A Pair of Diaphanous Tights

What is noteworthy to me is that my affection for my friend Debbie in spin class has me shying away from looking at her posterior which becomes quite visible through the diaphanous material that is her tights.   It makes me realize that I have no lust issue with her and that my admiration is not based on the male animal in me. I do like her, but not in the typical male fashion.  Maybe it is just my age, and marriage notwithstanding, but I am able to discern what might be a great bed partner to a woman whose feelings I have are more sibling like. In other words, I do not lust after her in my mind. It’s amusing because she is a beautiful woman but she does not engage my visceral sexual interest.  I like that a lot.

The Evil Men Do To Themselves

Men answer phones at home, drive, take out the garbage and take the lead in the bedroom.  What do women of today still want men to do?

Let’s take a check on what men still cannot do.  Men can still not exhibit the full range of emotions that women can do and still do.  So men are still restricted to emotional boundaries.  For example men are still not allowed to come apart at the seams when things don’t go right.  Most liberated heterosexual women still want their men to “man up” in situations women do not have to adhere to and can still feign as part of being exclusively female.  

It’s so amazing that we have to give up so much ground socially and economically but we have to hold up the antiquated archetype of masculine strength when women can simply fold their tents and cry.  It’s time for us to take a page out of the female bible of emotional independence.  Women have a virtual free pass on emotional expression.  Men do not and of course that is changing but not fast enough.  The double standard has to end and it has to end now.  The gender gap has narrowed considerably but only when it’s convenient and profitable monetarily and socially by our distaffed counterparts.  

It’s not just about emotion it’s also how we can ditch the competitive mind that we were forced to wear growing up and had drilled into our heads by our well intentioned parents. Competition leads to the dog eat dog world theory that creates the unnecessary stress that winds up killing us prematurely, and our call back to ashes. We have the power to change the competitive mind to the creative mind. It takes the world of scarcity and transforms it to a universe of abundance.  Men can become liberated and still hold doors open for women if they’re so inclined. By the way women still love that

The Power of Persuasion

When I take down the façade that is my open persona I can be just Jack. I am a man that has finally found his passion that’s outside the bedroom.  I have always wanted to be free of the stigma that I was eccentric but now I embrace it as part of the fact that it belongs with my charisma.  Charisma is seen in the eyes of the beholder, and it can be seen in a person’s wake after they’ve been someplace.  I have been blessed with the power of persuasion and at times it gets me in trouble because I underestimate its true power. Most of the time I just don’t give much credence to just how much gravity convincing words can be when added to intonation and passion.

It has taken me many places the power of persuasion, I have been to the basement to the penthouse and back again.  It seems to matter most when I am fighting for my life and the least when I’m on the elevator up.  That has to change both in intensity and perspective.

Eccentric and Charismatic

I opened an email from a peripherally close friend of mine last night and I was struck by his salutation and comment: Good night my eccentric and charismatic friend. I thought for a moment and realized this was not throw away dialogue. He has known me for over 15 years and has observed and interacted with me on a deeply consistent basis and he knows all too well my strengths and frailties.  

Eccentric and charismatic, these two words more than most, if one was restricted to two words to describe me, probably embody my personality better than any other two words chosen with exacting care.  Charisma, I have always thought I was blessed with that gift, but just like the word deserve, I am hesitant to use that semantic when I am describing myself. I would prefer to leave that assessment to come from the mouths of significant others that know me more intimately.

Growing up I always thought of myself as shy and withdrawn, but by the 5th grade whenever I danced the twist, I had a huge circle around me, taking in my translation of the dance craze that had swept the nation.  The ability to ‘dance’ must have been inherited from my maternal grandfather, because his nickname was ‘crazy legs’. This secret charisma did not appear in my consciousness again until I was 30 years old and could be found dancing the night away at my favorite disco haunts, where I put on my one man show on a parquet dance floor.  Dance was the lead in that gave me the present day ability to speak to virtually any stranger in proximity. Instinctively I can enter a person’s world and can engage them in short and lasting confabs as if they were scripted from a handcrafted teleplay. That in essence displays my charisma, except maybe for the energy I bring to the proceedings in any group exercise or at least if I am to believe what I am told by many. 

The word eccentric however, is a much more esoteric but nonetheless deeply embedded character trait that runs like an estuary in my circulation. Not something I was readily admitting to myself let alone anyone else. However, as I examine the statement my friend made, I have to admit that it is true. For example, I rarely keep my head where my feet are. That was a phrase I often heard in AA but ignored and continue to ignore no matter how much overt attention I pay to it. The word eccentric by definition says that when it comes to a character trait, it means that a person engages in odd and unconventional behavior. Was there ever a definition that suited me better than that description? I don’t think so!  I tend to over think most situations and lend my idiosyncratic thought process to others that never have an inkling to what my mind can conjure up. Eccentric means that I never know where I put things. Some might say that is merely forgetful. Oh no. Why it is eccentric is because no matter how many times I misplace things, and admonish myself about it, I continue to do the same thing expecting different results. This is also a definition of insanity, but I don’t think I have crossed that threshold not yet anyway. I make plans on my social calendar and forget the ones I have made on my business calendar. I cannot seem reconcile that time is time, whether I am engaged in fun or trying to make a living. Eccentric is also what gives me the ability to be charismatic because if I didn’t stand out I wouldn’t be eccentric and vice versa.  

