[[[[theora.com/Audio/HereIGo.mp3|This]]]] is a story 'bout a girl that I knew
she didn't like my songs
and that made me feel blue
she said: "a big band is far better than you"...
She don't rock 'n' roll, she don't like it
she don't do the stroll, well she don't do it right
well, ev'rythings wrong and my patience was gone
when I woke one morning
and remembered this song
O-oh-oh, kinda catchy, I hoped
that she would talk to me now
and even allow me to hold her hand
and forget that old band.
I strolled around to her pad
her light was off and that's bad
her sister said that my girl was gone
"But come inside, boy, and play, play, play me a song!"
I said "Yeah! Here I go"
She's kinda cute; don't you know,
That after a while of seeing her smile
I knew we could make it, make it in style!?
So now I've got all I need
She and I are in love, we've agreed
she likes this song and my others too
so now you see my world is...
because of this tune!
What a boon this tune!
I tell you soon
We'll be lying in bed, happily wed,
and I won't think of that girl
or what she [[[[theora.com/Video/love.avi|said...]]]]
As soon as I land I rush over.
In the evenings Nitty takes me for walks outside.
Alone in the dark park, she tells me how these
relaxation breaks are mentally important for her,
and the support is vital for her resolve in cancer nursing.
I am being raped in futility in dark parks,
star enlightened sand beaches and parked cars,
never reaching a real do of course,
given my fragile state.
I am mostly frozen in shock,
which leaves me lazy with pleasure
on my back throughout.
In passing he asks me to take the best care I can
of a dear loved one for him,
as she is about to reach The States in a few weeks.
At Hogwarts, the phone system works slightly differently,
much like the mail.
Nitty was not really a heavy duty fairy witch,
just a well connected hobbyist,
but it was worth a try. So I called her.
She took her time. Like I said, she was a hobbyist.
The dumps were getting dumpier by the minute.
I commenced begging over the sky phone.
Sky phones are nice, as you do not need to know
numbers and locations, which I didn't at the time.
Not a week later,
she calls me up from the other end of the planet.
Its a real flesh and blood phone this time, made of plastic.
You need me, I can tell, she says.
Or else, I said.
It didn't take much more.
We agreed to meet midway, in Israel.
Over there still, we interviewed each other on the do issue,
not verbally, though in part.
From there we came back to The States to live together
for two more years.
Nitty was not my first choice for a saviour at that time. Barbie was.
I tried the same. Barbie was in Israel at the time,
and forced me to take her to Puerto Rico if I care to be saved.
Over there, she was putting my heart out like a cigarette, again,
thereby guaranteeing she had no chance
chasing Nitty off this time around.
The doos these two years were awesome,
and the best was yet to come.
Life would have looked great, if I had any.
At the climax of all this,
Nitty called me with the evil lightning news.
Within a few phone calls, I am late for a plane to catch,
The automatic secretary and the virgin are pushed aside,
or so I presumed.
K. is accompanying me to the airport.
Though we are officially separated,
just friends now, it has already been almost a week
since the last do, and we kiss and hug at the parking
lot before I fly off to what I had hoped to be a web-less hell.
At least web-less?
[[[[[images/redWood.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/architect.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/JFK.jpg]]]]]
Barbie and I got back together as she promised.
Nitty away though, Barbie lost her drive.
Like Smeagol, the word will only last so long.
So long was about two months.
Then Barbie said so long.
I was in the dumps.
Really in the dumps.
The onset of the dumps took some time to graduate.
It didn't hurt that I was on the verge of my imminent financial ruin.
Well, it did, rather, quite a bit.
Barbie left my heart in near fatal condition.
Nitty meanwhile, back in Israel, age 30 and a few minutes,
had her hormones suddenly jump to attention,
and she took her then husband to a mutual shrink,
and had all three of them sign the papers for Nitty's next attack.
It took Nitty six months more to slowly and
gently break the news to me.
Never quite saying anything definite,
except that she is coming to stay
for a month of relaxation at my place in The States.
