Have you ever looked up people with "similar interests", on the internet?
I am at present of course not in interested in meeting somebody, as I share my life with Burke and he seems, for the moment, to expect 'exclusivity' - but it's always nice to expand one's circle of acquaintance, isn't it.
Idly looking at Blog Profiles on Blogger.com, I found there was exactly one other person, among the hundreds of thousands, who has the Hite Report on Male Sexuality in his list of Favorite Books. And a man, at that. Who is this intriguing person? I thought. Could he be a soul mate?
I checked his profile:
I am a dissenting nonconformist working-class writer with a moral, intellectual, artistic and social voice of conscience! Please do not ignore my valid concerns about -- and accusations of -- malignity, wrongdoing, ineptitude, dishonesty, illegality, and perversity --against SAFTI military authorities (now retirees) who, in 1972, decided to implant me without obtaining my consent, approval, agreement or acceptance!
And so, you see, it doesn't look as if this gentleman and I have much in common, after all. It's certainly true that I am a nonconformist, and I believe I know a little about the working class life from my brief stint in the grapevines of Margaux, France.
(I know Burke told you I didn't finish my shift, there, but I did a full three hours of it, and have you any idea how absolutely back breaking and awful it is? I only did it to help out Papi, Jean-Claude's father, because he had to harvest everything before the thunderstorms began. It was brutal! You had to pick the ripe clusters, but leave the unripe ones and the ones with bunch rot. First I thought all my clusters were unripe, so I walked leisurely through the vine, and as it was a lovely day, I contemplated that the working life wasn't so bad. After all, I get to be in the house most of the time, bored and wan, while these people socialize and get tans.
True, isn't it? But then Tanguy, Papi's rather rude helper, said my clusters were all just fine and I should go back and pick the grapes. Unpleasant little man. Within 20 minutes I was drenched. But you know how I am - never one to let people down. Poor Papi was moving around awkwardly and picking with bent back, and when he tried to straighten, he didn't - that is, his back hasn't gone back to normal in the past twenty-five years. So I carried on, wouldn't hear of stopping, and by God if I didn't put in those three gruelling hours! Then I was simply exhausted and went inside to make Papi a cup of coffee. I think several hours is plenty to get an impression of anual labour is all about. Let me tell you: I've been there, seen it, done it, and thank you, I don't need any more of it.)
I suppose I'd also agree I have "a moral, intellectual, artistic and social voice of conscience". The plight of our world hurts me almost physically, viscerally, sometimes. I really have no time for people without a social conscience. I suppose that's how Mommy raised me.
But apparently, this man has been "implanted" in 1972, and this without his consent. Or even his approval, agreement or acceptance. Quite apart from the fact that 1972 is of course before my time, I very much doubt I have been "implanted". But, who knows? You know what I always say: I know I've been abducted by aliens, because I don't remember it at all. This could be a similar thing. How does one know whether one has been implanted?