Monday At The Salt Mine

Sorry I have not posted much of late, new responsibilities at work have vacuumed up some free time, new home projects the rest.

The countdown to the wedding goes apace, invitations were addressed last night. We are a go, Houston, t minus 69 days and counting. The big question in my mind is, "what's next?" Both of us have put some career and life decisions on hold, actions that were on the list to be addressed when we met a year ago. It is pretty clear that kids are in the future, this will be my third family, and that is fine with me. Deeper questions are around job and where the heck we want to live.

Before I met Fiancee, I was actively engaged in finding a big chunk of property in the middle of nowhere, I was going to build my vacation home and live in a studio in the bay, ultimately I was going to retreat to the wilderness (or a good approximation thereof). She was heading to suburbia in Marin. Well, now we need to decide what works for us as a couple. No big worries, just time to start thinking now that the wedding is under control.

I love this woman. She is such a treat after years, no, decades of high maintenance, high anxiety, impossible women who seemed to want desperately in the moment but never knew what it was they really wanted. We communicate, we crack each other up, we have the hots for each other and respect each other. We make space to be together and space to be our separate selves.

Yay!

What more can you ask for?

Ok, off to work, by midweek I will have some good stuff.

AJ, if you are reading this, GOOD LUCK!

Twilight Zone

Submitted for your approval.

AJ liked the Saga of the Sea, has encouraged me to do more of that, six years makes for a lot of stories. Once again, very early in the AM, guys still rule at 5:00 am. I am getting up early a lot these days, spend an hour talking to the guys in India, do morning e-mails and reports and get a start on the work day.

After this it is off to workouts, first with swords and then at the gym. Rapiers are light, but holding three to four feet of steel in the proper position for the duration of a bout is very tiring on a specific set of muscles in your shoulder. You can be as in shape as you like, but unless you build up the right muscles, you very quickly fall apart right at the top back of your right shoulder. Rapier fighting is all about being quick at the right time and patient the rest of the time. It doesn't' t work if your arms are turning to jelly.

Ok, so visual image time. I am about 5' 10", broad shouldered, long torso with short legs (I am taller than Fiancee, but my legs are actually shorter than hers). Like a lot of guys my age, I tend to belly fat and fight it like hell, with varying degrees of success. By 40, the hair on the side of my head turned grey and I lost a lot of it up on the top. The year after the Ex bailed I picked up weight. Pictures from that time show a balding somewhat pudgy guy, not soft, more like an overweight mechanic.

Some guys enter their 40's looking like Mel Gibson. They are what the gals call HAWT. Not me, at least not visually. When I was single in my 30's I turned heads. Honestly, not so in my 40's, not like I used to. Gals like flat stomachs, muscles, lots of hair, Lamborghinis ( am I spelling that right?). My guess is that my Shipmate AJ gets heads rotating. But I have seen those pictures of me, it was not pretty.

As recounted earlier, one fine New Years day I got sick of it and started to beat myself back into shape. The last act of that process was instigated by the Fiancee. She likes bald guys, and one day early on asked me to shave my head. I said what the fuck, my barber had been pushing me that way for a while.

So I did, and today sport the Vin Diesel look (not quite that good, Vinny, but you get the picture). So gym time, bald head and an upgraded wardrobe are now part of the picture. It works. Fiancee loves it, random women are once again gawking. Down side, I look like the guy most likely to pop a cap in your head, which is not me at all, but does get me some strange looks from the Redwood City Police, especially driving around with my son in his rebuilt 88 Camero.

Ok, so the point. The Ex has commented on several occasions that she liked my hair the way it was. It isn't just what she says, but the body language, the tone, as if she still had some say over what I look like, as if we were still married. I normally ignore these comments, or tell her in a friendly way that I like the look, then move on.

Yesterday, I dropped the daughter off at her place. So there we are, Daughter, Ex and Ex's new live in boyfriend (who is a nice enough guy, eccentric, but a surgeon and seemingly responsible and harmless, though clueless as to what he is in for with her). Pleasantries and Daughter logistical details are exchanged. Then, my Ex comes over and rubs the top of my head.

Now everyone does that. You do the bald thing, you get rubbed. Ces't la vie.

Me: " It works, you get to my age, you either have all your hair or you shave it off."

Her: " You have hair!" Turns to boyfriend, who looks a bit uncomfortable " He could get that hair replacement surgery. What does it cost?".

Boyfriend "Mumble Mumble...."

Me: " Well, I like it, it works. The ladies seem to like it."

Her: (With daughter right there, big shit eating grin) "That is because you look like a big penis!"

Now she is laughing, thinking that she has just cracked a great joke. The boyfriend is speechless.

I am thinking "As opposed to looking like a 47 year old cum slut wanna be?"

All I do is smile. Daughter goes over and starts whacking her mom on the ass, spanking her for being bad.

The moment ends, I move to the door. Say good bye, hug and kiss the Daughter.

I take teasing well, and I know that in her heart, she is just teasing. What is disturbing is that she is clueless about the context. Daughter does not need to hear this. Boyfriend is already dealing with a complex situation..if he loves her he cannot miss that I am the guy that was sleeping with her for a decade..no one wants that in their face, no matter what the situation. Me, well, sexual banter of any type is the last thing I want with the woman who told me she "did not want to be around me."

I suppose it is one of those things in life. I cannot control it, cannot change it and must, for the sake of my daughter, endure it and remain on the best possible terms with ex. It is a lesson in personal growth.

But, as the old lady says.

Oy Vey.

From Lepanto to the Persian Gulf

Don John's hunting, and his hounds have bayed--
Booms away past Italy the rumor of his raid.
Gun upon gun, ha! ha!
Gun upon gun, hurrah!
Don John of Austria Has loosed the cannonade.

Most of us rarely think about the Battle of Lepanto, fought between the Holy league and The Ottoman Empire that October day in 1571. After 4500 years it was the last major sea fight between fleets of oar powered galleys, the largest battle since Actium in 30 B.C. In a single day, the westward expansion of the Ottomans in the Mediterranean was stopped by an alliance of Spaniards and Italians, led by the 24 year old Austrian bastard son of the King of Spain, Don John. Sixteenth century warfare is a fascinating study, a transition period where combat systems that had existed for millennia intersected with those of the modern world. Lepanto was no exception, oar powered ships, iron rams, cannon, sword and axe armed knights standing next to arberesque and crossbow wielding commoners arrayed against Moslems with scimitars and compound bows.

