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Strange After-Thought » Sex with Powerful Women
Which reminded me of when .. I was working in New York ..
Myself, I was living on a blow-up air mattress in the living room (yes, in the "living room" .. more people = less rent per person).
We were all working 12-hour days, six days a week. Sharing a place with 3 or 4 other people I'd only recently met.
Different people from different states working different shifts with different days off. Some guys, some girls. Now you might think this a challenge, but I had such a great time with these people ..
.. who I rarely saw at home, but who both laughed and cried with me. Both girls and guys, and their friends and lovers.
Almost like family. Strange to be treated with such care by people you barely know.
You havent lived, dawg, let me tell you, until you've blown up a leaky air-mattress after a beer or two. Every night before you go to sleep. (On plastic.)
Your head feels like it's gonna come off .. and now it's time to go to sleep.
[ Here's what I learned » when people are kind and courteous, life in a dive is better than living with someone who hates your guts. No matter how nice that place might be. ]
But this engineer-girl (and her crew-of-guys) were PUT UP at a very nice resort-like place. (If I said the name of their company, you would definitely know it.)
Now I did not WORK FOR this girl .. but she did not want her (crew of) guys to know about our thing. Which I could totally understand. In the mornings, she would get me up extra early .. and "check the coast"
"Coast is clear," she says .. motioning with her hand. "Go!" A pat on your butt as you slip out the door and sneak quietly down the hallway.
I liked her. An athletic girl. Looked like a sports-model. Loved all kinds of sports. Great skin. Late-twenties.
» Sporting a Sexy Tan in the New York Snow
She had just arrived from some island somewhere .. sporting a gorgeous bronze tan .. in New York, no less ..
.. where everybody else is pale-white .. winter, with snow on the ground. Early March.
Talk about making a nuclear-grade entrance. Yes, she got my attention right away.
I normally saw her dressed in baggy anti-contamination clothing, hood and all. But when dressed up (.. in girly clothes) she was a sight. Have mercy. Downright intimidating.
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But you quickly get used to it. I could feel the panther in me ready to pounce. "Breathe."
As you probably already know, some girls excel at making you look good. While others specialize in trying to make you look bad. She was the former.
After a while, tho, it was cool for her that I meet the guys .. which involved a pool-table (.. which I'm pretty good at .. thanks to gramps).
Yes, that was a little weird, at first, hanging out with "her guys" .. after hiding from them. But if she was okay with it, then I was okay with it. (I liked her guys. They were very cool.)
And despite the professional challenges .. it felt like a healthy relationship. She was a very caring person. In a way that I had not been exposed to. And no, I won't get into the details.
I carried forward something of her, the wholesum feeling from that relationship .. I carried that forward with me .. to other relationships.
I WILL however say that it was a very easy relationship. No trying required. No effort. At all. Things just fell together so naturally. Like they were meant to be. Surprisingly so.
Caught me off guard. Scared me .. with its ease. The brakes werent working. Feel me?
I should probably note .. that she was something of a » Tomboy.
But there was a lot of girly-girl in her, too. Which I did not see at first.
After hours, and behind closed doors, she would morph from this confident woman, very much at ease in leading a crew of very male guys .. in a very male industrial environment ..
.. into this cudly little kitten .. able to let herself be vulnerable and even bearing her insecurities. I did not know that girls like her even existed.
The transformation was such a beautiful and remarkable thing .. that I had trouble comprehending it. It made me feel so one-dimensional. I could not even fathom how such a thing was possible.
.. but that she was over that night.
And while she understood enough about guys to "do" me (.. and make it look easy) .. I did not 'know' girls. I did not 'get' girls .. in an emotionally intimate way.
Sure, I could give you reasons, but those don't really matter.
She was a lot of woman. I began to see that her ability to deal effectively with guys (.. in a male-dominated environment) was only the tip of her iceberg. In this respect, I felt inadequate to deal with her .. even tho she made it very easy.
I learned things from her. Heck, I even brought her by to meet Nana one afternoon (.. cuz we both had off so little time).
.. that Gericault painted the Raft of the Medusa that I mentioned a little earlier) ..
.. in that » she was clearly living in a superior life-style.
But what if I actually *worked* for her? How would I feel then?