I called up her husband and verified with him that
he too signed off the papers,
as Nitty will only tell me of the
shrink trio after success was safe in pocket.
Are you sure you know what you are doing?
Are you aware of the history?
He was very terse:
I have full confidence in her.
She will do as she pleases.
I am well aware of the facts.
[[[[[images/manhattan.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/Barbie.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/brokenheart2.jpg]]]]]
[[[[[images/israeliFlag.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/wired.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/natbag.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/JFK.jpg]]]]]
By the time I was twenty eight he was busy dying.
Like evil lightning,
Nitty called me up one day and told me he decided to start dying.
I had no clew for whom, and how this was to affect
the doos and don't of my life to this day.
During the previous few months to my discovery of this
the web was getting very messy,
totally independently thus far.
And during these very same few months,
we had been talking hours over the phone,
fantasizing how he will come to stay at my place
and paint New York.
The great one, the web creator, had died of
stomach cancer somewhat later.
My encounters with witchcraft also occurred somewhat later.
Even if I were to be a great witchcraft wizard,
I would not have had a chance to a clue,
as to the dangerous web I am already so well entangled in.
Definitely the highest school of life.
I have already refused two verbal do offers
before the very first Great Gig in the Sky.
It was worth it.
It was ancient times, and there were only two great doers there.
The first, my second verbal offer, was the only one in
class to have the bazookas greater than my first
verbal offer, who spent long and many years
doing the offering in futility, while I was on my back.
She was a true angel and still is.
The other, Duffy, I was introduced to by the Jazz Guitar player
many years later.
Turns out that during their college days, K. and Duffy
used to be do rivals, big time, trying to outdo each others
through the bodies of the professors.
At least she never wanted to do me,
though I do remember that I promised the Jazz Guitar player
that I would teach her and her husband how to ski,
much like I did with the Jazz Guitar player and many others,
and the association sparks were gleaming from the snow
that weekend in Vermont.
During those six months, Barbie, a friend now,
was getting quite agitated with the whole thing, and
I started spending some time on my back again.
As usual, nobody cared for my say in any of these matters.
But as the self-import day grew closer and better defined,
I forced my conscience to overcome my hormones for the
two weeks prior to arrival day.
I drove Nitty to the airport,
and landed back at Barbie's place rather
than going home that evening.
Naturally, we did it again, and again for several days.
Meanwhile Nitty, back in Israel is a very honest person,
and broke off the news to her husband regarding
the events in The States, as if it was any news.
She probably pissed him off mostly with the
statistical reports she was preparing,
as I have no clue why the whole sequence of events
took such an unconscious and destructive path.
First, within the several days Barbie was still doing me,
it was agreed between them they will never do each other again.
He got a court order to imprison her in the country
for as long as the divorce is not finalized.
Nitty meanwhile was looking for support overseas,
begging me to promise her future doos over the phone
so she can survive the hardships of divorce.
So I did, and broke it off with Barbie again.
Within a month all the papers were signed,
including Nitty's airline re-import ticket.
[[[[[images/israeliFlag.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/brokenheart1.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/jail.jpg]]]]]
I married Nekko, my owner cat,
because the Russian woman
brought her home from the street as we were
moving in to live together, having just decided
to get married.
She was very quick and had a very convincing head start.
Her previous boyfriend didn't like the food she ate.
I have no clue what planet she picked him up at.
Its OK, don't worry about me, go ahead, make my day.
She was very frustrated.
Having received my surrendering approval,
she took it out on me.
Or from, rather.
She had me on my back in lightning speed
which felt like meteor showers,
and later dumped me at the altar.
[[[[[images/lightning.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/meteor.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/altar.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/Nekko1.jpg]]]]]
I met [[[life/msdbSearchText/title/seven layer|him]]] in the army.
The most I remember of him is one piss we took together in the wild.
He was eating a sandwich.
At half size he let it fall off his hand right through the stream.
He was heavy duty into Punk Music and Zappa logic at the time.
How can one not fall for such purity. I was helpless.
I later went to TAU to study math on the Hill of Anemones.
During those times we had a comeback.
I didn't do much of the guitar myself.
