The Culture that has been here all the time

The major piece of my life that is missing is making love. Not just sex, not just being satisfied, but the wonderful effect on the human body when engaged in making love on a regular basis. Religion has only two justifications when criticizing making love: 1) Unwanted children, but birth control has that covered if a person is smart, and 2) STDs, and at this time, open source knowledge is readily available to avoid them, and healthcare can cure most forms. The health benefits acquired by making love at least once or twice a week, even in old age, are well known.

HYPOCRACY. I know firsthand how duplicitous some religious people are in depicting themselves as "celibate" and abstaining, knowing full well that state of being is a myth, and even if a human tries to adhere to those guidelines, they will fail, in my opinion. We just are not made to not make love.

I miss making love so very much that I feel I am being tortured.

Here are some unusual things about me. I eat fresh lemons. I feel kinky in some forests. Sometimes I enjoy my woman taking the sexual initiative. I like my women "A little on the Trashy Side." I actually slept under the Atlantic City Boardwalk. I have had several periods in my artwork, songs, performing, and scientific interests. I made old things work like radios and Geiger counters. I hold the highest Amateur radio license. I drink half and half . I like Hazelnut coffee. I like flower and vegetable gardening. I love animals. I enjoy love stories. I get emotionally attached to characters in TV shows, especially those from the BBC. I lived in a small German village for three years. My favorite mountains are the Alps. My favorite State is NM. I visited Mexico when in the Army for many wild weekends. Several young women saved my life when I was a wild teenager in NYC. I don't know their names. One saved me in a townhouse that was very near Edward Hooper's. I attended parties at Will Gear's when a folky liberal. I was both a Hippie and, later, a soldier of the month (I enlisted rather than being drafted). I was married three times, the last time two days shy of forty-one years. I set aside most of my interests in life to care for my wife with Alzheimer's, aphasia, and dementia for eight years. I have a daughter from my first marriage and a son from my second marriage. I had a wild girlfriend in between marriages 2 and 3 who jumped in mosh pits and beat up men who had a Mohawk hairstyle because she said they were not real american indians. My academic career bounced between excellent and miserable because, unknown to me for a long time, I was bipolar (now totally controlled), subject to mood swings. We are all unique, aren't we?

Those are the highlights, and I have numerous anecdotes, including some memories I would like to forget. pixabay images

"Good morning, dear.  I hope you slept well and had pleasant dreams. Here is a hug and a kiss. I am making coffee, and I will be making breakfast soon. Is there anything special I can make you? I have bagels and muffins, and the best fresh eggs I could buy. When it is ready, do you want me to bring it to you, or will you come down to eat it?"

I have changed my mind: I want a dominant woman. Why? Because then I will know exactly how to please her. No assumptions. No guessing. She will tell me and command me, and I will comply.

Only one contrary point stands in the way. I am inclined to deal with "my stuff" here, including my house and car, until I decide their fate. This includes my desire to shed as much of my accumulated stuff as I can. Even to the point of renting a dumpster.

My only hope is this: If I respond to her wishes and commands, will she love me? MY PRIORITY? I DON'T WANT TO LIVE ALONE.

I cast out my net and thought I would find a kinky artistic muse. I keep tossing the net out, but it returns empty. I think I must find the right crystals, incense, and chants to bring her to me. Any suggestions on which of these to choose?

I updated my Morning Post. Now, I am one step closer to being a working artist once more. I have my business cards and am about to start a website, but what I need most is a companion muse who is also an artist, so we can encourage one another.

When looking for something fails, it cranks up my anxiety. I can't seem to shake it today. My cat and dog tried, but to no avail. When anxiety flares up at this level, and nothing seems to quench it, it generates the stark picture of a lonely life. A comforting embrace would go a long way, but it is missing, and it's something I can not buy.

A wise black woman I knew a half-century ago often counseled me on my way of thinking. Her simple question was so thought-provoking that I have never forgotten her words, "What does what you are thinking (or believing) have to do with that?" Sometimes she paraphrased it to fit a situation. How she became an impromptu counselor, I do not recall.

The situation was when I was in an emotionally dark place, and the information I had available to me was scarce and often inaccurate, so my mind, being so intensely active, filled all the blanks, and as many of you know from my blog, that is not good because I chose to see things in a negative light.

The missing solution then and now is the same: a warm, comforting embrace. Since I communicate most effectively with human touch, offering and receiving, and I am living in what may be the darkest cave of my life. If only I had just one candle offered to me. images pixabay

UPDATE: I found dozens of my paintings in my self-storage unit. My anxiety dropped very well. I will sleep much better tonight. Also, I will go over my new website notes before I build it; the first step will establish it, and the second step later will offer my artwork for sale again.

Is experimenting with your kikiness a work in progress, or is it a closed door?

An intense lover, I had a relationship about 43 years ago. One day, she suddenly spoke up to me and said, "You sure are kinky." At that time, I hadn't given that any thought. Being with her was an adventure in many things; she had a wild imagination. I should have said, " Wow, you sure are kinky too".

Moving on, I met and married my late wife, who was a natural sub and kinky without ever saying it. I noted her responses and love-making behavior, and forty years later, realized she was kinky. Sometimes I laugh  about a memory, like when she said, "Why are men so touchy with anul play?"

From sex education on street corners, free love, and relationships, it has been a long and winding road. Now, with all this knowledge and openness, I am parked at a dead end, and this is the worst thing that has ever happened to me. pixabay images

So life is morphing in several ways that will make it unrecognizable to many people.

The digital age, with computers and cell phones, was quite a transformation. Now, AI is altering all human activities, and we are probably not fully aware of it. You must have some awareness, of course, unless you live in a sand dune, that is. Oh, quantum computing is about to begin, maybe space colonization, too.

Since I am able to return to my alter egos, I must adjust: My music is already available worldwide, and I used to have a website for my artwork, but let it fade. Now is the right time to reestablish myself as an artist through my artwork using the online platform. I will examine the best way for me and develop a plan soon.

You (if you are a regular blog reader) know me better than anyone has in recent months. I know I am putting behind the hard emotional period caring for my late wife, but I have limited talent in defeating my loneliness and the absence of a loving companion. In this respect, I am a fish on the beach, thrashing around in futility.

A muse can be many things to many people, but what she will be is a she for me, and her beauty shall not be skin deep or fleeting. Blindfolded lovers would soon find out how much real chemistry existed between them when they made love. The inner adventure of life will resonate as they age together; in this case, age is truly only a number. I mentioned Edward Hooper and Josephine Nivison (an artist ) for more than one reason. She was his long-term model and muse, but when I read their story, she also became the dominant administrator in the relationship, to the point that she sacrificed her own art. The country song "I want to be Loved Like that" ¹ applies to her in my eyes. They had a typical husband and wife relationship without perfection, so I am not fantasizing, just hoping I will yet find my muse like her.

Edward Hopper - Wikipedia