.. but I don't know if that would work for me. It would certainly present a challenge. (No, neither of us were married.)
So .. when I was thinking about Marianne's hypnotic red-soled stilettos .. and what life on the campaign trail must be like ..
.. just giving imagination free play .. you can better understand the voice in my head that said » "Dude, you know to roll like that" (.. quietly sneaking out in the morning). Because that's when I remembered.
One of the things that I really liked about working in New York .. was that I was just an average tech there. One of a hundred.
Once you become the boss, everything changes. You adopt a different pattern to others. The boss pattern. People start sucking up to you (.. instead of being real with you).
But there in New York, I was nobody-in-particular .. while this girl was.
I could feel different emotions churning ..
.. even tho I was not yet mature enough to understand them.
I remember walking out of her place .. early, early. I am the only one out and about. Crack of dawn.
And checking out the luscious grounds and thinking » "So this is how the other half lives. This is very nice. I must say."
They all had rental cars. We, on the other hand, got $10 a day gas money .. for being on the road. Away from home.
To be honest, I had forgotten all about that girl. What was it that triggered the memory? Oh yeah » sneaking out in the morning. Very early.
She was the person who told me, "Sometimes I wake up and I dont know if it's day or night. What shift I'm working. What country I'm in. I gotta get off the road. Settle down. Buy a house. Grow roots."
Our relationships lasted only a few months. She left the road after that job.
No, I won't tell you where she went. But I took her to work on her first day at the new job.
And as the Porsche crept down the parking lot ..
.. with many people all around .. walking toward the big building at the end of the lot ..
.. I knew she would be okay there. As she got out and walked toward the building with the everybody else ..
.. I thought » "You are gonna meet an engineer-guy here .. a handsome, smart, kind, funny, sports-loving engineer guy .. who you will settle down with .. and who will be much better for you than me."
I could see that. So I put the Porsche in reverse and backed out slowly.
Some time later I was again standing there in Nana's kitchen, and I asked, "So Nana, what did you think about that girl I brought by?"
Nana did not hesitate .. not even a little. Quite matter-of-factly, she said, "She's too good for you."
I did not want to admit it, but Nana was right.
Anyway .. the engineer-girl bought a house that had just been built. No one had ever lived in it before. (I helped her christen that house.) Nice, quiet neighborhood. Mud yard. Mud driveway.
We even went to church one Sunday morning (.. when I spent the weekend). Afterwards everybody wants to come up and meet you.
"And who are you?" an old granny asked me. "What are you doing with this pretty girl?"
I remember walking out of that church .. a very nice, modern-looking church .. and thinking, after seeing her talking to all those people who wanted to meet her ..
I remember thinking » "This girl does everything good. She is a total sweetheart."
If you hurt and fuck-up a total sweetheart .. that can be hard to forgive yourself, no?
Not because you want to, no.
Even fucked-up people are not that fucked up.
That they would ever want to hurt a total sweetheart.
[ I can only imagine what Jesse James must feel like.
I have a cousin, by the way, on my dad's side. A first cousin, who looks like Sandra here.
She went to the Miss Connecticut pageant twice. She came in 5th the first time and 3rd the second.
So she came close to going to the Miss America pageant.
She's a real sweetheart, too. Married a doctor.
Tho I find it curious however, how Sandra, especially as her life-experience plays off that of Jesse ..
.. uh, how she makes me think of (not cuz the beauty-pageant queen, but rather) » the Gap-Toothed Girl.
Because they do look similar. Think of Sandra made a little more Italian. ]
Sometimes .. when things are going so good that you can't believe your own eyes ..
.. if you have been told how ugly you are for most of your life .. how nothing you do is ever fucking good enough .. and how you are the cause of all problems ..
.. and then shit starts clicking for you .. you can feel uncomfortable at the apparent incongruency between reality and your years of dysfunctional programming. Feel me?
It's not so easy to escape from years of negative parental programming. Just because you leave home, doesnt mean the shit is that easy to leave behind.
That's what I meant when I knew that the engineer-girl would find someone better. Like I was damaged goods ..
.. and while shit might certainly be looking good .. I am not there. Not even close.
[ So you can imagine my elation when I finally found somebody who was just as fucked up as me. (This is a joke, but only partly.) ]
She really did deserve someone better. Someone much better.