My friend said a mouthful, my eccentric charismatic friend. Thank you M.F. 

Geographic Footsteps

Geographic footsteps, a new age phrase if I have ever heard one. This one has been adopted by the financial services industry as verbiage that is supposed to be cerebrally catchy. It simply means that the world has lost it’s borders between nations and the  demarcation lines have been erased except for the nationalistic ones that exist in our own individual pride.

Crackberry

In the instantaneous world of the 21st century, I can see and speak to someone clear across the globe with the clarity that is only to be surpassed by their physical presence next to me. In a 1948 movie entitled: Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein, Lon ChaneyJr., says to the operator that: I know how long it takes for a phone call to reach from London to the States, but please hurry! Would we even sit still for millisecond if someone told us that now.  In a movie from 1984: Starman, starring Charles Martin Smith he is heard to  say to his government superior, that we are the ancients when it comes to technology. I think of the progress technologically we have made in the sixties, seventies and eighties, only to see it double and triple over the last two decades.  

Point being? There are times that the wizardry cripples us. A great deal of the population is now codependent on their 4G phone. It is apparent everywhere you go. I see people walking and eyes glued to their 4 inch screens and letting the real world take the back seat as if it didn’t provide them excitement enough. Then as people have taken cell phone use to an even more dangerous level, texting, technology and it’s instant gratification has threatened the lives maybe as much as DWI has. I don’t know that for sure but the figures will become alarming when the studies are completed. 

I too have succumbed to the phone with every application, sans shoe horn and back scratcher and I want to admit openly that my will is as weak as most of America. I should not limit this phenomena to the U.S. either as a British friend of mine says that the English refer to their Blackberry’s as a “Crackberry’s.” 

Another drawback is just how rude we have become in the company of strangers when we are talking or texting to our inner circle. Just last night I was at a very boring seminar with an equally inept speaker when I spied about 1/4 of the audience thumb typing on their phones. I wonder if it was just because the speaker was boring, or how they were wishing they were someplace else. 

TBC

The Handwritten Letter

The handwritten letter might need explaining because it’s rarely if ever used. Simply it means a sheet of paper that has writing on it made by ink being pressed out of a pen or pencil containing words intended for one or more but relatively few persons.  It is a letter that has an envelope that is not pre printed and does not have prepaid postage marks. It has instead a real stamp that was personally licked with someone’s saliva and stuck onto the top right hand corner.  

When a hand written letter comes to me, it’s the first thing I open because it wasn’t mass produced and it required thought on behalf of another individual who was thinking about me specifically. The hand written letter like hen’s teeth is indeed a rare commodity. 

Flash

The news in America is a variety show, the only thing missing is the laugh track and applause. The kind of drivel that the networks pass off as news should be a crime, but since we have access to the BBC news, all is forgiven.  Every night the networks interrupt our favorite show with endless snippets about how bad the weather is going to be or how they can scare us about something that affects one person in the audience. 

Just tonight we were ‘exposed’ to a story about how certain bras made women sick and the impending law suit by the parasitical law firms.  Leave it to American ingenuity to try to make something serious about the obfuscation of mammary glands. 

e mail (Electronic Mail)

Electronic mail, the high priestess of 21st century communications leaves a lot to be desired as even the most ardent of devotees of it might agree. One characteristic about it that I find particularly disturbing is that it carries with it a degree of arrogance by the sender. It’s as if e-mail is universal and taken for granted that everyone uses it doesn’t matter if you like it or not. Phrases like: “Didn’t you get my e-mail” abound especially in the workplace as it seems to have replaced good old tried and true face to face communiqués. What it has done to the written word however cannot begin to be calculated. Once regarded as a wonder of man’s invention it now has become it’s own bureaucracy. Yes of course it’s more efficient in the world of multi-tasking but how far do we go in depersonalizing our own existence? When we go to our mailbox at the end of the drive or in the downstairs hallway we know instinctively how to separate junk mail from the items that we must pay heed to. Now however our being able to discern what is truth and what is fiction has taken a scurrilous turn.

When was the last time you sat down and actually wrote a letter to someone just out of your automobiles capabilities? I would venture to say it might be a long time. Oh I guess you still might send a card with your John Hancock for someone’s birthday but outside of that we seem to prefer touching others electronically which is totally devoid of human emotion. Yes we can add some new age anagrams and smiley’s but even those attachments are no more intimate than the greetings we exchange with familiar faces.

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The Narrow Path

Why a narrow path?  Should I not widen my sweep as middle age becomes my old man? No, I must avoid that and not be afraid to walk off the concrete and feel the earth soft under my feet. Therein lies the rub. The more I stay on path, the more set in my ways I become like my father before me. And that I will avoid at all costs, except to drink again.  But, off the path where new experiences lie, which I have always loved, the more fear I will feel because I love the thought of change but the uncertainty of the affect it will have on me plays havoc with my peace of mind. Now it leads me to another topic for another day, what is peace of mind?