I just cut and glued the wood, he did all the painting.
We later took possession turns, about a year or two a turn.
So I came to his place that day to continue with the guitar thing,
not quite aware that Nitty had just turned eighteen.
[[[[[images/Cream.jpg]]]]] [[[[[misc/Noam/CubicHousing1.jpg]]]]] [[[[[misc/Noam/TelAviv8.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/redWood.jpg]]]]]
I was driving a cat to the airport that night.
The three of us had coffee,
and she told me a previous boyfriend did it with sheep.
She did me the next night.
I said, OK, but loveless.
She said, I don't mind. I just wanna do your nails
and everything else.
My hormones said OK and it lasted yet another week.
I was strong and could hold my hormones for
two whole meetings before she managed to do me.
On the third night she did me.
On the forth night, at two AM her body asked
my hormones if they happen to be awake.
She probably thought she was testing my resolve.
I giggled in my sleep and did her.
On the fifth night she thought my resolve could use better testing.
Anywho, slowly but surely,
she upped doing me by one a night,
until we got to six.
She used to drive me home in the mornings,
where I would go to sleep
while she went to work.
After a month of such self torture
she was totally insane for close to zero sleep
and we broke it off.
Nitty was in the background,
ambushing the next round,
and took advantage of the sleep split-ups
Betty used to take occasionally.
Due to a miscalculation of timing on her part,
I was forced to break it off one day,
as Betty was quite time consuming.
Me and Nitty never did it since.
I was finally ready for Marriage.
In answer to a question I was asked by
a guy I fell for at a party:
So, you want my air juice.
You have no clue what size trap you just fell into, and
I apologize for having set it with zero consciousness.
Its called love, I think, but how could I possibly
see this one coming, albeit the long hair.
[[[[[images/air.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/juice.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/airJuice.jpg]]]]]
In contradiction to the existence of these pages,
I was never the type to run tell the friends.
There were times I thought it immoral,
other times vainly arrogant,
but by now I don't even call this type of bragging frustrating,
just useless for the Ego, so why bother.
Its just a waste of valuable Tantra joy time.
The greatest joy, in this respect,
is to have a life long repeating
story of the next wife coming home one day,
telling you with pride how she told off all her girl friends.
The shear numbers are so insanely unreal,
that I don't even need to hear any details to
have my ego being shot to the sky.
I already know the story from the previous copies,
and competition is simply non-existent.
It took another week until Barbie
moved to my place for
the next two and a half years.
Much later she will tell me she had counted
[[[[theora.com/Video/love.avi|two and a half times a day]]]] on average throughout.
Totaling over 2000 in all,
I'd call it a medium size relationship.
It took three days for Nitty to come back on her knees.
I lifted her up as much as I could,
doing her as much as possible,
which was surely quite much.
I wasn't keeping count.
I think I was really doing her for a while and for a change.
It was somewhat refreshing.
It didn't last long.
Needless to say,
Barbie was phone leaning on my hormones again,
promising heaven again.
This time she had good grounds for sure.
My hormones were juggling all three of us like
ping pong balls in heat.
It was nerve wrecking, and all three of us were
a nervous wreck, but not in the same ship wreck at all.
It took Barbie a total of a month and a half again,
to chase Nitty off all the way to the other end of the planet,
a sharp hundred and eighty degrees, as remote as possible.
Nitty went to Thailand, Laos and the vicinity.
K. was working for the father of the cousin, the happy daughter.
So he did her, like he did everybody else.
or at least that is what she told me while she was doing me,
when she said she refused him.
I can't believe she had thought I would fall for this one.
The great one is never said no to, never.
So he did everything that moved,
and everything that moved faster than the rest did me.
I made very few choices in life, if any.
At first, my in law told me K. wants to do me,
and that I should beware.
so I almost immediately asked K.
what exactly is stopping her,
as if I didn't know nothing was.
I went to her husband, the Jazz Guitar player,
to ask for her hand.
At the time he was a very good friend,
with whom I was planning future doos.
It was in the not-before-not-after single evening.