I would bet that all of you at some point read about it in High School world history class, probably in one of those shaded asides in the text that gave you the hightlights and impressed the fact that is was a decisive battle that shaped the fortunes of rising western Europe.

Of course, what we miss are the little things, the connections, the details. For example, one of the solders on the Spanish side, a man named Miguel de Cervantes, received a serious wound to his hand, ending his military career. This life changing event sent him on a new path that would lead to the writing of Don Quixote, one of the classics of western literature, and eventually to "The Man of LaMancha", a Broadway play.

Anyone my age can remember that a lady's man used to be called a "Don Juan". Tells you something about our famous Admiral, which by the way, is a Turkish word.

A lot happens in a life, the strangest things happen to us, and we are often remembered for the strangest things. Remember William Bligh? Lost a ship named the "Bounty" to a guy named Fletcher Christian and a couple of love sick mutineers. We all know him. But do you know that years after the now infamous Bounty incident, Rear Admiral William Bligh was personally commended by Admiral Lord Nelson at the Battle of Copenhagen for his superior handling of his detachment of ships of the line? Bligh was a great Captain and one of the premier seamen of all times.

He was just bad at peace. His final act was as Governor General of Australia, where he was deposed in another mutiny, this time by His Majesty's Australian Subjects.

For all of that, he is still remembered as the clueless and repressed nincompoop that made Mel Gibson give up his girlfriend.

It must be clear from my recounting of obscure Naval History facts why I was fated at a young age to take up the life of Naval Officer. From the time I was six it was all I wanted to be. Applied to the Academy, but alas not jock enough for them. Still, I think someone back at the Pentagon appreciated all my effort, because the NROTC scholarship acceptance showed up not a week after the Academy told me to pound sand. Back then, NROTC grads were commissioned USN, so it all worked out.

When I got there, things were different. I quickly figured out that the Navy, while in many ways a great life, was not for me. I have a very low tolerance for official nuttiness and officious pricks, and some how the service seemed to breed them.

Hence, my story.

It was a warm night in the Persian Gulf, windy and clear, the stars crowded the sky. The gulf is like no other body of water, more ships and small boats per square mile than anyplace else I have ever been. Commercial Jets run conga lines up and down its length, helicopters swarm like gnats, servicing the oil derricks that flame like so many hundreds of tiki torches on the horizon. At night, there are lights every where, impossible to track, beautiful to behold. Once, the water was so calm that it was like a reflective mirror, and the night sky was reflected in the water, and it was as if we were sailing the star filled sky.

Like I said, I have seen things.

But this night, it was a very busy night, close in shore, stationed off Qatar, keeping an eye on the Iranians and Iraqis. They were at war back then, and our job was to let them know that the US Navy could sail anywhere, and keep from getting shot at by accident. My friend Mark was on the bridge, Officer of the Deck (OOD), nominaly in charge of the ship while the Captain was asleep. I was CIC watch officer, running the combat information center, keeping an eye on the radars and sensors that managed the tactical picture. In a warship of that era, the Bridge was the station for navigation and ship handling, CIC is where you fought the ship, or in this case, monitored the tactical situation. Technically, the OOD was senior and it was CIC's job to keep him informed of the entire tatical picture.

"Whoop Whoop" goes the sound powered phone. "CIC, watch officer" I respond.

"CIC watch officer, Officer of the Deck. When were you going to tell me?"

Mark was not a bad guy, but over the past few months all of us junior officers were observing his decent into official assholedom. He was becoming like the department heads, playing a constant game of "gotcha". We had been standing watch together for a week and he had been screwing with me pretty consistently. Hitting me with chickenshit and generally being arrogant, obnoxious and annoying.

"Tell you what, Mark?"

"Watch Officer, Officer of the Deck, when were you going to tell me about that air contact?"

Oh brother. So he wants to be formal, what the fuck.

"Watch officer, aye. What air contact?"

"Watch Officer, that contact at 065 degrees."

"Aye, let me check."

Mark is laying it on thick. The guy is technically junior to me and his tone could not have been more condescending. I was a nuclear engineer, spent most of my first tour in the engineroom, this was the end of it and I was getting a chance to come topside. He was not a nuke and loved to dick with us engineers.

So I get on the Oscar ( the big radar repeater), run the cursor to the bearing and follow it out from the ship to, lets say, 400 miles. Nothing. Checked off bearing.

Nothing.

"Officer of the Deck, Watch officer. " Hey, two can play at this game.

"Officer of the Deck, Aye."

"Officer of the Deck, Combat holds no contacts at that bearing."

"Well I can see it right in front of me. Perhaps you need someone to teach you guys how to use a radar."

Fuck head.

"Officer of the Deck, Watch officer coming to the bridge."

I turn to the watch supervisor. " Chief I am going to the bridge."

So I walk up to the bridge. It takes a minute for my eyes to adjust to the dark. It is as I described before, stars everywhere, only some moving in strange ways. I walk over to Mark.

"Ok Mark, lets see this contact."

We walk out on the bridge. The enlisted guys follow, sensing that at least one officer is going to get it tonight. They were guessing me.

"See watch officer, that contact right there."

I look, he is serious. I ask "are you sure?"

More serious " yes, right there" as he points.

"That's Jupiter, Mark."

It is never silent on a ship, always the sound of machinery and the ever present wind, either natural or from moving a 11,000 ton monster through the air.

But Mark was silent. Not a peep, And all I could hear was the suppressed snickering of the bridge watch.

"If you have nothing further, Officer of the Deck, I will resume my watch."

Smiling.

"Unless of course, A lesson in astronomy is desired."

Not a word.

The rest of the watch was very quiet.

I love the sea, I loved the Navy in my own way. But it was clear I was not meant for this.

