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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.

Monday July 26, 1999

My choices are dwindling considerably. I will no longer have the option to move to the Siberia of the West. That option was closed this afternoon. So, I will be stuck in Hawai'i permanently. I will be broke and unemployed permanently as well. The sinister kahuna is working overtime to bring me to my knees. I suppose it's a fitting end for someone like myself. That is, unless the e-Commerce project comes through. I am gradually accumulating as much reference material as possible. I am way behind in the compilation of the business plan. Sometimes I wonder what it is all worth. I don't have any money and I barely have the business experience to pull it off. All I have is an idea. And, it may be a feeble one at that. Maybe I should just throw in the towel. I'm sure that I can get a job as a K-Mart greeter.

I broke open a can of Vienna Sausage for dinner. I ate that crap straight out of the can. It's symbolic of the situation in more ways than one, eh? And, what goes better with a cheap brewski? How about some Chee-tos? Am I livin' large or what? I have to apologize for my behavior in the last few days. Well, hey! I was losin' it! I know that those babe pictures don't belong here but I sure like to look at 'em. Maybe I'll make a special gallery called Babes I Can Never Have. Alas, life is an adventure. There is a lot of tragedy and sadness but there are moments of joy. I have made myself miserable many times over when I could have ignored my lot in life. Where am I going to go now? Heck if I know.

Tuesday July 27

There are days that I just don't feel like writing. This is one of those days. Actually, there's nothing to write about anymore. It's about time I design the JavaScript Journal Composer. If you've read the last few weeks, you'll notice an amazing repetition of events. Yep, it's the same old same old. Just like the old days. I may have to take another hiatus from the journal. Wait a minute! What else do I have to do?

I'm beginning to think that I need Viagra. I sense that I am becoming impotent. Who cares? I won't need the Vienna Sausage for much anymore. Actually, it just gets in the way. And, I'm an eunuch. By the way, I can hardly wait to release Regular One to the general public. I may end up with three more readers. Perhaps we should all embark on a grassroots campaign to publicize LoserNet. Maybe I'll be able to realize my dream of becoming a writer. And, what of my poetry Like Chimp II?

Wednesday July 28

Another day, another dollar ... short. Caroll called and left a message that she has moved again. She's renting her own place instead of renting a room in someone's house. I'm not exactly sure how she is going to afford the place. I tried to call her but she did not return my call.

I am becoming more unsure of myself as the days pass. The e-Commerce plan is beginning to sound like a dreamer's concoction. I may have to step back into reality. I doubt that I could pull off the project. After all, who am I? No one knows me from the psychos on Fort Street Mall. The whole crux of the project depends on whether we can develop key strategic alliances. I doubt that I could persuade a homeless guy to give me a nickel. And, the model we are working with assumes very thin margins. I have tried to recruit some talent but no one wants to work for free. The only person who is working for free is, as usual, the ol' lavahead.

Finally, Steve (gebiga@hotmail.com) wrote, "I've been reading the private journal, but I'm not nearly caught up to the present. But it's clear that some new music will help you get over your woes. Here is a list of some good therapeutic tunes." The list included some 25 Country & Western hits. My favorite titles are:

  1. How Can I Miss You If You Won't Go Away?
  2. I'm So Miserable Without You, It's Like Having You Here
  3. If I Had Shot You When I Wanted To, I'd Be Out By Now
  4. If The Phone Don't Ring, You'll Know It's Me

Sheesh! I need the lyrics already!

Thursday July 29

This was the first day I've been to Mango's since last Thursday. I have not cut back on the fire water, however. I met Angela and Caroline there. Angela had to leave shortly afterward but Caroline stayed. We chatted for over an hour. Peter, the bartender, gave me a lead for the other e-Commerce project we are working on. A buddy of his works at an exotic dance club in Waikiki. He apparently knows quite a few of the exotic dancers. I ended up missing the last express bus and took the regular bus home.

Bruce apparently went in for surgery today, a day earlier than I expected. I'm not sure what is going on. Meanwhile, in Georgia, some ex-con founded a sect in which its followers have constructed two 40-foot high pyramids and a Sphinx. Why can these lunatics find followers and I cannot persuade a single soul that the e-Commerce project is a good idea? It seems that the dumber and more outrageous the prospect, the easier it is to find suckers. Therefore, I find it necessary to include the picture of my dream babe again. I'd construct a Sphinx for her! Booyah!

