Blogblah!!!

THINGS STRESSED WOMEN SAY AT WORK
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> >>1. Okay, okay! I take it back. Unfuck you.
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> >>2. You say I’m a bitch like it’s a bad thing.
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> >>3. Well this day was a total waste of make-up.
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> >>4. Well, aren’t we a damn ray of sunshine?
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> >>5. Don’t bother me, I’m living happily ever after.
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> >>6. Do I look like a people person?
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> >>7. This isn’t an office. It’s hell with fluorescent lighting.
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> >>8. I started out with nothing and I still have most of it left.
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> >>9. Therapy is expensive. Popping bubble wrap is cheap. You choose.
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> >>10. Why don’t you try practicing random acts of intelligence and
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> >>senseless acts of self-control?
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> >>11. I’m not crazy. I’ve been in a very bad mood for 30 years.
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> >>12. Sarcasm is just one more service I offer.
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> >>13. Do they ever shut up on your planet?
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> >>14. I’m not your type. I’m not inflatable.
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> >>15. Stress is when you wake up screaming and you realize you haven’t
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> >>gone to sleep yet.
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> >>16. Back off!! You’re standing in my aura.
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> >>17. Don’t worry. I forgot your name too.
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> >>18. I work 45 hours a week to be this poor.
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> >>19. Not all men are annoying. Some are dead.
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> >>20. Wait…I’m trying to imagine you with a personality.
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> >>21. Chaos, panic and disorder … my work here is done.
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> >>22. Ambivalent? Well, yes and no.
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> >>23. You look like shit. Is that the style now?
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> >>24. Earth is full. Go home.
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> >>25. Aw, did I step on your poor little itty bitty ego?
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> >>26. I’m not tense, just terribly, terribly alert.
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> >>27. A hard-on doesn’t count as personal growth.
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> >>28. You are depriving some village of an idiot.
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> >>29. If assholes could fly, this place would be an airport.
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Today’s entry is dedicated to the late lamented band, X, their album, Under a Big Black Sun, and the tune I name above. Thank you John Doe and Exene. The Webmaster took me to a concert of theirs at Plaza Court on NW 10th and Walker one time years ago and that band just about brought down the building. That’s another one I owe you, Dennis. … Thanks for the good times.

Will the real Don Juan please stand up?

About four pussys showed up at my house this morning. One is brunette but the others seem to be black and white or gray. The neighborhood slut I call “Tuxedo” due to her black with strategically placed white fur has a brood of monochromatic kittens that have decided my yard is the jungle God left for their hunting grounds. All of them regard me as an intruder. I refuse to feed them so as not to encourage them, but there are so many birds and squirrels in my yard that I’m not sure that’s any deterrent. Once, not long ago, I had a young woman over to the house when these felines were but small balls of fur and they had lined up on my bedroom windowsills. Even though a confirmed dog lover and allergic to cats, the girl went weak at the knees over how cute they were. Lovely memory of a woman I cared about who “got away.” Only the cats remain.

Waking Up With Someone New

I woke up with a woman this morning and it was our first time to sleep together. No. I mean really sleep, not what you are thinking, you dirty minded readers. My rule for “sleeping together” is that I won’t do that unless I have something to say in the morning besides “How do you take your coffee?”. Anyway, we did have coffee together during a lovely morning and we did have something to say to each other and it was VERY nice. “Sleeping together” is what it is and it can be quite lovely, of course, but what I like even better is the more long-term pleasure of having a woman in your life that you can wake up with and talk softly and lovingly with the next morning. There have been two wonderful women in my life in the past 10 years of my sobriety with whom that was true: we woke up in love and had coffee and long talks, often outside. I should have married them, I’ve often thought, but the chance to do that never really happened. One moved away and the other just flat dumped me. I still love them both. More than anything else, I miss their companionship. For both of them, it was true that we could do the stupid things one must do — grocery shop, for example — and have a good time together. Our senses of humor matched. God has blessed me with a few wonderful women and I would especially include my X wife, the mother of my wonderful children. I’m nostalgic this morning for some reason. As much as I care about the woman I woke up with this morning, our relationship is doomed, I think. She forthrightly admits that she’s both emotionally and physically unavailable to everyone, including me. I shan’t fight with her about it. No sense in it. You can’t talk or force someone to be in love with you, no matter how much you might wish it to be so. And, for me, no will always mean no. And, why try to make someone have sex with you if they don’t want to have sex? Would it be any good if they weren’t completely “into” it? I think not. And, the worse would be the guilt and recrimination and remorse the next morning if you succeeded. Who wants to wake up and have coffee with someone who hates themselves and what they’ve just done?