He was so right being condescending,
that I felt like a very small boy,
and we both pitied him together for his frustration.
That night she did me.
Strangely, K. did Archy before the Jazz Guitar player.
Archy was doing the happy daughter for several years
before she was happy.
K. picked up the Jazz Guitar player just for the Guitar,
and she and Archy were actually in love when K.
and the Jazz Guitar Player got married.
Cousin and her father, Archy and K.
all entangled in a web of generations, doos, and
people turning happy in an early midlife crisis.
This is not my web at all.
It was woven long before I had the age
to get caught in the strands.
Like I said, I did not have a life by then,
except for Nitty and the doos, that is.
In attempting to change that,
I decided to move with Nitty to Israel.
I was always the guiding force
when hormones were not involved.
Die Hard SDR fans like Nitty and myself always have
a dark habit beyond their control,
always more powerful than the chemicals.
Lucky for me, mine is just hormones, like most men.
Nitty has a habit of being chased to other ends of planets
by wanna-do-me's, especially if they also happen to be
younger sisters of someone from the close vicinity.
After all, she is one. Pride can carry a long way.
Being a prophetic fairy witch, its not even hard.
She was preparing for the encounter with the first lawyer,
whilst in The States, as we were packing our things to plan
our life together in Israel.
Every box had a name.
Not what was in it, just who it belongs to.
Not a single box had shared property.
You don't need a lawyer at all if you are that capable as a prophet.
Might take you places other brain juices can't.
It is air, as far as you are concerned,
and that which is breathed, as far as I.
After forty five Years, I did sixteen.
On average about fifteen hundred per.
When I tell-tale some of this to the next
do-me-wanna-be, I almost immediately
get asked for a proof.
Shortly after, jealousy takes over and
I have to prove my loyalty-by-comparison.
So the advice givers we listened to when we were
young were wrong:
By all means do tell, if it carries any weight.
So you say you can do three a day without chemicals.
How long can you last like this?
About until the weekend, when there is more time.
From Your Bed I Gained a Day and Lost a Bloody [[[[theora.com/Audio/Summer68.mp3|Year]]]]...
Nitty came over for a month and stayed
for a month and a half,
the most her airline ticket could offer.
All the while Barbie was pressing me to chase her off,
promising shear heaven.
Over the phone, except for a single meet on her birthday.
You owe me at least that much, she said.
So we met and she offered me the back thing again.
I refused this time, and felt very mature for just a few weeks.
Nitty loved the counting,
and counted three times daily on weekdays,
and ten times a weekend, totaling twenty five a week.
Six weeks makes a hundred and fifty.
She loved comparing too.
With her husband it was once a week during good times,
and once in two in bad times.
That makes a hundred and fifty in about two years.
Nitty came over, this time around, to stay.
Barbie was wild with fury and was trying to chase her off,
by leaning on my hormones over the phone, heavyweight.
Nitty didn't judge Barbie's leverage quite right,
and I didn't my lack thereof.
Future in pocket, Nitty became bossy.
We started having heavy duty fights.
I was being attacked from both ends,
and tried my best to stay strong and calm.
Then Nitty met this guy in New York.
He was an ass hole, but Nitty pretended to be in love with him,
apparently just to save face with me and the fights.
I was loyal, but my hormones were waiting
patiently like a cat in the wild.
In a few days Nitty said she is moving in with him.
Early morning Saturday,
so we don't miss out on too much valuable last minute do time,
before we left for New York,
Nitty and I had a farewell do party, mostly in invisible tears.
It was hot. Not the weather.
I wasn't keeping count.
Early afternoon I helped her with the things,
drove her to New York and helped her bring the things up.
I had just gotten my first cell phone ever,
and Barbie was just a few blocks away.
It seemed silly to drive all the way back through the tunnel to my
place on the other side of the river,
just so that my hormones don't spend too much money on the call.
Make the call, they said, the toll and the gas are more expensive.
So I went over.
Barbie was during her period, and of habit,
she was officially untouchable.
She had me lay on my back
so quickly I didn't see it coming.
