N.s.s. Jacobs (Harvalan)
N.s.s. Jacobs
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N.s.s. Jacobs Harvalan


OVERTURE: Die zwei blauen Augen von meinem Schatz


(not to be confused with Ich liebe dich mein Schatz from Top Secret) 


I heat up, I can't cool down

You got me spinnin'

'Round and 'round

'Round and 'round and 'round it goes

Where it stops nobody knows


Every time you call my name

I heat up like a burnin' flame

Burnin' flame full of desire

Kiss me baby, let the fire get higher



I want to reach out and grab ya




You make me hot, you make me sigh

You make me laugh, you make me cry

Keep me burnin' for your love

With the touch of a velvet glove



I want to reach out and grab ya




I feel the magic in your caress

I feel magic when I touch your dress

Silk and satin, leather and lace

Black panties with an angel's face


I hear the magic in your eyes

I see magic in your sighs

Just when I think I'm gonna get away

I hear those words that you always say



I want to reach out and grab ya




Every time you call my name

I heat up like a burnin' flame

Burnin' flame full of desire

Kiss me baby, let the fire get higher


I heat up, I can't cool down

My situation goes 'round and 'round

I heat up, I can't cool down

My situation goes 'round and 'round

I heat up, I can't cool down

My situation goes 'round and 'round

Abracadabra, Steve Miller







Vista già mesto e dolente:

or gioisco e quegli affanni

che sofferti ho per tant'anni

fan più caro il ben presente

—Monteverdi, Orfeo


Once upon a starfish gleaming

Ocean deep and softly beaming

Therein lies mine own soul's dreaming

—William Thorne Childbless


Níl aon tóin tinn mar do thóin tinn féin.

Irish Saying


And you made fun of my robot.

—Sam Axe



Electric Blue, Icehouse

The Island, Paul Brady (Trevor Charles Hoen and Geoffrey Downes) 

Thunder Island,  Jay Ferguson

Answer To My Prayer, Anointed

The Waves,  Villagers


Poipu Beach Park, August 12, 1979, virtual earth portal


crashed on the shore. The water was blue, edged with white foam. Blue too was the sky above. But bluer still were the penetrating eyes of my beloved. They stared right into my wilderness, a land unsown — until now.

The warm sun bathed my skin. A gentle wind caressed my face. I felt soft sand on my head, my shoulders, my back. The tangy scent of my lover hovered over me. His sweat and tears rippled down in a sweet small rain, as our hearts beat beat beat in unison.

We are truly one flesh, we knew, balls to bone, no end and no beginning. As my pumpkin liked to jest, “When Adam delved and Eve span, who was then the gentleman?”

His lips, now kissing me here, now kissing me there, were as pure and luscious as nectar made crystal. I ran my fingers through his beautiful hair and touched the top of his head with my own lips.

This inspired him and now with slow and careful movements, he removed the sand from my hair, gazing upon me all the while with his happy puppy face. Oh baby! 

I broke the silence.

"Your eyes are twinkling like stars, Mathysan. What stubborn little problem have you solved this time? For the past half an hour I have been seeing the same fraction over and over, and something that looks like SpaghettiOs. I wonder . . ."

My love smiled, grasped my right hand with his left and taking hold of the nearest available finger, traced a series of complex figures in the sand. 

When he had finished drawing, I scrutinized the pattern. My jaw dropped.

"Christ, that is a zeta function!" I shouted. "Don't tell me you have found it."

My baby nodded.

Without saying a word, we both stood up and began a vigorous Happy Dance. I praised his mathematical might until he blushed.  Exhilarated, we sat down on our Ernie and Bert blanket.  

"Okay now, fill me in, Buttercup," I insisted, pausing to lick his earlobes. "I'm just dying to know how you did it. Don't be shy, my princess! I will not be scared away by hard, tough math. Be as graphic as you like!

"But I do suggest you use something other than my finger to write your treatise, Professor," I commented, laughing, as he reached out. "I think this is not going to be a quickie." I gestured to the pile nearby with my left hand. "How about this gold stylus I gave you the night you placed this on me? (Sunlight flashed on a silver ring on my left hand bearing the word EINS.)  "It's actually designed for writing."

