Glamwire

Playman: Vicki Christina Barcelona

Cal Rhodes — Sat, 11 Oct 2008 19:03:00 +0000

Playman At The movies Later this weekend from Northampton Mass...Playman is leaf peeping..and enjoying a nice,hot cup of coffee....now...to the play:

The Scene and The Players

Juan and Juanita: Two sophisticated, hip, urban, young BULLFFIGHTERS, have just finished up a pair of chic, scenester packed bullfights at the Metropole del Toro in Barcelona, and are having a pair of Pastis at Brian McNalley's new Boite, Pastis Barcelona, nearby.

Juan: Just saw Vicki Christina Barcelona...

Juanita: Yeah...well saw it a week ago, at the Angelica Film Center in New York...My nephew Fritz had his Bar Mitzvah at Leonards in Great Neck, so I flew out there and I caught the flick in the city on the way to the airport.

Juan: It opened in Mid August....why the hell is it still playing?

Juanita: We'll get to that later, Juan.

Juan: Thank for your frank, crisp, candor, Juanita.

Juanita: You got it,guy.

Juan: I think its safe to say that one of the things the Woodman writes about is relationships.

Juanita: That's a safe bet Juan.

Juan: Wait a minute...I must take a break for luncheon.

Juanita: Let's take a Siesta.

Juan and Juanita have a thirteen hour luncheon that includes Sangria, lovemaking, and a brief nap. TBC

Sex with Susan

Cal Rhodes — Fri, 10 Oct 2008 17:47:00 +0000

A Legendary Sex Columnist, who has spent a lifetime empowering women and yes, helping gals learn how to have better orgasms, will be appearing here every Friday to help loosen up your weekend.

At the very bottom of her story is a link where you can find out all about her and her books, which include "The Orgasm Loop" and "The Sex Bible." She has written extensively for Cosmopolitan and Penthouse Magazines. In the future we will continue to provide various links so you can find out more about the woman we shall simply call "Susan." (She does have red hair).

Do You Like It Down And Dirty? by Susan
Doesn’t sex need to be at least a little bit dirty for some of us to enjoy it to the utmost? Yesterday I listened to a spokesperson for polyamory explain to me why he believes that having multiple partners with the permission of your main partner is by far the best way to live your sex life. Okay. Sure. I believe him in that it’s the best way for him to live his sex life. (But why the need to proselytize?) Personally, I come from the cheat-and-lie Old School of Monogamy. Illicit affairs. The sword of Damocles hanging over my head. Sex in the afternoon with a lover followed by giving Hubby the best blow job of his life that night. Ah, I still remember my first extramarital lover and the incredible orgasm he gave me as I lay fully dressed except for panties on top of a chenille bedspread in a Howard Johnson’s motel in downtown St. Louis. I was 29; he was 50. His tongue moved like a thousand butterflies swarming my clit….I still have a fondness for orange chenille.

Poly? No thanks. I hate talking about relationships; and if you try to create a set of relationship rules with me, I will break them. I do not want the details of my lover’s other lives. There is something too naked and wholesome, too bland and safe about that--like full-out Neo-Tantra with its emphasis on soul kisses and so forth. I want some artifice and the privacy that allows me. Sometimes I need to be fucked in black lace thigh-high stockings and pearls and nothing else. Or taken fully clothed from behind. Maybe I want to wear my stilettos to bed. I was never a Hippie.

My bedroom game is also somewhat submissive; and it’s not my life game. I want to be dominated by a lover right through the orgasms; and then, he needs to realize who I am in the world and respect that. A lot of men have trouble with the changing dynamic. Either they think I want BDSM. No. Or they cannot make the switch from bedroom to the rest of life.

I was Dick-matized for over a year by one of those men. He never got past the fact that he picked me up in a bar. But, that dick. (Dick-matized: the state of being so totally into the dick that you overlook the fact that the guy’s a jerk. Carlin Ross and I came up with the term when we were podcasting for her Cherrybomb site.)

I had an on-again/off-again, love-him/hate-him relationship with D. He is cosmopolitan, sophisticated, chauvinistic, virile, stylish--a complicated man, my type. We never exactly “met.” I know that I noticed him--and later he told me that he watched me--at a jazz bar in our neighborhood. In one year of mutually taking note of one another he said one sentence to me: “You’re trouble.”