Friday July 30

The dreaded weekend is here again! Bruce came into town today. He was a little woozy because he is still on some strong medication. The surgery he underwent yesterday was exploratory. He found out that he does not have cancer so he was relieved. I was happy to hear the good news myself. I'll find out the news about pops next week. So far, it doesn't sound too good. Moms has been sending off a lot of paperwork to him in the last few days so that has further raised my level of concern. In my last conversation with pops, he also asked me a generic question about whether beneficiaries would have to go through probate court or not. This situation does not come at a good time. My level of fatigue has increased almost to the breaking point. You may have heard what happened in Atlanta GA yesterday. That could easily be me.

I keep rethinking my situation here and I just don't get it. I live in a great place. The weather is really fantastic. There are gorgeous babes everywhere and I am in a funk (as Steph would say). I do nothing but I actually do more than most people in Hawai'i. The reason being that most people (locals) in Hawai'i are living in poverty. As an example, I travel to the mainland several times a year. My problem is that I am continuing to make comparisons of myself to the elite. Most of the transplanted mainlanders are extremely affluent. Little wonder why the handmaiden specifically targeted this market. I have, however, possessed the knowledge to have done much better for myself than I did. I've already revealed that I am at the sub-poverty level. It will take several years of sacrifice and dedication to get out of this mess. I think that's what really gets to me. Yet, there's absolutely nothing I can do except to put in my time, as it were. Sounds like prison, doesn't it?

I am also beginning to wonder if I am going through that so-called "mid-life crisis." I have noticed several babes around and I could feel an energy surging within me. I felt like I was ready to explode several times. I'm not talking about a violent rage, by the way. If we embark on the "other" e-Commerce project, I may end up a babbling fool. Can you imagine how hard it will be to discuss business with those exotic dancers? Sheesh! And, what if we end up producing and starring in hurdy-gurdies with these babes? Just kidding! I thought you may have started daydreaming while reading this crap. All of this just brings to mind an all-time favorite song of mine by the Beastie Boys called "All I Want is Girls."

In all seriousness, though, I'm not sure what I'm going to do about the babe situation. A few people have become frustrated with my vacillation concerning this issue. Let's face it. I have been priced out of this market. I have the budget of a high school kid. I'm broke and unemployed. And, look what I drive ... a beat-up six-four. That's a far cry from a new Mercedes. Perhaps that is at the core of my anhedonia. I have been weeded out of the mating process. I am not "dateable." I'll be at Barnes & Noble by myself and drinking coffee alone for the rest of my life. Maybe I need to pay a visit to my local gun shop.

As The Master has always told me, "One has to make do with what one has. If one has nothing, then so be it." The Master is a pillar of strength. Only he has possibly endured a half-century without babes. He has gone where no man has gone before. How does he do it? He is not even the slightest bit affected by the situation. It's mind-boggling. I have vowed to consult with The Master on my next trip to Cali. I need his help.

Saturday July 31

Well, I decided to visit the gun shop. The Internet Gun Shop, that is. Much to my chagrin, I found that the place was full of babes. Why is this? So, I decided to calm my nerves with the fire water. Yes, the fire water. Today was such a beautiful day and all I did was imbibe in a totally useless activity. I have no reason to justify this behavior. At this point in time, I believe that I am inflicting some kind of punishment upon myself. I have sentenced myself to some kind of penance until I can prove myself worthy. Worthy of what? Who knows? For now, it seems that I am punishing myself for being a penniless loser. I have no dough and I am significantly in debt. Therefore, I do not deserve to enjoy life. I have spent too much money on my getaways to the mainland which further requires punishment. My self-imposed "sentence" is to sit at home in solitary confinement and waste away in a drunken stupor. I have no other way to explain this peculiar behavior.

I talked with Caroll twice today. She does not appear to be in good spirits. I doubt that we did much to cheer each other up. Caroll has been depressed for a few weeks now because so many things have been going wrong. I am in a funk (as Steph would say) as well. In actuality, I believe that most of us are just damned lonely. We are at that juncture in life that seems to be the equivalent of the social doldrums. I know people who are equally lonely in relationships. Heck, I was one of them. Right now, even bad company would be okay.

