Two truths and a lie

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The Wolfman misses everybody

1. I’ve had 3 cars stolen from me, 2 in one year.

2. I once drove about 1000 miles with a hole in the radiator.

3. I’ve leases 3 cars, two have been successfully completed.

Mine were all true, apart from the objects stated in my airport shopping sprees. I hate shopping all together but sometimes at airports I do end up buying hugely unnecessary and odd objects. But I have never ever bought a handbag. It is a very strange object to me who has to have "emergency" snacks, books, clay, colouring stuff and so on and so on for a troupe of people at a moment's notice.

Maybe you haven't had 3 cars stolen? Maybe more....?

1. My favourite colour has always been blue.
2. I never ever wear purple clothes. In fact I hate purple.
3. I sleep in a room with a tomato red wall.

Ps. I have just been hockey stick shopping for my daughter. In the car she was thinking of what to name her stick. She decides on "Titania" and "tit" for short. I explained calling after her "you, forgot tit" the whole time might be a bit much. So she settled on caliban. It made me think of Isabella, as with the synesthesia she had to go through all the various colour mismatches between the stick and the possible names!

Correct. Only two cars have been stolen...but both in the same year.

Your lie is #3: tomato red is sensory overload city (at least in me).

Red happens to be my favorite color----but I can't stay in a red room very long. I love Baroque art....but I can't look at it for long. There was once a place called Tad's Steaks in NYC. It had Baroque decor. I loved the steaks and the decor---but I couldn't stay in the restaurant. Headache city!

1. I once wrote a poem to a woman on the subway. She was wearing a cloak like that which the French Lieutenant's Woman wore. I wrote in admiration of the cloak. She smiled at me, accepted the poem, but refused my request for a date.

2. I once saw a woman who was nice----but she had wires sticking out throughout the house--a very dangerous situation. She had two kids: one, about six years old, and the other approximately 15 months old. The six-year-old was in a "gifted" class. After she requested that I buy her a washing machine, I backed out of the relationship.

3. A woman who used to be a classical musical prodigy when she was a young child asked me if I wanted to live with her. I had to refuse, since I already had a girlfriend.

1. I think gender roles are vapid.

2. I'm happy that Mexico won against Germany yesterday morning

3. I try to do things before I'm ready.

Certainly #2

Yep. #3 is correct. This person actually asked me to live with her, thinking I was an "easygoing" guy. She was very pretty and smart---so I accepted. I lived with her about six months. After a while, she thought I was too "uptight" for not approving of her smoking pot, and not approving of her reciprocating the crush that a young boy of 14 had on her. So she threw me out.

I'm thinking #2. I just sense that would be out of character for you.

Still, I'd be shocked if EVERYBODY in medical school would be so squeamish.

The "Girl from Ipanema" is someone who just has a PRESENCE. She just walks to the beach, and everybody notices---but she doesn't notice anybody; she's just in her own world.

I suspect Isabella has a similar PRESENCE.

I guess the bossa nova-type music enhances the impression, too. If you watch the video of the song, you'll see Stan Getz playing the Sax portions----he seems enraptured with it all. He and the lady singer actually had a long-term affair.

1. My mother went to the same high school with Eydie Gorme, the singer who sung about "Blaming the Bossa Nova." She was about three years ahead of my mother, though---and they never met.

2. My mother had to drop out of high school to work in the post office in order to support her mother.

3. My mother was able to get her Bachelor's Degree in 1967, while raising a neurotypical boy and an autistic younger boy.

On a morning from a Bogart movie
In a country where they turn back time
You go strolling through the crowd like Peter Lorre
Contemplating a crime
She comes out of the sun in a silk dress running
Like a watercolor in the rain
Don't bother asking for explanations
She'll just tell you that she came
In the year of the cat
She doesn't give you time for questions
As she locks up your arm in hers
And you follow 'till your sense of which direction
Completely disappears
By the blue tiled walls near the market stalls
There's a hidden door she leads you to
These days, she says, I feel my life
Just like a river running through
The year of the cat
While she looks at you so cooly
And her eyes shine like the moon in the sea
She comes in incense and patchouli
So you take her, to find what's waiting inside
The year of the cat
Well morning comes and you're still with her
And the bus and the tourists are gone
And you've thrown away your choice you've lost your ticket
So you have to stay on
But the drum-beat strains of the night remain
In the rhythm of the new-born day
You know sometime you're bound to leave her
But for now you're going to stay
In the year of the cat
Year of the cat

^^ I really love that song.

Yep. I see that, too. She is complex like that.

But I also see the outer blasé-ness hiding the Maelstrom within.

Maybe a composite of both?