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Regular One - The Journal of ...

Note: This raw document is now the pathetic substitute for what was once a glamorous journal. This is all that's left. This journal is not edited to the usual LoserNet standards.

Stasis as Art

There is no question that many things are weighing heavily on my mind and much of it is being distorted by the anger that I still have raging within me. I am also concerned because I have been noticing that many of my friends and homeys are going through some tough times. Caroll is in a deep depression. Can you blame her? She is back at Square Zero. When I talked with her on Friday, she seemed disappointed that I may not be moving back to mainland. She is certain that I need to be back on my own again. Some other friends may be going through relationship breakups, which further disillusions me. As you already know, only the damned handmaiden seems to be on top of the world. Where is the [copulating] justice?

Most of the people I know are not financially secure. They are a long way off from seeing any relief. I am in the same boat, although I have implemented yet another strategic plan to solve this problem. I am making many sacrifices to reach my goal. Yet, I know that it will take years to accomplish my goal in the traditional fashion. Enter the e-Commerce venture. We could technically lose our shirts over these projects. Paul (in Seattle) started up a business a while back and it turned into a highly successful venture. I asked him about how he capitalized his business initially. He said that he did it on a shoestring. "I started it with about $1,000. I bought an oscilloscope and a bag of ICs," he added. I was astonished, to say the least. He further encouraged me to do everything I could to start up this venture especially if I believed in it. I am firmly committed to these projects. Yet, will I have to stamina to continue on my own, if need be? Will the fire water end up being my Achilles' heel?

As a side note, Regular One will soon be linked to the main LoserNet pages under Old Man Noises and Other Strange Tales. It will be toted as the Lost Journaltm but nothing will be reformatted. The journal will continue in this spartan format until I finally lose my mind. There will be no new chapter names or descriptive headings as in the days of old. I took pride in the journal then. The handmaiden attempted to destroy the journal. It almost worked. The [UJ] archives (or "journal of the mind") will remain secured. Naturally, there may be special "open house" sessions just for fun.

My whole goal in life is to retire. That's right. I want to retire. I will still work but I want to be selective about what I do. I definitely do not want to be a wage slave. I'm not sure what I'm going to do when I retire. I am basically retired now. I have a lot of time on my hands. However, I do not have a secure feeling because I have no dough. So, I am effectively a wage slave. Paul is basically doing the same thing in Seattle. He is working toward retirement. However, he knows that he wants to spend the rest of his life sailing to different ports of call. I'm not sure what I want to do.

That's probably why I wanted to get married. I'm a tough guy to live with, though. Just ask the handmaiden. Well, actually, don't ask her. If you hear her explanation by chance, then be sure to substitute the word "money" for "affection" or "intimacy." Also, substitute "Mercedes" for "love." As I've said before, I am not sure that I can trust any babe. After all, when will I have made enough money to satisfy any babe? Probably never. The Master was on to all of this. That's why he made a firm commitment to The Hermitage early on. He has never faltered. Yet, why does The Master continue to stay in Convalescent City? In a way, I think that he's waiting for the opportunity to fall from grace. He wants it to happen. Is he prepared to go through what I went through? I doubt it. Then, the issue of one's falling from grace raises the question of possible ramifications. Can The Master really go back to The Hermitage after that? In my own case, I see that I am now grappling with that same dilemma only from the perspective of a former monk. I should have been elated to return to the monk ways. Instead, I am now locked in a world of depression, GrooveTech, fire water, unanswered questions, and debaucherous thoughts.

