Preface/Postscript to Love & Other Madness


You may have noticed that I no longer use this blog as my sounding board. 

It began as a place for me to sound off about the weirdness in my life.

My marriage  was failing, and my step-daughter Maya  had just undergone treatment for a brain tumor. I felt that I still loved my wife Linda, but she had become almost impossible to live with since her daughter had been diagnosed with the tumor. I say this now, but at the time, I simply couldn’t understand her coldness to me. She was depressed, of course, about Maya’s illness, and feared she was going to die. Even after Maya was operated on, experienced the hell of chemotherapy, and then had been through radiation treatments, Linda continued to be depressed and refused counseling. She believed that Maya would die. She drove me and Maya crazy with her obsession with that, despite the fact that Maya had survived and was found to be free of cancer. Her cancer had been an extremely rare brain tumor, one that had not spread to other parts of her body, and Maya’s blood and spinal fluid were free of any cancer cells. In short, there was every reason for optimism, but Linda would not let her fear go.

I learned, through the experience, that I loved Maya fiercely. I had lived with her about 13 years as she grew from girl  to woman,  and I had been shocked and scared as well that we would lose her. It was this possibility that Maya would die that hit me over the head with the fact that I loved her dearly. I hadn’t thought about it before. It was new to me that, (1.) I loved someone else besides my wife, and (2.) it was an unconditional love for another human being, and (3. ) she might die, and (4.) I didn’t want her to die. After she began treatment, I relaxed.  It looked as though she would survive. I felt something new: joy, joy that she would survive. I had been so depressed at the prospect that Maya could die, that the idea that she would not die came as the purest feeling of happiness I’d ever experienced. Up until that epiphany, I had never known such a feeling existed in reality.

In fact, I had been unhappy. Life with Linda had become difficult. Her negativity, her constant put downs, and her coldness were not new. She had been that way all along, and I simply didn’t care. I loved her, so I made excuses for her abusive behavior and her lack of human warmth and kindness to me. I was making do. During sex with her I felt closest to her, but sex was not something she cared much for. It was as though she allowed me to have sex as her duty as a wife. It was not something important to her. I had known passion with other women in the past. I loved Linda passionately, I felt, but she did not, could not, respond in kind. Such is life. I became accustomed to that, but I felt trapped. I wanted more from life. I was willing to accept that Linda gave me all she could, and my love for her was enough. Sometimes I felt that I deserved no better than that.

However, one day, when Linda roughly pushed me away when I touched her, I made a decision, a decision based on years of being pushed away, without explanation or gentleness: I was no longer going to stay committed to monogamy. This was the one relationship I’d had where I had actually felt monogamous. I hadn’t wanted other women. Other women were pretty, but not sexually attractive to me. My life before this marriage had been one in which I was always seeing or meeting women I felt physically attracted to. Being in love with Linda, I found her to be the only woman I wanted to be with. Now, I was tired of longing for her and being rejected over and over. I could have tolerated little or no sex if she had been respectful of me, of my opinions, my feelings, my hobbies. She was not. If she had given me any comfort at all during Maya’s illness, I’d have been happy. If she would have touched me sometimes, with a caress, or hug, or a warm kiss, I’d have stayed happy. But, there was none of that. I’d begun to feel as though I existed in her life only to provide entertainment, and pay the bills.

Having made this decision that I was open to other women, I began to notice the women at work, and notice that I could be attracted to other women than Linda. I spoke with a woman who worked in the department office, and found her appealing. Her accent and manner reminded me a bit of my brother Pat’s Texas wife, who he is now divorced from. She was very pretty. I lightly flirted with her, but she didn’t appear to be interested, although she was single and quite friendly. One day, at an office Xmas party, I was introduced to a young woman who worked part-time in the department: Karen.

