THE SETTLEMENT

She made out like a bandit.

She got half my fingers, half my toes, and one of my eyebrows.

I was willing to give her my right knee but she was too savvy and knew that was my bad knee so she demanded the right one.

The Judge sided with her noting that NY State law is very clear on this point and states that after twenty years of marriage the good knee goes to her.

She demanded and got full ownership of all my vowels and shared credit on any witty comment I make in perpetuity.

After a bloody negotiation, she managed to get full custody of my pleasant thoughts.   I held out and won visitation rights.

But I had to give up 85% of all my dreams—and, get this,  her wily lawyer slipped in an exclusion clause on my nightmares.

She insisted on a clause where she would be taken out of all the shared memories we have of each other.

We came to a mutual agreement my imagination would be put in trust for the kids.

She also walked away with my infectious laugh.

The knives came out when we began to negotiate for my torso.  I wanted to give her my bottom torso but when the appraiser gave my penis a low appraisal—she demanded the upper torso.

The Judge showed me mercy and I got to keep the top while the bottom went to her.  Of course she had to be a bitch and refused to take my penis saying derisively “I have no use for it, now” as she threw it back to me.

I attempted to close my eyes but her lawyer immediately filed for an injunction to keep them open.

It went on for two years—she snared my mouth, my immune system, my unusual outlook in life and my survival instinct.

She let me keep my tears.        

After we signed off, my friends reassured me I would rebuild my life.

But how I can rebuild my life when all I have left are five fingers, a boney ass, and a penis who will need years of counseling to get over all this?

Part 10: MEMORIES OF FALLING OUT OF THE FIJI TREE.

 I sat in the darkness of both my mind and apartment.   My loving companion,  my 50 inch television,  projected a never ending stream of  horrific images: nuclear Japan, the vacuum  of Libya and The Situation's  performance on the Donald Trump Roast on the Comedy Channel.  Thoughts air popped into my head.  The  9.0 magnitude of my new existence hit me. I had this mental urge to think of a metaphor that best expressed my own new life.  And then, in the deep night, it came to me: Keith Richard falling out of a Fiji tree and getting a concussion was the zen koan I was seeking.  I had fell out of the Fiji tree.

 The loop of my marriage played over and over like  Godfather week on Bravo.   The early years of my marriage was like The Godfather 1 and 2.  It all worked.   The last two years was all The Godfather 3.  It was like Al Pacino's hair , Sofia Coppola's performance, and that cockamamie Vatican-Mafia connection shit. Nothing made sense.  There was no story there.  I had the complete memory-dvd collection of The Marriage Part 1,2,3 playing non-stop.






  
 :                                    
            

I love you I really do I am so happy so so happy you are the best guy in the world i love you so much I can't believe how lucky I am to have you and you're lucky to have me i know you are such a good guy and you're so cute give me a kiss bmmmmwhaaaa give me a hug i love you you're so cute the way you eat is so cute and the way you walk and I love it how well read you are you read all the books I can't wait for you to get home to work and let's have a baby and a house and  and we'll be all be together and have a happy family and we'll just have a such a good life together maybe you'll learn how to play golf we both can tinker around the house you can build things you and me and the kids and we'll have a family and dogs it's what I always wanted  are you hungry I made you this big sandwich lets watch tv together so cozy are you cozy relax watch tv you work so hard you must have had a hard day at work i love it when you drive up in the driveway and you're with me, mmmm, you're such a good kisser you have a cute mouth I like the way you dress it's adorable you are so handsome i know you love me and i love you and i can't live without you i don't know what I would do if I didn't find you you're funny how you read the Sunday Times what a mess, you're a character i like that you're different, i like that you're a character and you dress differently than the other guys and you read and you know so many things I just don't know what I would do without you....what would I do without you...

1 year, 2 year 3 year, 4 year, 5 year, 6 year, 7 year, 8 year, 9 year, 10 year, 11 year, 12 year 13 year, 14, year, 15 year, 16 year, 17 year, 18 year, 19 year, 20 year...







