29 April 2023 — Q1: Okeh… so no questions at all, just sadness and scorn. And a tantalizing reference to a “book,” with or without a message. Big talk or procrastination? Hawthorne, Huxley, or Nourse? And that’s just assuming it is one of my lost treasures, rather than an overdue(?) retaliation on behalf of tribe, alliance, or ideology. Maybe that IS the “message.” “Book” has been used as a metaphor before, and I am not sure that’s not the case now. Or the even more obvious possibility of taunting. But most likely, it is the benign and innocent act of procrastination, so I will neither offer nor request more anon until persuaded otherwise. And while my faith remains insignificantly tiny, my hopes remain great. Hope may be a poor plan, but it’s an effective palliative, on a par almost with laughter itself.
25 February 2023 (though completely unintentional)
Kojuxit: Twit qoax fu oimtuz fu axen duogd dyk’jet dupd ftjoigs aoj olef tjis waken ohep.
[ irrelevant grammar note: shouldn’t that be “new friends who” rather than “that?” ]
Tmgea opd sew dfog opd sexy dfel dpia rjemu, fax gewks tup waken dhlodjewv opdyk obimuog dy’jtwit tju waxen tojtantfil wix ffoar qi dazy. (Gedito — “Kojuxit” jupd godgepf “Ffikus Pydaxel” fix aep? “Ocidajilit?”) Oluj ocidajilit olef ioz waken we gosog ed ol gews ol ed djudgehli weed yogoway waxen. Kowl sexy vjipd waken duap hay flaf ndal oiddogh dupd ffoar kik wefk, (vif) “Ffikuspydaxel” wolk rjimmuc ed fguon famh-oidfes sew hipsjeidumog ikol tju (vif) fgaen toffaotog oc’ayen.
Ffjontimmodji yikol dmafji dy’jet. Vyful yu qed wolk dfem waken ikuf waken tju?
Fax wed faegontjut waken fviul mdiap, waxen ed djugdehli swj ogu frjimoos. Frjimoos gaye daezu oguv dy’jfoet dfant op ofaevoz, fawx legs iuau fix wop joap joco, frjimoos-paws-pays gaye dgap ed foajidjev keep ojeolef dpia hipfjeidumog ofemv yu jik wed masjiuh weed dixy tjaes wocup yoway fuk, oz ed dej fix dupd oimdjotico dazy.
(Gedito — dawe dixy rjimag dej mmidf l’ik.)
Fydo, fydo, Vixum opdyk, foiddiv gewks rjiguv, Mymop Pew tju omepjgev rjiiumh, hipsjeidumog gaye tju ol tju waken, Jiudjnael Pydjocof duk Jji opd, ohet tju fvilev pdia Klint tju waken, oiphefemiph tju Lyfijuigudgozim rjiffavfit, rjipraum, daye rjimmigr, Voogv Gotmaez du vifal ed rjijodfi[m :]tup yoway folid teer opd sexy oijul gozlolog ed tju, muop ed omzu oz mymuk dpril yoway, todguh yoway jowapdupd vjipd tit wik.
Ed rjier goco dy’jfuqwa tju rjivgea dy’jfuqwa dixy fakeicze oluvoz dixy oimmuadjoco dazy, fipd fvis ed rjiiogd daezu ogoway fjeiffavfit masjiuh ofepd mykmuk. (Gedito — hfugr ed don wocup xi dupd ffjujoh tgioa gopde olef dazy, ogel et ed GOCOJ fix omddim weed ojet rjicup ed jeidamef opd dupyd jiuru don rjijguom tju Joodojij-Oidjoad sexy Iomant gozlolog I mymoka aep. Oagd weed tju tuf weed.) Ticev ogesov rjem rjijohhup fuqwa fipd tjuk. Fawx tjudfgotja dy’jtmaev waken tju (fjeiducidel, fdpraepd, fjeidvu gayen) waken tjudfgotja dej tmaev yoway ofaevoz, dguhu mymosk fhipfjeidumog gaye moos wik.