The aftermath

First, I’ve always thought that “aftermath” sounds like doing the subtraction in your checkbook immediately following Algebra class. That’s not what I mean now, though. The aftermath of waking up with a new woman in my bed today is that I stayed up very late on a “school night”, woke up late, spent extra time over coffee and taking her home and by the time I was headed to work, the day was half over and I felt like hammered shit from the short night’s sleep. My last X accused me of being a sex addict, a charge I vehemently denied, but there’s no doubt that “sex” (or near-sex, as in this case) is affecting my work and that’s a symptom of sexual addiction. This X really got into my head as you can see, and I’m still suffering months later from the guilt, shame and conflicting emotions I have left over from being flatly dumped in such a manner. Anyway, there’s no way I’ll be able to concentrate on discovery matters in a real estate case today, no matter how much I need the billing to keep my poor law practice afloat. Might as well blog.

Is there conflict ahead?

Recently, there was a woman in my life who, like the newest one, explicitly told me she is emotionally, romantically and physically unavailable to me. I spent weeks going into months ignoring and denying that reality. I loved her and wanted her and wished for it so much I was sure that I could change her mind. I went from smitten to hopeless to pathetic. Yes, pathetic. When you go on and on being not just hopeless but knowing it’s hopeless, it becomes pathetic. Finally, I realized what I was doing. Since I couldn’t “make” her feel the way I wanted her to feel about me, there was nothing left but to stop and change the dynamic. I had no other choice. Now, I’m unavailable to her, romantically, physically and emotionally. I stopped waking up wishing for her and I stopped making myself miserable over not getting what I would never have. Anyway, along the way, I asked for her to returns some items I’d loaned her over the time of our “relationship”, a word that must be in quotation marks because it isn’t a relationship if only one person feels “that way”. She picked THIS morning to return my stuff. Now, I’m wondering about the aftermath. Will I be faced by a woman who was not only unavailable, but is now pissed? You would think that if she didn’t want a relationship with me, it wouldn’t bother her to find out I was with another woman. However, it’s my experience that such logic simply doesn’t always work. At least not where women and the heart are concerned. We shall see.

Video clip

My friend the videographer, John H., has produced a short (10 second?) video of me having a smoke in front of a Braum’s sign at twilight. I’m going to try and place it on this page as soon as I can. DENNIS!!!!! Heads up!!!!!!

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU WEBMASTER!!!!

Dennis, you ARE the BEST!!!

One little snarky comment on my blog and he responded immediately. RebL and SuzArt are now enabled, as are you all. If you want to comment, look under “Meta” and hit “Register” and you can make all the comments you want, or so I’m told. I’m going to send out this URL so that my whole address book can look at Blogblah.

Sunday afternoon

George O and John H came by and kidnapped me for another late afternoon of filming for their movie. We got shots of me driving through my neighborhood, around Lake Hefner and soulfully smoking at the dam. Later, we got drinks at Braum’s and hit a lick there as well. Those guys are a lot of fun to hang with, but the part they have me portraying, a sort of Don Juan of Oklahoma City, has me sketchy since that’s not really who I am. By putting the focus on my lovelife and then exaggerating it, they leave out things like blogging, painting, writing, practicing law and being devoted to a group of really wonderful friends. That’s cinema, I suppose, and just shots of me struggling with a keyboard aren’t exactly the kind of action one wants in a film. On the other hand, I’ve already got enough trouble with my daughter and others about my dating attitudes and my “rep” as a ladies’ man is already an obstacle to me meeting and having a relationship with women of appropriate age and stage of life. Ah, well, no doubt the universe unfolds as it should.