Rant Review

AJ, I promised you a Saga of the Sea, and I have a pretty good one in the works, a CLASSIC example of the officer corps at its finest, (tongue buried in cheek till it hurts) that is both amusing and without a sad ending. I will get it published.

However, my rant of two days ago, the one titled Rain King, created a bit of controversy and a few well placed questions.

For example, Kayten for a moment thought I was targeting her..which I was not, but I can see how she felt that way. Then she pointed out a very good thought, was it a call "...to live large or embrace mediocracy", then went on to integrate my post with the experiences of a reader and her internet friend, pilot. Theresa asked the very pointed and excellent questions, "..Now what?"

I am going to have to start reading Theresa more.

Both have challenged me, directly and indirectly, to come out of vent mode and explain, and have done it in a thoughtful way that requires a thoughtful answer, and further clarification.

I was a mess for many years. Not a bad guy at all really, most meeting me would say that I was smart, ambitious, good hearted, educated, responsible and respected. Women found me attractive, employers found me desirable and my kids thought I was a great dad.

Much of that was true, and I was still a mess. How best to describe it? Forgive the cliche, but I spent my entire life running from the voices, the committee in my head that told me I was really a loser and a phony and a fraud. It is the kind of gift that only an alcoholic father and a fiercely co-dependent mother can give. My exes were messes too, the last one still is, my first has turned to evangelical religion, which in my experience is a very effective cure for some (though it has a host of other issues.)

So let me state here and now, most of the stuff I was ranting about you can find in the pages of my unwritten autobiography. It is partly why I am normally very tolerant of others and their decisions..part spiritual belief that it is not my job to manage or judge others, part temperament, part the clear memory of my own sins and failings.

The end game of a life of running and ten years in a marriage with a crazy alcoholic/addict/perfectionist/screwup was a complete emotional, physical and spiritual collapse. That guy died in December of 2001 as surely as if someone had, how did Umma Thurman say it? Popped a cap in his head. At one point, I wished some one would have.

One good thing about that kind of death though, if you make it back, you lose your fears. What is left to fear? In my mind the worst that could happen, has happened. Now there are worse things, for sure. But for me, I am like those people who die and come back, having seen the other side...it is hard to explain, but there is nothing left to run from, it happened.

I wandered, figuratively, for years after, slowly healing and rebuilding, becoming myself. One person along the way I have only written about tangentially, but she deserves a better treatment. A. is a friend, a lover, a teacher..she is a Reverend of the church and a recovering addict that struggles with a host of psychological and physiological issues. Her bravery and dedication to the truth, given her own challenges is extraordinary. She helped me to see the importance of living openly, generously, honestly, to know my own truth and to follow it. She reminded me of the importance of taking stands, of the power of honorable living. The critical importance of living with intention.

I feel sometimes like the guy who sits on the hilltop while everyone is wandering below in a valley of fog. Does that make me better? No, any grace I have is a hard won gift that only lasts for this day, and will quickly dissolve if I ever step off that razor's edge.

So my rant. I don't care if people choose the life dramatic or pedantic, but I want them to choose, and choose from a place of integrity and compassion. I want people to stop lying and hurting simply to get what they want dishonestly. Example, there is nothing wrong with going to your spouse and saying "I need to leave you, I know that I have other needs and you cannot or will not meet them and I choose another life. Let us find a way to end this as best as we can."

I have no time for "you fuck me so good honey, you know my wife never gives me what I want the way you do. She doesn't understand me." That is just an addict getting his fix. Dress it up anyway you want, a turd by any other name stinks just as badly.

I do not understand wives who put their husbands on the "once a month" program, an action both selfish and cruel and conveniently clueless. It is childish and cowardly behavior, a mockery of the simple vow "to have and to hold.."

Why get married if all you can do is lie and torture? Who told you you could avoid responsibility for your spouse?

There was a comment by one reader in another blog that I loved.. as a result of reading that other post he went home and told his wife that he needed their sex life to change or he would have to make changes. It sounds like he did it right, his report is that they are both now working on their emotional and physical issues. I am proud of those two.

I have lost all patience for people who believe that the world was created for them, and feel empowered to treat others as rudely and as callously as they so deem. It is both a measure of their own sickness as well as a source of unnecessary pain for the people around them. They are wounded children to be sure, but children masquerading as adults. Children can be vicious, and are mostly unconscious, it is why we place restrictions on them and require supervision.

I know the source, I was wounded, you all are wounded. It wasn't your/ their fault.

You are not responsible for the trauma that your parents and others inflicted on you in your past.

But you are responsible to yourself and to the people in your life, to find healing and health. You are responsible for trying your best to become an adult.

That is the rant in a nutshell. I do not care how you came to where you are in life, and I do not judge your choices or circumstance. But I expect you to take charge of your own healing, and for your own sake and the sake of all of those in your own life...

To heal

As much as you humanly can.

I expect you to try to live your own truth, and to cut others the slack you expect them to cut you, to try to live as much as you can to the golden rule.

I expect you, when given the choice of bravery or cowardice, to choose bravery.

You get the picture.

Rain King

Warning, this is a rant today. Every once and a while it happens. I am pissed. Leave now, it may be best.

Tell me that is not a great song. I only half get what the hell he is talking about, but boy can those guys rock.. and they are Oakland boys, so it is also a hometown thing.

Well, someone is bound to comment on my lack of musical taste...nothing is ever as hard fought as the debates between the musicatari on the merits or demerits of popular bands. For those that find my appreciation of "Counting Crows" a window into my unworthiness as a human..

Fuck off.

Today is rant day. I have been radio silent since Valentine's Day mainly because I have been just too damn busy. Good stuff mind you, work is going well, Monday was heaven, tuesday was Dancing Lessons, always a fun time for Fiancee and Me. Last night was fencing, parry and thrust and good scotch afterwords. No time to blog in the midst of that.

But of course I have had time to read. Read my favorite blogs, then followed there links to other blogs and so on. In parallel, just finished the "Alexiad" by Anna Commneni, the chronicle of the Autocrator Alexus, Byzantine Emperor during the time of the First Crusade. Now I am reading a book called "The Gandhi Reader" about, well, Gandhi.