Some five minutes later she raised her
head just enough to speak:
I know now why you like doing her so, she said,
her nectar is sweet to the taste.
A few more minutes pass by, and she burst out in joking fury:
I can't anymore, so much aware that she did and I can't.
She pulled the string out, and started doing me.
I was still on my back, my hormones pretending I was not
the one doing even the driving-over part.
Nitty was fourteen when she first wanted to do me.
It was during army days.
I was nineteen and change, shortly before my first do,
still instinctless, I had no clue what had been going on.
She was his protected younger sister, and the three of us
had great times touring the country together.
While I was asleep one day in a bus,
she dared caressing my hair.
The most uninnocent innocence.
My brain would have been fried even better,
had I not been asleep at the time.
Sixteen years later she told me, after she did me.
Not like she was resting for those sixteen years.
She was practicing the whole time, in body,
thought, and some other bodies,
taking trial shots whenever opportunity knocked.
Not to rush or anything,
right after coming back from Boston
to a straight dive into the automatic secretary.
Just for the parallelism, I also met with the virgin.
She was twenty seven or so at the time.
I had known her for seven years by then.
Being that I owed her from the party she had thrown
just for this, we started non-doing the naked thing.
I was training her for her first do,
and only did her four years later,
after she was safely open.
I'll get back to that then.
On the airplane, my thoughts are not given a moments rest.
At least my hormones do.
Turns out the head Objectivist from the army days
is on his way over for The States.
I haven't seen him in many years,
and we exchange time holes filler info.
So what were you doing in Israel?
I came to visit a dying army friend.
And do you know why he wants to die?
It was quite a shock, especially from a former Objectivist.
It's simple. he says with a calm smile,
there are no viruses nor germs.
Where do you think it comes from, God?
Back in The States, fearing the imminent new import,
I quickly go and visit the virgin and we start non-doing again.
[[[[[images/natbag.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/AynRand.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/Death.jpg]]]]]
[[[[[images/JFK.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/AynRand.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/life2.gif]]]]]
One day I was called up by my wife to hop over to
Boston for the weekend.
At a place of a mutual friend,
I fell in love with a neighbor,
just for an afternoon.
We did the non-doing thing,
in a rare I-wasn't-the-one-stepping-on-the-breaks event.
She was American. The only American.
I should have known by then my place is in Israel.
I wasn't really ready to listen to my hormones at the time.
Two days later, on the phone from New York,
She Shot Me Down.
The bank account seems to be overflowing
with bodies anyway.
Just to be safe, I called up the automatic secretary
for a single night of several doos.
[[[[[images/Boston.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/usa.gif]]]]] [[[[[images/israeliFlag.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/KillBill.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/answeringMachine.jpg]]]]]
Picture and I get older by some two years,
doing, and doing, and doing,
until I ran out of resolve.
Then we break up to live in separate homes,
and still do it occasionally like most do, for a while.
Later we stay just friends for some time.
She had just been imported for me from Israel.
Without an invitation, just a chance meet.
Or meat, rather.
She was desperate.
I had known the Virginal Objectivist for seven years by then.
Not at all in the biblical sense just yet.
She was a close friend, and a friend of the new import.
The Objectivist threw a birthday party for me.
It felt mostly like one of those rare girl parties where
A Few Good Men are invited over.
In fact I don't remember any other man there.
Logic demands that if that were really the case
I would have remembered that.
And further, its my hormones that decide what
I get to remember and what not.
I know me at least that well.
But The Objectivist was slow,
and my invited advances on her during the party
translated into the three of us just going to sleep there,
dressed, after all the other bodies have left.
My hormones were too fast for this.
When I woke up, only the automatic secretary was there,
The Objectivist had gone to work,
leaving the two of us alone in her apartment.
I woke her up very slowly, gently,
almost hypnotizing her to continue sleeping.
But only slow enough for her to discover that
by the time she was fully awake,
she no longer had a clue where her clothes were left off.
But we didn't do it just yet.
My hormone driven logical brain told me even here
I had better wait for the rubbers to come off her brain.
It took not twenty four hours.
