Nostalgia

You are writing fast and furious as usual. But before talking about nostalgia, something just came up on the news. Another lustful CEO got shot down for getting involved with a woman who was not his wife. When will all those stupid boys ever learn that women are dangerous to men with money? They don't love you. They just love your fucking (pun intended)money, but no, you convinced yourself that you are good, that you are handsome and virile and all that shit, and women are falling for you left and right. But it turned out time and time again, the women got you to court and you had to cough up some cold cash to stay out of trouble. Chastised, you look at your dick in the middle of the night, alone in bed, and wonder if there is real love. Let me tell you, there is, but it takes place before the women turn 25, and with men at any age. Those bitches are just different from us, boys.

Anyway, back to nostalgia. Last night I was reading an old NGS magazine issue, dated way back to December, 1975, and flood of memories rushed back and almost choked me to death. My eyes were flooded with tears. I thought of her, of how I got to America in August, with a woman who was into games, but I was too stupid and naive to know. I recall I arrived in Los Angeles Aiport, the LAX, in the afternoon, around 5 pm. I got processed and driven to a Marine base for further processing. I looked at the land and I heard the language. This was not the first time I set foot on America. I had been here before, at the tender age of 17 when my command of the language was raw and unpolished and unidiomatic, but I could get by. I reminded myself that hot afternoon in August when the sweltering heat still lingered on and didn't even begin to dissipate, that I was older, better educated and could start a new life without much difficulty, but I had to be sure of there was love which somehow seemed tenuous and slippery. My instinctive feeling proved to be correct, the woman became who she really was. I endured, but the bitterness never left me despite twenty plus women came after her. Meanwhile I managed to feed myself and made myself fairly respectable in society. Meanwhile the void got bigger with each passing day until one day, I don't quite remember when, it engulfed ne and drowned me and sucked me into its vortex of sorrow. As I was leafing through the magazine and looked at the ads of cars and TVs, I shuddered and cried some more for my naïveté. Thirty five years came and went just like that, in a flash. All of the sudden, I realized how lonely, how achingly lonely, I had been.

(to be continued)