April 14, 2010

The Chasm

Ever go to one of those state or national parks with a gorge, or canyon? There's always a ledge you can walk out on, and scrunch your tippy toes over the edge, and look down at the vastness, and the depth, and think Fuck. I'm an inch away from Death.

Then the vertigo kicks in, because we don't even have the primordial recklessness of the damn monkey, and you get a bit dizzy, and your eyes roll back in your head for a moment. Only a moment. And you step away. To safety. To the net.

My toes have been hanging over the precipice for a couple of months now. And, yes. My eyes be rolling back in my head like a fucking porn star. But I just can't do the natural thing, and step back from the chasm. That would be pure boredom. An intolerable state of affairs.

Here's the rub: even a psychotic like me could use a little companionship now and then, even if only to berate them for their fore-ordained ignorance. (That would be my one joke I'm offering here).

Fact is, I wouldn't have anyone who would have me. On a Venn Diagram them circles would not touch. Problematic.

I don't have much to offer in the way of empathy, or compassion. That's for the fellows in the insurance commercials who want to leave a Family Well Provided For. I want someone who inherits a bag of shit of bills. Who has to cremate me for price considerations, and then has to field threatening calls from my bookie while her car is being repossessed, even as she's thinking I was just slapping my titties in his face yesterday, the poor guy. And that demographic is pretty fucking skinny.

No, the girl I often think I want would force me to church, and attempt to cure me of sloth. That would be frightful. On the other hand, she would not have tattooes, the millenial indication of a brain damaged by groupthink and poseurism. How do you get a fucking tattoo, anywhats? As soon as one gets the bastard, one thinks of something better. I prefer scribbling with a Sharpie on my nutsack. Things like Tao! And Get Some Bread Today! Because I am invariably somewhere around my nutsack at some point during a typical day. Form and function. See?

At any rate, prospects are bleak, unless I find a slightly addle-pated woman with the breasts of Jayne Mansfield, Tourette Syndrome, a penny lodged in the cognitive portion of her brain, and the vagina of a circus midget.

There has to four or five of them out there.

Posted by Velociman at April 14, 2010 7:14 PM | TrackBack
Comments

Dude, your daughter is a fucking cheerleader!!! Surely she could introduce you to someone...

Posted by: rob sama at April 14, 2010 8:21 PM

Send pics.

Posted by: og at April 14, 2010 8:33 PM

I hear Sandra Bullock is free.

Don't find one too terribly young. You'll end up explaining all your jokes.

Posted by: Joan of Argghh! at April 14, 2010 8:37 PM

Have you tried Facebook? Because surely someone on there is doing daily searches for "I'm looking for a woman with a vagina like a circus midget". Reap it!

Posted by: Patrick at April 14, 2010 8:56 PM

Get Some Bread Today! Well, I suppose that's one way to keep from misplacing the grocery list. Might cause a bit of consternation in the dairy aisle when you drop trou to cross something off.

I have heard that a grocery store is a good place to meet people, though. When a big bosomed midget woman walks up to you, ponders your list, and says, "Oh! I forgot to get butter!", I hope you have a net handy. They don't make those paper shopping bags as sturdy as they used to.

Posted by: PeggyU at April 14, 2010 9:34 PM

Sorry, those women have already been hunted to extinction.

Posted by: vanderleun at April 14, 2010 10:19 PM

Vanderleun hunted them to extinction.

Iran. The women are attractive, want out, and will make you any deal you want, gratitude included.

Posted by: james wilson at April 14, 2010 11:49 PM

Cheer Up - It's not necessary to obtain sexual relief and intellectual stimulation/companionship from the same source. If one has "special needs" in either category, a specialist is recommended.

In the spirit of trying to help, and to have some Velociwriting in a more permanent form, I've purchased the Kim Crawford book.

Hang tough Bruddah - you are not alone.

Posted by: Guaman at April 15, 2010 5:06 AM

"the girl I often think I want . . . "

That could your problem, but I imagine you're already aware of this.

Stop wanting because desire is always for something/someone/somewhere/sometime that you do not have.

As for your intolerable state of pure boredom, my second ex-wife teetered about the same cliff edge. She just couldn't stand being bored - without restraints, anyway. We'd have to jump up and go Somewhere to do Something. At times, that leads to fun. Other times, it's just a journey without a destination because there is always more fun Somewhere Else. Always. Why not have fun where you are?

Posted by: arcs at April 15, 2010 8:48 AM

Go get you a black woman, it may change your luck.

