta with some egg noodles, a can of soup and a peach. You can do it, but it don't taste very good. My bourbon is low too, so all I got is a pack of cigarettes that Sophia left in the kitchen a few weeks back. I have my doctor's favor. I think I can make do for the evening. I am sitting here looking at my slightly swollen arm that is slightly peeling.
My tattooist is a master. His work heals so quickly. You need to be prepared to go see him though.
First, you make an appointment so that he can meet you and understand what you want. You then make an appointment and it is usually several months out. When the appointment arrives, you show up on time, but he is an hour late. He settles in and readies the area. He puts gloves on, cleans, adjusts, organizes and then takes gloves off and smokes. He puts gloves back on and gets the needles and tubes ready. He takes gloves off and he smokes. He comes back and puts gloves on and calls you in. He changes his shoes and puts on his tattooing shoes. Black. He forgets something and needs to go to the store. Changes shoes and he takes his gloves off and goes to the store. He comes back smoking and is carrying a bag of stuff and a Vitamin Water. Changes shoes and he puts gloves back on. Vasoline on the table, one, two, three, four small ink cups into vasoline. Black ink into four cups. Click on and off of the motor. Clear buzz, adjust the knob. Staring at my arm, finding the spot, finding the shape. Michelangelo supposedly looked at blank marble this way. He begins tattooing. He chats on and off the whole time. He is meditating and is zen and is off in another world and then he is present. His hand begins hurting, so he stops. Gloves off and cigarettes. Gloves back on and he begins again. When he is done, he is happy with his work and he sprays that yellow liquid soap on your arm. It cools it down and soothes the area.
The rattlesnake needs to strike before the rabbit gets fangs. I need to confront 'Yellow Panties' head on and see what she is up to. I want to call her, but there is no safety on the phone. I am safe at work. People trust me and know me, and I can confront her and it will not be weird. She has nothing on me. Her word against mine. She may have my DNA in her panties- I think they were pink. Does that count? I guess it would. Sort of irrefutable.
'Yes your honor that spot came from me.'
'Yep, came out of all three orifices.'
'I guess I am a bad man. I have not really thought about it before, but, I do like being bad. Besides, she asked me to, so doesn't that make me a good man?'
The rattlesnake needs some rest now. I need to be sharp in the morning. I need to find my advantage, I need to find my angle, she is nothing to me, she will collapse under the weight of my will.
Xioba