One Saturday night in October I was at the bar with friends, a couple visiting from L.A. It was 2:30 a.m. The couple were tired and ready to go back to their hotel room. The temperature in the bar was uncomfortably hot. I took off my cashmere cardigan, glanced over at the bar and caught Big D’s eye. He smiled and came over to me.

“Would you like some champagne?” he asked--making that more than twice the number of words he‘d ever spoken to me.

He put out his hand. I took it and walked out the door with him to his apartment. There was no champagne that night.

While kissing me, he unzipped his pants. In his hand he held that dick, the one I sometimes think I dreamed into existence, so badly did I long for it. Long, thick and proud with its wide head rising like a nobleman separated from the powerful shaft by the ridge of the corona that was in my fantasy a rich gold necklace, the tribal emblem of the king. He had me.

“I don’t know your name,” I mumbled.

He laughed and said, “Of course, you do,” and took my hand and led me back to his bedroom.

No, I didn’t know his name at the time. But the sex, omigod the sex! Naked, he was beautiful, as he needed to be to possess that dick. He massaged my clit, parted the lips of my labia, licked the moisture to the surface. And then he entered me. He fucked hard and fast, slow and easy, alternating positions--him on top, then rolling to his side to pull me on top of him, finally half on our sides, one of my legs up in the air-- until I was dizzy, crazy. Then he drove it home.

“Suck my dick,” he said when he could breathe again.

I took it into my mouth for the first time and felt it throb thrillingly to life again.

“That’s your dick,” he said. “Suck it.”

And I did.

I lost a necklace in his bed that night, a necklace he never found. The push/pull dynamic started right away--on both sides. We came together, we pushed apart. He never respected me aside from my sexual abilities. But his dick. It is my fetish object. It is the life force. I thrilled to its contractions in my mouth, the taste and feel of his sperm shooting down my throat.

I came when I sucked his dick. Sometimes I humped his leg as I sucked, like a bitch in heat, and my moans were as loud as his.

We had booty calls with champagne and strings where there weren’t supposed to be strings but yet they stuck to us like that stuff children spray out of cans.

He called one night. I put on black lace-topped thigh highs and high heels. We drank wine and kissed and caressed on the leather sofa. He pulled my breasts out of the black lace push-up bra and sucked my nipples. I caressed his dick, held it in my hand.

He reached his arm behind me, tossed a big pillow down to the floor between his legs and pointed with one finger: down.

And I went down.

When I was finished with him, I put my breasts back inside my bra. Leaving him limp with his pants still around his ankles, I went home that night, never having removed my jeans. I felt like I owned him, at least for one night.

Things ended badly--around the time his dick was losing its hold on me. I did get my own back. Babes, I screwed him out of a business deal.

I wish that magnificent member a better life support system in the next reincarnation.

http://sexyprime.typepad.com

THE BLOG OF O-ROD :<Br> Ode to Yum Yum

Cal Rhodes — Thu, 09 Oct 2008 01:58:00 +0000

Olivia Maxwell continues her raw, from-the-heart journalistic stylings with "To The Heartbroken Pet Owner" right here....on Glamwire. Olivia and Yum Yum Share the Good Times.

June 6th 2008--Flint Hill,Virginia-- Yum Yum was a chow. A dog. She was 11 yrs. when a bear killed her from the property last night. We didn't notice till early this afternoon when she was not at my cabin, nor my dad's house. The bear previously had been killing baby deers and mauling through the trash. Personally I HATE bears and think they are useless evil animals. I am grief stricken and utterly shattered. My heart ache is deep and I have holes now deeper in my heart than ever before. I was terribly depressed last night and for no SPECIFIC reason. I felt truly alone. I posted it in a bulletin last night to prove it. I think I had intuitively picked up on what went on. I just hope it was not painful and the bear took her quick.

She was a light, a bright pure kind being emanating peace, harmony and the most sincere love I have ever known. I do not know who Jesus Christ is, or even God, but I did know Yum Yum. I will never be the same again.

June 6th, 2008.