Posted by: Catfish at April 15, 2010 10:10 AM

Yeah, it has worked out so well for so many black men.

Posted by: vanderleun at April 15, 2010 12:06 PM

I second Guaman's advice. If you aren't finding that all-purpose emotional support and bonding/recreational fun times partner/sex freaky wildwoman in the same person, then outsource what isn't working. You seem alpha enough to be able to manage this.

Posted by: Desert Cat at April 15, 2010 12:14 PM

"slightly addle-pated woman with the breasts of Jayne Mansfield, Tourette Syndrome, a penny lodged in the cognitive portion of her brain, and the vagina of a circus midget."

Awesome. Totally awesome.

Posted by: Lewis at April 15, 2010 2:00 PM

Well, I'm not gonna ask what happened (cause I'm pretty fuckin' sure it was your fault), but I will say that a current Amex card nailed to the forehead, or a simple trip to Lowe's will get any man laid.

Posted by: Dick at April 15, 2010 3:12 PM

Be of good cheer, Hombre.

After all, a woman is only a woman, but a good cigar is a pudgy Jewish intern.

Posted by: slackjawedyokel at April 15, 2010 3:33 PM

Properly (and minimally) edited, this post would make a dandy classified for placement in the Personals.

And then again, the world is crying out for a thrash-metal band that calls itself "Circus Midget Vagina." Or at least I am.

Posted by: Elisson at April 15, 2010 4:30 PM

Let's see if we can write that ad:

"Shiftless asshole seeks tattoo-free, slightly addle-pated woman with the breasts of Jayne Mansfield, Tourette Syndrome, a penny lodged in the cognitive portion of her brain, and the vagina of a circus midget. Object: Church attendance and horsewhipping.

Send photo of horsewhip to: velociman@gmail.com"

Posted by: Desert Cat at April 15, 2010 8:08 PM

Ah, I forgot the Sugar Mama requirement...

Posted by: Desert Cat at April 15, 2010 8:12 PM

V-man....The writing thing doth inhibit your romance thing. As it does most so gifted.

But then you knew that and in your own way this is just throwing the chaf into the wind hoping beyond hope that a seed perhaps falls on fertile soil.

You are alas beyond hope. One can either reject it or embrace it.

Cries for help do not become you.

Posted by: A Slow Boat To Purgatory at April 15, 2010 11:10 PM

Two words: hookers.

Posted by: bitterman at April 15, 2010 11:20 PM

I with ya on all except the boredom stuff. I am CaptainSQL!!!!!!! and shall remain so, even tho the ill winds of unemployment or the next crap job buffet my soul. Because I turn the challenging into dull routine, paid or not.

I has spoken!

Posted by: Cappy at April 16, 2010 7:54 AM

All of the circles overlap on a Venn diagram. You would just block out any sections where the circle representing you and the woman who wants you intersect.

Posted by: Alex at April 16, 2010 11:32 AM

Are you my little brother in disguise?

Posted by: Nicole at April 16, 2010 3:06 PM

I'm wondering how you would have sounded if your vacation hadn't done you good. Nice to smell your opinions again.

Try Craig's list. Watch out for the Feds.

Posted by: dr kill at April 16, 2010 7:47 PM

You might have had some luck during Bike Week.
They'll be back in October.
Buff up, get a tan.

Posted by: Jean at April 16, 2010 9:33 PM

Actually, Gerard, it has. The black guys who don't buy it, generally end up in prison or dead. As do their offspring.

Kim,

I'd love to help a brotha out, but I'd make you go to church too.

Posted by: baldilocks at May 4, 2010 4:14 PM

Ah, V-man doth nail the zeitgeist again. Apologies for the fact that I am bound to lift large portions of this for my Plenty of Fish profile. Oh, not to get laid. I know how to get laid. It'll piss off the humorless, and cause the rest to spout coffee from their nostrils.

Posted by: Casca at May 10, 2010 2:21 PM

Ah, V-man doth nail the zeitgeist again. Apologies for the fact that I am bound to lift large portions of this for my Plenty of Fish profile. Oh, not to get laid. I know how to get laid. It'll piss off the humorless, and cause the rest to spout coffee from their nostrils.

Posted by: Casca at May 10, 2010 2:21 PM

It's just a dry spell, and like any slump you come out of it (or retire, only those two options). See as you have many prime years left just keep swinging (the nutsack) and your bound to hit something.

Posted by: Dishonorable Schoolboy at June 8, 2010 1:36 PM

He's dead.
Somebody get a bag!

Posted by: dick at July 13, 2010 2:32 PM
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