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A continuation...

Lovely didn't miss a beat. She feigned innocence and cursed the "Scammers" who she said, had taken her photos and made that "fake profile."

It is funny...the other day in CE and P Forum the subject of Mariz came up and another poster took issue with the age difference, my being 45 and Mariz being barely 20. I asked if he thought it dirty or shameful and he said no, only that some older men take advantage of younger womens' naivete. I explained how different cultures have different standards of maturity and how Mariz is finishing her Masters, etc., etc. The point though, is that far from me manipulating a younger girl, I am far more vulnerable than most any 20 year old. My culture does not believe in romantic love, so when I first felt those strong emotions for Lovely I was like a teenaged boy.

When Lovely claimed to be innocent, I actually believed her hahaha. Then, as we spoke, I opened the second dating site, typed in Lovely's particulars once again...and...just as with the first site, up came two profiles. As with the first, one profile was unused for months. The second had photos she had just taken especially for me 4 days previously. I blew up. As we talked, and I accused her elder sister in Maryland of putting these new profiles online. As the conversation became heated that profile with the new photos disappeared right before my eyes! The timing was, as they say, impeccable.

At that point I knew Lovely either had messaged her eldest sister to remove it or else deleted it herself. The eldest sister, or "Ate" (Ah-tay) Sheryll, disliked me since January when she told me that if she wanted she could convince Lovely to drop me because of my status with Rizza. Granted, my being married doesn't make me the ideal mate but it really isn't unusual in a nation that has no divorce (making it one of only two on the planet, the other nation barring divorce being Malta). Sheryll seemed as if she was threatening me though her general tone was happy go lucky.

Naturally, as soon as Sheryll signed off I phoned Lovely and discussed the conversation with her. Lovely said that I shouldn't think anything of it since she was quite able to make up her own mind and old enough to do as she pleased. Then, without my knowing, she called Sheryll and told her everything I had said. From that day on Sheryll never again talked with me and though Lovely would sometimes tell me how happy her eldest sister was that Lovely had found me, I definitely felt otherwise and would eventually discover that I had been correct in my thinking.

It is funny how we fool ourselves and adapt our thinking so as to be able to accept whatever shit our special someone dishes out and so it was that I convinced myself that Sheryll had made those new dating profiles. Lovely would get sad when I would bring this up and insist it was scammers. I in turn insisted that Lovely contact both sites and complain about identity theft. Of course she yessed me to death and even gave me a phone number she insisted was that of the scammer responsible. I called it three times and probably caused some poor Filipina to get get her ass kicked by an insanely jealous husband if background noise is any indication.

Fast forward to April...Out of the blue Lovely broke up with me as construction began on the addition to her parents' home, the addition that was to be our home. At first I was dumbfounded but it quickly turned to relief that I hadn't finished the addition- better to break it off before getting neck deep in bullshit.

The very next afternoon Lovely phoned me and told me that she had just come from an afternoon mass and had realised while praying on the matter that she did in fact love me and couldn't stand to lose me. I accepted her back while mentally committing to scrapping the addition. She told me that her father had warned her that the following day there would be yet another one of the revolving blackouts that plague Mindanao- known in Mindanao as "brownouts"- and if so, she would message or call me in the afternoon or evening after the power came back on.

Sure enough, no Lovely the following day. I ended up calling the military base near her home, Camp Bancasi, to ask about local conditions and was told no brownout had occurred that day! Instead of calling one of her sisters or her parents- since Lovely wasn't answering her phone- I decided to try something else.

I opened a dating site, one that she hadn't had a profile on but one that is very popular with Bisaya women. Sure enough, as if by magic, her face popped up on people that were currently online. I wasn't even suprised. I immediately made a fake profile and used a model's photo haha. After messaging her she immediately viewed my "profile." She came back 3 times and I finally lost patience and messaged her thus: "Lovely, you know who this is and if you do not immediately sign onto YM and deal with this I'll be in Nasipit tomorrow handing out copies of those photos I took of you." Hahahahaha.

Immediately- of course- Lovely signed onto YM and took a long time between posts. I knew she was changing her passwords quickly so that I couldn't post those photos and ruin her life. The thing is, I would never do such a thing under any circumstances. I just needed to talk to her immediately so she couldn't once again claim scammers had stolen her identity.

As she took her time I re-examined her latest profile. Headlined "Looking for Love" and spouting certified bullshit about wanting to find her soulmate, the best part was when she wrote, "I hate liars and games. I am an honest girl." Hahahaha. I laugh now but at the time I was very deeply hurt of course. To cut to the chase, a month later I agreed to give it another go and that is what brought us to July and the final breakup, but not before I found 11 more new profiles...and she couldn't believe that I loved her? It is dangerous to read motivations into a lover's negative actions. I COULD believe her lack of self esteem led her to convince herself that I could not love her and therefore led her to keep one eye on the horizon- BUT I was building a home for us so why would she doubt my sincerityV...

To be continued...

You;ve treated me so well in the past, and more recently I've treated you so badly, I wonder is there a happy medium, is it worth one more shot, my instincts and all my friends and people who care say no, but it could be worth one more try. Maybe that is just the fiend in me talking.

Oh meph, I miss you and hate you and love you.

I love mdma ... but I should only use it once a month and I know this. In the past, I have used it more than once a month but I am *trying* to limit myself!

But I wish there was another club drug that actually worked for me.

I've tried other drugs but nothing is the same! Coke doesn't do much for me (I've tried it a couple times and I just haven't gotten much out of it). Ghb is only good if I take it with mdma. And ketamine is just not my thing ... I just don't like the effects. I've also tried some psychedelics but I can't do any of those in a "party" scene as I have ridiculous anxiety issues. I have tried two psychedelics at parties and, both times, I have gotten super anxious and I will just like sit in the corner the whole time, just scared of everything. I enjoy psychedelics but just outside in nature or something like that - and NOT with lots of people.

