I'd Buy the Moon For You
I fell in love with Edgar Allan Poe many years ago while taking a swim at Jennifer Jason Leigh's house. The Cask of the Amontillado, The Black Cat, Fall of the House of Usher and The Tell-Tale Heart are among my favorites.
I have a fondness for fishnets because they are sexy and practical if you ever get stranded on a raft.
I think you're beautiful and I'd be excited to listen to your ideas, share laughs and kiss you until your toes smoked. I did the corporarte thing for many years too. It's not who I am. I'm a man with an ass that's as beautiful as a tigress taking down a gazelle in full stride.
I think we could have something here, do you go for cerebral hunks who don't complain and enjoy seeing their loved ones happy?
If so, write me back and we'll start a whirlwind romance in a whirlwind jacuzzi when the Santa Anas are blowing and the dry heat makes your body tingle.
Sweetly,
A
- posted on 02/24/2007
Jewish marriage is a form of S & M. Love is a euphemism.
While your allure is almost palpable through your eyes, I don't fancy myself cleaning your toilet with my tongue. Call me "old-fashioned", but I still believe in two people finding happiness together. It doesn't have to follow traditional boundaries, but there should be a balance.
Maybe I'm evolving and will end up as your toe master. I know I'd be very happy kissing you all over and sexy lingerie just sends me. But, there are human underneath and a connection of the mind can be beautiful too.
I wouldn't mind being involved as your boyfriend. I wouldn't tell you how to lead you life. That's purely your decision. But "Slave #3" lacks a certain appeal for me. I'd like to kiss you and hold you.
Sweetly,
A
- posted on 02/24/2007
Maya, you're a hard person not to think about. You're like a chocolate ¨¦clair for fat people. The thought is always there. You're exciting, fresh and magnetic.
I'm in a similar situation - I have quiet, but, since I'm financially fine, it's hard not to find a thousand other things to pursue. Besides, in television you're dealing with morons so the writing is one thing and dealing with zero imagination on the buyers' end is another.
I look forward to hearing from you. Kind of get all tingly when I see there's a message from you waiting for me. It excites me.
Be well, my sweet.
A.
- posted on 02/24/2007
Fair Maya,
You definitely know how to spin a web. You are completely original and your self-confidence is an aphrodisiac. I don't meld well with traditional thinkers. Yet, I still believe love, tenderness and undying loyalty are components of relationship.
I will always be honest with you and I want you to know I've never been with a woman who presents so many possibilities. Love is about tearing down boundaries without adhering to the small ideas of the masses.
I know the pleasures you offer are unique. I want to know more. I want to hear your views on everything from philosophy to eating ice cream off of each others bodies. I want to know every inch of your body from in between your toes to the curves of your ears. I want a map permanently etched in my mind.
I'm over the stalkers. One woman didn't have the money to see an eye doctor and I provided it. The other had a need to prove her cleverness to me. There wasn't a great deal of black or white magic involved.
I already know you cast a spell on men without even batting an eye. You have a charisma and magnetism that cannot be explained.
I'd like to write a book on your body and spend my time re-reading it over and over again.
But, at this point, gazing deeply into each other's eyes, holding your hand and kissing you so gently. You question whether or not we've really touched is more than I can ask for.
And, together, chaos will ensue wherever we choose to be. It's inevitable when two people with such unusual depth and desire come together. I wouldn't be surprised if there were actual sparks when we touched. We're electrical in nature and I feel within you a current so strong it could light a city (Las Vegas or even the whole Eastern Seaboard.)
A single word has the power of a whole phone conversation especially when the thoughts are strictly directed at the joining of two souls who have been searching for each other. It's a safe haven for intensity and celebration.
Maya, the magic is natural. If we cut ourselves and drank each other's blood before screwing on goat skin adorned with a pentagram, I think the underworld would shake.
Hugs, kisses and unfound pleasures,
A
- posted on 02/24/2007
Beautiful flower,
I appreciate your honesty about your trysts with women. However,
that's completely your decision. I wasn't put on this earth to tell
others who they should be attracted to. You don't owe me an
explanation nor do I need to join in or be present. I accept your
decisions and I'm glad you can make them on your own. If you should
fall in love with a woman, just be kind enough to let me know.
Otherwise, quite simply put, I'm more worried about making our time
together special than worrying about the times we're not together.