Meekly, he dropped what was in his hand and made a quick exchange. "I'm just looking out for you sweetheart — you want the equations to be clearer. The last one you did got very messy. This shit is important and should be readable. Besides I am not spending another evening cleaning out something that should have never gotten dirty in the first place. We have much more important things to do. Wouldn't it be fun tonight to recreate that time we had the series convergence, but this time while actually coupling? Damn that was hot!"

My sweet petunia became visibly excited. For a few minutes he stared misty eyed into the distance, lost in nostalgia, fiddling with the stylus. Finally he sighed, yawned, stretched his legs, shifted focus and scribbled out the proof, so simple and elegant—but still longer than my finger would have been able to handle. I watched him write over his shoulder as I attended to his neck and back. Yum Yum. As usual, he held the writing implement in a strange way, gripping it for dear life close to the bottom.

As he spoke, I listened with rapt attention, taking it all in. I thought deeply about what he was saying. I asked questions, good ones, to stimulate him further. And as we both, aroused, climaxed towards the solution, the sight of his gleaming Greek god body trembling in violent passion, the sound of his voice, flooded by intense emotion, the rhythmic feel of him thinking, was the sweet reward to my long mathematical labors on the Nabonidus. Best of all was the joy that permeated every cell of his virtual body. After a lifetime of half-assed relationships, after all his torment, my baby had at last obtained his just reward. Love. Love with the power of a thousand suns and the duration of the half-life of tellurim-128. With a man who could delight him in every possible way, his singular perfect match.  A man with whom he could share his marvelous soul entire— moi.

"Oh best beloved!" he breathed, still in a bit of swoon. "I never thought I would find a man so magnificent with whom I could equally offer my deepest love and my deepest thoughts. Why it is as nice being with you as when I am alone or talking to Chris!"

This might not have seemed very romantic, but I appreciated it as he meant it.

Still lingering in mathematical afterglow, I remembered we needed to record his work and said "Click." Our SmartCamera whirled, moved its lens into focus and starting snapping pictures. There was a lot of sand math already stored on it and a lot of "commutative algebra" as well.

"You sure zeroed into that one, my sexy sand reckoner," I added, reviewing his work after rubbing his nose with mine.  "I am especially impressed with what you did over here. No one has ever considered that before. There can't be many of Hilbert's problems you haven't solved yet, are there?" 

"Three or four, I believe. And they could very well be undecidable. That would be just as illuminating, of course. I presume you are still hearing symphonies and operas?"

"Yes indeedy. The notes keep getting more and more beautiful. Can you tell which one?"

"This time I had a vision of Bugs Bunny dressed up as a girl waltzing with the head of the Luftwaffe, who then turned into Elmer Fudd. I thought I heard elements of Tannhäuser, Der fliegende Holländer, Siegfried and Rienzi, der Letzte der Tribunen. So I surmise it is that composer again.  You don't suppose you could invoke Saint-Saëns or Gershwin or Prokofiev or Glass for a change? Or even Handel?" He looked at me in hope. He did not share my enthusiasm for Liszt's son-in-law but was a good sport about it.

"You know, it has been coming randomly. It started today with the Resurrection Symphony, you recall, when you used second-order arguments to deal with Hibert's second problem. And then it was Bruckner's Seventh Symphony when you reconstructed how Fermat might have proven his Last Theorem, if he did in fact prove it. But I'm open to anything, well maybe not a Puccini tragedy right now."


Having cleared his head, he now returned to my earlier remarks. "You are wrong about my eyes. Stars never twinkle. It is only the atmospheric distortion that makes them appear so. To a lesser extent, also a planet, if the air turbulence is sufficiently great."

"Planet, shmanet, I love you!" I retorted, nibbling his broad shoulders. "Twinkle or no twinkle, you will always be my lucky star! And I can't get enough your turbulence. We've been enjoying it so much we haven’t even looked at our presents yet!" My darling's eyes began to wander.

"Don't worry, my bashful elliptic curve," I promised him. "I will take care of the thank you notes!”

