Winter scene outside work. I posted it because it's lovely.

NaBloPoMo - or - Scared Wordless

I've just signed on to National (really, it's beyond merely the States) Blog Posting Month or, NaBloPoMo. It's a challenge to push bloggers to write an entry every single day for a month. Those who meet the challenge successfully are entered in a draw for small prizes, as an added incentive. Why did I sign up for this? I think because I read "Do something that scares you every day." on someone's Lululemon bag yesterday and I decided to take it literally.

What, in the day-to-day, would scare the willies out of me? The obvious things are bungee jumping, ski jumping, luge, surfing, tornado chasing, etc. Not exactly the "day-to-day" I had in mind. But what of the smaller, subtler things? Like: talking to a gorgeous stranger or a famous person. Dancing alone in a public square. Eating oxtongue. Or blogging every bloody day for a month. Or commenting on a new blog every day for a month. Or actually sending out my performing resume. And preparing for auditions that may or may not come. Or starting a new one-person show. YIKES!

I suppose if it doesn't kill me, it may just make me stronger. The blogging starts in earnest on April 1. No foolin'.

"I dig you" takes on a whole new meaning...

From the CL vaults:

Seeking woman willing to dig a hole in the woods on short notice,

I will supply:
-two (2) shovels
-a grim disposition
-extreme sarcasm
-many jokes made in poor taste

You should:
-have a strong back
-willing to work at a moments notice
-a morbid sense of humour
-be between the ages of 20-30
-not the type to ask a lot of questions
-can keep a secret

What's greater than the trust two people can share under the stars. Just the two of us, some shovels, rope, gasoline, and bleach.

If your interested, drop me a line!

Mmmmmm. I'll bring the piano wire...

From the CL vaults

More from my CL archive:

tuesday - w4m

my heart calls you before
my eyes

(saw you) before

my ears

(heard you) before

your hand...

(touched me on the leg)

Or this:

Downtown subway line (I forget which), 5:00 PM, - m4w

Every time I've ridden the subway for the last few years, I've nonchalantly scanned the crowds, wondering if I'll ever see an attractive white, thin, medium-tall girl wearing a black coat, carrying a purse, reading a book, with straight, jet black hair draped over her sharp features, down just past her shoulders.

And I did...

Now the game won't be as fun anymore.

Or this gem:

NO WEERD GIRLZ OR FREEKS PLZ. - 40's

please. normal woman only between 30 to 43 years of age. very sensual a plus.
NO crafters, graphic designers (the worst!), poets, playwrights or shamans pls.
wiccans OK if hwp.
no visible tan lines.

me: up to date eyewear. look good in silk pajamas. sensualist. no visible tan lines.

serious only. with pic or drawing (no artists!).

Huhhhhh...???

There was a picture included, but I think it's of him,so I won't post it. Shame. It's really good. In a baaaaaad way...

From the CL Archives: The Wednesday Guy

There is a fellow who recently started posting and has mastered the art of appealing to the intelligent, romantic, lonely, straight female willing to be seduced by a well-crafted turn of phrase. If I were not attached and older than he (a liability to many men, apparently), I would have emailed him by now. Maybe he hasn't received the reply that will win his heart, maybe he's still looking, but I'm so glad the WG continues to post. I will miss his posts when he finds his heart's desire and has no further need to express himself on CL.

Ladies and gentlemen, without further ado, I give you excerpts from the Wednesday Guy (Sigh!!):

"...I'll tell you two (secrets), shall I?

"The first is that I can be moved. I don't mean physically, because lots of things can jostle me about. I mean emotionally moved: touched, deeply affected, whatever term you prefer. I can be stopped in my tracks by the beauty of a perfectly phrased lyric or the symmetry of hedgerows. Or the elegance of highly optimized computer code, for that matter. I would by no means be described as "flaky" by anyone who knows me: I'm a logical reasoner, a skeptical thinker and a lover of the scientific method. But nonetheless the point--the secret--is that I'm one of those lads for whom beauty of all forms can (and frequently does) sound a resonant chime deep inside me.

"I suppose that makes me sound a bit like a foppish dandy, but so be it. I'll simply write in a future letter about my motorcycle trips if my fragile male ego is bruised after I submit this.

"The second secret is that my living room is painted the precise color of hockey arena vending machine hot chocolate. Yes, really. One of my favorite smells growing up was hot chocolate after playing hockey, and so when I found a paint shop on !@£$%^& that claimed to be able to match the color of any object... well, you can imagine the rest. The fun part is, nobody suspects a thing: it just looks like a warm earthy brown to house guests. But you and I know differently.