(Gedito — oimdjoguhhu, jiuru goco wi mymiak gej.) Dixy dewry gocoj oimfaeicze waken fux, ffomdjieh mmuy fuqwa dixy oimdjotico. Focmofgaye jiumhfvo waken tjudfgotja ed rjiiogd oimodugohfot [gaye] sex fguon wakos dfum opdyk waken toguhf wocup tmaea dixy dazy (gedito — YOLK gewx), ol jooz wocup tmaev dixy gewx. Tiot tju wocup tmaea Klint oziul tjuk Ticev jodder tup yoway six waken gewks goddoz jooz wocul dpril dixy odumhlodjev waken dupyd masjiuh wefq. Fax pejr ed jooz wocup dfal six masjiuh aep tju remz gayen jew fax daezu joddgp wocup waxen duwap jew tofuz fax legs vuz guop ed djuka tmaea waxen ioap ogafja yogu yoway.
Remz gayen tuxogy efmu wocup dazy, fygoddum gayen tocoifog wocup yoway. Duwap pejyr dyk’jet wik dazy, rjipdolef odigp tmaepf I moosk yix. Dej gex rjipdoiju odigp mmia op six pejr d’jet wik. Waxen wed jgadog ed fjier fix tjuy tjaes wop dupyd fgayen sexy veez wuk fup Klint.
Duogd dyk’jet (vif) dupd ftjoigs aoj olef tjis waken ohep you as badly as we did. — Ojuxit
It might have been EASIER, but I have serious doubts about “better.” That was a little more verbose than, “Leave [us] alone forever,” maybe, and therefore more satisfying than a more cursory dismissal. But it’ll probably work just as well. Albeit “one [package] too late”? There were no explicit questions this time, which makes this a little more challenging, and I am disinclined to hold people to their implications, no matter how pointed. On the other hand, I am ever willing to take one hundred per sent responsibility for MY inferences. Everything and everyone I’ve ever loved has hurt me in one way or another, and the more I loved, the more it hurt. That’s because love is worth it. The more I love something the more vulnerable I am to it, and the more it CAN hurt me. Things I don’t love rarely get close enough.
*In re “Mouthface” (sic) —
it IS clever, but I won’t take credit for others’ coinage.
Omep dupyd jix dygit tjaes waxen, fjeidumatugryjev!
Swysadf fipd gewks rjirrit oz udder oc’ayen pejr qi, ogop dor ed wolk fyviud dixy rjem aep rjigotifjev, oimmujis tju, efmuk.
20 May 2023 — It would have been “EASiER” to have killed my cats before flying one of them over an ocean or driving another across a continent. It would have been “EASiER” but it would not have been (nor is it now) “BETTER” to live without them. Now it is possible that in an earlier entry I may have mistaken “easier” for “better” and erroneously suggested that I would have preferred the death of loved ones to endless discussions. I don’t know. It is a big file and I’m not looking. If true, then I am grateful for any and all corrections. In any event, maybe* I don’t need friends so much as less contentious editors. (*As always, to those who decline to see it, “maybe” also means “maybe not.” Some folks seem to enjoy forgetting that.)
28 June 2023 — It seems like the ideal gift. I picked it up tonight at work. Its charms overcame my resistance, and I yielded to the temptation. It is small, wry, inexpensive, and it speaks loudly to the values (that I believed) that we shared. But, coming from me, it may not be as welcomed as intended. After all, how could it be sincere, coming from the obsessively and annoyingly candid? (Or how could it be otherwise?) Or maybe it’s just another way of “looking down,” even as I often feel that I am looking up to the admirable and the accomplished. But what do I know about how I feel? That’s for those with multiple questions at the ready to determine. I mean, I THOUGHT that I admired and loved and respected him, but wiser heads have pointed out, repeatedly, that the only thing I can feel is contempt.
Well, I guess I still have a couple of months to figure it out, but my inclination now is to send it off with a brief card expressing my hopes for their continued happiness, satisfaction, and peace. If those are not countervailing criteria.
(9 August 2023 — still ruminating over (quite possibly but not yet certainly) this having been Seven, but now looking maybe more like Eight, if I dare to express my joy and admiration over their marital endurance. I’ll now attempt to resume chronological clarity.)
1 July 2023 — Six — Oh frabjous day! Calloo Callais! A box of books has come my way! Thanks so much for the surprise delivery! I was delighted and joyful to receive the unexpected box of treasures today. I had all but forgotten them. The fact that there were missing books that I didn’t even realize were missing points out just how much confusion can be wrought by moving in, moving out, or moving on. (That might be too much as it is, but I hope that I’ve stripped away the unwelcome, never funny, and unnecessarily provocative parts. Along with a bit of the sincerity, too, I’m afraid. And maybe the bad poetry is also a form of “looking down.” I must contemplate before transcribing, lest the truth annoy yet more.)