:

Can you close the door to the freezer, look at how everything is melted every time you leave the bathroom the sink is disgusting clean the mirror and that razor yuck why do you wear socks like that the fridge handle is sticky is that a glob of yoghurt on the floor and you walked right over it can't you see the mess you don't see the mess? why does the car have to be so messy get rid of those books and magazines why can't we go over to the Horowitz's they want to show us their new patio furniture you don't like it when I have my book club over there the least you can do is say hello to my friends why can't you just answer the phone you just let it ring so it's not for you, answer it it just rings, can you please pick up the dog poop in the back that's your job do something around the house you do nothing, nothing I hate the way you eat, i don't get your diet, eat a steak once in awhile you should have married someone else  not that shirt that shirt?not that shirt  remember when we loved each other all you do now is sit on the couch and watch those black and white movies with the sub titles why do you like those old films so much i don't get it  why are you watching japanese movies we never touch like we use to, going to dinner with you is torture, living with you is torture HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU TO TIGHTEN THE CAP ON THE SELTZER BOTTLE IT GOES FLAT how many times do I have to tell you TIGHTEN THE CAP TO THE SELTZER BOTTLE WHY DO I HAVE TO KEEP ASKING THIS you wore that shirt when i first met you think it's time you throw it away we have nothing to say to each other anymore we're so different, i like to ski and garden and you i don't even know what you like you just like to sit on the couch and watch black and white movies with subtitles when i met you i thought you were eclectic and well read but all you do is read the same books how many times can you read about the Mafia and the Nazis what station are you listening to who was that on the phone you don't talk on the phone to me like that who was that...can you eat slower, you eat too fast, chew your food chew....you should eat more greens again with the Mafia and nazis,  the same books over and over again, you should read this book,it's a good book  it's seeing life  in a more positive better than reading those  Nazi books how can you read that those frozen ice bars are driving me crazy how many do you eat everytime you eat the frozen ice pops you drip on the floor do you have to drip on the floor when you eat look at all those drips on the floor you better do something with your hearing you can't hear everytime i talk to you you don't hear me I don't get it  hello hello I'm talking to you that bathtub is disgusting clean it out after you take a bath why do you shove the garbage in the bag like that if you see it's filled,throw it out why can't you just throw it out you do nothing in this house nothing all you do is sit around and watch those black and white films and read  those crazy books about  Mafia and Nazis and get crumbs on the new couch  do something other husbands do all my friends' husbands work around the house why can't you fix things around the house just because you grew up in an apartment doesn't mean you can't fix things around the house other men fix things they work in the garden they clean up the garage this saturday why don't you clean up the garage you eat the same thing over and over again i don't get it don't you want variety your stomach is always upset you're always complaining ever since i known you you complained,your stomach is always upset do you have to fart near me please don't fart hold it in, you can hold it in just hold it in its very disrespectful Me Fart? I never fart  go live in the city you'll be happier  ever since we moved up here you complained I thought you would change I thought once you moved up here you would change why that look? what's with that look? what's that look...what are you thinking about now you always live inside your head...hello, are you there...

                                                                                                        

....hello, hello...why can't you take a walk up here it's beautiful why don't you take the dogs for a walk so the streets are named Elm and Maple so what I don't get that, what's wrong with that you know I'm tired of hearing how you hate the lawn and how you hate to pay to get the lawn cut  and how you wish the lawn was concrete and how you hate to pay for the guy to snow plow old movies that's all you watch look at this table your place is always sticky why does it have to be sticky you have boxes and boxes of frozen ice bars in the freezer do you need all those books lets throw out some of your books why do you need all those books you read the same books over and over again you know it drives me crazy how you mess up the papers before I read then can't you fold it neatly it drives me crazy and I am sick and tired of opening a magazine and see it all sticky from your frozen ice bars look at this the pages are all stuck together do you have to read a book about Concentration Camps when we're eating dinner  say something talk! just show me some evidence you're alive  so how was your day at work  tell me the idea you had you never tell me your ideas what was your idea at work yeah that's  pretty stupid you look depressed why are you depressed you look so depressed what does your shrink say you should get another shrink she's not doing anything for you how can you be so depressed I don't get it why are you so depressed..

