Thursday, September 22, 2016

Mere Ramblings. Do not read.

This being my blog I should have declared that I got a job at the start of this year, and updated everyone about it too. Did not.

I also stopped writing long-winded tales about the girls and myself, tales which, summarized, would simply say "Friend Zone." All those tales do is convey fuzzy feelings of some guy (me) having a crush and reading too much into mundane interactions with skirtwearers, which is a pathetic sight coz everybody who knows anything knows I ain't getting any. Another one the other day voluntarily declared herself to be in the sister zone, can you imagine such an outrage.

I have enough work and play on my plate nowadays not to think about these things too much, ever since I basically accepted that my long experience in being alone qualifies me for many more years of solitude.

Then I realized I enjoy and look forward to it now. Freedom, etc.

But the other day one of my female colleagues stopped giving me curious glances and started staring deep into my eyes and seeking me out at every half chance and roaming back and forth past my desk and looking for excuses to make me go to her desk and saying pretty much any old thing to keep us talking. Yea she likes me, her company is tolerable, despite her multitude of feminine quirks, no actual red flags. And I have a rough idea what this pretty petite perky bombshell wants.

A colleague observed our electric dynamic and drew up a mock marriage certificate on a sticky note, what a clown.

So, lunch hour, this lady and I were chatting during a long leisurely walk to exactly nowhere (the walk facilitated the talk). When we ran out of small talk she started to tell me how many "admirers" I have in the workplace. Even as I tried to coax her into listing their names, I could see how bothered by it she is.

Back to the topic at hand - me. I'm rambling here, it's allowed if your blog has not yet hit triple-digit following. Also bragging a bit. Gimme a break, such things don't happen to me everyday.

All that remains to be seen is whether I will remain true to form and ruin this indestructible opportunity by losing it in a thick fog of rationalizations, foremost of which is my ideological zealotry for the single life, which zealotry now faces, ahem, challenges.

Tuesday, September 13, 2016

The Gods of the Copybook Headings - Rudyard Kipling

AS I PASS through my incarnations in every age and race,
I make my proper prostrations to the Gods of the Market Place.
Peering through reverent fingers I watch them flourish and fall,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings, I notice, outlast them all.
We were living in trees when they met us. They showed us each in turn
That Water would certainly wet us, as Fire would certainly burn:
But we found them lacking in Uplift, Vision and Breadth of Mind,
So we left them to teach the Gorillas while we followed the March of Mankind.
We moved as the Spirit listed. They never altered their pace,
Being neither cloud nor wind-borne like the Gods of the Market Place,
But they always caught up with our progress, and presently word would come
That a tribe had been wiped off its icefield, or the lights had gone out in Rome.
With the Hopes that our World is built on they were utterly out of touch,
They denied that the Moon was Stilton ; they denied she was even Dutch;
They denied that Wishes were Horses ; they denied that a Pig had Wings ;
So we worshipped the Gods of the Market Who promised these beautiful things.
When the Cambrian measures were forming, They promised perpetual peace.
They swore, if we gave them our weapons, that the wars of the tribes would cease.
But when we disarmed They sold us and delivered us bound to our foe,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "Stick to the Devil you know."
On the first Feminian Sandstones we were promised the Fuller Life
(Which started by loving our neighbour and ended by loving his wife)
Till our women had no more children and the men lost reason and faith,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "The Wages of Sin is Death."
In the Carboniferous Epoch we were promised abundance for all,
By robbing selected Peter to pay for collective Paul;
But, though we had plenty of money, there was nothing our money could buy,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "If you don't work you die."
Then the Gods of the Market tumbled, and their smooth-tongued wizards withdrew
And the hearts of the meanest were humbled and began to believe it was true
That All is not Gold that Glitters , and Two and Two make Four
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings limped up to explain it once more.
As it will be in the future, it was at the birth of Man
There are only four things certain since Social Progress began.
That the Dog returns to his Vomit and the Sow returns to her Mire,
And the burnt Fool's bandaged finger goes wabbling back to the Fire;
And that after this is accomplished, and the brave new world begins
When all men are paid for existing and no man must pay for his sins,
As surely as Water will wet us, as surely as Fire will burn,
The Gods of the Copybook Headings with terror and slaughter return!

Wednesday, September 7, 2016

Double Standards

There was a headline story some time back, in which a man grew a pair of breasts after sleeping with a married woman (not his own wife). This unnatural development allegedly arose because the woman's husband had arranged with forces of darkness to inflict a pair of breasts on all trespassers.

