in the seemingly darkened tower above the lab
Posted by William F. DeVault | Filed under Humour, Journal
Just because you do not hear the sounds, it does not mean they are not being made. Just because you do not feel the wind, it does not mean it isn’t blowing. Just because you cannot see the light, that does not mean it is not there.
I am at work, on so many things at once I feel like my head will explode. Moving from half-finished golem to half-finished golem like a hummingbird on crank. I remember in the novel Logan’s Run, the drug called "muscle" would work fine on a young person, giving them unbelievable strength and speed, but on an adult would rip them apart, as their bodies could not contain and control the energy it produced. There are moments where I feel like that in my head.
I am fine, having fun, basking in the radiance of creation (it is a joy unto itself), trying to find the path amid the chaos. It is there, the seam between the cell membrane walls that slip along each other and imprison me (or so they think).
A friend of mine who has been celibate of late informed me she got a date for Saturday night, a guy she likes whom she knows she can have if she wants him (I didn’t want to explain to her that most men are pretty easy, I didn’t want to hurt her feelings). I gave her a list of things to do and to avoid to make the date (date? no, I think that is over-romanticizing what her plans are) successful:
- Wear clothes, to avoid appearing over-anxious or desperate (although many guys would just consider this a simplification, lacking the opposable thumb awareness necessary to unhook a bra with one hand (I could write a book on that topic and it would outsell all my poetry books combined)).
- Avoid licking his tonsils on the first kiss. Some guys are turned off by too-aggressive females. Wait until later in the date.
- If he gets so drunk he forgets you name, that’s a bad sign. If he gets so drunk he forgets his own name, that’s a really bad sign. If you get so drunk you forget his name, your name and where you are, he won’t probably care, although he may ask you not to throw up on him so much.
- Wear protection, even if you are damn sure of his health condition. Kevlar, preferred. Little metal spikes enhance the effect.
- Screaming my name during climax might rattle him a bit, so try to avoid it. If you don’t recall his name, just scream loudly enough to permanently traumatize the cat. He’ll think he’s a God. Or, just moan "Oh God"…he doesn’t have to know that’s my old nickname from college (Tom Peters gave it to me, it stands for "Good Old DeVault").
- Up to a point, giving parts of the body pet names is cute. Up to a point. Names to avoid for his body parts: Pee Wee, Tiny, Dangler and the name of any former boyfriend he knows about. Of course, if you wait until he’s drunk, he won’t notice.
- Note any prison tattoos he might be sporting. These could be a warning sign, or a turn on. Or a way to identify him later in a lineup.
- If he keeps calling you "Baby" he may have forgotten your name. Or he may be an extreme pedophile.
- Repeat after me: Clean underwear. Clean underwear. Clean underwear.
- We do not need to know the details. Besides, stopping in mid-act to blog about it might rattle his confidence and ruin his rhythm.
These apply to everyone, I would assume.
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