Part 8 Alogorithms of the Heart

I didn't waste any time and immediately dove into the world of online dating in the hot pursuit of finding another relationship I could fuck up.

But what dating site?  Match.com?   E-harmony.com? Sexy Nutjobs.com?  Desperate People.com?  No Way in Hell.com?  YouGottaBeKidding.com?

I went on one well known dating-site.  A banner popped up and said I could  have a free trial search. Wow, I could search for women for free!  Good.  At least I can get a taste for what's in store.  All I had to do was fill out the questionaire.  Not an easy process.

There was some tough questions, too   I had to check off  a long list of activities and interests men and women like to do.  But I didn't see a box for "Feeling sorry for myself" "Rant"  "Obsess" 

In the "Describe Yourself"  section I wrote: I am  a six foot tall martial arts teacher who writes poetry,  likea to cook gourmet dinners, find romantic hideaways in the Himalayas,  rescue dogs, go on humanatarian missions to the Sudan,  and on Sunday hop on my Harley and go antiquing with the Hells Angels.

But then thought it was a tad of a stretch, so I wrote:

 Creative warm-hearted guy who has a passion for film, art, nyc and people watching.

I soon discovered there were hundreds if not thousands of creative, warm hearted guys who have a passion for film, art, nyc and people.  

Eventually I completed the questionaire with an equal mix of bullshit and truth.  The site instantly went to work trying to find me a potential mate.

I discovered it  truly was a wonderful site and they came through with women who would love to meet me: And from their descriptions, they all shared common interests with me.

I like to sit on the couch and go through the entire 120 channels without really stopping on any channel longer than five minutes.

I love love love to wear New Balance Sneakers every day even in the rain.  And spend quiet, romantic evenings cuddling and watching the fall of Berlin on the Military channel.

 I like the pre-cooked turkey breast in Trader Joe's, steamed vegetables and hoping to meet a jewish guy who just separated from his wife who talks passionately with food in his mouth.

But then I thought.  Wait a minute.  Is this some kind of scam?  I mean, I know I'm drop dead gorgeous, but were they using these beautiful academians to lure me into shelling out 150 bucks for a six month membership?

Ah, what the heck.  I took out my credit card and bought a six month membership.  Now that I was a six

month member of Match, I went pressed the search button.  Wham!  Another set of perfect matches came up.    A slightly different skew of women:

I fell for it.  They should change the name of the site to Sucker.Com.

My next move was to go on Craigslist.  Yeah, I heard a lot of stories about how it's just a site for freaks and sleazy escort services, but looking at some of the ads, it seemed like some nice, sincere women, too.

Before I wrote my ad, I thought I would take a look at what some of the other guys wrote to get an idea of how to write my own ad.    I made some intereating observations.  Contrary to most women's belief that all men were liars, there were some guys who had the strong character trait of honesty like this guy:

MATURE BUSTY GAL WANTED - 51 (NY)

And guys who seemed to ponder profound questions of existence:




Do you have a nice ass? (Downtown)
The ads themselves were really well written.  Some guys were big hearted and weren't afraid of giving:

Did you awaken with an itch you don't want to scratch by yourself? - 46 (Upper East Side)

Oh, you could, and I understand that the Japanese even make devices (some battery operated) that can help you reach that pulsing need and help out if nothing better is at hand. But there is something -- someone -- better at hand. Me. I'm tall, fit, healthy, fun to talk to, reasonably handsome, D/D free (but I don't mind if you do weed or otherwise engage in responsible self-medication), intellectually stimulating (because there are times when your mind needs to be stimulated along with the flesh) and well equipped for the task at hand.

For the right woman (non-obese, sensible, no STDs, discreet), I can be a much better alternative than going it alone, and lots lots more fun, too. /

The women, on the other hand, were seeking another level of romance:

Seeking a LTR and maybe start a family. - 40 (Norwalk)

 Looking for a LTR and maybe start a family with the right person.

I am looking for someone family oriented wanting to build a happy life together.