Karen and I hit it off right away, discovering that we had an unusual but strong affection for a science fiction TV show,  Babylon 5. Trekkies didn’t seem to like it much, and although we had both been interested in Star Trek at one time, we had both been much more fascinated with the Babylon 5 universe created by J. Michael Straczynski. Karen pointed out articles and blogs by Straczynski, which showed that his politics and beliefs heavily influenced the show, and that those politics and beliefs were the same ones held by Karen and myself. This was beyond belief to me at first. I’d had never met anyone like her.

Over time we discovered a mutual admiration for certain science fiction authors, of the characterization in Marvel Comics, of Japanese Anime, and a love of peace, and justice. I came to believe Karen was like a soul mate to me, trite as that phrase is now. I fell in love with her. I desired her intensely. I lusted for her. She is quite sexy. Two major problems: (1.) I was married, and (2.) I was much older than her. At first, I was not that interested in Karen except as a friend; she was just too young. Over time, I decided, self indulgently, that I didn’t care about her age. She was in her middle 20’s and quite old enough for me after all. I found that, although I felt I still loved my wife, I wanted Karen. I loved her too. Initially I wanted both women; something very selfish, and very impossible. Karen made it clear she wasn’t like that. She would never be a married man’s lover. (In theory, since we rarely talked about anything personal). In fact she did not want to know anything about my wife, or hear me speak of her at all. I wondered about that; in my delirium, I thought it meant she was jealous of my married life, perhaps of my wife. I hoped it meant she cared for me. However, she never wanted to meet except  for lunch. Lunches with Karen became very exciting for me.

If you’ve read the entries in this blog, you know that things got worse and worse for me. Linda and I divorced. I briefly hoped that an obstacle to at least dating Karen was gone, but no, Karen told me that even going to a movie together (Silver Surfer) that we had both planned to see was like a date, and a date was inappropriate. After that, our relationship (we had been eating lunch together every Friday for about four years) deteriorated. She was more and more often busy, and just didn’t have time for me as often anymore. Our lunches became rare and awkward, and pretty much stopped. Between Karen and my divorce from Linda, I was often sad, and becoming more depressed by the day. My job no longer gave me any satisfaction, and I wanted out. The divorce had resulted in my loss of the house I had jointly owned, and all the money and time I had put into it. I had previously sold my own house, paying off debts Linda and I had accumulated, so I didn’t think I could retire, as I had no money left to buy another house of my own. I had been close to paying off the house Linda and I owned, but she got the house and I got to keep my pension. After two years, and giving it a lot of  thought, I said: “Fuck it,” and I retired anyway.

I didn’t see my ex-wife again for four years, and I never saw Karen again. I came to understand that Karen may well have been a substitute Linda, for one thing, in that I hoped to have my feelings for Linda reciprocated from Karen. I may have simply transferred my feelings for Linda over to Karen. But, there is an odder possibility that I spent much thought upon. Since Karen was just slightly older than my step-daughter Maya, and initially there was the possibility that Maya could die, perhaps I unconsciously began to substitute Karen for Maya? What that said about my feelings for Maya troubled me, but I came to believe that I wanted Karen more than anyone in the world, that I would die for her, that I would do anything for her, and she was all I ever wanted in the world anymore. It was, I believe, a psychological illness. I was loony tunes, out of my head (well, trapped in my head to be accurate). I no longer had any anchor to reality. Impossible things seemed possible, and the possible seemed false and unreal. I spiraled into a deep depression, and I really did want to die. There just didn’t seem to be any reason to live any more.

It took some time, some brief counseling, and a bit of antidepressant, but I lost all interest in Karen; I can no longer believe I was ever interested in her. It shocks me to think I thought I loved her. I loved my ex-wife Linda, and still do. I love my step-daughter Maya. Nothing else ever mattered; nothing else matters now. I have tried dating, but without success. A woman I used to hike with was very nice to me, but the relationship never went anywhere, and appears to have died out. I was initially extremely lonely and often horny, but all that seems to have faded away now.  I do not find most women attractive. Recently I found myself interested in another young woman, a model I took photographs of,  but that was brief, stupid and doomed to failure, for the same reasons my relationship with Karen was never going to go anywhere.