I know I have the option of going sober which I will likely be doing. I just love the culture and everything ... I dunno ... I wish I could find another club drug that would work for me!

edit

A continuation...

After breakfast Mariz's father had to travel to another town to conduct Saturday worship at a new congregation, or as the INC call them, "Locales" (low-Kalayz). As her mum puttered around the home we all sat around in the "sala" (parlour/living room) and MJ and my mate, Robert began telling me about how Robert was now well into the conversion process. I got the distinct feeling that this was particularly directed towards me because of Mariz.

Any Jew who spends any amount of time with non-Jews is well aware of how prostelysation is always around the corner. In the case of cults like the INC I was also aware that they sometimes use attractive women to seduce men into the fold. The American Hippie Christian cult, Children of G-D" were reknowned for this despicable practice which they called "Flirty Fishing." I wasn't aware of INC practices in this area but was immediately on guard with Mariz.

None of us could go anywhere because to be seen in public with either Robert or I would scandalise MJ, Mariz and their family as well as cost their father his position as pastor and their home and car since everything is owned by the Church. Therefore we spent the day watching DVDs and talking as I tried to stop nodding having taken my afternoon dose of morphine at lunch. When I'm active, even simply walking, I never nod. However, sitting in some strange cult's well guarded compound and making small talk led me into a struggle to stay lucid- a struggle I more often than not lost. Robert apologised on my behalf telling them "confidentially" that I had recently undergone "oral surgery."

After supper Robert, MJ and myself got our things together for the return trip to Manila. As I was walking to the SUV Mariz very shyly handed me an envelope and begged me not to read it until I was back in Manila. As her parents and younger sisters watched we said our chaste farewell and off I went on that 5 hour drive back to the capital.

Naturally, as soon as we were on the hiway I opened the envelope and to my suprise it was a poignant and heartfelt letter about how much she had enjoyed our short time together. She told me that she didn't always agree with her Church's teachings but like them or not, they forbade relationships between members and non-members. She realised that I would never consider conversion but she wanted me to know that she liked me a lot and really wished things were different. The letter's message wasn't a suprise of course.

Back in Makati, the section of Metro Manila where I sublet my studio, I began preparing for my suprise trip to Mindanao for Lovely's. 23rd birthday. Getting online-since Lovely believed that I was still back in the US- I sat down to chat with the birthday girl. Right away she started that same tired shit about how I never loved her, was just toying with her and would never truly be hers.

Now, in describing the breakup in that entry I deleted I mentioned how the situation was still too painful to talk about. The jist of all that is that back in February, while I was still primarily living in my home in Rizza's family compound, Lovely and I had been having a conversation on the phone in which she had asked me if I had ever cyber-dated. I told her that no, I had never tried that and then naturally asked her whether she herself had done so. Laughingly she told me how her eldest sister- the one married to the much older American and living in Maryland- had pushed her to do so and had even made two profiles for her but it was all months before I had met her at that gathering at her home.

I asked her if those dating profiles still existed and she replied that she had no idea but gave me the names of the two sites in case I wanted to check on it. After we hung up I went online and couldn't find her profile. I then searched using her particulars and much to my suprise found two profiles on that one site. As she had told me one profile was indeed unused for months. However, the second profile had been active 2 days prior and in several photos she was wearing outfits I had bought her!!! My head was spinning and I quickly phoned her.

To be continued...

Oh how I miss you my friend, my friend
Won't you open up your eyes and let me fly back in again
Oh how I need you my friend, my friend
to help me play it louder so no one misunderstands
Oh you oh you
Cause my friend, my friend
You know we never let the music end
Cause its our only hope
We've got no place left to go
Oh how I love you my friend, my friend
Won't you help me blow the clouds so it will never rain again
Don't be afraid of me, my friend
Say no don't be afraid of me, my friend
Say no don't be afraid of me, my friend
Yes i wonder why you wonder if I'll be there in the end
Yes i wonder yes i wonder yes i wonder why you wonder
yes i wonder ooo i wonder ooo i wonder ooo
Cause my friend, my friend
You know we never let the music end
Cause its our only hope
We've got no place left to go
Born of the brightest melody we need
Adapting to changes in the plan again
Cause my friend, my friend
You know we never let the music end
Cause its our only hope
We've got no place left to go
Yes i wonder yes i wonder yes i wonder why you wonder
yes i wonder ooo i wonder ooo i wonder ooo
Cause my friend, my friend
Born of the brightest melody we need
Adapting to changes in the plan my friend.

http://open.spotify.com/track/4ca15h3G0RxlpOPTGv75pq



this song gives me chills, but the warm and good kind, cant wait to see my best friend in the entire world this friday

A continuation...

Mariz was definitely interested in me and against better judgement I found myself attracted to her as well. Personality is a big turn on for me and she was inquisitive, highly intelligent and pretty, though not my usual type. What is Rachamim's "usual type" you ask? I prefer very short girls, 4'8" to 4'11- Mariz is 5'4". I prefer girls who are very well endowed- Mariz looked like a stick figure, in other words, a typical Filipina. I prefer dark complexioned girls- Mariz has alabaster skin. Yet, I found her pretty in an unusual way.

Of course, as we sat in the "sala" (parlour/living room), the subject of my religion came up. This is a given seeing as how Mariz's father is- as I mentioned in the preceding post- a pastor in the Iglesia ni Cristo, a Filipino Christian denomination or cult, depending upon one's perception (I cotton towards "cult" myself). Iglesia ni Cristo, formerly Iglesia ng Kristo, was founded by an apostate Catholic in 1914 and requires blind and total obedience to its doctrine and its clergy, never a good thing in any religion. One must attend services twice weekly, Saturday or Sunday morning, and Wednesday or Thursday evenings. The difference in days relates to some areas suffering from a shortage of pastors thus requiring those serving to perform double duty in 2 congregations.