I'm intelligent,honest and down to earth. If you feel the same please e-mail me. Please be from CT.

As I read both the men's ads and the women's ads I actually saw some perfect matches.   For example: This woman whose love of culture and all things intellectual and artistic:

Spring Gift: Beauty/Intellect - 59 (Manhattan)

 Thinker, artist spirited, graceful, energetic, intellectually curious and caring. Enjoy good conversation and communication. SWF, very young looking.

A head turner, slender, 5 feet 7 inches tall, exotic looking, I look Italian, Greek, Latin or Spanish. I am slim, hazel eyes, Auburn hair, light olive skin.

Interested in cultural activities such as museums, galleries, theater, music, literature, dance and cinema.

My Latin nature loves to dance and the artist in me enjoys the arts. Do you live in New York City, single/divorced, attractive, professional, kind successful, good conversationalist, interested in the arts, enjoy candlelight dinners, would you care to join me? Are you 58 or over?)/

...would be a perfect match for this guy whose rapier wit made him him a modern day Oscar Wilde:

----

I only use Magnum condoms... - 33 (Upper West Side)

...to make water balloons.

I am interested in meeting an adventurous, sexy (both in looks and attitude), positive, and educated woman.

Not interested in escorts, strippers, drug users, or shallow people. No drama, no baggage. I generally go for white or Asian but open to others.

Words get in the way to define what I want...FWB, NSA, LTR, etc. I realized I can't fit into the labels. Instead, what I want is ultimately, to simply make a memorable and intimate connection (body & mind) with a fascinating woman. Where it goes depends power of the connection, as we surrender to the mystery of this elusive force that drives us and keeps us in pursuit. Do you measure up? Why would I want to get to know you?

I am SWM, grad degree educated, gainfully employed, handsome, witty, funny, and I know how to please those that deserve it./

----

I decided not to write any ads, but to answer ads.  I did some of my best writing on Craigslist.  My talent for finding new and addictive ways to get a hit of Dopamaine was working big time.  I became obsessed with seeing if I got any answers to the ads I've written.  Most of the time I didn't get any response.   Generally when I sent my profile pic.  A profile pic is essential, it's the bait that lures the pretty fishes to the hook, it's a big selling point.  Unfortunately my photo wasn't a true representation of how I actually looked.  But it was the only photo I had at the time:

My ad writing flourished.  On  the second or third day on Craigslist I answered an ad with the headline:  

DESIRE

There was a flowery prose style to her ad.   I wrote back in a prosiac style.

It was pure poetry.  And it worked.  She bought it.  She wrote me back.  We went back and forth with some pseudo phoney intellectual bullshit--then she asked me to describe myself.  I did.  Ending with: "I'm mean, lean, and cut."

She wrote: " Cut?  Do you have that line that goes from the hip to the groin?"

I wrote back:  "As a matter of fact, I do."

She wrote:  "Hmmm, I wonder what would happen if I gently moved my finger from your hip to the groin."

What would happen instantly happened.  The Dopamine kick was kickin' big time.  Our e mails now took a sly, erotic turn.

I wanted to send a photograph.  But she refused to send a photograph.

She was very secretitive and kind of paranoid.  She said she wanted our relationship to be mysterious, intriguing.

Then she called me.  We talked on the phone for over two hours.  The subject matter on the phone conversation was very different from the e mails.

She was from Singapore.  Half Chinese and Indian.  She once worked for the diplomatic core and she always referred to herself in the third person.  Her name was Sulan.

Sulan:  "Oh, Sulan never does anything she doesn't want to do.  No one tells Sulan want to do.  Sulan was married and divorced and now Sulan is  free.  Sulan will not give up her freedom."  

We discussed a wide range of subjects.  Most of it intellectual and philosophical.  She worked in a hospice.  She read many many books.  She expressed her hesitation about continuing our growing relationship-she thought it was too early for me to be in a new relationship.

We spoke for two hours.  Very straight and intellectual.   And then, bizarrely,  the flirty, sexual e mails with the sexual overtones were back in town.

We exchanged e mails every morning.  