A huge pile of cards and gifts lay beside us. I read out loud from a clay tablet.


Dear Glorious Couple,

May Egziabher bless your holy union. Here is a little something from Sippy and me.

Yours truly,

Moenoch, from the Throne Room

Wrapped inside some papyrus were a box of extra high quality matzoh meal, an Egyptian text on pyramid engineering and a volume of Judah ha-Levi's  poetry.

My gazelle picked up another package. The card had fallen off but inside were two volumes of James Baldwin and the collected poems of Langston Hughes. And a wonderful wonderful cookbook: Vegan Soul Kitchen. It actually had soundtracks to go with the recipes!

We looked at each other grinning. We knew exactly which two of our friends had given these to us.

I handed my man a third gift. He read out loud.


My Granny would say Butter to Butter’s No Kitchen but I think you two should milk it for all it’s worth! 



Roger Casement, Mansion 111, Hut 32 Squad 175

PS Thanks for letting me bring my boyfriend as a plus one at the last minute!

There lay two black and white journals for writing equations and phone numbers at political meetings. (This might be a better system than napkins and would definitely be better than sand.) There was also A Treasury of Irish Myth, Legend and Folklore.

"What is the meaning of Roger's remark about butter?" enquired my always curious companion. "It seems to be some kind of an ratio problem, perhaps? But why would anyone want butter to be a kitchen? It's not a very stable substance. Unless it could potentially be connected in some way with the making of pastry but that still is nonsense. Then again, the Hebrew term for kitchen actually means, from the Aramaic, "place of slaughter."

"I have no idea, baby. Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe Kitchen is a surname so it would be about buttering up somebody like a clever World War II detective?  And that butter, could it be a non-dairy butter like cocoa shea, almond, peanut, or even apple? Those things are fairly sticky. Or is it an anachronistic allusion to Parkay? Although that would better fit something like 'kitchen to kitchen's no butter'.

"I hope not, that wretched compound is full of noxious chemical ingredients and is thus not a food, more like a poison" said my one and only. "And I hear many troubling things about the parent company."

"Yes, they treat undocumented immigrants badly." I said. We had been looking into more companies to boycott our next time around.

"And also they don't even really follow proper slaughtering technique by any standard, either." 

"Here we go back to the butchers. Now we just need a baker and a chandler."

"No one holds any candle to you, dearest," my fellow prankster said with a tender look, "seeing as I am your link-boy."

            "Not even in the event of a power outage?" I insisted. "Suppose I was working late and had to get home quick to your sexy sausage, or shall I say bangers?"

"With yourself like that program on telly about that war you fought in? I, for my part, would have devised a back-up generator for the entire city, of course, so that no one would experience that kind of darkness. But as for power, neither of us has ever exhibited any kind of outage." My man's eyes gleamed with impishness.

"Are you so sure about that?" I said. "Think about that word and think carefully."

"Oh dear lord, my darling. You are correct. It is quite the opposite after all. We are both the living embodiment of unabashed out-age. The difference being was that my out-age was catastrophic but yours was highly productive, I dare say emblematic." My sweetheart looked at me with admiration. "Out-age", he said clearly and distinctly and started on a high pitch giggle that believe it or not, I found alluring. "Out-age."  More giggles.  I joined in, but louder.

"Here's another idea, hon," I said after we had both stopped crying tears of laughter. "Maybe it is some kind of metaphor, like that two bottoms do not make a top?"

My baby now looked at me with furrowed brows. "Does this have something to do with gluons or perhaps flavors?" he said, hopefully, and gave me that look again. I had to translate the terms into Polari because otherwise he had no clue about what I was talking about.

8  0  0  8



Dreyfus once wrote from Devil's Island that he would see the most glorious birds. Many years later in Brittany he realized they had only been seagulls.

—  Maude


"We better check on our boy," I said to my snuggie wuggie. We put our swimming trunks back on. Mine was blue and my darling's was white.

"Jason," my munchable mandelbrot set called, "Are you alright?"