Somewhere in the middle of all that reading, listening to the Rain King on the morning commute I overloaded, the bullshit meter pegged, the gag-o-rama went to max.

Man, we humans are full of shit sometimes. Selfish, self absorbed pricks.

First, who really gives a shit about what happened between my ex and me. Boo hoo, big deal. At least I am still alive, hell I can foxtrot! I know two people in there 30's who had cancer, one died two nights ago, the other survived, but cannot raise his arm above his head with out crippling arthritic pain. Get it, I am mulling a sail board purchase, this guy ten years younger that me would give his right arm to be able to get back up on one. Tough life, huh Maurice?

For the rest of you divorced male whiners, get over it, ok? Move on. If it was your fault, shape up. If it was her fault, choose better. For God's sake get a life and a personality and stop defining yourself around some other person. Pull your fucking head out of your ass.

Then to all the selfish bastards whining about their husbands/wives/significant others, all the "I'm not gettting the loving I deserve", or "I am not getting the _______I deserve", And using that to justify any and all kinds of actions. Provide me a break, puleese. All of us writing here are writing from the first person, my feelings, my libido, my thoughts, my needs. What the hell about the other person? Are we the special ones, the only ones in the right? The only ones who matter? And if the other person really has all those issues, have we had the courage to face it squarely like adults, or are we too chickshit, simply content to bitch and screw around and become the weasels we abhor?

(The only honest guy on this one is AJ. He admits he is a piece of work and knows that his life with CW is part his making.)

Take a trip over to michaelwolbergupdate.blogspot.com. Read the archives. There is the story of a woman who was the pregnant working mother with a stay at home dad, when he was diagnosed with stage four lymphoma, pratically a death sentance. Their story is nothing short of heroic, of love and faith and impossible odds, and a happy ending, of sorts.

Do you hear her bitching about "He doesn't horse fuck me anymore"? Holy Christ she saved his life and supported them and bore a child. You think she is getting monkey sex every night as her just reward?

Anybody remember what it means to love someone?

If I have to read one more post from a self absorbed boy-man talking shit about how much a player he is, or how much money he has, or "fat chicks need not apply" ( realizing that his definition of fat is anything north of Laura Flynn what ever the fuck her hyphenated name is) I will puke. And all of you assholes who think that at 40 you can start cheating on your wife with the bimbet of the week club then go into childish tempertantrums or sobbing fits when said wife gets sick of you, well, can you do all of us a favor and just jump off a fucking cliff. If you miss her so much, why did you fuck around on her/shit on her in the first place, dickhead?

As for the women, don't get me started. The archtype is a chick called Avatar. Plays up the I'm too cool for you-too-hot-for-you-too-bitchen-for-anyone-don't write me if your email has one typo-queen of cyberspace let me tell you why you are soo below me throw rocks at boys.

Then bitches about a bald 40 year old guy dumping her?

Am I the only one who sees the logical inconsistancy here?

The truth is, the guys won't call her on her shit because they are too busy kissing her ass, and the girls are just the same.

Ok, I will. Avatar, I don't know you, but I would'nt fuck you with my dog's dick. As to grammer rules, stick them up your ass, precocious mouthy chicks stop being cute after the age of 14.

For the record I never wrote the gal. She is actually quite typical, just gets to be the example. There are a ton of them.

Men, quit being chickenshit assholes. Figure yourselves out. If you want a relationship, then work at it and be in it and if it has problems then face them and take the consequences. Stop using women, either as your surrogate mommy or your surrogate whore. Grow up.

Women, quit being selfish, self-centered children. You have grown up, act like it. Ask for what you want, work with your partner, or part ways. Sorry to break it to you, the world does not orbit you, and anyone who tells you that it does is probably just trying to sell you something or get laid.

For both of you, knock off the lists, the trysts, the pisseds. The world does not need one more smart ass calling foul or "gotch ya", or one more idiot with a long list of needs. Next time try tolerance, try telling the truth, try to understand the people around you.

We all want, want, want. The sheer volume of our wants must cause the gods to vomit from the stench. When will we ever learn that we get what we give, and we start by giving. Addicts all of us, how do we find time in all the selfish craving to ever live.

Thank God I met Fiancee.

p.s. I did not spell check today. Fuck it.

Valentine Interlude

The Fiancee is watching the Bachelorette, her one guilty pleasure. The hot tub is fired up and the Champagne is on ice, so no worries. T minus nine minutes and counting.

Random catchup. The beloved cat of the Fiancee was put to sleep today after 19 good years. She had a great run, but in the end the kidneys were failing and we were left with one option. It made for a sad weekend and a sad morning, but we have moved on thru the normal grief, and part of tonight is a celebration of the kitty's life.

We do get attached to our pets, don' t we.

My guess is that Kayten loved her Valentine poem, actually the comments tell it all. People, you need to spread the love. Life is beautiful and terrible, no guarantees and no insurance against bad times, but the ride is well worth it...Partly because others make it so.

I promise to do a proper post this week, I owe AJ a Saga of the Sea and I have to weigh in on the religious debate fostered by his "Holy Crap" of last week.

But not tonight.

Tonight, is all about the one true love..

Ta Ta!

Happy Valentine's Day, Kayten!

Sorry I have been out of touch, much happening on all fronts. AJ, I heard your request for a Saga, and it is at the ready five, but today I have a more important post.

Today, Bad Girl and I are wishing Kayten a Happy Valentine's Day!

And so without further ado, Kayten, this one's for you.


Today is the day of St Valentine fame
Sacred to lovers to enjoy with out shame
For once a year each Knight and his Dame
Make their feelings for each other quite plain.

Some feel familial: love for mom, love for dad
Sister, brother, cousin, for them all quite glad
Cards and well wishes by all are had
Forget not the kids, lest they be neglected or sad

But amongst all these loves, one stands strong and true
The friends that support us, and Kayten-that’s you


Lover, you are, to the group of us here
That meet in the space of electrons, so dear
You bare your soul and teach us to hear
For that, we do hold you dear

There are those of us, whom you’ve touched to our core
Some of us lust, thinking naughty thoughts and more
There’s a group after laughter, sometimes their cheeks become sore
But no matter the case-you are never a chore

Kayten, friend, most new and treasured
The love we feel for you can not be measured


To conclude our tribute, please know we care
You give us so much with all you share
Just as you are, honesty you dare
Our days are much brighter, lovely and fair

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Random Walk Thursday

I am convinced that someone at work is surfing porn sites.