It was the third day of our email-ationship.  I was looking for things for my apartment--when I received a text from her.

Sulan's Text:   WHAT ARE YOU'RE WEARING?

Yeah, baby, I said in my best Austin Powers accent.  

My Text:    BRIEFS

It was love at first text.  I can't believe it.  I found someone who shared my interests!!!

I wasn't sure where this was leading, but for two hours we kept exchanging e mails that slowly and sensually built to out and out, down and dirty sexting.   My sextexts were getting hotter.  And so were her replies:

Sulan's Text:    WHY STROKE, WHEN I COULD USE MY MOUTH?

That opened the door, and what spilled out from my mind was pure disgusting filth that would definitely pull in a full time job writing for the  Penthouse Forum.

Sulan's Text:  HOW DO YOU LIKE TO DO IT?

I told her.  And then I asked how she likes to do it?

Sulan's Text:  I LIKE TO DO IT ON THE FLOOR, ON THE TABLE,  I LIKE IT TO DO  IT IN PUBLIC PLACES.

I replied back with equal abandon and truth.

 She then texted me:

Sulan's Text:  WHERE ARE YOU RIGHT NOW?

Me:                  I'M IN BED BATH AND BEYOND.

I was.  I was in the linen department in Bed, Bath an Beyond holding a comforter and  a shower curtain under my arm, banging out the texts with such mad glee the manager asked  me to leave because my panting was distracting  the customers.

When I got home she called me.  Thinking this was the moment where we dive into some hot phone sex.  The intellectual Sulan was on the other side.

No sexual overtones.  Again, referring herself in the third person.

Sulan:  Oh, Sulan loves all kinds of beauty.  Sulan can just sit under a tree and become a part of nature.  Sulan doesn't really need men.  Sulan will flow like the spirit of the wind.   

But the  erotic, tropical air flow of our texts returned and flowed the next few days.  For luck, I made sure I was in Bed, Bath and Beyond every night holding a comforter and a shower curtain under my arm.  But I had to hide from the manager in kitchenware.   

Because we never exchanged photographs, we never knew what we actually looked like.  It made it all the more sexually intriguing.  Finally, the day came.  I waited inside the vestibule of the restaurant at 12 sharp.  A thin sexy Asian woman walked in and I looked up with a big smile.  But she walked right by me and and sat at a table where a business guy was sitting.

Then she walked in.  We looked at each other.

Me: Sulan?

Sulan:  Yes?  Are you...?

 "Yeah.  Hi.  It's so nice to meet you. Boy, what a rainy day. Want to sit down?"

We sat down and looked at each other.  Our body language mirrored reach other. Crossed arms, crossed legs, crossed eyes.  I would have top say it was a tad uncomfortable.

The waiter walked over to the table.  He read off the specials of the day for the next five minutes--which took the pressure off - and then asked if we were ready to order.

Sulan:  I'll just have a small glass of Coke.  

Me:     Me, too.   And we'll get the check.

I stopped going to Bed Bath and Beyond. 

But I kept going  on Craigslist.  And I also went on this free dating site OK Cupid.  I put up my profile pic and sent a quirky message to a woman who had an interesting look.  I was attracted to her unconventional style.  After a few days, I got a response from her.

She was cool, creative and rock and roll slutty.  We wrote funny e mails, I learned she was a performer,  dancer and lived in Brooklyn.  

 We decided not to talk to each other on the phone.   We wanted to surprise ourselves.  But, I have to admit, my emails were pretty good and one night she called me.  I heard a party in the background.

Cheryl:  I couldn't help myself I had to hear your voice.

Me:       It's a bit Brooklyn.  Not sure if it goes with the emails.

Cheryl:  I like your voice.  It has character.  What about mine.

Me:       I like your voice.  Sexy.

Cheryl:  Tell me something provocative.

I wasn't sure what she meant.  Yet, I was pretty sure what she meant.

Me:      Provocative?

Cheryl (she whispered):  Yes, provocative.  Tell me something provocative.