I should be working on the business plan for the e-Commerce projects. However, I have no focus. I am unable to retain an attention span of longer than three seconds. The only subject that I can concentrate on for extended periods of time is babes. Maybe I should rename the "journal of the mind" to the "journal of the hand." That means I'll have another project to design. The Java Virtual Vaseline Jar. That could work hand-in-hand with the Java Chicken Choker. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaaaa!

The Heart is a Lonely Hunter

Loneliness is a real killer. It's like owning a digital cell phone that never rings. Say, that sounds familiar, doesn't it? I know right now that I'm damned lonely. I don't mind being alone but sometimes I'd rather not be alone. However, after my dissolution with the handmaiden, I was left with no options for company. The nine months that I spent out of circulation due to unemployment did little to help me make new friends. Even now, I have little in the way of options to pursue. The social circles in academia are stuffy and ego-centric. So, what shall I do?

In Convalescent City, I had a great time because I was a student at the time in graduate school. So, I met a lot of people. The gym was a fun place (with the exception of the "owner") because we had a solid group of people who worked out at the same time every day. Convalescent City is also a small town. It's easy to become friends with people because we saw each all the time. Oddly, The Master complained that he could not meet anybody there. Honolulu is not a big city but I seldom see the same people (except my students) on a given day, no less a given week.

Even though I am in a drunken stupor most of the time, I have realized that something has got to be done about this situation. I either have to go the route of The Master or I have to go for broke in the other direction. Currently, I am vacillating between the two options. As you can probably guess, I favor one over the other. It's much easier to be a monk insofar as risk is concerned. However, psychologically, it is a much more difficult route to sustain. So, here we are. Either I can be alone and weather the periods of loneliness. Or, I can go for broke and face serious rejection. Loneliness could be a relief in that case.

Seriously, the fire water consumption is a direct result of this whole situation. It's not a matter of the handmaiden, although I was extremely lonely after I was dumped by her. I have to sedate myself to negate the effects of loneliness. The fire water suppresses the depression as well as the biological responses. It's also killing me. Bruce offered me some Vallium. Maybe I should take him up on it. In retrospect, I believe that this whole issue has been unresolved for a long time. Even before the handmaiden's time. I have never been able to effectively deal with babes. I have never believed that I was deserving of a babe. The classic example is Clare, my old carpool buddy. Fifteen years younger than I, Clare was a true gym babe. Tall, long beautiful hair, and a Playmate's body, Clare was both gorgeous and intimidating to me. She was also a metallurgical engineering major. I knew I had to beat her to the punch. So, I rejected myself. After all the effort she put in, she had a right to be upset. And, she was upset. Needless to say, she stopped speaking to me for a while. I was relieved at first. Until I realized that I missed an opportunity. Not to score, mind you. Rather, I missed the opportunity to learn more about babes and perhaps establish what could have been a long-term relationship. Basically, I was a fool.

The humorous part is that I attributed it all to Clare's youth and characterized her as being a "loose cannon." She actually only became a "loose cannon" when she interpreted my distancing from her as a mind game. I feigned surprise that such a reaction would result from a harmless, platonic friendship. Of course, deep down inside I knew what was what. Even though I was older than Clare, I was intimidated by her. My old roommate Skip even tried to intervene. One night he called Clare up and told her that we were coming over to fix a broken hinge for her. She had hinted about it a few times. I took a bottle of the Hammer along and drank it to sedate myself. Fortunately, Skip was there. Had I indiscreetly gone there on my own and in a sober condition, I can just about tell you what the outcome would have been. If I had not been hammered, Skip would have probably left me there as well. My behavior was stupid. My reasoning was flawed. I was extremely attracted to Clare and I suppose she knew it. Instead of acting like a man, I was deliberately bumbling around like a schoolboy. All the while, I kept asking why a babe like Clare would be interested in an old loser. I never found out the answer. This situation has repeated itself several times and I have written about a few incidents in the journal. Right now, I'd gladly construct a Sphinx for Clare. Sheesh!

In the end, I also came to realize one other thing. I have met the most babes when I was a fun guy. I used to be a gregarious clown and I also used to party a lot. When I got hammered, I was an even funnier guy. When I went on the wagon, I learned how to still have fun without being hammered. So, I maintained my gregarious side. I don't know what happened after I met the handmaiden. I clammed up into an introvert again most likely because I was overshadowed by her assertive personality. I must rediscover my old self again. I must also learn that there may be some crazy babes who might be attracted to old losers. Then, maybe I can move on and I won't ever be lonely again.

