POETRY: THE ANTICIPATING SOUND OF SURRENDER

On the oceans of a lover's
       dream
I left you there . . .
Among Springtime's
      yearnings
          of another year --
Apart . . . but
I wept for your touch
         my love . . .

On the oceans of a lover's
       dream
We parted
    in stormy sullenness --
       Again
That destiny should have
  planned this fate
To see the
   angry oceans sweep
        away our footsteps
           
On the oceans of a lover's
       dream
Our different lives
    taking us away
Yet our paths crossed --
   Again, entwined
And from the beginning
          we knew --
Our lives were meant
              to be --
   Together


On the oceans of a lover's
       dream
Different worlds,
         different ways
Yet the difference --
      no meaning
For all the oceans
    and all our loneliness
Could not kill our love
Forever we are as one


On the oceans of a lover's
       dream
The difference is our
    destiny
And no oceans can
      drown us
Our love lives on
In the whispering
  kisses of the
    endless waves
Through all eternity
In the echoes . . .
   of a lover's dream.


part 2

your essence...
i quiver at your presence
i laugh at my mind
that tries to teach me lessons
i'm falling for you
can you hear my body calling you?

got me playing a game that has no reward
it makes me feel so good
i start to speak backwards
your name is always on the tip of my tongue
i want to scream to the top of my lungs
that i am in love with you.


infatuated, sometimes a little psychotic
yeah, some thoughts are even erotic
but they're not always bad
only when you look at me
with those seductive eyes
that have had me captured for so long
or when i hear another sad love song

your voice, your tone
if loving you is right
then i don't want to be wrong
i need you
like a leech, i feed off you

but it won't stop these words
from coming out of my pen
and when you're around me
my heart is warm
and i know that you'll always
give me love taps on the arm
so  if your reading this
you're the girl in my love poem.



part 3

You stole my heart,
From the first glance.
Are you kind enough,
To give me just one chance?

I'd make you happy;
You'd fall in love.
The one's from your past
Would all get the shove.

Soul mates from the beginning,
Soul mates till the end.
We'll love each other,
You'll be more than just a friend.

Our love will grow deeper,
With each passing day,
Desiring each other.
In more than one way.

So give me your heart,
I need it to believe
That with each passing day
Your love
I'd receive.



part 4

My love is like a river...
it is deep.  
My love is like a flower...
it's a beautiful blossom for you to reap.
My love is like the sunshine...
so visible and warm.
Like a shelter, a refuge,
my love protects you from the storm.
Yes, my love is like
so many other things.
But, most importantly,
my love is always with you;
no matter what life brings



part 5

Her essence rises and touches me softly
As her expression lures me inside her voice
Whispering of all the magical places untraveled
Guiding me to the paths of the unknown and unseen
She gazes down deep within the recesses of my soul
Taking hold gently as she embraces all of me with just a touch
Within the folds of my budding consciousness of her near me
She awakens the darkness and a surrounding light she unfolds
Her essence rises and entrances me entirely
With it she moves me like no other has ever done
For she has come to birth the very core of my being
Giving life to what once was hardened and gone
She comforts me in my moments of discouragement
Singing a song that soothes my heart and my mind
Words spoken with whispers of loving seen within her
Heartfelt voices of the longing she has shared from inside
Her essence rises and I know that she is the one
As I have never felt my world break away in so many ways
Releasing each single part of everything that I am
In return giving freely to building my world around her

Nothing could ever be felt as deep as this




part 6

Day to day, night to night, breath to breath,
My heart is starving for only one thing,
Which would be my sweet medicine,
And would cure me from my dreadful illness.

The last hope of a hopeless man,
Who's lips were thirsty for a kiss for so long,
Ears were "hungry" to hear the word "love,"
Soul and body cried for a soft touch.

I'm afraid of what I am feeling again,
Because my heart was broken so many times;
When a girl said, 'bye...' I felt I would die.

Your love gave me hope again,
But happiness and joy are not my guests;
I'm afraid to be happy... but I want to be.



part 7

The music of the sea,
And its swelling waves,
So mighty and strong,
Nothing can deny my love to you.

The wind blows
And the sun shines,
It's natures' daily routine for a day,
And mine is loving you.

I feel desolated whenever you're not with me.
For you are the only one I desire to be with,
And you only are the one that I
Want to spend the rest of my life with.

I'd rather be alone than without you.
Only you my heart desires,
And only you I yearn to be with,
My dear precious.

My love for you would only swell and never fade.
I promise you to love you with all my heart
if you give me just one chance



part 8


I see something special about you,
When I look into your eyes.
So sweet, so wonderful,
Something I can't describe.
You give me a love,
That I've never before felt.
With every look, with every touch
You make my heart melt.
There are no words, no thoughts
To describe how much you mean to me.
In all my hopes, in all my dreams
I hope this is meant to be.
'Cause I can't imagine my life without you,
And I hope you'll say
you feel the same way too.
I'm in love with you
I hope you see, and I hope
That this will always be.
because I care for you
More than ever.
I love you today, tomorrow,
Now and forever.



part 9

I sing to use the waiting,
To ease the pain of my soul,
And to gratify all needs,

And, one day, we'll tell each other how we sing,
And it will keep the darkness from entering,

I wait, until the day you approach,
And we sing; together,
Because every new beginning,
Comes from another beginning's end?




part 10

the day we met, is the the day the angels sighed &
said "PERFECT"
they put down thier arrows & love potion
they knew their work was done
they spent years, trying to find the
one for me
I s'pose they spent years on you as well
I s'pose they never thought that you & I would
make such a good us
they never saw it till...
till you walked into my life
I would like to believe they spent forever working
on us
I bet they knew the moment that our eyes met, that
I was your perfect match & you were mine
they knew it before either of us did, that you are the
love of my life, you are all I can't resist
I no longer need their love nor their
support
now their work is done, they can rest assured, that
you & I are a perfect match 'cause,
the day we met is the day the angels
sighed & said "PERFECT



part 11



Every time you smile, you blow my sadness away!
Every time your hands caress me, my body trembles!
Every time you whisper my name, I fly away!
Every time you breath, you set free the passion inside of me!

You're like the wind that drags and leaves
his marks on every site he goes!
You're the melody that sings inside of me every moment of my life!
You're the oxygen that I breath during my wildest dreams!
You're everything that I hoped to meet!

But when you're sad...
I want to be there to blow your sadness away!
When you cry...
I want to be the tears that grow in your eyes!
When you have a nightmare....
I want to be there to hug you during the night!
When you feel frightened...
I want to be at your side to fight against your fears!

And all this because I love you!



part 12


I'm waiting to be in your arms,
To feel the peace again.
I'm waiting to feel your eyes,
Feel them with mine,
Just waiting for the touch of your lips,
The taste of sweet perfectness,
Waiting for the grasp of your hand,
To know I have something to hold...
Just waiting for YOU!



part 13

Unimaginable to queens and doves
I was caught between soft gasps of delight
and the privileged serenity
of taking in your smile

That solicitous smile 
delivered hope to my soul
when soft swept words carried
dusk into nocturnal magic

Then a trickle of light nestled your hair
and I waited for the wind
and tiny bells to ring 
the anticipating sound of surrender

JOURNAL: I DON'T GIVE A FUCK ANYMORE

I’ve been dating for so long and going through the same motions, the same conversations, the same disappointments, the same coffee drinks, the same everything that I forgot what it was like to have fun. And frankly, to go after what I wanted. When I was young, I would have never put up with a woman who didn’t call me back or a someone who forgot something important in my life. I wouldn’t have settled for some mediocre date because I had endless hope and trust that I’d one day meet a pretty stellar woman, so why would I put up with a childish woman.? How is it, that I have I wasted so much time worrying when, how and where I was going to meet my partner instead of enjoying the ride? Why did I care if it didn’t work out with some girl. Instead of worrying if I was ‘running out of time’ or if I was ‘going to be alone forever’—I’ve stopped caring.  By letting go of the anxiety that’s been in my gut for the past decade, I’ve opened myself up to something healthier… peace. I feel free to explore, free of my own self-imposed deadlines on love, free to live life, spend money, take trips, go out or binge-watch… however and whenever I want. If that means meeting someone along the way, then great. If not, then I’ll just have to trust—like I did when I was younger—that it’ll work itself out.Now, just because I don’t care as much, doesn’t mean my intentions have changed. I still really (truly, madly, deeply) want to share my life with someone, and while I can’t make it happen, I also can’t worry about it. If it’s going to happen, it will. I can’t speed it up or slow it down or develop an ulcer in the process. And maybe more importantly—I have to (and want to) be happy in the meantime. I’ve never let any woman control my happiness level, so why am I allowing my imaginary future wife take the reigns on my dimples? I’m not. Because ya know what? I don’t give a care anymore. And it’s the best decision I’ve made about my dating life in a very, very long time.

