She inquired about her own recommendation

All the recent talk about the new Prince albums(s) has me listening to his entire back catalogue otra vez!  How I love the albums Around the World in a Day and Parade.  These are very distinct and interesting albums as they are the works which follow Purple Rain and precede Sign O’ The Times respectively.  Yet they are both mini masterpieces in their own right and in many ways every bit as creative and astounding as their powerhouse predecessors and successors.  There is so much melody and rock and funk and beauty on these two that it tears me up just to think about them.  Pure art.  I cannot find anything greater.  Flash forward to 1995’s The Gold Experience for a moment.  “Billy Jack Bitch” is a spectacular thick slice of funk and “Endorphinemachine” is incredible righteous rock. Prince’s albums make my garden grow. 

I’ve been swimming around way too much in dolphin water as of late and though it has felt utterly golden I realize I need to lay off for just a bit. 

For the past 5 weeks I have listened to the album 1.Outside by David Bowie probably 7 times a day.  That is a total of 245 times in 35 days for all you mathematics fans out there.  I remember purchasing this album on the day of its release back in the summer of 95’.  Bowie and Nine Inch Nails would tour together later that year and hearing The Thin White Duke sing on “Repile” or hearing NIN play “Subterraneans” was a transcendental experience I will always treasure.  I recently made a wager with a beloved friend of mine that in thirty years this album would be as revered as the other iconic works from his discography and I would to publicize this belief here.  1. Outside is an amazing, dark, beautiful, haunting, comforting, wonderful piece of art and I am so thankful that I am alive and can listen to it every day.  All the joy I see through this album’s eyes.  Thank you so much. 

She asked me if I wanted to kill her but the truth could not possibly be further from that misconception.

All of a sudden there she was.  A gift from God and gift wrapped in my favorite wrapping.  How I desired that that she throw me down and tell me what a pathetic, ugly loser I am.  “Patetico” she would say while spitting on me.  And then she would finally take off her brilliant black high heel shoes after such a long hard day of work and press her soles against my face with fury in her eyes. 

I watched the movie Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles last night. 

They always looked so strong and still so feminine.  I used to think they would fit perfectly in mine and now I knew this to be true.  And I knew the strength I saw in them was only the tip of something much more resilient that reached all the way to her heart. 

            I felt a brief moment of shame when I realized how special her honesty made me feel.  All things beautiful and ugly we could share with one another.  But the shame left me in the way most other emotions and feelings had that weren’t directly empathically connected to her. 

These past two paragraphs are incredibly poorly written.

            She needed my support; my stolidity and I would not let her down. 

            When she spoke, the ocean came to my mind.  Everything seemed to be going up and down in waves.  The talk of her daughter Rosita had at first given way to still, wonderful waters, with the sun reflected golden in their surface.  But those waters had become violent and terrible and the only thing reflected in them was the gray and black sky above. 

            Was she looking for a way back to something more clear?  Would she be able to find it?

            I pictured her in these waves, reaching for something.  

            “And she drew you in the picture too?” I asked.

            “Yeah, Joaquim and I were standing by our house and she was in the middle of us, we were holding hands.  I stared at that picture for a long time and then and I just crumpled it between my hands.  I didn’t mean to do this, I just did it.  I immediately felt horror over what I had just done and I uncrumpled it the best I could.  I put in on her desk and tried to smooth it out but you can never get those things out, you know?  Joaquim started to ask me why I did that but didn’t finish.  He probably knew I wouldn’t tell him anyway, and I wouldn’t have, I didn’t.  That thought I told you about, it kept getting stronger and stronger very fast and when I crumpled the paper, it was at the front of my mind.  Looking around her room, going through her things and remembering how close I had felt to her and knowing that she was gone…pues, I knew no matter how dumb I was and how many times I thought I saw her or prayed for it that she was not coming back and…I found myself wishing that she had never been born to begin with.  And with that I felt all new kinds of shame and sadness and guilt.   But I did not feel like I could tell that to anyone, even Joaquim.  Or maybe especially him.”

I sat in my car for a long time, asking myself what I was doing. 

You can’t do this.

This is horrible, this is truly awful. 

And disrespectful.  You think this is right?  Is there actually a part of you so messed up that you actually believe its okay for you to do this? 

I guess that shouldn’t come as a surprise though, right?

Not a surprise at all.

I was in the parking of a very old and very large church.  It was one that I had passed by hundreds of times in life, sometimes with my parents, sometimes with friends and sometimes on my own.  But it was one I had never seen inside.  It was a beautiful building, the steeples rising high, ending in a single white cross at the top.  Grass surrounded it and a sign at the entrance read All welcome, all in the grace of our Lord.  It was a nice sentiment, all welcome, but hard for me to really accept. 

The communication was so regular and beautiful and then in an instant it disappeared.  What happened?  Why am I so repulsive?  I hate myself so much.  There are so many moments where I do nothing more than wish I were dead.  I imagine myself dying and it is so beautiful and perfect and wonderful.  Please tell me what I did to burn that bridge!  I swear I wasn’t even trying that time.  I am so sorry!  I am such a pathetic ugly loser!  I don’t know what I did, I swear I don’t, but I am so so sorry!  Please forgive me!  I only experienced it one time but I miss it so much!  I miss it more than anything! 

There was an apology for the late notice but the interview went superb anyway.  I can’t think of any found footage movie which has been as effective as The Blair Witch Project.  That is the classic; that is the best representation of the then new and innovative technique and nothing has really utilized that method anywhere near as well since that time.  How depressing.  Still, it deserves to be the most profitable movie ever.  What an experience.  I really believed it was based on a true story.  What an ingenious marketing campaign. 

What a pathetic loser I am.  How I despise myself.  The hallways were so alive.  You grossly overestimated things but for me it was pure beauty.  I wasted my chance at real genuine beauty.  Please just sever all ties already.  I cannot go on like this.  Wherever I go I see you there.  I do not mind the hi-hat being so loud at all. 

Also, where would you like this to be conducted at?  I can walk anywhere on campus given enough time, so it could be your office or that French ad building or the Center or even someplace very dangerous like the middle of the freeway.  I apologize, I am tired and my humor does not translate well to text.  But truly, wherever you are most comfortable would be best. 

Basically it says after a request for alcohol at an event has been made there are A LOT of stipulations, one of which reads: An annual alcohol education session through such and such must be attended by the organization advisor and a minimum of five organization members, one of which must be the president/main contact, prior to holding an event with alcohol.  A reasonable fee may be charged for this.

So, I won’t be asking you about any of the technical stuff with this procedure.  Instead I will be asking you the more fun philosophical questions.

Is it too late?  I wonder this every day.  I hope to God it is not too late.  I wish more than anything it is not too late.  But it is not for me to decide.  Please do not let it be too late. 

Every night, all night, I will hold you like this if you give me the chance.  You are both so beautiful, the most beautiful I’ve seen.  Please just give me the chance.  I am on my hands and knees.  You returned and I had no idea.  I am so inadequate.  Please forgive me for missing every relevant thing from the last century. 

Hallo Spaceboy, have you been paying attention to Kate?