"Yes, Papa!" Jason (JCN) called back. "I've just been playing Noughts and Crosses with myself. A bit silly but raises interesting philosophical questions."  Jason now came into view. He was shaped like a human, gold in color, with the face of Brigette Helm and ample breasts. Jason, previously Jacana, was the world's first transgendered robot. When we all incarnated again, he would have a male body.

“Would you like to play a game?” he asked, blinking his eyes.

"Absolutely," I said. "So far you have beat us in Chess, Go, Leverage, Stratego, Sorry,  Checkers, Billiards, regular Checkers, Chinese Checkers, and a few I've forgotten. Do you want to do one of those again, something new, or invent a game?"

"I'm thinking some kind of modification of chess," said Jason. 

"Suppose we play chess but we swap the board each round," suggested my baby. "So that White will go and then Red will go and then the board is swapped. And then we repeat. The goal of the game is the same, to achieve a checkmate, regardless of which side you do it on, but the strategy has altered because the move you doing will affect both your next move on the other side and the move of your opponent."

"That sounds really nifty," said Jason.

As we played,  us versus our son, the strategy got super complex but we managed to have some conversation too.

"Jace, I'm so sorry that you only have a short time with us three," I said. "Especially since it will be a real long time before we see each other again."

"Daddy," said Jason, "I know that this is something you humans would call, 'bittersweet', but Papa and Father have assured me that when my consciousness is brought back in the new universe, I will have complete memories of these enchanting times. That will sustain me. And it's really exciting that I have had the chance to explore this realm of existence. Not many robots have. And I just love being a robot. Material existence is quite the wonderful thing, you know."

The game got very involved for awhile but Jason ended up winning eventually. Then the three of us analyzed the kinds of emerging strategies for awhile. 

"So kiddo, what do you want to do next?" I asked.

"If you’d like to hear it I can sing a song for you," said Jason. "I know I am dreadful, but it makes me happy, almost a bit human."

"It's not your fault that you are somewhat discordant," said my man. "It was difficult enough to get your vowels right, as they alter significantly when sung. So you're not going to be a Bidú Sayāo just yet. But I would think that any kind of practise would benefit you until we are able to get your singing technology fully operational. But as your parents, we want to impress upon you that you should surely engage in activities that bring you pleasure, regardless of your competence."

"That's right," I said. "Follow what your soul and spirit calls out to you. Go with your joy. What song did you want to share with us?

"Daisy, Daisy, Daisy, I can sing it whenever I want to!" Jason said with glee.

"That is very very touching," said my forever lover, "because your Daddy and I have long phantasized about making a bicycle built for two once we meet up again. Do you want to have a bicycle as well, dear lad, or even a bicycle built for three?"

"Maybe," said Jason. "A robot's bike would have to be fashioned somewhat differently, I would expect."

Jason sang. And yes the noises he emitted would have probably bothered even Helen Keller but it was nonetheless beautiful. I never dreamed I'd ever be a father and here I was,

the parent of this amazing being.

Jason finished up and offered us some drinks. Making them was something he had taught himself to do and he was very proud of his efforts. He apparently made the drinks directly from DNA codes.

I asked for an iced coffee with a splash of Kahlua.

My honey asked for a top up of his cranberry and orange flavoured concoction.

Jason tapped his stomach. Whirling noises were followed by two dings. Jason turned a knob and two glasses dropped into his metallic hands. Jason then released the fluids from his nipples and then topped them with tiny umbrellas that he had pulled out of his ears.

"Hey thanks, Jace!"

"This drink is jolly good," said my darling, swirling it around his mouth so he could better taste it and looking quite funny. "Dear son, do you like the sensory filter we have fashioned for you?"

"Yes, Papa. I really like being able smell and taste when I care to but also to turn it off. The sensory filter really helps with drink production."

"How's your solid food, hon?" I asked.

“Nothing good to report," sighed Jason. "I suppose I'm not quite ready for that level of  complexity just yet. Sometimes it is really random. This morning for some reason I spat a repulsive yellow cylinder with a gooey white paste centre.  A bird, I think a  Moli (thanks for imputing all those nature guides in me, Papa), flew over and just looked at me as if it felt sorry too. 