We are a small company, almost all men. In fact there is only one woman and she is someone's cousin. We did have one other gal here before in marketing, she was a knockout. Late 20 something that came to work every other day in low rider jeans, purple and pink thong and too tight top. The Beautiful Bringer of Painful Woodys. Damn, we miss her.

Anyway, the email system is getting slammed with spam that promises pictures of girls in all kinds of compromising positions with guys, other girls and farm animals. Either that or cheap viagra. It is getting a bit ridiculous, if this were a bigger firm someone would be getting their HR ass kicked. As it is.....

Farm animals??? Holy Bo Peep, Batman.

Actually this is a unique work environment. We all work like demons, but also have lots of control over our work and personal lives...Lots of expectations and responsibilities but very few rules. I have time to blog at work, and I can expect to be on conference call tonight at midnight for a while, and all is well with the world. Really not complaining, but if we ever start to grow, we need better spam filters.

Average Joe had a great post on the big O, female version. I wanted to add one to the list

8. The religious: "Oh God, Ohhh Godd, OOOOOHHHHH GODDDDDD! "and your face gets a warm soaking. " ohhhh, lord, ohhhh lord, ohhhhhhhhhhh....."

I am waiting for one of the women to post the male orgasm list. Come on girls, tell us what we are like. Inquiring minds want to know.

Fiancee and I are on the every night program this week. She is not the freakiest girl ever, but very fun and consistent. That, and I get the full boatload of love and affection. One unfortunate aspect of this is that it makes my blog a bit, well, pedestrian compared to others. Really good married or almost married sex makes for a great life, but not great reading. Oh well, I guess I will just stick to cyber pop philosophy and esoteric history.

Average Joe also blogs today about the fuckwit response by his present company to his resignation. Yes, it is amazing just how inept most corporate management structures are when it comes to people, or just about anything else. In the end, taking better care of your people is a lot cheaper than scrambling to replace and re-train said replacement. The Fiancee is Human Resources at a Very Big Company ( just changed over from a different Very Big Company). When you put her experiences together with mine, it becomes clear that the fuckwittage factor is very high across the board. I should analyze this sometime, but for today I just hope AJ is getting in his laughs at their expense.

So I am at a cross roads, not exactly sure what to blog about. Therefore, in the grand corporate tradition of acquiring market feedback, I will ask you, the reading public, to indicate with comments which of the following I should put pen to paper: (or fingers to keys)

1. The Saga of my Big First and Only Affair

2. Follies in Internet Dating

3. A Saga of the Sea.

4. The Story of my Dot Comm Bomb.

Comments anyone?

Game Theory

This past weekend I visited my parents with the Fiancee. Dad has a number of health issues, topped by Parkinson's. The medication they give you for this is pretty nasty, it helps with the symptoms but gives you hallucinations. He has had very bad ones, and as a result they have taken him off the medication. The hallucinations are getting better, he is left with the awful sight of bugs in his skin, he thinks that there are nests of them under his arms and sees the feelers.

When I got there, he seemed better, but still weak, needing almost constant care and monitoring. My mom is doing a terrific job, but she is human and needs a break. So my brother and mom and I have all decided that she needs home assistance for dad two days a week for a few hours, just to get out and do errands and meet friends for lunch. This is critical as the experience has been stressing her out.

Did I tell you that my dad is a piece of work? A nasty alcoholic, he turned into a paranoid, needy old man, terrified that my mother would leave him. God knows, no one could have blamed her. But she has stood by him for over 46 years. Well, the old man is convinced that the home health care is a plot to let mom get out of his sight and start running around on him.

So today I call dad and break the news on the home health care. No way he says. I am insistent, mom needs breaks and he needs constant care. He tells me he does not need the pressure. I tell him it is not about him, mom needs a break and he cannot be left alone. Finally I tell him to think about it and we will talk later.

Mom calls me thirty minutes later, (we had arranged for me to make this call while I was out there). Apparently after the call, dad perked up, wanted to go run errands and declared that he no longer saw the bugs. It's a miracle.

Amazing.

The games we play to try to manipulate the world, even when we don't really know why.

Game Theory is the study of, well, games. Not games of chance, that is a different discipline all together. Game theory, first worked out by John Nash, is a mathematical theory of conflict situations where n groups of individuals can take y strategies to achieve z outcomes with different "payoffs". Fascinating topic, I was first introduced to it by a book " The Ropes You Skip and the Ropes You Know", a little treaste on behavior in corporations.

By the way, Nash was nuts. Saw people that were not there.

One particular game of interest is the "Prisoners Dilemma". You see it played out every week on "Law and Order". Two suspects are put in different rooms and told that the first one to spill the beans and rat on their partner gets a deal, the other gets the max jail time. Each has the same problem. If both keep their mouth shut, then they both stay out of jail. If one guy spills the beans then, he gets a deal, not as good as staying out of jail, but a better payoff then the schlub that keeps quiet, since schlub now gets the max penalty. The result is that they both spill the beans, getting a worse "payoff" than if they just kept their mouth shut.

The problem is one of trust in the face of incomplete information. Neither knows what the other is going to say or do, and so, have to assume the worst from the other and act accordingly, even though the result is much less that if they could just trust the other.

Prisoner's Dilemma is one of the three basic games, it shows up all the time in human interactions, situations where cooperation would give the best outcome, but the possibility of one of the participants gaining advantage by not cooperating forces all participants to not cooperate, providing the next to worse outcome for everyone. Almost ever situation in human commerce and governance displays aspects and versions of the Prisoner's Dilemma.

A converse version of this game is the problem of the common garden. In this one, if all the neighbors pitch in to keep up a common held park, then all benefit. But if one guy shirks, he gets the benefit without the work, getting a better payoff. The result, no one works on the park and it turns to weeds. Anyone ever involved in volunteer work can identify with this one.