In my mind, putting someone you truly love ahead of yourself
distinguishes us from animals. I know that's possible with you. Also,
although I can be a bit devilish, my greatest goal is to find peace
with one woman I admire. I don't take special people for granted.
Simply holding a woman like you is better than intercourse with a 1000
women locked in selfism.
You don't ever have to worry if I'm content being with you because I
can tell you ahead of time each moment will be a gift. Don't ever
worry about falling short of expectations, because that's not my
thought process. My dream is to transition into novels so we can live a simple
life in a countryside of your choosing. I want you to fall asleep in
my arms and awake in my arms. I want us to bathe together, make Love
together and find a higher plane of living. Over time you'll trust
I'll always be there for you.
It's so unusual to find your dream. I think I've found mine and I
don't ever want to sabotage it. I know our attraction is but the first
tiny step and each progressive level will bring new joys. Those can't
be denied to us if we stay true to whatever force has linked us.
Each new day is exciting and I thank you for that. I feel alive again
and that's purely your doing. I hope you feel the same way because
it's a lovely feeling.
Please know I am with you in some form wherever you are.
Spiritually sated,
A - posted on 02/24/2007
Tame the disobedient
Your Highness,
Have to write to you again, words just chocked my throat. As a
domineering mistress, i know very well that I should not write to you any
more. let's keep this communication as long as it can go.
You stirred up so much of my emotion, are you aware of that? Now i feel
like i am at least 10 years younger. your ghost came to my room and
told me that you were there before. You mentioned countryside, it was
sensational. My ex wanted to live like David Thoreau when i
left him. Yes, you are right, i am a woman, just like the others, love
shoes LOL and city life. hey, just imagine an elegant lady with fishnet and
high heels attending a ranch full of horses!
But, my prince, it would be my pleasure to tame wild disobedient
horses with knives and swords! I would be just like the Great
Catherine of Russia tamed and then copulated the big dicked horse!
I am too wild, Adam, do you understand?
Maya
- posted on 02/24/2007
My fair lady,
Your letters excite me and make me feel desired for the right reasons.
Coincidentally, I come from a family with history and our
stories are eerily similar.
I'd be stricken without your notes. I don't know exactly how to
describe my feelings, but there is almost a supernatural bond.
I don't make my living writing words like these. I write shitty
television sitcoms. I'm not trying to "sing you into the rock" like
the ancient Sirens. I'm writing how I feel and you're inspiring it.
I don't know what the future holds, but people are made up of many
different facets and desires. I seem to have tapped a particular one
that has been dormant for some time. That's nothing to be weary about.
We'll go slow and share our thoughts. At the right time, we'll make a
decision as to whether our lives should entwine or not.
Until then, just feel good that there's someone out there who thinks
the world of you and gets hard when at the mere thought of us just
holding hands.
Sleep well,
A - posted on 02/24/2007
i can write anywhere i wish
My dear prince£¬
The best place for me to be concentrated and focused is in a noisy chaotic coffee shop or a night club in NYC or LA, the second best place would be a psychiatric ward or a prison cell. Basically I can write anywhere I want to. I am not choosy at all and I can write anywhere I feel inspired. You inspired me now, i have not written so much in the past weeks!
So again the countryside you mentioned, i am a bit concerned, without the city life, where is the comedy? Where is the insanity? How about both of us check into a madhouse together? just like the one where Anne Sexton and Sylvia Plath lived before?
Maya
...............................
My deepest desire,
Your intuition and attention to detail are soooo impressive. Two love
birds like us belong in a cage with rubber bars. Although creative,
I've traveled beyond into a realm of madness. There is no place for me
in this world. I walk creating alien footprints.
I consider myself lucky to have found you and I'm thankful for you just
being you. We share something and part of the attraction is being able
to look in the mirror. We might help each other understand ourselves
better.
Another parallel is the ability to write whenever desired. I never have
writers' block. However, there are times when I'm more inspired. I
don't mind the city and draw from it. But, I'm already quite reclusive.
Some time in the country with you represents a mental and physical
fantasy where we can pretend we're the only two people alive. Also, I
believe I could focus solely on you without any interference for months
or years. You are sustenance for my soul. In some manner, I think we
will always feel a need for some type of proximity.
The kettle is boiling.