In the old journal, I mentioned an unusual occurrence two years ago on April 17th while I was in Oregon. I had a vision that was so chilling that I was certain that it was not a dream. With the handmaiden sleeping in my arms, I found little to substantiate what that entity was. I later ascertained that the billowy figure was indeed the sinister force (brother to the sinister kahuna). Whether it was truly the sinister force placing its hand upon me or whether it was a warning message from a higher source was not known to me then. In retrospect, I believe that it was the latter. Some may find this ludicrous or claim that I am trying to fit the circumstances to an explanation slanted in my favor. I beg to differ. As I have seen many of my prayers answered and that many of the situations that occur in my life are beyond coincidence, I know that there is a higher source involved. Why? Here's an example. I had prayed often to the Creator to reveal what was truly in the handmaiden's heart. After each time I prayed, I had some of the worst encounters with the handmaiden, choreographed entirely by her. At first, I thought that my prayers were not being answered. Later, I came to realize that they were answered. The handmaiden was showing me exactly what was in her heart. As it stands, the handmaiden's success in life is guaranteed by her master, the sinister kahuna. I know that it is difficult for many of you to entertain this thought. So, just humor me. I don't believe that I have a spiritual connection with the nether world. I do believe that we are, however, all connected to a spiritual source. We have a choice to filter out the messages or not. [Refer to how dreams were used a a conduit of information in the Good Book] And, I'll go one step further by saying again that I believe I was protected by that higher source. It flushed out the demons for me and then expelled them. Otherwise, you can only imagine what would have happened to me in the end. Lord have mercy on my soul.

Sunday July 18, 1999

Big headache. That's about all I can say after another day of extreme fire water consumption. This is getting to be a bit ridiculous. More on that in a minute. Bruce called this morning to confirm when we will meet tomorrow. Kevin (cyclist@flash.net) and I talked for a bit today. It was nice to hear from him as I was losing my mind. I mentioned that I may be flying to the mainland again around Labor Day weekend. Pathetic, isn't it? Kevin has still been trying to talk sense into me. Heck, it's not like I don't know any better. Frankly, I think I'm at the end of my rope. And, I'll be honest with you. I have had recurring thoughts of just ending this whole situation, if you know what I mean. It wouldn't be so bad but I am dealing with major stupidity all the time. I can see why I'm better off being a loner. For one thing, I cannot depend on anyone for anything. Most people need a lot more help than I do. I believe that the majority of people are simply followers. A small minority are dreamers, of which an even smaller subset are the true visionaries. The followers are all sheep waiting for the shepherd. As for me, I am basically one of the sheep trying to impersonate a shepherd. No wonder I'm going nowhere fast.

Let's review the situation again. I am broke and unemployed. I have no babe. Bruce and I have a stupid e-Commerce idea and no way to fund it. I know no one with any expertise. And, I'm living at home with moms. This is so pathetic, I could cry. I'm fortunate to even have this useless journal. If the handmaiden had her way, it would be history. So now you see why I'm consuming fire water like there's no tomorrow. There is no tomorrow.

Bruce has been trying to persuade me to snap into action with the babes. Yeah, right. I would be wasting my time. Babes have no use for a penniless loser like the ol' lavahead. Maybe I should take what little I have left in my savings and drop in the nearest escort service. At least I wouldn't have to put up with the damned game. I can pay to have company. When my time is up, everyone gets up and leaves. No heartache. No sorrow. No phone games. No handmaiden games. That bitch made a chimp out of me. It's a good thing I couldn't persuade her to do the wild thing with me one more time. I would have brought the K-Y jelly and shoved my lubed [appendage] up "where the sun don't shine." Then, I would bumrush her for thirty minutes before I would put my [appendage] in her mouth to shut her up. Man, I've lost it. I don't sound anything like a monk anymore. What has gotten into me? Where is all this anger coming from? It's alcohol-induced psychosis. I'm ready to cash in my chips.

The Game of Love

To be loved, one must first play "the game." What is this "game"? Well, you recall that the subject was discussed in the Monk's Guide to Dating. What I find to be almost too ludicrous is this pathetic ritual we call "the game." Basically, it is the dating game. Flirting. Innocuous conversations. Coincidental meetings. The phone call. More phone calls. The actual date. I'm getting woozy just thinking about it. It is this so-called "game" that determines not only the pecking order of guys but it also determines how guys and babes pair up to have what we like to call a "relationship." The "relationship" seems to come about after the wild thing if it is mutually agreed upon. Otherwise, it was just recreational boinking.