So how do you solve prisoners dilemma?

Big question with no easy answers. On the grand scale of nation states a lot of very smart people get to spend an awful lot of money to solve this Dilemma.

At the micro level, between two people, the answer is a bit more straightforward:

Trust, and behave in a way that is trustworthy.

In one regard, all the ethics and morals and taboos about keeping your word, speaking the truth, holding fast to your vows, are all cultural mechanisms to get around the terrible logic of the PD. At the most fundamental level we are all prisoners, unable to hear the internal conversations in the head of the person next to us, tempted to believe the worst and act accordingly. Without trust, human relations and thus human survival would be impossible.

Very pollyannish, you might say. Truth is, lots of people lie. They lie mostly to rig the game. You see, in a lot of these game situations, lying does improve your chances of winning. Cheating does work, it gets you what you want at the expense of the other players. Lying to your wife gets you hot sex with the bombshell at work and a home cooked meal.

What can confuse game theorists is not that we do lie or cheat or assume the worst to get the best outcome. After all, that is what the simple game matrices predict. What confuses them is when it doesn't work, when we play fair. Game theorists have set up experiments where a person assigns payoffs to himself and other players. The theoretical out come should be that the decicing player gets all the winnings, the game is set up to solve that way. What happens, much to the scientists chagrin, is that people generally allocate fairly and share.

What they came to realize is that most of life is not a single one time game, but a repeated series of the same game, over and over. You can cheat once and win, but the next time you are known as a cheater, and no one wants your participation. (Assuming they did not drag you out onto the ice and leave you there, something the Eskimos have been known to do to white guys that give offence, or so I have been told.)

The necessity of playing the same game over and over with the same people changes the structure and payoff matrix of the game, to where things like lying and cheating become bad strategies and things like Honor and equitable sharing and reputation and honest behavior become winning ways. In the long run, right action wins out.

Such it is with relationships, with lovers, friends, family and co workers. You think you can cheat them and get one over, but over time, you get found out. Eventually, no one believes you any more, and knowing you are a cheater, a manipulator out only for yourself, they no longer choose to play with you, and though you win a couple of battles, in the end you lose the war. They cannot know your thoughts, and they cannot trust you, and they are left only assuming the worst.

And we wind up alone, spinning our schemes in our head while a world that is done with us and our lies moves on.

Some of us even act suprised and wonder why.

If I Hadn't Gotten Divorced

Sung to the tune of "If I only had a brain.."

Not really.

There is a theme in my posts these days. I get a brilliant idea for a post on my family, or on history, or politics or science tied to the realities of life and philosophy.

Then I fire up the old computer and visit my friends, and it all changes. Kayten is most to blame these days, she is in the middle of a life experience that I have just come through, so I suppose somewhere in my psyche is this resonant box that is still tuned perfectly to her life frequency, one post by her and HUMMMMMMMMMMMM. This is a gift from her, because partially, it is due to the Quadfecta that I have been jarred into looking at my divorce again, and processing it out prior to the wedding. Thanks people, there was a reason I found you.

Ok, so in response to Kayten's post, and with a nod to Average Joe and Bad Girl, I give you, the reading public, the following.

If I hadn't gotten divorced, I would have missed out on the following (not in any particular order, and just a sample):

1. Rebuilding my relationship with my brother and his family.

2. Taking a once in a lifetime backpacking trip with my brother and my son.

3. Meeting and joining my own urban tribe. The "Family Night Group" is a wonderfully alive pack of 30 somethings and one old bald guy. I lived the SF single life for a year, one of those "Summer in Paris" life experiences.

4. A year of "Family Nights", getting together every Monday with friends, food and reality TV.

5. Dating the Right Reverend ( or the Left Reverend). If you have never dated a minister, try it, very unique experience, sex and spirituality in big heady doses.

6. In reference to above: Attending TechnoCosmic Mass, Oakland's own Christian rave, attending The Earl Lectures, attending a whole host of events that are part of the east bay liberal religious environmentalists movement that I would never have even thought of attending.

7. Taking a good friend and traveling Malaysia and India. Hooking up with an old friend in Malaysia and dancing the night away with a pack of Chinese gals. Dancing the night away with a group of girls in Bali.

7A. Climbing to the ruins of the Rajmachi Forts, watching the sun go down over the Ghats from the topmost turret while being screened by a troop of monkeys.

8. Meeting Mark, the ex British paratrooper turned viagra runner.

9. My friend A's birthday weekends in the wine country.

10. Joining my church, becoming involved, running Christian outreach. Becoming the head of the church board. Giving time to others in a whole new way.

11. The Black and White Ball with Renee'.

12. Dancing the night away with my buddy Maurice ( he and I have the same name, just not Maurice) and two drop dead beautiful blondes, soused up on martinis served in pint glasses.

13. Having more time with my son, and him being happier now that the crazy ex is no longer in the picture.

14. Rapier Fencing.

15. A whole passel of new friends that never would have been in my life if I had stayed in my old situation.

16. A lot of really fun dates, and a bunch of really amazing nights of sex with a passel of new women.

17. Cigars

18. Lots of one on one time with Daughter, with our own routines and no one to nag at us.

19. And of course, meeting the woman of my dreams and desires, and planning a life together.

All of that, lost but for a bonehead move by my ex three years ago. Yes it sucked at the time, and yes it was hard and expensive.

But how do you put a price on those experiences?

One door closes, another opens. Did you really want to live in hell, when so much is out there for you?

Home

Status report from the visit home.

1. It is colder that a well diggers ass here in old Harrisburg by the river. Light snow all around, sunny enough day. I spent it indoors, as I was both exhausted by the red eye and jet lagged, and my dad is not exactly in the best of shape. Tomorrow the Fiancee is coming in and we will venture out some, show her the sights of the old sod. Both of them.

2. Dad is much better. He is lucid and sleeping and eating, which is a big improvement from two weeks ago. However, it is clear that something is changed, this last year of medical fiascos have taken their toll, and I do not think he will return to his former self. The decline may take years, but this is the beginning, the very beginning of the end. I am not sure how to process this, I am not even sure how to write this. Another post for another time.