Members have a form like a time card that must be initialled by a pastor or deacon at each service to verify attendance and those who have missed however many services must make a "voluntary donation" or else be barred from full participation. Seeing as how adherants believe the Church to be their only road to salvation, and how they believe in a unique variation of the Rapture, this ostracisation can terrify adherants so that naturally they will even mortgage property to get into the Church's good graces again.

Girls do not have relationships with non-members and are virgins until marriage. If a member's daughter were to be seen talking at length to any boy-alone- not belonging to the Church the girl would be ostracised. Her family can have nothing whatsoever to do with her lest they too fall out of disfavour and become ostracised themselves.

This of course was something I was already well aware of since the Church is the fastest growing religion in the Philippines. As noted in my preceding entry, I had broken off a dalliance with a member simply because we had to meet in secret and she refused to let our relationship progress past light kissing. She was 30 and still a virgin, and although that isn't so strange in the Philippines, it does at least convey the mindset of female Church members. So, I didn't have the faintest illusion that Mariz and I would ever be anything more than casual friends.

When asked about my religion I naturally- though not without trepidation- answered "Jewish." Mariz and her family are Tagalogs, the ethnicity dominating Central and Southern Luzon, and of course NCR, or National Capital Region which is what Filipinos use to describe Metro Manila. I know very few Tagalogs and Joysa was the first Tagalog woman I had ever been intimate with (actually she is a quarter Kapampangan but lives as a Tagalog). I mention ethnicity/tribal affiliation because in the Central Philippines- the Visayas Region, the home turf as it were of the Bisaya ethnicity- the word for Jewish is "Hudiyo." Sadly, the word is synonymous with "Devil" or "Satanic." This is because the Spanish, in all their Inquisitional splendour conditioned the Bisaya to hate Jews, since Jews after all killed their L-rd and Savior Jesus Christ.

Although Tagalog also refer to Jews as "Hudiyo," they do not demonise Jews- or at least the ones I have come to know do not. The Iglesia ni Cristo, or "INC" for short, translates as "Church of Christ." Church doctrine maintains that in the 1st Century CE/AD all existing Church's apostacised from the one true Church founded by old JC himself. Until 1914 and the establishment of INC, no true Church existed. The INC shares some practices and beliefs with Judaism which makes INC more amenable TO Judaism, and therefore made Mariz's father more amenable to yours truly. Never the less it IS a Christian denomination and like all good Christians the INC maintains a "My way or the fucking hiway" mentality, "hiway" of course being "bloody fucking hell."


The night ended early since, like almost all rural areas of the Philippines, the Church compound where Mariz and her family resided all went to sleep before 9PM. Retiring to a small guesthouse in the compound my mate and I had a few laughs at my expence about the shock on my face when we initially pulled into the compound before we both fell asleep.

As the saying goes, "Early to bed, early to rise" and so it was that at 530AM I sat down and joined the pastor and his family for a Filipino-style breakfast. Rural Filipinos, non-Muslims anyway, all eat boiled white rice as they do with any meal, stir fried "ampalaya" (Bitter Melon ) with shreds of pork and scrambled egg, fried eggs and cold water. Just as she had the evening before, Mariz sat herself across from me as both parents looked on with the look parents all over the world share when one of their children takes those first tenative steps into the world of adult relationships.

Her parents condoning Mariz's interest in me shocked me, but I would soon understand just why they approved of their daughter's interest...

To be continued...

In clearing out all the jetsam and flotsam from my Blog I inadvertantly deleted the second to last entry leaving a huge gap between June and October of 2012. So, a recap...

On July 3rd Lovely, my lover at the time, suddenly convinced herself that I did not really love her and was only toying with her. Despite my best attempts at convincing her otherwise, she wouldn't let go of that idea and it quickly devolved into us breaking up. Lovely then disappeared and on the third day, July 6th, the stress precipitated a case of Sepsis, or Blood Poisoning. When I was 17, in the army and fighting in Southern Lebanon, I was wounded in a firefight. A 7.62MM shell from an AK47 round ricocheted off some concrete debris, entered below my chin and then ricocheted inside my head tearing up my jaw and my sinuses. Despite microsurgery I still have tiny, almost microscopic metal fragments throughout my jaw. Stress can cause fragments to migrate and voila...

I became very ill and was hospitalised in Butuan, the major population centre in my part of Mindanao. When I was fit for travel, though still quite ill, I flew to New York to receive better medical care. It was in New York, on July 26th that Lovely contacted me via email. Telling me she was sorry but she felt it was better to go our seperate ways because she could not believe that I truly loved her. I told her of course that the stress from our breaking up had almost killed me but despite her sadness, she sheld steadfastly to her idea.

We continued communicating and by the middle of August had come to an understanding that when I returned to Mindanao she and I would work on our relationship. Lovely made it clear that she was hoping I'd return by her 23rd birthday on September 3rd and with that dear reader, you are brought up to speed in order to appreciate the following entry...

With Lovely's birthday looming brightly in my mind I flew home for a brief visit on August 26th. My plan was to fly south from Manila on September 2nd in order to suprise Lovely. Well to do Bisaya have a custom where dozens of clan members will serenade an unmarried female on her birthday well before sunrise. I planned to join her family members and suprise her when she awoke to the others' singing under her window. Purchasing my ticket for Mindanao I then set about spending a few days seeing old friends in Makati and the rest of Metro Manila.

One old friend told me about his new girlfriend, a 22 year old RN and invited me to dine with them. Going to a Korean BBQ joint we had a pleasant evening and the girl, MJ, invited me to join them on a visit to her family home in Zambales Province, 5 hours north of Manila. The next afternoon they picked me up and drove north out of the city.