Yours A
- posted on 02/24/2007
Delicious peach,
My brother is my best friend. He's four years younger. I have one
other very close friend from Jr. High. My family is quite dull. They
have no clue who I am and that's fine. I'd say it's your traditional,
over-protective meddling Jewish family. The one important thing was my
dad didn't make his fortune until we were in our teens. Thus, we
didn't grow up like entitled snobs. Plus, my mother is a beacon of
sound values in a sea of immorality.
Personally, I've been called the most interesting person anyone has
ever met which is an anomaly because I haven't done too many
interesting things. I spent my 20s tearing through all the classics
multiple times. It's amazing how much reading has influenced my life.
At 40, I seek a spiritual peace. I spent seventeen years battling
intense depression and I currently take Zoloft which has helped. I
also spent many years frustrated by the lack of understanding shown by
my family. I've ended up in a lot of bizarre situations which I would
have never anticipated, but, no matter how complex my ideas, I still
strive for simplicity.
I find the masses to be small-minded, petty and jealous. I was always
a top athlete with good looks, however, once the family went from
almost nothing to large wealth, the hatred was turned up a notch.
What's silly is despising someone when you've never taken a step in
their shoes. The inner tumult, chaos and rage against authority had
not been a field of roses. I can say I'm the least jealous person
you've ever met and I have never wished to be anyone other than myself.
The one area I regret not pursuing more deeply is my sexuality. My
sexual prime was spent during the period of misunderstanding AIDS.
Jewish women I've dated have never been comfortable with their own
bodies and the notion that "lurid acts and sexual freedom aren't
indicators of what kind of person you are." I respect you for you
ceaseless pursuit of pleasure and you exploration of silly tabu which
dates back to the the 17th Century Quakers. I'm very much a man and
one of my deepest fantasies is to find that one partner who allows the
creative aspects of sex to unfold naturally. My desires run the gamut
from the gentlest of sensation to the most profane elements of basest
part of our mind. You've triggered a part of my brain that's been
dormant for years. I want our flesh to be one. I want our sexuality
to rival that of Henry Miller to the debauchery of ancient Rome. I
need to shave you and eat the clippings. I want to attach myself to
your ass like a lamprey. But, by the same token, I desire kisses
filled with traditional love and innocent snuggling on a couch during a
rainy day.
I see you as a key to a door I've kept locked for too long. I don't
fear the contents of the closet. In fact, I don't think I'll ever be
whole until I've spent ample time with you. I've never come across a
seductrees, succubus/sexual force who rivals you in any sense. Quite
frankly, I need you on so many levels. I need mental connection. I
need the physical experience and I crave the unexplained longing one
can only feel when he's found his soulmate. I fee like a half and,
together, you alone can fit like the most comlex of jigsaw puzzle
pieces.
I don't know what "happy" means. I've been beaten and bled until the
concept no longer holds a definition. Yet, i can finally understand
excitement again and it's embodied by you. You're a dream so vivid I
can nearly touch it, but ephemeral enough to lose during the few
minutes between waking and gaining consciousness.
If we put ourselves into each other's hands, I knw the world will
change - Not only for us, but the current balance between stars,
planets and sun will have to adjust to the raw energy emanating from a
passion and longing that's omnipotent.
The time will come when I put out my hand in hopes that you will hold
it. Our flesh will bond and "I" will become "Us". Currently, it's a
fantasy, but magnetism is powerful and overlooked. I feel our ships
altering courses ever so slightly as our vessels move to that
inescapable minute. It's akin to to a groundbreaking painting that's
already etched invisibly on a canvas with the artist unable to avoid
completing the work that has been written some time before.
I'll eat those fishnets without a condiment just to taste the places
they've touched.
Bare to the bone (Picture it in whatever way strikes your fancy),
A.
- posted on 02/24/2007
Prince Zoloft vs. Princess Effexor
Maya,
Oddly, I don't think either one of us is insane. I think we live in a
world where everyone else is insane. When you can articulate your
ideas, then, you're not insane. I think 99.9999999999999% of the
public is completely bonkers. However, we are dangerous to the status
quo and I wouldn't be surprised if we ended up roomies in some mental
hospital.
Maya, give me a glimpse into your world. How were your ideas formed?
Where did you draw courage from? How do you deal with the sheep
grazing this city on a daily basis? I need to hear more of your words.
