In Search of Scientists

I miss my baby.
Two weeks from this very moment, he'll be sleeping in his own bed.  I'm betting Cupcake will be with him which is cool.  The truth is that even though I believe it would not be in either his or Cupcake's best interests to be married with a baby right now, I would kind of like it.  I'm not going to think about it much, however, because the last thing we need right now is for the Laws of Attraction to start working in that direction.

Much better for the Laws of Attraction to attract me a scientist or something.  I'm pretty sure that one of the reasons I'm all into the Activist beat for Worldwide Hippies is that I'm convinced there's a man out there somewhere who is strong enough for me.  Someone I can respect and admire and who makes me want to cook.

As much as I respect and admire Velvet - or Buster or Bill or whatever his name is now that he's not a baby anymore - and as much as I enjoy cooking for him and making a home and all of that cozy stuff - he is no substitute for a real man in my life.

About this time last year, that preacher came out of the mountains to meet me.  It would have been nice if all that had worked out because I still respect and admire his willingness to take a chance.  Since then, there have been two silly incidents on the internet with men - that college professor who fancied that he was a novelist, and the fortune hunter who turned out to be an aggressive lunatic.  It's good to have men on the periphery because you get an attention hit from having someone find you attractive, but they don't interfere much with your life even when it becomes clear that there is no reason to pursue a relationship.  I suppose we have to count that cute little socialist I picked up at Drinking Liberally, but I'm sorry to say that when I consider the men who have passed through my life recently, I often forget about him.  In any case, it's been a peaceful time.  No emotional roller coaster, at least not from that direction.  The turbulence has come from the process of selling the apartment.

These days the emotional roller coaster has become more like a merry-go-round anyway.  I was talking to Woody the other night and realized that it's more like riding on an event horizon that spins around the vortex of my mind.  Of course we were high.  I like getting high with Woody and talking about metaliguistics and language acquisition, curriculum theory, epistemology and phenomenology and other stuff like that.  I figure that any man who gets pulled into the Triciasphere won't have to talk to me too much since I'm always talking to Woody.  Or else he better be able to talk about phenomenology and shit.  Physics too since I still don't understand the relationship between physics, quantum physics and Reality.

One thing I learned from that preacher is that God has nothing to do with anything - so I'm sticking with Scientists from now on.  Sadly, the only scientists I'll be seeing any time soon are the doctors who will be solving the mystery of my shoulder.  I see another one on Monday.  So far one doctor thinks I've been walking around with a slightly dislocated shoulder for some months which makes sense to me, even though I don't like the idea of having surgery to put it back where it belongs.  Apparently when you walk around like that for months, your muscles compensate to the point where your shoulder can no longer be relocated manually.  He sent me to the doctor who did the original shoulder surgery back in 2007, since a dislocated shoulder would indicate surgical failure.  That arrogant, dismissive fellow said I had arthritis.  Now, I much prefer the idea of arthritis to surgery - but I'm not going back to that man any more.  It's a long, annoying story - but the good news is that I know enough about narcissists these days to walk out the door when I see one.

Which is probably why I haven't gotten in touch with that man who won't talk to me - even though I'm missing him too.  He was great in many ways - especially if you're looking for someone to have fun with when you're broke in New York.  Now that Buzz Kill  and I have signed the papers so that the apartment is officially sold, I'll be broke and on my own in New York City.

Not as broke as all that, but I still have to watch my pennies, nickles and dimes.  There are plenty of apartments in Harlem and Washington Heights that I can afford, that are big enough for me and Velvet - even with Cupcake sleeping over.  Some have washers and dryers in the unit itself so I won't have to be nice to my neighbors when I'm doing the laundry.  We may be having peanut butter toast for dinner, but it will be home for a little while - until I decide where I want to buy a place.  If I want to buy a place.  Either way, we'll still be having peanut butter toast for dinner.

I'm grateful to have had all this time with no relationship because it was really important to me to decide where I want to spend the next few years of my life without any input from a man.  Naturally, Velvet is a consideration and a factor - but he's the only person I wanted to be a consideration and a factor.  My parents are a consideration and a factor, too, but they are healthy enough to manage quite nicely without me for a number of years.  I'm grateful for that too.  Now that I've made my choice, I'd be glad to meet a man especially since all that interacting with Buzz Kill back in January and February led to me being able to finally shout down a bulldozer (Stonerdate 02.05.2011).

The other good news is that after all these years, I've finally learned to communicate with grown-ups.  It's always been easy for me to talk with little kids because there is never any bullshit involved.  With kids, you have to be Real or they fuck with you relentlessly.  I guess it's the same with grow-ups.  I just thought that if you told them what they wanted to hear, they'd be friendly or leave you alone.  That's never what happens.  Now that I've learned to say what I have to say to grown-ups without yelling or crying, it's much easier.

I'll call that Thing of Beauty #010-101.