So we did, and did, and did, and did.
And I bought her an answering machine.
So me and the Jazz Guitar player were scouting for doos together.
K., still his wife, was scouting New York.
The Jazz Guitar player was Cupidly scouting the newspapers
for a flutist he later married,
while I was taking the lazy desperate route.
I wasn't that desperate, or at least that is what I was told
by my hormones.
Just targeting desperate do buddies.
Or bodies rather.
[[[[[images/cortX1.gif]]]]] [[[[[images/JethroTull.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/flute.jpg]]]]]
That night with the Guitar still white with the base coat
at his place, I called Nitty up to wish her happy birthday.
We hadn't spoken since she was fifteen.
So hop over.
I lowered the phone just a bit, and asked him if he
would like to hop over to his sister's.
I don't think I was conscious of my wanting to know
her response to my query.
Obviously, I had no intention for him to come with.
Its just that my intentions were not clear to me.
Hey, she said, I am just passed eighteen and don't
need the guardian.
I was too young and too stupid to resist.
In her room, she turned on the red light
bulb she had colored
herself, and turned off all the other lights.
She went to the stereo and put on Light My Fire.
At least I think it was.
Could have been Riders in the Storm or L.A. woman
for that matter.
The Doors were not open enough in my
mind at the time to notice the difference.
Neither were my hormones.
As if that was not enough,
she started dancing to the faint red light in the dark.
I was sitting there on the couch, watching the show,
when she pulled the topological bra trick on me.
So on the Matcho side, I was having condescending
thoughts of how cool she probably thinks it is
to show me this old brown shoe trick,
which couldn't have possibly impressed me,
being a math student, and a fan
of topology since I was eight or so.
Luckily or not, my stupid Matcho ego was
helpless against the upper hand.
On the other side, all my hormones could be aware of,
is the fact that she is now bra-less,
and how close she is to the touch,
and how Matcho ego building this experience is,
given I had done, at least to my knowledge,
less then nothing to get there.
So I asked her to just sit down by my side
and relax so that we can talk.
And I did. I started doing the talk thing,
and her brain was frying.
In five minutes she totally collapsed and said:
Talk is tensing, will you just do something already.
[[[[[images/door.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/TheDoors.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/GuitarOnFire.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/doorKnock.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/greenDoor.jpg]]]]]
The boxes arrived from The States some three weeks
after we came to Israel to live together.
Nitty was long since gone,
safely away in Thailand or something.
The boxes did not have to be opened,
and were neatly organized at the space
by the entrance to our - my now - apartment.
In a short while the random guests were beginning
to query why boxes are still unopened:
And that is?
Oh, that is just The Dead Man in Yossarian's tent.
Nitty arrived back in Israel some six months
later for some more doos.
She had done Vipassana and was very hungry.
This time around it was very clean, at least on my end.
She used to come over on Wednesdays,
doing me till Tuesday non-stop,
then taking a week and change break
until the next round of doos.
Kruder and Dorfmeister were closely
monitoring the Sessions several times a day,
to make sure we don't stop the Sessions before they do.
After some six months,
by the time the K&D Sessions finished torturing us,
I was ready to teach Tantra to the Governor of Goa.
(I have never to date visited with the Indians.)
[[[[[images/Death.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/Yossarian.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/tent.gif]]]]] [[[[[images/Catch22.jpg]]]]]
[[[[[images/vipassana.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/natbag.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/KDsessions.jpg]]]]]
The first lawyer came from Israel to The States
to scout me for doos several months earlier.
A younger sister of the wife of a very close friend,
we have been conversing doos for some fifteen or so
years by then.
Nitty was busy not knowing the lawyer exists,
and was trying to pull some heavy duty fights,
just to make sure she ends up on some
other end of the planet anyway.
The lawyer was confident with the upcoming victory.
We had our usual friendship style meetings,
like we used to whenever we chanced to meet
in the past fifteen years.
But the night meetings at her place,
with Europeanly polite talks in her living room
grew longer, while Nitty was scouting for airline
tickets, without telling me.