Yesterday was Saturday

Saturday afternoon. In prepping for my date with 'Yellow panties' I had a few Manhattan's- wild turkey, not pappy, I had a j (mellowed), and prepped the batter for waffles. I like this recipe that I found in Cook's Illustrated:
1 3/4 cups milk (Straus)
8 tablespoons cubed butter (Straus)
10 Ounces flour (King Arthur)
1 tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 teaspoons yeast
2 large eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Combine the dry ingredients. Milk and butter over medium-low heat until butter melts. Get to temperature that does not kill the yeast. Whip eggs and vanilla. Combine milk and dry ingredients. Mix, by hand, till combined- 10 whips. Combine egg mixture till combined. 5 whips. Put saran on the bowl and place in the ice box. In the morning, unless you killed the yeast, the batter will have doubled in size. Villaware (I use the square though the round one heats better). Yum.
I arrived at 'Yellow panties' house and rang the buzzer. She buzzed me in. Her flat was what I expected for a 20ish single girl. It smelled of potpourri and cigarettes. The kitchen looked unused. There were two coffee pots. She had a small TV with a DVD player built in. No visible land line. Her bedroom was on the small side, but looked very comfortable. No animals. She offered me a glass or wine- white burgundy- which I took. She asked me briefly about work and I immediately informed her that I do not speak about work when I am not working. She smiled a bit, but pressed the issue. I smiled and said nothing. I think that she got the hint.
'You look really nice!' I said to her which made color come into her cheeks which gave her a depth that I had not noticed before. Her eyes suddenly became very green to me and her hair was a gorgeous auburn, speckled with bleach. Her eyebrows were thin, straight wisps that stopped before the downturn of her brow. Her nose was long and narrow and had a small blemish. Her cheeks, now full with color, were long and hallow. Her neck, toned and lanky, led into her, wide and plump, chin which supported her lips which were as straight and smooth as her eyebrows but as plump and toned as her neck.
We decided on a wine bar south of downtown which had nice wines and various cheese.
We had a nice italian merlot which is better than the californian merlot. I am usually embarrassed to order the merlot unless it is italian. 'Yellow panties' doubted me at first- I think she is a bit of a wine snob-, but soon realized how delicious the italian merlot is with cheese. Burrata, triple cream (Cowgirl), and several hard cheeses (Romano, Bolognese and Sardegnian) . Quince paste, honey and apples. Quite nice.
We took several smoke breaks together and with each drag we loosened our grip from the tension. On the third break I offered her a j which she took without hesitation. I knew it would be a good night.
We shared some dessert and some Recioto and something chocolate.
It was still relatively early so we decided to go get some drinks. We went to some awful tourist bar at the top of a hotel. They had shitty ass bourbon, but I had a few anyway. Our conversation was pretty easy at this point, and we were actually laughing together. She told me of a story of how she and her brother would act out scenes of Toy Story for her parents. She would always play Woody and her brother was always Buzz Light. I guess that is pretty fitting since Tom Hanks is such a pansy. The conversation really aged me since I remember when I saw that film- I was high on mushrooms, corona and weed. All that I can remember is '....we need more monkeys......' which still makes me laugh and cry.
As we were looking out over the city, she remarked about how you could only see a few bright, bright stars, and that when she was growing up her family would go camping and the sight of the stars was shocking- 'so many', she had said. The rattlesnake smiled and said, 'you see that one bright star right there, well that is actually a planet. I have a nice telescope if you would be interested in seeing it a bit closer.'
I was not surprised by her answer but I was shocked at the immediacy of the response.
We drove back to my house. She fumbled with my Ipod trying to find something that she could listen to. She failed. I am old and my music taste is only for the 'gramps' of the hipster world.
At my house, I set up the telescope (let it cool down) and dimmed all the lights. I made a few bourbons and we shared another j. I went upstairs and brought down a sweatshirt, a cap and a sweater for her to put on.
'This is a really amazing house you have here', she said, 'will you give me a tour.'
I told her, 'go take a look for yourself, I am going to set up the view on the telescope.'
As I was spotting and focusing and finally coming upon our target, Jupiter, I could hear her coming downstairs. For a brief moment, I thought of Sophia and a small tinge of blackened loss colored my heart making me take a deep and long-needed sigh. I refocused on Jupiter and dreamed of looking for M4. Someday in more darkened skies I will attack the M's but, from my locale with the light pollution, it will be tough. I dream of clear air and darkened skies. Could 'Yellow panties' toss out her youth and move with me? Just then, she came up from behind me and her small, cool hands sneaked under my jacket and shirt- a furtive look into the future- at least what the future of the night held. I offered the eyepiece and asked her to tell me what she could see.
'a bright star and 4 small stars all in a line.'
I carefully came up behind her and opened up space in her sweater to reveal her neck and shoulder. I kissed her lightly, several times, and gently nibbled on skin.
When I awoke in the morning, I was startled by the body next to me. She was lying on her side, back to me. She had small tattoos of dragon flies (maybe 6 or 7) flying across her back- shoulder to shoulder. Her hair was shortly cut and revealed her 11's on her neck. She had a skinny waste and plump ass. Her legs were short and very muscled. This was not Sophia, and this realization startled me back into remembering the night before.
We kissed for a while under the watch of Jupiter. When we found our way into my house we had barley made it to the floor and she was pulling me into her. She was really, really loud. In my empty house, her screams echoed into the darkness upstairs- like a distant light from the moon, relaxed behind the western mountains, her echoed moans revealed the slight fear of the joy of a stranger. She was rough. She was scratching and biting into me which made my skin feel like it was detached from my bones. The sweat on our bellies pooled into her belly button, her eyes rolled slightly back upon herself, she deeply bit into her lips, her hands gripped and held on to my back and she swallowed her last scream and then released it with a husky groan- ending me.
As I lay upon her, half sleeping, the sweat on my back began cooling from the breeze from outside. We had left the door open. My neighbors will be pleased with me. We did make it into my room, and sometime during the night she woke me up. At one point, she said, 'Coach, why don't you take Johnny Boy from behind.' Wow. I was shocked and excited all at once. She has an amazing, sensuous ass.
Seeing 'Yellow panties' sleeping in my bed this morning, I realized how much Sophia bored me. She was not as exciting and voracious as 'Yellow panties'. She was so staid. Passion had left us long ago and had become routine humanity. I bit at the sadness that crept in. Choosing to ruminate on it later- a realization that familiarity is now replaced by a single, middle aged life.
I laid up next to 'Yellow panties' and wrapped my arm around her body. I began lightly kissing the back of her head. She stirred awake and rolled over to look at me. She smiled and her green eyes looked clear, and awake.
'Good morning!' She said. She began kissing me and scooted down and hummed a tune of youthful, bliss and arrogance.
We ate waffles and showered and I drove her home on my way to get tattooed.
When I dropped her off, she leaned over and kissed me and said. 'I had a nice time. I will see you tomorrow.'
I drove off and looked at her in my rear view mirror. She Walked into her flat and disappeared into the day.
My arm is sore and chewed up, but it is coming along nicely. It is a big commitment to get a sleeve.
I am over Sophia, and I am looking toward seeing 'Yellow panties' in the morning.
Xioba

