Sunday, September 19, 2010

Everyone's Idea of Love

Love Bond..
Originally uploaded by indori_vj
Everyone's Idea of Love

I don't think everyone's idea of love is identical. In fact, because of the blinding nature of love, I don’t think most couples even know how close each other’s ideas of love really are, even older couples. I know June W.’s and mine sure as hell were not the same.

For those new to this blog, June W. is my ex-wife. Keep up.

I’m pretty sure that June never really fell completely in love with any man; not her first husbinder, and definitely not with me. “Husbinder,” that was her term for them. I’m sure she’s never felt deep love; and never will.

You see, she’s never had someone leave her for another. That means that she’s historically always been the cheater; the manipulator. In fact, I think that is how June sees all her relationships: She’s the queen manipulator.

Because of my very first blog entry, on December 15th, 2005,, she has never forgiven me for being the first, and last, man to cheat on her; and I didn’t.

Back in September of 2005, the day I was released from jail for my DUI, I visited Kelly M. I consoled her on her loss of her last boyfriend, and knew her, Biblically. She drank wine, while I vowed to stay sober. I knew, even then, that alcohol was the root of my problems. I asked her if I could stay with her until I found a job.

She’d always been attracted to me. Kelly is extremely hot looking. She’s got breeder looks: 36DD breasts, wide hips, and a shapely body. She used to be
over-weight, but she’d started working out in anticipation of a new husband…any new husband. But, she’s definitely an air-head. She doesn’t follow politics, doesn’t have a passion for anything, and doesn’t seek out knowledge, for knowledge’s sake. I believe that her only real passion is having children; which, not to segway, is the reason she’s on June’s ten-most-easily-manipulated list.

But, see, I never cheated on June. Our divorce was final before I was ever released from jail in the fall of 2005. June has always had it in her head that Kelly and I had an affair while we were married. There was this one evening when June had left on a business trip for a week. I had told her that I was going to have Kelly over for a movie one night. Kelly and I had always had urges for each other, but never acted on them, not while I was married. But, we almost did that night. Kelly was acting a little weird after that night, and I’m sure June noticed, but it wasn’t because something happened. It’s most likely because Kelly wanted something to happen.

The night that Kelly and I slept together, the day I was released from jail, was the only time we’d had carnal relations. That was definitely a strange day to remember. She started drinking wine. She asked if I wanted to indulge, but I declined. I figured, booze got me here: I don’t need to drink any more

Then she became melancholy, talking about how her last boyfriend left her. I don’t remember his name, but for all intents and purposes, let’s just call him Tom. It was bad. Tom was teasing her about going back with his ex. She gave me the horrible details, which eventually ended with him going back to his ex; which she then left him for another younger guy. A story would cause tears in the eyes of the writers of “Days of Our Lives”.

Kelly then described, in detail, how she planned to attract Tom back into her life. Seduce him into believing she was deeply in love with him. Then, “drop him like a rock!” I was shocked when she said that, because I was totally buying the entire sincerity spiel. After she’d said that, she’d just finished one bottle of wine. She hesitated, only for a moment, before deciding to open a new bottle.

She kept crying and crying. I kept hugging her to console her. She gave great hugs. Breeders are always great huggers. Then she eventually looked up at me with those mascara-bled eyes and said, “Do you wanna fuck?”

I could not have imagined a more romantic query from such a beautiful woman. What didn’t happen was that my jaw didn’t drop (it was the Devil in me). I immediately got a hard-on and said, “Yes”. I guess it doesn’t take much to seduce me. Pathetic.

The odd thing about this entire encounter was that she insisted on have sex in her daughter’s room. She claimed that her bedroom was a mess – which if it was anything like the kitchen, was totally believable – but there still was that nagging idea in the back of my head. Her youngest daughter had confessed to me soda voce that her brother sleeps in the same bed as her mother. So, there was definitely something in there that she didn’t want me to see. I queered that we should do it in her daughter’s bedroom. “What if she came home?”, I asked. She convinced me that she was at a sleep-over. Still, fucking the MILF surrounded by pink stuffed animals was, to say the least, a little kinky.

But, the oddest part – and here’s the control part – was that half-way through the missionary position, she asks, “Are you cut?”