I once wrote, in the short story, The Boy Who Rode His Bicycle Into Manhood, that I spent the rest of my life simply walking the ditches around my neighborhood, reflecting on my life, and never interacting in any meaningful way with another human being ever again. It seems that pessimistic and depressing ending of my story is actually coming true! That is my life now, although it is not as depressing as I thought then. It just is.

What prompted this sudden return to this blog? I went to a salsa concert the other night.Salsa Albuquerque  I was enjoying the music, and watching the dancers, and then Linda walked in. A friend of hers recently moved here and they share our old house, so they came together. I think they both saw me, but neither acknowledged it. They looked in my direction when I was the only one in that direction (up on the balcony above their heads).  I was shocked to see Linda, and that she looked really good to me. I considered going over to where the two sat down, and asking Linda, or her friend, who I had been friendly with, to dance. But then I saw Linda dancing with someone, and having a great time. It reminded me of how much we loved salsa dancing and how often we went: usually once a week, but sometimes twice a week, and for most of the 14 years that we had been together. It wasn’t unusual for Linda to dance with other men at the club we went to. Most were friends she had danced with before meeting me, and other times she just liked to dance with the experts. That’s the way things are in these salsa clubs and dances. Even if people come with a date, everyone dances with everyone else. A man usually asks a woman’s date or husband for permission first, and after a few times it is understood without asking.

So, I was not jealous seeing Linda dance with another man the other night. It was a feeling of sadness, terrible sadness, that I was no longer part of her life, that I could never dance with her again. My feelings so overwhelmed me that I stayed rooted to one spot for an hour. Then, I considered jumping off the balcony. Obviously I didn’t. I never asked anyone to dance, never went over to Linda and her friend to say hello. I just listened to the music, watched the other dancers, and drank three beers. I am not part of Linda’s life and can never be again. We could not live together anymore anyway, but my desire for her is no less, after four long years of sobriety, soliloquy, and solitariness. Oh, well. That is most certainly the way life can turn out. I had a good run. I stay busy these days, hiking in the mountains, reading, watching old movies, and helping make wine at a local winery. All of it distracts me from my sadness for brief amounts of time, so I’m optimistic that I will actually find happiness in just living again. I used to want passion in my life; now, I would just like a reason to live. Love & Other Madness was a small slice of my life, a time when I slipped the bounds of reality and dared to dream of greater happiness and passion. In so doing, I lost everything I cared about. I make the motions now, do things, talk with people, get some exercise. It’s my reality.

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Madness Made Personal


silence No word from Karen lately.  My heart is cold and empty.  I haven’t heard from her since Friday the 13th.  I sent her an email after we had lunch, wishing her a lucky Friday the Thirteenth, since she likes those movies so much.  No response, but I wouldn’t have expected one.  It’s pretty rare when she responds to anything, unless it has to do with lunch.  She is very busy these days, and often out of the office, so even the people at the cafeteria haven’t seen her there much lately.  They know her; she’s very friendly to them all, and wishes them a good weekend on Fridays.  She almost always gets a Frito Pie like I do, so they know her as a regular for those delicious things.  She gets hers with beef; I get mine with chicken.  I went last Friday, even though she didn’t respond to my email, but didn’t see her.  No response today either, and a no show.  In fact, I checked the status of the email I sent today, and it was delivered, but not opened.  However, if she opened it with her cell phone, the University’s email system wouldn’t know.  That often happens when I communicate with Philip in the lab, so I never know if he got my emails saying I’d be late, or not coming in. Since he never checks the phone messages, I have to send emails.  He always gets them, but the system doesn’t show it.

So, Karen could have read it, or seen that it was from me and ignored it.  On Friday the 13th she deleted the message I sent right away and purged it right away.  No big deal. She might have been away today; she might respond Monday.