4 Months later...Oct. 7th, 2008 almost to the day... I visit Virginia. I visit the places where Yum Yum had gone. I am alone as I walk through the 300 year old stone house. I hear the occasional car pass by. I see the dear walking through the morning frost. they don't fear me. The sky at night is crystal clear, the same black sky Yum Yum would serenely sit under for hours. I see a friend.I drive around admiring the countryside. Yum Yum used to sit shot gun in the front seat with her arm on the arm rest on the door, like a person, always looking out the window in wonderment. She observed more than most humans. I am still deeply distraught. if you are reading this and have never loved a pet then you should not be reading this because the sense of loss is so great that even I as a writer cannot comunicate this effectively.

I thought heartbreak was when a boyfriend would break up with me. or I would loose a friend or a job. Or someone said I had no talent or was not pretty enough or tall enough or whatever. NONE is these things matter. NONE. I would sit alone in my room with no friends and no boyfriend just to have my Yum Yum back. Our bond was unexplainable. She was the deepest, most empathetic, intelligent and loving, altruistic being I have ever known. Each day I took her for granted as somehow we think our beloved dogs do not die....then they do! What I mean by taking her for granted is that each day I was upset about something was time of joy taken away from just her and I. Things in life happen. Things good and bad. But this was the worst.

Yum yum came to me in dreams the first week of her death. i will not elaborate because it is very personal. I will say that they were not just dreams. I believe she, as enlightened as she was and still is, shown herself to me. She let me know she was actually elsewhere and very much at peace. She was sitting very happy and big as she always would. Yum Yum was a serene, very adored being in peace with nature. She loved and appreciated nature, I guess that's what makes it so hard for me, that the natural state she was in is what ultimately killed her in such an untimely way. After the week of her death, these dreams or communications from beyond stopped. I pray for her to come back into the dream realm, but I am not so lucky. It's beyond my control.

Everyone that knew Yum Yum did think she was a very special dog. She had a way of charming everyone. She was so beautiful. She was with me when I was ill, happy, angry, falling in love, writing songs, driving across country, heck she's been in more motel rooms then most people! She's seen the Grand Canyon, Times Square, the Mojave desert, the Golden Gate Bridge, the Atlantic Ocean, and been on movie sets! The funny thing is, she hated the camera. She shyed away from pictures, it was rare when she did,'t run from me when she heard the click of the camera! I would laugh, as she would sneak away! She sure did have a mind of her own.

I cannot stop crying. It's been four months. I do not believe grief should have a time limit. Grief comes from deep love. My devoted Yum Yum it's hard cause no one could replace you. I encourage all broken hearted pet owners to share. You all deserve it!!! --Olivia

London Glamspatch: <BR>By Sean "Super Pimp" Williams

Cal Rhodes — Wed, 08 Oct 2008 18:15:00 +0000

A painting of Ganesh on the wall of the Bedroom Bar in London. As we continue on the "Road To Ganeshpuri" one of Glamwire's most cherished film projects....maybe that road must pass through the Bedroom Bar. Hmmmm. And apparently there are comedians waxing comedically on level one. Hmmmm.

Bedroom Bar, Shoreditch, London by Sean Williams

LONDON--October 8th, 2008 --The Bedroom Bar, situated in Rivington Street, runs a finely-tuned precipice in east London between the bloated bankers of Old Street and their drainpiped boho compatriots creeping in from Shoreditch and Hoxton.

Happily, there’s something for everyone here- especially as the Bedroom carries the successful Comedy Café as its subterranean sister venue. Cheap pints-a-plenty for the hard-up, and a cocktail list to enliven even the most hardy HBOS punter mean this place is one of the few locations where suits and students can rub shoulders in drunken joy.

Add in the fervent Indian décor- inclusive of giant Ganesha- and the dimly-lit corridors and plush sofas here are more than conducive to a bit of hanky-panky. The great and the good from London’s underground chilled house and techno DJ echelons flock here Bedroom each weekend, too: music, cocktails and giant elephants- what more do you Want.
---Cheers From London, Sean

BEKI BIZZ: The notes of Beki "Pina Colada" Thomas

Cal Rhodes — Tue, 07 Oct 2008 15:40:00 +0000

”If you like PINA COLADAS.....”

