First thing

First thing you should know about me is that for most of my life I have been a New Yorker and in a little more than a month, I will have to relocate, but I’m still not sure where. So here I go. Off to a new adventure! I do not go by choice but by expedience. But this does not lessen my joy or hope. Many people have one life. From birth to death, one continuum. It is both my blessing and my curse that I have have had 4 lives. One life led me up until college. One life led me from my College years from the home of my birth to NYC. One life which has been the longest so far, led me through the travails of NYC into marriage and fatherhood. If given the chance, I would have stayed in that last life and whithered, grown old and if I was lucky grown a bit more wise, and then died, my most significant accomplishment having been having a role in the birth of two children. But this was not to be. My wife had other ideas, my divorce is almost complete. And now as an old man not as healthy as I would like, I will soon depart NYC for my new adventure. Buy a van, pack some clothes and a toilet, find a way to not die in a traffic accident, and take to the road which leads to who knows where. I will put a bit of lamb’s blood on the door. Then I will go.

I had imagined this before. At some point in the not-so-distant past, I had a fantasy about moving toward the Latin section, finding a girl and a job and learning Spanish. That could have been the basis for a whole novel right there. And still other things could happen and I won’t rule any of it out. I could take the train to the beach today like I’ve intended, I could play music on the boardwalk like I’ve intended and start a band and start a whole new music career where I could become the famous and even rich. Or I could go for a swim and meet a girl who will change my life. Do you notice a theme here so far? These things could happen. I do not rule them out.

In the course of my life, I have been lucky about a few things. I am lucky that my body is not falling apart more than it is, given how poorly I have treated it right up until middle age and past that. I have somehow failed to make many friends in my long stay in NY. I have some friends who live elsewhere, but if I moved in next door, then we’d just have to see how close we really were. I just recently wrote down all of my latest history and sent it to all of my blood relatives, but got little response.  I can’t say this is less than very disappointing. The natives here are already tired of me and don’t understand why I don’t get on with it and move away already. Another creature could throw in the towel and say it’s just too much feeling all alone and wonder “what is the point?”, and perhaps even decide to end it. But I am lucky, I suffer from delusions.

Despite how lonely I may feel I now go off even under perhaps less than ideal circumstances into the let us say “the wild blue yonder”. And it’s good that I have talked myself into the proposition that I am not alone. In fact, there are world’s unseen and unknown that even if I tried I could only hope to get a glimpse. Still I am compelled to acknowledge, that I am protected by everything I own, do or say. Someone might call me a privileged white male. Broke and in poor health, it’s true. And really without that much of a clue as to what to do next. But privileged nevertheless. One might say I have actually been very lucky. And I wonder everyday why I become so angry, mostly about little things. And I try to count my blessings at every turn. We are all luminous beings. I am constantly surrounded by love. Did I say already that I suffer from delusions?

Still, it seems that the loneliness issue must be addressed. I am after all a sentient being. I did not create the current situation, but even so I am forced to live with it. Some days the day just fills up with mundane chores. In some ways, these are the good days, at least they are simpler, and not plagued by someone else’s idea of the process commanding the things they think I must do next. But chores are not enough for me. I want more. For one thing I want is pussy, though I can’t really say why. I’m at an age when it really shouldn’t matter who I have sex with, but having considered the options, while I won’t rule anything out, something deep inside me is not all that attracted to males and although I would prefer to not suffer all of the details, I find I still like girls and god help me I like pussy. In fact, I’ve been told that if I have committed any great crime so far while on earth it has been my lack of appreciation for pussy that near tops the list. And now I am in fact commanded to like it, to lick it, eat it, fuck it and worship it. Did I say already that I suffer from delusions? It’s true that I have expended a great amount of energy and time in this regard in the past, but I focused too much on attainment while love and appreciation was never the top of my list. And now, seems like I have a bunch of decisions to make, but I would prefer to leave it open. If I could, I would like to love pussy without many of the social trappings of dating and niceities. So to accomplish this goal, I have decided to not give a shit, and instead focus on my own famousness and privilege and work toward how people will remember me in some 100 years from now.