Today is Saturday- chalk festival

I rode the trainer this morning- Kurt Kinetics, fluid drive. I oscillate between listening to music and watching images while I ride. Today, I had a slide show of all my porn. It was particularly tough to look at porn today since I am between rejection and satisfaction.
10 minutes easy ride (aerobic pace)
30 second right leg drill; 30 second left left drill; 1 minute rest. 3X
5 minutes hard gearing, 90 rpm. 2 minutes easy spin, easy gear
4 minutes hard gearing, 90 rpm. 2 minutes easy spin, easy gear
3 minutes hard gearing, 90 rpm. 1 minute easy spin, easy gear
2 minutes hard gearing, 90 rpm. 1 minute easy spin, easy gear
1 minute hard gearing, 90 rpm. 1 minute easy spin, easy gear
2 minutes hard gearing, 90 rpm. 1 minute easy spin, easy gear
3 minutes hard gearing, 90 rpm. 1 minute easy spin, easy gear
4 minutes hard gearing, 90 rpm. 2 minutes easy spin, easy gear
5 minutes hard gearing, 90 rpm.
10 minutes easy ride (aerobic pace)
I love porn!
Which reminds me of an interview that I had last week. I had seen this resume almost a month ago- typical: Stanford undergrad; Kellog MBA. Top tier marketing, consulting, start-up. They are all the same these days. All this schooling and experience, but these people are still fucking idiots. McKinsey consultants basically tell you what you want to hear, and if you don't like it they change their guidance to suit your needs. They charge a ton of scratch- inversely to their IQs. And they are not even nice. They are so flip and arrogant.
Anyways, this dude I interviewed had the same resume that hundreds and hundreds of people have now. They are all the same. Except, under interests, he listed Snowboarding, traveling, home brewing, hydroponics, pr0n. I remember laughing aloud and walking out to my admin to ask her to read it. She didn't say anything. I went to a few of my employees and showed them and they all said, 'looks good.' I showed my boss, but she said nothing. I finally found Keith (the dude that left) and he laughed and said, 'right on!' I knew I had to bring this guy in to interview. I needed to see this dude. I had my admin set up the usual protocol which was to have one of my team do a phone screen, and then have several of them interview with him and then finally put him in front of me. This is pretty standard for me as it puts a filter between me and the applicant and if they can make it past the first line of defense, then I can come in and say yes or no. In this case, I put him through my filter mainly to cool down my curiosity. I figured he would not make it by my team.
I usually set up 3 consecutive hour interviews and this dude was number 2 in the day. For the interview, I always frame the meeting by stating the purpose of the interview (see if there is a fit both for us (company) and you (candidate) in terms of skills, experience, needs, desires) and then I always offer up the choice (theirs) to either speak first to tell me about their experience, or to allow me to start asking questions by walking through the resume. Both methods allow me to pause and look at the resume and understand the candidate. Almost everyone chooses to speak first. Don't know why, I guess they think it shows leadership or some BS. This dude actually chose to allow me to ask questions. I was pretty pissed by this, since I had to clearly look through the resume and act like I remembered it and ask insightful questions.
Well, I started with his experience at Kellog and subsequent internship. 10 minutes in, I knew that I was fucked. This was going to be long and painful, and I have to give him his full hour out of respect. 30 Minutes in and I had not said one word yet. He had talked the whole time. During his speech, I was going over his resume and doodling on it and pretending to make notes. Every so often, I would look up and make eye contact and nod, smile, or furrow my brow. Once or twice, I would say, 'Would you please elaborate on .......' or something like that. With 15 minutes left, I finally noticed the 'interests' section.
I almost screamed with joy.
I jutted my body up and forward toward him where I was leaned back, deep into my chair prior. When I finally saw the moment, the tiny pause between words, I jumped in. ' I would like to focus on a few points, if I may?'
'Of course' he said.
'So (very vogue), when I look at your work and school experience, I get it. As you know, here at "blah blah" we value the employee's interests outside of work as well. Would you mind talking to me a bit about your outside interests?'
This dude turned as red as tofu soup. I was blown away by the instant color change.
'Listen, you know, that was poor judgment on my part. I didn't realize that that would get out like that.' He talked on and on about how it was a mistake, an accident. Meant as a joke. Blah Blah Blah.
The rattlesnake in me felt the tiny tingle of wounded prey and I coiled back.
'So, what you are saying is that you do not enjoy beer, pot and porn?'
'No, no way. Absolutely not. I drink wine and pot is illegal and porn is misogynistic.'
Fucking pussy. I mean step up. Don't put something on your resume that you don't believe in. I would rather hire some dude that admittedly parties, smokes and looks at porn, then hire some joker, pansy that back tracks.
The rattlesnake came out and just told him flatly, 'You are not what we are looking for.'
He tried to say something as if to change my mind and I just told him, 'Thank you for your time, let me walk you down to HR.'
That was a long walk for him, and during it I kept talking to him about this that or the other.
After the next interview, and when I got back to my office, just for sport, I called my team in and asked them what they were thinking by bringing in somebody like this. They were all embarrassed. And apologetic. One even said that they let him get through since I was so excited by his resume- I need to fire that moron. Yes man BS. I hate people like that.
I went to some chalk festival this morning. I met my friend Ed and his girlfriend Win. (Hmmm. I never noticed that before.) They brought their kids (I can't remember their names) and we walked around. I drank some Peronis (I like when places have italian beers) and looked at all the women in short skirts and t-shirts. Looked for whale tails and nip slips. Ed and Win's kids were good kids. They just patiently walked around and looked at the art. They got to work on a square of newly blackened street together. They got along and shared. Very strange.
At around noon, I remembered that I needed to get back home to get ready for my date, and I also remembered that I have a tattoo appointment tomorrow. I will bring my doctor's favor out with me and I will bring a j just in case. You never know.
Big weekend.
Xioba