WELL..I'm obsessed with them, and here's what I like to do.....try it!!

Whether you are with your best mate, on a casual date or just wanna gossip and people watch in Manhattan while drinking heaven in a glass on a budget, then I have the perfect thing to help kick off your afternoon.

It's a bit trashy but,....

.

... on the corner of St.Marks and 2nd Ave in the East Village, you will find the place where you can get a JUMBO pina colada for $7.99 and for an extra $1 you get a test tube shot of ...ah...something and together it makes one mutha flippin' recipe for talking shit and gorking at spunks (Hot boys) walking by ....it's like a meal or dessert

...DIVINE!!!!.. BUT !- beware- if you have more than two, you won't be able to walk...for two reasons...(drunk and FAT haha)... but trust me, it's worth it. Then...if you think mixing seafood in with pineapple juice and coconut milk is a good idea... you should really jump on the 'Hipster Express' (The L Train..I'll elaborate more on that later) on 14th and 1st Ave and get your ass to Williamsburg!..get off at Bedford Ave 'Hipsterville' (more on that later too).. then head to the Seafood place on Nth 6th near Bedford.

It's like being in Ko Samui in Thailand or some tropical paradise...HEAVEN!!!...with sand on the ground and fairy lights and rock /punk music blaring...a Tiki wonderland and a treat for your every sense....there's an outside area that I immediately wanted to book for my wedding reception when I saw it...(just gotta meet my husband to be yet haaaa)....and yes, if you like Pina Coladas WELL – they have em' !!!!!!!! yum..nice strong ones too mm m mmmmmmmmm... Oh and amazing fish n stuff AND these yummy sweet potato fries with a mayo dippy thing.

..OK, you may be feeling reeeeeallly sick by now, but if things are getting nice n rowdy and you wanna continue on to a bar with a band or 80's music or something?? WELL guess what? ! I HAVE THE PERFECT PLACE FOR YA!!!!!

It's called Otto's Shrunken Head Tiki bar and Lounge...yes, that's what I said..it's on 14th, B/W A & B.

Vincent, the guy that may greet you at the door is a Vampire oooooo- but he's cuddly and nice (shhhh don't say I said that)... This place is decked out in more Tiki shit (obviously)..there's booths and a cool bar to prop yourself up at, bands in the back room and the best mix of new wave pop, Madonna or whatever they might be playing..there's probably a horror movie on the screen in the background and the bartenders are most likely doing shots and crazy punk ass corry (choreagraphed dancing) behind the bar.

One weird thing I've noticed about Otto's though...is that they PUMP the air con (A/C) WAY too high and it's a bit freezing in there in the middle of summer..we did a show there and our drummer was rugged up in a jacket and scarf behind the drum kit.. BUT! Besides that, they make a mean, mean Mutha MUTHA of a you guessed it PINA COLADA. Seeya next week for Hipsterville and Turkey shakes!..and why are there so many beards in W/Burg and do us girls really like em' ????

Playman: The O. J. Play

Cal Rhodes — Mon, 06 Oct 2008 02:15:00 +0000

"If it twere done when twis done...."
The Scene: The Stage of The Sheridan Opera House, Telluride, Colorado, October 5th, 2008.

The Players: Older Playman, around 5’ 10”, strikingly fit, impeccably dressed, enters. The lights on his proscenium head are on. Younger Playman, about 4 feet 2 inches tall, also with a proscenium for a head, though this one is smaller. …enters and crosses over to Older Playman. They engage in dialog.

Younger Playman: You know, last November, I was at Shea, and I saw something I had seen before many times. It was snowing….the Buffalo Bills were playing the Jets…. and the ball was handed to Number 32. He ran to the right, the Bill’s line cut a hole in the Jet defense that looked like it could be from a scene cut from the 10 Commandments, and Number 32, OJ Simpson, arched his shoulders, and gracefully fluttered through that hole for eight yards in a way that no one ever ran with a football…and no one ever will again.

Older Playman: Wow. That’s heavy baby.