3. Mom lost 35 lbs and looks great, very important because she was way too heavy the last time I saw her and it is not good for her health. She is coping well, but we are going to get the home help care set up to give her regular breaks. Dad is not too crazy about that, but my brother and I have talked and it just has to be. I will deliver the news.

I found my Dad's Drambue. Very nice stuff, he has a great liquor cabinet that never gets used, and impeccable taste in his booze. So here I sit, wide awake at midnight (which is nine pm Maurice body time) sipping Drambue. The perfect setting for a post.

As is always the case, I checked my four favorites on the relationship track, Kathy, Bad Girl, Average Joe, and Kayten. The quadfecta of perspectives, 20's 30's 40's women and a guy about my age that has a lot of parallels to my life.

Tonight, together, they hit me right between the eyes. Fucking Satori.

And I learned a few things about myself.

Yikes!

I identify greatly with Bad Girl, because, fifteen years ago, I was Paul with a Bad Girl of my own. Jackie was 21, I was 30, and any night of our affair could have been a page out of BG's Blog. (hey Bad Girl, should I write that story?). I completely understand her, all the way down to the mix of obsessions, needs, feelings and conflicting emotions, the ache for each other that cannot be denied. Jackie needed to be consumed by me, marked, used engulfed. I needed to engulf her and feel her complete submission, her craving to please me and complete me and in the process, complete herself. Like Bad Girl, she was both young and suprisingly together.

Thinking about that tonight, I realized that I have had a lot of those relationships. Desperate, consuming, engulfing. I attract that to my life, even up to just a few years ago when I had something like that with the wife of the Ex's rehab boyfriend, she had to feel the soreness in her ass, the thrust of a cock in her mouth, the cum on her face. For me, a part of me, it is like a drug, and I needed to have it.

Then I read Kayten's dissertations on Automobiles. Eye opener. Here was a woman plainly spelling it out, I think: she wants the romance, the perfect short story. She wants James Bond to send her a ticket to Goa and meet her at the bar by the terrace at Bauga Beach, white pants, pressed bush shirt, flower in his hand. Kisses and passion and dancing, days motorbiking to the falls. She wants Bogart in Rio, Hemingway in Barcelona. Then gone, and we will always have Paris, maybe a letter one day out of the blue, posted from Mombassa.

I know that guy. He is a very independent character, an adventurer, a poet, a spy. I know men like that, self contained and self reliant, they need only themselves and their passion and the ability to travel light. Kayten talks about him like he is dangerous, but that is not always the case. Some of the men that fit the bill are dangerous, liars and players, users that think only of themselves. But a lot are not, they are honest about their independence. There are women who understand them, and for those women, they are the best. I think that they get into trouble when they and the women they are with try to kid each other into believing that they are something else.

For a long time I wanted to be that guy. Heck, I sent my first airplane ticket to a girl at 19 in college. We had the perfect short story long weekend. I really wanted to be that guy, tried to be that guy. Needed to be that guy, damn it, I want to be fucking Dirk Pitt!!

But I am not.

Don't get me wrong, I have lived the adventure and continue to live the adventure. That is what life is Peter Pan, one grand adventure, and to die maybe the greatest adventure yet. It runs in the family, my brother, the evangelical preacher is climbing Denali this summer, and that at 42.
But an old girlfriend put it best when she pointed out that "you, Maurice, live in relationship. You need to be part of a two. It is your path." For the record, my brother has been happily married for the past 16 years, Himalayas, Zimbawe and all.

I want to sail the Andaman sea, but I need to do it with my wife.

The proof is in the pudding. When I am not attracting the Jackie's of the world what I realize is that I attract women who are ready to settle down, the ones in search of husband and family. This is not to say that the attraction is not legitimate. I think that who we attract and are attracted to depends on where we are at that particular moment. If I pop up on her search engine, I pop up when the criteria is set to "Life mate".

The woman that Kayten is describing, the Ferrari, I do not attract her. She either does not come into my life, or if she does, she is gone pretty soon . The few times that I have, it turns out that she was on a "test run" to see if she was ready for marriage. Conversely, I have had a few that blew me off in Ferrari mode that came back around when it was clear that they were ready for the next step.

Digression. This also explains the Ex, for she was a Jackie on the hunt for a husband. Double witching on that one. The problem there was that I am not sure that "Jackie" mode is sustainable for two people.

I never really got this about myself till tonight, at least not this clearly. I know how do do romance, but I do not know how to do flings, I am not a magician looking for the short story, I am looking for a novel. No good for a girl just looking for a magazine article.

My buddy "Ralph", his wife is finally leaving him after a decade of infidelity on his part. He is bummed for the kids, but tells me that he has had more poontang these past two weeks than he has had in the past year, hard to believe from a guy that has ongoing serial affairs, but you get the point. He is a good guy, but he is a very independent type and is exactly the kind of guy to sweep you off to the beaches of Malaysia, and leave you with Roses, memories, and the smell of great sex in the bed on a tropical morning. He just sucks at marriage, and I think his wife finally figured it out.

I will sweep you off your feet and drink Goan Margaritas ( my invention, I will have you know) on the beach at garuda and fuck you so sweetly that you will see god...but then I want to fly home to our house and feed the dog and talk about what we are doing next Friday, and when is your mother coming.

Ok, two other things. Kathy did a post on a dalliance during girls night out. I have to say, Judge not lest ye be judged, but she touched home on a very primal emotion. The ex dumped me out of the blue sucking some idiot's cock in rehab. Reading it, I felt for a moment how that would feel if, say the fiancee did that with some guy behind my back at a bar, and had a chance to feel what it was like when I found out what the ex had been doing. No question, zen master and all, in that moment I would take every bit of control I have not to break both of their necks. Point being, the emotions involved are very, very powerful.

Final thing, the saga of Average Joe. I have been there, I never want to be there again.


Long post, the point being:

1. I am a relationship guy. I am getting married again because 1. I love fiancee and 2. This is how I choose to live, in relationship with the one I love. Other modes tried and they are proven not to work.