I didn't want to tell Nitty about the lawyer because
nothing was going on and I didn't want to
piss her off for nothing.
My hormones had other plans,
and while coupled with Nitty,
they probably knew she is scouting for airplanes,
and started scouting for lawyers. Whatever works.
Totally unaware of the fact that
Nitty is already in possession of an airline ticket,
at two past midnight the lawyer says I look very tired.
Being the hostess, she forces me to her bed to sleep.
She is well protected by her legal paperwork.
we just sleep, right? friends.
Her stomach is gentle to the touch when she puts my hand on top of it.
So my hormones raise the hand towards the hill.
Lawyers need to stay protected,
so she brought over the papers
and started talking:
Let it be known, for the record, to all that will later ask,
that you have just made a pass at me,
as thus far it was just friendship [semi-naked in bed],
whereas you are the one who made the first do-move.
I signed the paper, but quickly showed it to her
older sister's husband the next morning.
I have to be safe too.
We spent six months together,
while Nitty was safely away in some
eastern end of the planet, and a month after we broke up
Nitty came for the next round.
The K. thing was happening during the same time.
While K. was busy scouting doos in New York,
laying out the stories as she was doing me,
I was also non-doing the Objectivist,
and was laying out the stories to K.
One day K. begged me to just do the child,
of pity, and be done with it.
It didn't happen anywhere near that timeframe.
I was not about to obey, except to my own hormones.
And those were already quite opinionated.
[[[[[images/architect.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/manhattan.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/AynRand.jpg]]]]]
The much younger sister imports herself
from overseas to visit the elder picture for six months.
She has a weakness for those whose bodies are
owned or used to be owned by the elder picture,
and the attack is imminent.
She is a Barbie with soft skin and not twenty years of age.
Just past thirty myself, my hormones are counting
the stars on the fighter plane,
and again, I am powerless.
It is four years since the virgin.
The picture obviously starts attacking again.
My hormones have to protect themselves
from the dual insanity,
and they walk over to the non-virgin's place to
take a sanity break.
As usual, I follow without being asked if I care to.
As if that was not enough,
as all three are doing me regularly for a short week or two,
me and the non-virgin have a slight accident.
In the middle of the night I rush on the Rollerblades
to the pharmacy to get some foam.
Like a spy, making sure the picture sisters who live close by
don't happen to notice me.
I think the excitement, mutual fears,
and the foam massage made us fall in love.
For the first and only time, and for so very briefly.
As if we were under enemy aircraft fire as we were doing it
after the pharmacy visit.
But the fire was in me, and its expression was in her.
And as if that was not enough,
the head Objectivist from the past
came for a conference on the west coast,
and could use a place to stay on the east coast.
I invite him over to stay.
Barbie is staying with elder picture still,
so my place can officially hold him.
We get to visit the elder picture for no reason
that my hormones told me about.
His hormones are loose with the picture,
the picture is pissed at both myself and Barbie baby sister,
and the sister swap is near completion.
Not that anyone asked me, as usual.
They pretend to fall in love real quick.
The picture Can't Hold Out Too Long.
They fight it out and the picture ends up in my place,
sleeping totally alone.
Me and Barbie take a night tour over the Brooklyn Bridge
and sign up some details,
while elder picture is waiting for me sleeping in my bed,
leaving hers to the Objectivist to sleep alone in as well.
All the while none of this information is hidden from either party,
except that the non-virgin doesn't know about Barbie yet,
as if it mattered in this mess.
Until sun-peak elder waits sleeping in my bed,
when I arrive back home from my
New York tour with Barbie sister.
She wakes up in domineering frustration as I arrive.
My hormones just want to do her
and I try obeying their orders.
They give up over a strange fight:
She wants to do me, I want to do her, we fight and have neither.
[[[[[images/Aristoteles.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/monalisa.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/AynRand.jpg]]]]]
The new import is a picture to die for.
It is my first and gentlest encounter with shear insanity.
She is also smart enough to hide it real well.
I have no tools to resist the upcoming attack.
It is my territory, but my body is that of hers.