Yesterday was Thursday- saturn, southern and bright

I have been struggling at work as of late. I have an employee who is not performing to my expectations and he is starting to make people doubt my abilities as a leader. I have been coaching this guy for about 5 months and he just doesn't seem to get it. I think he may have some learning disability. Anyway, I am working with HR, but of course due to our totally fucked country, we need to carefully document everything with this guy- fear of him suing us. He is also in a protected class. He is gay. I don't get it. I don't care who he sleeps with as long as he gets his job done. It is a shame that the people that are the worst performers are the hardest to get rid of; but, when you have a star performer, unless they get promoted quickly, they leave for more money and a better opportunity. I take care of my team. If they perform, they get rewarded. If they don't, I get tortured. I spend my days coaching and documenting. I must say, I will be very happy when this guy finally understands that he is fucked and that there is no chance he can escape what has already started. This rattlesnake has stopped shaking his tail, so be careful.
Wednesday night I had to do some volunteer time at a local Montessori school. Education is wonderful. Having knowledge and understanding of concepts and society and all the other BS our brains and actions create is truly, truly wonderful.
Thursday night I actually left work early. I canceled my meetings and went home at 2pm. I told my admin that only she and my boss could contact me. Fucking bitch obviously didn't hear a word I said. I spent the next 5 hours on the Treo, my personal cell and my lan line. Needless to say, I was very surprised when my doorbell rank. 'What the fuck!' is what I thought. When I looked through the security monitor, Sophia's beautiful face was staring back at me. She was smiling. I buzzed her in and hung up my phone. I was so surprised by her dropping in I didn't know what to do, think or say. As she walked up the to the landing, she said, 'I was calling you all day, but you never picked up. I called your admin and she told me you were at home.' When she walked up to me, her lips were the first thing to touch me. Not even a single knuckle, digit, fingernail or hangnail. Fuck. I knew that it was finally over. After a few awkward moments, I offered to make her dinner which she accepted. I made a nice mushroom risotto.
Three types of fresh mushrooms and dried porcinis. Soak the dried porcini in warm water and a splash of white wine. Chop fresh mushrooms. Ring out porcini and chop. Save broth. Medium heat. Saute the mushrooms in olive oil, butter, shallots, white onions. Deglaze with wine. Yum. Vegetable broth simmering. Carnaroli (abrorio if you are desperate.) Chop onion. Peel garlic. Mince parsley. Medium heat. Olive oil in pan which is held at an angle over the heat so that the oil pools. Once to temp add garlic. Extract all the flavor but do not burn. Remove garlic and place to the side. Pan back, flat on heat. Onions. Sizzle!. Sweat them; which means cook them till soft. Carnaroli. Stir. Coat each grain. Toasted. Add wine. Stir. Listen for rice to tell you it is time for more broth. You will hear. Add broth. Stir. Drink. Stir. Repeat. Rice whines for more. Ladle broth. Stir, drink, stir. About half way through cooking - the rice will have about doubled in size in the pan. Add salt and pepper to taste. Add mushrooms and broth, stir, drink, stir. Keep at it. Taste occasionally. You will know what you like, so right before you like it, add more broth and the porcini juice. Stir, drink, stir. Add a lot of butter- to taste, but alot. Beat the rice quickly with a wooden spoon. Keep whipping. Your arm will hurt. Turn off the heat. Put the lid on and let rest. When you serve throw on the parsley. During all this commotion, your partner will have made a salad and put out cheese and other delights. You are slightly drunk, and you will have tried to kiss her on the cheek. If she loves you, but is tired of you, you will get a peck. If she loves you, you make get some tongue. If she is over you, you will get a cheek. I got a cheek.
During dinner, we chatted like nothing had changed. After dinner, I asked what she wanted. She said that she came by to pick up her stuff. She needs to finally make a break from me. I just frowned and said ok.
My Dob had been outside the whole time cooling down, so it was primed and ready for some nice views. Sophia was upstairs purging my house of her life, and I was on the deck trying to find Jupiter or Saturn. Saturn was high and westward which allowed me to have brief views of her. Jupiter was south and bright. I could not believe how bright. At first, I found Antares. Then after more sighting, I found Jupiter and her lovely moons. The mother duck and her four babies wading through the night. I thought of Sophia and I and how we would not have any baby ducks. A tear dropped on my eyepiece and sent my view into chaos. I kept sighting on Jupiter with the hope that that would be Sophia with our children. I ran up to get her so that she could look into our future and perhaps change her mind. She came down, was blown away by the sight. 'Are those moons?' she asked. I ended up seeing one of the lower bands but no spot. When Sophia had finished disassembling our memoris, she left with abrupt awkwardness. I think she was sad, but she needed to just leave. I gave her a hug, and I could feel her holding in her breath. I wanted to tell her that it was ok and that she could breath, but I just couldn't. I am too tired from work to work on myself right now. We told each other that we would see each other around, she walked downstairs, got in her car and drove off. The end.
I put my telescope away and went straight to bed.
This morning, I found that a bad mood had crept upon me in the evening. I did not want to go to work, so I checked my schedule- the treo is such a good tool. Turns out, I had my weekly TB with the guy I am firing and I also had a lunch date with 'yellow panties'. Holy shit! I totally forgot about my lunch date, and I had almost forgotten about 'yellow panties' over the past few days. I have been way too stressed and busy. Turns out it is going to be a good day. Made the drive to work in record time. Labradford and 'waltzing matilda' on the pod. I sped through my morning meetings and made it to lunch in record time. I was whistling waltzing matilda on my way to her desk. When I came upon her, she seemed to be disinterested and annoyed by me, and even asked, 'May I help you?' When I told her that we were having lunch today, she said, 'Oh is that today? Give me one second.' Fucking lier. She got up to go and I could tell that she knew we were having lunch. Paul Frank sweatshirt- green. Jean skirt, tight. Green Adidas. She had a small tattoo on her foot- I could see it peeking over the shoe tongue and laces. Peek-a-boo! Her hair was short and brown and was done up to look like that chick from 'a bout de souffle'. The elevator came; I allowed her in and got my first inhale of her; she still had that hint of honey, tea and tobacco, but, a new scent was coming across my pallet and it made my nape tingle and arouse.
I drove us over to 'ghetto' burrito. Every time I go there, the grill guy is cooking shrimp and chopping carne or pork or chicken. I ordered a super vegetarian burrito with green rice, hot salsa, black beans, everything with no sour cream and avocado. Yes, and guacamole too. One medium aqua fresca- lime. She ordered al pastor and a red jarritos. Fork, green salsa, and meticulous eating. Hold the burrito up, like a tree, fire plug, or Italy. A bite to open the burrito up. Squirt in green salsa. Use fork to eat down into it. Bite off and eat empty tortilla. Repeat. She ate her burrito like a whore. She was messy and disorganized, the burrito was collapsing around her and her hands were covered in juice, salsa, guacamole, rice, beans, and sour cream and lettuce. She used a pile of napkins.
We actually spoke the whole time. I framed the date by saying that we could speak about one work related issue, but that I was considering this to be a date and I wanted to get to know her. She was pretty surprised by this, but was open to it.
23 years old.
Born and raised in San Mateo.
SDSU for college.
She is a singer and a dancer- salsa.
She is currently single and has just moved into her own place.
She is an admin but wants to get into program management.
Her parents are divorced and she has a brother.
She said that she feels very uncomfortable at work and has no friends there.
When we drove back to work, I asked her if she would like to do something over the weekend. I was surprised when she said that we could meet for a drink on Saturday night or we could meet for brunch on Sunday. I thought to myself: 'How about both.'
My TB with my employee was a complete joy. He tried to make a joke when we started and he could tell that the rattlesnake was not joking around. He chatted for a while, mainly excuses about this or that. We ended by me telling him that I needed him to be at a certain level, and that I was worried that he was not willing to get there; or that he could get there for some reason. I told him that over the weekend he should think upon whether or not he is willing to get there, or if he can't get there then what does he need from me to succeed. He was pretty shaken up, and I felt good.
I stopped by 'yellow panties' afterward and asked her where she wanted to meet on Saturday night. She didn't know, so I picked a place for us and said that she could meet there, or I could pick her up. She wanted to get picked up. 'Bring your overnight bag' I thought to myself. We exchanged the digis (she said it, I didn't) and we had a date set.
I got home a few hours ago, and I feel pretty good. I want to get some sleep. I will have one bourbon, and I will wake up early in the morning and take a nice, long ride.
I guess I didn't really love Sophia since I have not thought of her all day. And, the thought of seeing 'yellow panties' makes me very, very happy.
Sophia is Saturn, elusive in the southern sky on a calm June night; while Jupiter is 'yellow panites', simple, stunning, simmering with eggs balancing, waiting to get fertilized. 'Yellow panties' and I will have stunning children, and I will help her become a program manager. I want to look at the sky tonight, but I feel that I have already found what I want.
Xioba