Arriving in the municipality of Iba I was shocked when my friend entered an INC compound. INC, or Iglesia ni Cristo, is a homegrown Christian cult famed for its strict discipline and atypical cultish behavior. Seeing my expression his girlfriend, MJ, giggled and told me that her father is a pastor. My jaw must have dropped because they both began laughing hard.

As luck would have it MJ's family was waiting for us to arrive so that we could all eat supper together. After being introduced to her parents MJ introduced me to her 3 younger sisters, Michelle, age 9, Mia, age 17 and Mariz Roca, age 20. Sitting down to eat Mariz made sure she sat across from me and peppered me with questions. Finishing her Masters in Surgical Nursing at a local university she was very intelligent. However, despite her intelligence and evident maturity, she was only 20 years old. I had a problem with Lovely being 22 so 20 was too much for me.

I will continue in a following entry...

I have had a bad case of writers block for the last couple months. Which is funny since I am not a writer. Its not that I dont have anything to say its just that when I start writing it sounds contrived and bitchy. I keep trying to pour my feelings into these neat words and it just gets messy I realize I dont know how I feel. I am not comfortable in my own skin. In fact I repulse myself I wouldnt be my friend and I sure as hell wouldnt fuck me. I am an embarrassment to myself and no amount of xanax can blot that fact out. The last time I felt whole was when I was jamming needles into my arm chasing divinity. Hell I am not even sure I felt it very often then. I often think about moving somewhere no one knows me and starting over but I realize that I am the problem and there is no way to separate me from me.

Man I have lived such a blessed life I am not a virgin I have had a lot of friends. I have had experiences that I couldnt even explain fun that most people counldnt comprehend. I am just not happy and I havent been for a long time. I need a change I need to change. I am scared of so many things it feels like I am drowning in this self doubt, self hatred, self loathing I am dying the slowest most agonizing spiritual death. So I pop another pill and pretend it will be ok. You say what do you want? How can you live up to this image you have for yourself? Its never as bad as it seems the truth is somewhere in the middle.

I want to have the courage to be me. I want to have the wisdom to know who that is. I want the fire to change the world. I want the will to live for me to do for me without thought to other peoples perceptions and wishes. I want to live without this weight dragging me down. I thought it would come with age but it hasn't. I thought drugs would fix it they didn't. I thought therapy would fix me it hasn't. At what point is it rational to realize that happiness is unattainable that the best thing I can hope for is controlled misery? A comfortable cage I can live my life in perhaps a job and a ugly boring women who doesn't intimidate me. See I realize that I have created a self-fulfilling prophecy I have no confidence so I hate myself, then I hate myself because I have no self confidence. This cycle has been destroying my social life since I was a child. I seem powerless to change it.

Man I sound like a whiny bitch.

If you don't recall, I made an earlier thread titled, ”I'm faster than you”.

As said before, one night I turned off the switch to my bedroom light and I was in bed before the room was dark.

Now I elaborate on why this happens.


First off, plyometrics, also known as jump training. If you want to perform better at whatever sport you play, I'd recommend including plyometrics into your routine.

A couple great exercises for reaction time include variations of box jumps. Start sitting on a smaller box, feet on the ground- don't raise them and stomp before jumping- then from that seated position jump to a larger box placed in front of you, land softly. 3 sets of 8. The next exercise you can do is start from the same seated position on the small box. Jump up and land softly on the same box you are sitting on. 3 sets of 8. Do these AS FAST as you can while keeping good form and landing softly.

Another great reaction exercise is to have a partner stand 20ft. from you and drop a tennis ball with his arm stretched up and out to his side. Run and try to get the ball before it bounces twice. 3 sets of 8. Then, from the same distance, lie on your belly, raise your legs and arms up. When he drops the ball, drop your arms and legs and try to get up and run and catch the ball before it bounces three times, or two if you're as fast as me. Which I doubt.

Now I go on to more


Tuesday/Thursday/Saturday weight routine:
· clean and press- 2 sets, 8 reps
· squat- 2 sets, 12 reps
· pullover-2 sets, 8 reps
· bench press- 2 sets, 6 reps
· good morning- 2 sets, 8 reps
· curl- 2 sets, 8 reps

think explosive when you lift. Do the exercises fast and explosive, while keeping good form of course.

Cardio

Mon/Wed/Fri
Running- try to build up to 4 miles in 25 minutes. Change your tempo while running. Sprint some yards then return to your previous pace, shuffle feet if you like.

Tues/Thurs/Sat
Jump rope- 30 minutes, try to get to where you can go the whole 30 without a break.



Some other stuff:
Ankle and wrist weights are good for punching/kicking a bag or bob. Get a good stretch.

Pushup jumps: draw a line dividing your workout space. Do pushup jumps back and forth from one side of the line to another.
Then go on to this: around the clock pushups. Your feet are the center of the clock, and pushup jump first clockwise around to where you began, then counterclockwise.
Next are basic pushup jumps, you stay in the same place but your entire body gets airborne. Do these three in intervals, 30 seconds each, don't break between them but break 30 seconds before the next interval.

ay Judas came up to D.C.
He'd been down in Georgia for a while
He drove a 944
He bought with the soul
Of a blonde-headed kid
With a left-handed guitar
Now he's lookin' for me
Citizen see-O-P-E
Sign the dotted line please
For the fake 50's
Now Judas answer me
"Since I was the age to speak
Haven't you been listening?"