Maps

Once you have travelled all over the emotional map there comes a time when a man has to narrow not only his focus but his relational sphere as well. Mine were always like a shotgun blast wounding many with plenty of bloodletting, but I was never responsible for mortal wounds (or so I think) because after I left physically there would still be an emotional string that I couldn’t let go of. This never wanting to say goodbye left women in my life with books still open, they wanting closure, me wanting God knows what.  I think that it was the feeling that they would never forget me.  Now I have let go of all of them except for those that remain immediate in my life. I feel like the surfer who has ridden many waves and finally decides he must sit astride and let even the most attractive swell pass me by. I can enjoy the short journey as if I did take off on it. I know what the ride will be like, thrilling but I can say, I have been there done that. 

Rant II

I was headed into the Yankee game last night and took the LIRR (Long Island Railroad) because I had lost the patience driving, having to navigate the Major Deegan Expressway.  Most of those trips took nearly 3 hours one way, and the drive, which features trucks driving in the left lane, (which irks the hell out of me) has been put to bed at least for the foreseeable future.  But that’s not what I wanted to talk about. 

Taking the train has it’s amenities even though the trip on the LIRR hasn’t changed much in terms of speed, for at least the last 40 years or so, which in itself is laughable when a Communist country like China has trains that travel at 140 mph or in excess of 200 Kilometers per hour. They still punch tickets which absolutely makes no sense living in the digital world we do, with respect to those that make their living doing so. Okay what’s your point?

Ever since some unfortunate riders have injured themselves not “minding the gap” between the train and the platform we have to incessantly listen, (at every station stop) a recording of this warning. Not satisfied with the approximately 15 warnings, we also have to listen to the conductors chime in with this same information. What, we didn’t hear the recording? Enough already, we get it. We don’t need the videos on the TV’s either of a hip hop recording while we sit in the station. Shut up already.

 Where are those recordings to drivers to signal when changing lanes? We never hear that warning. How many more accidents and lives would that save? How many times have we been on the road and watched the sloths who don’t signal or burst out from one lane to the other? I never hear anyone trumpeting this AVISO.  There is no public service program like  this, but we have to hear “mind the gap” a million times. Or that recording that’s on the escalator of that woman who actually tries to play with voice inflection to get our attention. Last night I listened and the escalator was broken. But ho, not the recording. “Look around, be careful." SHUT UP! The same recording has been  playing for ten years.  Why not a recording for escalator riders who do not walk up the escalator, to stay to the right so that those who are moving quickly, a chance to walk and "escalate". This is common practice in England. They seem to have a more considerate nature than those of us here in the States. 

What is it with these warning programs? Who is in charge of these public service programs?  These are well  intentioned, but  American society concentrates way too much on events that hit the newspapers and have public outcry. These programs that affect the very few and are blasted at the public at large, are a waste of taxpayer dolllars that could be better served spent on those that affect the masses, like signal when changing lanes. Oh and those smokers that flick their smoked butts into the street, should be required to sweep a street beginning to end as their public service requirement. 

My New Friend

This past Friday I found myself in the company of Indians. No, not the ones mistaken for Native Americans (of which I am one of) the real version, from India.  The invitation came from a man that I have gotten to know over the past year or so. I watched him performing yoga poses at the gym I frequent. I cannot for the life of me remember what started our communion but as time went by our serendipitous meetings always left me with a deep inspiration that would stay with me for days at a time. It never occurred to me that I would leave an impression with him. When I found that he was going through some emotional upset I started to get to know that this man was not just someone who entered my life to enhance my afflatus. He was a man of substance and breadth to be sure, but I also observed a deeply sensitive human being that took nothing in his life for granted, and when a life disappeared near him he took personal responsibility as if it was one of his own. It was a truly remarkable introspective that is so rare to observe, and he let me be apart of, which was extremely personal. I learned a lot about him and a lot about how it is to revere the life we are given. I have always tried to remain grateful for all the things the Almighty has bestowed on me but my burgeoning relationship with this man helped me see through the lens of authenticity. I have been praying that I bring a congruent heart and mind.  

   I have never before been in a social situation with a group of ethnic people that are so connected to each other in their heritage and yet are so open to those outside their ethnicity. It was truly a singular experience from the first moment until the last goodbye.  The way I was embraced was totally unexpected and I was welcomed with open minds and this was just my feeling, open hearts as well. There really was no secret to it I imagined because if I was welcome in this home I must have crossed a threshold that is    not handed out like tissue after a sneeze. 

My First Impression

There are days when my heart breaks but beats at a normal rate. I have long known that I am a hypersensitive man in an insensitive world where there are people that send mixed messages depending on which side of the bed they wake up on.  I try to give everyone the benefit of any doubt even when my first experiences with them are less than auspicious. So many times I have been wrong in taking this stance and disappointed in the process.  My latest debacle I was complicit in and I do tend to push the envelope, but the other individual in this affair is inconsistent in their attitude on a day to day basis. I promise I won’t make this mistake again. What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger and this affirms in my mind that no one gets my respect until they prove themselves first not the other way around.