National Antidepressant Team Member Too,
A.
P.S. I've only used Mac computers. However, from talking to others,
your transition was a wise one. - posted on 02/24/2007
The power of Zoloft
My dearest Maya,
I love Neil Simon. He's one of the few comedy geniuses ever to emerge.
Odd Couple, Barefoot in the Park, Brighton Beach Memoirs, etc... are
all perfect.
To put this simply as I can, "monogamy" is a sign of respect.
Dalliances don't fit under this category for me. However, I do believe
men and women are only capable of one relationship with the depth of
love I'm speaking about. And, I'm not naive enough to believe monogamy
lasts forever, however I'm romantic enough to hope it does. Love is
about always finding your way back to the same person. Variety is a
whole different story. I can't say I've ever come across anyone as
sexual as you. I'm finding my viewpoints as we discuss different
scenarios. "Jealousy" for me has a lot to do with envying others for
what they have. As tough as my road can be, I'd never trade places
with another person.
Sex is powerful, but I believe there's a force that dwarfs it. I don't
look at our communication as a application to join the lucky few under
your spell. I think that's the kiddie pool compared to what's possible
between us. Details can be sorted and your lifestyle is not for me to
decide, but as an overall arc, it could be possible for us to
potentially share something leviathan in comparison.
I don't disagree with your assessment of male literary figures. Look
at Burroughs, Bowles and the over-compensation of Hemingway. Gender is
a component of sex, but it's certainly not a stand alone.
A.
- posted on 02/24/2007
Maya,
Each step I've taken in life has led me in a totally
different direction than anticipated. I don't think there's an
organizing force. I think we're dealing with millions of years of
entropy. Younger days were spent trying to decipher the hidden
patterns in daily life. I felt like I'd stumble upon the Rosetta
Stone. Only within the last few years have I backed away from that. I
think direct results are possible. Ergo, you went to study dance and
you achieved that goal. However, premonitions and long held beliefs
about adjunct happenings never materialized.
I was something of a math prodigy as a child (And, of course, I end up
a writer.) But, I did believe life was reducible to math. Hey. I was
dumb and about ten at the time. Heisenberg's Law of Specificity is the
only truthful mathematical theorem which correlates with life. I don't
know if I would have been better served focusing on something else or
my thoughts at the time were necessary for me to reach my viewpoints
today. How did you evolve? A lot of my decisions were reactionary.
Now, I try to remain objective. I just think there's a beauty to your
soul so seldom encountered. I don't believe you'd ever hurt another
person intentionally unless provoked. Give me a glimpse into your
decision making process. I'm truly fascinated.
Your A. - posted on 02/24/2007
Dear dodo,
In year 2000, I read a Persian love story called Layla and Majnun in an unusual place. I felt been stricken by thunderbolt. If you have not read that poetry, you got to read it! After I translated it into Chinese(from English version), i decided to go to found more about Persian mythology and was searching for a Sufi guru. that was my motivation to go to Syria,Iran and Turkey.
Love is a difficult word. In my dictionary, love means to bear the unbearable, join effort to fight and find gems out of boring daily life, that would include counting money together, arguing without wounding the hearts, tolerating the differences on all aspects of daily details.
Hey dodo, i think you fall to sleep, in that event, I'd like to say good night to you. Tomorrow, we will continue this fascinating telepathy and Les Liaisons Dangereuses.
Yours
Princess Maya from Effexor - posted on 02/24/2007
Good night, my highness from Effexor.
This knight of Zoloftia has sent
you one last communication to fill your brain during it's restful
hours. I like to be precise with my words because you deserve it.
Please understand the care I put into each letter I send you. It's my
way of showing you the respect you deserve. I hope I appear in your
dreams on Pegasus and whisk you away to our own place where we can
bathe in a natural lagoon and lock lips until sun turns to stars.
Tomorrow is another day of possibility and, most importantly, a chance
to explore the most exquisite ground I've been lucky enough to be
permitted to stroll upon.
Hugs and kisses,
A. - posted on 02/24/2007
Mistress Maya,
What lucky man in a black hood and gag ball am I pulling you away from?
Maybe you can let him give your high heels a good polish with his
tongue while we say "Hello" to a new day. My heart beats for you. I
think "Dodo" is a good nickname for me. Eventually, I'll find the
proper one for you.