Me:  You know, I have to be honest with you.  I'm looking for a solid relationship.  Don't get me wrong, I'm pretty crazy and like to do crazy things, too, but think it's not the right thing to do if we want something that lasting. That's what I'm looking for.

Cheryl:  You're right.  Absolutely right.  It's what I'm looking for, too.  I'm not really like that.  I'm a good girl.  And you are so right and really I respect you for saying that.  I want something long lasting, too.

The phone sex  was hot and heavy for a pretty long time.

My creative powers were in full bloom.  After it was all over:

Me:  I really didn't want to do that.

Cheryl:  Me neither.

The next day we met.  We sat for a two hours, exchanging our life stories.   We agreed to meet again once she gets out of rehab.

I kept at it and met a lot of great women.

One woman I met was a psychiatrist.  I thought: I don't know if it's  such a good thing for me to meet a psychiatrist.  But she was very interesting. We met for coffee and talked for  50 minutes.  She was bright, funny, and she also took Cigna.

Online dating is  not the most natural way of finding someone. Best case scenario would be to just let it happen.  I'm still searching.     But, man, there are times where I have to ask myself: Why?  Why go through all the pain and rejection and disappointment?  Why go through  moments of    "You're not my type."  "Do you want to get together again."  "Not really.  "Hey, I never received a response from you?  "Sorry, not interested."

Whenever I ask "why?", I remember  the writings of one of the greatest philosophers of the 20th Century, whose words expressed a deep insight into the metaphysics of a man's soul:

Part 7 Friends.net

But there was a lot of  good coming out of all this, too.  I had a lot of great friends who gave me a lot of love and support.   And they all gave me solid advice.  Some of my women friends said take your time, find yourself again, build a new life, you have to learn to love yourself again.   And the guys really came through with ways that would help change my perspective of the situation:

                                                          

  Every one of my friends gave me solid advice on how to handle the tough situation.  Stu really had an insight into my new life.

Stu:   What the hell are you complaining for?  Don't you get it.  You're free.  You have all this freedom.   You can just go out there and do anything you want.  Anything  No discussions.  No negotiations.  No obligations.  It's your own life. Free as a bird. You can live life for you.  You're free, man, free!  Jeez, I gotta go.  I have to pick up my wife's dry cleaning before the cleaners closes.

My friend Annie was very supportive and really came through with some wise words.

Annie:    Take your time.  You don't need to rush into a relationship right away.  You need to find yourself again.  You need to be you.  I really think doing yoga would be good for you.  It would relax you.  You need to find your center.  And from that center you will find calm, tranquility--you'll be at a better place.  And from that better place, you'll be able to have a strong relationship.  You'll be able to be more giving in the relationship"

Meanwhile, my friend Al,  had a slightly different take:

Al: Go find yourself some young chick and fuck your brains out.  Listen to me  That's the best medicine for you right now. Go fuck your brains out.  I know it's hard, and you're feeling a lot of pain.  I know, I've been there.  Three times.  So listen to your buddy Al.  Find yourself a young girl with big tits and fuck your brains.  Okay?  You'll do that for your buddy Al?

Me:  Okay.

Al:  Fuck.  Your.  Brains.  Out.  Say it after me.  I...

Me  Al, please, come on...

Al:   Hey, hey...come on I want you to say it.  ...I will...

Me:  ...I will...

Al:   ... Fuck...

Me:    ... Fuck...

Al:  ...  My...

Me:      My...

Al:  ...brains out.

Me:   ... brains out.

Al:  Want me to write it down so you remember?

Me:  No, Al, thanks, really.  Now I know why you run  Human Resources.  You're really a people person.

Al:  No problem.  I got to go.  But I'll send you a text, later, to remind you.

 I don't know how I made it through that week without the love and support of my friends  There wasn't a day that would go by that  my friends didn't call.  And, Al, bless his soul was a great friend.   And even though I knew his constant barrage of "Go Fuck Your Brains Out" texts  came from the heart, it was getting a little annoying

                                               

Part 6 A Moment of Reflection

\

                                      

       

I wobbled into the bathroom, turned on the bathroom light and stood there, staring at my reflection.  Time etched on my face.  I spoke to the man in the mirror.