I’m totally ready to cum at this point, and then my mind asks, ‘What does she mean by cut?’ This is where my mind flashes back to that scene from “Animal House”. You know, where the guy gets the under-aged girl drunk, and into bed. After the first kiss, she passes out, totally nude. Now he’s contemplating doing her passed out. Just then, the Devil pops up on one shoulder, trying to convince him to take advantage of her. Then an Angel (which, coincidentally is her youngest daughter’s name) tries to convince him not to. I don’t need to explain the scenario; you can watch the movie…it’s funny. Eventually, the Angel wins and the Devil calls him a ‘homo’. But, I’m thinking the same thing. Two parts of my brain are working at the same time (they do that, ya know), the Devil and the Angel. The Angel is telling me, ‘Of course I haven’t had a vasectomy; June can’t conceive.’ The Devil is saying, ‘Circumcision? Of course I’ve been cut.’ But, the bottom line question was, ‘Why hasn’t Kelly, after three grown kids and being in her forties, hasn’t had her tubes tied?’

I didn’t think of the other alternative, like maybe having a child of my own wouldn’t be so bad. Or that I could simply cum to fight another day…with a condom. In the end, I told her, “You know that June has had a hysterectomy. I have no need to get cut.” I pulled out and we did things manually…I crying shame.

This whole scene was summed up in the song by Mountain, “Mississippi Queen”…if you know what I mean. Every time I hear that song, I am reminded of that night with Kelly M.

The facts of the matter are that:
June had never been cheated on,
We met by her cheating on her husband,
Me by cheating on my girlfriend, June’s sister-in-law, and,
That no matter what I told her, she will always feel that sleeping with Kelly – post-divorce – was cheating on her.

I’ve examined all of June’s relationships; family, friends, lovers: past and yours-truly. It has always been a matter of convenience and manipulation. June is the alpha-dog in every relationship. If she can’t find a way to be the alpha, she’ll make it so, or cut it off; blow it off, so to speak. June is the kind of person that has to be right, 98.2% of the time. She’s not the kind of person that likes to learn from her own mistakes.

As far as true love is concerned, I think she experienced it with me at some point in our marriage (I believe in our first year). But she now believes that at that point in time it was a farce. I fell in love with her because she showed me something that I longed for: family. My closest brother felt that need too. During that first year, and the year before we were married, family was important.

And it was good. Christmas, Thanksgiving, Halloween, Easter, I’d made sure that we celebrated them fully. I even pushed for the Renaissance fair: Over weight girls in push-up bras gleaming attraction from warriors. She was a definite shoe-in. June didn’t dig that scene. She wasn’t into role playing.

See, June didn’t marry me for love. She married me for health insurance. We were already living comfortably for three years together before we married. I had always been employed (up to that point). She felt it was her time to stop making money and experiment with (several) other self-employed experiments. Most of these experiments did not yield profit. But, being the manipulator, she held the purse-strings. I never really knew where the money was going. I knew she had a lot of debt: student loans, second mortgage, credit cards, etc. I came into the marriage now with debt, when before I had none. Attempt at discovery was always diverted to other things. I was the money-maker and had to describe in detail why I had to buy the computer upgrade that I needed. I’m a computer programmer. The computer that I eventually bought is the one I’m still using to document this post; that’s how old it is. For June, money is, and always will be, king. I got fucked in the divorce. That happens when you’re drunk constantly.

June married me for health insurance. She has always had a hard time working for a company and found in me, a Software Engineer, a stable husbinder that could provide the health insurance that she so desperately needed in order for her to pursue her dream of self-employment. Not necessarily paying down her debt, but one that supports her desires. What does she do today? She sells health insurance.

And, she’s into sex. We first met because of sex. I mean, we cheated on each other’s significant others (we couldn’t admit how we met in our wedding video) and on our relatives. That probably went by too fast for you to catch. We met through relatives. My girlfriend’s brother and wife visited one week. His wife is June. June and I hooked up. So, I slept with my girlfriend’s sister-in-law.

You know that time, in every relationship, where it’s asked: How many lovers have you had?

I was up to 14 and counting (having a hard time) when she stopped me. I was sure I was drying up on the last few counts (I was digging). I could name every one, because we had relationships. She bowed her head and said, “It’s more than 100.” Then she paused, “Do you still love me?” It was at that point that I had realized that she hadn’t really had a decent relationship with any of them. She’d never deeply loved any man. I wanted to be that man.