Salvation
Salvation
Salvation
Salvation
I'm calling
Salvation

Well he came to town
Found the woman that I love
And he fucked her down
She told him where I live
Off of 9th in the alleyway
Where they say
They got the coke and the dope
Until you end up broken
"You should have let the smack get you" he said
"But now you've got to deal with me instead
I'm downstairs on the Motorola
You know I've got 3 golden bullets
And I'm shooting for your soul"
Salvation

Salvation
Salvation
Salvation
I'm calling
Salvation

Well I came down with my Martin blazin'
My voice
It was cutting him up
Now he's aiming
His first shot grazed my eye
I lost half of my sight
And my firstborn's life
The second shot grazed off my guitar moon
And it made my guitar kinda play out of tune
But I just kept playing
Like I had nothing to lose
He turned the third on himself
'Cause the bastard knew

Salvation I'm calling
Salvation
Salvation
Salvation
Salvation
I'm calling
Salvation

Put the gun down
Put the gun down
Put the gun down
Put the gun down

Put the gun down
Put the gun down
Put the gun down
Put the gun down

Much better. I didn't start feeling ok until about a week after the beers, and it took two weeks before I started feeling well consistently. I'm trying to get my life rolling but it can be tough. Need a mate most of all. Need friends. Need to be social and out in front of people.

During my tranquil walks, numerous strangers have come before me to learn of my wonderfully misogynistic, guinea-hoarding philosophy. This was a confusing and bizarre occurrence at first. Naturally, I wrongly assumed opium and ether abuse had reached an apex in Coventry and merely pointed at the fools while engaging in hearty laughter.

It more recently came to my attention that townsfolk had been plastering buildings with large posters upon which the lettering read “Disregard Females, Acquire Currency”. During festive gatherings, some had prepared themselves for the proceedings my bringing scrolls with the same slogan and image affixed, displaying it for all to see when relevant to the proceedings.

Exactly why this somewhat bold statement has been ascribed to my likeness baffles me even at the moment of penning these writings. I cannot pretend these are not words I heed myself. With utmost certainty I can tell you that freshly issued gold sovereigns cause my mouth to salivate like the most wretched of beasts. The actions of feeble ladies rarely escape my scrutiny, although I am quick to fix my mind back unto business affairs.

The opposite sex had indeed opposed my advances for the better part of adult existence. I yearn not for pity when I disclose that indifference and inexpensive wine have become two dear friends only rivaled by my lust for bank notes.

In younger years, the porcelain-skinned and curvaceous among the fairer sex gave my eyes great delight. Gay music filled the room as I danced fanciful jigs often admired by most of those in attendance. Rarely did it bring the attention of those I most sought; although on occasion a drunken maiden lacking incisor teeth would join me in slumber.

One such maiden was called by those who knew her, Fraglene Bum-bóia. Pressing business affairs usually keep me from pondering our time together. The exception is only made here so I can transcribe the events as they happened.

In short, Fraglene’s uncouth demeanor, ether habit and purse-leaching ways played a primarily role in the creation of my philosophical stance. Much of my time was wasted catering to her whims, when it should have been spent maintaining balances alongside the oil refinery.

She had a taste for Vieux Boulogne, a cheese so potent in smell that often I questioned if my nose itself had begun to tell treacherous lies. Each wheel I purchased for her got larger, of elevated extravagance and was more putrid than the last. She’d sit with a white cloth firmly pressed upon her nose, huffing sporadically while feasting on every last morsel of that horrible cheese.

Ten years ago I finally decided that I’d had enough of her unsavory behavior, forcing me to part with half of my fortune as we parted ways. After the court case had closed I could barely contain my anger, knowing well how she would spend my hard-earned guineas.

During these darkest hours, my own problems started compounding. My sadness was so heavy that I could hardly make it into my place of employment to tally the earnings of the company. My thoughts were barraged by so much negative emotion that even a fine day of croquet would not calm the nerves.

Although I cannot take credit for the exact wording of an unknown scholar, “Disregard Females, Acquire Currency” is indeed a fine slogan all should consider before acting on primal urges. Since the coins on my desk have begun to stack high again, those old memories of Fraglene have been pushed back so far that I can scarcely remember the putrid odor of Vieux Boulogne.

i was going to post how patiently i'm waiting to become a bluelighter, but finally! :D BLUELIGHTER STATUS! i had to abandon my old account because my ex and his girlfriend were aware of my screen name, and that crazy bitch would creep me often. hopefully they won't find me.

Yes. My happiness has been removed. It will take years to regain a will or motive. Until then, I sleep. I stumble around. I sleep. I wash things. I sleep. I don't remember what I did before I found my medicine. For now ill sleep. Ill wash thing. Ill sleep. Ill drive. Ill buy things. Ill cook small things. Ill sleep. Ill wash things. Ill stare blankly at the sky. Ill smoke and taste dryness. Ill sleep

I am staying busy and keeping myself out of trouble. It's not hard to stay clean if I keep my schedule jam packed.

never gray. its all or nothing with me, it seems. this weekend, and pretty much all the time lately, was such a shitshow. there's a few hours on friday and most of saturday night that cannot be accounted for. its becoming more and more common i wake up in bed and have no idea how i got there. luckily I was with two good friends who wouldn't let anything bad happen to me all weekend. but it's still very unnerving and potentially embarassing to black out and act belligerent. it's not usually my style. i thought that i had left all my trainwreck behavior back in high school and college.... to be honest I am not even sure why I feel the need to get soooo fucked up lately. like just a little bit is never ever enough. i have to go big or go home. and it doesnt matter what other people tell me or what responsibilities i forgoe. I go through these wild phases sometimes. I think this one needs to end now though. I dont like where it is going. and im starting to feel a bit out of control.