Now the print article openly displayed the man's black-magic-induced breasts whereas a woman's wholesome natural breasts would never be so brazenly published. It makes one wonder really how twisted the media is. Is shock value that important?

It's kind of instructive however that a pair of breasts on a man is not desirable whereas women prize their packages highly. If sleeping around were proven to grow busts, then more women would do it do it do it, but their problem would be where to find men to sleep around with, for they would certainly avoid sleeping around.

But this is a case involving forces of darkness.

The natural world clearly demonstrates that the social double standards between the genders arise from their anatomical  biological differences.

PS: Leave people's spouses alone.

Wednesday, August 31, 2016

Multi Media

Why are there no pictures on my blog? Because I bleed enough of the content my heart on this blog that a total stranger can paint my portrait accurately!

Anyway, concentration spans being what they are nowadays, I do not blame modern so-called readers for being unwilling to trudge through walls of text while their multiple social media accounts are chock-full of funny memes and videos.

Behold, here be text.

I don't know which is the biggest hindrance to relationships today; pride or fear.

Pride is that guy or girl ( perhaps you) who likes someone else but thinks it beneath their dignity to let them know, or to sustain contact. Si you have two likers not using their cellular gadgets to stay in touch but wishing the other would initiate it. And they both stare longingly at each other's contact hoping by some unknown forces of telekinesis to trigger an incoming call by focussing a diabolical glarr on the phone contact. It never works even though both should combine their simultaneous efforts in this black art. As reality dawns, fervor cools, and all too quickly both become hardened in mutual resentment. Nor is this the end the matter, no. Not being fully conscious of their real motive, they both set out to prove to one another how they don't need one another anyway, and thus their attraction, un-actualized, becomes the chief cause of their estrangement to each other's mutual harm! Twisted but true.

Fear is that guy or girl (perhaps you?) who's all about protecting themselves from heartbreak. Instead of saying "nothing ventured nothing gained," which is correct, they say "Nothing ventured nothing lost." Which also is correct in a glass half empty kind of way. So they wallow in a multitude of shallow associations, quickly wading out the minute they start to get wet. Perhaps one day long ago they went skinny dipping in the lake and inadvertently drank more murky water than they intended, requiring mouth to mouth resuscitation after being fetched some distance beneath the surface, or worse, being found washed ashore barely alive. Since then even sitting on the shore is torture to such and the word "swimming" is thoughtcrime and they steer all conversations well away from the topic.

Which is worse? Fear or pride?

Wednesday, August 17, 2016


This is awkward.

No, I am not addressing that to blog readers as the forerunner to an oft-repeated apology about neglecting the blog and swearing to write more regularly. I think them too intelligent to be repeatedly taken for fools on such recurring and unvarying round trips.

I am neglecting the blog officially, the way I usually do, when unexpected events in my personal life have not violently beaten the living ennui out of me, at least momentarily.

Nowadays listlessness like cling film inures me from the joy of existence, nor does the fire inside register more heat than ashes in a fireplace with the odd surviving ember complacently giving up the ghost.

But here's the awkward part. Just when I'm ready to march absentmindedly through the rest of my life, resigned to pursuing everybody else's dream seeing as my own lie buried all around me in the cemetery that my memory has become, the corner of my eye  detects an unexpected movement, amidst the headstones.

And a hand emerges from the ground, followed closely by its counterpart, after which the grave beneath half-heartedly surrenders its unwilling occupant, for she, apparently prematurely buried, refuses to remain therein.

Her headstone remained blank, nor did I ever dare to frivolously breathe her name while she lived, but she afflicts me enough cardiac damage upon her reincarnation to make me locate the blog again, I'll tell you that much...

Sunday, June 12, 2016

Us or Nothing

We are cursed as blessed;
As enthralled as exasperated;
Tears and laughter erupt together;
For thus it goes with us:

the moment that drew us
The spark that lit us
The past that trails us
The faith that moves us
The lust that heats us
The love that binds us
The barriers that forestall us
The dysfunction that repels us
The pride that parts us

And all our hate, and all our love:
It dooms us or saves us

Thursday, June 9, 2016

Eternal Ingenue

Of timeless appeal from youth
For the little girl inside emerged
And the big serious girl submerged
to be glimpsed only as needed.
You value pain and sweat correctly,
But your face never betrays them.
A great many supplicate your favor.
A strong few withstand your beauty,
Only to be disarmed by your essence,
Rendered utterly helpless by
Your effervescent innocence.
Your frown would trigger wars,
Enchanted massed suitors
Would hazard Herculean voyages
At your slightest tease.
You are the crack in our armor,
We are each only a day in your life.

