my careless contagion

You don't have to watch the movie Blade Runner 2049 to know who the character Joi is. In case you don't, Joi is an AI hologram girlfriend of the main character, K. This movie is the sequel to the original Blade Runner (1982) with Harrison Ford, who seems to be spending his golden years reviving franchises he made legendary. The Blade Runner movies' inspiration was Philip K. Dick's book Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? But, what I want to focus on is the planned obsolesce of male-female relationships, which Joi represents. There's even a scene where K's connection with Joi is the only way he can have sex with a real girl. (Joi's hologram overlaps the girl.) That represents a lot: porn, fantasy, conflation, AI, whatever. It's impossible to have a relationship with a real woman without an intermediary.  There's more going on with AI, but I want to look at how it applies to men and women specifically. It's a dumpster fire out there, if you're...

Unless you've been living under a rock, you've heard the dirty, little pop song that is Sports Car. Funny thing about the video is nary a sports car is to be found. In its place is a whole lot of innuendo, costume changes, and well, Tate McRae. Nothing to complain about there.  But I do like sports cars and believe the absence of one is an oversight. And don't talk to me about Mustangs or Camaros; those aren't sports cars. Those are muscle cars. Can't tell the difference? You will if you throw a muscle car into a corner like you would a sports car. A lot of people made that mistake and paid for it with their lives. I knew a few, rest their souls. Muscle cars are about straight-line acceleration. Those who dare mix copious amounts of horsepower and poor handling will pay the price.  May I suggest the Nissan GT-R ? AKA Godzilla. I mean, it literally spits fire. Sure, it's an oldie now, but it's a goodie. And looks good in every color. Over-engineered, yes, and...

It was such a long day without you. You were at a thing with friends until evening. I had an appointment, so I couldn’t go with. I missed you more than usual. I trace your steps around the house, touch your clothes, tap my finger on your perfume, lay on your side of the bed, squeeze your pillow. All to no avail. I can’t conjure you. You’re all around me, but you’re not here.  I look at my phone. I missed a notification. You’re on your way! You’ve been sitting all day, you say, so would I like a walk? Would I like a walk? With my beautiful lady? Yes, a walk, and everything else.  I hear you at the door, but if I bound to you like a golden retriever, I will lose my cool. I wait half a minute, look up, and you’ve found me. An urgent look is on your face. I smile. Goodness, woman, you look good. I like it when you get dressed up. Tonight is no different. We look mismatched because I’m dressed in shorts and a t-shirt. Now we are out the door.  The sky looks ominous, but w...

Fifty reasons why I am bad at relationships (and life in general). Haha, prepare yourself for a long post. It's quite possible I made some of these up. Hint: I didn't make up the first one. Or the last one. 1) My voice is shitty. It vacillates between sounding like Hank Hill, the protagonist of King of the Hill (an animated series created by Mike Judge), and Ned Flanders from The Simpsons. I'm surprised I was allowed to have sex with a woman, any woman, with a voice like this. I'm pretty sure there's a law against it. Don't make me yell for any reason or bears will come out of the forest and eat babies out of sheer annoyance. I sound like a dying pterodactyl. Making love to another dying pterodactyl. *Shudder* 2) My sex drive went for a drive and never came back. Considering what I have to offer women, that's probably okay. I don't think anyone is going to feel sad they're missing out on my gummy worm. Actually, it's more like a gummy bea...

She has eyes that have captured my soul her fingertips trace my bones like they are her home when I wake I am alone and the world out there is still turning though my world is dead That girl knows sex is like dying a little be careful who you choose  to die with tonight you may never rise again When I think about her I see her as a painting painted in a happy moment by the saddest, deadest artist who swore he'd never paint again What he did with her is nothing short of a masterpiece nothing short of a miracle after heaven ran out of them she's perfect like that, though frozen in time When the lights go out tonight I'll see her again though like a dewy dream she'll evaporate again That girl knows sex is like dying a little she didn't want to die with me that's why I always painted her with her clothes on In the new morning's disappointment I'll remember her as I say my prayers and maybe she'll think of me ...

There is something destructive in love. At least, for me, there was always something destructive. Maybe I should say there is something self-destructive in love. It's a passion that can make one lay all else aside to chase it. The right woman can start a fire in a man that is never-ending. Or it can last for a moment, and then it's gone. There are parts that are never the same again. As a man who loves hard, I can say the loss of love comes even harder. Choosing the wrong woman is just another form of self-destruction. I can't see through the veil of anger right now. I can't see my future. I am wrapped — as with a blanket — in pure hate. I hate myself. I want to die. There is so much self-hatred inside me right now, it feels like it will explode. The reasons have become clear. I've had so many self-destructive habits (like smoking, drinking, workaholism, etc.). I've wanted to erase my existence for as long as I can remember. Where did all of this hate come ...

This is the third and final installment of the changed-by-divorce posts. What has been perhaps the most surprising change can be seen in my body. What was once a thing of ... um, well, not a thing of beauty, but a thing less hideous than it is now, has become a thing of ... well, kind of a crime scene.  I've never been a big dude. Never been very strong. I'm just a regular guy. All around ... regular. Just a dude. Nothing special. I preferred to have sex with the lights off when I used to have sex because there just isn't anything exciting about my body. That was then. And this is now.  I can't even imagine having sex with a woman. Mostly because my body is at its worst state since I can remember. I could liken it to several types of livestock. Let's just say I've embraced middle age in a BIG way. It's great, really. Kinda liberating. Until I look in the mirror.   It's not like I'd even know what to do with a woman anymore. I don't rem...

  One of the weird things about me is that I forget about myself. That may seem strange to my readers, as I'm writing about myself here an awful lot. However, this forum is the exception. My life is not my blog, though I talk about my life here. Most of the time, I simply disappear. Maybe we all do this to some extent. Anyway, as a fun excuse to write, I thought I'd post a few of my favorite things (and strangely enough, somehow Taylor Swift shows up yet again). Here they are in no particular order.   Food - I've always thought food was pretty bomb. When I was a baby, I was eating food. In fact, I still eat food. I eat food almost every day! Though the importance of food has become pretty basic (as in, I need it to live), I still think food is pretty great. While there aren't any "floor lunches" with meats and cheeses and breads and olives and other stuff from Zingerman's anymore, I still get down for some boiled peanuts and pistachio ice crea...