People appear excited to engage in this game. It is the guy's prerogative, I'm told, to ask a babe out. It's an honor and a privilege. Is it an honor to be rejected? I don't think so. I cannot imagine The Master playing this game, no less myself. Yet, this is it. It's the only way a guy will find a babe. If I came from another planet, I would remark, "This is a joke, right?" Sometimes I feel as though I've just arrived from Mars. After all, I have no idea how to ask a babe out. Worst yet, I have no idea what to do on a date. I can speak to a class of a hundred people. I can tell my pathetic jokes to them. But, damned if I could handle a date with a babe. In any case, this is the only procedure to find a significant other. So, somewhere along the way in "the game," the two people decide to fall in love. Am I just missing something?

I can only conclude that it's over for me before I can even start. As I've said before, I'm too far behind. I'll appear to be too much of a rookie and I'd only botch everything up. That would result in rejection, humiliation, and subsequent depression. Heck, I'm already depressed. Bring on the fire water!

Monday July 19

The e-Commerce conference at the Hilton Hawai'ian Village was a joke. Classic bait and switch. The so-called e-Commerce part took all of two minutes. The whole crux of the conference was another MLM scheme to promote Web page design using, of course, proprietary tools. The loser company, HB Systems, pretty much wasted everyone's time. However, there were many people who were duped into signing up for a day-long workshop. Bruce and I left a little disillusioned.

My options are narrowing down. I'm beginning to believe that the sinister kahuna is back to taunt me. I may have lost my protection because of the fire water and my fall from grace. Deeper I fall into depression. I am reminded of the Scripture that says that no one will be tested beyond what one can handle. I think I've been pushed way beyond my limit.

When I got home, there was a message from the LA connection. All is not lost. Bruce and I are still in the research phase but I told him that we need to act fast. Time is running out. For me, this project may be my only hope to get out of the rut I'm in. I'd just like to able to afford a new computer so I don't have to put up with this piece of [dung] anymore. Sheesh!

Oh brother. Finally, some comments from new virtual homey Mitch (mitchata@gateway.net):

To reiterate, your journals have given me a lot of pleasure. I would go off on a limb here and state for the record that they are modern day existential classics. Who needs to read Kierkegaard and Sartre when we have at a few clicks Loser Net? Americans do not like philosophy because it sounds too European and arcane as a whole. The Loser Net diaries brings to mind modern day Dostoevski musings with an American flare - an Notes From The Underground, circa 1990's Hawaii and Southern California. I know that I sound like I am kissing your arse here, but I am entirely sincere. If I was a Prof teaching a Contemporary Philosophy course, I would tout LoserNet as an example how existentialism is alive and well.

Thanks, Mitch. That made my day.

Tuesday July 20

I didn't go to Mango's yesterday but I ended up there today to meet up with Caroline and Angela. They are student babes at the business college. Today was Angela's 21st B-day. They were singing karaoke when I arrived. I had a nice time with them. It certainly beats drinking alone. There was another message on the answering machine from the LA connection. I called tonight to find out what's what. There seems to be some commitment but I'm not sure how far it will go.

I fear that I may be losing more virtual homeys because of the on-going situation with my foolishness. Robert (rbryant@world.std.com) is one of them. I answered his concerns in e-mail:

Yes, you're right. It's more of the same. Unfortunately, I am stuck in a rut here with my leads whittling down. I write how I feel, although I try not to carry myself that way during the day. Believe me, I am thankful that I'm not homeless in San Francisco. Like I said, I only write how I feel. I could gloss things over but then it would not be true. That's the purpose of my journal. It's how I feel. I don't talk about this stuff with anyone else.