I will stick with my first impressions because they are usually right and when people that are close to me tell me someone is inauthentic I am going to listen with ears wide open.  I have failed to take my own advice on too many occasions and this last episode will be my last I can promise myself that. 

The Invisible Craft

When I sit down before this window screen, there are no tools, no pre fabricated pieces other than a title that may have descended on me from the heavens. I liken the invisible craft to a precious gift that has been bestowed on me. I have ceased even wondering if this gift will stay with me or leave like an approaching cold front. For now it is here, and I will peck and pound for as long as the outer world chooses to speak through me. 

Radio waves are invisible, and yet through verbiage of the spoken word millions of us are entertained by particles of energy perfectly formed in one place and then dispersed unrecognizable into space and then reassembled into their original form as if by a magical incantation only Merlin could produce.  The invisible craft starts out that way and makes it to our inner voices via paper and ink  

The invisible craft has more power than a locomotive and Superman because the rippling effects cannot be measured by any conventional means known to man.  Horse power, candle power and amperage are conventional barometers that can give us a sense of the force of things in the observable physical plane, but the invisible craft has no calibration only a vibration for those that have their window of perception open.  Sadly because of sensory deprivation we miss a great percentage of transmissions that unfortunately are not contained as a text message. 

Snap Judgment

Snap judgments are great when you’re stepping off the curb and an oncoming bus says get back on the sidewalk. The ideas that snap judgments are natural from a scientific perspective are most certainly true. However, since they are born from the seeds of cynicism, skepticism and pure doubt the plant is dead on arrival before the flower can bloom. When we see someone that does not fit our expectation or pattern of acceptability, we reject that individual without any shred of tangible evidence. We make the judgment from their countenance or from the fabric of their clothes.

We have been ingrained with strobe like indoctrination that ‘different’ when it comes to a member of society trying to rise up gets shot down before they can even open their mouth where the face of their soul lives. When our society sees a minority with a history of betrayal and prejudice, we are certainly there to over react if necessary to see they get a fair and equitable chance at life. That same reaction when that outcast tries to claim equality without any help from us, we shun them naturally.
From the New York Times article, the idea that we create exclusion because it is “inherent in the mind”, is true just like a tomato left in the refrigerator for a month turns rotten. The modern world indeed has increased its collective awareness of prejudices and the road to pre conceived impressions are well on their way to eventual banishment to Coventry. But when it comes down to appearance prejudice lives and feeds like the fatted calf because no one has picked up the mantle that grey hair and a little extra girth around the middle can allow entry into the land of the beautiful and revered especially when it comes to the entertainment world.
When Simon Cowell and his panel of judges and Britain Has Talent audience were panned the same wordless face said, “yeah right”. Prejudice lives. It is just hiding under a different rock, the one of snap judgment. Looks do matter has as much value as the dollar bill because someone says it has value. It has no backing only because someone says so is how we navigate our world. Looks do matter especially when you’re the one looking in the mirror and measuring us with society’s yardstick. We can never “measure up” because there is always someone prettier, more handsome, stronger or more provocative. When the light goes on in the kitchen, the roaches scatter and disperse but it doesn’t mean that the coast is clear and we can keep on believing we can hold onto that prejudice just because we cannot define it ethnically, by race, creed or sexual persuasion. We have to let go of all prejudice lest we halt our journey of total acceptance of those different than us. The idea that it’s ‘okay’ to react with pre judgment would have kept the sitting president out of office and Sean Penn from winning an Academy Award. But wait, that’s different! No my friend, it’s not different, it’s the same thing with a different mask, and I just checked the calendar, it’s not Halloween.

Left on Red

Have you observed this phenomenon? I have many times and there’s seems to be an element of entitlement to the practice. I say practice because you will see it explained away for several reasons. Some might be considered legitimate in the eyes of the risk taker because they are the last on line awaiting the turning arrow, and they just don’t want to endure another interval until their turn comes up again. Then there is the no left turning signal scenario where the driver has to wait for the oncoming traffic to open up to make their left.  When the light turns red, they scoot against the signal as the oncoming traffic has stopped, but it has turned green in the other direction. Today I experienced it with a tractor trailer, because he made his left when the light was clearly green for me. Annoying if you are on the other end of it.  The last reason is can occur when one of the cars with the green arrow is texting or just not paying attention to the light change. This can be the most dangerous when the second car truncates their turn and makes the left in front of the car ahead. A most aggressive practice to be sure and one that can result in an accident as the car in front wakes up or the car in the other direction accelerates once the light turns green for them.  

Left on red. It is an indicator that we are just too much in a rush to go nowhere, because a minute or two added to our schedule is not worth the risk of death. 

The Pen Dictates I Write

The trouble that begins when the summer ends is simply that the days of the sun are shorter and shorter.  What does amaze me after so many of these hot spells that come and go, is that I never tire of them. It continues to mark the ever approaching day of my demise, however as I welcome each new day, they never seems to be without a new challenge or a new opportunity to feel more self esteem than ever before.  

