Icarus's blog: "The Chestnut Tree Cafe"

I didn't have three years for her to catch up. Hot body, cool talks but that's where it stopped. It's come out that I'm a bastard. "You're not pretty enough" "You're not smart enough" "You're not great enough". What am I vetting? A fuck, a partner or a superior? I really don't remember anymore. Why is it that my breath is shorter than my attention span? I can get practically anything I need conversationally out of a friend but I need sex, and someone I can stand spending every day with. Is this like getting payed to have an opinion? I put it on hold for a while, pay the bills and still manage to have an opinion. All the peices are there, but strewn about the nonsense horizon of my expectations. Wait... I tried that. Just sex, hold the meaning all meaning, sex on the side It didn't work. What to fucking do... Keep fighting the good fight as a tidal wave of time and loss of looks bears down? Is there even such a thing as a "perfect woman" a "perfect relationship" and more importantly, am I too jaded to not just pounce on "good enough" or "hey, at least she digs me"? I don't know myself anymore I certainly haven't the slightest clue on the rest. Where do I see myself in five years? Paid. A better chef. A better writer. My dog will be too old to misbehave. And... that's all I see. Terrifying, isn't it? I think the key is meeting a woman I respect and I can still ask her to lick my shaft as I sit on a throne of gold and bones watching cartoons and wearing a lopsided crown. Some cookies would be nice with that fantasy too. Respect is the key, but so is that unearthly passion that comes over me those digging bites that gnawing anticipation those repeated explosions of blow by blow by blow that escape of my humanity in a husky gasp. I haven't felt that in... never with respect that is. This is the part where the rage comes. Some wall will get hit some pseudo-violent erotic fantasy or reality will roll to the surface of my mind's eye and I'll be stuck here without a throat to squeeze, or a cervix to bruise. Or a good tall long neck of hooch to down. Am I undeserving of physical gratis? Even at the cost of say... fifty bucks or letting some mean trick crash at my place, We all know that's not the scope of the problem but even that rudimentary element escapes me. But I need a molecule stable, balanced and attracted not a standalone, or a single flavor. In chemistry it would be simply expressed equal parts lust equal parts love the sum of two, high quantities of each. The sum would be greater than the parts with an explosive reaction. Yeah, that'd be nice.

So I was thinking about the end of the universe today What? I like theoretical physics, and it kept my mind briefly from my horrid and often tragic love life. I'm talking about the end not the edge. The edge is that concept that the universe is made up of pockets in which matter can occupy it, and if you're the furthest thing out you're the edge, and there will always be more of these pockets (this theory is the ONLY conflict to my "space is zero dimensional therefore collapseable" theory, however no proof has been provided for either side). Anyhow, the end of the universe, if the universe is infinite, and is cyclic in nature (See: The big bang/Big collapse) then I propose that in order to perpetuate the system there must be a perfect 100% efficient system of energy, IE conservation of matter and energy, however I was wondering what forces FUELED this proposed perfect system, and then I went on to say "wait we've never observed a perfect energy system" I then propose that the universe may some day go still.

So, it's 9 months in 9 out this dec. I'm still painfully single, yet I'm getting compliments left and right, acknowledged as fun, funny, smart, interesting/odd, and attractive So what the fuck am I doing wrong? Empty inboxes, a growing stockpile of condoms, 2000 stanzas later and I'm feeling very square 1. Sure I started a new career, my goddaughter is being born, I'm regionally published woopty fuckin doo. I want a relationship. A DAMN good one too. Hey, at least the coffee at my office rocks. Good things are happening, I'm not in jail, I'm working, my oddball unfamily is growing, and hey, I'm cute (even if I'm unfuckable.... or even unwriteable) Guess I just wanted some acolaides (sp) for my first day of work in forever or at least a fucking kiss when I got home. God that sure is asking a lot. Everyone at the office was talking about the christmas party, asking if I was bringing a date... maybe thats what brought it on today. Guess I'm weird for being the only single nonchristian.

Love is an empty mailbox. Pregnant with anticipation Bloated with disappointment. Lust is a fingerswirl of capaccino. Lofty bubbles of caramel hue placed preciously, firmly on my tongue. The jade eyes and soft soft soft soft lips always help. Take me to sweet Zion baby. Where water pours sweet as honey and every hour is happily lost in your embrace. The sky is always overcast here Like its waiting to escape. Or perhaps blocking that heavenly tryst between the sun and moon all the earthly eyes of mortals would turn for that show. Struck blind by their secret eclipse. Love is an overcast wasted day, cool coffee, and I eagerly aching for your response. The plains between us. The world in a promise. The beginning of eternity in my jade paradise.