There are many other factors about Hawai'i that I have never covered. It makes it difficult to discuss in brief. As far as babes are concerned, I am guarded about that issue. I realize that I cannot provide enough for any babe so I must first make myself self-sufficient. I have to kick myself in the ass for not implementing my plan a long time ago. Of course, I was too stupid then. I'll get over my idiocy because it's only hindsight. We all know better after the fact, eh?

But, the babe situation is interesting. There are a lot of fine babes here in Hawai'i. Sad to say, I have very little in common with the local babes. Had I stayed here in Hawai'i instead of venturing to the mainland a long time ago, I would be more in tune with the lifestyle.

Although I understand that the job market in Hawaii is less than it should be, you have demonstrated a tendency to run away when the chips are down. There may be jobs in Seattle, but are you sure that you'll be able to handle 250+ days/yr... of rain? I doubt it.

This is actually my first actual contemplation at running. I would not like it in Seattle but I believe that I can realize my goals quicker there. The complexity and intertwining of issues makes it difficult to make a qualified decision. Moms is a big factor. But, moms is also choking the life out of me.

Think hard before walking away from the teaching foothold you have established. You might be able to eventually work it into something that actually pays real money. Moms may not have much more time left, and although you might not realize that your company is good for her, you might be wrong.

I have thought about it. And, I do worry about moms. She is apparently the only person in the world who loves me. My bro certainly won't learn to forget his grudge until we meet at one of my parents' funeral. Then, what do we say to each other? Sad. That is why the journal is now a think tank for me. I contemplate all the issues I face and I sadly include my emotions at the same time. I am exasperated and disappointed with myself, not because of the handmaiden, but because I do have a lot of the "Hawai'ian style" still inculcated in me. I will probably discuss more of this in the journal. These are some thoughts that need elaboration.

There are many issues that I covered in this e-mail in brief. This opens up the possibility that I may be misconstrued. Therefore, I will cover some of these points as we go on.

Wednesday July 21

Caroll called at 2am this morning and left a message. I finally talked to her tonight. She is going through a tough time at work. Her cat has also passed on. So, I know that she is very depressed. Caroll's cat has been with her for 17 years and has been like family to her.

The complexity of the babe issue stupefies me. So much so that I happened to stumble across some interesting material while I was researching the Net for e-Commerce stuff. Two articles are of particular interest. The first article is called "How It All Fell Apart" by John Galt (www.ncfm.org/galt.htm). The other is called "Can't we all just get along? Can't we just go out on a date?" by Zen Priest (www.geocities.com/RainForest/Vines/3951/). Let me make one thing clear. I am not a misogynist. However, I have noticed an interesting thing about babes these days. Even the nicest babes seem to harbor some kind of anger against men. I catch it in many of the off-the-cuff statements that they make. In the history of the journal, I have always mentioned how I have sensed this attitude. I have never been able to quite articulate my observations as well as the authors of the articles I cited. Galt summarized the situation:

The sad truth is that I'd rather eat Drano than try to love a woman, only to find that my every act and intent was viciously and maliciously twisted into a victim's melodrama which I might spend the next several years in prison paying for. The entire purpose of the criminal justice system is to control and attempt to eradicate deviance. Now that men desiring women has been declared deviant, the eradication efforts are having their effects.

In the end, the hard lesson that women really need to take from the real man shortage is this: by denying and negating our needs, by making wanting you into a criminal act, by being so self-centered that you cannot see any act in the world as being motivated by anything other than intent to frustrate your needs and desires, you have proven to us that what feminists began saying 30 years ago is equally true in reverse. Not only is a woman without a man like a fish without a bicycle, a man without a woman is like a bicycle without a fish.

I have finally begun to wind down the fire water consumption. I am limiting myself to two brewskis a day and will soon go down to just one a day. I've only been to Mango's once this week.

Some dickhead (dangerhate@aol.com) is sending me harassing e-mail. He keeps calling me a "fucking loser." So, I wrote back. Well, I wrote some other stuff first, but I could not include it here, if you know what I mean. I also suggested that he ingest some Drano. Bad ol' puddy tat!