My self esteem is dependent on what I think not what others think.  In the past I would let the dictation of others scribe on my wall what exactly went on when I read my own mind. The penmanship of those I held in the least regard assigned my self worth when I opened my eyes. It is in my dreams I see the brilliance the shadow people used to occlude. No longer will I be pushed about no matter what footprints another man leaves in my path, because it is always in my shoes they can never walk.  

The Compact Mirror

I love listening to these young women in front of me in the next seat as they spout their logic about how to drink and how their friends don’t know how to drink. Amazing how their limited sight distance is a continuum in their minds.  Their friendship is based on how much  they agree with each other.  There is nothing cerebral that they are exchanging only what their five senses are telling them. The guide dog inside themselves is purely visceral, it has no empathic connection to the world at large. They can only see what the loom of the light before them reveals. And their compact mirror gives them the license to paint whatever image they choose. 

Rant

Can I please stop hearing about “the gap” between the train and the platform please? Also please shut off those voices that tell us how to navigate an escalator. The same track has been playing for ten years in Penn Station, we got it okay?  What about the warnings on commercials about “Don’t try this or the latest one about two guys riding their RV’s on sand covered hills and having us being told that it was an approved riding  area. Who is this for some zealot with an agenda? American advertisers focus on the lamest of details. And speaking of advertisers, will you please stop telling us in every car commercial that it’s an EVENT?  It’s not an event, it’s a sale that’s it. Also stop with the word introducing, a car is not a person.  And you lease guys stop with the stupid monthly price that you back into by playing with the down payment. Such nonsense. 199 a month with 4,000 dollars down. Are we that dumb? Or is it that you are?  Moreover stop using 99 when pricing something. Advertisers should have to use numbers no higher than 5. Just like gas prices that have persisted in measuring prices  in mills. There is no such thing as 9 tenths of a penny. We are not in colonial times anymore.  Here’s one, how about we start a serious campaign by telling people to signal when changing lanes? Yes, signal when changing lanes and let’s make it clear that buses (any type bus even those sawed off ones) and trucks do not belong on the parkway. Also you truck drivers have you forgot that you are not to drive in the left lane? What’s the matter DTI forgot that one? Stepping off my soapbox. 

Wake Up Jack My Boy

Today’s inspiration comes from someone I have never spoken to only read. I will leave it at that.  She says that our assets are also our defects. So true, because our healthiest habits  can be our own undoing. I think of the spinning obsession I currently am driven by, because it has had the positive effect of my losing weight, lowering my blood pressure (100/70) and relieving my knee and lower back pain. All seemingly glorious facets of better health. However, the same can be held that I am neglecting my work, focused too much on writing that pays no stipend and is keeping me isolated in the gregarious lifestyle I exhibit to the world at large. Today was a great example, I was going to spin at the expense of being late at an interview with a firm that is determined to have my professional services, yet I was readily prepared to be late on a fallacious excuse that I was running late on a previous appointment. 

It was indeed a close friend that said simply, not only did I not have to spin but that I couldn’t spin.  Thank you for my reality check. I was erroneously hitching my wagon to a star that has not shown itself from behind the clouds yet. I know the brilliance is there but I am not going to clear the sky just so he can appear in the heavens. 

The Maiden Name

You know whenever I heard someone with three names and she was a woman I wondered if she was doing her impression of Women’s Liberation.  That’s fine, women want to hold onto their identity and not merge into the man they marry, I understand that, well hardly. But, I am an old school guy from the 20th Century and I just never got it with this maiden name and married name on the same bill.  After all that maiden name is her father’s name also  a man’s name,  so there really is no escape ladies sorry.  A little off track Jack? And maybe I have alienated some of you women but let me say this my two stepdaughters both successful in business had no problem switching their name to their spouse's family name. Even in my spell check they don’t want me to get gender specific. Phooey. 

Overwhelm

I am not used to being in the overwhelm state as so many of my friends and acquaintances have shared with me. I liken it to shin splints I didn’t have a clue what they were like until I was inflicted with them, and then I knew the feeling intimately as no book could describe.

Taking psychology online has intimated this “state of being” as part of the human condition and I just thought it was just psychobabble or worse yet an invention of the mind of liberals that had to have an explanation of every feeling real or imagined. I still think that it is not a real condition and that it is indeed a manufactured malady but it does seem to move me to a degree of paralysis. However, I think I have found the cure. It is simply a matter of asking myself questions as to what it is that is keeping me up at night or in the pre dawn hours the werewolves gathering at my bed chamber.
Today I enumerated two things that are on my mind and with that revelatory admission my suspended animation of fear if you will was brought down to the size of a very small monster that I can leash and if not tame then take the legs out from underneath it so as to make it immobile.
Overwhelm, one might even revel in its charm like it was a legal excuse to be pardoned for inactivity, procrastination and sloth. Although I don’t think the pharmacology industry has invented a pill for such a condition although I may be wrong on that account. If you just mention it in mixed company you will get nods of recognition of those that have felt this way even though the condition for each individual must have had different affects on their psyche.
Although as a sober man this state is conquerable simply by putting one foot in front of the other. No guarantee of results but the deleterious affects of foreboding will disappear.