ARTICLE:The Creative Apocalypse That Wasn’t By STEVEN JOHNSON NYTIMES

The Creative Apocalypse That Wasn’t

In the digital economy, it was supposed to be impossible to make money by making art. Instead, creative careers are thriving — but in complicated and unexpected ways.

By STEVEN JOHNSONAUG. 19, 2015

n July 11, 2000, in one of the more unlikely moments in the history of the Senate Judiciary Committee, Senator Orrin Hatch handed the microphone to Metallica’s drummer, Lars Ulrich, to hear his thoughts on art in the age of digital reproduction. Ulrich’s primary concern was a new online service called Napster, which had debuted a little more than a year before. As Ulrich explained in his statement, the band began investigating Napster after unreleased versions of one of their songs began playing on radio stations around the country. They discovered that their entire catalog of music was available there for free.


Ulrich’s trip to Washington coincided with a lawsuit that Metallica had just filed against Napster — a suit that would ultimately play a role in the company’s bankruptcy filing. But in retrospect, we can also see Ulrich’s appearance as an intellectual milestone of sorts, in that he articulated a critique of the Internet-­era creative economy that became increasingly commonplace over time. ‘‘We typically employ a record producer, recording engineers, programmers, assistants and, occasionally, other musicians,’’ Ulrich told the Senate committee. ‘‘We rent time for months at recording studios, which are owned by small-­business men who have risked their own capital to buy, maintain and constantly upgrade very expensive equipment and facilities. Our record releases are supported by hundreds of record companies’ employees and provide programming for numerous radio and television stations. ... It’s clear, then, that if music is free for downloading, the music industry is not viable. All the jobs I just talked about will be lost, and the diverse voices of the artists will disappear.’’

The intersection between commerce, technology and culture has long been a place of anxiety and foreboding. Marxist critics in the 1940s denounced the assembly-line approach to filmmaking that Hollywood had pioneered; in the ’60s, we feared the rise of television’s ‘‘vast wasteland’’; the ’80s demonized the record executives who were making money off violent rap lyrics and ‘‘Darling Nikki’’; in the ’90s, critics accused bookstore chains and Walmart of undermining the subtle curations of independent bookshops and record stores.


Six creatives in the Los Angeles area are supporting themselves with gigs that would have been impossible 15 years ago.

But starting with Ulrich’s testimony, a new complaint has taken center stage, one that flips those older objections on their heads. The problem with the culture industry is no longer its rapacious pursuit of consumer dollars. The problem with the culture industry is that it’s not profitable enough. Thanks to its legal troubles, Napster itself ended up being much less important as a business than as an omen, a preview of coming destructions. Its short, troubled life signaled a fundamental rearrangement in the way we discover, consume and (most importantly) pay for creative work. In the 15 years since, many artists and commentators have come to believe that Ulrich’s promised apocalypse is now upon us — that the digital economy, in which information not only wants to be free but for all practical purposes is free, ultimately means that ‘‘the diverse voices of the artists will disappear,’’ because musicians and writers and filmmakers can no longer make a living.

Take a look at your own media consumption, and you can most likely see the logic of the argument. Just calculate for a second how many things you used to pay for that now arrive free of charge: all those Spotify playlists that were once $15 CDs; the countless hours of YouTube videos your kids watch each week; online articles that once required a magazine subscription or a few bucks at the newsstand. And even when you do manage to pull out a credit card, the amounts are shrinking: $9 for an e-book that used to be a $20 hardcover. If the prices of traditional media keep falling, then it seems logical to critics that we will end up in a world in which no one has an economic incentive to follow creative passions. The thrust of this argument is simple and bleak: that the digital economy creates a kind of structural impossibility that art will make money in the future. The world of professional creativity, the critics fear, will soon be swallowed by the profusion of amateurs, or the collapse of prices in an age of infinite and instant reproduction will cheapen art so that no one will be able to quit their day jobs to make it — or both.

The trouble with this argument is that it has been based largely on anecdote, on depressing stories about moderately successful bands that are still sharing an apartment or filmmakers who can’t get their pictures made because they refuse to pander to a teenage sensibility. When we do see hard data about the state of the culture business, it usually tracks broad industry trends or the successes and failures of individual entertainment companies. That data isn’t entirely irrelevant, of course; it’s useful to know whether the music industry is making more or less money than it did before Ulrich delivered his anti-­Napster testimony. But ultimately, those statistics only hint at the most important question. The dystopian scenario, after all, isn’t about the death of the record business or Hollywood; it’s about the death of music or movies. As a society, what we most want to ensure is that the artists can prosper — not the record labels or studios or publishing conglomerates, but the writers, musicians, directors and actors themselves.

Their financial fate turns out to be much harder to measure, but I endeavored to try. Taking 1999 as my starting point — the year both Napster and Google took off — I plumbed as many data sources as I could to answer this one question: How is today’s creative class faring compared with its predecessor a decade and a half ago? The answer isn’t simple, and the data provides ammunition for conflicting points of view. It turns out that Ulrich was incontrovertibly correct on one point: Napster did pose a grave threat to the economic value that consumers placed on recorded music. And yet the creative apocalypse he warned of has failed to arrive. Writers, performers, directors and even musicians report their economic fortunes to be similar to those of their counterparts 15 years ago, and in many cases they have improved. Against all odds, the voices of the artists seem to be louder than ever.

The closest data set we have to a bird’s-eye view of the culture industry can be found in the Occupational Employment Statistics, an enormous compendium of data assembled by the Labor Department that provides employment and income estimates. Broken down by general sector and by specific professions, the O.E.S. lets you see both the forest and the trees: You can track employment data for the Farming, Fishing and Forestry Occupations (Group 45-0000), or you can zoom in all the way to the Fallers (Group 45-4021) who are actually cutting down the trees. The O.E.S. data goes back to the 1980s, though some of the category definitions have changed over time. This, and the way the agency collects its data, can make specific year-to-year comparisons less reliable. The best approximation of the creative-class group as a whole is Group 27-0000, or Arts, Design, Entertainment, Sports and Media Occupations. It’s a broader definition than we’re looking for — I think we can all agree that professional athletes are doing just fine, thank you very much — but it gives us a place to start.


The first thing that jumps out at you, looking at Group 27-0000, is how stable it has been over the past decade and a half. In 1999, the national economy supported 1.5 million jobs in that category; by 2014, the number had grown to nearly 1.8 million. This means the creative class modestly outperformed the rest of the economy, making up 1.2 percent of the job market in 2001 compared with 1.3 percent in 2014. Annual income for Group 27-0000 grew by 40 percent, slightly more than the O.E.S. average of 38 percent. From that macro viewpoint, it hardly seems as though the creative economy is in dust-bowl territory. If anything, the market looks as if it is rewarding creative work, not undermining it, compared with the pre-­Napster era.

