AZOTUSLAND

Currently at 90,000 words, 215 typewritten pages, and almost done.

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Location: San Francisco, California, United States

Artist, writer, visionary and head of Azotus Consulting and Marintowns.com

Thursday, November 03, 2005

AZOTUSLAND chapter thirteen

At 3 p.m sharp two men went to literary work every day. The third writer, Maugham, worked in the mornings or late at night. But Jim sat down at 3 everyday and wrote for an hour up on a private deck off the Bunkhouse. It was not even 7 by 7 feet, but it had a roof and was secluded and he could hear the stereo from inside the Bunkhouse.

Twoi floor down on the pation Jeremy had started a long memoir, which was ironic. He had decided to catalog his failed relationships with women and coded them like new software version. Thus he had girlfriend 3.0, 4.0, 4.5, 4.75, etc... all the way up to the current , well latest version 13.5.

He was only 23 and kissed his first girlfriend at 15 and he was at 13.5 with an eye toward the Sexy MILF he had met earlier that day.

As Jeremy wrote openly about girlfriend 13.5, Jim happened to me writing in similar fashion, yet more broadsweeping.

Jim wrote:
I have always lost out to other guys...eventually.

I mean I have never had a problem meeting and hooking up with beautiful intelligent women. In fact, not so long ago my step-uncle approached me at a wedding party and laughingly said "How do you do it? You always show up with the most amazing women. It boggles my mind."
Of course he failed to note that they are usually different every year or so.
So you have to factor that in as part of the paradigm.

I can get them, but cannot keep them.

I hit a new low about this time last year when I lost out not to another guy, but to Spongebob Squarepants.

I have to seriously find a new paradigm.

I lost several women because I drank too much. That's a fact. I lost another, well because there never was any real connection. I lost a few to other men who were more, oh...lets just say, economically viable than I was. There were a few women who were just plain mean and no man could withstand their wrath.

Then there is bad timing. For some odd reason often women show up in twos. I'm serious.

I always pick the wrong one.

(Of course, given our thesis, it really would not matter eventually). Had I chosen D over K eventually D would have found an escape hatch. Had I chosen T or L she would have put up with me for the same decade then jumped ship.

It's kinda of a nautical thing.

The common denominator is obvious: It's all their fault for lack of vision.

(Just kidding.)

No, the common denominator is always me.

_____________________


But it's a curious thing to be beat out by a spongy yellow cartoon character. I admit, he is a lot more jolly than me, makes more money, is always upbeat (hence revealing my more broodish side and depressed Swedish side), and his friends are pretty entertaining.

Damn. I wish I had a goofy pink starfish friend about now. Instead, I get Manfred.

______________________

Some of it must just be age.

I'm 47 and, well, while still "cute" I lack that godlike character that I had 15 to 20 years ago that, of course, I was unaware of and never used...then.

Life can be so cruel, and timing is highly under-rated.

So now I have to rely on humor, intelligence and astonishing sexual technique. All of which I have to some degree, and you would think that would be enough.

Naw.

Because there are other things.

Yeah...I hack, and spit at inappropriate times...and I try and start long theological conversations in the middle of the night. I also snore like a bear and use to be an affection whore and plagued by personal demons.

Now with the Cafe I am not starved for attention, but still plagued to some degree.

More than one girldfriend has asked "why do so many of your books have 'death' in the title." I always have the same answer "Because it's an important issue" I whine back in a New York accent that say "Name that movie!"

Usually they just rolled their eyes (it use to be cute...the "name that movie bit"), but Samantha was always a good sport and wouild say Love and Death even though she knew full well it was Annie Hall.

I have other problems. I listen to the same 3 CDs all day long and I often drink too much and then whine about it.

Worse, I used to be employed only in a theorhetical sense, making 10k one month then nothing for the next three. Things are better now, but then I have not had a girlfriend in a year and I refuse to date anyone not generally in my age range because I already have a childcare program downstairs.