See, when we were children, we were taught '1, 2, 3,' and 'A, B, C,' but we weren't set down on our mothers' knees and taught the game of black and white. That's the thing that was left out of all our educations, the game that I was trying to explain with these wave diagrams. That life is not a conflict between opposites, but a polarity. The difference bewteen a conflict and a polarity is simply--when you think about opposite things, we sometimes use the expression, 'These two things are the poles apart.' You say, for example, about someone with whom you totally disagree, 'I am the poles apart from this person.' But your very saying that gives the show away. Poles. Poles are the opposite ends of one magnet. And if you take a magnet, say you have a magnetized bar, there's a north pole and a south pole. Okay, chop off the south pole, move it away. The piece you've got left creates a new south pole. You never get rid of the south pole. So the point about a magnet is, things may be the poles apart, but they go together. You can't have the one without the other. We are imagining a diagram of the universe in which the idea of polarity is the opposite ends of the diameter, north and south, you see? That's the basic idea of polarity, but what we're trying to imagine is the encounter of forces that come from absolutely opposed realms, that have nothing in common. When we say of two personality types that they're the poles apart. We are trying to think eccentrically, instead of concentrically. And so in this way, we haven't realized that life and death, black and white, good and evil, being and non-being, come from the same center. They imply each other, so that you wouldn't know the one without the other.

Now I'm not saying that that's bad, that's fun. You're playing the game that you don't know that black and white imply each other. Therefore you think that black possibly might win, that the light might go out, that the sound might never be heard again. That there could be the possibility of a universe of pure tragedy, of endless, endless darkness. Wouldn't that be awful? Only you wouldn't know it was awful, if that's what happened. The point that we all forget is that the black and the white go together, and there isn't the one without the other. At the same time, you see, we forget, in the same way as we forget that these two go together.

The other thing we forget, is that self and other go together, in just the same way as the two poles of a magnet. You say 'I, myself; I am me; I am this individual; I am this particular, unique instance.' What is other is everything else. All of you, all of the stars, all of the galaxies, way, way out into infinite space, that's other. But in the same way as black implies white, self implies other. And you don't exist without all that, so that where you get these polarities, you get this sort of difference, that what we call explicitly, or exoterically, they're different. But implicitely, esoterically, they're one. Since you can't have the one without the other, that shows there's a kind of inner conspiracy bewteen all pairs of opposites, which is not in the open, but it's tacit. It's like you say 'Well, there are all sorts of things that we understand among each other tacitly, that we don't want to admit, but we do recognize tacity there's a kind of secret between us boys and girls,' or whatever it may be. And we recognize that. So, tacitly, all of you really inwardly know--although you won't admit it because your culture has trained you in a contrary direction--all of you really inwardly know that you as an individual self are inseparable from everything else that exists, that you are a special case in the universe. But the whole game, especially of Western culture, is to coneal that from ourselves, so that when anybody in our culture slips into the state of consciousness where they suddenly find this to be true, and they come on and say 'I'm God,' we say 'You're insane.'

I met a girl years ago. I might just be using it. Romanticizing it. Acting like I had something special because I've never had anything special like that with someone. I have wished for it. I have been on the borderline. I had one experience with a girl in high school that was magical- a girl I crushed on from 7-8th grade through to my senior year- when I finally won her.

I mean I guess there are levels of magic, but I took acid the first night we were officially together. Everything was right. "This is what I've been missing all my life."- I wasn't even talking about her. I had had her. That wasn't our first night together. We snuck around before that- when she was still kind of dating another guy. Did the year before. That stopped. Then she was suddenly available. And came to me- at my work. And we spent that New Years eve, together. At around midnight, I dropped my first hit- ever of LSD- which came on blotter paper that had an orange sun on it.

It was amazing.

I came up at a girl named "Pearl"'s house, and smoked some marijuana. I kind of forget how I got around. I think I may have drove. It wasn't a really strong trip- It was one hit- everything just felt alive. All circuits online. I made it to Sara- at her best friends' house. She had no idea I was on anything. But we laid down and had a beautiful night, kissing, touching- carressing. My attention was high.

I don't think anything has come close to that, as far as that kind of thing goes, except for maybe, maybe the time I took ecstasy and fucked like a zombie for two days straight, just about. Apparently I was a sex machine, and uhh, had some Kama Sutra book locked away in my head. I doubt it was that significant, but it worked for her. I can't remember much, other than having an awareness of how the body worked, and working with it. I would wake up/come to yet again having sex. I know we slept some, but I was largely unconscious- yet aware.

But with Sara- high school New Years turn of millennium, that was the most I have ever been turned on.

I think I may have been chasing that, since.

I'm not sure what I was leading into.

Sober?

Sober, the most I have felt was with Donna. That was like acid without acid, when I touched her. A lot of potential there. There was.

But now I'm not sure. I mean it's been 3 years.

I began seeing this number 23 many years ago. Though I have continuously been ridiculed for my insanity, people simply don't get it. I stand by that. It's in my life. It is around important stuff. You'd have to be there. It's all around my birth, so many ways. It's around these girls, through multiple dimensions of observation possible. I don't want to try to convince, here, though. It's everywhere.

She was around it. It was around her. I told her about it. I met her on the 23rd. And when we ended, I drowned her in it, or attempted to. Not drown really. Not my attempt, but it was a flood that I sent her. I couldn't hold it in. I had been trying. I wanted to release it just like "Hey, you know... haha- this. Whadayaknow?"- but she went back to work stripping, and I never heard from her again. How could I let someone go, who asked me who I was, and suddenly I could hear my voices clearly telling me that she was my wife- and her name matched my mother's name? Which happened to be 2 to the 3rd power multiplied by 23. I only found out, through her. Of course it wasn't just number. I felt on fire with her the first night. In a good way. I shut it off, though. I felt like I might be driving full speed off of a cliff, and I didn't trust. I had only just met her. I had to act with reservation. I might be too heavy for her. I felt weak. I didn't want her to have to hold me up. I felt weak, and that made me feel weak. Not masculine. Not strong. Not what I wanted to be.