Sunday August 1

Mitch (mitchata@gateway.net) sent some interesting feedback on my favorite subject of the moment:

Ham-Slammin' can only do so much. Men are biologically set to pass on DNA inside a uterus, the more the better. This is not sexist, it is a fact of the evolutionary stage we have been in for some 3 million years. Humans are in fact too intelligent for the evolutionary catharsis we are in; we have the Internet now, but our genes are still programmed to hunt mammoths and bison, and drag some comely cavewoman down and have our way with 'em. Women are programmed to gather berries and roots and cook the game. They are into breeding monogamously with the best hunter of the clan. This is why chicks go for in circa 1999 for the guy in the Corvette, the man in the 3 piece suit making $52 G's per annum hustling stocks. Money has taken the place of a brute dragging the deer home to eat. I am not a good hunter, and I drive a Honda. So I understand somewhat why the babes don't go for me from a scientific point of view. All of females obsessions about "love" are just silly histrionics. Women want a man of means with money and power; this is why most men crave money and power - babes. It is females, not males, that are meglamaniacs and gold lusting. men actually have much simpler needs and wants: Sex, our beer, sex, football, sex, our tools, sex, sex, and more sex.

Although I am not an evolutionist, I have to agree with the gist of what he had to say. Now I can also understand my passivity when it comes to babes. I have neither the power or dough to flash before their eyes. I am not a good hunter, and I drive a six-four.

Monday August 2

It is a new day. I vowed to stay off of the fire water during the week. This is Day One. I was still in a funk (as Steph would say) for most of the day. I happened to read Anonder's journal. It cheered me up, especially that crazy conversation at the cafŽ on July 12th with the old guy. Then, he mentioned to Helen that he may want to stay at a monastery for a few days. You know, I'm really beginning to see the value of Web journals. I'd rather read about everyday people than celebrities. I've been listening to my new Paul Hardcastle CD on my beloved computer. It actually doesn't sound bad on the one-inchers. I love my ESS Audio Rack. It looks like a real audio rack, too. Of course, I'd rather use my Bose Acoustic Wave. However, I have to unpack it whenever I want to use it because I'm a psycho.

I still have the burning desire to find a babe. I wish I could purge this foolishness out of myself. Maybe I should say something stupid to any random babe and have her call the cops on me. That should cure me, eh? Why do we need babes? I keep asking myself that every day. Why is it that, when I see a gorgeous babe, I start gurgling? What is bringing me to this level of debauchery? Do you see why I need to sedate myself?

Tuesday August 3

As it turned out, I jumped the gun. It's not the end of an era. It's the continuation of stupidity. I wanted a Manapua for lunch so I walked to my favorite Manapua shop. On the way, I ran into the handmaiden. I'm not sure why I am being taunted by the sinister kahuna. That is not a question even the great sages can answer.

I have relied on Anonder's journal to provide me with levity and also a kind of moral support, as it were, in the last few days. I understand that many people do not agree with his lifestyle or his world view. I have, on the other hand, come to a greater understanding about his position especially concerning babes. In reading some of his posted comments in response to his e-mail, I have come to a greater understanding about my own position in life. If I could approach the babe situation with true ambivalence, I would do better. However, my own biology and societal pressures have caused me to compromise my willpower to remain a monk. Even today, I have difficulty in embracing that lifestyle again. And, Anonder's assessment of the "game" is something I can further agree upon.

I am having the most difficult time coping with my biology. It is as if it has gone completely haywire. Either I am unusual for a guy or other guys have suppressed (most likely due to conformance to political correctness) it. Even when I saw the handmaiden today, I was overcome by the desire to do the wild thing with her. I cannot help the feeling. I see many babes who invoke the same feeling, yet I am not sufficiently compelled to do much about it. The opportunity costs are still too high. Here, too, Anonder addressed the issue by discussing the only alternative. Choking the chicken. I once had an academic discussion concerning this matter with Mike (who took the armadillo pictures) in Convalescent City. I was a good monk then. He argued that there was nothing like doing the wild thing with a babe. I said that choking the chicken could easily suffice if necessary. I was adamant about my position. Now I cannot say that I agree with my original thesis. Chicken choking is no substitute. There are other reasons why I am reversing my position, I presume.