I will have to leave NYC by the end of September. I will miss this city though I’ve always had mixed feelings about it. I could surmise this just by saying that it’s a funny place, though truth be told my perspective is a bit rusty since I’ve lived here so long. Perhaps the whole country, the whole world is a funny place right now. It’s true that time has passed since I first moved here. Still this does not discount that NYC is a funny place. Perhaps not funnier than all the rest, but funny nevertheless. Of course, by funny I do not mean funny ha ha, I mean funny strange. But why do I say that? By outward appearance it is no funnier than the rest. It has like the rest of the country an aging infrastructure. Still at the time NYC became a city it fostered the idea of a public transportation system which to it’s credit it still maintains. And yet, this too came about in a usual sort of way, that the original subway was built to make money and competing companies did compete for ridership. This is one reason why many stations simply do not connect. But to it’s credit the subway lines continue on. It’s hard to understand how this mass of tunnels, bridges and stations were built in the first place. One wonders if life and labor were that cheap then. It is almost impossible to imagine building something this labor intensive today. One thinks we simply couldn’t. Or it would take so long and be so expensive that it would die in the planning stages before anyone would even give it a try.

But the mass transit system is not why I say that NYC is a funny place. The mass transit system makes NYC rather unique although it is not uncommon and mass traqnsit has been built in other cities. But the majority of the work was done before the accension of the automobile and this made it both possible and desirable at the time, but this is not why I call NYC a funny place. NYC is a funny place for many reasons. People still seem to come here because they want to make it as something here, usually either in entertainment or business. It seems this is at least one reason why they still come or it’s always possible that the rest of the country has gotten so devoid of meaning and jobs that people still come here for that as well. New York is a funny place and being a New Yorker is still somehow a badge of honor. We put up with a lot. Long waits for the train to get home, expensive and substandard housing, the idea that poor people playing music to earn just a little money is one of the perks, claiming the badge of honor of being a New Yorker by putting up with a lot of shit is somehow one of the perks.

Where I live, they did a substandard renovation but in doing so gave some eye candy to the younger transplants. I have to give the landlord here some credit in doing something better than I’ve seen other landlords do. In NYC it’s all part of a complex dance. If a landlord can claim his apartments have been renovated he can charge more money. And all of the newer people pay a premium meant to make up for the older residents who might have been in the building for years in unrenovated apartments and might be paying much less in rent. Accordingly the landlords are bound to try to renovate everything that they can. They are in business, not for fun but to make money. I do have to give my current landlord a little credit for doing slightly more than the bare minimum. I have seen worse. Still what they have done is provide the cheapest of everything. I personally have nothing against frugality but this translates into cheapness being equal to low quality. Things like refrigerators, stoves, and bathrooms are not designed to last or be repaired. They are designed to be broken and then thrown away.  Work is not done to the highest standard, but done to be the least expensive often neglecting levels of skill and procedure. A personal complaint I had early in my residence here was that the toilets sprayed water each time they were flushed. Ultimately I was told that this could not be fixed which I think was more the supers’ poor understanding of mechanics and the cheapness of the vendor rather than being the truth. I was also told that I was the only one who complained even though many other toilet installations had the same problem. NYC is a funny place and people are willing to put up with a lot and not complain about it, perhaps involved in wanting to wear that honorable badge of being a true NewYorker. This is just one reason I call NYC a funny place.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

Guess what? You are my deepest confidant.

My story is ….

Some guidelines and disclaimer. 

I reserve the right to be unabashed and to cover difficult topics. I will get very personal about anything from the color of my latest bodily fluid, to the size of my biggest orgasm, with who, how many? What drugs did we take? How much did we drink? Or maybe how bad my own urine or poop smells in the tent. Or then a rush to the bathroom. To have sex with whom? To kiss and snuggle what? Or just get there before it’s too late. Well you get the idea. Pretty gross stuff. Disgusting. Not for the weak of heart. Not for any of you tree loving liberals. Not for any of you me-first freedom fighters.. Not for any of you who give money to both parties, cynical fuck, idiot, cunt, dick, asshole. Well you get the idea. None of this is for the faint of heart. 

This site isn't just about sex but it is about getting older, being single again in my sixties and perhaps having some physical problems and things that just happen as one gets older.

By proceeding you are not only telling the world that you are not a robot, but also that you actually like reading this stuff. You will have to sign in and all of your friends will know, and ultimately you will be forced to comment, rate this site, and send me money. In the end you will feel as degraded as I have felt. The only thing I can hope to guarantee is the there will be no outright gratuitous violence among consenting adults, and that means that no animals will be harmed now or in the future. But other than that, well, you have been warned.

By clicking OK, I certify that I am of relatively sound mind so to speak and that I have read and think I understand this content disclaimer.