For The Record

Picture 159To my treasured faithful readers. I apologize. But this one is for me.

“Marty, step forward please”

Marty somewhat hesitantly, noticeably nervous, and with furtive side to side glances, takes a small step forward, separating him from an awkward line of shifty, disheveled and unkempt, obviously misplaced losers.

“For outstanding analysis and fearless …  some, nay most … would say reckless …  prediction … you …  Marty WayOut There  …

have been awarded the prestigious, and we wanted to do this now, because we absolutely hate posthumous …

Prolific and Perilous Prognosticator Plaque

This honor is not easily won. In fact very few recipients survive to be able to collect on it. Even fewer can bear and live through the outcome. Hence it is not without heavy consideration for it even to be awarded. You, Marty deserve all of our admiration.

No one would have, could have imagined how accurate you have been. In recognition of this, the citation attached to the plaque reads”

‘ To Marty WayOut There. For your fearless forensic foretelling, your careful, consistent calculation of consequences, for your daring disregard of dire dilemma, and not least your willingness to abandon the moral high ground, this award is presented.’

… Marty, even though no one but you and I will ever know what the heck this is even about, you can be proud of your accomplishment. Congratulations!”








Attending to the Garden

Spring is an appropriate time for this. To pare. Whittle down the collection. Get at some long neglected pruning.  I’m in one of those this really needs to be done moods.  Sometimes unrelated events will set me to thinking. Other times to action.

I am involved with too many women right now. Or more appropriately the investment is no longer yielding an adequate return in some areas. Patience has run thin.

Judicious pruning should yield new shoots. Additional growth. Fewer boughs to distract the sun. More pleasure.



Mon Beau Papillon

Viceroy_Butterfly[1]You have now alit mon beau papillon.

I am so at a loss.

I want to protect you, shield you, help you. But I cannot.  All you are going through right now would overwhelm anyone. The personal traumas, the work, and now the missing love.

And you call out for your old self. She was always there you say now. I know she never left. That, I always knew. You liked to pretend she was gone. You flit back and forth, totally  committed one day. Disappearing the next.

“We’re quite the contrast,” I say.

“Opposites attract,” you smirk.


1291450088_small[1]You are so curious. I think I like it.

You have discovered I am never exactly as I seem. It’s not that simple, is it?

I’m learning, apparently neither are you.







Because you like the music. There is so much behind the scenes here. So many characters brought together. So much below the surface. So much apparent and much that isn’t.

Unless you search and wonder. Or know :


mirror-man[1]Reflections as I work through my morning workout session.

How could I have? How did I? Why did I? Why do I? Why am I?

Something like this had never happened in a long, long time. This type of love? Its unique characteristics? Never. How on earth did it happen. It should never have. It could never have.

What did I fall for? The contradictions? The deep and the vacuous? The commitment to the difficult and yet always the path of the easy? The mysterious wrapped in the mundane? The passionate with the dismissive? The utterly impossible mated to the profoundly magical? ? Your twists and weaves compared to my directness? The winging, soaring highs bungied to the crashing times of despair?  Simultaneously fascinated and repelled by the all consuming narcissism?

Did I want to teach, yet be open to learn?

I was wary, yet became obsessed.

Perhaps, possibly, maybe. These words our certainty.

Why did I not feel anything at the end? Why am I so emotionless now? Why am I so uncaring? So completely detached.

Questions on a Friday.  Answers in a millennium.

More reflection required.

Ice Floes

The wind, gentle and cool for some time, now feels like it is picking up. In all directions.  It’s not ice cold yet, but I can feel it coming. The temperature is most certainly dropping.  The seasons have changed. As the wind intensifies, the crack that split our common ice floe slowly, steadily, yet inexorably drifts us further apart. The barely noticeable daily current of our lives pushes us further away, as well.  And the wind from the Nor’ Eastericeshelf_01[1] could be chilling you to the bone, I think.

The airport chats, the personal video, in the end rather than expressions of caring and thought, leave us unsatisfied because the point has been either forgotten, or simply lost.



186xpd4v3xz9tjpg[1]Last night’s dinner was quite simple. It was simply delicious, too.

I was taken a bit aback when Boudicca’s husband invited me to be seated between them. How could I possibly not smile broadly while accepting?

Not only the dinner was delicious. But the view, too. Of Boudicca’s low cut top. It was quite the trip my eyes traveled last evening.. From her sparkling blue eyes, south to luscious lips and engaging smile, ending with gently heaving bosom. Take a breath, Marty. Repeat. Again. And again. Let the visual feast never end. How the thought of devouring her from head to toe is so very mouthwatering. Add our animated conversation concerning her latest battles royale, light touching, and the whole evening was … yes … delicious.

And when said husband explained to me that he uses the rule for womanizing of “no younger than half my age plus seven” you can imagine the lift my eyebrow took. What did that mean? All sorts of possibilities entered my head. Down boy!

Now That Was A No No

butt-jeans-628x363[1]We have chatted for a while about the 4 lbs you’ve gained. It’s not an issue with me at all, of course. I love you any way you are. But you are so conscious of your weight and figure and beauty. Even more than other women.

But when I playfully said “I can see where those 4 lbs have gathered” I immediately said to self –

“Well Marty,  that is probably the dumbest thing you have done in a very long time.”

To my utter shock you just batted your long eyelashes, smiled and said “Oh, you can? I’m working on it”. No drama, no reverberations. A beautiful email to me later.

No wonder I love you.

A Small Tribute to Grace, Brains, and Beauty

1024px-0033_Louvre_Venus_de_Milo[1]This post today is about me. Aren’t they all? It’s about how I learned something important for me about women. But I urge you to visit my blogging friend Michelle’s blog for a very good post about NOT being so selfish. And by the way you ought to follow Michelle if you don’t already. She has good stuff, every day.

Now for the post. It’s about the morbid stalker. Early this morning I received an email telling me an old school chum of mine had died. Beth. Beth and I were not close, and I haven’t seen her in several years. But I always considered her very special, and as I sat with damp eyes and thought about her this morning, I began to piece together some of the reasons why.

I started going to school with Beth just as I turned 12, and we were classmates from then right up to the end of high school. Beth had it all, beauty, brains, and class. She was arguably the smartest kid in the class in a room full of brainiacs. Her face would light up any room, with her wicked smile, and flashing eyes. I don’t ever remember seeing her angry and she was always friendly and had a good word for everyone.She wasn’t particularly athletic, but she had an athlete’s figure. I remember well her legs, long and slim but with great shape and lightly muscled. Probably a very good shot at the title of “Best Legs on a Woman Marty Has Ever Seen.” And in the summer her skin would bronze to a golden hue that was a treasure in its own way. In later years I would learn that her home life wasn’t so rosy. Yet she never let on that anything could be amiss. She just never let that interfere with her interactions with the world at large.

I never dated Beth. I was too shy to ever ask her out. From the first time I met her, I was paralyzed in her company. She just had that effect on me. Always. Though our interests were very different, I remember we had good debates on intellectual subjects. But beyond these type of discussions, Beth was too much of a goddess for me to approach. Even in later years I stumbled in her presence. Though she was never anything but kind and graceful in all situations.

What I realized this morning is that at 12, Beth showed me what I would always pursue in a woman. Beth exhibited what I would always deem crucial. Smarts, looks, class, and kindness to all. Beth was it. She was the first female I would see in that full spectrum. There are few created like her.