Shut It Down

Again this week I found myself  in the 45 minute version of Mr. Mayhem and we were treated to another rendition of the  ringmaster calling his last class for the next week as he is headed to compete in  the Iron Man at Lake Placid Sunday the 25th. It was  but 4 years ago Tripp was tipping the scales at 270 lbs. Quite a feat in terms of weight loss and more extraordinary as this competition  is comprised of 2.4 miles in the water, 112 miles on the bike and the classic 26.2 marathon distance on foot. Is that material for a book or what?  There is much more about Mr. Incandescent we would love to know and when he catches his breath after this competition I will sit down with him and get some newspaper copy for all of us to sink our teeth into. 

To a near packed house in the noon hour you can just feel the ground swell I was talking about yesterday starting to cascade over the membership at Equinox. Make no mistake about it Tripp has a following that we are only beginning to discover. When I ask my other cycle mates about who they spin with and when  Tripp’s name comes up, a big smile creases their face. And if by chance they haven’t, I give them a bagful of superlatives to urge them to sample this motion picture with the ever changing script. 

I swear that I am more soaked after this class than any other. Maybe it’s just the hot weather but in  the pool beneath my bike, I could do a jack knife into by mid session. The music was eclectic and seemed to fit my ear preferences as it reached back into the early 80’s and when he finished with Enigma for the cool down I could hardly believe our time was over. At the bottom of this post is the link for the Iron Man in case you want to follow the exploits of our hero this Sunday. 

Iron Man: http://www.ironmanlakeplacid.com/

Compassion

A question was asked of me and here is how I responded:

As a stepdad, what's your view on your role and responsibilities with respect to your step-kids? How does this relate to the roles and responsibilities their mother and father have?

This question is a great one because it touches on boundaries and areas of step parenting that are just not spoken about. My role is clearly defined in that I have to be a reserve player on my wife's bench. By that I mean I do not start out making the family agenda and for some men this is not an easy role to be relegated to. Their male bravado wants to speak out and take at least a modicum of control. In the beginning it seems we are just there in the background and not expected to say to much. The kids are courteous at first not wanting to ruffle feathers if they are well behaved and that has been my experience, so I cannot answer when the family dynamic might be more of a acrimonious one.

My responsibility is to act responsible. What that means is that when I have an opinion I talk about it with my wife first. No matter how strongly I feel. And when I discuss a situation or a topic with her I filter out my emotions and appeal to her sense of reason and I do not rely or abuse the love she has for me. Because that tactic places her in the middle always a no win scenario. She wants to make me happy and at the same time her love for her children is unconditional and unbreakable. There might be quite an interval before she puts your happiness on a par with her offspring.

I cannot be responsible for what I think the biological parents roles should be. I can only hope that I do not exacerbate their tenuous position of having their children in my care. I have to respect that there is a degree of trust by default for the father not being present on a day to day basis. I without instruction have a duty to care for children that are not my own so I have to hold myself to a higher standard that has to be beyond reproach and avoid negative scrutiny at all costs. I need not add to the broken family's wounds by trying to enhance my position at the expense of any of my blended family.

My responsibility is not to view my role as a saviour because that is a thankless role and only invites disappointment because there is no way that I can live up to what that role entails because being human I will fail and a saviour winds up on the cross eventually.

Fish Tales

Did you ever meet a fish that flipped flopped more in the water than out? I did. She changed her mind more times than a cat on a hot tin roof. She was attractive, smart and had the vocabulary of someone that had a PhD. Well I could never pay too much attention to her fishy ways but when she decided to check up on me, well that was the straw the broke the camel's back. And it took that fish out of the water on a permanent basis.  

Bears and Wolves

On the edge of a new light outside the tunnel. I have the unconscious fear of insecurity, but this is not intuition only the vestiges of the wolves of procrastination that have my attention while my innate confidence sleeps the bears hibernation. All it takes is one step at a time and my footwork still works I merely have to put one foot in front of the other.

The success of one step I must refrain from admiring too long, else the next step become paralyzed like the first. Goal setting sometimes seems very droll but the payoff of the freedom of the mind is invaluable.  

No not the Zoo variety, the sexual version.  I am fully cognizant that the “art” has been lost in the rush to the bed.  In my youth since we could not avail ourselves in most cases of the mattress we sought the satisfaction that our hands could offer in the absence of the excitement of what copulation would bring.

 

I always heard from my mom and dad that they reserved their consummation for the marital bed. Although my father did admit to ejaculating in the back seat of the car with the help of my mothers right hand. But even those revelations held no solace as I was after the ultimate prize, the peak sensation as only intercourse could avail me of but I often got the simple release of the reliable “hand job” from some of my pubescent lovers.

 

If I can recall the first time it might be better to refresh with the very first time my genitals got involved outside my pants. It was a summer evening as I recall and in a parked car away as far as possible from the streetlight, in the back seat with not one but two 13-year-old girls who were quite curious to see and touch my nether regions, as they were perfectly willing to reciprocate in the viewing and touching of theirs as well. 