The Gary

One of my friends, The Gary, is just flat the goodest guy to know and care about ever. I’m not going to wax eloquent, but one thing he does is host a bunch of us at his pool, as he did yesterday. Maybe 10 or so of us gathered there for a little conversation, a little dish of the 12 X 12 and its attendees, and a roundup of current doings by each of us, checking in with friends. The Gary is the consummate host not only to those of us he regards as close friends, but also to our four-legged companions, of which three guarded us from all evil squirrels and birds as well as each other. The smallest of the dogs, Hannah, was, of course, the most fierce. It’s the best deal in town — access to a private pool without having to skim it and check the chlorine and iced tea brought poolside to boot.

I can’t seem to figure out how to let RebL and SuzArt log on and comment, but I’m sure working on it, even if RebL is upset about something I’ve written and wants everyone to know she’s much more funny than I’ve portrayed her. And, of course, she’s right as rain. SuzArt is also funny and no doubt has things to say that would be “helpful” in a nuclear war kind of way. Ladies, my abject apologies. I am really doing my best to get it fixed ASAP. Webmater Dennis! Front and Center! No more lame excuses. We want action YESTERDAY!!!

The Social Whirl

Went to the 12 X 12 show last night in Bricktown. Glittering, as always. I took tickets at the door for my volunteer duties and so I could see all the bods in gladrags go by and meet and greet The Gang of 500 that attends such events.

First up was Dr. K_____ W_____ (name withheld to protect the innocent), stunning in her red full length dress and shawl. I saw her early on in the evening and even though she’s an X and I’m still hurt and mad at her, for some reason I couldn’t stand to see her standing alone in front of the UCO jazz band and took her in my arms and danced with her for a moment. K, I still love you and miss you and I still pray for the willingness to get over it.

Brooks Tower, master of mosaic, and his S.O., the gorgeous, brilliant and very tall Deb 2000, were there celebrating the fact that they had just been notified that they had won a Ford Focus. We ARE the whirled, Brooks. Congratulations.

Have I mentioned that I just adore Julia Kirk of OVAC, who corralled me into the gig?

Diane Glenn was there, but I’m irked at her for failing to fawn over and kiss me even though she knows I think she’s terrific.

George Oswalt was there with his bride, Debbie Allen. He had a lovely submission called “Costa Rica”, commemorating their recent honeymoon in the tropics.

John Brandenberg and his S.O. appeared, making the second night in a row I’d seen him as a result of also running into him at JRB Art on the Paseo where a full room of his work is hanging this month.

Partied briefly with SuzArt and her escort, the always dapper The Gary. They arrived late, but with effect.

Lawyers were everywhere, including Bill Bleakley and Doug Parr and John Mc and Garvin Issacs, who had submitted a nicely realized portrait as his 12X12.

I stood at the doorway for a time with David LeCrone II, who promises me he will send some of his visual art work to me by email. Nice to meet you, David. Get with it!!

My faux adopted daughter, Adrienne Nobles, also from UCO was flitting about being competent and didn’t believe me when I told her I thought she was the best looking woman in the room, but it’s a matter of taste and I can decide for myself who I think is beautiful. Just like a faux adopted daughter to be a willful child. Her constant companion from work, Lori, was also there, but disappeared from my view as quickly as she showed up.

Margaret Walsh and Bill Struby — HI guys! Friday night dinner and Sat. night art show? People will talk — were there and I really liked Bill’s red dog submission because it was funny and bright.

Mara and Clint were there and what a fine, dark dark dark couple they make.

Michael Hoffner, dressed in his de rigeur black, towered over his companions, neck craning to focus his trendy glasses all around, presumably to ward off the dangers of appearing in public.

In knots all over the room were the models, photogs, hairdressers and makeup artists from Elastic Cafe, but the redoubtable Juliet Hutton, head of the agency, was no where to be found. I finally tracked her down interviewing another new male model (Hi, Nathan, glad to meet ya) at a dead dead dead Flip’s. It was wonderful to spend my afterparty with Juliet but she does keep late hours and tortures me with her unavailability.