Thursday July 22

The dickhead continues to send harassing e-mail. He also blocked my e-mail address but I know how to get around it. What a maroon! I met with Kala and Angela at Mango's this afternoon after class. I enjoyed their company. One of the assignments I have assigned my classes is to write a paper about anything. It's all part of a word processing project. Many of the students have written about very personal material in my favorite "Life as I Know It" vein. The message has been clear. Many of them, although they are much younger than I, have gone through tribulations far worse than I have. As such, I was deeply moved by Nadine's paper for one. She had suffered many family tragedies as well as two ectopic pregnancies. I suppose that many of them are trying to make me realize that life is hard and we are in the same boat together. In conclusion, Nadine wrote:

You know, people tend to write about their love life, success, and fantasies. But never about their down points in life. I have and until I find something else to write about this is what I tend to do. It's not what most people want to hear or read or even acknowledge it's there. And if writing is the only way of therapy for you as it is for me, I've got one advice. By all means do it. Write, and write until your heart's content.

Moms told me that pops has cancer of the bladder now. She said that she could sense some apprehension in his voice. Pops had gone through surgery a few years ago for colon cancer. It's in remission. However, I am not certain about this new diagnosis. The issue of my parents' mortality will continue to haunt me from this point forward. I suppose that it's just another part of life. Yet, I couldn't help but feel so all alone. I am now beginning to understand why my options are limited. There was a reason after all.

Time for the hot subject of the week. Another quote, this time from the article by Zen Priest:

Women who have completely bought into the fictional notion of men's insatiable sexual appetites, and the denial of any role that women play in the sexual dance made necessary by wiping the notion of "she asked for it" out of the cultural knowledge bank, are finding that they have forgotten HOW to "ask for it" and as a result aren't getting any of "it." There has even been a clinical term coined for it - ISD, Inhibited Sexual Desire. As male sexuality has been criminalized, and hatred of sexuality become ever more of a cultural institution, the hard work necessary to maintain a level of libido has become increasingly unworth the effort.

The net effect for women has been two-fold. As long as they continue to rely entirely and exclusively on the passive strategy of attraction and abuse the sexual power they have, they are automatically sorting out all but the most aggressive males. Thus their attitudes become self-fulfilling prophesies as they make themselves so obnoxious that any man who is capable of sensitivity and warmth cannot stand to be around them. Thus, in order to attract men AT ALL, even the most aggressive ones, they have to resort to more and more extreme measures of emphasizing and calling attention to their sexual attributes. The real "Beauty Myth", just like all other feminist myths which absolutely refute any role that women take with their own decisions in shaping the outcomes of their lives, is that ANY of these standards are imposed from the OUTSIDE, by PATRIARCHY or by the culture as a whole. The truth is that they are the primary methods which WOMEN USE TO COMPETE for that commodity so desired by women - MALE ATTENTION.

As I said, I have observed these kinds of behavior on the part of babes. I can see why it's gone too far. The various media have been over-sensationalizing this material and has used it to fuel the gender war as well as to line their corporate coffers. Who really benefits from a continued war? As always, the suppliers of the munitions.

Friday July 23

Why all this discussion about the babe situation? And, why from the standpoint of the men's liberation front? First, the babes are probably rolling their eyes back in their heads, but I think they need to consider the other side of the coin. Annie may have summed it well:

I think maybe we are an egotistical bunch here in America. I think we place our values in stupid places, like our cars, for Pete's sake!!! You know, we think we are worth more because our car costs more ... What kind of values are those that depend on material goods? It doesn't say much for us. And that there is an entire industry of book-writing to tell us how bad the other sex is? Gees. Oh, and who has been giving you those dumbass tips on "How to love a Woman"? The only way to look at those are as "Suggestions on Living a more Courteous Life" and these should be applied to all. Except the really dumbass ones. They should be ignored. Men and women bitch about the same things, over and over. No one ever does anything to change, though, do they? They always expect the other one to change for them. Not gunna werk, no sirreee.