Today is Tuesday- white fixie

I am holding a picture of Sophia; it is a photo that she gave to me, during one long weekend, when we first started dating. I remember the weekend pretty well.
Friday night; there was a group of my friends and of Sophia's friends.
We had all met at some charity event the weekend before. We were rebuilding some school. I was painting walls and finishing floors. Sophia was working in the garden. I was sweating pretty badly, and when I went outside to get some fresh air and have a drink of gatorade I saw Sophia. She mentioned something about sweating and hard work and I replied something to the affect that 'back breaking' work is good for the active mind. Afterward, a bunch of the volunteers were going for burritios and beers, but I had ridden my bike down and I didn't feel like riding after a big meal. I was convinced (which is pretty easy to do) to join the group and I was assured that I could get a ride back home. In the end, after we ate and drank, all of my promised rides began to diminish until I was left alone. I was pretty pissed off since I had just spent a good 8 hours sweating away at some public school and now I had another 20 miles to ride back home in the dark and cold; and I had the fixie- white le gitane.
On my ride back, I came upon some hot chick in an Audi. She was stopped at a signal, smoking and looking at her cell phone. I rolled up next to her and we made eye contact. I recognized her immediately as the girl from the garden and the burritos and beers. We waved at each other and then she pulled over and ended up offering me ride home. I didn't even try to dismiss her.
The ride home was pretty pleasant and when we got to my house, I told her that I owed her dinner for her trouble and I gave her my business card and told her to call me; I shut the door, got my bike out of the trunk and started to go upstairs when she honked and waved me over. She had my business card in her hand and she was thrusting it toward me which made my stomach drop. I wondered why she couldn't just throw it away. I was relieved when she handed it back to me with her number and email address and she said, 'No, you call me when you are ready.' We said our goodbyes and she was off.
I gave it about 10 minutes- enough to get a beer and a J- and I called her. When she answered I explained myself and said that I was ready to take her out. We agreed on Tuesday night.
We went out Tuesday and Wednesday and then met our friends from the week before on that Friday.
The whole evening, I felt anxious and uneasy being around Sophia, and the whole time I just wanted to take her away and kiss her. We were at a bar- the one with the guy who wore a suit and dressed like a devil. He never said anything, ever. I think he used to wear a hat as well. He had long disappeared or died or had been committed by the time Sophia and I spent the evening there with friends, but I think there might have been a photo of him near the bar. It was early fall, but we were all dressed in sweaters. I was wearing my black 'dock worker's' cable knit sweater. Underneath it I had on my black 'Dare' t-shirt. I had on Diesel jeans which I always wear. I am so obsessive at times. Costume ankle boots, brown.
Sophia was wearing a dark brown dress with some sort of floral markings. She had a white cashmere sweater. Her shoes were heeled and made sense with her clothes. Her hair was up, and she had a tiny splash of makeup on her cheeks, a few dark lines on eyelids, and her lips appeared to be moist but natural. I couldn't stop staring at her all night. We remained separate the whole evening, but on the occasion where we would come close to each other she would always reach out with her hands and touch my hand, or touch my leg, or my shoulder, or my elbow. The night went on and on until it was finally just the two of us alone together in the bar. I could barely get my words out as I was so overwhelmed with joy and urgent emotion. I asked if she would like to spend the weekend together out at my beach house to which she agreed, but said that she needed to go home for the night and we could meet in the morning. Of course.
Late Friday night, early Saturday morning, I went to the store for supplies for the weekend. Water, salad, pasta, veggies, fruit, fakin, snausages, eggs, juice, bread, olives. Saturday morning, around 9ish, I picked her up at her house. We took the long way to the house, so that I could stop by and get some cheese and some other necessities. I have plenty of wine at the house. Probably around 400+ bottles. Mostly Italian and French. I love Californian wine but, it is too 'big' for the beach. I am pretty weak with Spanish and Australian.
All weekend we read and cooked and drank and smoked and listened to music and walked on the beach and played cards and then we did it all over again well. We were in bed early. I gave her the master bedroom (Dux) and I took one of the other guest rooms. On Sunday morning, I could hear her in the kitchen. She was trying to make some coffee, but she couldn't (maybe didn't want to) figure out how to work the machine. I got up and walked out into the other room and there she was- her hair was up (as usual), her glasses were set lightly on her nose and were masking the sleep from the night before, she had on a brown t-shirt which was too short on her arms and too short for her body; the chill of the morning was creeping up; her black panties were taught and smooth. She was all legs, arms and neck. I think I actually turned my head down in embarrassment. I fixed her coffee for her and got the morning rolling. I made breakfast and prepped for lunch. We chatted the whole day, and it was so natural that I can't remember what was actually said. After lunch, another walk on the beach. Then an early dinner and cleaning up the house.
On the way back to the city, I stopped at the pub- the one near the Buddhist farm- and we got a few pints. We sat in the back on those uncomfortable wooden benches- I felt like I was in church the whole time, and based on my thoughts from that evening, I am damned.
We ended up taking a walk out on the grounds. I remember the sounds of our footfalls on the fall shrubs, the smell of the damp peat and the cold drips- tears of acknowledgment from barren trees that it is going to be a harsh winter. The cold was frightening in its warmth and the darkened sky was speckled with the knowledge that the present is precious and we are fleeting. The night birds and spiders surely blushed from what happened next.
We started kissing. It started with a slight touch of her hand on my face and then we were entwined. At first, we were slow, but deep in our kiss. Our tongues were so supple and smooth while our lips were firm. I opened my eyes to look at her and she appeared to be drifting off like low flying clouds in the night. We became more deliberate in our approach, and my hands became more liberal in exploration. Before I knew it, I was on my knees and I was digging my face deep into her crotch. She did not protest, but seemed unsure, so I did the right thing. I unbuttoned her pants to reveal her black panties and then I buried my face deep into the warm, smell of her beautiful pussy. Somehow (ingenuity is the something of invention), I was able to get one leg out of her pants which allowed me to get full access into her. I was kissing, and tonguing, and nibbling her labia through her panties; I would only pause to take deep, deep breaths of her. Her scent rolled right over my pallet and deep into my heart. Her panties were now a deep, dark black and loose enough around the edges to allow my tongue to slip in to get a clean taste of skin and hair. I continued to eat deeply into her, and I cupped each ass cheek in the crook of my arms and did not let go until she came. She screamed slightly, and thrust her arms down upon my shoulders as if to escape the pangs of ecstasy.
Her purse had fallen from her shoulder and had spilled its contents onto the wet ground.
As I slowly regained my awareness, I could see a small photo on the ground looking back up at me. It was a photo of a small child. She was sitting on a small chair and was intently looking at an object. She was shirtless, but was diapered. The light from the room daubed her face and her hair and set the mood as being warm and welcoming. The child's eyes were focused, serene and curious and showed that she was peaceful, content and cognizant. I reached down and picked up the photo. Sophia said, 'That is a picture of me. My dad took it of my one Sunday evening.'
Xioba.