"There are so many other things I had meant to mention, so many tales to tell and traits to trot out, but this post is already so long I think I'll save them for future letters.

"I trust this has been a sufficient introduction to both my character and my intent. I will continue to send my words, secret and otherwise, winging their electronic way to you each Wednesday.

"Until next week, I remain
Your ardent, if unmet, suitor."

And another excerpt:

"...I am in a great mood, even on this (grey) midweek afternoon. This morning the radio sang me a song I hadn't heard in years. The melody carried with it a rush of happy memories from a trip I took a few years back to visit the four corners of North America via motorcycle.

"(That trip makes me seem FAR more cool than I actually am, but I'm not above dropping mention of things like that to try to pique your interest; hey, if Macy's wants to sell something they put it in the window, right?)

"I love music: rock, blues, pop, shoegazer, classical, funk, big band, punk ... you name it. From "music to bang your head to" to "music that makes you feel like you should push the button for your floor." I like lots of obscure bands, but I still like them after they become popular. And I continue to like bands long after they're no longer popular. I especially enjoy witty lyrics and songs that tell stories. I check aurgasm.us every day and I'm on my 5th iPod.

"But even so, that same iPod still betrays my utter lack of cool:

"There I am with my headphones on, looking for all the world like I'm digging the latest club remix, and it probably appears as if ... well, as if I'm not the sort of guy who uses unhip words like "digging." Or unhip words like "unhip," for that matter.

"But the truth is, inside my cold-day cocoon of headphones and wool cap it's as likely as not that I'm listening to some audiobook, a BBC radio comedy show, a podcast or maybe a lecture series. I'm definitely "student for life" material."

Sigh. Articulate, full of curiosity, a music lover. And he knows how to spell and use 'pique'! Maidens with brains in their heads are probably swooning by the dozens. If not, they're idiots.

From the Archives: The Post that Started it All

This hilarious CL post (excerpted) started me collecting (is that proper grammer? Oh dear...): For more details about my collection, see the post entitled Collections.

"I am Perfect! - 40's

"I must post this to at least spare one lucky woman the necessity of placing her own posting in craigslist. For her I am eliminating the process of having to specify which faults she cannot tolerate and the pain of wondering which ones of her own may be deal-breakers, telling prospective suitors not to bother applying if they are this, that or the other, telling them to check baggage, to be educated, able to spell, be clean, etc. I would never dare criticize a woman for having standards for her mate, in fact I encourage it. I am simply saying that one woman, assuming she reads this and responds, will not have to concern herself with any of these things because...

"I am perfect !

"Now right away you are going to say "wait a minute, you sound arrogant to me". I would just politely point out that I am not engaging in braggadocio, in fact I am not quantifying anything - I am just expressing a fact: that I am perfect. This means I have the correct amount of confidence, am humble but not falsely modest, and have faith in God (who or whatever that may be) and my abilities.

"Where to begin, let's see. Well first, as you can detect, my command of English and spelling are impeccable (punctuation/grammar police, you may skip this posting - any concerns you may have are strictly a matter of interpretation, and since I am perfect and you are not, you are wrong). I have received the perfect amount of education, could read when I was 3 years old, and have an IQ of 151 - the perfect Intelligence Qotient - just enough to be a genius without all that imposing Steven Hawking/Albert Einstein stuff. I am **, which is the perfect age. I still have my youthful body, appearance, and sexual energy, but have the perfect amount of life experience to live life to the fullest. I intend to stay **.

"My heart rate and blood pressure, perfect and perfect. Perfect brown hair styled in a perfect bed-head spiky way, perfect expressive brown eyes, and perfect face - I look exactly the way I should. Height: 5'*", weight: 155 - perfect for my height. I play or played all the correct sports: golf, hockey, football, baseball, tennis, bowling, and avoid the others ("ultimate", basketball, soccer - wonderful to watch, but too much work to play, and lacrosse), have exactly the correct car (none), live in a perfect home in the perfect neighborhood in Central (naturally) *. I make it a point to be patient, polite, and helpful to others because it's just stupid to not be. Also, I'm hoping that instead of me telling you "I'm funny", that even if I'm not I do enjoy having a sense of humor and don't "take myself too seriously" - just the perfect amount of seriously.

"I am self-employed so I have the perfect boss, without saying exactly what I do I am in the perfect field for my skills and intelligence (IT). I am extremely talented musically, having taught myself to play several instruments, and have written, produced, and recorded several songs, lyrics included, doing all the performing myself. I recognized that life as a musician may lead to imperfection, so several years ago I decided I should have a real career.