 

That turned out to be an episode that I remember on occasion in my life until this day.  I often wonder what would have transpired if they went beyond simply caressing my erection and me giving them their first intercourse of the digital variety, that we affectionately called “getting fingered”.  There never were enough of any preparatory accoutrements like tissues or towels to cleanup afterward because; well that might have seemed too orchestrated and we wanted to make believe that was not what we were after on those warm mid summer nights. 

 

But I am getting ahead of myself here. We were talking about the lost art of petting. As stated there seems to be a rush to the bedroom to copulate but my fondness is necking and petting. What is petting anyway?  I think of it as a layered approach. There is the preliminary “feels” around the shoulder and sides of the back.  In the backseat of a car or in a movie theater, which really revealed how willing my female companion wanted to be “felt up” that is, to have her breasts caressed. I would put my arm around her and as my hand drifted slowly down her arm if she wanted more she would lift her arm to expose the side of her breast. That meant the waters of resistance were parted, and my hand felt the fullness of her budding mammary.  If we were in the back seat of the car the necking provided the entire ardor I needed from her to have a free rein over her topography.  I can remember one female actually taking my hand and placing it on her breast because I was beating around the proverbial bush.  Once however the petting above the blouse was achieved, the flesh was yet to come. In the middle of a long French kiss I would start to unbutton the blouse button by button. I would wait for the first lock to open before proceeding on to the next and next but usually her chest cavity would open signaling me to venture on.  Once that blouse was opened the obligatory feels over the bra were made including a heavier squeeze to take in the complete fullness of her buds.  If she was adventurous she would interrupt our kiss and reach back and unhook so as to unbound them.  A deep sigh from me usually ensued as I lifted the cup and felt her fleshy globes and by the time I arrived at her nipples they were erect and inviting my mouth. 

 

That was getting to third base and when I tried to steal home too soon I usually got tagged out trying to unzip her slacks or if she was wearing a skirt a firm hand mid thigh stopped my travelling hand.  But if her legs parted it was a signal that I go a little slower and give her inner thighs enough flame to proceed up the trellis to her Mons pubis.  I might go back to her breasts to reignite her breathing all the while engaging in the best kiss my French skills could offer.

 

Sometimes I would leave the next stage for another time just to prove I left something on the table and give my young lover time to think about what happened in the heat of our moment.  It was risky but I would rather have complete assent than risk not seeing her again.  

 

Music in a Coma

The popular music of today I cannot seem to connect with.  There are some songs that catch my attention but for the most part there is no visceral connection between my solar plexus and my ears.

Years ago I held music in a higher esteem than I do now because today it either lacks the fundamental elements of style, percussion and syncopation because my brain cannot engage with it.  I think it’s not about age or time of life because I listened to the most varied music available from industrial, punk rock, adult contemporary to get this country music. I would not be able to classify what is happening now. Hip-hop does not draw me in, for the most part because in my opinion it is not music but rather urban prose.  Expression yes, music no. I might draw some fire for that statement but when lyrics that rhyme are put together merely because they rhyme it is not music to me. It’s like an anagram that is spelled first and the words are configured to fit the anagram not the reverse.  Take SCUBA for instance it is a word by itself but not many know what it stands for.  In that case it just so happened a pronounceable word came about.  Today rhyming is from the head not the heart. 

I also used to think that in my life as a dancer in the 1980’s that music juxtaposed with dance gave more meaning to some songs over others.  I now know that this is not true music comes first and the interpretation of that music dancing came second.  It just so happened that I had the venue to give music Dionysian art it so richly deserved.

 Musicians like the Stones, Eagles and Led Zeppelin are still active because the money is so attractive and their solo careers have long since sputtered. I am glad they still perform but it lacks the anthem of originality, rebelliousness and the fact that our parents hated it made it attractive as well. To wit music sales are paltry when compared to the 20^th century.     I also attribute the fact that there is a dearth of musical talent as well.  Another statement that might have me assassinated but when hip-hop and country music are the headliners something is seriously missing from the collection. Not that that form of expression does not have its place but it feels like the supporting cast has taken over the starring roles. 