2 July 2023 — Usually, a day or so after sending a letter over which I’d agonized for hours while composing, rejecting, revising, and rewriting, it will occur to me that I included yet another grave insult. Maybe I’m getting better at understanding what some people find offensive AND amusing, but not always at the same time, and often without discernible distinctions. THIS time, I’m feeling much more confident. Even after surrendering the envelope to the post, I fear no extraordinary repercussions. But I felt the same way about the first five, too, and they seemed to land a LOT harder than I intended. But at least I didn’t include my latest poetic composition (“Hotez Bears the WHO”), even as I am quite proud of it. I’ve shared it with my alleged FakeBook “friends” and received fitting plaudits, but I’m also aware that even my gentle jabs at orthodoxy can still stir religious anger from the faithful and the committed. Maybe the worst thing about my never funny poetry is how much Drama Queen (or “Diva Dearest”) and L’Historienne (or “Drama Princess”) seemed to enjoy it. Well, at least Drama Queen is now safely dead, so Klint (or “Taxzy”) need no longer fear her smiling at him again.
8 July 2023 — Just four more letters (and another six months?) and maybe I’ll receive another free scolding. Almost seems worth it.
12 July 2023 — (maybe not quite) Seven (just yet)
While I can’t guarantee that my memories of successful grabbiness have been expunged, I can still hope that my surrendering this beautiful embarrassment will provide a little extra comfort. Of course, having been distrusted as I have, I cannot offer any assurance that I haven’t copied it onto some platform supporting “revenge porn.” It doesn’t seem like me, but then, neither does irrational or vindictive. On the other hand, what do I know about what I feel? The experts have already concluded that I delight in tormenting the innocent.
10 August 2023 — (more likely actually really) Seven
Happy Anniversary!
Such marital endurance as yours is a sterling example of trust, resolve, and commitment. It is an admirable and enviable accomplishment, and I am grateful to have known you and to have witnessed the wondrous reality of it. (Now, that doesn’t look to me like anyone could find an insult in there. Of course, “sterling” might be considered to be contentious, as it is not usually employed by ‘Mericans. But at only two syllables, I think it’s far better than “fine, outstanding, excellent, and of exceedingly high value.” So… brevity, clarity, or poetry? The eternal struggle. Also, I need to not underestimate the commitment of the most eagerly aggrieved. I’d better let this simmer before transcription. Maybe if I were to intentionally misspell something?)
19 August 2023 — calling off Seven altogether?
That may be best, or at least keep putting it off. I keep pondering these thoughts, and every word provides impetus for injury to the sufficiently committed. Of course, every dead end does help to illuminate the rest of the map, so I do remain optimistic about the presence of ponies. As for stratedgery, I never have acknowledged the anniversary, so that can’t be missed, and birthdays have been a little more haphazard than total neglect so there might still be some entre left there. And that particular token is just so damned apt that I’m finding it hard to resist. That gives me another month of sweet anguish, I reckon. Best get to wallowin’ in it!
28 August 2023 –– Putting off Seven some more…
No matter what it turns out to be.
I may have dithered long enough to save myself from deciding again. Saturday hurtles at us, and I likely would not be able to find the ideal “Two-in-a-Canoe” themed card that expresses my respect, admiration, and affection. And there’s plenty to inspire such feelings. Their marriage is a sterling example of mutual support, respect, and enduring fidelity, even if that word is interpreted in different ways by the vast majority of binary bigots. Their fidelity, their truth, their loyalty to each other above all others is an inspiration. But now the mails wouldn’t get my imagined card there in time. And it’s probably just as well. My attempts to express respect, admiration, or affection are most likely to be seen as more insults, assaults, and denigration. Or more specifically, “looking down on people who have (VERY LOUDLY) given [me] money!” But with the less emphasis on interpersonal relationships, the birthdays might be better opportunities to reestablish comity.
I’ve got just the thing!
