So this fairly recent post by MonkeyPants caught my attention and I feel compelled to offer up a retort. MP -- while the guy you were IMing with clearly fits a very sad profile, I don't think it is fair to lump him into generalizations about most men that date younger women. If we are going to talk in generalities, I see a different side to this. In my experience, I have seen the younger woman as the far more active-pursuant of the older-man than vice versa. Daddy issues aside, most of the women I have met in my lifetime have always seemed to prefer being with someone older. This indirectly coerces the man into choosing a younger woman - partly because a woman in the same age-range is just not as interested most of the time. Also, the men I know that have gone for much younger women would just rather not deal with the increasing irrationality of a woman who has 'been through the rounds' and has a growing 'list' of preferences, amongst other issues. It has far less to do with physical appearance than you think. While I understand the twice-age discrepencies frustrate older women into thinking they are less desirable, I believe they should really focus on the source of this discontent, and make themselves more available (short of whoring-themselves, of course). Generally speaking, men tend to go for relationships that require far-less work. A female friend of mine that I read the blog with noted: "She's generalizing though... and personally, reading this blog, she sounds jealous. She gives the young woman no credit for having a brain. She is in fact insulting her own gender." . Valid point, because there are quite a few 20somethings that would outclass some of the angry 30-40somethings I have heard kvetch over what is beginning to sound like a very tired topic.

So with that said, I want to try something out. What if I offered this nonsense up in a similar fashion --

Ladies, just so you know, you look silly as well. We know YOU are the true commitment-phobes and quite possibly choose the older guy because you know he hasn't the time for your sophisticated games and manipulations anyway. You love the challenge. And you love complaining when you are released into the free-agent pool in favor of the chirpy 20-something. You've also bought into the phony culture of men being refined when sprouting grays.

I bet that would feel like crap too and I would instantly be accused for abasing women (along with being labled a misogynist, among other things). My suggestion to those aforementioned ladies is to quit the whining and show the same-aged-man what you've got. Make yourselves available rather than huddling with your aging posse in the corner to generalize. I am sure anyone who is looking for a half-way interesting conversation or, ('gasp', dare I say) relationship would agree with me.

Postscript: No offense, MP, I am a fan of your quips and I am not out to cold-diss you or anything. Just thought I'd share thoughts in hopes of instigating a decent debate about it.

During this past glorious (rare) weekend, I took myself to Central Park armed with some new submissions sent into Purpleprose during the week. Amidst wielding my deft editorial prowess, I inadvertently marked up my khaki shorts in the crotch area, of all places. I quickly pulled a napkin out and headed for the nearest water fountain. After wetting said napkin, and attempting to extract the impossible-to-remove ink from my shorts, I came to a sad realization. There is NO discreet way of wiping the crotch area of the pants in a public area (like Central Park) without looking like a complete pervert. Nice job, Rich.

from the forthcoming series - "return of the muse"

she breathes

she breathes in the balmy island air
but the wave of hurt has yet to recede
she shivers despite the sticky humidity
sweat simmers the pores of her humility
and her hand reaches to the sea, for relief
she knows it is close
she knows she must rise

she breathes beside me
in unison, we pause with baited anticipation
of discovering new moments, a new air
of uncertainty that wills itself tall
we willingly choose to break the fall

she breathes
and I breathe with her

from the forthcoming series - "fault line"

unstable grounds

wonder
why must we build the home
over unstable grounds
endangering the future, the family
with unfamilar shifts and sounds
convulsing beneath our feet
and the pavement, it pounds
the very essence of familial crust

in retrospect, they will say
we asked for it.

yes, wonder
why we tried the rounds
over unstable grounds

i am saddened to hear that joseph vincuillo (aka joey valentine), the man who gave me my most recent tattoo a little over three weeks ago was killed in an automobile accident a few days ago.  he was only 20 but from the brief moments we shared i learned that he was a very insightful and engaging person to speak with.  we shared similar interests with tibeten culture and now his work is forever etched on me.  j.v., enjoy the bliss of eternity, brother.  you will be missed down here.  

ack!  the filthy one has hit a wall.  a wall called "the weekend."  after an evening with borat, a fun post-wedding reception, and the usual slew of errands, my nanowrimo pace screeched to a slug-like slither.  i am averaging approximately 800 words now and at this pace, I am barely going to hit the half-way mark by the end of the month.  i have to make sure not to let the weekends kill my momentum.  the only obstacle i can forsee at this point is turkey day.  note to self: write early that day (and don't even presume you can try in the evening).

word count: 3197 (day 5 of 30)

day two come and gone and despite falling under pace again, there was significant improvement.  thought i'd reveal (as some might know already) that i am writing religious satire.  plenty of material to lampoon, though it is quite an undertaking.  i am still battling the urge to show more, but my own insecurities about unpolished pieces thwarts it entirely. props to nazzy for showing some honest enthusiasm over IM about the project.  it helps knowing that i am not a complete fraud in the trade of the scribe.

word count : 2267 (day 2 of 30)

the first night of the nanowrimo journey (last night) sloppily stumbled out of the gate.  in order to work at a reasonable pace and not fall signifcantly behind, i must knock out approximately 1700 words per day.  i barely managed half of that - succumbing to self-doubt and too much reasoning during the process.  must learn to ignore these feelings/thoughts to better tackle this daunting task.  it didn't help that one of my favorite characters in lost got the shaft last night as well.  night two, you will be my bitch tonight!

word count : 821 (day 1 of 30)

day one of nanowrimo has arrived and i am about to embark on a fifty-thousand word journey to the depths of my decrepit imagination. i need all the support i can get and i will try and post word-count updates to this blog as well as mood/progress reports. i may post snippets of my work if i am feeling masochistic. i am commemorating this epic journey with the purchase of a spankin' new macbook pro which takes the place of my old faithful powerCrook that was sold last night (via ebay) and shipped this morning (congrats to Heidi Kulsavage who assumes ownership of my ol' workhorse). so with this shiny-new steed, i'm off to the races. so i beg of all those who care to read my blogs to break out your pom-poms and silly uniforms with a big K across your chest and cheer (and jeer) the filthy one on!

The New York Mets are the bane of my existence.  I cannot stress this any more clearly and I wonder why even bother blogging about it.  At this point, I honestly believe that had I not grown up as a fan of this franchise, that I might have had a better life.  I have stood behind this team for the past 24 years (basically since I was 8 years old) - before David Wright and Jose Reyes were even born.  Yes, we had a championship in '86, but even that came under heavy duress and was invariably labled a "miracle."  While there are many positives I can gleam from the 2006 season, I can say with great certainty that it took years off of my life.  How's that for a New York MESS?