Younger Playman: Then something happened that I had not seen before….the scoreboard started flashing the number "2003”…..OJ Simpson had just rushed for over 2000 yards in single season…an unheard of feat...the first man to do so, shattering Jim Brown’s long held record for yardage in a single season.

Older Playman: He was one of the greatest athletes I’d ever seen. And you, young man, haven’t even seen any of the "Naked Gun" movies yet.

Younger Playman: That’s true…if you’ve ever seen those financial planning commercials where the young version of a guy is talking to an older version the same guy about his retirement nest egg…that’s what’s happening right now. For me…it's 1974…and yes, I’ve never seen a "Naked Gun" Movie.

OP: Well let me tell you…If no-one ever ran on a football field like the Juicester, nobody definitely ever ran though an airport carrying a briefcase like him….you never saw a Hertz commercial either, right?

YP: No…those, too, were after my time.

OP: Well, then you prolly never smoked crack with a well known crack trust-funder in Malibu, and you never heard that fellow tell you that he was using drugs heavily with OJ in the early 90s pretty much all the time.

YP: You know, sir, I can’t say I did. Though I did see Jill St. John smoking a joint in a tin hot tub with “Mr. Leisure” under this building about an hour ago…

OP: O. J. Simpson may be done. His conviction for armed robbery and attempted kidnapping may very well send him to jail for life…and what I came out here to say is that he took the sway of “that demon life” just a little too seriously.

YP: Elaborate, guy.

OP: His life really probably become cocaine, ecstacy, sex and golf….and the giant buzz the combination of those elements can create…a common combo in South Florida, yes, but OJ took it too far. I mean, after…after most likely killing his wife and her boyfriend, he went to South Florida, partied, got together with a stripper named Chirsty Prody, and allegedly definitely used drugs with her and many other strippers for like…years. In my day that just wasn’t what they called Yale material…

YP: I hear you. Wait…you mentioned something in there I didn’t quite understand….

OP:…and the reason that I’m writing this, is that what I constantly see in young people, and what I saw in myself at your age, is too much of a common emphasis on the desire to have a good time…look I’m not telling you not to have a good time… I am, you know, Playman…but being consumed by it is a mistake.

YP: Listen I have an appointment with “Mr. Leisure” and Jill St John…they’ re going to teach me how to start a fire with just a Spring Roll and a copy of Field and Stream magazine, and….

OP: If the greatest athlete in the world can be consumed and destroyed by that….

YP: I’m listening….um…maybe a little bit more carefully now…

OP: I remember being in Venice in a bar by the beach, hooked on Playdough, Serious in da hood Leisure, Pina Colodas with 151 rum and half-priced sushi happy hour at Chaya Venice…and I remember seeing a white Bronco on the tv in the bar, and a guy saying “At this moment…OJ Simpson is a fugitive from justice…” this was the moment that the entire world realized that maybe, just maybe…the jury got it wrong, and OJ did kill his wife and Ron Goldman.

YP: What? ….what are you talking about?….you were just talking about "Naked Gun 4" and Yale…and…what?

OP: Yeah…that’s what I’m talking about…and I’m not even going to try to make a "Naked Gun 4" joke….

YP: Hey…you’re kidding me… (Young Playman would begin to tear up…but he doesn’t have a face).

OP: No, I’m not kidding you. So I am out here saying that maybe, just maybe , a good time can be had without Cocaine and Strippers.

YP: Look...ok...that’s categorically untrue!

OP: I’m learning that its not, my fren….have you heard “Gator Country” by Molly Hatchet?

YP Also after my time… so you came out to say that a good time can be had without Cocaine and Strippers…Know Yourself, Take It Easy Baby, try not to let a good time be destructive to you and your work ethic, which suffers enough anyway, what with the new season of The View and also Gossip Girl, find Molly Hatchet online and cool it with the Tabasco sauce, right?

OP: Right.

YO: Bravo, sir!

OP : You got it, guy.

YP: Look Playman…next time try not phoning it in.

OP: So far, I’m at the bottom of a abandoned mine shaft in the hills above Telluride…and I’m actually Telexing it in….but I’m just warming up.