Okay, June is not the most attractive woman, physically. She can’t get small. She can’t loose her weight any more. She used to be able to when we first met, but not any more. She doesn’t have a striking face. She’s cute, and adorable, but not drop-dead gorgeous.

My first wife, Vennessa W., was hot. But, she didn’t even know it. Vennessa would wear anything I’d ask her to. She was my dress up doll, and everything worked on her. She had a tight little body and loved to show it off. We’d go out shopping so I could see her in so many other things. She liked to dress up, and I like to dress her up. The one thing about Vennessa was that if she thought I thought she looked sexy in it, she wanted to wear it. It’s that third level of awareness.

Vennessa had the kind of body, even for a woman ten years my senior, that everyone wanted to see, and she knew it. She was a voyeur. So, shopping for her was a joy, for both her and me. It actually didn’t matter what I bought for her. (Well, actually, I could say that it didn’t work for her and she’d believe it). She had the kind of body and face that anything would look good on. Different, but good…and difference was good.

Vennessa didn’t mind wearing chokers. June thought they were for dogs. June preferred pearls. I bought Vennessa lingerie, and she was happy. June was happy when I bought her a ring, before we were married.

This was a special ring. It was our promisary ring. We weren’t ready to get married just yet. But, I wanted to express my love for June, without any connection to marriage. So, I took her to a jeweler and chose a ring that I thought was the most beautiful of all rings. I chose it in front of her. I wanted to buy it to show her how beautiful I thought she was.

It had a blue sapphire in the middle surrounded by diamonds. This ring meant a replacement of the rings that we had exchanged in Las Vegas; one wonderful cheating event. Her finger never looked more beautiful (well, entire hand, really). It is an awesome looking ring and she wears it to this day more often than any other ring, even after the divorce. I don’t think she ever wears the diamond I bought her for our wedding any more. I think she thinks that because it was pre-wedding, that it has nothing to do with the love that was meant to be conveyed by the ring. June can easily separate the two.

As my drinking became more of a problem, her faking it became more noticeable. She started to complain about her relationships with everyone from close friends to close family members, ones we used to vacation with. She started even bitching about her cats, who I know she loved.

Then she stopped confiding in me. I was the problem now. Well, of course, by that time I was unemployed.

So, her eventual solution was a Wisconsin one: Build a bar, just like her brothers had.

My current idea of love is not too far off from what it was when I first fell in love. Okay, so I fall in love with women that have alterative motives. But, I’ve seen most of them. And they get old after time and become easily spotted.

I’m not fast on the uptake when it comes to relationships. It doesn’t mean that I’m socially stupid. I don’t know what it means. But, it means that when I get to know some one, I spend a little time with them.

Everything is relative. Everyone’s idea of love is relative to everyone else’s idea of love. In order to objectively describe anyone’s (much less everyone’s) idea of love, you must understand that it explodes! Some of my personal examples may explain how love can be exploited, desired, and even needed (heaven forbid).

People talk about levels of love…mostly women. But, in this case, June thinks like a man.

To this day, June W. keeps my same last name and has never considered ever marrying ever again. It’s not out of respect or loyalty. It’s because she’d tired of moving on. She’s more comfortable being honest about being a slut.

-- Without Wax

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Politically Naïve

I just watched "The Ghost Writer" for a second time, and it took me that second time to realize, what everyone else in the entire rational world knew, that Tony Blair was an American puppet.

I feel that I am one that follows politics fairly closely. I mean, I’m not a guru by any sense, but I am informed. I research candidates before I vote (more than I can say for some). I know where they stand and I know how it affects me.

I also understand what’s happening in this world. When the planes flew into the towers on 9/11, it did take me the second plane to connect it immediately to Osama bin Laden. But, because I’d been reading books on terrorism, Jihad, Islam, and so forth, I knew this was an al-Qaeda attack. And I knew, at that time, that Osama bin Laden was the leader of al-Qaeda.

When the 9/11 attacks occurred, I was just a few weeks away from accepting a very good job. Being depressed about the economy and my job status (I was a couple weeks short of ending my unemployment), I had many things to be worried about.