Yesterday was Sunday- some shitty street fare

I spent the day Saturday cleaning up my house. I just got a new airport and airport extreme on the Mac and I set it up so that I could wireless into the Bose. I set it to 'shuffle' and pushed play. 8953 songs over 25.6 days. Seems like a lot. I like the shuffle setting since it allows me to listen to things that I always forget that I have, but the worst part about it is that it pairs Fugazi, the 6ths and Arcade Fire (who I can't stand, but Sophia gave me their Funeral disk)- I am not sure if it actually did do this pairing, but you get the idea. Anyway, you get into some groove and then all of a sudden you listen to something that you don't want.
Back to Arcade Fire. I am not a big fan. I know that they get critical raves and all the fashion magazines like them and their shows are amazing blah blah blah. But, seriously, the first time I heard them, I immediately thought of the Dead, Dave Matthew, Live, Pearl Jam, Cold Play and U2. Bands that get critical praise, and are touted as 'Live' bands, but, bands that are soulless, insincere and boring.
I went to a Dead concert many, many years ago at Shoreline. I took too much acid and smoked a J with a dude who was 'deflowering' me- it was my first show. I stripped down to my shorts and spent 2 hours walking from one end of the amphitheater to the next. I was trying to escape the miserable, miserable sound that would not stop. The chick I was with was getting all pissed at me, but I could not get far enough away from the noise, but also couldn't leave- she drove me down. Sadly, the outhouses were my only refuge, but the refuse, heat and stink inside of them were only slightly worse then the music outside which made me tolerate it for only so long. One or the other, at some point you need to choose. I remember the mounds of poop, toilet paper and bloodied rags made me feel very sad for our world. When the show finally ended, I was so pleased that I started shouting and shouting. I was sunburned, I stunk, my feet were disgusting and I lost all my stuff, but I was finally free.
On the drive home the chick (Rachel or Annie) was so pissed at me. She kept complaining about how I ruined the show for her since I would not just sit still and listen to the music. When we got back to her place she wanted to shower, but I opted for a bath which ended up disgusting me since I was so darn filthy- the water was so dark and nasty, but it made me feel oddly comfortable. It brought me back to a moment in my childhood when my father returned from a month long trip in India. He was tired and he smelled of carved wooden elephants and spice. All he wanted to do was to take a bath. I sat with him as he bathed. I missed him so much, and all I wanted to do was to fill up my head with his image; he just sat in the bath, his head down and droopy from being away from his family. He seemed to be a bit sad; kinda like he just lost 30 or so days of being with his kids. He probably did the math in his head and determined that that was a rather large price to pay considering that over a lifetime, you don't get too many days with your kids.
Back to the Dead show. After the bath, I had a quick beer, another J and then I fucked the chick in the ass. When I finished, she became even more pissed at me, but, even with the really speedy acid, I just passed out. For whatever reason, she let me sleep undisturbed and then kicked me out. Friggin Deadhead chicks are so annoying.
I imagine that Arcade Fire shows are very similar. A bunch of boring, annoying, self important music. I am sure they sell fancy beer and have clean bathrooms, but in the end, you just want to go home, get laid and pass out; and in the end you are too embarrassed to tell your friends that you hated it.
I can hear it now, "Man, you have no idea what you are talking about. To see [insert band here: Cold Play, Arcade Fire, Dave Matthews, U2, the Dead, etc.] live is the most incredible thing. They are so much better live then on disk. I saw them on December 12th in Los Angeles and then on December 13th in Anaheim. And both days were the most amazing shows, yet totally unique and different......." ad nauseam. I guess this is where we learned tolerance to humanity.
My simple and very accurate retort would be, 'Well, yes, I see and appreciate your point of view, but in my opinion, if a band is different every time that they play live then they must not be very good. Seems more gimmicky and false. Come to all our shows! We need your money.'
Didn't Cold Play rip off that song that everybody likes from some Chinese chick band. The best acting Gwyneth ever did was to play a severed head in Seven. I think Keven Spacey and Brad Pitt conspired on that last scene so that they could end the un-acting tour de farce. I guess she won an oscar, is wealthy and has an accent now so she is definitely better than me. I bet she is good in bed. But, at some point, even that surfer dude is going to get bored of hitting that and he will stray. Off into Sting's secret, magical, organic garden with the cook or the seamstress or the admin; eighty times higher than the moon; nightshades and legume salads with the hired help; touring to escape the un-ending tour de farce. She does have a nice, small waist, but her belly button seems to be odd shaped. She was good in that movie with the guy with the mole on his face. He is funny. I think she played the same character in that movie and the other movie about the gay kid that moves in with the shrink. I liked the scene with the cat under the hamper. That cat was so peaceful, a true Buddhist.