The problem with the O.E.S. data is that it doesn’t track self-­employed workers, who are obviously a large part of the world of creative production. For that section of the culture industry, the best data sources are the United States Economic Census, which is conducted every five years, and a firm called Economic Modeling Specialists International, which tracks detailed job numbers for self-­employed people in specific professions. If anything, the numbers from the self-­employed world are even more promising. From 2002 to 2012, the number of businesses that identify as or employ ‘‘independent artists, writers and performers’’ (which also includes some athletes) grew by almost 40 percent, while the total revenue generated by this group grew by 60 percent, far exceeding the rate of inflation.

What do these data sets have to tell us about musicians in particular? According to the O.E.S., in 1999 there were nearly 53,000 Americans who considered their primary occupation to be that of a musician, a music director or a composer; in 2014, more than 60,000 people were employed writing, singing or playing music. That’s a rise of 15 percent, compared with overall job-­market growth during that period of about 6 percent. The number of self-­employed musicians grew at an even faster rate: There were 45 percent more independent musicians in 2014 than in 2001. (Self-­employed writers, by contrast, grew by 20 percent over that period.)

Of course, Baudelaire would have filed his tax forms as self-­employed, too; that doesn’t mean he wasn’t also destitute. Could the surge in musicians be accompanied by a parallel expansion in the number of broke musicians? The income data suggests that this just isn’t true. According to the O.E.S., songwriters and music directors saw their average income rise by nearly 60 percent since 1999. The census version of the story, which includes self-­employed musicians, is less stellar: In 2012, musical groups and artists reported only 25 percent more in revenue than they did in 2002, which is basically treading water when you factor in inflation. And yet collectively, the figures seem to suggest that music, the creative field that has been most threatened by technological change, has become more profitable in the post-­Napster era — not for the music industry, of course, but for musicians themselves. Somehow the turbulence of the last 15 years seems to have created an economy in which more people than ever are writing and performing songs for a living.

How can this be? The record industry’s collapse is real and well documented. Even after Napster shut down in 2002, music piracy continued to grow: According to the Recording Industry Association of America, 30 billion songs were illegally downloaded from 2004 to 2009. American consumers paid for only 37 percent of the music they acquired in 2009. Artists report that royalties from streaming services like Spotify or Pandora are a tiny fraction of what they used to see from traditional album sales. The global music industry peaked just before Napster’s debut, during the heyday of CD sales, when it reaped what would amount today to almost $60 billion in revenue. Now the industry worldwide reports roughly $15 billion in revenue from recorded music, a financial Armageddon even if you consider that CDs are much more expensive to produce and distribute than digital tracks. With such a steep decline, how can the average songwriter or musician be doing better in the post-­Napster era? And why does there seem to be more musicians than ever?

Part of the answer is that the decline in recorded-­music revenue has been accompanied by an increase in revenues from live music. In 1999, when Britney Spears ruled the airwaves, the music business took in around $10 billion in live-­music revenue internationally; in 2014, live music generated almost $30 billion in revenue, according to data assembled from multiple sources by the live-music service Songkick. Starting in the early 1980s, average ticket prices for concerts closely followed the rise in overall consumer prices until the mid-1990s, when ticket prices suddenly took off: From 1997 to 2012, average ticket prices rose 150 percent, while consumer prices grew less than 100 percent. It’s elemental economics: As one good — recorded music — becomes ubiquitous, its price plummets, while another good that is by definition scarce (seeing a musician play a live performance) grows in value. Moreover, as file-­sharing and iTunes and Spotify have driven down the price of music, they have also made it far easier to envelop your life with a kind of permanent soundtrack, all of which drives awareness of the musicians and encourages fans to check them out in concert. Recorded music, then, becomes a kind of marketing expense for the main event of live shows.

It’s true that most of that live-­music revenue is captured by superstar acts like Taylor Swift or the Rolling Stones. In 1982, the musical 1-­percenters took in only 26 percent of the total revenues generated by live music; in 2003, they captured 56 percent of the market, with the top 5 percent of musicians capturing almost 90 percent of live revenues. But this winner-­takes-­all trend seems to have preceded the digital revolution; most 1-­percenters achieved their gains in the ’80s and early ’90s, as the concert business matured into a promotional machine oriented around marquee world tours. In the post-­Napster era, there seems to have been a swing back in a more egalitarian direction. According to one source, the top 100 tours of 2000 captured 90 percent of all revenue, while today the top 100 capture only 43 percent.

The growth of live music isn’t great news for the Brian Wilsons of the world, artists who would prefer to cloister themselves in the studio, endlessly tinkering with the recording process in pursuit of a masterpiece. The new economics of the post-­Napster era are certainly skewed toward artists who like to perform in public. But we should remember one other factor here that is often forgotten. The same technological forces that have driven down the price of recorded music have had a similar effect on the cost of making an album in the first place. We easily forget how expensive it was to produce and distribute albums in the pre-­Napster era. In a 2014 keynote speech at an Australian music conference, the indie producer and musician Steve Albini observed: ‘‘When I started playing in bands in the ’70s and ’80s, most bands went through their entire life cycle without so much as a note of their music ever being recorded.’’ Today, musicians can have software that emulates the sound of Abbey Road Studios on their laptops for a few thousand dollars. Distributing music around the world — a process that once required an immense global corporation or complex regional distribution deals — can now be performed by the artist herself while sitting in a Starbucks, simply through the act of uploading a file.

The vast machinery of promoters and shippers and manufacturers and A&R executives that sprouted in the middle of the 20th century, fueled by the profits of those high-­margin vinyl records and CDs, has largely withered away. What remains is a more direct relationship between the musicians and their fans. That new relationship has its own demands: the constant touring and self-­promotion, the Kickstarter campaigns that have raised $153 million dollars to date for music-­related projects, the drudgery that inevitably accompanies a life without handlers. But the economic trends suggest that the benefits are outweighing the costs. More people are choosing to make a career as a musician or a songwriter than they did in the glory days of Tower Records.

Of the big four creative industries (music, television, movies and books), music turns out to be the business that has seen the most conspicuous turmoil: None of the other three has seen anywhere near the cratering of recorded-­music revenues. The O.E.S. numbers show that writers and actors each saw their income increase by about 50 percent, well above the national average. According to the Association of American Publishers, total revenues in the fiction and nonfiction book industry were up 17 percent from 2008 to 2014, following the introduction of the Kindle in late 2007. Global television revenues have been projected to grow by 24 percent from 2012 to 2017. For actors and directors and screenwriters, the explosion of long-form television narratives has created a huge number of job opportunities. (Economic Modeling Specialists International reports that the number of self-­employed actors has grown by 45 percent since 2001.) If you were a television actor looking for work on a multiseason drama or comedy in 2001, there were only a handful of potential employers: the big four networks and HBO and Showtime. Today there are Netflix, Amazon, AMC, Syfy, FX and many others.

What about the economics of quality? Perhaps there are more musicians than ever, and the writers have collectively gotten a raise, but if the market is only rewarding bubble-­gum pop and ‘‘50 Shades Of Grey’’ sequels, there’s a problem. I think we can take it as a given that television is exempt from this concern: Shows like ‘‘Game Of Thrones,’’ ‘‘Orange Is The New Black,’’ ‘‘Breaking Bad’’ and so on confirm that we are living through a golden age of TV narrative. But are the other forms thriving artistically to the same degree?

