. . . my way of fucking you -- or with you . . .

120822 02:36 beloved adversary

in reply http://culturalbook.com/profiles/blogs/always-wannabe-con-man-at-thirteen-to-his-wizardry?commentId=6443008%3AComment%3A78554&xg_source=msg_com_blogpost
to Wilson B. Sanchez

May I call you "dear," Wilson, my beloved contra self?

Of all the potential directions I awoke with, after a few, yet perhaps too many brief hours of rest. I awoke knowing myself impelled to choose some venue, or issue, to address; and love came first. And as in squat tag: you're IT!

Among the many grief's I've known: my impossible ignorance of language, not merely comprehension of my lingua franca, but apprehension of Spanish -- as spoken here -- referred to as Spanglish. You draw me compellingly into not fight or flight but engagement since I love your mind.

And though I am by nature, penchant and proclivity drawn to sexuality with women I freely confess that there is one man for whom no sexual act I could refuse since I love him nearly to my love for God. I intuit that my family those who serve the dying know since we have no fear of kissing upon meeting or parting nor holding hands while walking and conversing. . . .Love knows no boundaries in God, myself, or as he love to call himself 'Juan Carlos.'

I have vast acquaintanceship with the arts and crafts of erotica. Since in large measure pornography once completed does not remind me to put out the trash for collection afterwards. And beneath that, more compellingly, is -- at along last discovered thanks (specifically to pornography) -- the issue of trust. And all the women of my acquaintance have betrayed me on that specific issue aborting my fragile more feminine vulnerability to betrayal. I recall most if not all that the bride of my youth said in reference to us; "I feel as though I'm walking upon eggs." I will not bore you with details since they are an endless museum of slander unimaginable to herself.

Finally, before penetrating your: "Once more you catch my attention in the beginning, then lead me astray',to finally abandon me in a wood I've been before (that is, one you've left me alone in the past with most of your other posts). Porqua? Thought we were friends?"

http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=porqua

Dearest, we are friends, and it may well be my way of fucking you -- or with you -- to draw you into a conspiracy with yourself. Like sex with another person, relationship is more than giving what they request, it is equally, or more so the giving of one's Self. Not always a "Happy Ending" but an invitation to something more, for me equally sacred, friendship.

Thus if I love, I love with the depth, breadth, height, width and unending endurance of God's love for not merely me but all humanity.

Be well Amigo. Let us join again in jest or joust for I prize the contest. Which for me is win/win.

Perhaps your "darkening wood" is your problem; not mine. For myself: I've walked through the center of hell finding myself in a different version of it passing for the common coin of culture in our time. Beset with terror, manipulated by fear, preached by fools who want only my wealth and/or health. Perchance for me to disappear and no longer question their motives. . . . If you "Trust in God" you must answer to God eventually.

. . . my wish, will, prayer for you is that you find God your friend within and that God's will be expressed to your benefit -- as in mine -- to be fucked over by God is play not punishment.