June W. and I slept in a lot those days. She was unemployed as well. We were living off my unemployment.

That day, we were laying in bed – not getting coffee – just lagging…trying to wake up. We normally get up at 7:00am CST, but we slept in. At :46 minutes past the hour, all hell broke loose.

We were watching our favorite morning show, “The Today Show”, with Katie Couric and Matt Lower, when all of the sudden they announce that a plane went into the North tower of the World Trade Center.

We knew then that many lives would be lost. We didn’t need coffee at that point. We both bolted up in our bed. We both felt, at that point, that it was merely an accident; a terrible one at that, but just an accident.

Of course, the current Today Show was interrupted. But, they were trying to get a camera on the building. I mean, they were just downtown, yards from the collision. And they assumed the best: meaning that Katie and Matt assumed it was a stray jet liner off course…just like we did.

Seventeen minutes later, the second jet hit the South tower. It was announced, not seen. But, I knew then what was going on.

June remembers me whispering too her in bed, “Osama bin Laden”. I covered my mouth, perched my lips, and started to cry. Because I knew that this was payback…and this was the start of it.

All of the sudden, I knew what was going on. We had suicide terrorists attacking the World Trade Center again, as they did in 1993. They were attacking America’s greatest city, New York. And they were willing to give their lives to do so. June didn’t understand that first part, not immediately. When she finally did, she couldn’t stop puking.

I just remember, after the second plane, calling up my neighbors and saying, “Turn on you TV!” “Which channel?”, they’d ask. With a choke in my throat answered, “any channel”…and hung up.

June and I were glued to the set for the next hours of horror as the Pentagon was attacked and the flight 93 passengers heroically brought down their plane in a Pennsylvania field (God bless their souls).

Then the towers did something that no one every thought would happen. They collapsed with thousands of souls crumbling with them. I didn’t believe it could happen. I didn’t want to believe it. I was naive. I guess because I wasn’t alone on that day that in thinking so, that, I don’t know: there must be a hole in humanity. To let thousands of innocent human lives just perish. I mean, we are definitely not talking about worriers. We are talking about regular people that go to work every day.

And we’re not talking about a nation that has declared unconditional war by an un-provoked attack, like on Peril Harbor. The nuclear bombings on Hiroshima and Nagasaki were a justified retaliatory attack. If they’d gone on indefinitely, then maybe they would be viewed more as revenge than retaliatory. But, if the attacks against our Navy fleets in the Pacific had continued, more American lives would have been sacrified. We had the bomb and we knew we had to use it. We figured out a way to fight back; a hard punch, so to speak. There should be no martyrism in the fact that we bombed the hell out of the people that unprovokley brought the US into the WWII era.

The whole world for me felt in flux. FAA travel was suspended. People in Hawaii were asking how they can get supplies? UPS’s answer: We’ll deliver buy ground. Hawaii’s like: “Really, you’re going to build a bridge?”

On 9/12, my perspective employer said that they had been attacked by a virus and that my employment would be delayed by a few weeks. Those few weeks were butting up against my last few days of unemployment insurance we’d had left. It ended up being that the timing was just about right. But, this only added to the explosive stress of that time.

You have no job. Planes aren’t flying. Possibly more attacks. All this time, I’m remembering the 1998 movie, “The Siege”. That movie was a Prophecy of what was to come. Even with stars like, Denzel Washington, Bruce Willis, and Annette Bening; it was a flop at the box-office. It lost money.

But, here’s the Hollywood paranoia effect: There were many terrorist movies in queue at the time of the 9/11 attacks. They all got pulled, for fear of, whatever: a reactionary response, I guess.

However, sales of video rentals and purchases of “The Siege” shot up days after the attacks. Personally, I think this was a good, healthy thing. “The Siege” is a very open minded depiction of what could really happen to a great city, like New York, when militaristic systems are put into place in an urban area.

Here’s the thing: I believe there’s something fucking up in Islamic culture. Like they lost some ground that we – Americans new to the stage – gained. I believe that we took the higher ground – in so many ways – that it perplexes Islamic culture. And we did it so fast.