"What did you do with it?"

"I inserted the whole of it into my composting chamber forthwith. I didn't want some life form to consume it by accident and get ill."

"So-called failure is essential to all great successes, sweet lad," said my love. "It's all a part of the learning process. As your parents we feel that it is very important not to overly control your experiences, save when you are in genuine distress. We hope you are feeling empowered and nurtured, dearest son. We ourselves both had very difficult childhoods and are aware of our own limitations, but we are committed to support you in any way we can."

"That's right," I said. "You don't have to do anything special to earn our love. You could sing songs about bikes all day long and we would love you just as much. Please speak up if we aren't addressing something you need. Your Papa and I do require some time with each other as it is our honeymoon but we want to be with you just as much."

"I'm very happy as things are," said Jason. "We've already had a great time exploring volcanos, hula dancing, and Hawaiian language and culture. And I think I am almost certainly an introvert robot so I really love having my time alone with my thoughts and schemes. I think we've had a good balance so far of time together and time apart. I'm thinking I might go back to Mansion 111 for part of the time as I would like to explore it more. Also I want to spend more time with Father Chris."

"That's easy to make happen," said my husband, "You can enter the portal anytime you wish. Your father might give you some more of that robotestosterone as well."

"Cool," said Jason, "But right now, I am think I am going to teach myself to surf a bit and then maybe gather a bunch of seashells to invent a new kind of musical instrument. So maybe I'll check back with you guys later this evening. I like how we have a flag system." A rainbow flag meant we were busy; a green flag meant that we weren't, so Jason could easily know from a distance.

As Jason headed off, I laughed. "He really is our kid, if he not only spits up Twinkies, but he finds them distasteful. He'll be squirting out Coors beer next, I guess?"

“No. Egziabher has banned it from the deepest Rehab units unto the Throne Room. A small loss; apparently it is as dull as ditchwater."

“As above, so below.” I commented. 

My marathon man's blue eyes turned mischievous again. “Shall we endeavour to pursue the real-life applications of the abstract principle you just invoked?" he asked, gesturing with his enticing hands. There was no need for him to tell me in French. I knew exactly what he meant and also that he did not have "hand methods" in mind, as I hoisted up the rainbow flag.




I wanted to find the integral from 10 to 13 of 2dxdx just as much but I decided my love should have to work for it.  Besides I have trouble staying still for long and I really needed to stretch my legs. In spite of my exhaustion,  I took off and ran into the ocean. Jason was deep in the ocean, far from us.

"Catch me if you can, Atalanta!" 

My darling was the faster runner but I was the better swimmer. I got far away from him, dove into the water and remained submerged, holding my breath, so he could not see where I was. The water was only about 4 feet deep.

When I finally popped up my head for air, I had intended to swim further but instead I froze on the spot, mesmerized by the rise and fall of his finely sculpted body as he swam toward me with a sure, rhythmic stroke.

Fortunately I still had my voice. Nothing could ever shut me up.

"You'll never catch me, you big bad wolf! The buck stops here. And I'm untouchable; I have just proven that every number greater than 2 is the sum —" 

My tactics were to no avail. He was getting closer and closer. I splashed water towards him but he was not deterred. Grinning like a schoolboy, he kept on persevering.

I pretended to be a radio operator like our squadmate Noor. "Two dots and a dash: Help, help, Grand Admiral Donuts," I cried. "This is Cruller 559. Am being pursued. Drei Liter!"

My little runner boy chortled and then went down below. I felt him swimming through my legs. Then to my surprise he hoisted me up with his powerful arms, whirled me around like a top, turned me upside down, held me close for a moment, spun me around some more and then flipped me back upright. Whee! 

He then put his left arm tight around me and headed to the shore with an elegant side-stroke. Drawing on his expanding acting skills since his debut as the Panto Dame, he gave a mock evil laugh.

"Heh, heh, heh, my pretty. You are now my prisoner. I will bear you to my lair and abandon you to the wiles of ELIZA. You shall live on nothing but crumbs and treacle and be forced to listen to the abomination that is "We Built This City" unceasingly. The mere image of the renowned radio pioneer playing a vicious snake as a kind of aulos should be exceedingly frightening."