I guess my final thought is that men and women are competing. Constantly. Love is not competition. People take what should be an I-Thou connection and turn it into an I-It situation. Love dies then. Men and women want to control each other and dominate each other and win over each other. And they bitch and become angry when it doesn't work. That is where the problem is. None of that has any place in love. With those things present, love will never thrive. Love is not a game. Those who play it as such lose before they even start. That is all.

Cars determining our worth? Did you say "Mercedes"? Dumbass tips? Those are from a hurdy-gurdy site. Sheesh! Annie makes some valid points here. Guys and babes are too busy fighting each other to communicate. I know that I'll get some flack for this but I don't think there's anything wrong with being physically attracted to someone. That's the whole crux of biology. That should not be the focal point nor should expectations be unrealistic. Isn't that the key? C'mon, babes aren't wearing those Ally McBeel dresses just to turn other women's heads. And, guys aren't working out at the gym to impress Arnold. When a babe is attracted to a guy, does she say, "God, what a brain he has!" I doubt it. Otherwise babes would be flocking to the ol' lavahead. Just kidding! We constantly downplay biology because of its supposed troglodyte nature. Really, we have buried these so-called primitive urges just below the conscious level in much a Victorian manner. Along the same lines, did Prohibition curtail the evil fire water consumption? I rest my case.

I know what you're thinking. The true colors of the oversized cranium are finally coming out. He's just a shallow pig who is always thinking about gym babes and the wild thing. Gym babes. Wild thing. They go hand-in-hand, don't they? Well, if I should only be attracted to a person for their mind, then why don't I just go for The Bull or Tom. They're smart guys and I have great discussions with them. I don't think so. There is more to a relationship than a great mind. We just have to admit it already. Of course, what does it matter? I'm a monk.

What about the e-Commerce business? Already flushed down the toilet? No, Bruce had to undergo surgery today. He will be out for a few days to recover. Paul (from Chaminade) has found a new babe. Well, sort of. But, she's keeping him distracted enough. I'm now looking at taking a giant step backward by making this project an adjunct of academia. Well, hey, I am a professor! Well, sort of. It may work for us, though. More on that later.

I had an interesting discussion with moms about life, the handmaiden, and my retirement strategy. I'm not sure what moms thought. Yesterday, she had in me in a tizzy because she essentially told me that my plan to save as much dough as possible and retire was foolish. When Armageddon comes, money will be useless, she told me. So, what do I do in the meantime? Sit at home and wait for Armageddon? What if it comes years after I have been reduced to a penniless, psychotic fool on Fort Street Mall? Moms was even less impressed by the e-Commerce business.

My anger about the handmaiden seems to be subsiding. I am coming to the realization that the findings in the [UJ] archive were more than accurate. I am at the point now where I can summarize the whole affair by saying that the handmaiden and I were just not compatible. Nothing more, nothing less. However, it does little to quell my loneliness. The debacle has mainly made me keenly aware of how far behind I am in meeting my own objectives. That really is at the root of all my anger. It would be easy to place the blame on the handmaiden as she has done to me. However, she has accomplished her goals. She will live an opulent life thanks to Mercedes Boy. It is I who is stuck in the doldrums. I can't marry into wealth so I must earn it myself. But, I have become impatient. I'll be fifty years old before I even come close to meeting my objectives. It's too easy to be discouraged and look back at the wasted years. "If only I had done this ten years ago," I lamented. Let's face it. That's better than lamenting it ten years from now. Sheesh!


Writing. That's what I like to do although I have yet to produce anything publishable. With the advent of the Web, there have been literally thousands of us who have decided put our thoughts on the table for the whole world to see. In the beginning, there were just a handful of us. Remember the competitor? Now there are thousands of journal writers. So, you can pick and choose. You don't like one, then just go to another. It's kind of like anything else in life including relationships.