"I know your next question: "if you're so damned (just the right amount of profanity) perfect, why are you not married ?". Duh. Is there some kind of law stating I'm imperfect if I'm not ? I've made it to ** still single and had time to accomplish many things, but still have enough left to do that it would be exciting to share it with someone. Is that not perfect ? As I write I realize that I could just go on and on about myself, but I'm thinking that I do not wish to take more than my fair share of your time."

Ed. Note: Etc., etc., etc...

Collections

I have had a few collections. My first was a stamp collection that my parents started for me at the tender age of about 9. It was a kit featuring a binder with pages for ALL the countries of the world (at that time), ready to show off my finds, and a little instruction booklet. For a short time I was enthused, collecting stamps willy-nilly: Montreal Olympics stamps, stamps from my West German relatives, those random sampler packs from Coles bookstore that contained stamps from obscure and exotic locales such as Trinidad and Tobago, or San Marino, or Yemen (my 9-yr.-old self marveled that those places had post offices). I even mastered the art of mounting those stamps with the little gummy glassine flaps that the booklet insisted I use. But my heart wasn't really in it. Less than a year into it, the binder was gathering dust in the back of my bedroom closet.

My next collection was my junior and senior high artwork. I had a few pieces of which I was rather proud, including my unusually good pencil sketches of furry animals like squirrels (no, really, they were actually REALLY good!), an anorexic-looking ballerina all in pink, and a brilliant vanishing point painting of red, blue and yellow boxes (pure genius...). Unfortunately, that collection died an untimely death when my bipolar mum, in one of her manic cleaning phases, tossed the entire portfolio (lovingly handmade of bristol board, staples and tempera paint) into the trash. After my adolescent rage faded, I vowed I was done with collecting.

My resolve didn't last, of course. While I was in university, my parents went on a junket to the British Isles -- a prize my dad earned for having sold the most Phillips T.V.'s in town. At some point during the trip, when she wasn't locked in her hotel suites' bathrooms (she was not a good traveler), mum bought me a scarf as a souvenir of Scotland. On my next visit to the thrift store near our home, I discovered a whole selection of souvenir scarves. The light bulb in my head clicked on. They were cute, cheap, reasonably portable, and dollars-to-doughnuts (what the hell DOES that mean?), nobody else in my acquaintance was going to be scouring the thrift stores for those babies -- making my collection UNIQUE!! Woo hoo!!! Thus my souvenir-or-vintage-or-just-plain-neato scarf collection was born.

150-or so scarves later, I am on to my newest collection, probably also unique. I collect Craigslist postings. Not just any postings, but specifically those from wfm or mfw 'Missed Connections' and the personals. The ones that make me laugh or have a really well-written story, or have a moving or profound thing to say. The ones that stick out in their uniqueness.

The 'Missed Connections' trolling is relatively easy to justify. Although I, like many others have a tiny, secret longing to be one of those missed connections, I, also like many others (as I am gradually realising), am attracted to CL - MC because of the occasional irresistible glimpse into the yearning of one soul (or hot bod) for another.

Trolling the personals is a little more difficult to defend, but I'll do my best. Yes, I am in a committed relationship -- we actually met on an internet personals site, for which we shelled out a bit of dough. Yes, after I started seeing The Boyfriend, I kept an oar in the water for a while, just in case prince turned to frog. Eventually, I deleted my profile, but now and then, when bored, I went back to have a look -- as a form of amusement (and maybe a little escapism). However, I never re-posted or contacted anyone. When I checked out Craigslist, I discovered its FREE personals -- a whole new animal. People could write as much or as little as they wanted, post pictures, e-mail each other for no money down. I figured this would attract a broader array of desperate singles and I was right. But some of those ads, good and bad, were too entertaining to ignore.

So I started a collection. It's pretty simple: if the ad looks good, I cut and paste into MSWORD. I'm up to over 200 pages now. I want to post excerpts from my favorites and see how it goes. I'm aware of the possibility of transgressing some term of service or other, but hopefully, by trying to retain the anonymity of the posts, I'll skate on the right side of the rules. Ergo: no names, locations, dates, times, or ages. Age-ranges, general appearance descriptions, and some personal preferences may be included. There won't be any overtly sexual writing, but the odd naughty allusion may pop up (HA! ...that's rather funny..!). Aside from what I just mentioned, it's all going to come from the horses' mouths. I won't be making any of this up, despite sometimes wishing I had. All that being said... here goes nothing...

On my walk home from work, I pass about six houses in one block that all have wind chimes hanging in their porches. When the wind is up, and blowing in from the right direction, I'm serenaded by a tinkly little orchestra for about two minutes or so. I love that.