Last weekend I sent an email to her hotmail account.  She used to forward interesting stories to me from that email, so that’s why I have it.  I’ve almost given up sending or forwarding anything to that account, since she never responds.  I even asked her if she still used the account, and, “Yes,” she said,  it’s still her main email account.   She could have decided to block emails from me a long time ago, after I practically begged her to come visit me, and even confessed one time that I kept trying to find something we could do together that wasn’t like a date, (and therefore inappropriate).  She did get that one, I think, because she was mad afterwards, and said something about “people’s” inappropriate behavior. She never tells me anything right out, except in direct face-to-face response to a request to meet  for dinner after work or see a movie, and those, she said, would be like a date.  So, I’ve stopped asking.  However, I did ask her, via email one day, if she had seen Changeling.   It’s written by J. Michael Straczynski, and she’ll read or see anything of his.  She responded, in her typical wordy fashion: “Not Yet.”  Then again, ‘The Changeling‘ is the name of a horror film from 1980, so maybe she thought I meant that?  She much prefers movies like that.  Perhaps the Clint Eastwood-directed movie with Angelina Jolie is not her style? No, she stays current on everything Straczynski does, so it has to be that one.  She probably already saw the horror movie.  Actually, the whole idea of a changeling is centuries old; the belief that a baby was switched at birth  and a demon substituted, as in: changeling_large – from 1780.

So I rented it from Netflix; it had been in my queue for months, and was finally available.  She won’t let me lend her a Netflix movie after I’ve watched it.  She thinks that is improper somehow, even though the movies aren’t checked out just for me to watch by myself only.  I can’t imagine they care if someone else watches it, even if it’s not in my home with me.  She won’t do it.  So, I had the movie; it had arrived on Thursday afternoon and I hadn’t had a chance to watch it. I sent an email to her hotmail account, asking her to come watch it with me.  I said I’d wait until 7:00 pm, but if she needed to come earlier or later, that was OK, but to let me know if she was coming later.  I even said I’d wait until Saturday or Sunday if she liked.  No response.  In fact, I gave up on the whole idea of watching it.  I sat on it all week, hoping to see her today, ask her in person, but she wasn’t there.  I didn’t send an email this time.  Not much point.  I still wish we could be such friends, at least, as would watch a movie together.  I don’t know why I feel so attached to her.

Madness:

I received a note in Facebook from an old friend of the Dragon.  She has known the Dragon since childhood in LA.  She asked how I was doing, and I wrote to her.  I told her that my step-daughter had heard her mother tell someone on the phone that we split up because I told her I didn’t love her.  Fucking unbelievable!  I never said such a thing.  I assumed that the Dragon heard me say, “I didn’t call her while she was away, because I didn’t miss her,” and she heard that to mean I didn’t love her. No, not the case.  Apparently, the Dragon told her old friend that I specifically told her I didn’t love her, and she threw it in my face, saying, for instance, “Why would I want to go with someone who doesn’t love me?”  And, since I didn’t contradict her, it must have been true.  Bizarre!  The actual words she used were, “Why would I want to go (as in travel) with someone who doesn’t want to be with me?”  A little different, but we’d already been over that, and she was yelling it at me, and my step-daughter was right there, so I wanted to avoid upsetting her any more than necessary.  There was nothing I could say.  I told her I did want to drive with her, but she was having none of it.  Later on, she called me from LA, wanting to know why I was using HER daughter as a messenger.  And, how DARE I say anything to her at all? My wonderful step-daughter had tired to tell her mom that I still loved her, which is what I had told her, and, I had not asked her to say anything to her mother.  The Dragon roared, screaming in my ear, and accused me of being a liar, and a terrible husband, and cheap, and stingy, and I had to hang up.  She called back to tell me that half of everything I had was hers.  She had noticed that I’d written her a check for half of the IRS refund, as was our custom, and she said I was already splitting everything up for a divorce.  She would not listen to me at all.

dragon1 It”ll be two years in May since this happened.  I went into the details in earlier posts back then, so no need to rehash it.  The interesting thing is that the Dragon is telling people I actually told her I didn’t love her, when I was telling everyone who would listen that I did.    So, the entire thing could be a result of miscommunication?   She often did that anyway.  Her hearing is bad, even when I’m looking directly at her and speak clearly.  She’ll tell me I said something else entirely, and insist that I’m lying, and I hate being told I’m a liar. It always made me mad.  I couldn’t help it. I would try to show her how she might have misunderstood or not heard right, but since she’s never wrong, she couldn’t even admit the possibility.  In her mind I change my story later, even when there’s no benefit to me to do so.