I write because I'm alone. I write more when I'm lonely. I tried to imagine a world where I cannot share these thoughts with anyone. That's the world of Fort Street Mall. Some say that my viewpoint is bleak. That can be said of many established writers, poets, lyricists and so forth. The bleak side of life must be presented in order to capture the spectrum of life. I believe that we all want a happy life but we elude ourselves into believing that it's just a mindset away. It is true that happiness comes from within. We are told this day in and day out by various media that also attempt to sell happiness in the form of opulence. Happiness comes from within but only if we buy something that makes us happy. That's the message. If it doesn't cost anything, of what value is it? On the surface, that tends to substantiate the belief that we find value only in what we work hard for. Since we work hard to earn income, then what we spend our money on must be of significant value. Corporate psychologists have worked for years to establish this feeble correlation. Of course, it's paying off now. I can't help but feel alone because I don't buy into this notion.

All I have to my name is my six-four, my beloved notebook computer, a crummy printer, my beloved cell phone, my Bose Acoustic Wave, and my clothes. I don't own anything else. In the over forty years I've been around, that is all I have amassed. The total value of my material assets is about $5,000 or less. Of course, I am $26,000 in debt. So you see, I do not fall into the category we normally call "success." I am a loser. And, a poor one at that. This is the way I'll always live. It's not a choice. I have no options. Having essentially zero income produces even less desirable results. So, you know the bottom line of my story. You know why I'm where I'm at. You know why I'm alone. The poor and destitute are always alone unless they have booze or drugs. That's when the so-called homeys crawl out of the woodwork. Come to think of it, the situation is the same at all socio-economic levels of life. Is there no escape?

Saturday July 24

I fell from grace again as I spent most of my day in a drunken stupor. Paul (from Chaminade) stopped by in the afternoon and helped me continue my drinking binge. Paul has been fortunate because the babe he has been seeing has been giving him play. He seems to be in good spirits. Little wonder why. I'm beginning to see that my survival may depend on whether or not I can get neutered. That's right. Being alone and lonely is not the issue. It is the fact that I cannot mate. That is why I am in a quandary. The process is completely biological. I cannot return to the monk ways. The fire water is necessary for me to anesthetize those so-called "troglodyte" feelings. However, how troglodyte-like are these feelings?

I am totally confused but I am beginning to see why. For one thing, why are babes the only ones who supposedly know what love is? Have you noticed that? Guys apparently haven't got a clue about love. We are too busy "lusting" is what I am told. Is that so? Sex is all that guys have on their minds, the babes continually tell us. However, I have yet to encounter a babe who hasn't been the one to initiate sex. Is it okay when the babes do that? Is it because they know when real love is present? Actually, I am getting tired of being a guy because I cannot do anything right. Just being a guy is an admission of error these days. Those of us who want to put a stop to this game are in the minority. The majority of guys are desperate. They have skewed the rules of supply and demand by being so desperate. It's all a matter of perception. A perception entirely controlled by the babes. That is also the reason why monkish guys get more play than expected. For example, there was no reason for the handmaiden to pursue the ol' lavahead knowing he was an eunuch. Why would any babe tempt an eunuch?

Frankly, I just don't want to deal with it anymore. In the history of the journal, I have always asked, albeit rhetorically, how the forces of  biology can be combated. I really need to know. I cannot get off of the fire water until I have the answer. It is unnatural to try to suppress one's need to mate. I already know this from my years as a monk. Inertia precedes discipline. When the momentum is broken, it takes a long time, if ever, to get back up to speed. The "game" requires that a few of us suppress our need to mate. Otherwise, we will be convicted of sexual harassment. As far as the babes are concerned, there is a fine line between desirable and detestable. Do I, as a guy, need to subject myself to this torture? I think not, as I have always fallen into the detestable category. Of course, now you are wondering how I could be detestable and still have babes trying to initiate da wild thing. Entrapment. I'm easy prey. What else could be the answer?