I wanted to be a provider. And I had not the capability at the time. I had no home to bring her to. She expressed interest in quitting her job. Perhaps I influenced that. I wanted that. I wished I could have had stability to bring her into a home. Invite her in-completely. Marry her then, when the voice said she was my wife. Yea.

If only life was so simple. Right?

I know I'm crazy.

She went back to work. I acted not as interested as I was, for days. Holding off. And she took my distance as perhaps not being interested. I don't know. When she went to work, though (203 weeks from upcoming 12/21/2012... just the end of another kind of cycle.), I didn't hear from her again in any civil manner. I held back. I shouldn't have. It was my fault. It was in my control... but her heart was threatened, and her situation wasn't stable, and she needed to take care of herself, and that's how she does it. Taking her clothes off and dancing for men, and women. Boyfriends aren't too compatible. Or I wasn't.

I didn't want to let her go. It was too significant. Throughout life this 23 as I have seen it has showed up in ways that I couldn't quite pin down- what it was, to ways very ordered.

She had a lot of order around her. Even after her, my life reflects her in ways I won't try to lay out here, again. I feel I've done it too many times.

But I didn't think I made any kind of impression on her. She was the first girl to threaten to call the cops on me- and I have no idea what I really did to spark that. I left some stuff at her place. I was worried about her, too- as we spent time together, she cried in front of me, about things, and opened up greatly. How could I not feel a connection, or a sense of wanting to make sure she was alright, when suddenly I didn't hear from her (after she went back to work, and when I thought we had planned to meet again)... especially after what I had experience in light of the rest of my life, and my most sacred connections, and her with this number, that had been around... that had kept reinforcing it's prevalence... as something, around importance. I just felt like it was wrong not to try to make contact. That pushed her, and made her push me away. She I guess needed to be left alone then. Live and learn.

First girl I wanted to take home in a long time. Resisted that first weekend, when I had the chance. Didn't want to be weird. Perhaps I should have. Should. Could. Would.

Get to the point.

I didn't know I made any kind of impression. I still don't know. I still stalk her. I have felt at times she has considered me, and what actually happened, and what I tried to tell her happened. She didn't really reject me. I left her place two or three times in just a few days- when she wanted me to stay.

Get to the point. ... Yea.

Now I visit a page of hers, and I see this number- 23, displayed prominently. It's a nail-art thing. Something that is occurring in her town on the 23rd... But she has this as her profile picture- displayed, centrally. It may only be for her- she's excited for this- I know she has interest. That's cool. I can go with that- but this is the first number I have seen, and I watch her, like a hawk. I hate to say it. So pathetic- but nobody else comes close to her, so far, that I have met. Nobody I felt that connection with.

And more pictures available to be seen, displaying her body, which I like, of course. Something about her skin.
She was the first time I understood why a woman might wear a mask. Beautiful. Hard to contain.

Of course there was more. And she's also crazy- too. Not necessarily crazy... but crazy. I call myself crazy. I'm probably crazy in some more genuine ways than her, though. As in... dysfunctional. I don't know, though. Crazy, mad.

But I don't know what to make of this.

Maybe I just taught her, or something. Maybe it's hers now. I don't own 23.

Nails. Last Nine Inch Nails concert I saw was on her birthday, years ago.

And I have to admit I thought I was Jesus again. And she- Mary.

I'm in a schizophrenic hell universe, but not for long, because of time vortex, voom?

As children, we are allowed to explore the world of fantasy, and how certain aspects of life is connected to other parts of life...

As we grow up, we loose our sense of inquiring the connections that all things have, due to expectations that our culture and society beam into our minds during every waking moment.

Perhaps it is more worthwhile to think as a child, while maintaining the wisdom of a grown adult.

I would have to say thus far that 2012 has been a very interesting year with regards to my personal life, albeit in a miserable and excruciating way. In getting my labs back regarding my bout with Sepsis, I was informed that I had been infected with the heliobacterium Pylori. Known officially as Heliobacterium Pylori (makes sense doesn't it?), it lives in the stomach and is believed to be responsible for virtually all stomach ulcers.

It is pretty much a Third World bug that infects people-almost always-in adolescence. Mainly human to human through food preperation and/or poor hygeine it is rooted in human fecal matter...yep, it comes from human shit. In my case I probably caught in Israel, or Southern Lebanon, in my first couple of years in the army. I caught dysentery twice, cholera once and toxic shock syndrome from a sore under my arm from the Toyota seatbelt I used as a sling for my rifle (gosh I miss that Galil SAR. Why we switched to M16s I will never understand aside from our great deal from Uncle Toucan Fucken Sam. Thank G-D those days are ending now that we are back with an Israeli rifle, the TAR21, aka Tavor). Let us just say that sanitation both in my battalion's main camp at the time, Machaneh 80 (Camp 80), a former Jordanian Arab Legion camp in the Jordan Valley. As bad as it was though, it was asses and elbows better than most anything in Lebanon, gosh what a shit hole (sorry Arzi but the South WAS, this was less than 6 years after that country's latest civil war had begun, destroying the nation's negligible infrastrure.

Pylori rarely manifests at all, merely existing in symbiosis with its human host. For unknown reasons a tiny percentage of infected people will develop ulcers and other gastrointestinal disturbances. Those that do will do so deeply. I did not manifest but ignorantly took my physician's advice and began a 14 day regimen of Prevacid, a 3-in-1 protocol consisting of an antacid and 2 antibiotics.

One of the antibiotics in Prevacid is Amoxycillin. This is relevant because Amoxycillin is related to Penicillin, a medication that almost killed me before my alleegy to it was diagnosed (an incident that took place in the New Jersey State Prison System (NJ Dept of Corrections) as I was transiting the state reception system but alas, that interesting story is best left until I resume my Life Story entries). Needless to say Amoxycillin and I were less than happy together.