I'm pondering your definition of love. It's unique, but how could I
expect anything different?
I'm writing so you know where to find me.
Have the best day, you kitty cat of nine tails.
Wishing we were curled up in front of a fire,
A.
- posted on 02/24/2007
My Dodo,
Dodo was the name the nymph Alice Liddell gave to Charles Dodgson, who wrote Alice¡¯s Adventures in Wonderland. Their pedophiliac love story is one of my favorites. So as Lolita. I call my electronic brainy Robot as Dodo and my cat¡¯s name is Lolita :) if you like this name Dodo, it will be belong to you solely from now on.
I am deeply sensible of your tenderness towards me and I read each of your words with the imagination of you sitting next to me holding my hand. Writing to you has become my daily highlight for the past days. To describe my feeling s to you, to remind myself of you is so much a delight to my heart.
Today is a rainy day, a wonderful day to be introspective. I was thinking of your previous love affair, your yearning for a more complex and domineering woman is sheer obvious. At the same time it concerns me a little. To put the words bluntly, if you would not like to be treated as my submissive, you are bound to take more responsibility in our future relationship. I want a man who is not only can write poetry but also can lift boxes for me; not only can speak eloquently but simply would go out of the way to rescue me if I am in trouble. A lot of household chores and shared life can be so boring and lack any meaning, lack the so-called ¡°sophistication¡±. But we have to shoulder those boredom together and found joys and optimism on the road. That is how I understand about love. 30 some years ago, my father was chemically poisoned when he tried to save his lab from a violent fire, since then he was very ill, my mother made him soybean milk every morning for 3 years continuously .
maya
- posted on 02/24/2007
Dodo I want to tell you, although I came from an elite intellectual family, we suffered deeply during the Cultural Revolution. Both I and my brother were all suffered from malnutrition and starvation. We know very well what poverty means. There was not even electricity in the first few years of my elementary school in the far west countryside in Sichuan province! Nonetheless I may have exquisite taste in arts, fashion, styles as well as manners, I have not been used to privileged life whatsoever. I do not want to give you a false idea and tell you that the difference between our socio-economic positions is non-existing. I know you comprehend well what I said.
You may disagree, but I regard our past economic sufferings as gifts, which gave me stronger bones and courage to face more challenges. They also serve as precious reality check and cornerstone to remind me of my own achievements, those are the memories that ground me and keep me away from insanity.
I am proud of my parents, their life long unshakeable belief and action of love gave me courage and energy. This may answer your previous questions. Mom started her hi-tech business at the age of 61 from basic nothing. I am not Christian, but I believe the best quotation on Love is the one from Corinthians. The man who loved me 18 years ago still loves me, he was my first lover. Last December, we found each other after 18 years of separation. It was such tearful joy, he is still in china married with a daughter. Maybe different from you, I have quite a few long lasting friends and fans who come to my caf¨¦ on a dailly basis.
My dear Dodo, I must return to my melancholy task for a while. I will send you another letter tomorrow.
Kiss you feverishly till you faint.
Maya
- posted on 02/25/2007
We pulled and, then, tugged to see our path ahead,
I kissed you sweetly while you neatly made me sleep on the freezing
side of the bed.
In the end, we both can be more than a friend by exchanging our giving
of head.
That seems right, there's no reason to fight because each erotic habit
can be fed.
You can whip and slash, I won't bat an eyelash as we sate your appetite
first,
But in return, you must appreciate my loins burn and making love to you
is my thirst.
People come from different places, but time can erase the gaps that are
worst,
For love can flourish if you just nourish the pleasures that make you
burst.
Seldom has a woman understood sex and been able to vex a man just
barely afloat,
However, mine was just a taste and it would be a waste if I didn't
explore the depth of your moat.
So don't label or name the intimacy that came when I attached myself
like a coat,
Each night can be unique, even though I'm a geek with tenderness true
but inchoate.
Once acclimatized, we'll both be sodomized with heart leading the way.
You can whip and flay, If that brightens your day, but in the end our
bond will not sway.
For what we share is too precious to for us to scare and each other
thus betray.
The desire is there, it was laid bare and our bread wil be the truth we
assay.
A man of creativeness and vision, can certanly envision two different
souls turned to one,
If we teach and learn, our hearts will burn and that can never be
undone.