Wednesday August 4

I met with Derrick this afternoon. He is a friend of Peter the bartender at Mango's. He works at an exotic dance club in Waikiki. We discussed a possible strategic alliance for one of the e-Commerce projects. Derrick has done a lot or work on the idea. He has even spent a considerable amount of time and dough checking out pay-per-view hurdy-gurdy sites. So, he had convincing paperwork. He also knows most of the babes at this particular club. I will now present my findings to the consortium.

When I went to the gym this afternoon, Latisha asked me for a picture ID (because of a new policy) along with my gym card. I joked around with her and could see that I was ready to cross the line into flirting. I felt foolish. What exactly was I trying to do? I've got to get a grip on this thing. And, what? Latisha is obviously in her early twenties. Man, I'm really losing it now. I need to re-read some of Anonder's philosophy concerning this matter. And, wasn't I beat up enough by the handmaiden?

Pops was supposed to get his test results today. Apparently, things are done a little different in Hilo so there will be a week delay because a specialist has to fly in from Honolulu. I suspect that pops is pretty upset because it is his life that is on the line. So, we have to wait one more week before we find out if pops is terminally ill.

I've been wondering if my synaptic functions have been affected by my diet. Let's see. I eat Whoppers (my way, of course!), 39-cent hamburgers at Mickey Dee's, 99-cent deep-fried chicken sandwiches at Burger King, and Manapuas. Of course, I have the fire water to wash it all down. Is this why I've been lusting over Latisha? It's the cholesterol, isn't it? That wreaks havoc on one's biology. I recall how much discipline I had when I only ate tuna and rice, and Bush's baked beans.

Thursday August 5

I talked with one of my students, Winona, today. She appears to know quite a few exotic dancers since she used to work at various clubs herself. So, we are establishing more possible connections for the dubious e-Commerce project. In a way, I feel that I been pulled into this world of debauchery because of the handmaiden. I don't know how far we'll get in this project since it will require some investment. And, I'm not sure if my mind will be able to take it once I see these babes. I could be reduced to a gurgling fool.

On a lighter note, I found an interesting article on MSN by Francine Prose titled "The Call of the Wild." Here's an excerpt:

It is embarrassing to fall victim to what seems so much — what is so much — like an adolescent crush. Adult passion, as we know, leads to consummation, but the essence of youthful yearning is the unattainable — longing for its own sake. And maybe that's the point of it: Some part of our natures prefers the romantic dream to the gritty reality and is more than half in love with the romance of self-denial.

The other thing we never outgrow is our need for attention from the opposite sex. And an affair of the heart is a complicated form of male or female attention. Even in the most companionable and passionate marriage, we do begin to take our spouse's interest for granted, and it's human nature to want to see if our magic still works in the outside world. Sexual attraction, romance — it's a sort of drug, and it's hard not to crave a rush of that energizing chemical — adrenaline? — that goes along with any affair, of the heart or the body.

I think that it tends to explain the inner urge that is at the heart of most break-ups today. Our consumerist attitude tend to further push us to consume and discard. I don't know about you, but I am not disposable.

Friday August 6

The dreaded weekend is upon us again. I'm not sure that I can take this anymore. I have discovered that airfares are dropping. Right now, the airfare to fly to Cali is over $160 less than I paid last month. I am considering flying out again. Penn, one of my former students, invited me over to an "apartment warming" party tomorrow in Waikiki. I may have to go just to do something new.

Yesterday, moms told me that I should fly to Hilo immediately to see pops. That was a complete reversal from her position just a few days ago. Moms now believes that pops is in bad shape. I told her that last week but she went off on some other tangent. I'm not going to fly over to see pops quite yet. He has not received a formal prognosis. However, I am prepared for when I must shuttle myself to the Big Island frequently. However, I am not prepared for the inevitable. I am not even close to healing with respect to the situation with the handmaiden and now this. My sanity is being taxed. I know that I really need an understanding babe at this point in my life but that is not to be.

Cherie, one of my students at the business college, has not spoken to me in three weeks. The situation is stupid. She is acting like a scorned babe. If I need that kind of treatment, I could just call up the handmaiden. This gives me more impetus to pursue the dubious e-Commerce project. Speaking of which, Bruce and I met today. He seemed apprehensive about the project because of the high initial investment. I can't say that I blame him. He is also uncertain about Derrick. The real problem is that we are getting caught up in the logistics. We could spend years perfecting the project model and optimizing our system requirements when we should just be putting the damned site up already. I have sent e-mail to the LA connection so I am waiting for a response. In the meantime, I'm investigating streaming media technology and visiting every possible Webcam site. Why can we never get anything going?

