There's a woman who does title examining at the registry of deeds in Cambridge that I've had a mini, almost entirely lustful, crush on for the last couple of years. Other than one short interaction we had about a year ago, I'm pretty sure she's not aware of or, at the very least stimulated in some way by, my presence at the registry.
While I was there earlier today, my gaze returned to her again and again as if by some magnetic pull and, unless she's masterfully surreptitious, she never once lifted her eyes in my direction. It's always like that and it doesn't really bother me; in fact I find it slightly amusing that she's so (seemingly) oblivious to the attention I'm paying her. In a way it makes me desire her more, similar to the way Seinfeld's George Costanza pined over a woman who hated him. Ha!
Anyway, it also got me thinking: Do I have someone lusting over me that I'm unaware of? Considering how suave and macho and pure-hearted I am, the answer to that question is most certainly yes, but perhaps I'll never know for sure.
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The Princess Puppy Baby doesn't play like Pooch Edward Bottoms or other dogs I've known that love to devour squeaky toys, go at it with the pull toy, or engage in other rough house activities. She has her moments, though. As I was typing the last paragraph, she walked over to me and barked and then spazzed out for several seconds, which she does every so often when she's feeling frisky. Realizing she needed some stimulation, I got up and went into the bedroom and liberated her unfinished rawhide bone from under the bed and gave it to her. It was the right move: she's now chomping away merrily at it in the corner. I like it when I can help a pal out.
We went for a walk in the park by the Zakim bridge after work today. On one of the scenic side paths, I spotted a guy in sunglasses about thirty feet behind us emerge from another path. As Missy stuffed her head in the vegetation and sniffed away, I saw the guy put on a pair of blue latex gloves as he made his way toward us. So of course I was spooked and casually tried to wrest Missy from her olfactory reverie so that we could vamoose. She wasn't having it initially, but when she finally did snap out of it, she decided to walk back towards this potential psycho. No way, son, I thought, and insistently prodded her away. There wasn't anyone else around at that time and I wasn't ready to subject us to any of the thousand awful things that guy was going to do to us that my imagination conjured. So we split. I have no idea what that was about, but what's with the fucking gloves!
Started watching The Story of Film series on Netflix. I'm about three episodes in and it's so effin' good. It covers just about every aspect of film, from the business end to its artistic components. Just made it out of the silent era. We're heading into the talkies, folks.
I was reading from Frazer's The Golden Bough: A Study In Magic And Religion at lunch today and learned about the Corn God, which manifested all across Europe as different animals. I think it was in Germany that it was represented as a cock and once the reaping of the corn was done, a wagon with a wooden emblem of a cock on its side would be brought to a farmer who would take the emblem in exchange for an actual cock, which the villagers would then kill in various ways which included whipping or burying it up to its neck and then then lopping its head off with a scythe. I hope that tradition has been toned down significantly.
There's a new Big Three podcast to listen to. I think this one's going to be a blockbuster judging by the previews. Perry's meeting with The System will be recounted and I think Tom Brennan and John Quincy Adams are going to tie the knot. Color me excited!
Well, it's about time to take Missy D out for her night walk. I really hope we don't run into the glove guy, but if we do I'm sure Missy D will protect me.
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