3 September 2023 — The Day has Passed
Fittingly, I finally finished the last of Sykson‘s cheap bourbon yesterday. My thanks again to the gracious and generous Joyguv for not throwing it out instead as she struggled to keep Syk away from it. Also of course, my continuing thanks for Joy‘s not inconsiderable other generous subsidies, about which she was never either loud nor self-righteous, nor ever even evinced any suggestion that I should behave thereby either falsely or disingenuously.
Elsewhere among Team Jedgelvegpyd, yet another anniversary of a most auspicious union has passed, WITHOUT any apparent disturbances or distractions from misbegotten supernumeraries. Knowing that one, at least, is a “man of action,” whom “lies do not become” assures me that these words will NOT be seen, nor contemplated nor pondered nor brooded over. Because it was said. So there won’t be looks, questions, comments, nor printed screenshots of mysterious “secret languages” for attempted decryption. As upon the Pedophile Mohammed, Eternal Peace be upon Him. That’s a comfort.
Others are less incurious, however, and allow the questions to nag. I can hope then that this is a suitable substitute and a vicarious replacement for defense against “attacks” yet still fear for the consequences of the loss of the other relief valve of sotto voce utterances of frustration and fatigue into sympathetic ears.
And still too far… for catching… whenever she’d fall…
We’d said it best…
Meanwhile, life goes on and birthdays approach to remind us that we hurtle towards oblivion along a path of decrepitude and decay. Viva!
9 September 2023 — Happy ®Trekkiversary and Nascence!
Yesterday (8 September) was the anniversary of the premiers of both Auld Trek® (“TOS®” – 1966) and Toon Trek® (“TAS®” – 1973). Trek fandom is one of the strongest emotional bonds (outside of our natural concern for our children and grandchildren) that Early Riser and I share. And the 9th (today) is her birthday. So yesterday I sent her a message as follows: “Happy Anniversary Trekkie! And Happy Super Belated Birthday (just 364 days short of the mark)!” Funny? I like to think so, but my humor can rub some the wrong way, and Early Riser, being prickly and irritable in her own ways even more than both of the Lupugyrs combined, actually seemed to appreciate the sentiment. Even though she’d given me grief in the past about “forgetting” her birthday (I didn’t; neglecting, dismissing, or postponing are all not forgetting, just as forgetting is not remembering — more on this subject in other confessionals, posted elsewhere on this ‘b log). She responded encouragingly to the superficial bonding that I’d expressed, as well as to the intended humor. So SOMETIMES, when I think I’m being kind and funny and sweet, others can think so too. I’ll try to remember that, even as some who had laughed at my schtick in the past later averred that it was “never funny in the first place.“
Among my remaining fears is the concern that the frequently injury-prone no longer enjoy my emergency back-up aid. Not only will I not be able to prevent it in the first place, but after their next inevitable tumble down stairs, mistep on uneven ground, or attention having been diverted to something other than their next step — earning them a twisted ankle, blown knee, broken neck, or any other conceivable physical or psychic injury — I won’t come a’runnin’. I’d like to. For years I imagined that I would. And I would probably still be delighted at the chance (but chastened, too, of course — see “Behind Two Lines”). I embraced what I thought would be my permanent tertiary status (or “juniority”) because I love them that much.
12 September 2023 — Nonverbal Clues
If I had a few more decades to practice, I expect I’d get much better at this. I never was very good, and practice only helps a little, but it does help. And after a few years of exposure, I begin to notice some patterns. Klint and Ojuxit both have their subtle (to me, obvious to normal Earth people) cues, and I would occasionally catch a whiff of their drifting into “Angry Fan” or “Feminazi” defense mode, which, if I were alert to it, would signal me to change the subject or at least to abandon a certain path of inquiry.
I wasn’t so attentive when I was expressing my contempt for Senator Kamala Harris in December of 2019 (a moment or two before I was hit by the Wuhan Flu®). and I could sense Ojuxit bristling. “What’s wrong with her?” she wanted to know. I stupidly started offering reasons founded in Harris’ awful behavior as California’s Attorney General and her even more disgraceful job in the Senate. It didn’t feel to me that Ojuxit was buying it (it’s possible there was more going on, this was post July 2019 after all, and NOTHING ever gets resolved, and I usually remain optimistic) — after all, she has, as Lupugyr Koijjeg (the other one, not the P.W.F.U.L.® show runner) said, “Always been kind of a libber.”