You know when people are not fucked up .. because they are like you used to be .. before you became fucked up.
In retrospect, I liked that the relationship contained no games. It was very honest.
"This is how it is. It looks like we dont have much time. So let's just try to make the best of it and see what happens. No worries."
There was definitely a before-n-after moment. But I won't go there.
It is beyond the scope of today's entry (.. yes, I know that might seem hard to believe) .. but my view of relationships goes something like this »
» the best relationships are those where both of you find yourselves moving along parallel paths (college comes to mind) .. both following your dreams and highest aspirations ..
.. instead of one person sacrificing their life for the other. If one person derails their dreams in order to "be with" someone .. something about that situation seems destined for a less-than-optimal trajectory.
Yes, I am waxing abstract, but you feel me. (Because of the resentment that such sacrifices can engender.)
And for a while .. the nuclear-grade boss-girl and I were » RUNNING PARALLEL.
Until we werent.
But while we were .. ooh, baby .. it was a very cool thing. Too cool, in some ways. (For me.)
I have gotten to know other powerful women over the years, but she was my first. (And you know what they say about your first.)
Originally I was only supposed to be there in New York for a few months, but I ended up staying a whole year (to be close to Nana), cuz they liked me .. and I didnt complain.
I even pitched for their softball team when summer rolled around. What a great sense of community. Beers afterwards.
One time, while I was pitching, after I had walked two guys in a row, my boss came over to the mound .. to talk to me.
Once you walk a guy, it's easy to get overly conscious of your pitching, which makes you tense up, and it fucks you up even worse.
So my boss says, "See that girl sitting on the bench there? She works with those guys over there, but notice how she's sitting on our side. She totally wants your contractor ass. She wants to take you for a spin around the block" As he's walking away, he calls out over his shoulder, "Word on the street."
It was silly, sure .. but it made me laugh and loosened me up and I started throwing strikes again. If you walk two guys and somebody cracks a double, you're screwed.
My point is that » he knew what I needed .. because » he knew me. He never said a word about my pitching .. because he knows that this would only make me even more conscious of it. And make it even more difficult to thrown strikes.
It was obvious to me why they paid this guy all that money .. because he knew how to talk to people. And you have to know people before you can really talk to them in a meaningful way.
Come to think of it .. I remember the only time I ever got thrown out of a bar .. was with two of these guys. (You know who you are. I won't say your names.) Capn Morgan dark man. And Pretty boy. That fancy place up on the hill .. with the great view.
Walking out, I said » "I can't believe you guys got me thrown out of a bar. I've never been thrown out of a bar before."
[ What surprised me most was that » these guys were so buttoned-down at work. Flawlessly professional. All their t's were crossed. All their i's were dotted. Well dotted.
Sure, you can get crazy .. but not in a place like that.
In a way, these guys remind me of what happened to the kids I grew up with .. who went to Catholic school for the first 8 years.
After which, they all sorta went crazy .. especially during our first year of high school together.
Sorta like what happens when the repressed get their first taste of freedom. They go berserk.
But that's another story. ]
But then I got tired of scraping ice off my windshield in the dark at 5:30 AM with the wind howling thru the trees, the temperature hovering around zero. Time to wake up, sleepy head. That's when I came to California.
In my type of road-work, I could suk up to the management and they could keep me longer term. But the engineer-girl would be moving every few weeks to months, if she got lucky somewhere.
Life on the road like that is hard for anybody .. after a few years. But for a girl .. it can't be easy. Which is why she quit.
After about a year at a place .. you start to get sucked into the political vortex. "Let me tell you about this other guy, how he screwed me over. Join up with us and screw them"
I hate that kind of stuff and try hard to remain above the fray .. but it suks you in after a while.
I have other girl-engineer stories .. better than this one. (Certainly more scandalous.) But the statute-of-limitations is not yet up there.
I will say this tho .. if an engineer-girl says to you » "Do you have a minute? There's something I'd like to show you. Something that I think you'll find interesting."
And when you arrive at her destination, she says, "And by the way, I'm the only one who has the key to this room." .. uh, you'll know then that you are in trouble.
My ego does not complain too terribly when I tell these war stories. But I feel that the theme behind this discussion will become more prominent ..