Sometimes plain simple caring can be as daring as fettered and painful
fun.
This doesn't mean you won't have your turn as the queen and your
fantasies I will not shun.
A relationship will take form, it might not be the norm, but valued to
the nth degree,
As of this point, I anoint you as a part of me.
You can refuse, it's your life to choose, however there is good that
you see.
My tongue speaks the truth and acts as a sleuth awaiting the taste of
your fresh nectar like a discovery.
I'll drink of your snatch like its a glass from the patch of the
fountain of eternity,
I'll pray to you as a deity with such devout piety to the point of
absurdity.
And handcuffed I'll sit, while you dress as you see fit and dot all
your 'i's and cross every 't'.
This is my gift to you Madam, for I am Adam and I want to experience
your reality.
So this would consist of a semi-regular tryst with no mention of others
you've had,
I know without your say, there are heights that may be above that drive
you mad.
I don't control, that would make me a troll, but I can't say I won't
feel sad.
But, false expectations are simple invitations to turn something lovely
bad. - posted on 02/28/2007
I know it's sad, Maya. I enjoyed our exchanges. There was always the
hint of some kind of sexual awakening as an undertone. I really liked
that and it even helped me write. I thought you might be Yoko Ono to
my John Lennon. What I really needed was for you to take me and fuck
me. I've never had unconditional acceptance. I needed to feel
desired. What I hoped for was selfish on my part, but I viewed it like
some sort of gift you were holding for me.
It's not hard to tell that I'm nearly an alien walking another planet.
I've lost touch with the world on so many levels. I needed a sexual
healing to quell one area I actually cared about. You did nothing
wrong. Your attitudes and perspective are a lot different than mine.
I had really opened up and spent a great deal of time giving you the
best I had to give on a personal correspondence level. I shared things
I haven't shared. I was pulled by you to turn out something special.
Our back and forth had the cadence of perfect sex. It went beyond
writing. We were fucking with our minds. That's precious and a lot
more rare than two people just humping away. I think at any moment, 40
million people on the planet are just plain screwing. That doesn't
involve anywhere near the level of care and nurturing we were giving
each other via notes.
Maybe I was looking for a sexual teacher. I thought it was a lovely
arrangement to exchange your knowledge about physical love for my sense
of the written word. I can hear words connect on the page. I can see
a clear path into stories. I know when humor is appropriate and I know
when something overly sexual belongs. I worked hard to refine my
abilities. I don't really care what I sell or write. However, my
letters to you were special because they were pure. I see very little
purity in this world. But, what we had was definitely clear and void
of pollution.
Your notes always held some piece of wisdom and I often used them as
springboards to cement the excitement that was blossoming. But, I
don't have much to share about the dates. The women aren't
interesting. They don't have the life experience and chi you possess.
It would be boring for you to hear about a few random fucks.
We didn't need to be sexually exclusive, but I so desperately needed
you to open your body to me. It was too great a sacrifice to ask for.
If there would have been a total lack of pleasure for you, then we're
better off this way. However, if you found a way to bend and flex to
accomodate me in a way you're no longer accustomed to - I would have
felt empowered and our fucking might have been a nice change up for you
on an occasional basis. You would have been the center of my writing
and I'm sure we could have plotted an increase in the skill displayed
by both of us as writing together became more familiar.
Life isn't a trade-off. Bartering is almost a bad word in most
situations. We all settle too easily for the wrong reasons. Oddly, we
really did have something worthwhile and lovely to exchange.
We tried and I appreciate your hospitality. It was a kind gesture to
let me into your private home. I don't disagree with many of the
things you were critical about. Sadly, what I needed was you to
register them and approach them gently. I saw you as a true source of
healing. I'm wounded on many levels just as you are. We might have
healed each other. It would have been a beautiful story. Two people
from totally different backgrounds and views making each other stronger
with writing and sex. They are both universal. I'll mourn the missed
chance. We couldn't resist probing each other psychologically and now
that our wiring is charted, innocence has dissipated.
For two people evolved enough not to judge, we broke a cardinal rule we
both hold tightly - We evaluated each other instead of sharing each
other.
You made a comment about being able to sleep with as many guys as you
want while my only chance was you. That isn't correct. I can get
laid, but it's meaningless for the most part. What you didn't factor
into the equation was you can get laid by as many guys as you want, but
how many can bring joy to your heart and moistness to your panties with
a few simple notes sent on a daily basis?