2. Romance is critical. Write a novel, just make sure you write a lot of juicy parts.

3. You are by nature attracted to affair like situations, and they are attracted to you. DO NOT GO THERE. DANGER DANGER WILL ROBINSON. Not that there are any plans, just good to keep writing notes to self.

4. Print this out, put it in your wallet and read it every day.

Never Enough Time in the Day

Isn't that the case?

I am twenty five hours from landing in Harrisburg, and too much to do before I climb on that plane tonight. The modern world has made us into a race of psychotic multi-taskers, for this I blame computers and cell phones. Before these two banes of man's existence, communication bottlenecks placed practical limits on what could be even reasonably accomplished in a day. Now, in our ever connected, never off life we have convinced our selves that we can accomplish ten times what our ancestors ever could, and so we try. Quickly, this attempt becomes an expectation, and spills over into our personal life. So we try harder and faster. Problem is, I am not sure we are really accomplishing much more of any value. How many people do you know that work until ten at night catching up on their email? How much of it really matters?

Notes from the week. The Fiancee is just too cool for the room. We took a refresher dance lesson on Tuesday night. She decided to straighten her hair, came from work in the "uniform", black top, dark jeans, heels, black leather car coat. Smoking hot. She has the Manhattan thing down to a tee. I just walk along and smile.

We dance well together, mostly because we have fun and take it light. The only problem is that she is a tall gal, 5'9, and I am barely 5'10, so leading can be a challenge. A lot of ballroom dance steps work best when the gal is short and very light with respect to the guy. Also, when she took lessons before it was with a two left footed guy friend and she wound up leading, so she tries to lead me. The results can be a laugh riot. 95 days to W-day, we should have it by then.

This is important because the first song is a Cover of "I't Had to Be You" done by Harry Connik Jr. Very classy, but demands talent on the dance floor.

I will keep you posted. I might sell tickets.

I have been reading and digesting a couple of posts in the past week around love, lack of love, marriage, angst in marriage, and of course, sex. Then I had a freak out yesterday when I read an article on MSN about the real Desperate Housewives. The author went and interviewed a number of women who took up a version of the mommy track in the burbs to get their take on the series and how close to home it hit. Forget the TV show, a lot of what those women were talking about hit close to my home, at least my last two.

For those of you reading, I did not start this as a relationship blog, I actually was more interested in writing on a variety of subjects, and in time I will return to that theme, but very quickly I realized that my upcoming nuptials were forcing me to confront and analyze a lot of things about my previous marriages, in particular my last one. I love the Fiance and am convinced that she is the one...it is like that country western song "God bless the broken road that lead me straight to you.." .

Back to Desperate Housewives. Condensed Version

One woman claims to be so overwhelmed by the isolation and constant drum of child raising that she takes prescription medication to cope. ( that would be Ex nbr 2)

One copes by having the perfect little home. The only thing she has control over is how clean and organized the house is, and so she attacks it with a gusto bordering on obsession, driving everyone else to distraction. ( ah, that would be ex 2 as well).

You get the picture.

I am convinced that the suburban life with the commuting corporate dad and stay at home mom can be a nasty trap for everyone. It can be isolating and a combination of painfully boring and excruciatingly stressful for the stay at home mom. For the dad it is even more insidious. Men say their wives change when the kids come along, they focus on raising kids to the detriment of the relationship.

But men change too, just as profoundly. We become overwhelmed by the sense of responsibility for this family and our need to bring home the bacon by the pigload. Men work harder at the job after kids, not because we are trying to escape family, but because all of a sudden our career takes on life and death proportions. What was a job to pay for toys and tarts just became the critical life support system for these fragile, special little beings and their mother, who can go from partner and lover quickly to dependent in our minds.

Now this is not all bad. Kids need care, families need financial success and security. It is the modern implementation that is the trap, mom stuck at home raising kids without an outlet, dad at the office putting in hours, both spending large segments of the day and their lives interacting with everyone else BUT each other. Both going nuts, convinced the other one has it good and can never understand how hard their role is.

Ultimately, we fill our lives with our roles. We adapt. We stop seeing our partners for who they are and see them as their role, they stop being a person and become the archetype, and our archetype reacts to that. We are no longer John and Sue, but Everyman and Everywoman.

We fill our lives with our roles, and there is never enough time for each other. In truth the archetypes take over and there isn't even enough time for ourselves.

A veritable petri dish for anger, resentment, frustration and self loathing.

So many great couples have problems simply because they unthinkingly signup for this lifestyle and start living it until it is too late. They think it is what they want because it is what everyone else wants.

They never see the trap.

I see the trap.

I have talked to the Fiancee about this a lot, and while she cannot feel it the way I do, she gets it intellectually and she appreciates that my perspective comes from having lived it. Next on the list after wedding planning:

How to live a happy, full, together life. One with light and joy.

I'll keep you posted.

Heading Home

This Thursday I am off to the old hometown to see mom and dad. Mom is great, dad is a physical disaster. He is currently dealing with: bad heart, bad kidneys, bad eyes, painful back problems, Parkinson and hallucinations from the Parkinson. Last week he saw a marching band go through their living room, among other things. It will be good to see him, and they are both excited to meet the Fiancee. I hear it is freezing back there, so I pulled the winter gear out of storage last night. I'll report on the trip next week.

Wedding plans are moving forward apace. Location, Preacher, DJ, Photographer, flowers all lined up. We need to get dresses for the girls and pick out rings, but the Project Manager that is my beloved has all well in hand. The bachelorette weekend is arranged as well as the shower. No bachelor parties, mostly because there is no best man to organize it and the rest of these guys are way too busy to get their shit together. Probably for the best...Zen master I may try to be, but get me on a roll and all hell can break loose. If you are going to do something, then do it right and to the max, and what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.

Yes, much better to let it pass.

One other thing, I am starting a campaign. Valentine's day is coming up and Kayten is bummed anticipating a valentineless day, so....all regular readers, it is time to stand shoulder to shoulder with our friend and send her a Valentine on Feb 14, email, ecard, heck even a comment on her blog.

Lets show the love people.....she would do it for us.