I don’t want the above to indicate that Flip’s is “over”. It was dead because last night was also the opening of Nova, the new restaurant on Western that’s gone in between VZDs and Sushi Neko. The word I get is that Nova is part of the Deep Fork people and that the owners want to use the place as a springboard for a TV show. ???? The red velvet rope was brought out for the opening and that’s a new twist for Western eateries.

I almost forgot that I saw Lexi and Nick last night and how nice it was to catch up with old friends from my Heritage Hall days. Lexi is more beautiful than ever and Nick is healing up a hurt foot suffered in a rooftop knife fight. It’s his story and he’s sticking to it, whether it makes sense to you or not. I hope someday that Lexi gets brave enough to let people see her artwork. It’s exciting and I think she’s one of the most talented young painters in Oklahoma City, but she’s shy and hates to let go of her “babies”.

RANT

Today, I shall have words with my friends who own Galileo’s and Isis. The bartender at Isis last night charged me nearly $20 for a Kier Royal made with one of those excremental little cans of Sophia champagne. He tried to put the concoction in a martini shaker and martini glass!!!! I paid the tab because there’s no sense arguing with a bartender overwhelmed with last call tabs and I know his feet had to hurt and blah blah blogblah. Nevertheless, Sandy will get an earful from me later today.

Michi Susan at JRB

Michi Susan’s work at JRB opened Friday. I just absolutely adore her work. For that matter, I adore the artist. Anyway, she has some very brightly colored large works showing that use a textured technique with oil that really works for me in addition to her heavily Asian influenced “Poem” series that I would gobble up by the wallfull had I the pocketbook to match my tastes and avariciousness. Someone needs to say how good a job Joy R B is doing with that gallery and how much it contributes to the Paseo. Kudos.

Erika West

I spent Friday night in the company of a woman whose blog/net personna is Erika West. Do you know the phrase “s/he had me at hello”? I picked her up about 7 p.m. and she came down the stairs in a black and white outfit that floored me. Strappy little Joan Crawford “fuck me” pumps. Her hair was flowing down across her shoulders darkly and her light eyes shown out electricly. YUM!!!! We did the JRB show quickly (we were behind the curve set by the rest of the crowd) and “Erika” had really insightful, interesting things to say about the art that set me a-quiver because there’s so little of that around. We went to dinner at Flip’s with a few others and shared the always good lobster ravioli. I knew I wasn’t the only one stunned by how great she looked when I noticed all the dawgs at the table yapping everytime she opened her mouth. I hope to see more of her, but her schedule is killer — she teaches 10 (ten!) adjunct classes at several local colleges and works 12 hour days at times. Maybe it’s my Age of Aquarians.

lazy gene kicks in

I’ll write more later of a more public and political vein, but I’ve just been overcome by my lazy gene and have gone lax.

Mid-day Musings

OK, the next religious right person who tells me that these hurricanes are about God punishing New Orleans for being decadent is going to be bitch slapped summarily. Of course, since they also don’t believe the science of global warming, I guess they have to give God the blame. Ignoring facts, like evolution, seems to be the hallmark of a significant part of our population here in Oklahoma City.

More about dating

Part of the trouble about dating has to do with “The Rules”. What ARE the rules for dating when one is over 40? It seems like everyone I date has a different set of “rules” and that’s OK, we should all set our own boundaries. The trouble is that I don’t know the rules until I break one. I think it should be a “rule” that everyone has to type out a sheet of their rules and the precedents and reasoning and interpretations and hand them out before the first date. Maybe some sort of mandatory checklist form: “Do you kiss on (pick one) first date? second date? third date? never? always?” That sort of thing. Other rules might be: “Listen politely while I savage my ex husband but never comment because I still love the low life bastard.” Or, maybe, “I know that my teenaged child at home is impossible, but never ever complain or I will kick your ass out so fast your head will swim.” Lately, to generalize horribly, the rule I tend to run into is this one: “You can never know the rules; I never have to follow the rules; your failure to love this idea is fatal to our relationship.” I hate dating, so just shoot me.

This one is gender neutral and drives me out of my mind: “I don’t know what I want, but I don’t like this.”

I have a date tonight with a woman I’ve never taken out before and I’m anxious and fearful, to tell the truth. Some of my angst is undoubtedly reflected here.