Monthly Archives: November 2018

Black Friday/Thanksgiving

21 Wednesday Nov 2018

Posted by in Civilization, Spirituality

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Why?

It’s about our money that we give to Wal Mart, Amazon, Target, Macy’s, the others. They, in turn, bought stuff, from the Chinese, among others. They spent vast fortunes to acquire these things. They recoup their outlay and a little something extra for their trouble, costs and profit. Thus the great cycle of commerce completes itself.

By now, the disassociation with the Christian Holy Day of the Solemnity of The Nativity is almost complete. The Santa Claus Myth prevails. It is childish, naive, uncomplicated, readily dispensible once the child reaches seven or eight, and readily grasped again once these children grow up to become parents or aunts or uncles themselves. Another cycle completes itself.

What is stifled by Black Friday is that modest holiday of gratitude, Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving isn’t particularly Christian; gratitude for God’s blessings is present in the Christian world view, but that “attitude of gratitude” is part of many other spiritual traditions. Just the idea of being quiet and humble and grateful requires not a grand display of agricultural abundance but a grateful heart. We need to be quietly thankful for that sophisticated society that connects us all and gets food to our tables. Acknowledging our interconnectedness forces us to drop our pretences of selfishness, self-sufficiency and independence. We get by in this world because we work with people we don’t particularly care for.

Humility, Quiet, Gratitude.

Another Car.

21 Wednesday Nov 2018

Posted by in Automobiles,

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It was time. One of the cars had 220,000 miles on it, the other 190,800.We were going just to see what was available and affordable in the way of used cars. We had an idea of what type of vehicle and what we wanted to spend. We stopped at one dealership, found a car perfect for our needs and budget. And bought it. End of story,

.

Short Erotic Interlude

20 Tuesday Nov 2018

Posted by in Erotic Writing, Sexuality

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NSFW For Grown-ups Only Please

She remembered the first time she ever knelt before a man, a boy really, and she felt his cock in her mouth, tasted its saltiness, her nostrils filled with the man odor.

Where was her dignity? Did she really love this guy? Or like this boy? Or even give a rat’s ass, one way or the other? What she knew is that he wanted this, this furtive fellatio before they joined her family at Thanksgiving Dinner.

And on her knees, beside her Daddy’s Buick Electra 225, in the chilly and oil-smelling garage as the rest of the family drank hot mulled cider and ate sausage balls, she realized her power. She, the one with a dick in her mouth, her nose tickled by boy pubes, was the one in charge.

If you want this, Suckah, you’re going to pay the price.

Pure Unapologetic Bragging

20 Tuesday Nov 2018

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This is my younger son. We had lunch the other day at our favorite Cubano restaurant Kuba Kuba Dos.

He ordered the coconut risotto cakes. We sat and talked about nothing important, but between my sons and me, every conversation is vital.

He talks of his work, his investing ideas, his dog, his cousin’s wedding plans, I tell him of the diabetes diagnosis, getting my flexibility back. Just stuff.

Who knew that just sitting with your adult children would be such fun?

Blurred Clear

19 Monday Nov 2018

Posted by in Erotic Writing

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NSFW Grown-ups Only

These images I take from the TV screen on rainy nights are fun.  I imagine a rainy night when lovers meet as a train arrives. He greets her, wearing a trench coat as if he were Bogey in Casablanca.  She, of course, is his Ingrid Bergmann, and she is perfect, because he wants her and she wants him. 

They go to his place to get warm,  with hot chocolate made from really good chocolate and not powdered cocoa. Before a log fire, they sip their chocolate between kisses. He slides his hand under her sweater, unclasps her bra, and her nipples almost immediately feel the teasing touch of the not quite too soft wool..

They enter the timeless giving of passion.

Blogosphere, My Happy Home

18 Sunday Nov 2018

Posted by in Relationships, Tolerance

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There are times when I feel closer to the people I have never met in the blogging world than I do to my friends, family, and acquaintances in real life. And I wonder, would my blogging friends really accept me if they knew me?

I am a Catholic, heterosexual, Republican, old, white male. To many people, in Orwellian Newspeak, that makes me “ungood”. Yet I have always reached out to people who were different from me.

Every word I used to describe myself is a superficiality. Yet we seem to be a world consumed and divided by those surface differences. I notice this when I watch real time pictures and video from around the world on YouTube. I have watched video from Russia, post Communism, and the people walking on the streets and playing on the beaches look no different from us. We could be in America, except the signs are in Russian.