I have a story to tell about a cat, but I will save it for later.
Remind me.
Yesterday I went for a ride early, it was cold and then it was hot and then cold again. I was sweaty and stickily sweet from cytomax, so I got attacked by wasps on the top of the mountain and then got passed by some 'Pros'. In the home stretch, the fog and wind and rain hit me hard. I had already bonked and did not have a lot left in me. I got stuck behind a big yellow school bus with fluorescent flowers applied all over it.
After a quick shower, I met some friends at some street fare in the city. White tents, grilled food, beer, wares and tons of yuppies. It was a cool day, but all the 20 and 30 year olds were all wearing short, tight revealing clothes. Much like the Dead show at Shoreline, I kept going from one end of the fare to the other- doing 'laps' like we say in Italian.
Except in this case, I was trying to find somebody and not trying to escape a horrible noise. I knew that Sophia would be at the street fare since it was close to her flat.
One lap, then two laps.
Clockwise, counterclockwise.
My friends were pissed at me. They just wanted to meander and drink and look for single women. I was ruining their day, but, I was too obsessed with finding the magic combination of laps and luck so that I could bump into and see Sophia. For hours I wandered about. Changing direction every so often. When I finally did see her, she was with her friends and she looked happy and easy. I don't think that she saw me, and I positioned myself so that I could continue to watch her while avoiding discovery. I ducked into a shop when I feared she may come my way.
And then she was gone.
In a moment of panic, I scanned and searched the surroundings. I could not see her, so I phoned her. Her end rang three or four times and then she answered.
A simple, 'Hello there.'
By her voice and intonation, I was unclear of how she felt; in a moment of pure moronic thought, I told her the truth.
'I am at the street fare and I just saw you with Stella, Paola and Trish and you looked really happy and content, so I hid from you. I didn't want to disturb your day, but I wanted to say hello.'
'That is so sweet, I mean, not that you hid, but that you were watching me.' she said (she actually seemed happy to speak to me.)
'You know what, I can't really speak right now. Can I call you later?' she asked.
Once again, in complete idiocy I truthfully told her, 'You know what, I just wanted to say hi and hear your voice. Listen, I don't like being away from you and I really, really miss you, but unless I clean up my behavior we won't have a chance. And I want a chance to be with you.' (or something similar).
We chatted for a few more seconds and then said goodbye.
I don't remember what she said to me, but I can tell you about how I felt. My ears were ringing a low pitched, shallow ring. I had dry mouth and my pulse was approaching an anaerobic pace. I had a horrible sense of dread and disease settle into my mind. I wanted so desperately to run up to her and grab her and kiss her and plead for her to come home. I wanted her friends to watch me kiss her and have them envy her. They would cry and applaud and then shoo us off into our chariot, and we would be happy.
That is what happens when you date Gwyneth. You could cheat on her and beat her and lock her in a dungeon, and call her names in front of the children, but if you ran up to her in a crowded plaza and threw white roses at her feet and genuflected like a miscreant who saw the light (in my case, I would bend down to catch a glimpse of the white poof of her panties under her skirt) she would forgive you and take you back. Win her back with fake dramatic lighting, extras and some compressed, shoddy, simple dialog and all would be forgotten. Have her act out the part of being the strong, liberated woman that can forgive.
When you date real women, you can't be fake, it just ain't right. It is disrespectful to men. We have come too far to get caught up in the heartstrings of some shitty movie that made us cry many years ago. I want Sophia to know that I am not some pussy whipped moron that will say anything to her to have her come home and 'coccolare' away my insecurities. I want her to recognize that though she has come a long way since Lucy I am still willing to be a man and drag her home with a club and some long hairy arms. I want her to know that I am working on myself and I am doing it for her, but ultimately, it is going to make me better which will make her want me more, she won't be able to resist. I am not going to change the way I think for her, but I am willing to listen to her needs and then meet them with manly hands, thoughtless words and shallow emotions.
She is so hot. She was glistening in the sun. She appeared to be slightly drunk and swathed in sunblock and lotion. I could see that she was not wearing a bra and her skirt was cut just above her knees. She has great knees. So bony and sharp on the sides and smooth and round on top. Like Brilliant diamonds.
Going home half drunk after a long day of looking at 20 year olds in tank tops is tough to do, but it was the right thing to do.
Monday at work was pretty busy, but I did manage to stop by 'yellow panties' and we are having lunch on Friday.
Xioba