My first 3 days on Prevacid were hellish. Because of the acid reflux caused by the attack on Pylori I had, if you can somehow imagine it, hiccups that-upon reaching the top of my throat- metamorphisised into screaming dry heaves. The result was a 9 to 12 hour bout with my face hanging in the toilet. On the third day I threw in the towel and discontinued the Prevacid.

When it rains it pours...

Xmas in the Philippines is quite an event in most places, just not here on Mindanao. I live in the central portion of the east coast and while we have no Muslims, less than 3,000 in our five province region, we have a whole lot of Animists and a whole lot of Maoists. Even the Catholics and the main Protestant denominations are infested with Liberation Theology.

My inlaws don't do the tree thing though my father in law is a very spiritual man. Indeed, when I met him, he was on a pilgimage to Jerusalem. The biggest difference on Xmas, or rather Xmas Season, is that homemade foods are on sale and I love cheese ice cream, sort of like a cheesecake flavour. Filipinos are like most SE Asians and can't stomach dairy products, the "cheese" commonly available is oil based artificial nonsense.I buy Aussie cheddar at Swiss Market, the big expat market in Davao City, but, not much else is available. During Xmas Season however, a Tsinoy (Filipino of Chinese descent) woman down the road gets goat milk from yours truly, and makes many gallons of cheese icecream.

Asians like weird flavours. The preferred dessert here is Halo Halo (pronounced Hollow-Hollow). A parfait glass is filled with shaved ice, red beans, yellow corn kernals, sweet syrup, cubes of fluorescent coloured Jello, scoop of ice cream, and whipped cream on top. They love that vile shit! The most popular icecream flavour is Ube (oo-bay), a violet coloured mess. Ubes are a native tuber, akin to sweet potato and if sweet potato is your thing, go for it

I gave myself a bit of a treat though, some Snickers, three bars cost a days wage for most labourers here. For "dessert" though, I will take my last two bottles of methadone instead of morphine. Morphine has me dosing every 8 hours with a lot of peaks and valleys. Methadone is one gulp and I'm good for 36 hours. I dose 360 mgs of Instant Release morphine and try to limit two dosages, 360 in the morning, at daybreak, and 360 at 3PM to 4PM, for the second dose, making it every 12 hours instead of the 6 to 8 that most do. Each bottle of methadone is 220mg of cherry methadose, a horrible concentrate that tastes poisonous, even when diluted with water. The 440 mgs two bottles offer will keep me straight until 8AM, Tuesday, December 27th. Cheers!

In s couple of days the Jewish Holiday of Chanukkah (chah-Noo-kah) will once again be upon us and this year it falls within the same days as Western Xmas. The Jewish Calendar, like most, is Lunar, while the Western Calendar is based upon the sun. Therefore, each year, Chanukkah slides slong the Western Calendar, some years beginning in November.

Americans have a disgusting custom of giving gifts on the holiday. Some give a different gift each night while others, come all the way out of the closet, and put them under a "Hannukah Bush," with even the name of the holiday changed for Western sensibilities. If you listen to such dullards they will tell you that "Hannukah" [sic] is the "Festival of Lights" and that it celebrates /G-D's love, or some such dunderhead nonsense. So, what DOES Chanukkah commemorate?

After Alexander the Great died in India his top generals split the empire amomgst themselves, with two, P'tolemy and Seleucid, consolidating all the pie pieces into two empires. The Seleucid capital was in what is today Syria. The P'tolemaic capital was in what is today Egypt. Their border, naturally, was what is today Israel, the Jews were not conquered so as to serve as a natural buffer between those two Leviathans. In power struggles between the two empires they ran roughshod over Judean (Jewish) sovereignity. Eventually, the Seleucids pushed the P'tolemaic Empire back a tad bit and so it was the Seleucid Empire exerting its influence over Judea, nominally a still sovereign nation.

To make a long story short (yes, it IS possible with Rachamim), the Selecid Emperor, Antiochus Epiphanes IV conquered Judea. As any Greek would, Antiochus wanted to "enlighten" the backwards, tribal Jews and their closed society. As always, there were Uncle Toms amongst the Jewish People, looking outward with baited breath and imagining how much better life could be if only Jews joined the majority. It was these Jews, the Hellenists, who cozied up to the occupying Greeks. These house nig*ers were allowed to rule over us, and in graduated steps they worked to obliterate what was even then, an extremely ancient culture.

Eventually, the collabarators announced that the Temple in Jerusalem would henceforth become a Greek pagan temple devoted to Apollo. Moreover, an altar would be placed in every community down to the tiniest village, and sacrifices would be made daily to Antiochus and to the Greek pantheon. Of course in the days before mass communication these edicts had to be disseminated personaly by a representative of the "Government." Arriving in communities, the mid ranking official, backed by a strong contingent of Greco-Syrian soldiers, would unload a portable altar, order village craftsmen to copy its schematic, then, with the entire community in the village plaza, the men would be forced to swear allegiance to the Seleucids and to make a sacrifice to the Greek pantheon.

Arriving in the hill village of Modi'in (Moe-d'een), in-ironically- what is today the "West Bank," the representative unloaded the altar, soldiers gathered the entire village in the plaza. Under arms the representative ordered the men to come forward and make the sacrifice. Noone was willing, but under threats of violence, one man finally stepped forward and bowed. He told the Greek representative that he would make the sacrifice. Very quickly, an elderly man stepped forward in ftont of the kneeling villager and lopped his head off with a scimtar. As the head rolled the men in the village attacked the shocked Greeks and killed all of them.

The man who lopped off the willing collabarator was named Matityahu, and though we traditionally use our father's first names as our surnames, he was everafter known by the surname "Maccabi" (Mahk-ah-bee), meaning "mallet," or "hammer." He led the village except for the most elderly, up into the hills and canyons.

I will stop here and continue in my next entry...