What I Say to Distract Myself

I have resigned myself to being alone.

Sotomayor is confirmed. So what. A little bit of a racist. It's the way of the world. The police chief of Los Angeles has resigned to go make a lot of money in Afghanistan, and Antoilio Villaraigosa, America's worst mayor, lithped a thpeeth in his soft Mexi-Catalan politician's voice -- the voice of a man raised by women -- about how anyone, thimply anyone could get the job. "They could be black, white, Latino, Asian, be a woman. It could be a Muslim, a Catholic or a Jew." Golly. That really, really needed to be said. I see that he deliberately left out male Protestants though. Now that we're all Latinas, however -- Sotomayor, Villaraigosa -- we need not concern ourselves with those famously unwise white males that we Latinas are replacing in all high public offices.

If you just step out of it for a brief moment, and think about what this slimiest of pols so ekthquithitely annunthiated, you'll see that he is, actually, insane. It is the madness of crowds, the demiurge of which possesses Villaraigosa the way the Antichrist possessed Nero. The mob mentality, perfectly understood by this "former" gang "member". Of course he relates to group identities, rather than individuals. That's the very foundation of fascism. Syndicalism. Didn't you take Poli-Sci? Mussolini dealt with interest groups. It's the modern way. Tribes, dude -- it's the wave of the future.

And the guy who wrote a blog about his deathday. Went to his gym slash spa with a gun and killed as many women, women, as he could. Only a few. Then himself. Seems he couldn't get a date. Huh. I write a blog. I'm nearly 50. I had eh-hole older brothers. And I haven't been on a date since ... well, it's a little embarrassing. And I own a gun. But, despite all these powerful and compelling similarities, when I finally get my name in the papers it's not going to be for randomly murdering innocent bystanding females. I sort of like women. Not enough, apparently, to date, but even so. Even so, I bet traffic at his blog is way up.

Ugh. That was a mistake. I skimmed it, only. Cah ree pee. It's like kiddie porn. I've never seen kiddie porn, but it's like seeing something really dirty. Only because of how it ended. Otherwise, he might as well be a stupider, uglier, less prolix version of me.

That's what's dirty.

I'm deeply emerged in a project now, and just don't have the inclination to post. It's not a time thing -- I type fast. I'm focused, though, and that's where my attention is. As I said, I wrote the ending of my tragedy -- the ending that's already happened, not any future endings. That loosed things up for me. I won't be posting it. Very unlikely. But it's good for me, if not you. Sure, you'd just love to hear all about it. But it would make you feel dirty.

I'm getting the groove with training, bjj and cf. Two months back at it, and I don't expect to pull any more back muscles. Rolled with the tough guys this week, and I'm weak on getting submissions but I did surprise a few people. R of the Pointed Knee regretted going a little slower with me. I dominated position for ten minutes, had his back, face down, and that couldn't have been fun. But he escaped and eventually got me. Even so, I'm getting there.

I'm achy again, but it's not so bad. I'm right on the edge of too much. I'll be 50 in a few weeks, and I have a very good perspective on the whole thing, but I really do regret having started so late. Nothing to be done about it, but the fact is that age is a major factor now, a physical limitation, where it never was or would have been before. No regrets. I am content to strive for that level of excellence that is actually possible, for me in this body. Sadly, the greatest limitation is not physical, but ... emotional, mental, spiritual ... none of these are the right word. But the same lessons apply. Reality is what it is, and I will live with it.

So I have resigned myself to being alone for the rest of my life. I hope that I'm wrong -- it would be nice to have a family, a woman, sons, maybe a daughter. It's up to God, though. I see it as beyond my power. I know, don't say it. But the change in attitude is what's up to God. The way deciding, somehow -- finding the ... not resolve, courage, strength ... finding the ability to write the end of the melodrama created a change in attitude, in energy. God gives blessings. Perhaps he has another one for me. That would be nice. Beats the hell out of gunning down aerobics instructors in trendy fitness centers.

But apparently I know something the blogging fitness-center lady-killer didn't know. If you're an older guy and you want a young chick, you need to be either very charming, or rich. Posting yourself on Youtube isn't going to cut it. Or he could have blogged more. That's my plan. I can't expect God to do all the work.

My, how I've droned on. But stay tuned: who knows what other exciting and fascinating insights I might inspire you with.


J