Look at Hollywood, and at first blush the picture is deeply depressing. More than half of the highest grossing movies of 2014 were either superhero films or sequels; it’s clearly much harder to make a major-­studio movie today that doesn’t involve vampires, wizards or Marvel characters. This has led a number of commentators and filmmakers to publish eulogies for the classic midbudget picture. ‘‘Back in the 1980s and 1990s,’’ Jason Bailey wrote on Flavorwire, ‘‘it was possible to finance — either independently or via the studio system — midbudget films (anywhere from $5 million to $60 million) with an adult sensibility. But slowly, quietly, over roughly the decade and a half since the turn of the century, the paradigm shifted.’’ Movies like ‘‘Blue Velvet,’’ ‘‘Do the Right Thing’’ or ‘‘Pulp Fiction’’ that succeeded two or three decades ago, the story goes, would have had a much harder time in the current climate. Steven Soderbergh apparently felt so strongly about the shifting environment that he abandoned theatrical moviemaking altogether last year.

Is Bailey’s criticism really correct? If you make a great midbudget film in 2015, is the marketplace less likely to reward your efforts than it was 15 years ago? And has it become harder to make such a film? Cinematic quality is obviously more difficult to measure than profits or employment levels, but we can attempt an estimate of artistic achievement through the Rotten Tomatoes rankings, which aggregate critics’ reviews for movies. Based on my analysis, using data on box-­office receipts and budgets from IMDB, I looked at films from 1999 and 2013 that met three categories. First, they were original creations or adaptations, not based on existing franchises, and were intended largely for an adult audience; second, they had a budget below $80 million; and third, they were highly praised by the critics, as defined by their Rotten Tomatoes score — in other words, the best of the cinematic midlist. In 1999, the most highly rated films in these categories combined included ‘‘Three Kings,’’ ‘‘Being John Malkovich,’’ ‘‘American Beauty’’ and ‘‘Election.’’ The 2013 list included ‘‘12 Years a Slave,’’ ‘‘Her,’’ ‘‘Zero Dark Thirty,’’ ‘‘American Hustle’’ and ‘‘Nebraska.’’ In adjusted dollars, the class of 1999 brought in roughly $430 million at the box office. But the 2013 group took in about $20 million more. True, individual years can be misleading: All it takes is one monster hit to skew the numbers. But if you look at the blended average over a three-year window, there is still no evidence of decline. The 30 most highly rated midbudget films of 1999 to 2001 took in $1.5 billion at the domestic box office, adjusted for inflation; the class of 2011 to 2013 took in the exact same amount. Then as now, if you make a small or midsize movie that rates on the Top 10 lists of most critics, you’ll average roughly $50 million at the box office.

The critics are right that big Hollywood studios have abandoned the production of artistically challenging films, part of a broader trend since the 1990s of producing fewer films over all. (From 2006 to 2011, the combined output of major Hollywood studios declined by 25 percent.) And yet the total number of pictures released in the United States — nearly 600 in 2011 — remains high. A recent entertainment research report, The Sky Is Rising, notes that most of that growth has come from independent production companies, often financed by wealthy individuals from outside the traditional studio system. ‘‘Her,’’ ‘‘12 Years a Slave,’’ ‘‘Dallas Buyers Club,’’ ‘‘American Hustle’’ and ‘‘The Wolf of Wall Street’’ were all funded by major indies, though they usually relied on distribution deals with Hollywood studios. At the same time, of course, some of the slack in adventurous filmmaking has been taken up by the television networks. If Francis Ford Coppola were making his ‘‘Godfather’’ trilogy today, he might well end up at HBO or AMC, with a hundred hours of narrative at his disposal, instead of 10.



How have high-­quality books fared in the digital economy? If you write an exceptional novel or biography today, are you more or less likely to hit the best-­seller list than you might have in the pre-­Kindle age? Here the pessimists might have a case, based on my analysis. Every year, editors at The New York Times Book Review select the 100 notable books of the year. In 2004 and 2005, the years before the first Kindles were released, those books spent a combined 2,781 weeks on The Times’s best-­seller list and the American Booksellers Association’s IndieBound list, which tracks sales in independent bookstores. In 2013 and 2014, the notable books spent 2,531 weeks on the best-­seller lists — a decline of 9 percent. When you look at the two lists separately, the story becomes more complicated still. The critical successes of 2013 and 2014 actually spent 6 percent more weeks on the A.B.A. list, but 30 percent fewer weeks on the broader Times list. The numbers seem to suggest that the market for books may be evolving into two distinct systems. Critically successful works seem to be finding their audience more easily among indie-­bookstore shoppers, even as the mainstream market has been trending toward a winner-­takes-­all sweepstakes.



This would be even more troubling if independent bookstores — traditional champions of the literary novel and thoughtful nonfiction — were on life support. But contrary to all expectations, these stores have been thriving. After hitting a low in 2007, decimated not only by the Internet but also by the rise of big-box chains like Borders and Barnes & Noble, indie bookstores have been growing at a steady clip, with their number up 35 percent (from 1,651 in 2009 to 2,227 in 2015); by many reports, 2014 was their most financially successful year in recent memory. Indie bookstores account for only about 10 percent of overall book sales, but they have a vastly disproportionate impact on the sale of the creative midlist books that are so vital to the health of the culture.

How do we explain the evolutionary niche that indie bookstores seem to have found in recent years? It may be as simple as the tactile appeal of books and bookstores themselves. After several years of huge growth, e-book sales have plateaued over the past two years at 25 to 30 percent of the market, telegraphing that a healthy consumer appetite for print remains. To many of us, buying music in physical form is now simply an inconvenience: schlepping those CDs home and burning them and downloading the tracks to our mobile devices. But many of the most ardent Kindle converts — and I count myself among them — still enjoy browsing shelves of physical books, picking them up and sitting back on the couch with them. The trend might also reflect the social dimension of book culture: If you’re looking for literary community, you head out to the weekly reading series at the indie bookstore and buy something while you’re there. (Arguably, it’s the same phenomenon that happened with music, only with a twist. If you’re looking for musical community, you don’t go out on a CD-­buying binge. You go to a show instead.)

All these numbers, of course, only hint at whether our digital economy rewards quality. Or — even better than that milquetoast word ‘‘quality’’ — at whether it rewards experimentation, boundary-­pushing, satire, the real drivers of new creative work. It could be that our smartphone distractions and Kardashian celebrity culture have slowly but steadily lowered our critical standards, the aesthetic version of inflation: The critics might like certain films and books today because they’re surrounded by such a vast wasteland of mediocrity, but if you had released them 15 years ago, they would have paled beside the masterpieces of that era. But if you scan the titles, it is hard to see an obvious decline. A marketplace that rewarded ‘‘American Beauty,’’ ‘‘The Corrections’’ or ‘‘In the Heart of the Sea’’ doesn’t seem glaringly more sophisticated than one that rewards ‘‘12 Years a Slave,’’ ‘‘The Flamethrowers’’ or ‘‘The Sixth Extinction.’’

If you believe the data, then one question remains. Why have the more pessimistic predictions not come to pass? One incontrovertible reason is that — contrary to the justifiable fears of a decade ago — people will still pay for creative works. The Napsterization of culture turned out to be less of a threat to prices than it initially appeared. Consumers spend less for recorded music, but more for live. Most American households pay for television content, a revenue stream that for all practical purposes didn’t exist 40 years ago. Average movie-­ticket prices continue to rise. For interesting reasons, book piracy hasn’t taken off the way it did with music. And a whole new creative industry — video games — has arisen to become as lucrative as Hollywood. American households in 2013 spent 4.9 percent of their income on entertainment, the exact same percentage they spent in 2000.