Today is Saturday- remorse

I slept from around 8 pm until noon. That is some crazy sleep for me considering I usually run at about 4 - 6 hours, and if I am lucky 8 hours. So, to get in almost 16 hours of sleep is impressive. I am looking forward to getting some more sleep tonight. I actually just want to go back to bed and see if I can wake up tomorrow with that sore, groggy body feeling. I want to go outside tomorrow, maybe go for a bike ride, and see if I can breath clearly and see if the light hurts my head.
I awoke this morning to a sense of dread, or remorse, or regret from my posting of yesterday. I was thinking about it prior to falling asleep and it was the first thing that I thought of this morning. I spent the last hour or so focusing in on the issue and I think that I narrowed it down to one really repugnant, distasteful and puerile (I like the way this word sounds. It sounds so, 'adult' and wise) account. I owe an apology to myself. I should not have been so quick to state that I am a bad, awful person. I did feel a bit awkward when driving by Sophia's house, but in a strange way, I had hoped that I would see her. I wanted to see her walking into her house; walking out of her house; walking with someone; walking alone; driving; parking; pausing to clean her glasses; kneeling to buckle her shoe; stopping to reposition her shopping bags on her hands. I really needed to see her, and I am too proud at this moment to call her up; and, she is clearly too proud to call me; so we are at an impasse. No, I don't think that that is the right word. We are both clearly making a decision which is to not call the other, and I am assuming that she wants to see me, but is too proud to call or come by. What if she does not want to see me and she is not calling me since she has clearly moved on and is finished with me. I am not sure if that is an impasse, rather, it is a fait accompli- keeping it in the French references even though I am not a big fan of the French.
Mi son Venezian'!
On May 16th, Napolean put his mark upon the souls of the Venetians when he said, ".....the Winged Lion of Venice must lick the dust."; and then he kidnapped our Noble Lion and Steads and hoisted the shit rag above our square. When Zizou tried to break the 'Lecce Stone' it was in response to what the French already know- our Lion and Steads are the true father's of the French population, and Paris is a Venetian suburb. Zizou's header was another attack on our great City, but as all things French go, he was not man enough to conquer us. Just like Napolean, he was returned to France a tired, frustrated and helpless man.
If the weather is clear tonight, I will bring out the Dob and look for some dark fuzzies. I had always wanted to star gaze with Sophia, but she never seemed to be interested in it. I wonder if 'yellow panties' would be.
Xioba- Forza Italia!

Yesterday was Thursday- goodbye party

Last night I went to a going away party for one of our employees. Keith Andrews had been with the company for at least 6 or 7 years and was well liked. He was one of the guys at work that would make me laugh, blush and smirk all at once. We would go to lunch once a month or so and just talk about the hot girls at work. We had our top 20, but really focused in on the top 10. Our top 5s were very similar but not equal. 'Yellow panties' was my #1 while she was top 5 for Keith. He preferred the blonds while I am partial to the browns.
We had 4 or 5 favorite places for our monthly lunch. Yesterday, our last month together, was at a tofu house. The smells and tastes brought back many good memories of lustful speak. I would always get the Kimchi with soft tofu, no meat, extra hot. If you have never had tofu house soup, I highly recommend that you try it, but when you do be warned not to eat it immediately- let it cool down for a while. The meal is brought out in waves. First wave, hot, hot green tea. Second wave, cold, cold kimchis (9 or 10 types). Third wave, the rice which is bluish in color and is served in a clay bowl that sits upon a sort of wooden platter. The rice and clay bowl are so hot that the wooden panel is charred and smoking. Final wave, the tofu soup- the best way to explain it is a cup of lava. Bubbling and gurgling and rolling about and as red as clay bricks. The soup is also on a wooden plate that is smoking. After about 5 minutes you can venture into your first bite, but be warned to not to try to cool your mouth with the tea as the tea is also very, very hot. When you can finally pallet the soup, you get an incredibly, exquisite sensation of flavor, heat, spice and texture. The kimchi is intense, the tofu is silken, and the rice is the perfect pillow. When I eat her I am sweating the whole time, and I can't stop eating. It would be perfect with an OB, but I have not drank during work for several years. I will remember Keith and my conversations over this soup for many years. Much like the combination of flavor and heat of the soup, our conversations were lascivious, genuine, heartfelt, funny and painful. We would talk of eating pussy right after finishing our final thoughts on surfing or biking. We would talk of ATM before talking genuinely about how to make ourselves better managers. You get the idea.
We met after work at a bar. There were plenty of people from his area there and several others from the general population at work. I met and spoke with a few people that I had never seen before. They were all sincere and nice to be around. There were, of course, a good representation from our Top 20. This made me happy. 'Yellow panties' was not there.
Keith and I did notice the 18 year old (maybe 19) in the tight blue dress. She was a footer (meaning she went 6') and she was all shoulders, legs and overly styled hair. Her bra kept peaking out from under her dress. At one point, she came over behind the backs of the people at her table, and knelt down by us with her back to us. She was posing for a picture, and I hope that the photo captured Keith and I staring at her. How can I explain this in a way that would make sense to the common reader? When she bent down, her dress lifted slightly to show off her calves and thighs- tight, coffee skin with subtle striations of muscle. Her thong, which appeared to be ruffled and which was visible through her cotton dress, was too small for her body and allowed my imagination to go deep inside of her. Her backbone and ribs protruded out, but were a nice foil for her small breasts. Her neck, shoulders, arms, and elbows were all awkward and stiff which told me that she was a virgin.
I feel dirty talking about her right now, and I envy the person that will make her cum one day.
The night ended by me drinking far too much and having to drive home. On the way home, I thought about driving by Sophia's house, but I could not do it. I just needed to make it home so that I could savor the sight of the blue dressed virgin.
Today at work I was sad and distracted all day, so I canceled all my meetings and just focused on my work. I was able to get caught up for the first time in weeks. I answered and read all my unopened emails and I caught up on all my reviews. By 4:00, I was done and ready to go home. I decided to drive by Sophia's house on the way home. Her car was not there. I ended up stopping by a bar near her house with the hope that she would come in. After a few drinks, I decided to go home. On my way out of the city, I thought that I saw her car. Butterflies and heartburn. I really miss her, but I am too much of a slimy pig; I am an awful, awful man that dehumanizes women; I am a horrid person that only thinks of lust; I am very aware right now that I may lose Sophia if I don't change. I can't stop thinking of 'yellow panties'. I need to act on her.

Xioba