CURTAIN

Playman Returns

Cal Rhodes — Sun, 05 Oct 2008 17:32:00 +0000

On January 23rd, 2000, in the small mining and ski town known at Telluride Colorado, at a newspaper that was, and is, in fact, called "The Daily Planet" a creature emerged from an abandoned mine shaft 14,500 feet above sea level, at a spot called Ajax Point. That creature had been born without a human head. Nay, his head was sort of a proscenium, with 18 quaint light bulbs surrounding it, and a colorful western motif miniature mural as its curtain.

Today, Playman claims to be most pleased and delighted about the way that he looks. "Hey....you people have to resort to 'face painting' and all sorts of other crap to get 'lit up'. What's up with that?" After a falling out with Daily Planet editor Bob Beer, at the 2001 Blues and Brews Fest in Telluride, at which it was discovered that Playman could not drink beer, or anything else...because he did not have a mouth.....Playman disappeared, some say back into the old mine shaft up on Ajax Mountain.

Today, here on Glamwire, he will reappear for he first time since September 3rd 2001, the day which marked the publication of his last piece in the Daily Planet, about a Telluride Film Festival film that was by the Coen brothers and was called "O Brother Where Art Thou?" We may not know where our brother Playman is today, physically,...but his agents, Benjamin Williams and Alan Rosenberg, have contacted us from downtown Telluride, specifically from the Wintercrown building on 100 Colorado Avenue, and they tell us we will soon be Telexed, thats right, Telexed, a first column, which we hear will be neither about a play nor a movie. When we get that column we assure it will appear right here, on Glamwire.

Investment Banker For Hire: The Oracle of New York

Cal Rhodes — Sat, 04 Oct 2008 18:23:00 +0000

You may have seen the investment banker Josh Persky on one of the tens...maybe hundreds of news pieces done about him...as the MIT grad hits Wall Street handing out his resume looking for work...wearing a sign saying "Experienced MIT Grad for Hire" hanging over his suit jacket. We believe his story itself is kind of an economic barometer, and certainly one that can reflect on the trajectory of thousands of out of work bankers in New York City. So we will present, once a week, the "Oracle of New York, " from Josh's blog, which is syndicated here by permission, and which can be seen daily at www.oracleofny.com

Here is the first installment.

Goldman Sachs, GE and the Oracle of Omaha
By Josh Persky (Currently in Omaha.)

The Oracle of Omaha (Warren Buffet) has added Goldman Sachs and GE to his trophy room, the Bailout Bill has passed the Senate, and I had a productive interview in Omaha. Is the worst of the storm passing?
I received the following email from a fellow MIT alumni:

I went to M.I.T.back in the '70s and am in a similar pickle: out of work. (I haven't tried your approach, but I am thinking about it.) Anyway, I thought I'd let you know (if you don't know already) that your picture with the sandwich board appeared in a Chinese newspaper, dated September 7. I'll be happy to send you the tear sheet, if you don't already have it. _Good luck on your job search. My heart goes out to you. I lost my position (as a speechwriter) last January....I am older than you and am having a very hard time.... _Best wishes ( out of work MIT grad)

For an upcoming interview, I was asked to provide the typical steps used to produce a valuation of a bank loan to a private company: 1. Gather and review financial and legal documentation. 2. Note key loan parameters, such as: interest rate, maturity date, type of loan (bullet or amortizing), first or second lien, financial covenants, up-front and other fees, pre-payment penalty. 3.. Note key financial performance parameters: EBITDA, income, margins, cash flow, balance sheet (historic, current, projected). 4. Analyze key financial ratios: leverage, interest coverage, loan to value. 5. Perform synthetic credit rating on company and DCF analysis on loan. 6.. Compare company to publicly traded similar companies. 7. Compare loan to publicly traded similar debt instruments. 8. If the company is distressed, determine the value of its assets. If the company is in bankruptcy, determine probability and timing of recoveries.

