There are a few more posts I want to write, loose ends that need tying. Afterwards all writing on this blog will be suspended. That isn’t to say of course that I won’t be blogging or vlogging or podcasting. I have many ideas and things to do and write about and will do so but for now I want to tie up some loose ends. Tell me what loose end/post/or idea would you like to see tied up or completed?
After years of therapy, I can share without the horrid flashbacks, my experiences at a post-Vatican II catholic elementary school run by nuns. Years would pass before realizing how deep this torment buried itself into the depths of my psyche.
In my school faculty members unmarried to Christ fell into one of two categories. On the one hand, you had the group comprised of widows or unmarried women who not only cast no shadow in the mirror of focused self-reflection but left no visible marks of their passage through classrooms and hallways. In the 8th grade, I theorized that similar to a star destined to become a black hole, the sexuality and vitality of these women collapsed upon itself and created a misery so dense that it couldn’t stop draining the life force of any living being around. When I came of age, I was nonplussed by the plague of extemporaneous erections which weighed down quite heavily on the spirit of my then compatriots. One of these teachers would pass by and this dull ache in the depths of my abdomen would commence. Finally, my erection would skulk away in a way comparable to how my penis retreats to safety the moment the woman who I am on a date with tells me she is a vegan, or follows the friendship first approach to dating. Suffice it to say, I never had to think about baseball, although the parallels to a dry leather cracked mitt and well-cleaned vaginas atrophied from lack of use, are astounding. Those two images are a classic pairing reminiscent of Boucheron cheese and a Sauvignon Blanc or Chardonnay.