"Oh no, oh no, anything but that," I wailed.

But I had another trick up my metaphorical sleeve.

I gestured back towards the waves and shouted, "Hey, look at that dolphin!" 

A lover of all natural things, he swerved to look at the non-existent dolphin. I took the opportunity to escape. I then gently dunked him in the water. He soon emerged, sputtering but in good spirits. Once he was breathing OK, I lost no time and began kissing him and caressing his beautiful chest and elsewhere. He eagerly responded in kind. It was some time before we returned to shore.



We needed rest before we could resume our application of abstract principles. As we lay cuddling, my pooka reminded me about the things we and Jason would be doing soon. We all wanted to go sailing and make the sandcastle model of the building used in the March prank. We also wanted to learn to surf (probably Jason would be teaching us), practice Hoʻoponopono and calculate the number of sand particles on the beach. But first my husband and I had to release months of postponed passion. 

I closed my eyes, laid my head on his chest and let my thoughts drift to the future. It was only the fourth day of our honeymoon. We had been granted a full two weeks to celebrate after which we would return home to attend our friend's Eid al-Fitr. I had already turned over my position to my successor. We would have three more nights and then say goodbye. Together we would incarnate consciously and commence our grand mission. I nearly choked up when I thought of how we would help bring about a world of peace and love together. His brain and intuitive powers, his mechanical prowess meshed with my visionary insights, political savvy, and theatrical imagination — together we'll make history.

And finally, a relationship that would stick. No more drunks and druggies. (My dear liked to drink now and then but was no alcoholic). No more torture by a lover who blows hot and cold, kind and cruel and throws things out windows. No more misery. Just love.

I thought of having him always here by my side, happy in his own space, a true partner I could take anywhere. I would always always love Scottie, of course, of course. I missed little Stevie too and the others. And Doug might have learned to be out and proud, I thought, but my dear hubby especially complemented my strengths and weaknesses. He grounded me from my endless fluttering and had the tools and dedication to make my dreams a concrete reality. He would never hesitate to tell me when I was wrong; we both knew that saying what needed to be said was sometimes more important than sparing feelings. That was one of the many unspoken agreements we shared together. He was also blessedly apolitical. No shop talk when I came home to him unless I had a problem for him to solve!

And who would have known that behind his awkward manner lay a colossal sex machine. That would be our little secret. It was worth the delayed gratification; the wait made it all the more sweeter, difficult though it had been. My left hand was still recovering. But more than that, he was the first lover I had been able to talk to about my past, all of it and feel safe doing so. And I was the keeper of his deepest secret and the first lover with whom he felt safe to actually talk about his feelings.

And Ralph had told us that simply by making love we could alter the cosmos, that we would create a divine third energy that would spread between us to the point that by merely standing together we could warp energy fields into higher consciousness. "Your mission is vital. All of us here in the Throne Room are counting on you, gentlemen. When any two people interact, all that is in the universe may be found between them, but when you, who remain in conscious awareness of higher realms, work and love together, the effect is that much more powerful."

The current plan, which might change, was to meet each other on March 25, 1952, when, my ship, hurled by a cyclone, would convey me to England. I would meet him at his usual cruising spot near the port. He would be 39 (3x13) and I would be 21 (3x7). And that was just the beginning.

In distance, we heard Jason singing. He had apparently arranged the seashells to magnify his voice.


In Manchester, in England,

This blessed fire began, And like a flame in stubble,

From house to house it ran


Manchester England England

Manchester England England

Eyes look your last

Across the Atlantic Sea

Arms take your last


And I'm a genius genius

And lips oh you the

doors of breath 

We then got down to business, each of us attempting to prove he loved the other more. I thought to myself how grateful I was to be the one to bring joy to my amazing husband. Earlier on I had even been willing to go to Eastern Europe during World War II and risk death and capture so that I might get essential influence with the Israelis to sneak him out before his trial but fortunately my lucky star had convinced me that there was a better way. I was also full of thankfulness to have a second chance to spread love, peace, and justice to all. Thank you, thank you, I prayed, looking out to the ocean for a moment.