Me:  Why?  Why did this happen?  There has to be some reason why I couldn't make the marriage work.

Suddenly, staring back at me was my mother,  speaking to me in that sweet, loving tone of voice that brought back all those fond memories of her fucking my head up.

Mom:  Stop feeling sorry for yourself.  There's a lot of good looking men as old as you with thinning hair that meet lots of nice women. Stand up straight.  You got to do something with that posture.  How many times I told you to sit up straight when you were at the table.  Didn't I tell you that.  Didn't I say you were going to get bad posture?  Well, Mr. Big Shot, you're posture is not so good. Didn't I tell you? What are you worried about? You have a good job.  How come your commercials  aren't as funny as they use to be?
Maybe you should get new glasses.   You know what you're problem is, you're angry, why are you so angry?  Was I that bad of a mother?   I was a good mother to you, I never once said anything mean-- are you brushing your teeth, it's a little yellow, I don't know what to do with you.  Maybe you should move near me.  Forget her.  She was a nice woman but I knew you two weren't right for each other.  You need someone to take care of you. Maybe you should move near me.  You're a bright boy. There's plenty of crazy women like you out there you can meet. You know what you're problem is?  You don't have any confidence.   Why so neurotic?  I don't understand it.  I was such a bad mother?  You know what--you aged a little.  What's the big deal, we all age. You got a lot going for you--you look thin, are you still with that crazy diet of yours? Your complexion doesn't look so good.  It's red and blotchy.    Are you using the right soap?  You always had bad complexion, ever since you were born you had problems with your face.  I just don't understand why your relationship didn't last

 Suddenly it  dawned on me.  For the last five minutes, I was listening to someone else's mother in my bathroom mirror.

Part 5 In Space, No One Can Hear You Scream

That night  l passed  a lone shoe oddly sitting in the middle of the sidewalk on 1st ave.  I stopped and just stared at it and wondered why only one shoe? What happened to the other shoe?  Shoes are supposed to be in pairs.  I truly felt that shoe's loneliness.  And right then and there, I decided to use the image of that lonely size 9  shoe to write a pretentious metaphor.

The first night sleeping in my new apartment was surreal.  It was very Philip Guston.  Philip Guston  started out as an Abstract Expressionist painter who took a sudden turn down a creative path and went from the abstraction of that period to bizarre cartoony images of disembodied heads,  hob nailed shoes, hooded klux klan men painting chomping on a  big cigar or cigarette. The critics hated it.  But, to me, it was a brilliant expression of his own disembodied mind and soul, isolation, and paranoia--that also paralleled  the same disembodied  mind and soul and paranoia that the country was experiencing at the time.  

It was a period in my life of discoveries.  I discovered many things.  I discovered that the fitted sheets I brought from home didn't fit my bed so the ends popped everytime I was on it.  I discovered that some guy named Joey lived in my building because all night his friend kept yelling under my window "Jo-eyyy!  Jo-eyyy!!!! Jo-eyyy,  I got that thing!"  I discovered that to stop the toilet water constantly swirling  I had to jiggle the handle everytime I flushed   I discovered my upstairs neighbor was the worst kind of insomniac.  One who wore dutch clogs.

Laying on my new CB2 modern couch that had all the comfort of a trampoline, the movie of my marriage played in my head.   I couldn't help play over and over again all the mistakes I had made.  My wife was a saint, a good hearted woman and we both worked on trying to keep the marriage together.  But, to be honest, I wasn't the easiest person to get along with.  I was a bit, how shall you say intense.   And there were many incidents that must have been very hard for her. Like that one incident on the plane,  when we went on vacation to Aruba.  I believe after that, it was the beginning of the end.

                                                    

Eventually  the soothing voice of my neighbor wafted through the thin walls  and rocked me to sleep: "I'm not leaving the apartment I lived in for 30 years! You hear me!   I'm not leaving the apartment I lived in for 30 years!   I'm not leaving!  You can throw me out in the street for all you want!  I'm not leaving!"