Women should have the right to vote. Oh, duh, we didn’t think so 100 years ago. Yah, blacks…they should be in the back of the bus. Now we have a black president. Go figure. Allowing free speech; now there’s a concept…one that will get you ejected from power. Human rights have never been achieved fast than in the United States of America. We may not be the model, but we are the example.

I think that Nelson Mandela had conveyed the transition from a state that is biased to a state that can possibly be homogenous was possibly the most humane thing that has ever happened on this Earth. Watching “Invictus”, I understood how he could’ve (and I say ‘could’ve’ because this is a fictional re-enactment) accomplished that enormous task.

So, I think that I’m well trained in global politics. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have gleamed the Osama bin Laden connection seconds after the second WTC attack. But then, compared to June, when I talked about tank attacks in the Gaza Strip, she was like, “Palestinian tanks?”.

My sad answer was, “Palestinians don’t have tanks.” She didn’t respond how I’d hope she’d respond. She just said, “Oh.” There’s a conflict you don’t want to get me started on.

What I loved about June W. was that she cared about these things…she just didn’t want to know about them…I mean she puked on 9/11. But, she doesn’t even try to search out this knowledge. She’s Midwestern. She’s an Isolationist. She thinks that by buying an Acer laptop, that’s made in America, that she’s buying American. Naive to the fact that 99.7% of all components in an Acer laptop are actually manufactured overseas. Okay, she’s not blonde, just Midwestern.

But, however how I don’t support total USA gung-ho attitude, I also don’t support the fact that there are still nations in this global economy that don’t support basic human rights. If we’re going to be global (and technology has really forced us to), then we have to agree on some basic human rights. In that sentence, that means there are a lot of rights that need to be righted.

Short list:
Females need the right to go to school.
People should have the right to speak their mind without incrimination.
…I’m sorry…I’m blowing it.

I’m not a leader. I just know basic human values. I mean, I can’t make an all-end, all-be, list of human rights. That’s why I live under a constitution. But, that constitution is the best (I believe) in the World.

There really isn’t any higher human constitution. No one has written one yet. Humans are complex. We are the highest order of animal on the planet of Earth; which is as far as we know. It doesn’t mean that we should take advantage of that fact. It means we should take responsibly for that fact (which we’ve really been lagging, lately).

Number One: We need to respect others that look and act different.
Number Two: We need to respect and understand how wild animals have an affect on our World.
Number Three: Accept the fact that we may be able to terribly affect the underlining nature of the food chain.
Number Four: Just be nice to nature. I know that may be hard for some of you corporate types, but think about it…1,2, and 3.

And remember, we humans are the only animals on this wonderful planet Earth that have the Devil inside us. We have the burden of choice. We can and should make the best choice. It’s time to make the best choice…because we’ve made the wrong choice for too many years. We will eventually pay the price, if we don’t.

I just didn’t think that a nation that has ruled the world before, such as England, would have a leader that was a puppet to any nation, especially not the USA. That’s backwards. I’ve spoken to English clients. They all insist – on The Fourth of July – that we’re not celebrating our independence, but that we’re still their colony; in a humors sense; like we’re children leaving the nest.

I guess, from anyone else’s perspective, that America is the puppet master. Well, at least from Roman Polanski’s
-- Without Wax

Sunday, September 12, 2010

Father's WWII Experience

Without Wax Inception is all about dreaming.
And sometimes, in order to understand it, you need to walk away from it.
,,,for a bit…

Anger clouds things…as it should.

