All kinds of men…all minds of ken

This is d-day…done-day. Done with online dating services, and with the exception of meeting one man (next week) who contacted me two weeks ago, done with the random meetings with weirdos, desperados, wanna-be (online) freebie strippers, some want to screw, some want to view, some are dead and dying, others are live and crying. One rare bird actually has put himself together quite well during the four months I have known him by email, skype, cell phone, landline, and in the flesh…and yes, I do mean in the flesh. Zowie. I am finished with the curiosity period, honey. Sometimes I wonder why I needed that visual, that imprint on my mind and my sofa. I have utilized my sage and cedar from Taos a few times since returning from there. Finally unpacked suitcases from both Taos, NM and Salyer, CA…still have Port Ludlow, WA to finish.

Listening to Eliza Gilkyson. Interesting how I’ve become a listener to women singers…always prior to this have been a proponent of the guy thing.

So, out of the multiplicity of “men” with whom I’ve come into contact over 9 months (the first few were with one person mostly on emails) I have only two still in my life…wasn’t easy. One is an old friend, one is a new friend. Sat thinking the other day that I would not have enough art to do my January show in 2008. This online manhunt has proved to be a daunting task as well as a time consuming activity. I wanted to crawl into my studios and even knew what I wanted to do once there, but the computer had a stronger draw.

A friend suggested that this year be a retrospective. It should be easy enough to get most of the fabric pieces, but the clay is more widely spread geographically. My clay work has changed…especially after the class in Taos this summer. The decoration is striated and the glazes are obscure colors. My mindset when I get ready to work is less trancelike and more determined. I can’t listen to music or the tv in the background. I’m on my own with my devices. Must look for that black taffeta with the green hue that you can only see when the light hits it a certain way. I’ve seen three fabric pieces during my massages lately. I love those visuals.

Been gathering all sorts of red fabrics…talked last night with the person who commissioned a fabric piece for a newborn expected in January or February. He wants it done in reds. Fancy that! Must do one piece before that, though. The one done with old rowing shirts. Feeling the need to call my son. Going to do that, and will continue this later.

I was getting all euphoric about not being a voyeur any more. Now, I look forward to the art that will come out through me. I feel a happiness knowing that I haven’t been dragged down by the online bait. So many people have gotten lost there…from professors with Ph.D.s to unemployed bastards, from retired folks with nothing else to do but drink whiskey and take a few tokes to widowers wailing and renting their garments crying out to the universe and asking why…why…why…why did she leave me? Do they really believe what they write in those profiles? Or have they created monsters in their own minds…monsters who could never be. Perhaps they never thought that they would meet anyone like me. I wonder what I would think if I met me. Probably be a little frightened, a little confused, but curious enough to stay around and see what there was underneath that scalp full of hair.

The drama in my life will now be generated by me. I don’t have to go outside myself. I also realize that my current batch of “friends” will not be there for much longer. The puzzle is beginning to form. More pieces are falling into place. The final picture is far from apparent, but I love the process of finding out.

Later…

Enough with the frogs, already! Kissin’s done for now.

Incredulous…just amazing.  It is already September 19th…profuse apologies to those of you who keep in touch with me by reading my entries – my blog entries, that is.  Perhaps it would be a better read if you used my entries.  Ow-hever, as my ex used to say, this has been the summer of love without love.  I have kissed so many frogs since the beginning of the year my tongue is covered with warts — oh that would be toads, wouldn’t it!?  Ok…I have kissed a multitude of toads – not even up to the mark of frogs.  Why am I so gullible?  Why do I think that each person will be exactly who they say they are?  Are they even more deluded than I who accept what I see written as gospel truth?  This might get graphic, so be warned.  Obviously every last one of them has made up a story about who they are, what they want me to feel about them, and built up their own fantasies so that I will do the same.  It has worked………..until now.  After last Friday evening’s meeting with a wart-hog from hell, I woke up, brushed myself off, and resolved to reach down to the zipper area and give a good squeeze and twist as I leave these ruddy fellows so that their evening will indeed be memorable.  The chain smoking, false toothed, shaved-headed, left-earringed, loud-talker, sweaty, rough handed (in more ways than one), hard-bellied guy with Type II diabetes, high blood pressure, prostate issues, digestive ills and a mushroom in the bush (that’s being generous) had me buffaloed for a while.  It wasn’t until he turned to me after giving me a long diatribe about his mother’s death and his involvement in her care prior to her death (gave up so much of himself for her), with a tear in his eye, said, “Well, I guess there’s not going to be any sympathy sex tonight, eh?”  I just looked at him askance with a totally disinterested face in total disbelief.   Mind you the guy had one partial redeeming feature.  His tongue.  I have said this before and I’ll say it again.  A tongue can make up for a lot, but this little mushroom twirp had nothing else.  The kisses were soft and squishy — ok — but when he grabs your face and tilts it to the correct angle so that he can insert the tongue his favorite way, it gets kind of scary.  And you know, that was my last time getting intimate on the first go-round.  I’ve looked deeply into my past and now realize what causes me to do that.  If I hadn’t, though, I wouldn’t have known that the top of his bald head sweats profusely while he’s using doing his “she comes first” thing, and that I can hear parts of his lungs expanding and contracting when he’s sitting close.   I also am still in shock about the teeny tiny little bitty almost non-existant miniscule (thick but what is girth when there’s an inch of length?) whang dangger – as one of my other “men” calls it.  He even showed me how to do the excessive pinch thing to keep it up.  Keep what up?  Good grief.  I’ve since read that some guys like that get their jollies from the humiliation factor.  Enough about that a**bite.

And Mr. Washington state was scary as heck.  Won’t even go into that right now.

I’m getting ready for a hiatus on this effort.  Suffice it to say, none of the frogs or toads have turned into princes.  I meet with one more guy this weekend but this time in Davis, and am still writing (for a couple of days now) to a guy from way up north in California – one of the places I am considering for a future home.  We’ll see.  Now what I’m chuffed about is that I’m back in the pottery studio, and the results are totally different than before I went to Taos in July/August.  The experiential part of even touching the clay is different.  The way I glaze………….the way I put lines on the pots is different.  The designs are totally different.  I can’t yet get a handle on it, and feel that I’m being guided each time I go into the studio.  I love it.

I knew there would be changes, but didn’t know quite how drastic they would be.  Looking forward to working on fabric.  Just got some reddish fabric – always get something for myself when preparing to do another commission.  I will truly attach some photos eventually.  Yeah, right!

Later…