I have been doing so much talking about all kinds of crap that new opportunities may come about. I tried to pursue the math position and was offered a few classes to teach but I cannot do so at present. I am limited in the number of classes I can teach. A few other faculty have provided valuable input into the e-Commerce projects. Chad, another faculty, works for a weekly alternative newspaper. I expressed some interest in writing for the paper so I may pursue that avenue as well. As I become more confident and speak out, I open new doors. Maybe one day I'll finally get a life.

Saturday August 7

After spending all day in a drunken stupor and feeling sorry for myself, I decided to go to Barnes & Noble. It took forever to get a parking spot but I enjoyed the evening. When I arrived in the café, the usual babes were working there. I ordered a regular coffee instead of my usual decaf variety.

"Regular coffee? What's the occasion? You going out tonight?" Jamie asked me jokingly.

"Nah. I'm a loser," I replied, half-grinning.

"Don't say that," she said.

"It's true. I got dumped for a rich guy. I've got nowhere to go," I clarified.

"Hey, I got left for rich girls. Don't worry. It'll get better," she consoled. Jamie knows who I was referring to since the handmaiden and I used to come in together all the time on Wednesdays.

"Hey, I left a rich guy," the other babe interjected. We all laughed.

I shared a table with Joel, another guy playing with his computer. So, the place looked like nerd central. Frankly, I like it that way. Then, I don't feel like such a loser. I'll tell you, though. I am not faring well. I'm not sure if I am going to make it. My sanity is really being taxed. I am fuming over the fact that the handmaiden is having a great time and I am sitting around choking the chicken, as it were. The worst part is that I know Mercedes Boy is having the most awesome sex in his life. He will become a sex slave and love every minute of it. I should know.

Moms doesn't help my situation because she is continuing to hound me about visiting pops. I reiterated that I am not going to see him until I know what's what. Moms was perturbed that I was planning another Cali trip before thinking about going to Hilo to see pops. It is this kind of stupidity that just about pushes me over the edge. There is no way I can argue the point because logic and facts do not have much credence. All of this serves to remind me that I am in my mid-forties and I am being treated like a five-year-old. That does little for my self esteem. I can hear the handmaiden calling me a "momma's boy" in the back of my head. Real men don't live at home with moms. They have big bank, big house, and drive big cars (Mercedes).

I have re-read the [UJ] archives in the last two days. I believe that I must re-read it more often because I tend to lose my perspective of the whole situation. The last few months have been utter hell. I seem to keep forgetting that. What is interesting is that much of my analysis has turned out to be true. The predictions of the sages were right on target. And, some of my own prognostications were also proven true. As I sat and read all of that sickening stuff again, I wondered why I got hammered today. I should have been sober and happy. My time of reckoning is over.

Sunday August 8

Another fire water binge day. Did you say "Keystone Light"? Yep, that's what I've been drinking literally by the gallons. I forgot to mention that Paul (from Chaminade) stopped by Barnes & Noble last night while I was there. We talked briefly about the dubious e-Commerce project. I'm beginning to wonder if I am just talking to myself.

GrooveTech! What night I'm having! Let's check some e-mail. Mitch (mitchata@gateway.net) wrote:

Hope your father's tests come back benign. You certainly do not need a terminal illness in your esteemed family with all this crap with [the handmaiden] going on. But I am not dumb enough to tell you - "get over it, already!" From personal experience I know it takes a long time to get over a babe, and one just has to "ride the storm out" as that 70's Pop tune says. Men as a whole take failures in reciprocal 'love' a lot more severe than a woman does. Would be tickled to death if I could be macho and claim that I do not believe in love, because I would be one hairy faced liar. It happened to me once. Just that I do not think that it is really novel. I agree with the late author W. S. Burroughs that love is used as a Control mechanism by women over an individual male. Unrequited love oft spawns incredible hatred.

And Paul (from Seattle) wrote:

Why do you think [the handmaiden] is doing so great?  She is condemned to a life of the same thing over and over again. You on the other hand have the ability to learn from this and go on. Get your mind out of her bedroom. Go out and get laid.

