cellini's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- And also the Rehab chick I just re-watched the final episode of Stranger Things. Note that Hob wears a baseball cap in the final scenes which has Navy "scrambled eggs" on the brim without any ship or rank indicated. I think that this shows what happened to him after he was delivered to the Alaskan coast and picked up by the US military. He's been honored with a cap with the trappings of a senior officer, but without the traditional name of the ship on top, to preserve security. Like being given a breveted rank in the army in the 19th century. I think this has been totally missed by media writing about the show. I have around $14,000 in the bank, which is more money than I have ever had at once ever under my own control. I have an application in for an apartment in Richmond that I may find out about tomorrow, and which will probably cost me around $5,000 to secure in total deposits if I get it. Then I have to buy or make all of the furniture for it. I'm accidentally sort of dating this total mess of a nice lady in Richmond who lives a block from the Gwar Bar. She's technically a year older than me. Her face looks ten years older, though she still has the body of the ballet and gogo dancer that she was. A recovering alcoholic and I'm pretty sure former heroin addict who was just back in rehab last month. She's a therapist, of course. From Seattle, was there for Nirvana, lived in London during jungle, overall really cool and she has an MFA in art history in addition to the PhD in psychology. We've had three dates. The latest one involved me fucking her standing up in front of the big window that would have been part of a storefront except that her place is now an apartment instead of the two-room business that it was built for. Her Boost mobile phone plan lapsed for a few days and her car just got repossessed. I'm dating her out of sheer loneliness. I just want someone to come with me thrift shopping and for concerts and dinner. She's there and she shows up, at least when she isn't in rehab. And she's smart, but has this tic in her speech where she does this 'hmmmh' or 'eehhhh' thing every few syllables for no useful reason. I could never take this mess to meet my family. Alex wants to go to Richmond with me this Saturday and I've said yes without actually rearranging any plans. My 15 year old son has stuff he wants to do, but I think I can work around it. I'm going to immediately make out with her. I'm going to fuck her again. She looks like Winona Rider at the same age right now. She's gorgeous. I will take one look at her and immediately start kissing her, in spite of knowing what a bad idea that is. I have no faith whatsoever in her ability to actually break up with her abusive girlfriend. There is a part of me that would still definitely run off with Alex forever, but I know now that I'm just a vacation from hell to her. She doesn't have the stones to really leave. Then there's this silly woman in the mix. I met her on the Rivanna river trail and she left her card for her massage business on my car window. She has some whole big deal running men's empowerment groups, and doing equine massage (I swear that I am not making this up), and she's working on a book about sex and understanding horses for a publisher that she can not name. We met up for dinner the other night. She's pretty, but kind of full of shit. We left it at 'she has my number,' and I don't really care much either way whether she texts me. She probably has a TED talk on the way and I am so over that phase of my own life. If I get this apartment, then I am a real human being again. In that place, which I can make wonderful through the art collection which I have been painstakingly building, I can invite all sorts of nice people I meet to dinner. When my son is with his mother for a week at a time, I can fuck the array of fun, arty, gothy women that Richmond has to offer. Or maybe just Alex. The original, fun, arty, gothic chick whom I crushed on since I was 14. Showing up behind her asshole girlfriend's back. Look, in spite of how this all might sound, I just want one woman to come home to. One sane, fun woman who will go to concerts with me, and thrift stores, and museums, and restaurants, and let me cook for her, and snuggle in bed on Sundays. It turns out that this is really hard to make happen. If Alex could just fucking commit and make a change in her life. Get a job in nursing that doesn't depend on her ex?girlfriend scheduling her for private appointments with wealthy clients We haven't seen each other in months, and we're supposed to drive to the Apple Store and then go have fun at nightclubs and restaurants like everything is fine. I think either she makes a big decision or this is the last splash, with a load of my cum inside of her while she gets into her stupid blue pickup truck and drives away. I'm working part-time for a qu@ntum-safe cryt0graphy company. They pay me $4k a month for a nominal 20 hours a week or work against some huge retainer that they have paid to a crisis PR firm. The new marketing director couldn't get me on board in the budget for the new quarter, but wants to hire me for probably around $90k plus benefits next cycle. This is enough to make ends meet and get a lease, but I really need to get fully hired soon. Meanwhile, I realize that I am making as much in a nominal 20 hour week as most Americans do in over 40. Having a basic knowledge of qu@ntum computing and a lot of experience in journalism and science communication turns out to be really valuable. I have so much shit to write and edit and manage tomorrow whenever I wake up. I wrote up a blog and social media plan for a conference that the company spent $16k to attend and it is like pulling teeth to get these people to cooperate with making a few postings and sending some photos to work with. Alex has failed to show up for our last dozen or so scheduled meetings. But I still have this stupid hope that she'll show up for our trip to Richmond on Saturday afternoon, and it won't just be to fuck, and she'll go home and kick Lindsay out, and we'll live happily ever after. I'd like to keep going to shows with the rehab chick, because she's a really great person. Right now it seems like the only way that I can interact with her is via constant texting and getting her off. I don't know how to transition to just hanging out and appreciating her as a person without putting my dick in her. My cock is about 6 and a half inches long and about as thick as a roll of Kennedy half dollars, if you know what those look like, which I barely do because I'm not a boomer. I am pretty happy with it. If I was offered, say, either a thousand dollars or an extra inch of either length or girth, I would take the thousand dollars. It's long enough to hit the cervix in most women, and thick enough to offer vaginal satisfaction while anal sex is still at least an option. Also really fucking handsome. Veiny, proud. My balls are unusually large and the whole package should have been painted by a renaissance master. There are hand and foot models. Erect, I think I could be a cock model. I have a beautiful penis. While rebab chick exclaimed, "you have a really nice cock!" after taking it out of her mouth for the first time, and the overall feedback has been very good, I don't think that my dick is why women who have spent time with me want to keep spending time with me. Alex likes who she is when she is with me. She likes that I ask her about 19th century painters whose work I don't recognize. She likes that I ask her what is that Leonard Cohen song that she referenced. She also likes that I know that a running foot of plumbing should drop an inch and a two by four framed wall should be framed at 16 inches on center. I'm not fucking around when I say that I have an astounding education. I've completed the equivalent of a Masters in invasive biology, documentary film, and American history. I have also worked in and keep up in the literature on Pleistocene ecology, forest entomology, and quantum computing. After two books, several films, hundreds of articles, a house that I hammered every nail into, and now a career in quantum that pays really well, why is there not a nice lady who wants to show up in my life and wake up at around 11 am and shop for silver-plated dinnerware with me and go to brunch and snuggle in front of Antiques Roadshow? What else do I have to do? I killed a bear with a knife. I faced down neo-nazis in the park on 8/12 in Charlottesville. I have a nearly-complete collection of silver, minus a few soup bowls and plates. Why is it so hard to find someone who wants to wake up with me? I think that I just need to get out of Ch@rlottesville. Moving to Richmond is what I need, even if Alex follows me. 3:16 a.m. - 2022-09-16 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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