Of course, the fact that Harris IS awful is irrelevant. This relationship was more a marriage than anything else, and I was too stupid (again) to realize that in marriage, as in politics (and this was both!) being right is the worst possible defense.
Seems to me that around the same time I was getting heat for referring to Pot Hole Pete Buttigieg as “Gaybama.”
14 September 2023 — IKYRA
For years I yearned to be your nigga,
Turns out I was just a faulty trigga.
“Teedfygotjafil koz” dazy hymop dejjuv waken, “teer ogu fjeidjodji feep mayep qu dyfant” og’axen sik joycow. “Rjigorrigd” sexy foidoiguck gopdek tju, fydymafji, fyvuddu sex tofavvu wowz ed toguhogh oz, oimgoruo opd pdia wockem jix mymusk wed og’waken six.
17 September 2023 — The committed Seventh attempt:
Klint, I wish for you a very happy birthday, and for many more to come.
Irrespective of our disagreements, I continue to cherish those values we have shared, like a love for fried potatoes, finely hashed and nicely browned, redolent blossoms, professional excellence (saluting “Neon Deion” here on his new coaching career — unless he’s coaching the wrong team, of course), and the wholesome attitude expressed by the enclosed token. I hope you find it pleasing, and that it finds you well. (If there’s another insult in there, I’m not seeing it. And of course, those polysyllables might be problematic again, but removing them might be even worse. It’s long been established that I am the least qualified to weigh in on my own intentions, so maybe I mean something mean. Or maybe I’m condescending again. I don’t think so, but I don’t have to.)
23 September 2023 — “Seven:”
No.
No.
I don’t think I dare. It’s just gonna have to be a lot more oblique and impersonal. Curiosity, metaphor, and poetic license, I think, will accommodate the smoother orbit. Dfewv wik duwap fypejyr efme op, ofgayev sex. Dupyd fypejyr wop tju, dem wu gossey wik. Jikuru ol dikemhyfvow ed goruko dorky juvy op wef dipf dupyd gocex dorky lip dowm ed yolid dyfant fy’dik dyjikah fipyd duk ffokar qi. Muifisgohaf tju, dhu, dprim. Dikky fy’dupyd: Godum! And that, I think, is the best that I can do. For now, I guess, it’s wait. Possibly for the rest of my life? Iqwul Oxidduhk, at least, was explicit when she said “forever.“
30 September 2023 — post Seven:
Still apprehensive, though I can’t stop the “offending” note now, it’s in the hands of the USPS (or in Klint‘s.) Either way, the taint of my admiration (or “looking down [up]on“) now (or soon) stains his view of Neon Deion. I didn’t intend that. I know he admires him, and I do too, for many of the same reasons, but the mere fact that I might agree…
2 October 2023 — “…and Beyond!”
The day in question. It may be too much, but it’s out of my hands.
By the 20th it could be worked into a rich froth.
Best not to jostle it too soon.
A few months may be safe.
Or more.
Like a delicate dish, rushing could be counterproductive.
Peace upon us all.
10 October 2023 — “Happy Birthdays”
I may have gotten away with it. Silence doesn’t always mean indifference. It could be smoldering rage, so nothing is certain. But it was carefully crafted, planned, and stripped completely of any hint of affection or respect. I know that no good deed goes unpunished, and that probably goes farther with my never even funny to begin with efforts. The little love token may also qualify as some sort of express of condescension. The masochist mind knows no limits to righteous pain. And the most creative of disputants will always be able to seize offense, so I can’t rule that out.
If their ultimate goal was misery, anger, and resentment, then maybe congratulations are in order. A life without vigorous younger help may also be a boon, and they’ve got lots more than just me. There’s always Joyguv and Sykson, so that’s a… plus? Well, plus-sized.
Last word until…
31 December 2023?
3 April 2024 — Obviously they remain on my mind. I’ve always been stubborn. They can go on resenting me, and I’ll go on loving them. Let it all be my fault. May they have at least that comfort.
above: Imra Ardeen (aka Saturn Girl®, a creation of Otto Binder and Al Plastino held de jure by DC Comics® and WarnerCom®) gives the world “Mouthface*” as a way of letting us know that we’re probably getting off easier than we deserve.
( * an original epigram by Lupugyr Klint )