I'm obviously bi-polar to some degree. I hold up well in the mornings, but need afternoons off and often times late evenings to brood. Thank God I have the silos.

All of which is why I have always lost these (mostly) good and fine women to Bill and Mike, Jim, Harold, Ron, Sven, Rudy and now, finally, er, Spongebob.

_______________________

Okay, okay, my approach was not smooth.

On the weekends, she liked to get up and watch Spongebob in the morning while having her coffee.

I think that's reasonable.

But I had, in my own defense, warned her the night before (after she woke up most of the who was left in the building with delighted moanings and cries of utter satisfaction) that come daylight I might want to have my own turn.

So I was dismayed when my advances were shunned in favor of a cup of Columbian Roast and a new episode of Spongebob.

What kind of loser loses out to Java (which can be, after all, still sipped in bed) and a cartoon character (especially since there is a fresh VHS tape in the machine)?

What a loser.

__________________


Now admittedly, it was a new episode.

Second, we all know men and women are hard-wired differentely for sex.

Men are often like Samurai. Once the blade (or the idea of the blade) has been unsheathed, it must, er...well you get the point. Days later, the guy is still walking around muttering..."omigod...something has to be done...". Sometimes he just takes matters into his own hands. Other times this is not enough. Especially if he is in love and his woman is very beautiful.

Lucky me. True on both counts.

______________________

So I lost that day to a new sponge. That use to have a different meaning in which you actually "won".

But it is really not about sex. It's about connection, not contraception or anything otherwise.

I can prove this even though I am a passionate male built to pursue.

Because I really loved this woman.

I know every man is not this way, but when I wake up and look over at my woman I note how her dark hair slides over her soft shoulders. I note how she smells and the the wonderful curves of her body feel good and real.

I relish these things...right then.

She just wanted to sleep. She even snored while I thought these things.

When she would wake up she did not look over at me and fawn over me in similar fashion.

She might have, once a week, said "ahhh..he's kinda cute". But that would be that, then roll over and go back to sleep.

No it was me who woke up at 6:32 a.m. with full bonophone ("Hey..how you doin?") on and next to a beauty that I had every ability to fully appreciate.

I was, and am, simply tortured.

________________________

It's been no different in the past. Is it just me? Are other men like this?

Yes and no.

Some are...there are a bunch of us out there...really good and hinest men who can commit, and you women largely ignore us because you are use to the other men who objectify, use and then reject you.

Word.

I know these men, the good ones...a lot of them. They are beautiful and fine.

But no, you choose the Neanderthals...the Users , the Shallowmen, the Players. Again and again.

Why?

Because it is what you know and are use to from when you were younger. All young men loaded with testosterone are utterly warped and non-relational, unless they are gay (I'm kidding). But later, in their 30s they have to choose what they will be and mature. Some become hardened by life and you are, indeed, just a sick target for their torpedos. But other men grow deeper spiritual and emotional roots. They grow into their better selves and have learned from past mistakes, perhaps even a bad marriage from youth.

But you do not recognize those guys. You know who does?

You guessed it, those jaded, angry and controlling women who are the opposite numbers of the Users, Dickheads and Players.

They feast on these men's souls like an empty man uses your best friend just for sex.
I know this paradigm because I was drawn to angry passionate women. Big mistake because I am one of the good guys.

Well I stopped choosing them a few years back. I started to choose good women who were kind, honest, compassionate and enjoyed communicating.

Of course, I still lose them to someone else, but always eventually to a good man (I love my Ex's new boyfriend. He lectures here occasionally) or, if not, to Spongebob.


With that Jim realized it was once again time for the night shift. He folded up his leather diary and walked inside for a quick shower to refresh himself.

1 Comments:

Blogger Chickadeeva said...

I've been having conversations with my unmarried girlfriends about why the good men are a dime a dozen and the liars, players and assholes seem to be the ones who get the attention. Women are attracted to jerks then mourn not having a 'good man.' Painful. Thanks for letting him be so honest.

November 03, 2005 6:07 PM  

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