All the while K. is suddenly jealous again,
for her dazzling beauty and age makes her
a fierce competition rival
over the already conquered territory,
in a pre-declared cease fire.
The virgin is still a virgin, and does have good grounds,
but doesn't stand a chance.
Nitty is meanwhile calling as if giving death progress reports,
but in fact is inviting herself over.
Not only I know I will not survive such a visit,
the Stringless Guitar is watching me with cautious patience.
I'd give an arm to know her thoughts.
[[[[[images/monalisa.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/architect.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/AynRand.jpg]]]]]
[[[[[images/Death.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/natbag.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/JFK.jpg]]]]]
The second lawyer was the first of the Internet round.
She did me at first meet.
She was dead. It only took ten minutes once.
Coming out, I rolled over speechless,
imitating the Last Tango in Paris.
So it was that bad?
I will leave soon.
From Your Bed I Gained a Day and Lost a Bloody [[[[theora.com/Audio/Summer68.mp3|Year]]]]...
[[[[[images/Death.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/exhausted.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/AtomHeartMother.jpg]]]]]
We spend the whole night together naked, but never did it.
It was so cool we repeated this Tantric Sexuality exercise
twice more during that period,
with nights graduating into long weekends,
and still, we never did it.
Who would have thought those would be my very first steps
in selfless Tantra training,
with the horrifying effects of the
non-awareness and zero experience combo,
causing so much pain.
So I got scared, and refused the forth meet.
I had already been doing like clockwork,
the only person untouched by the web,
during the previous few years.
The one that was worth the wait.
But not too often anymore during those days.
For several weeks after the third meet,
we had conversed over the phone.
Do me, do me, do me.
No, no, no.
I didn't give up, and then one day she called me up:
I did, she said, so its ok.
I was nearly in tears,
but the age wouldn't let them come out,
and I let it go.
I was just twenty three.
We were in fact officially married.
I was still busy chasing my green card,
and she will have lost hers if we were to officially tear the papers,
so we didn't, and we were just friends during those days,
for several years as such, after our separation.
Several months back, she called me up to hop over to
Boston to visit her.
Her best friend, and historically a mutual friend,
was coming over from Germany.
The first do-me-wanna-be import, in a long list to follow.
Needless to say, my hormones came over,
and took my body with them.
My wife was busy doing crystals and/with her one year long
boyfriend, a carpenter,
whom she had grabbed on the way out of prison
before he managed to get home.
I am mostly my usual passive aggressive when I reach the place.
The carpenter's brother is also there, and my import
is about to do him, quite clearly.
Not sure what my frustrated hormones did exactly, but it worked.
As the lights dimmed the brother somehow disappeared.
All in European, politeness, without a word said,
my wife and the carpenter go to do in one room,
while me and the import go to sleep in the other.
She states clearly, no doos, and steps naked into the bed.
She is free and open and I am shy and dressed.
She has a vast experience of 400 at age 28,
as she would estimate during the night,
and after she had done me for about an hour,
she knows I couldn't possibly do anything but sleep.
So, I had to do Her for a change,
until the sun started peaking, watching my morals.
My hormones were a bit hungry and
angry with my morality.
It had been eight months sharp,
and even Woody Allen was beginning
to be quite furious with my morality.
When the sun started peaking through the window,
I decide to let her sleep a bit,
by trying to pretend to do the same.
Ani od er, hoshev al ma haya,
al ma achshav, u ma yi hi yeh.
not a wink, just shut eyes for an hour or so,
and the Boston Saturday begins with a
The carpenter takes me for a sun and terrace
talk on a plain cigarette before breakfast:
This is immoral, he says.
I am doing your wife in one room,
while you are doing her best friend in the other.
I was awake all night,
My conscience didn't let me sleep like this.
So did my hormones, was the fearfully silent No Reply.
[[[[[images/cocaine.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/carpenter.gif]]]]] [[[[[images/jail.jpg]]]]]
[[[[[images/sunrise.jpg]]]]] [[[[[images/WoodyAllen.gif]]]]] [[[[[images/ArikAinstein.jpg]]]]]