A brief spike in traffic

For 3 days running I had over 100 views to the site, akin to a miracle.  I’m not that interesting, so it must’ve all been for recent Jeopardy! contestant Rachel Lindgren.

It’s my duty to warn you thirsty nerds AGAIN that smart women are not a solution to anything and being a sapiosexual is a road to nowhere.  If she’s smart while you’re enamored (subtract 25 IQ points for each boob and asscheek) you’re in QUADRUPLE the danger of being manipulated.  Not that I overly give a shit what happens to you, you’re probably better off than me.

I believe this blog is now 10 or 11 years old, which means little because I rarely posted after 2009, was it?  It has brought me neither joy nor grief, certainly no money or gavina.  I don’t read my own shit so I’ve forgotten most of it, except to remember impassioned movie reviews about Batman (pointless) or politics (far more pointless) and cussing out my wage slave job while doing nothing to improve my lot in life.

Two things happened in the last 5 years which changed the entire arc of my  inclinations, I got out of the shit job and I “discovered” whores.  Also, my father died  at 73 of natural causes, if you count lung cancer as natural.

The whores saved my life.  Once I was getting laid fairly regularly all the Mysteries of Womanhood evaporated, which was bittersweet, but poetry is either written out of your system or it burns you from the inside out like drinking bleach.  Poetry IS drinking bleach, usually for the reader. 

The women’s humanity made me less of a misogynist, and it even seemed a few of them enjoyed the ride beyond getting paid.  (I haven’t been laid in over a year due to health problems so that’s on pause.)

I’m closer to 50 than 40 now.  I’m not better than I was in 2006, but like to think I’ve learned much the last 10 or 11 years.  I wouldn’t trade my scant “life’s work” of writing for falling in love.   

Here are the final lines from a long ago poem.

I know it’s coming, death or a balloon.

The slitted eyes of a petted cat.

Fun with Dentistry on my day off (again)

Heaven from every side is closed.

–Mother Teresa

I thought it was going to be a routine dental check-up and was dead wrong. It was Deep-Tissue Cleaning Day and the festivities began with six (fucking SIX) Novocain shots. With fillings done over the past 3 visits I thought I was through with all that…I was more upset my eyeteeth had been blinded with an ugly surprise than the actual needles.

The needles, as always, were hot.

I didn’t see God, just a poster with idiot multicultural models smiling in support of a teeth-whitening procedure. In the Age of Photoshop how could anyone trust such a thing?

The most painful aspect was the dentist delivering the goods. He was younger than me and looked like a handsome pilot right out of Top Gun, the other Alpha-Hunk archetype that women fantasize about when the bare-chested, long-haired horse- and motorcycle-riding rebel is off being rebellious.

“Sorry about this,” Gun said sincerely as the needle plunged. A hot tear welled up in my right eye, not from pain but from imagining he was apologizing for life so far and not the endless wasp sting in the roof of my mouth.

Even remembering Bukoswki (“People’s mouths were even uglier than their assholes.”) didn’t help.

Top Gun left for good after the shots and I stopped feeling like a helpless 10-year-old with a go-nowhere paper route.

The pleasant Filipina who’d been my main girl did the cleaning. She worked free of judgment but I felt embarrassed all the same. How bad was the damage that my teeth had to be numbed to get to the problem areas?

An hour later I was at the front desk waiting to pay (this time with money, not pain) when the Filipina snapped to and with wide eyes said, “I forgot to do something!”

I had to go back to the chair, where she applied gel to my gums with a long Q-tip.
“This will ease the soreness when the numbness wears off.”
“Gimme two.”
“Don’t brush or floss tonight. Don’t eat anything hot, temperature-wise.”

At the supermark I bought a lottery ticket, shrimp and deviled eggs. It would be awhile till I smiled again, like 2011.