Now, I’m supposed to have not retracted my statement about not loving her (and she is supposed to have given me a chance to), and to have not fought for her, when she wasn’t talking to me at all, and locked herself in a bedroom and stayed on the phone non-stop night after night for three weeks.  She would glare at me like a child and not speak, and then finally said I had to leave or she’d call the police, say her life was in danger.  Turns out that people do that, and I would have been forced out, and later on there’d be a hearing, but by then I’d be out of the house living somewhere else, and why would I want to go back then?  (When she finally spoke, it was only to get the house for herself.)

So, I didn’t think there was much to say.  As I expected, I am the villain – it was all my fault, and everything I ever said was a lie.

I don’t know what to think anymore.  Is she crazy as a loon too, or is it just me?

Applicable Image

Why why why :-)


08/13/08

Unrequited. Art by John Su (http://JohnSu.DeviantArt.com).

John Su is pretty funny. Loved this take on unrequited love. I hope he doesn’t mind if I post it here.

[Message to Karen:

Come and sit by my side if you love me,

Do not hasten to bid me adieu

Just remember the (Duke City) valley,

And the old boy that loved you so true.]

- (with apologies to singer Box Car Willie)

Finis to Karen


No email from Karen about lunch today; I waited until 1:15 and then headed to the cafeteria before they closed. Saw Karen outside, which was odd as she usually won’t sit outside. I said hello, and remarked on her being outside; she said it was too cold to sit inside. She was dressed in light summer clothes, showing a lot of skin. I gawked a little at first, and looked away. I ran inside to get lunch, assuming I’d sit with her, but when I came out, she was long gone, not even walking away. Probably ran as fast as she could. She was the reason I got my new “Sad” tattoo, and I didn’t even get to show it her.

C’est la vie.

But, actually, it still matters. To me. Hurts. I keep wondering why she said what she did a couple weeks ago about friends taking her out to do things. So, I’m not a friend? Everything I’ve ever suggested is inappropriate to her, or like a date. Friends make dates, but I guess that’s an old, outdated meaning of the word. I have no idea if she meant it would be OK to do something together, or she was just saying that she has fun. It’s so odd to me that she has friends she’ll hang out with, but for all the things we used to have in common or talk about, she doesn’t consider me a friend after knowing each other over four years. I just have a hard time understanding this, and why it is so important to me.

– (More graffiti art. Photo by Paul Armstrong, who took the photo in Minneapolis, Minnesota at an abandoned wheat grain elevator near the University of Minnesota)

Life Goes On for An Emo Bitch


05/28/08

That’s what someone called me in a comment on one of these posts. Odd that people think emotions should be kept quiet and to oneself. Certainly one of the most valuable reasons to use a blog is to be able to vent and rant and rage. It’s not all about politics and sports and recipes. (Jeff Thomas)

So, I drift along. Had a nice dinner with my step-daughter. She’s my antidote for everything else.

I still don’t know what to do with my life, but I’m hanging in. I met someone awhile back and we’ll get together soon. I’m also invited to a single’s picnic in the mountains on Sunday, so that should be interesting. I think that’s what I should do more often. One always has a feeling of being an extra wheel on the couples’ bus when one is single. No reason to rush not being single, although spending one’s time alone is a life not fully lived. Having experienced love and being in love, one tends to miss it. (redundant1)

Got a new tattoo; can’t say why. It had been 33 years since I’d gotten the first and only other one, so perhaps it was time. I thought about a lot of dark tats, full of razor blades and bloody hearts but settled on an image with some power that is still appropriate for this stage of my life. My first tat was of a bicycle I drew myself, surrounded by an omega. This one is an image I used in this blog before, the ‘sad’ image from last June 7th’s posting. it is an amazingly popular image, often the main reason anyone finds my blog at all. Now I have it on my arm. I like it. 