.. seeing that we now have Janet Yellen running the Fed.
Christine Lagarde is running the IMF.
Remind me to tell you the story of the time the elevator door closed and this other engineer-girl said » "What were you doing in my dream last night?"
And I said » "I don't know. What was I doing?"
And she turns and says » "You really wanna know?"
I opened my mouth to say something, but was unable to form words.
The bell rang. The door opened and she walked out. Looking back over her shoulder, she said, "You were naughty. Very naughty."
Were I not so surprised .. I might've thought of something clever to say .. like » "That was me."
Do you think I was really in her dreams, or did she just make up that line? She certainly made me believe that I had visited her dreams. But how can you really know?
What do you think of this? I do not find this advice too terribly limiting.
The end. ■
» Taylor Swift Flexes Her Muscle and Calls Bullshit on Apple
Update June 22, 2015 » Speaking of sexy, powerful women .. check out Taylor Swift laying down the streaming smack on Apple.
I will tell you, dawg .. that does indeed make her seem more sexy to me. Because it makes her seem more capable.
And she is doing it for the right reason .. to stick up for the little guy, who too often gets fucked both coming and going.
And she's totally right. Anybody with the most rudimentary moral compass can see that.
She called bullshit on Apple. "Dear Apple, I really like you, so dont get offended .. but this is bullshit." Love, Taylor."
She doesnt even bother to call them or send them a certified letter. She just posts it on her Tumbler.
That is pretty ballsy .. even for a guy.
<end june 22, 2015 update taylor swift's sexy thrown-down of apple goliath>
» Taylor Tells Kanye to Go Fuck Himself
Does that make her look more powerful? Sexier? More capable?
I certainly think so.
I thought it made her seem more mature. Like a big girl. I mean, she is only 26. She is just getting warmed up in her career.
Her statement had a nice 'touch' to it. Those kinds of things are never easy to do .. so you have to assign a multiplier effect to her huevos.
Who can possibly know what it feels like to have Kanye walk up and take the mic away from you on national television and then basically tell the world that your song aint really as good as people say it is.
I can only imagine that the experience was deeply embarrassing and humiliating.
But that was then and this is now. Surely, she must be feeling her artistic oats. She fills stadiums everywhere she goes. (And makes it look easy.)
I do not see how Kanye can say that he made her famous .. because she was up on stage accepting an award at the time when he grabbed the mic away from her.
If she was a nobody doing nothing and he came along and recognized her talent and mentored her into a career with fame .. then I would be able to understand the verse in his song.
But he only succeeded in making himself look notorious when he (a big, strong man) grabbed the mic from Taylor (a little and relatively weak girl).
Nobody will ever accuse Kanye of not saying what he's thinking.
Does it not bother Kanye's wife when he writes stuff like that?
Because Kanye's lyrics make it seem like he has been thinking about what it might be like to sleep with Taylor. No?
» The Artist Should Focus on Their Art
This might be a good place to share my thoughts on awards in general. Some people make a big deal about awards. And certainly, no one is going to deny that awards are nice to get. Recognition, acceptance and everything that goes along with it.
But I feel this is a distraction .. at some point. The artist should really be about the art. And here I'm confident that Bukowski would back me.
If the artist is more concerned about recognition and awards than the art itself .. then he's missing the point.
I could go on at great length here, and perhaps I will return later to flesh out my ideas .. but the art is bigger (and more important) than the award. The award does not make the art any better .. nor does the lack of an award make it any worse.
When the artist is gifted and talented .. they know that they are gifted and talented. They dont need anybody to tell them.
Perhaps the creative forces within the artist desire to create something that will speak to the people of the future. People today will say, "I'm not feeling your art."
This does not bother the artist .. because he knows that his art is not intended for them today.
But my point is that » when you get right down to it, it's not that big of a deal. It's not worth snatching away the mic from a little girl receiving an award to tell the world that her art aint as good as people say it is.
Art is a very subjective thing anyway. Just because it doesnt speak to you, doesnt mean that it doesnt speak to others more strongly.
The focus of the artist should be on their art, not the award or the recognition that comes from it. And if the artist is focused on the award or on how people will perceive or receive their art, then they're not focused on their art .. and this will hold them back. It will hinder and limit their art.
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