Wednesday, July 23, 2008

The relationship machine

I am timorous and cowering as I put up this new blog after a week's absence.

My computer broke down and it took three trips to the shop and back, and even then, the &^ ing thing went kaput and I found out how really stupid some Bell IT guys are and the only ones who seem to have any real skill or knowldge are Indian ladies named Shehiroz or Kareema.
I will never mention the Pakistani quota again, even though we don't have one in Canada. It was only because of a lady from Pakistan that I got my modem to work right." Blue cable, Sahib. From Bell." Hey. It works!

Then my own IT guy who somehow thought my blog space was my home page; ah well. Learn as you go.

So I am nervous as a cat as I type this, having serious thoughts about taking up the priesthood or becoming a shepherd.

The priesthood because I met this knockout blonde, spent Sunday morning with her and now that she is home and I am at my workspace, I am (I swear) getting something like separation anxiety...Hell, I barely know the woman. My IT guy who has met her says," Hey man. You think you got internet trouble? That's real trouble." Well, she does look like Marilyn Monroe and here I am at my hysterically young age (ha!) alone for a long time and all Sunday moring seemed to me to be sending out hormones and enkaphelins that would fell even a statue of El Toro--or it seemed that way to me, old attic dweller and peruser of funny magazines.

Seems that I had suddenly come alive and wondering all the while where I had been these past few years. Didn't Hemingway write something like "Men Without Women?" They were all violent dudes.

I swear some days I'd terrorize an entire village if I spend another day without female company. "We are troublesome creatures," says a neighbour. "But you can't get along without us."

Well, a looker like that probably has at least two, maybe three men pole-axed like this Polack (almost), and when I took her to the restaurant all the men's eyes were upon her and she said hello to one or two. Ah. Trouble in the making.

I hate problems. I hate trouble. But I get into woe all the time then I have to use all the imagination and all the adrenaline to get out of tight squeezes, and at my age, it's kind of hard on the old ticker and as I look back at the past, the old face took a beating as well.
How many blows have I cleverly stopped with my face. Trying for a karate hold on the guy at about the time he punches you in the on the nose. Ah. Press L for Loser!
And mistaking some poor restaurant cook for my mistress' lover, whamming the poor Greek on the cheek --and realizing, that it was a case of mistaken identity. Double L for loser!

Ah well.Make your move. Think of the years of regret....Never mind. Better to move; you can deal with the regret later.
The I-Ching is full of regret. "Little fox dips his tail into the water. Remorse; noting will further."

Last night my blonde bomber visited a female friend who lives next door to me.
Ah. Press L for Loser!
All signals like this have a positive sexual charge.

I definitely need to get out more.
But to get ambushed at my front door would be kind of nice.

Trouble. I have a natural talent to forsee impossible situations.
But I havent felt so good in a long time. Where have I been. On the moon?

Ah. Lunacy.

Herodotus says "stay with the easy conquests othewise she'll have you baying at the moon with her manipulations"..
You can spot a relationship machine from miles away, but that doesn't mean you're going to stay away.

I'm sure this is all going to pass.
Take up the priesthood.
St. Anthony in the garden.
"Get the hell out of my rosebush, mad monk!"

Same thing every time. You just get enough ink in the papers and enough money together to fly on at least on engine--and wham. Relationship. What does all this have to do with getting that book out?

The priesthood. The priesthood. Pater Noster.


Anonymous said...

there's no light all your candles...

Midnight said...

Love keeps us crazy.
Love keeps us young. said...


Sounds sort of Catholic. But a bit of a possible dark side.
Anyone know the song? said...

Midnigh. Yep.
My widowed sister goes dancing at the age of 78. Crazy man, crazy.
23 Skiddoo. To Charleston, to Charleston. It's the bee's knees!

ea said...

Hellooo, Giovanni! said...



Charles Gramlich said...

Reason is a pitiful thing before beauty. said...


Yes. Beauty.

And how we sometimes burn in hell for it.
Or maybe even possessing it.
There are some twisted people out there.

Midnight said...

One may chose beauty, or comfort.

I assume you understand.

--- Japanese proverb. said...

Ah, to be a Samurai in the bedroom.

I know you have seen the etchings.

Midnight said...

They are red. said...

I especially like the fierce, almost Kabuki- looking kind of guy getting it on with a geisha.

Ah prurience.

Midnight said...

Life's what you make it.

Midnight said...

Choose. said...

The lady or the tiger?

...Not much in the tank with the Tiger.

Midnight said...

Allow her spellbound ,
Dreams to be yours . said...

Sounds like John Donne.

It will probably be donne.

Something I wrote years ago:

"I long for you with all my heart
Despite the stigma, thought.
It matters little what is fact
I'll drink the cup you brought."

Midnight said...

May our Women be aware,
Of our subtle ferocity.

Love is magic, in our dreams
Love is unexpected, creams.

Monique said...

Never too old eh, Ivan. Now keep that zipper closed.

Enjoy the company I say, and don't expect anything. You might get a surprise.

You are missing episodes of MD. I realize that you are on dial up and have problems, but there is another way I have only just discovered.

Google a certain episode, say, Middle Ditch 15, and that will be the only episode shown. This might be easier for you. I don't know, but it's worth trying, don't you agree, don't you think so ( As Sarah might say).

lol xx

Midnight said...

See? Those Kittens, theorize..
They've got us figured out, they're wise.
Slinky, silky, pound her soul,
Let 'er rip, and swallow whole..

h/t to alcohole.

Midnight said...

With the greatest, respect. said...

Ah Monique.

If I'd kept it closed, I wouldn't have lost two houses, a beautiful Gibson guitar that one of the mistresses stole, all my printed stories in an album, including a novel draft and even My new Sears athletic supporter.
Egad. My dog-in-the-manger semi wives.
They wanted it all, and where they couldn't get it, they'd rip it off.
Moral of the story, I guess was "if you don't have it all, we'll take it all, even if we take your gold and jewelry.
Hah. Makes me think of a Hank Williams song.
...I'm told of you play a country song backwards, you get back the wife, the money, the truck and the family dog--if he's still alive.

At the doghouse: "Move over little dog, 'cause big dog's movin' in."

Ah. Out, damn Spot.