At the same time, there are now more ways to buy creative work, thanks to the proliferation of content-­delivery platforms. Practically every device consumers own is tempting them at all hours with new films or songs or shows to purchase. Virtually no one bought anything on their computer just 20 years ago; the idea of using a phone to buy and read a 700-page book about a blind girl in occupied France would have sounded like a joke even 10 years ago. But today, our phones sell us every form of media imaginable; our TVs charge us for video-­on-­demand products; our car stereos urge us to sign up for SiriusXM.

And just as there are more avenues for consumers to pay for creative work, there are more ways to be compensated for making that work. Think of that signature flourish of 2000s-­era television artistry: the exquisitely curated (and usually obscure) song that signals the transition from final shot to the rolling credits. Having a track featured during the credits of ‘‘Girls’’ or ‘‘Breaking Bad’’ or ‘‘True Blood’’ can be worth hundreds of thousands of dollars to a songwriter. (Before that point, the idea of licensing a popular song for the credits of a television series was almost unheard-­of.) Video-­game budgets pay for actors, composers, writers and song licenses. There are YouTube videos generating ad revenue and Amazon Kindle Singles earning royalties, not to mention those emerging studios (like Netflix and Yahoo) that are spending significant dollars on high-­quality video. Filmmakers alone have raised more than $290 million on Kickstarter for their creations. Musicians are supplementing their income with instrument lessons on YouTube. All of these outlets are potential sources of revenue for the creative class, and all of them are creatures of the post-­Napster era. The Future of Music Coalition recently published a list of all the revenue streams available to musicians today, everything from sheet-­music sales at concerts to vinyl-­album sales. They came up with 46 distinct sources, 13 of which — including YouTube partner revenue and ringtone royalties — were nonexistent 15 years ago, and six of which, including film and television licensing, have greatly expanded in the digital age.


The biggest change of all, perhaps, is the ease with which art can be made and distributed. The cost of consuming culture may have declined, though not as much as we feared. But the cost of producing it has dropped far more drastically. Authors are writing and publishing novels to a global audience without ever requiring the service of a printing press or an international distributor. For indie filmmakers, a helicopter aerial shot that could cost tens of thousands of dollars a few years ago can now be filmed with a GoPro and a drone for under $1,000; some directors are shooting entire HD-­quality films on their iPhones. Apple’s editing software, Final Cut Pro X, costs $299 and has been used to edit Oscar-­winning films. A musician running software from Native Instruments can recreate, with astonishing fidelity, the sound of a Steinway grand piano played in a Vienna concert hall, or hundreds of different guitar-­amplifier sounds, or the Mellotron proto-­synthesizer that the Beatles used on ‘‘Strawberry Fields Forever.’’ These sounds could have cost millions to assemble 15 years ago; today, you can have all of them for a few thousand dollars.

From the bird’s-­eye perspective, it may not look as though all that much has changed in terms of the livelihoods of the creative class. On the whole, creators seem to be making slightly more money, while growing in number at a steady but not fast pace. I suspect the profound change lies at the boundaries of professionalism. It has never been easier to start making money from creative work, for your passion to undertake that critical leap from pure hobby to part-time income source. Write a novel or record an album, and you can get it online and available for purchase right away, without persuading an editor or an A&R executive that your work is commercially viable. From the consumer’s perspective, blurring the boundaries has an obvious benefit: It widens the pool of potential talent. But it also has an important social merit. Widening the pool means that more people are earning income by doing what they love.

These new careers — collaborating on an indie-­movie soundtrack with a musician across the Atlantic, uploading a music video to YouTube that you shot yourself on a smartphone — require a kind of entrepreneurial energy that some creators may lack. The new environment may well select for artists who are particularly adept at inventing new career paths rather than single-­mindedly focusing on their craft. There are certainly pockets of the creative world, like those critically acclaimed books dropping off the mainstream best-­seller lists, where the story is discouraging. And even the positive trends shouldn’t be interpreted as a mindless defense of the status quo. Most full-time artists barely make enough money to pay the bills, and so if we have levers to pull that will send more income their way — whether these take the form of government grants, Kickstarter campaigns or higher fees for the music we stream — by all means we should pull those levers.

But just because creative workers deserve to make more money, it doesn’t mean that the economic or technological trends are undermining their livelihoods. If anything, the trends are making creative livelihoods more achievable. Contrary to Lars Ulrich’s fear in 2000, the ‘‘diverse voices of the artists’’ are still with us, and they seem to be multiplying. The song remains the same, and there are more of us singing it for a living.

PERSONAL:YOU SHOULD BE MINE

If you loved me, things would be different. I would be different. Maybe we would be at brunch right now snuggling in a corner booth and being like, “Oh my god, do you want the last bite? I don’t want it. Have it!” Or maybe we would be lying in bed on our computers and not talking to each other. The air would be thick with tension and you would be eating crackers in bed and getting crumbs EVERYWHERE. God! Who knows what we would be doing this morning. Not me because you don’t love me, remember?!

If you loved me, you would be a well-rounded person. Your skills would include but not be limited to: skiing, kayaking, Nutella eating, orgasm giving, being cute all the time, fitting into a size small in Rodarte, having good music taste and, oh yeah, loving me! You could even put it on your resume. “I’m very good at loving this person. I hope to apply this skill of loving to your awesome company.” If you loved me, maybe you would have an awesome job. Maybe everything would be awesome.

If you loved me, I wouldn’t have to hate you. I wouldn’t have to look at you and get angry for your inability to be content with just holding my hand. Come on, just do it. Just love me. It’s really not that hard. A few feisty comments here and there, a sense of humor and a nice butt is really all I need to keep me happy. But I guess this isn’t about me. It’s about you needing something different than what I can give you. This “thing’ is elusive and I hate it. If they were selling “the thing” that could make you love me forever, I would buy it in a heartbeat. I’d buy two just in case the other one ran out of batteries or something. I would do anything, which makes me hate myself and then you and then back to myself again.

If you loved me, you would fight with me. You would care enough to get enraged. Those months you stopped caring, those months you didn’t mind if I talked to a supermodel, that’s when I knew you had no more love for me. Me: “Hey babe, I’m getting this hot person’s number. Jealous?” You: “No.”

If you loved me, you would’ve let me experience something truly special. You would’ve showed me that I could be loved and that everything was going to be okay. You had the power to do that. You have the power to do that.

If you loved me, I would love you back. There. Uncomplicated. 2 + 2 = love. That’s what everyone wants, right? Uncomplicated “we’re on the same page” love? Well, it could’ve been us. But you didn’t want it. Or maybe you did but you couldn’t. That’s the worst, right? Wanting to love someone but realizing you can’t actually do it. Your brain, your heart, your dick just won’t let it happen. And you’re just left with having to break a lot of people’s hearts.

If you loved me, I wouldn’t have had to write this

PERSONAL: A SAPIOSEXUAL IN SEARCH OF SAPIOSEXUAL

 I'm not like anyone else you will meet on here, guaranteed. If I can keep you laughing all night you will owe me a second date, deal? Just like any person with eyesight, I know how to appreciate the aesthetics of a good looking woman. But I've never connected emotionally with looks. Sapiosexual in search of sapiosexual! If you don't know what this means and before you assume it is something perverted please check with google. It’s beautiful when you find someone that is in love with your mind. Someone that wants to undress your conscience and make love to your thoughts. Someone that wants to watch you slowly take down all the walls you’ve built up around your mind and let them inside. I am unapologetically attracted to the intelligence in others. It turns me on. If I’m going to be bold and bare naked, I need to be honest. My brain and my ego are warning me to edit and omit a few details, but my heart says lay it out there.The brain is the largest sex organ, and this explains why some people are turned on more by the insights of a person or their personality rather than their physical appearance. They are more stimulated or challenged by the way another person thinks. They are basically in love with the mind. Sapiosexuals know that relationships are more fulfilling when something more than physical attraction is shared. Intelligence is a substance that does not go away and it can be shared forever. If that is not attractive, I don’t know what is…Save the pretty face for somebody else, just give me them brains .It is just difficult to find people of the same wavelength. I find conversations enriched somehow when I learn about something that I didn't know before. Have you ever been in lust or in love with someone’s mind? I flirted with her mind and she danced inside of mine. I love talking about the poetry of Pablo Neruda,movies. stocks, love, and sex and sacrifice. Conversation to me is the ultimate aphrodisiac. It is a dress rehearsal; conversation is foreplay and a window inside our hearts and our lovers. We start to fall in love with the unexpected pause, the short intermission before the plot unfolds. Personal narratives are worthy of being shared. It gives relationships meaning and context.