I talked with Bruce today. His operation is not until next week. We are still going ahead with the e-Commerce project. We cleared up a few vague concepts of the model we are utilizing. Bruce is attempting to tackle the problem of developing strategic alliances and working partnerships with our potential vendors. This is the most critical success factor. If we do succeed, we may have a multi-million dollar international e-Commerce business on our hands.

Sunday July 25

Caroll called me from work early this morning. I was still in a stupor from yesterday. Things are not going too good for her. She wants her own place again. She may also need to borrow some dough to get a new place. I will try to help although I have no dough.

Here's a picture of my new future babe (see below). Just kidding! A babe like that would never give me the time of day. I can tell that she has a great mind, though. I can hear a few people already saying, "There he goes again!" Does the inclusion of this picture prove that I am a pig or that all I want is an incredible gym babe? No, it just means that my biology is wreaking havoc on me. Mitch (mitchata@gateway.net) had an interesting encounter with a couple of babes:

Adding on to my rudimentary misogyny, I was at the salad bar at the grocery store Thursday evening. These two attractive 20-something girls were there doing the same. I said hello to them to be polite, sans the proper response to me. A little while later, one of the Salad Sluts says to the other - "I don't know why these geeks feel like they have to say something to ME." For lack of any other geeks around the area, I could not help but to think that was a personal reference to my being. I was frozen because I knew I was in a lose-lose situation. But something immediately happened to forget momentarily my omnicient atheism: Just as the Salad Slut bagged on me, another slut friend of theirs made her entrance around the milk and yogurt section, and the salad sluts ran over to say hello to a fellow soroity sister who fucked the entire university football team, both varsity and JV, and relive old times. Then I noticed that the Sluts left their salad trays open, and seeing a rare oppurtunity for VENGENCE, I cleared my throat and spewed a huge lunger on top of the salad of the Salad Slut that questioned my social place in the realm. That nice yellow lunger via phlegm from tar from my Dutch Master and non-filtered Lucky Strikes addictions, blended in nicely with the Creamy Cucumber Dressing, I do say. I beat it out of there hoping that i am an immune carrier of some rare incurable disease that makes a non-immune host balloon up to 364 pounds, go totally bald, and break out in acne from head to toe which all the Clearicel in the industrialized world cannot put a dent in. If I would have had the time and a private cubicle to do it, I would've also unzipped and knuckle-shuffled some of my Geek jizzim into the salad tray, to add more spice to the salad.

Sounds like the kind of stuff that happens to me. Sheesh!

I called pops today. We talked for a while. Pops went in for surgery last week and had a tumor removed from his bladder. The tumor was malignant apparently, so the doctor believes that the cancer has spread to the kidneys as well. I could sense some apprehension in pops' voice. We talked about a variety of other subjects. Pops asked if I was okay since I had last talked to him. He was concerned about what happened between me and the handmaiden. I filled him in as best as I could. I guess he is a little disappointed that he will not see the day that I am married. I mentioned my bout with the fire water as a means of coping. "It's not going to help anything. You can't drown your sorrows. And, it's going to drive your mother to an early grave." Pops is right. As I stood on the hill near the park and prayed, I came to see my purpose in being here once again. It is possible that I will be saying my final good-bye to pops in the very near future. My real time of reckoning has come.

Pops may go to his final resting place not knowing with certainty how his one wayward son will end up. He will never see me married or meet my wife if I find one. He may never see the day that I become successful instead of being a burden. This little bit of anxiety will be with him when he takes his final breath. What kind of son have I been? Tears filled my eyes as I concluded my prayer. I walked back down the hill.

I popped open a brewski when I arrived at home. I could feel my abdomen jutting out and I felt bloated from two days of almost straight drinking. That annoying pain where my liver is supposed to be is back. I look and feel like a derelict. If I keep this up, there will be no chance that I end up with a babe like in the picture. All I'll have is my hand to hold my brewski can and to choke the chicken. I broke open a can of tuna and ate it straight out of the can. I felt like a total loser.

To be continued .... Got to R.6

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