Only in fevered dreams have I met a girl so tangibly in harmony with my heart, body, and mind alas ... So, I'm back. I found out I can talk to practically anyone, and that my oddness is an open source for charm, joviality and storytelling. It was quite a pleasure The peak of the adventure was the people, 3 in particular. Though that's not to undercut the kind and interesting people I met and forgot the names of. Most of all I'll miss John as a compatriot. His wild adventures embracing spirit and understanding. Kimberly for shattering my expectations of your everyday overachiever. And Marenna... the song my dreams will sing for another millenia. Without these friends I suddenly feel vacant and unwhole. So this is what it is to bear daring lonely heart to strangers...

I am but a powerless cog of destiny against the insurmountable atomic sunrise. After the winter there was forty days of night pierced occasionally by a whimper from a stranger. The steel coffin peeled open, my eyes calloused anew my skin still suckling the tubes. We found a way to make men ageless, horrible, dastardly men like me and to what glorius end did we use such finger in the candle technology? Well... now you know. In another five hundred days I will have performed my third miracle. "walk" Another five hundred years and I may forget my name but never what I had done, or how this lazarus had came to be. 40 summers of darkness on a planet who's only wish is to hijack its orbit, and sail straight into the sun. A miserable planet, ruled by a miserable codger. Writing in the snow dunes, as another blizzard washes it all away.

That's not even a word! I made it a word, like warhol made it a painting. Update: My dog's in Indy, I'm missing a cable to rig my new harddrive, and I'm ASSUMING that's the only problem. Fallout 3 and saints row 2 exceeded my very high expectations of them. And no poetry until I get back. *shrugs* y'know how it is with limited time and text space. I gotta pack, grab my travel docs and get my ass out of bed earlier and earlier. My mom bought me about 200$ worth of new clothes, bit of an ask and ye shall receive thing. That and how the hell was I going to afford it? I'm at a healthy level of stress and nerves, like any carpool of strangers and my first forced travel w training. Now curry. Then fallout and pretravel scramble.

I chased the naked sun today. Unaware, uncaring, but full of life and brilliance. Like honey dripped from the sky soothing a tired mind's eye. I'll drink the ground water of this day for another millenia not resting on my laurels but ratherr whispering to them a dirge of the mad a whimper of the over amorous oft lonely. But to what end do my quills scratch, my heart sing? Is it of beauty, love, or stranger things? May we never know what truly dwells in that starlit city. Stranger things still than the body one loved. And another only dreamed.

Alright, here's what I want out of this dish Spice, piggy, apple, crisp, sweet. Something BETTER than a jar of applesauce and chops. To those ends Good fat content chops or tenderloin thyme, pepper, coriander? salt a tbs apple cider vinegar 4 1/2 cups apple cider (pref spiced add some cinnamon and cloves if its not in the cards) Brine over night Retrieve and sear pork, add the brine back as a poaching liquid add 2 sliced red apples Retrieve chops and apples add about a cup of sugar to the liquid, boil and reduce, ladle bed and drizzle appropriately. And if that doesn't work, by god I'll use white wine. I know that poach/reduction. I think a cream sauce or dollop is in order as well. Along with some pomegranete. Sides? Wild+long grain rice. Duh. A small bed of baby spinach and greens. Red potatoes+olive oil is another favorite of mine. Or grits. Parmesan grits? YES! Jalapeno grits... maybe.

I was thinking today about some brine and stew-like applications of pork, chicken, cider and apples. Cleaned house and got tired of watching other people fuck. Which part of that statement shocked you more? Boredom with porn or me cleaning? I even wrote longterm goals for each room and posted them in a visible spot. I'm kinda... methodical, especially over time. Also, considering the fact that a LOT of shit still has to get done like moving my folks, this job, my goddaughter, doghouses, disposal of junk, so on. Speaking of my job, we had a fairly productive lunch meeting. My club sandwich wasn't toasted, had no mayo, and that was the worst thing that happened to me today. I contributed as a lowly fresh grad intern, took notes, made jokes, I was only terrified, overwhelmed and intimidated for about 5 minutes as this was my first power lunch. ...out of tea Anyway, yeah, the rookie knocked it out of the park and I... am gonna work on my pc and recipes.