I needed to get inside your heads and discover what made your neural pathways different than mine. When I was convinced that your temporal lobes could handle the trek inside my cerebral jungle gym, I let them slide in. I was introduced to a Japanese word, “YUGEN.” It is pronounced, yoo-gehn, which is an awareness of the universe that can trigger emotional responses that are too deep and mysterious for words.

Wouldn’t each of us like to have that kind of passionate experience? “Too deep for words.” As I quietly searched for this elevated and mystical experience, I became aware of how powerful it is to be fearlessly open and curious about another person’s mind. The effect is magical.When the brain is alive and working hard, the entire body is fed and primed for pleasure. Imagine sitting on one of those expensive massage chairs and getting kissed simultaneously. Our brains crave an above average level of stimulation and novelty.

If one were to gather all of my ex's together they would see stark differences in personality, looks and interests. One thing they all have in common is their intellect. Some were more in touch with their emotional IQ and some not at all. In the end, they were all so smart and talented in their own ways. The more someone knows than me, the more likely I am to love them.

Chemistry isn’t compatibility. Chemistry is when you physically click together, regardless of how good or bad you are for one another. Compatibility is generally sharing the same values and balancing each other out. That can occur without chemistry.The biggest aphrodisiac in the world is someone who likes you and isn’t afraid to show it.

Ideally I'm looking for my last first date! I'm putting in a serious effort to find the one I want to spend the rest of my life with.In the meantime I am enjoying my life. I hope you are the type that can appreciate and understand this! I own my own home in a great neighborhood, car, etc.. Stable, working. I love to travel when I can. I need someone that will inspire me! Someone that can reciprocate - will focus on making a relationship work, rather than me me me... (I will focus on you you you!)

ARTICLE: Tinder is tearing society apart By Naomi Schaefer Riley NY POST

Tinder is tearing society apart By Naomi Schaefer Riley


Some people still catch feelings in hook-up culture.”

Of all the depressing lines spoken by young adults in the article “Tinder and the Dawn of the ‘Dating Apocalypse’ in the September issue of Vanity Fair, that one takes the cake.

Meredith, a sophomore at Bellarmine University in Louisville, Ky., explains that “It’s not like just blind f—ing for pleasure and it’s done; some people actually like the other person. Sometimes you actually catch feelings, and that’s what sucks.”

To clarify, what sucks is that there is really no room for “feelings” in the current mating culture.

THESE APPS HAVE BROUGHT THE MEN’S “GAME” TO A NEW LEVEL.

Conservatives have bemoaned the hook-up culture that exists on college campuses and the after-college bar scene for years now.

But, as Vanity Fair demonstrates, apps like Tinder have brought us to a new low. From college campuses in Indiana to bars in New York City, men and women are using technology to find available partners in the vicinity, for one thing only: sex.

But this is more than a dating apocalypse. This is the marriage apocalypse.

All of this endless swiping is producing men and women who have an infinite choices of sexual partners with no strings attached. This can’t go on long before it has a serious effect on how you view members of the opposite sex. Examining your options seems to be never-ending these days.

In the past few decades, the average age of first marriage has climbed significantly — to all-time highs of almost 30 for men and 27 for women. And the marriage rates have plummeted. There were 31 marriages per 1,000 women in 2014, compared to 1920, when it was 92 per 1,000.

According to Dr. Susan Brown, co-director of the National Center for Marriage and Family Research at Bowling Green University, since 1970 the marriage rate has declined by almost 60%.

What’s doubly depressing is that has affected the poor more than the rich. For college graduates, the rates of marriage have been almost unchanged. But among those with lower incomes, it’s plummeting, which leads to a vicious circle.

Studies repeatedly show that children born out of wedlock have worse life outcomes — with children born to single mothers more than twice as likely to be arrested for a juvenile crime and a third more likely to drop out before completing high school.

But the Tinder Effect could throw the future of marriage at all income levels into chaos.

Reporter Nancy Jo Sales interviews are almost entirely with college students and college grads. They spend hour after hour swiping through people’s pictures and responding to the ones they find attractive.

THIS IS MORE THAN A DATING APOCALYPSE. THIS IS THE MARRIAGE APOCALYPSE.

As Alex, an Ivy League grad working at an investment bank explains, “you’re always sort of prowling. You could talk to two or three girls at a bar and pick the best one, or you can swipe a couple hundred people a day — the sample size is so much larger. It’s setting up two or three Tinder dates a week and, chances are, sleeping with all of them, so you could rack up 100 girls you’ve slept with in a year.”

It’s hard to imagine how such habits will be broken. Even the formula for success that has been drummed into the heads of middle-class kids — good education, good job, marriage, kids — will not be enough to stand up to 10 years of swiping for sex.

Skeptics will say that Ivy League grads working at investment banks have never had trouble finding sexual partners in New York. I have certainly known my share of them. They would yammer on about how many dates they would have to sit through before expecting sex — three was the max, I recall.

They would have first date, second date, and third date restaurants, representing how much they would spend to get a girl into bed.

It all seems quaint now. These apps have brought the men’s “game” to a new level. First of all, they never have to leave their apartments, let alone spend money on a date. Now it’s just messages like “Send me nudes.” Or “I’m looking for something quick in the next 10 or 20 minutes.”

As one young woman observes, “It’s straight efficiency.”

Some herald this brave new world. Aziz Ansari, a comedian who authored a book called “Modern Romance” with Eric Klinenberg, a sociologist at NYU, argues in Time magazine that “Tinder actually isn’t so different from what our grandparents did. Nor is it all that different from what one friend of mine did, using online dating to find someone Jewish who lived nearby. In a world of infinite possibilities, we’ve cut down our options to people we’re attracted to in our neighborhood.”

But the truth is we are a world away from Ansari’s grandparents, whose relationship was arranged by their families. The families may have cut down their options for them.

But they were interested in producing long-lasting relationships with happy, successful families. People who look for matches inside their religious community to date have something very different in mind than those using Tinder.

Parents who read this article may comfort themselves with the thought that their own children would not engage in this kind of depraved behavior for any length of time.

That their daughters know better than to have sex with a guy they’ve never met who communicates with them entirely in emojis. That their sons have more respect for women.

But the culture matters.

And if a critical mass of women are willing to be used by hook-up culture, because that’s what all the kids are doing these days, it affects everyone’s prospects. Men too are allowed to live in a perpetual adolescence and never find out what it means to put effort into a relationship.

PERSONAL; TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN

Instead of listing the usual boring facts of life (“My friends say that I’m nice and also funny …”) and answering a million compatibility questions...I decided to sent this message to the universe.

To know me is to love me. This cliche is popular for a reason, because most of us, I imagine, believe deep in our hearts that if anyone truly got to know us, they'd truly get to love us - or at least know why we're the way we are. The problem in life, maybe the central problem, is that so few people ever seem to have sufficient curiosity to do the job on us that we know we deserve. To know me is to love me, or at least that’s what I’ve heard. I hesitate to agree with this, at the risk of sounding absurd. To know me is to love me, at least I’d like to believe. I dare to utter these words out loud, to those unwilling to receive?
To know me is to love me, a work in progress indeed. Please don’t judge the humanness,
from which my faults do feed. To know me is to love me, for I’m growing every day. Like a rare and unusual flower, that blossoms in its own special way.