Example: My Father died at an early age for me; I was 15. My mother abused us a lot while my father was away working over seas. We'd cry for him to return, and when he finally did, we showered him with praise and never told him of the atrocities that my mother had performed. She'd stopped doing them when he arrived.
It was like we were a whole family again.
When he died, she stopped the con. She never abused us after that.
After that point, I had dreams that he'd come home; and they were deep sleep dreams. When I woke up, I believed that he was there for several hours. In those hours of deception, I have to admit that I enjoyed them. We did things, in that dream state, that I know he wanted to do with me before he died.
When the sobriety of reality slowly set in, I realized that those dream states of my Father were wonderful and a gift. Robert was a great man, and everyone knew and acknowledged it. His death was untimely. He wasn't Ward Cleaver by any stretch, but he was someone I always looked up to.
He taught me math, knife sharpening, car repair, astrology, more math, chemical engineering, poker, plumbing, electrical systems, stereo systems, what not to do to a young lady, how to build an underwater camera housing from scratch, one that doesn't leak at depths (shuttle designers could take a clue from his O-ring design), how to take care of a very drunk sister, how NOT to rewire the house (he didn't like that much when I did that), politics, war, peace.
Robert fought in WWII at 16; he was a sailor. That's where he met my mother, a nurse. They were married and dedicated to each other for more that 30 years before he died. As far as I know, neither has ever been with anyone else their entire lives.
He was an engineer 2nd class in the Navy in WWII. He re-enlisted for the Korean war. He hold sever medals.
Despite his fight against Asians in both wars, he worked with them side-by-side as an oil refinery engineer over seas, and was very fond of their company. Even so, as to bring back many Asian pieced of artwork, some of which we couldn't quite understand (a wood carving of and old man caring a pig on his shoulders?)
But the two greatest things that he ever taught me were:
1. How to look up an answer. I was always asking him stupid questions like: why is the sky blue? Is the Sun a star? (Oh, that got me in trouble with my 1st grade teacher when I told her that the Sun WAS a star. I had to sit in the corner.) He would answer as best he could, but then lead me to the encyclopedias. He taught me how to FIND answers at a very young age.
2. How to be tolerant. I didn't even know, at that young age, that he was teaching me that. I'd always asked him about the war, especially WWII and against the Japs! In a round about way, the softened the subject, then took me to my first Japanese restaurant, where the taught me how to hold, and actually use, chop stick. And I'm not talking about those cheap bamboo Chinese chopsticks; I'm talking pointy, artistic, sharp Japanese chopsticks.
I remember the very polite Japanese waitress in bright red dress taking the time to help me learn how to hold shrimp tempura with just chopsticks; the thumb, index, middle fingers..."too much pressure", "relax, reset the chops". She and him tried over and over again, until I finally got it. All the time, I'm thinking, 'each wants to kill each other', you know, because they fought in the war. But, no; it was tolerance. It was one young Japanese girl trying to teach the next generation (me) their culture from the Father of a man that fought in a war against her ancestors. It was her way of being tolerant, too.
And the meal was awesome.

Wednesday, September 08, 2010

Deja Vu

Why was it that I needed to log out, view this movie -- find this movie in my database -- and log about it.

I found a woman dead, just like her. She was pretty, just like her. Only she was hanged. But she had a pretty face, just like the movie.

That's where things change. She committed suicide. Our victim hanged herself.

It was one of my first, non-accident, victims. I had to write it up. That means that I had to find out the underlining cause of death. I had to run down the doctor and have him sign a "cause of death". That's difficult. The family got involved. It took days. The fact was that she was involved with drugs and wanted to die. The Dr. knew it, but, because of legal reasons, it was difficult to write out the death certificate. Doctors don't usually like to sign off on those type of things.

But, she was beautiful...or was. I'm sure she was, before her neck got stretched out. When a person hangs themselves for a long period of time, their collar bones tend to push through. Well, it makes them look...less human.

But, her face still was beautiful. Like the girl in Deja Vu. She was still...well, me. And that was the most difficult part. I picked her up from the sheriff's department and brought her back to the morgue.

I closed her eyes.

Then, the mortician asked all the young guys to leave the room. That was weird. She was naked, but dead. That was the only time I've ever been told to leave a naked body.

It made me feel weird that the mortician said that, but I obliged. But, I knew...I knew him. He has a very strong respect for the dead. And this woman, although her choice of death was not one he respected, needed the respect of the dead, even more so.

He put her to rest.

Seeing a beautiful woman like that take her own life makes me think...I can't come to any conclusions.

I'm sorry, I just can't.

Why I searched out Deja Vu in my archives, I don't know. There has to be some connection...I'm not sure what?

-- Without Wax

A rest on the road

And old database engineer. How can someone like him, or me, find a job, in these times. I don't know how to do it. I don't know how to sell myself.

Actually, I've never really been good at selling myself.
I love photography. And I love this photo.

I love computers. I've always done self-study. I've always been bad at trusting teachers; I've always questioned them...I wish I hadn't.