Several other bloggers have incorporated it into their posts. It’s the most popular post I have with 6412 views so far, (out of 122,119) with most readers having clicked on that image.

I’ve taken the wheels off of my bicycle, in preparation for replacing the tubes and tires, so I should be back on that soon. Rode all over the USA on bicycles, but got lazy when I got the motorcycle. Perhaps it’s time to give the motorcycle a rest, and get the body back into shape.

I’ve been treating the pre-cancerous keretoses on my face, so I look like a teenager full of zits now. One month of treatment so far, one month now with no treatment, and then another month of treatment. I don’t know if this will get rid of these or not, or if I’ll have to repeat these treatments during the rest of my life. It’s interesting to see how all that sun I got bicycling is coming back to haunt me now. Well, it’s better to have something pre-cancerous under treatment than have to deal with full-blown skin cancer. This ‘Aldara’ cream they prescribed is also used for basal cell carcinomas (skin tumors) and genital warts, so I have no idea how effective it is going to be in the long run. The dermatologist says I’ll live another 30 years or so, so it’s not anything life threatening. See: Keratoses & Barnacles & Young Pretty Doctors.

What’s really funny is that my job at one time was giving skin cancer to rats and treating them with various combinations of chemotherapy agents and radiation before the doctors could use those treatments on people. I saw a lot of tumors back then, especially since I used to have to dissect the rats when they died. I saw how skin cancer spreads to internal organs: heart, lungs, liver, and even the brain. Not pretty. So, I will continue to treat these so-called “pre”-cancerous bumps. Let me tell you now – you don’t ever want full-blown skin cancer.

My friend Jin is back from China. She missed the earthquakes by one day, and her family and friends are OK. It took much longer to travel there than normally. She brought back some Tieh Quan Yin (or tie kwan yin) tea. It is an oolong tea also known as Iron Goddess of Mercy, and has tightly curled leaves, having been subjected to a complicated process of repeated rolling and baking, developed three hundred years ago in Fujian’s Anxi area. When brewed, it is light-red or amber in color, with a sweet mellow taste. The tea can be reused all day without losing its taste. She gave me some after I showed her my tattoo, so I wouldn’t be sad. She is so nice.

Happy Valentine’s Day, NOT!


Feb. 14, 2008

Karen sent me an email Wednesday, said she couldn’t go to lunch Friday; “…do you want to have lunch tomorrow?” Well, of course. Tomorrow, which is today, is Valentine’s Day, so it couldn’t be better. My convoluted mind believed that I might get a card from K, or something like that. Yesterday, I happened to see her coming in to the coffee cart, and a student group was selling cookies, so I bought her a heart-shaped iced cookie and gave it to her, and ran back to my lab. Since she sent the email later, I figured the cookie was OK, and perhaps she liked it? Hah!

heart.jpg

I found a recipe for a bloody heart cake that actually drips blood.

Penn & Teller’s Bleeding Heart

Ingredients
4 cups of water, four 3-oz. boxes or two 6-oz boxes of peach (pink; think of lung tissue), or strawberry (redder; think of livers and hearts) gelatin dessert mix, 4 envelopes unflavored gelatin, one 12-ounce can unsweetened evaporated milk, 1/2 cup grenadine syrup, 1 cup light corn syrup, one small bottle (0.3 fl. oz.) red food coloring, 3 drops blue food coloring, one 1-gallon food-storage bag (the plain kind without the zip closure), heart-shaped gelatin mold

Preparation
Boil the water. Put the packaged gelatin dessert and unflavored gelatin in a bowl and pour the boiling water over it, stirring constantly. Cool to room temperature (very important or the next step may present problems). Stir in the evaporated milk. Note how it already is acquiring the color of freshly skinned flesh. Pour the mixture into the gelatin mold. Cover the bottom of the mold (this will be the top when you serve it) with a layer about half an inch think. Refrigerate until it gels firmly.