We can have our differences as long as we promise not to kill each other. Is that so hard?

I read in the blogosphere of people in nonconforming, unconventional relationships. They seem to love their partners as much as I love my wife, in my typical, monogamous, male/female-paired marriage.

May be after the highly amped-up stupidity of the last two elections, I am all burnt out. These hills are ones I don’t want to die on.

Endorphin High Maybe?

17 Saturday Nov 2018

Posted by in Erotic Writing, Sexuality

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NSFW. MATURE THOUGHTS EXPRESSED

I am sitting here in my chair, feeling somewhat “high”

Lazy, lethargic, a little light-headed, wanting this feeling to stay.

I am a step away from sexual arousal

I want to share this feeling and also to feel bare skin against bare skin.

I want to stroke my lover’s labia, slide my fingers into her, as I press her clit with my thumb.

I want this floating out of time and body feeling to last.

No alcohol or drugs were used to bring about this euphoria,

Finding Purpose (Again)

17 Saturday Nov 2018

Posted by in alcoholism, Depression, Health Issues

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I grew up around drama. I grew up around people struggling with weight and weight related health issues. In 1968, Thanksgiving weekend, my mother’s brother, died of a stroke. He was only 45 and dangerously obese. He received a Purple Heart in WW Two and I suspect he was haunted by The War to the day he died. It just occurred to me that this is the 50th anniversary of his passing.

That was a very real bit of weight drama. My mother’s weight drama was ongoing. She would get serious about losing weight, then start jonesing for sweets. Eventually she developed heart disease and diabetes. She too had a stroke, but lived on another eighteen months afterwards before she died.

Her weight drama and her depression went hand in hand. There were tragedies galore in her family, her father’s alcoholism, her sister’s out of wedlock pregnancy, her father’s death from a cerebral hemorrhage. For a crazy woman, she did the best she could. Pure Christian Love prevailed over most of this.

But I came out warped, broken. I had a few missing pieces to my puzzle of mental health. The disease that is alcoholism affected me and I found recovery in the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous and its 12 Steps.

The other bit of drama is my rather casual attitude toward diet and exercise. I would lose weight, gain it back over the past 12 years, I would commit to a regular program of swimming, then my sense of hopelessness would take me out of the pool.

This all combined to give a general lack of purpose to my life. Until. This time when I found out I was diabetic, I embraced healthy habits with a passion.

Today, after learning we have to replace a vehicle, I was all worked up. I was about to blow off swimming today, but did not. And I had a good workout, the longest in almost ten weeks, 1750 meters.

It takes effort for me to live life as free of drama as possible. My mother’s craziness, her outbursts of anger live permanently in my memory. Thank God she never physically abused us. And she loved us, took care of us, and wanted us to grow up to be decent human beings. But the repercussions from her brokenness linger in me to this day.

So every carbohydrate I don’t eat is in honor of you Mom. Every lap I swim is for you. I want to be the healthy person, you could never quite be.

I choose to be a positive example,

One Day It May Be This Easy

16 Friday Nov 2018

Posted by in Erotic Writing

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He wanted that woman.

She wanted him.

It wasn’t just her body that intrigued him. Or the anchor tattoos, like Popeye’s, on her forearms.It was her whole demeanor. She would always touch his forearm when they chatted and once, as their conversation was a bit longer than usual, she absent-mindedly (or maybe not) stroked it slowly.

So after the meeting one day, he asked her to go with him for coffee.

“Coffee? No. Anything but that. You see, I am a barista. ”

So he countered with the only thing he could think of, frozen yogurt.

After they got their yogurt, he was tongue-tied. So he just blurted out, “I think you are the most attractive woman I have come across since…”

“Since when?”

“My wife left me for her massage therapist.”

“And that was when, last week?”

“Longer than that. Two.”

“Weeks?”

“No. Years.”

“Oh.”

“So do you want to go to the movies? Or something like that?” She directly asked.

“How about you come to my place. And watch The Maltese Falcon and Casablanca?”

“Sure. If I watch another live action comic book movie, I’ll puke. Just promise you will have parmesan cheese to shake on the popcorn. Oh, and one other thing, I will have sex on the first date, if the guy’s bathroom is clean and there’s no dirt under his fingernails.”

It’s just getting too easy.