I wish I had John R. Clark as my constant teacher. He was so smart and knew everything about everything, and if the didn't, he'd just know he didn't, and know who to ask about it. He was from Harvard.

All my friends in college looked up to him. If he didn't know an answer, there was a reason...and a person you could ask about it.

I mean, he knew everything...everything! He knew that our computers, our mainframes, would be replace by PC; so be bought the latest compatible, the Compac.

I did the same, but a cheaper one, The Leading Edge. Well, I couldn't afford much else. He knew that.

He helped me get some jobs at the college.

After my dad died, I thought of him as a father...a distant one though.

He took me in.

He taught me, first, Pascal, the first programming language that was structured. Then Prolog, the first of these artificial intelligence language...that was cool.

Then he taught me APL! APL is the language of symbols. He taught me that thinking in symbols is the way that humans think.

APL is simple. Once you think in symbols, everything else is a problems of space, memory space, I guess.

I mean APL is the best programming language ever. Everything is ether a number (a scalar), or an array.

If it's an array, than it must be an array of some dimension.
...and so forth.
So, in APL, there are no limits on dimensions.

You can play with dimensions as deep as your computer's limits provide.

...and then solve the problem.

But, that's the whole thing. You're problem isn't working within any computer's's working withing the problem's limits.

That's why APL is the ultimate problem solving language.
...and that's why John R. Clark wanted me to work on it.

-- Without Wax

Friday, September 03, 2010


Originally uploaded by Kingdafy
I just informed the CIA of a link to al-Quida, I think.
The way this guy talked about it, I knew. He knew about bombs. And he talked about it to his "followers". I mean, he really talked about it.

So, I let the CIA know about it.

But, I really don't think that it will stop any more bombings.

This photo is of the largest ICBM the US has ever built.
It has MIRV capillaries. That means, that when it launches, eight more little devices will find their own targets. It's like spreading WWIII all over the globe.

I can't say any more.

-- Without Wax

Thursday, September 02, 2010

Chapter 0(zero): June W.

first love
Originally uploaded by julia magdalena

This is the story of how June W. fell in love with Without Wax, how it built, and how it fell apart. The reason being that getting this all off my chest will allow me to move on.

June W. was a beautiful woman, if not large, when I first met her. I didn’t notice her much after that. Except, when I went to drive her to the airport with her husband. I’d mentioned (not thinking at the time) that I’d never seen my car not be able to accelerate as fast before. It got a chuckle. But, in reality, I’d never had heavier people in my car, all at the same time…including myself.

Let me back track. There are two things going on at this time. I’m trying to loose weight, as is June. Jacqueline O. was my girlfriend at the time, and was gaining weight. This is her MO, (modus operandi). She looses weight, finds a mate, finds a guy, then digs in; in other words, gets fat.

June W. was Jacqueline O.’s sister-in-law. Married just two years, she fell in love with Wax. She did when visiting her husband’s brother in California, me. Why she fell out of love with her current husband, I will never know (for sure)…but she did.

June W. fell out of love with Robert C., the man she’d been married to for only two years. I believe it was at a pivotal point when Jacky and I were making out in the hot tub. It got very passionate. Many family members had seen it. Reactions differed.

June said it! She said, later on, that [she’d], “never seen a more passionate expression of love.”

Robert C.: “I’ve never seen a vulgar display of sex!”

Robert had told the entire family of the incident. He embarrassed his own sister. It’s almost like he embarrassed her into marrying me to his own sister…seriously.

Sidebar: Robert had no clue what it took to seduce a woman. And the fact that he didn’t, pissed off his own wife, June. The fact that she knew it, pissed her off…and the divorce ensued.

Because of that incident, Robert eventually embarrassed Jacky into being somewhat of a prude. He told the entire family. She changed after that. It was like she’d felt like having sex was like prostituting herself. Robert had changed our relationship. Jacky now felt like she was being used.

It was because of Robert’s exclamation that a man shouldn’t display such passion of a woman that June fell in love with me. She saw the wrong and wanted to right it…and got some nooky on the side. She started, for the first time in her life, to hold hands (holding hands in public, she was not right, it was wrong).
It was on that day, in the hot tub, with Jacky and Robert’s statement, that June fell in love with me. On that day, she had decided that she’d have me, one way or another.

She'd fallen in love with him.

Without Wax