We're both going to have to heal now. I don't see an answer. Maybe
you do and you want to share? But, sharing boring recollections of a
few lurid moments with other women isn't going to help me or mesmerize
you. By the same token, hearing about other men you've fucked will
only make me more morose about the chance we wasted.
A. - posted on 03/01/2007
Here's a piece of writing:
In Vietnam, one small platoon took an easy opportunity to frag their
C.O. (Commanding Officer). It was a scene out of Murder on the Orient
Express mimicked by each private sticking his bayonet in the C.O.¡¯s
chest. There were no witnesses. The C.O. was a prick. He was wrong
in every possible way. He was a disciplinarian and a coward at the
same time. He treated his men like dirt although they fought as
bravely as they could. He committed war atrocities which gave each
member of that platoon recurring nightmares. If he wasn¡¯t happy with a
certain man, he¡¯d find a way to embarrass him twelve thousand miles
from home. These were kids entrusted to him to fight a war which made
no sense. Parents were praying that this leader would help protect
their precious children. The C.O. had lost an unusually high number of
men. He was known as Major Death. That explained it all.
He lost men carelessly. Fatalities and war are brothers. Nobody will
argue that. However, a needless death is an orphan. In our minds, it
is born of sinners. The C.O. was a sinner and he was flat on his back
sucking in his last few breaths and watching his one semi-functioning
lung expand through his wounds and out his chest. He readied to die,
but a wandering medic from a slaughtered platoon devastated by sniper
fire was making his way back to the last safe place he could remember
at exactly the same time. He tripped and fell down when he stepped on
the C.O.. He also saved his life not knowing that the man he was
aiding had no right to stand erect on this planet.
Two weeks later, the C.O. was nearly recuperated in a military hospital
in Saigon. He was still weak, but miraculously the bayonets had missed
key spots by mere millimeters on or around every one of his organs.
Now, he was strong enough to give a statement. The platoon had been
grounded since they were ambushed and remained unassigned. They knew
the C.O. had a fair chance of living during the week of R & R. They
contemplated breaking into the hospital and putting a deadly amount of
morphine is his drip. They thought about suffocating him with a pillow
late at night when someone could slip in unseen. For they knew that
the C.O.¡¯s recovery meant their own demise. A life term in a military
prison is far worse than dying in the field. At least there¡¯s some
honor in the field. There¡¯s no honor in a military prison bearing your
own flag.
The afternoon the C.O. made his statement, the platoon gathered
together to sweat the situation together. Now, they waited smoking
cigarettes while one man ganged up on them instead of the twelve of
them ganging up on him.
Afternoon turned to late afternoon and, then, became evening and
bedtime. Nothing happened. The platoon knew the C.O. had given his
testimony, yet they were not collected. Nothing out of the ordinary
occurred. This made them more uneasy than if they were arrested and
shackled. The biggest surprise was the next morning when they were
summoned to gear up because they¡¯d be humping through the jungle over
the course of the next few days. They reported at 06:00 hours to their
now healed C.O. who briefed them on their latest excursion. Neither a
word nor gesture nor eye twitch gave any hint that this was the man
they tried to kill. The C.O. stood amongst his assassins and nothing
he did belied the fact of what had transpired.
The C.O. never did make mention of the event that occurred deep in the
jungle. None of the platoon members who survived their tour of duty
were ever reprimanded or questioned. Many of the men believed that the
trauma to the C.O.¡¯s internal organs was so devastating, he went
immediately into shock and never formed a memory.
My dad was never sure. He told me the story one night during the
summer before I left for college. We were having a few beers on the
porch. My mother had gone to visit her sister, my aunt, and it was too
hot to do much during the day. We¡¯d gone to the lake once or twice to
fish, but our poles never made it out of their sleeves. Golf was an
impossibility too. I¡¯d have to start packing soon and getting into
college mode, but I had a week or two left of plain, non-earmarked
time. It was a luxury I didn¡¯t completely appreciate at the time.
The great thing about dad¡¯s retelling was it wasn¡¯t triggered by
anything or rehearsed. He sat down, we snapped the caps on two brews
and the story just drifted out. It wasn¡¯t part of some father/son quid
pro quo affair when he tells you the worst thing he¡¯s ever done and you
respond in kind. It simply happened and nothing was expected of me.