Glamwire Fall 08 #1

Cal Rhodes — Fri, 03 Oct 2008 16:14:00 +0000

THE BLOG OF O-ROD

Cal Rhodes — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 18:00:00 +0000

The Sterilization of Civilization
By Olivia Maxwell

We live in the modern world. The modern era past volumes of operetta's, albums, comics, wars, revolutions, political triumphs, civil rights, technological advancement, and medical breakthroughs. It's 2008 and we might be on verge of electing a black president; quite a tribute to the late Martin Luther King Jr. We fly private, we dry our hair, nail polish drys in minutes and we've landed on Mars. But guess what! Guess what guys! WE HAVE STOPPED COMMUNICATING. I am not referring to the media, they somehow have become the exclusive elite that gets away with this natural expression.

It's a problem on a social, romantic and cultural level. I had a crush on a guy. Or you can say he had a crush on me. There was a courtship of some sort, two nights of lust over two months. We as a collective, enjoyed it immensly. There were little whimpy text messages(which are a very pussified way of speaking non directly) exchanged and a phone call a week, maybe two. It dissolved. Not sure why. My point is, it does not matter why, because of the lack of communication, you would never know the difference. He could be madly in love, pining, tortured, or he could hate you. Who knows! Who cares! Your friend doesn't, cause she's too busy worried about her own parrallel story having just taken place. And the nonsensical fucking torment that goes along with it, and the little TEXTS, "Oh, he messaged me today! He said, "What's up!" Wow! Iam drooling over two words! Wow! two fucking words out of the entire English language! Shakespeare folks is rolling in his grave.

To mention Shakespeare, Yeats, Shelley, Joyce, Bukowski, Oats just to name a few have contributed volumes of their tremendous brains and whit paving the advancement of expression and socialization. We have broken through stereotypes in the sixties and through the great musical achievements been able to share in our love, lust, joy, sorrow and anguish. Words, the English language was invented friends for a reason. We are in the modern era and have arrived to a dead halt at disregarding our literary fellows and Van Goghs of our past. We must pay homage and continue the art of communication and feeling or else over the last three hundred years or so, since the cave paintings in Lascaux, France, WHAT WAS THE POINT?

I highly doubt if there was another Jim Morrison, or Janis they would have never been heard of because on their very first performance they would have been thrown out of the bar.

I was thrown out of a bar recently in the oppressed, materialistic state of New Jersey at a well known popular corporate owned chain restaurant because I was QUIETLY discussing politics. The bartender was having a blast agreeing with me, whilst the head bartender was getting NERVOUS. I was subtly asked to stop speaking politics and so was the nice charming bartender I was speaking with and asked to leave. NEED I SAY MORE. I am speechless, and if you are a savvy cat, I do not need to expand on this subject. CNN was on the TV above the bar feeding us all this information, as we are constantly fed, but how dare we react.

"Fatal Atraction" starring Glenn Close and Michael Douglas was a popular film in the 1980's. It was a culture bomb on all relationships. "Play Misty for me," starring Clint Eastwood also did not help. I believe there are films which contribute to culture and some which hurt, even damage social awareness, actually pervert. So now instead of writing the guy a two word text message, call him on the telephone and tell him the most natural, honest romantic thing you can say from the heart, " I have been thinking of you all day!" and he'll either think you are are a stalker, or completely insane. Well, it was not like this when our parents fell in love in the 60's or 50's. And they thought that was an oppressed era! Ha! We are so Goddamn oppressed with the aid of all this technology, cyberspace, and cell phones that people almost feel encroached upon, having 24/7 access to almost anyone you've ever known! I won't make it that easy! Us Homo Sapiens are passionate by nature, unless we are drugged or not in touch and we NEED to express ourselves. It is OUR fault, not technology. We have accepted a laissez-faire irresponsible unshaped approach of communication. We have become an America devoid of passion and fearful to express anything. What are we waiting for? Another crisis? Are we waiting till after we are dead?

I was in Dublin, Ireland a year ago. I hit it off with a guy. I was going to meet him on the Quays near a night club( a bridge over the river). When he met up with me, he walked up to me very happy with a smile on his face. He then in his excitement to see me, lifted me up and twirled me around. I remember this as one of my favorite moments over the last ten years. It was spontaneous, uncalculated and FREE!

There is only one life. We need to enjoy it. We need to be more free. We have become in this America an oppressed land of pussies who cannot be bold and unedited. We might offend the other person of might "look weird." well bring it on people. Be bold. Take risks, be human. Tell me you love me, be free, in the land of???