To whom it may concern,

I know you’re out there. And you know you’re out there, too.

I don’t know what you look or sound like, but I do know that you remind me of someone I’ve met before or have seen in a movie or on the subway or at the airport or Yankee Stadium or in my dreams or, come to think of it, perhaps it was on Facebook.

I know that you’re nice and also good. And even though I don’t know what you look like, I can see this nice goodness (or good niceness) in your eyes and in your smile, and I’ve often felt your warm, faraway gaze upon me, particularly when I’m asleep and sometimes in the shower.

The way you look at me is the way that no one has ever looked at me before. It’s like you’re wearing a magical version of those X-ray Specs that used to be featured in Bazooka bubble gum and in the back of comic books, and you can see who I am and who I was and who I will be. And I can also see you in the exact same way. It’s like seeing each other naked without really being naked, although that will come later.

Simply put, we were meant to be.  We are destined to be together and we’ve both known it since we were little children right out of a book by Haruki Murakami or a Wes Anderson movie. I used to tell my mother about you and you grew more beautiful with each telling, and she said that we would find each other someday because that’s the way true love works, and then told me to shut up and go finish my homework. Maybe your mom told you to shut up, too!

You’re amazing, and no similes can do you justice because you’re incomparable, but I’ll give it a shot anyway. You are:

… as smart as lots of books (most of which I’ve read) combined into one big book.

… as sexy as Penélope Cruz applying deodorant first thing in the morning.

… as compassionate as thick, natural wool socks in a blizzard.

… as insightful as a four-year-old who has lived several past lives.

… as fearless as Gandhi, but without all the fasting.

… as kind as the fantasy mother in our daydreams about perfect moms who never tell you to shut up.

… as sweet as candy to my soul, sweet you rock, and sweet you roll (thanks, Dave).

In other words, you are “the one” — although there are hundreds, maybe even thousands like you.

But you are the only one* for me.

You’re either tall, short or medium. You have blonde, brunette, black, red or auburn hair, or maybe you wear a wig. You’re thin, average, . You’re white, black, Asian, Hispanic or other. You’re Jewish, Christian, Catholic, Islamic, Hindu, Buddhist, agnostic or atheist ... anything but Mormon or Scientologist. You’re rich, poor or make a comfortable living. You want children or were once a child yourself.

Most importantly — you love me and I love you.

Sincerely yours,

Me


I love beautiful, confident, and sexy women that are completely comfortable being feminine. Are you drop dead gorgeous, healthy, confident, secure, optimistic, sexually open, flexible, giving, intelligent, honest, outgoing (a social butterfly), fun, great communicator (my life is a drama-free zone), understands men, affectionate, sexy, happy, and very feminine? My ideal woman is between 5′-0″ and 5′-9″ tall, slender, and in great shape with a great body, long and straight brown, black, red, or auburn hair, dark eyes, and clear tan skin. Heath, exercise and a healthy diet are a big part of her life.

I love to laugh, tease, and have fun. I am a very playful, outrageous, silly and strong man. I am very confident and used to getting what I want. I want a woman who is used to the same. What ever you do for a living, its something you absolutely LOVE! A great sense of humor is a must! Maybe you have older brothers who still to this day, mess with you and tease you, and you’re just as playful and sweet back to them.


About me... this I find so hard to write. I mean how can anyone describe themselves on a website. What can I say to make the right one want to choose me? But, I will try.

I am a doctor I love helping people! I want a woman who is just as concerned about the welfare and upliftment of others as I am… and… who will support me in my mission to make the world a better place.

My life is about relieving suffering and pain. To wake up everyday and give a little more and be a little better than I was the day before. My life is about learning and growing and helping others do the same.  I do it because I love it. For playtime… I love being movies.. I love music and read 2 ebooks a week

I love to travel and see the world. Paris, Germany, Costa Rica, Orlando, Delray Beach, The Florida Keys, Tampa-Rocky Point, etc. I have friends that live all over the world and just love spending my time with people who have the same care and concern for making the world a little better than they found it.

I love to eat healthy and exercise regularly. My health comes first. Having great health enables me to live, love, contribute, grow, and experience life’s blessings as they were meant to be experienced. I love cooking good healthy meals for friends and family!

I am a very spiritual person. You won’t find me in a church… unless its on a historical tour lol. I’m not into organized religion. The Lord dwells in our hearts. I can read the bible and any other holy book and make up my own mind. I’m not interested in listening to dogma from unenlightened people trying to tell me how to be enlightened. I’m looking for a very spiritual woman who looks at all spiritual traditions with respect and without judgement. She’s a big LOVER. She lights the room up with her calm and peaceful presence.

A recent book I read is The Course in Miracles. It's a spiritual book that seems to reverse everything I have ever heard in life. I like it because if I love you to begin with, and see you with a loving heart, I will definitely be more compassionate towards you. Nor will I want to judge you.

To approach life with an attitude of love relieves us from judgement. As a result, I am not waiting to decide on how to treat you based on how you treat me. This also puts me in control of myself and my feelings, and I have no excuse to behave or treat you without kindness and love.

Whenever I respond to someone in a way I feel bad about later, that’s what happens. I feel bad and regret I did not handle myself in a better way. Who needs that?! These kind of emotions can also precipitate a relapse.

PERSONAL:IF YOU ARRIVED AT MY BLOG

If you arrived at my profile because: I am one of your matches: Any other reason or I messaged you: You are positively one of the luckiest women in the world. If we are a 0% match, I don't feel like this is a problem because I dated a Nerf football in college and I made it work.

I was born nude, helpless and unable to provide for myself. Not much has changed. Not Really. But I thought it would be fun to say that...I'm smart, loyal and handsome. Not necessarily in that order. I am also a bad spellr. I'm mischievous. I like to get into trouble, but not the kind you can't get out of. I've never gone to jail. I sound like a real catch so far? Huh? Let's keep going. I really don't like to take things seriously, unless the situation calls for it. Otherwise, I love to joke, make fun of people, or be made fun of. I prefer to look at the humorous side of things, otherwise life is sooooooooo boring. I love to find out about people and get to know who they are at their core. I have an appreciation for every one's uniqueness and like to bring that out. I am not very judgmental so people feel comfortable revealing themselves to me. I like to make other people feel special, even if they're not. If I keep going like this, I'm never going to get a date, but on the other hand, if you don't find this funny, we're probably not a match, Which leads me to how handsome and humble I am--two of my finer qualities for sure. I am not your stereotypical GQ model type or what you'll find in most of the clubs in Long Island. I'm not hard on the eyes, but I am more George Clooney than Tom Brady.

For me, the key thing in relationship is trust, honesty, and open communication. I will want what's best for you and I would love it if you want what's best for me.

I'm considered by women to be 'manageable'. Many have attempted to tame me, and all have succeeded in a matter of days. I'm like an old baseball glove, beaten down by life with a lingering leathery musk. It's completely coincidental that I cover my body in mink oil daily.

Our perfect date:

I pick you up in my 2002 Mazda Protege. ES edition. As you enter my sensible, fuel-efficient vehicle, you’re enveloped by the erotic perfume of pine air freshener and cool ranch Doritos. Perched in the cup holders are two wineglasses. On the armrest, a box of Franzia Reserve. We clink glasses, toasting the evening ahead: “Isn’t this illegal?” you whisper sensually. “Only if driving under the influence of passion is against the law” I reply sexily. And with that, my 4-door compact sedan slowly accelerates us into the night.

