deepundergroundpoetry.com
Right By the Balls
Going on sixty-four, I've developed a dangerous penchant for change. Captain sparky would quickly point out the fact that probably 97 percent of us at this age have a steady bearing away from the same, and for obvious reasons. Indeed, my most resent plunge into uncharted waters has found me clinging to a frail piece of bark with nearly all of my earthly possessions and financial assets lost at sea. Like a repulsive shot of back-woods corn mash, I love it. My mother was smoking something when I was in the oven.
Her & I discovered that our dreams collided, so I’ve taken my specific skill set and what little financial resources I had left, and we are in the midst of creating a kick-ass little grill and bakery, here in the heart of Thai culture. I quit writing about 7 weeks ago to concentrate on developing a menu, recipes and branding. However, for the last two days I’ve had a nameless uneasiness, with an itch to write. Then, just after beginning my decent this morning into the zone, she sent me two texts...
“Baldy”
“I have to tell something”
At that moment I was watching blackhead removals on YouTube while some placid new-age guitar played pensively, which put me somewhere on another frequency between beta and alpha. The tone of these six words were unlike anything she has said in our eight months together. It arrested me but I kept on watching my video, both processing it and ignoring it. A few minutes later two more texts pop up…
“I miss some guy”
“you will get mad”
Understand, her English is self-taught but I've learned to read it well. So now my frequency is jilted squarely back into beta. My chest starts doing that thing. Instantly, my knee-jerk emotion was, OK another total reset is upon me already. I really thought this one was for keeps. I didn’t feel betrayed or angry over all the money I’ve expended on her behalf, just the halitosis of my old fishing buddy… change. Except for her passenger-seat driving and a disgusting habit of eating chicken bone cartilage, our relationship has been everything a guy could hope for on multiple levels, with no warning signs of this. It didn’t take me long to replay back…
“You want to be with him”
“I’m not mad”
“Are you talking with him?”
“It’s OK”
I waited for a response with my breathing still jacked up, but she delayed so I returned to the black-heads. Life throws us into these moments in an instant, like a car wreck out of left field. We sit there in dazed external silence, but the interior is at once sucked into a shit storm of frenzied and irrational thoughts. In those suspended moments I felt no consternation, only a forgone conclusion that another major course correction was suddenly in my headlights. As I sat there waiting for more details, my imagination walked into the candy shop of future possibilities to see what I could afford this time. This is how skewed I’ve become. In the last ten years I’ve become quite familiar with my way around this place. But where was my sense of affection for her? I do love her because this is what we do, but I’ve never claimed to know what that word meant. Perhaps I should've explained this from the git-go. I don’t know, I have a few sordid virtues and overthinking is definitely one of them.
A digressive bit of back story… I’m in the middle of an online workshop named Manifesting on MindValley.com, the instructor has you dig up some stuff that is buried deeply into your subconscious. Among other pieces of dusty clutter, a ten-year inkling to be a porn star keeps rearing its skanky head. It’s so bizarre of a notion that I’ve been trying to ignore it, but the damn thing hasn’t taken the hint yet. But right then I was just in the mood to indulge it.
Ahah, I thought! This must be the reason for my recent uneasiness. Scanning the scenarios, a handful of them presented themselves, all of them had a specific woman, non-monogamy, and the porn industry in it’s sight. The scariest part of the whole thing is that I felt excited about it, and I’m sure that makes me much less valuable than whoever this guy is, so yeah I get it.
Then, as one waking from a dream, devoid of time and logic, her response bubble pinged across the screen…
“This guy”
(photo attached)
“HAHAHA”
It was a photo of me. Three minutes had passed between our texts. A huge grin wiped across my face. She had me right by the balls for 180 seconds. I’ll own it. I soo don’t deserve her.
Her & I discovered that our dreams collided, so I’ve taken my specific skill set and what little financial resources I had left, and we are in the midst of creating a kick-ass little grill and bakery, here in the heart of Thai culture. I quit writing about 7 weeks ago to concentrate on developing a menu, recipes and branding. However, for the last two days I’ve had a nameless uneasiness, with an itch to write. Then, just after beginning my decent this morning into the zone, she sent me two texts...
“Baldy”
“I have to tell something”
At that moment I was watching blackhead removals on YouTube while some placid new-age guitar played pensively, which put me somewhere on another frequency between beta and alpha. The tone of these six words were unlike anything she has said in our eight months together. It arrested me but I kept on watching my video, both processing it and ignoring it. A few minutes later two more texts pop up…
“I miss some guy”
“you will get mad”
Understand, her English is self-taught but I've learned to read it well. So now my frequency is jilted squarely back into beta. My chest starts doing that thing. Instantly, my knee-jerk emotion was, OK another total reset is upon me already. I really thought this one was for keeps. I didn’t feel betrayed or angry over all the money I’ve expended on her behalf, just the halitosis of my old fishing buddy… change. Except for her passenger-seat driving and a disgusting habit of eating chicken bone cartilage, our relationship has been everything a guy could hope for on multiple levels, with no warning signs of this. It didn’t take me long to replay back…
“You want to be with him”
“I’m not mad”
“Are you talking with him?”
“It’s OK”
I waited for a response with my breathing still jacked up, but she delayed so I returned to the black-heads. Life throws us into these moments in an instant, like a car wreck out of left field. We sit there in dazed external silence, but the interior is at once sucked into a shit storm of frenzied and irrational thoughts. In those suspended moments I felt no consternation, only a forgone conclusion that another major course correction was suddenly in my headlights. As I sat there waiting for more details, my imagination walked into the candy shop of future possibilities to see what I could afford this time. This is how skewed I’ve become. In the last ten years I’ve become quite familiar with my way around this place. But where was my sense of affection for her? I do love her because this is what we do, but I’ve never claimed to know what that word meant. Perhaps I should've explained this from the git-go. I don’t know, I have a few sordid virtues and overthinking is definitely one of them.
A digressive bit of back story… I’m in the middle of an online workshop named Manifesting on MindValley.com, the instructor has you dig up some stuff that is buried deeply into your subconscious. Among other pieces of dusty clutter, a ten-year inkling to be a porn star keeps rearing its skanky head. It’s so bizarre of a notion that I’ve been trying to ignore it, but the damn thing hasn’t taken the hint yet. But right then I was just in the mood to indulge it.
Ahah, I thought! This must be the reason for my recent uneasiness. Scanning the scenarios, a handful of them presented themselves, all of them had a specific woman, non-monogamy, and the porn industry in it’s sight. The scariest part of the whole thing is that I felt excited about it, and I’m sure that makes me much less valuable than whoever this guy is, so yeah I get it.
Then, as one waking from a dream, devoid of time and logic, her response bubble pinged across the screen…
“This guy”
(photo attached)
“HAHAHA”
It was a photo of me. Three minutes had passed between our texts. A huge grin wiped across my face. She had me right by the balls for 180 seconds. I’ll own it. I soo don’t deserve her.
Published 23rd Jan 2025
Author's Note
Once again, serendipity handed me a fine opportunity to belly up to this morning’s keyboard.
A big shout out goes to the vigilant presence of the creative process.
A big shout out goes to the vigilant presence of the creative process.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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