I'd like to follow his advice but I don't think that Latisha will see things quite that way. Just kidding! As for the handmaiden she's a piece of work, isn't she? She must have perfected her wily ways. For the life of me, I can't figure how she bamboozled that rich idiot into giving it up. The dough, that is. I'm sure he didn't have a problem giving up his virginity. Speaking of which, I have decided that I'm a virgin again. You heard right. Aside from choking the chicken, I have never done the wild thing with any babes to the best of my recollection.

Monday August 9

I joined Kevin and Jennifer for lunch today. Kevin used to be faculty at the university. They are having a lot of problems with their respective jobs, mostly because that is the way it is here in Hawai'i for locals. Only the mainlanders are living high on the hog. Kevin and Jennifer realize this problem as they have spent time on the mainland. The damned locals are just too stupid to realize that have created the glass ceiling for themselves by refusing to take the initiative to lead themselves. It is the way we were raised. "Start from the bottom up," we were told. "Speak only when you are spoken to." What a crock of [dung].

I talked with Paul (from Seattle) tonight. He had some words of wisdom and a few anecdotes to share with me that further drove the point home about what I just discussed. Life is a matter of risks. The more risks, the more the possibility for gain. Or loss. However, you were privy to some of the axiomatic gems that were spoon-fed to me and other locals. That's why we are risk-aversive and we have made our own glass ceiling. It's not just a matter of careers. It's also about life in general. That explains why everyone in Hawai'i is sure that Amway and QuickStart will be their road to riches. That's also why Latisha isn't in my arms right now. Just kidding! I'm a virgin! I'm remaining a virgin for life. Maybe it's time for more nouveau poetry from your favorite poet (and his):

Take Your Hand

Take your hand and move it up and down.
[Copulating] bitch. Handmaiden to the sinister one.
My poor Vienna Sausage.
Look how small it's gotten. [Copulate] it!
Give me some Viagra, you fool!
Do I look like I want aspirin?
[Copulating] bitch made a chimp out of me.
Too bad. Poor Vienna Sausage.
Your time will come again.
With one more deserving.
In the meantime, take your hand ...

Man, do I have a knack for poetry or what? There have been some incredible babes at the gym. Even Latisha was working out today. I'd construct a Sphynx for her! Is this just some kind of cruel joke being played on the pumice head?

Tuesday August 10

Pops is supposed to start chemotherapy so the situation may not be that grim. I am, however, aware that I'm really just waiting around for my parents to pass on. I have no other purpose for being here at this time, and it is depressing. This really is a time that I needed someone special in life to stand at my side. However, the handmaiden was not the right person. I have no idea why I cannot just forget about her. There is absolutely nothing in the [UJ] archives that suggests she was worthy of my time. Ever since the incident at Cannon Beach, I was aware that the handmaiden was not the person whom I thought she was. I suppose I am convinced that I will never find anyone else. Highly possible. However, it is this detrimental mindset which locked me into the vortex of stupidity.

I made reservations to fly to Cali again at the end of the month but I may change my mind. I am losing track of what little friends I had up there. Most of my friends have their own lives to lead with families and what not. I am wasting my time and money at this point. I will only end up driving up and down the state in search of answers that I'll never find. And, these junkets do little in the way of helping me establish myself here in Hawai'i. I am essentially a nobody with nothing to offer anyone. People are no longer looking forward to my visits. I am more of a burden as I merely interfere with their lives. My real lot in life is to remain here and watch my parents become weak and pass on. It is my rite of passage into the lonely world of my own mortality. There will be no babe in my life. I already know this.

I am the Keeper of Lost Lives. Babes have only brought me heartache and sorrow. I cannot pay the price for the wrongs of faceless males from some past life. I am a guy. I act like a guy. I think like a guy. And, yeah, I love the wild thing. Am I a jerk because of that? Or, is it because I have no dough? One has to wonder. It is easier to resign oneself to the life of a monk. There is no "game." There is no need to flirt or impress. My manhood has been stripped down to that of an eunuch. The new dawn is in celibacy, my friends. Do I deserve more? I doubt it. What about Latisha? Oh man, that babe could make me easily break my vow of celibacy. I see that I am still weak. I need to sedate myself with more fire water ...

To be continued ... Go to R.7

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