It was the first time I realized my dad was a man before he was a
father and husband. He¡¯d had experiences. He wasn¡¯t conceived a week
before me to take care of me. He was me. That was all.
Dad said the C.O. never really changed much after the incident. He was
still the same prick as before the assault. However, no man in the
platoon ever challenged his word again or showed any type of
insubordination He never once drank a beer with them. Of course, they
did try to kill him. He had changed them instead of their opposite
intention.
My dad never understood the C.O.¡¯s thinking. He had guesses. Maybe
the C.O. knew he owned the men now that he had covered their crime.
They owed him and he had finally found the power over men he was
craving. The fact he quit the Corps immediately after the war and
became a car dealer in Bakersfield didn¡¯t lend much credence to that
theory.
My dad hoped their was some decent part of him; Maybe a pseudo
religious side that embraced ¡°turn the other cheek¡±, but nobody ever
heard him say anything about Jesus or the Bible. I didn¡¯t think it was
my place to speculate. It fascinated me and I wanted my father to
continue the story, but he took the empty beer bottles after a few
silent minutes staring out at the dark and went inside to sleep.
We never spoke of it again. He died about five years later in an
automobile wreck. I think if he lived another thirty years, he would
never have brought it up again. Why it came out on that night, I¡¯ll
never know. Was it a happy story or a story with a lesson? I¡¯ve never
been able to decide. I¡¯ve thought about it a lot and still do.
Thus, I¡¯m going to give you my reflections on the event. They are not
right or wrong. It is meant without disrespect to my father. He¡¯d
probably be angry, but there was something going on in that man, the
C.O..
I believe the C.O. knew exactly what happened that afternoon. I don¡¯t
see how it¡¯s something he could leave to interpretation. Nine bayonet
wounds from the guns of your own troop are about as plain as it gets.
I¡¯m sure when the C.O. started to heal, his first thoughts were all
about the revenge he¡¯d enact on those young soldiers, my dad included.
However, the C.O. was weak and in no condition to begin proceedings let
alone even get up out of bed. Thus, he was forced to sit prisoner to
his anger and hatred for many long days. His only escapes were his
scheduled shots of morphine.
When he was well enough to retake command of his troop something had
changed. He didn¡¯t feel any pity for the men or some new compassion
due to his brush with death. This crime was too violent and insipid
for those kind of feelings. The C.O. kept the affair in question
secret for a selfish reason. I don¡¯t think he wanted to know why it
happened. Those hours in the medical cot wore him down. Given enough
free time to really think, we all arrive at the same question - Why?
Why did his men try to kill him? I don¡¯t think the C.O. knew or wanted
to know. Any formal action would have precipitated his eventual
discovery of their feelings. The C.O. chose not to know.
There are painful events in our lives that come about every so often.
Breaking up with a girlfriend, getting fucked over by a friend, getting
fired, not understanding why a girl falls in love with your best buddy
instead of you, etc... We all pretend the ¡°Why¡± behind the events is
the key to our moving on, but I don¡¯t think that¡¯s the truth. The
¡°Why¡± is the epicenter of pain. We seek some sort of answer, but we
don¡¯t really want to know. It doesn¡¯t matter if you get down to the
bare bones of the matter. Nobody is going to change. Nothing is going
to turn the clock back and give you a second chance. The same exact
opportunity isn¡¯t going to present itself again so the ¡°Why¡± wouldn¡¯t
make us wiser. Things don¡¯t happen for a reason. They happen.
Revenge isn¡¯t going to stop it from happening again. The sheer
insanity of the whole episode prevented that.
The C.O. was safer than he had ever been. Each of those men probably
would have given his own life to make sure the C.O. made it out of the
jungle. The ¡°Why¡± would have been a tenth bayonet wound much deeper
than the rest. It would have told a man all the things about himself
he didn¡¯t want to know. It¡¯s impossible to stay sane once you¡¯ve had
to face a jury agreeing on your major malfunctions. It¡¯s not a matter
of opinion with so many in complete agreement. No. It¡¯s a consensus.
The C.O. probably already knew the cause for the attack, but to cast it
in stone was another matter. A matter that would only, truly damage
himself.
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(c) 2010 Maya Chilam Foundation