I take you to a fine restaurant. And as we enter the grand lobby of the Cheesecake Factory we’re warmly greeted by the maitre d, Tiffany. They know me here. By the time we get to our impossibly large booth, you’re already enchanted by the restaurant’s stucco elegance. I watch you struggle with the multi-volume menu. The epicurean possibilities have overwhelmed you. So I take control and order for us. All 237 items.

An endless line of former art-history majors and improv enthusiasts forms a processional of Buffalo wings, sliders and Chicken Piccata, all destined for us. After sampling the Tex Mex Egg Rolls and French Toast Napoleon, you rest your fork, defeated. The luxurious presentation of food continues unabated.

Emerging from your food coma, you ask in a low husky voice, “Can you afford to pay for all of this?” Reaching across the faux-marble table, I take your hand in mine, gaze deeply into your sparkling eyes, and charmingly reply: “I forgot my wallet at home. I’m going to need to borrow some money from you. And by some, I mean a lot.” You are speechless.

Initially, I fear that my words of seduction have rocked you into a catatonic state. But then I notice your eyes looking up and to the right. Towards the entrance. Your yearning desire to pay the bill is clear to me. As is your desire to make out with me in the parking lot of this casual, but upscale, chain restaurant. The sexual tension between us is so thick that we could cut it with one of the many steak knives that litter our table.

But instead of paying the bill, you excuse yourself to visit the restroom. You take your purse, jacket and all other personal possessions with you, saying you’ll return shortly. 10 minutes pass. Then 20. I start to worry that you’re not coming back. But then I remember something that puts my fears to rest. Of course you’re coming back. We still need to order dessert.
What I’m doing with my life
What I'm doing with my life: I'm thinking about opening a topless cleaning service for women. I would parade around older women's homes lightly dusting their trinkets. I would wear white gloves and cut off jeans. Nothing else. The old birds would purr as I would wipe my feathers across their china, making subtle eye contact. I would see the sadness in their eyes, longing for the touch of another. Sweat would bead on my face as she bends over to pull up her diabetic socks. After the brief, shameful sex, she would pay me in quarters and ask if I need a ride home.


I’m really good at

I'm really good at filling out dating site information and correctly making lists! I'm good with numbers and would totally do your taxes ;) (that was sexual). Everything I'm good at is nearly worthless. I can hit a fastball, skate backwards and solve differential equations. I can build a computer from scratch but don't ask me why your laptop has a virus (your dad was looking at naked ladies).

The first things people usually notice about me:my ridiculously long eye lashes. Food gets in them a lot. I stare a lot. It's not that I'm rude or have special needs, I'm just interested how some individuals have lived as long as they do.

Favorite books, movies, shows, music, :
I really want to say books are for prisoners. Talented Mr.Ripley. Game of Thrones. LOTR. Crime and Punishment. Sam Harris. Dan Dennett. Kurt Vonnegut. I like my metal loud, my NPR boring and Taylor Swift dead. Pandora is nice, do I look like an arrogant DJ? I want Thai food so spicy it makes my face numb.

But honestly I like to read spiritual books.
Conversation with God by Neal Donald Walsh,
Dr. Wayn Dywer
Dr Deepak
Alan Watts

The Six things I could never do without:
1.) Jebus (correct spelling)
2.) Craigslist missed connections
3.) Coffee.
4.) Interwebs
5.) Pizza over 16 inches across
6.) Legs. I like legs


I spend a lot of time thinking about

Maybe you have loads of responds in your mail box. Maybe you go on lots of dates but always come home disappointed. Or maybe you never go on dates because you believe that all it takes is to meet just one suitable man and that could happen anywhere at any time—there’s no point forcing it. I am sure you have your list of your ultimate Prince Charming! He’s got to be tall, dark, handsome, drive a Porsche and have abs like Matthew McConaughey! He’s got to be super-attractive and we’ll have amazing chemistry and he’ll call you everyday and buy you beautiful gifts!

Unfortunately, ladies, it doesn’t quite work that way. Even Charlotte from Sex and the City learn the hard way.. While the show is fittingly fantastical, the scenario proves a point. Charlotte is happily married to Harry, a balding Jewish lawyer with a flabby butt who speaks with his mouth full. He’s the love of her life and she can’t imagine being with anyone else. But rewind a few years and she was married to Trey, who checked every box on her list He was tall, dark, broodingly handsome, and rich.. But her Prince Charming turned out to be a dud in the sack. And their marriage turned out to be a dud too. No happy ending there. Hence she had to chuck out that list and start all over again with entirely different criteria. Not lower, or ‘settling’—just different.

I had a similar situation. I was married to a woman who had everything on my check list. She was absolutely gorgeous, a physician as well like myself. younger than me...ect. And my marriage didn't go well. I throw out my check list and I am looking for something different. I have an amazing life, but probably a lot like you, I am here hoping to round out my world with an honest, sincere, fun loving person who will share the warmth and companionship of a meaningful relationship. I am looking for my Charlotte.

Its so hard to find any woman now who has a heart, and willing to give up everything for love. Charlotte in the show went so far as to change religions for Harry, converting to Judaism, an act that could be seen as a way of subsuming herself just to please a man. Does that necessarily make her the perfect mother and wife, the dream of every man who’d prefer not to be challenged by a woman? Many of us like to think that “difficult” women are somehow superior to easygoing ones . But even if — or maybe because — Charlotte has sometimes seemed blindly hopeful and optimistic, she’s the show’s most demanding character. Her attitude toward love and sex isn’t as casual as that of the other three, and her expectations are definitely higher — she seems to want more out of life than any of them, a tough bill for any ordinary man to fill.

Of the four women on “Sex and the City,” Charlotte is the one who has historically demanded the impossible out of romance. But instead of being disappointed, she has ended up being happier than she ever could have imagined. That sounds more like the direct opposite of guileless simplicity. Throughout the run of the show, there’s always been something resolutely sensible about Charlotte. She’s like a Jane Austen heroine transplanted to modern Manhattan, coming around to the fact that having a plan is not only useless, it’s plain old boring — not nearly as thrilling as welcoming the surprises that life cooks up for us.

I might be your surprise...if you let me.

I've carefully constructed my profile along psychological principles to weed out women whom most men don't want, and the result has been that I've been meeting some really incredible women who are genuinely attractive, intelligent, confident, and playful. I have this naive hope that maybe I’ll get lucky and meet someone who won’t be a total waste of time; Someone who will turn out to be a person I can really see myself with. I think deep down most of us have that hope.I am on this epic journey of 'Life' and there is something thrilling about having a woman along on this ride with me. You will be my psychic and my partner in crime and all the goodness that flows. My whole life is about living life passion.

I have a confession to make. Right here, right now, I'm going to let you in on my dirty little secret. Ready? Here it goes: I hate dating. I really, really do. I would rather sit through ten hours opera music than go on a first, second, or third date. But what I have learned is that the more you hate dating, the more inclined you will be to do what it takes to get it over with and settle down in a healthy, happy, monogamous relationship.

I wish that I lived in Bangladesh or someplace where they have arranged marriages. My parents would just arrange the whole thing, and all I had to do was show up. An arranged marriage means never having to date and sometimes that seems more appealing
On a typical Friday night I am
On a typical Friday night I am: I usually find the worst bar and put on a Miley Cyrus party to get the night started properly. From there I tell the drink drone to keep bringing me whisky until I have the courage to order chicken fingers. 30 minutes of shame. Cigarettes to bring it down. More whisky to wash away the menthol. The most difficult part of Friday night is when you realize it's Tuesday afternoon.

The most private thing I'm willing to admit: Head injuries have limited my memory. What was the question?


You should message me if
You can get past this:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3v98CPXNiSk

If you decide to message me, I want to know: What was the most beautiful moment of your day?”