Meanwhile, prepare a nice bladder of blood. Stir together the corn syrup, grenadine, and food colorings (we do it right in the measuring cup to save dish washing–every erg saved in preparation is an erg one can use to enjoy the Payoff). For the bladder (the bag that keeps the blood together inside the mass of gelatin) take the gallon-size food-storage bag and turn it inside out. Pour the blood mixture into one corner of the bag and twist it closed so that no air bubble is caught between the sauce and the twist. Tie a knot in the twisted plastic. Adjust the position of the knot so that when the bag lies on the counter, it’s about 1 1/2 to 2 inches high, and tighten the knot. With a pair of scissors, snip off the frilly extra plastic outside the knot.

When the gelatin on the bottom of the mold is stiff and firm, position the bladder of blood in the mold, with the point of the bag just inside the point of the heart. Make sure there is at least 3/4″ of space between all sides of the bag and the walls of the mold (this will ensure that your guests don’t see clues ahead of time). Pour in the remaining gelatin until the mold is as full as you can handle. Don’t worry if you see a little of the blood-bladder grazing the surface of the gelatin, as longs as it doesn’t project too much; the side you are looking at now will be the bottom when you serve it.

Refrigerate until gelled firmly to the texture of fine, lean organ meat. It takes about 4 hours.
To unmold, put about 2 1/2 inches of hot, but not boiling water in your sink. Set your mold in the water so that the water comes just below the edge of the mold for 15 to 20 seconds; the time depends on the thickness of the mold pan. Remove the mold from the water, and run the blade of a knife around the edge of the gelatin. Invert your serving platter, ideally a white pedestal cake plate, on top and hold it firmly in place. Then use both hands to turn over the mold and the plate. Remove the mold; you may need to tap or shake the mold slightly to free the gelatin.

Presentation
The blood looks prettiest when it flows over white plates, doilies, and table linen, which it may stain permanently–but what the hell, it’s the effect that matters. To serve, use a nice, big Psycho-style chef’s knife and stab the side of the gelatin about one third of the way up from the pointed end of the heart. Twist the knife slightly, and blood will start to ooze out. Bare your teeth like a Marine jabbing with bayonet, and widen the wound. When the blood is coming at a good slip, grab a dessert plate, and cut a slice from one of the lobes of the heart. Flip it onto the plate, and drizzle it with blood by holding it under the edge of the pedestal. Add whipped cream and serve.

Happy Valentine’s Day! skeleton-on-a-bleeding-heart.jpeg

So, I took all this information and made my own card, and printed it up to give to Karen today. She looked a little apprehensive to be getting a card from me, but with the picture of the bloody heart and no sweet sentiments in it, it was OK. While we waited for lunch, there were some more cookies by the lunch counter; these had traditional sayings on them, like, “You’re Sweet.” Karen picked that one up to look at it, and screwed her face up – she doesn’t like stuff like that at all! Hates it! In fact, as far as she is concerned, Valentine’s Day is too contrived, and meaningless. I cringed inwardly at that. What will she think of 30 tulips at her house when she gets home? She did bring in her painted candle for me to look at today. That was nice of her. She was happy with it. She added a couple of clay bats with ruby eyes. Showed me a picture of the wreath she’s making with the skeleton hanging from a noose, and a human heart at the bottom. It has eyeballs all around it, spiked on nails. That’s what she likes, which is OK by me – hence the bloody heart picture and recipe. Unfortunately, I think she is sweet, and sexy and I do have feelings for her. I’m glad I didn’t add my name to the card with the flowers now.

I think I’ll send her an e-mail before I go home; tell her it wasn’t me, I didn’t do it; I don’t know anything about it. 😦

throwingitaway.jpg Oh, well. I didn’t have anyone else to blow $75 on anyway. What would I need money for?

valentines_day.jpg