Thursday, May 19, 2016

Travails in Online Dating

Talk about late adopters. The dictionary entry should include my mugshot as an illustration. After getting bored of the twenty-first century princesses I am surrounded by every day, I decided to go online. After all, a growing demographic has a better online persona than the real them, right? What’s the worst that could happen? I read some reviews and heard all the horror stories and I felt ready for some stalkers for a change. Off I went to Google Play to download a dating app. 

Less than five minutes later I’m swiping photos in all compass directions.

what I expected

They say, about online dating, that if you are searching for love online there must be something wrong with you for failing to find love in your everyday real life circles. Once I overcame the implied slur in that reasoning and got down to swiping, the full impact of this stereotype came to light. Everyone logs on to the site thinking, “Me? I’m perfectly okay, I’m on here because I’m hip, fun, adventurous and open-minded, but the rest of y’all out here are some basic no-life losers who can’t get laid.” An attention-whore’s winning mentality. So they upload their best photos and wait for us to like them and match them and message them, but the mere fact that I am ONLINE DATING on a HOOKUP APP translates: I am a desperate no-life pervert. Therefore in her head she’s already too good for me anyway, match notwithstanding.

the sad reality

With time I have taken up a side hobby between swipes: massive trolling on the site.
 Or perhaps I should just go with the flow and upload pretentious photos?
If you chance upon my handsome mug, swipe right, you ugly hermit.
Till then I’ll keep y’all updated.

Friday, May 13, 2016

Professional Constraints

She walks past
I catch myself staring
Creepy puppy dog stare
I'll be damned if I can help myself
She pretends not to notice
Her waist sways her hips
Looks away
A corridor, a staircase, a desk -
Fortune likes to play games
Tension like dusk descends
Desire is concealed in niceties

But the inferno that rages within
Is an urge to seize her shoulders
Shake her to the brink of reality
And from her lofty cliffs of pride,
Sprayed by her stormy depths of confusion,
Expose her to my icy blast of Hatred,
Which she, rightly identifying as Desire,
wrongly characterizes as

Monday, April 4, 2016

Simply Ugly

"Oh what a tangled web we weave,
When first we practice to deceive!"

A girl I am close to was telling me all her relationship troubles: the typical platonic friend.

The story began innocently enough: he asked her to move in with her. She turned down the offer with a barrage of excuses. Of course to her they sounded like valid reasons but I'm sitting there thinking: if she's not moving in on his initiative then something is wrong somewhere.

Cohabiting is always a bad idea for unmarried couples. I will spare you the reasons why. But if a guy is taking that risk and being rejected for frivolous reasons (which do not involve the preservation of maidenhood , for conjugation is ongoing), then he'd better sit down and mentally locate the exit. Because the next rejection on a more significant invitation will crush his soul.

Soon enough my platonic friend confirms my suspicions that her partner is more invested in the relationship than she is. The agony of her soul is the fear of breaking his heart. She spit-roasts the dilemma over the fire in her heart with relish: "I don't know what to dooooo!" She is pulled apart by indecision and the pain gives her pleasure because it is the last vestige of excitement in her long term relationship. It is the great big drama in her life in which she plays the lead role: fate is in her hands, the spotlight on her.

"He is a good guy!" she says with a sympathetic sneer, "But at some point the love just... ended."

So now all that remains to be seen is whether she has the balls to pull the plug. Oh that the gods would engineer it so that he left her instead, and then she could be the victim and cry! Much preferable.

She tells me the guy has even suggested marriage to his dear beloved. I don't know how she weaved out of that hot seat in that awkward moment when it came up, but somehow, she's still there, still in that relationship, allowing him to believe somehow something will work out.

Yet I wonder, doesn't her own internal inconsistency, that cognitive dissonance arising from acting in love while being out of love, appear manifestly sometimes when they are together? I think I have a nose for these type of things. An incomplete smile, a perfunctory kiss, an obligatory compliment, a stiff lay with fake orgasms. Perhaps I am paranoid, but I believe every man should be able to detect these cracks in the façade. Those periods when nothing specific is "wrong," but everything's riding precariously on a knife edge, when one inch out of step is the difference between an uneasy peace and contrived apologies.

This could go either of two ways: they maintain the facade of a loving relationship and marry into a life of continual deception, or she ends the circus and breaks them up.

Except she doesn't know what to dooooo.