The Wolf's Cry

The Wolf's Cry
By Jack Briant
May 6, 2010

Blue true love never came from the wolf’s cry. We think that the animals cry within us is love calling, it’s simply our hormones goading us into brainwashing the mind that it is in love. Well hardly. All five senses gang up on us at one time and we think we have no alternative but to believe nature has found us our mate. Ah but there’s the rub. When the five senses can no longer conjure up the excitement they together helped produce, we are usually left with just one sense and alone it can’t quite carry it off. Compound that with our partner having the same plight and a different sense than the one we rely on, the disintegration process has already begun. She is visual and you are touchy feely. She likes to “see” things and you want to “feel” them. The communication is headed for a break down. The language barrier between you becomes a bridge too far. In the beginning it’s all-blissful, but inevitably ennui rears its ugly head. And just like a shark that fails to keep moving love sinks and just gets too heavy to start breathing again.Lust is the main culprit, which takes this imagined love as its wolf’s cloak. Lust is a beautiful emotion God gave us but it usually gets us into trouble once we have had the peak sensation. And lust can take us for quite a ride and can even make us forget the torture she puts us through in between love making sessions. We imagine she’s in love with us during the sex act only to find she’s grown even colder after the last time in bed.
Funny when you ask why we try to bed someone it is usually because they’re hot. And we hope we fall in love with their mind later. And if they aren’t blessed with a steamy presence we get to know their mind first and go to bed with them later.
So what do we do? Go to trueharmony.com and try to get our 27 character defects lined up with someone else’s? Do we leave it to chance meetings in bars, the supermarkets or serendipitous chance meetings?
The first conundrum is when we find someone attractive how quickly do we head to the horizontal dance between the sheets? If it’s the first night the stigma of he’s a player and she’s a slut gets stamped across our foreheads. If we go back into the 20th century we waited in some cases until we were married before we engaged in coitus. But it’s the 21st century and fortunately/fortunately it’ more like the third date when we “consummate” the relationship. Too soon? Who is to say? A month, two months? Does that insure respectability or even longevity? The trick is to have had as many lucid moments as possible before we share our body with someone else. We could get casual about sex, practice it safely and hope we hook that striped bass we can take home to the family for more intense viewing. But casual sex can harden our attitudes about love and we get calluses instead of finding a tender spot with someone.
Some men and most women resort to being a bit more particular in choosing a bed partner. If it includes alcohol and we end up in bed sooner than we had planned our regret period may leave us wishing we had waited. Better we get a little more analytical and decide tonight’s the night before we have imbibed any spirits. It might take some of the spontaneity out of the moment but better that than waking up with buyer’s remorse the next morning when we glance to the other side of the bed. Let’s face it, we make decisions based on emotions and then we justify them with logic later. Don’t we do the same with carnal knowledge?
There can never be enough time when it comes to thinking we love someone. But love is a disappearing act, it not only comes and goes but it becomes ghostly when the amount of love we give relies on how much we can take. That sweet feeling becomes bitter when we mix in the sour grapes of judgment and cynicism. Attachment is the ultimate spy that we clamor for and takes with it disillusionment as its partner and we are never the same. Expectation becomes insistence and no one can live up to those selfish claims not even us. Things that we think are required for love are the elements that decompose it.
Just what are those elements? Smothering disguised as attention. Possessiveness wearing the mask of faithfulness, and needing becoming a un healthy co dependence. And in the end sensuality and sexual attraction become emotional apathy. Which brings me to the biggest lie of love sex. It is the celebration of the biological function that gives chemistry a bad name. Acrimony and jealousy seem to be covered up by great sex. And when everyday life comes calling the prime ingredient of the relationship gets thrown out with the Wednesday night trash. When monogamy becomes routine, sex is the glue that keeps the two pieces together. But unless the union has interlocking pieces the parts will separate and die. Not a very lovely view of one of the greatest gift to us humans, sex but when we place so much emphasis on it when we begin a relationship we will wonder if we can ever trust our libido.

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Castle Keep

A man’s home used to be called his castle.  I think this notion left our consciousness somewhere in the mid 20^th century.  Oh how I long for it to make a comeback.  Not everyday mind you but it should be honored more than in just a distant memory hidden in the recesses of our male chivalry.  Yes it was chivalrous because back then we needed a refuge from the pressure we felt each day as the hunter in the form of silver certificates that fed, clothed and housed our family. 

That notion of bearing the burden has left only some of us as our distaffed counterparts have claimed their rightful bounty in terms of their equality.  However as I have said before somewhere equality does not have to mean that everything is 50/50.  Some women love that their men are the providers even in the 21^st Century.  Yes there are still some women that long to be taken care of by their man and they in turn take care of their man in terms of his mental and physical well being like providing him sustenance and making sure he presents his best face to the world. I still need the emotional support that my mate instills in me that I am putting my best foot forward into the world each day.  I need to read her what I write each day and am guided by her timeless and spot on commentary of everyone I meet. 

The Steam Valve

I have found a new place for me to publish my own thoughts that won't bruise the egos of those that bedevil me.  Like my stepson and his unwillingness to get a job, any job.  He prefers to stay on unemployment and if he can't find employment off the books he will choose to stay in his boxers all day and do nothing.  There is no incentive because Uncle Sam is providing him the pocket change to do  just that. He will ride out the summer and then take his two-month vacation in the Far East only to come back near the end of the year no closer to being on his own than he is now.  

The Language of Love

Does not always speak in English.  Sometimes it takes on the eloquence of intuition but more likely love manifests itself in the solar plexus. Most might think it resides in the heart but the solar plexus gives me the most visceral of all feelings.  When you love someone it starts in the throat and radiates downward.  The heart is the mythical residence of love because it sells Valentine’s Day cards.

  We don’t always feel love for the one we love but that doesn’t mean that we don’t love them.  Once in awhile the feeling of love takes in hibernation as a retreat from itself because like a sharp knife it can cut and cut deep.  When love makes us bleed the only way the hemorrhage cauterizes the wound love sometimes leaves us with is hiding beneath the rock of temporary numbness. 

The language of Love is still spoken in English when we say I love you but we all know that even when it’s unspoken it’s still the most powerful force on earth. 

Asteroids

Some of the blogs out there are like asteroids, a dead piece of planet, once full of life and good intention now doomed to drift in cyber space holding the address from whence they came.