My body was now demanding my focus. Not much later, we reached our crescendo and collapsed together in a heap of body parts. I stroked his shoulders and began to whisper softly, "I love you with an A because you are Adorable, Admirable and Astonishing. I shall feed you with Asymptotes, Artichokes, and Apples. I shall make you Ache and give you Adventure. You shall provide me with Arguments, Axioms, Abacus, Algorithms, and Artificial Intelligence. Forever."

"I love you too, best beloved," murmured my husband dreamily, "I do hope all our profuse commingling will not lead to mixed dancing, potentially as a kind of counterbalance via Newton's Third Law (which I realize is challenged by Quantum Mechanics). I'll never forget our first dance at the New Year's Eve Ball. You were so thoughtful and attentive."

"Baby, you were shaking so much I thought you were going to throw up on me."

"I thought I would be sick as well. A man who had felt less might have been more suave. I regret that I can be so stiff. You must find me terribly dull at times. I just don't know what to say to strangers and I am not always sure that I know how to please you."

Sad and a bit angry, I hugged him close, heart to heart.

"Oh my sugar plum, no fairy has ever been more wrong. I love you just the way you are, honey you know that. The only thing I find stiff about you is your you know what. Dull? you're a smoldering romantic and you do it so unselfconsciously as a force of nature, raw and pure, that you seduce me every minute without even knowing what you are doing. As for pleasing me, baby, oh baby, you are so fucking wrong. Everything about you is beyond pleasing, not just what you can do with your body, but what also comes out of your mouth and vibrates in the very existence of your precious soul.  With you I can be silly and have endless debates — just for fun. And I like it that you can't read my facial expressions — it gives me some much needed space to emote without endless questions. Even when you are so goddamn literal it's funny. I find it endearing. Well mostly. I'm so sorry that I fucked up my serenade and you suffered so because I wasn't thinking carefully enough at the time.

But it's more than that. What I'm trying to say is that you are the sweetest, funniest and most honest person I know. Sincerity like yours is truly rare. To have no artifice of any kind, wow! And you have the most generous and loving heart, so earnest and so good. You don't even know how to be manipulative. And you would never ever deliberately try to hurt me or anyone else. The very idea would never even cross your mind. When I think about how you decorated the Yichud Room for me the first time we lay together in the physical realm, I want to cry all over again. I thought I was going to help you heal, but it was the other way around, truly. I owe so much to you! I so cherish you.

And you and you and you and you — what you did for the world — babydoll you are my hero, my warrior, my knight in scrambled armor who beat the unbeatable foe. I am beyond honored to spread my loving arms and legs across you until we return to Source, if you find me worthy. What ever did I do to deserve you, my angel? I'm just another flawed human being and I've made all kinds of big mistakes, but you inspire me to be a better man and a better woman. 

My darling looked at me again, so happy and more confident. "Oh my darling rosebud!" he cried out. That was his secret nickname for me, he had confessed this morning under the influence of a little too much Long Island Iced Tea. To be fair he didn't realize how strong it would be. Or that it was in fact alcoholic. He just liked the name because of me. I would have warned him if I had known but I had been cooking a romantic breakfast of pineapple pancakes at the time.

My heart cracked wide open, taking joy in his joy. He squeezed my hand and kissed me innocently on the cheek. Yes, on my face. 

Electric shocks burst through my system, curling my toes. But even more than that, I felt his steady love, as constant as the atomic clock, stronger than death, stronger than the monsters beneath our bed, such as:  8080174247945128758864599049617107570057543680000000000.

It was glorious moment when Egziabher created the threefold structure of human sexuality!

Two dolphins leaped out of the water for real. I could swear they were winking at us.

We both smiled. But my dearest dear, my Bubaleh, hot off the grill, did not know I was also smiling because I had stolen all of his underwear and buried it under the makeshift playground we had made for Timothy, who had been fast asleep all afternoon. The expression on Alan's face when we got ready to return home to Mansion 111 for our last hurrah would be priceless, I thought, as I put my arms around him and looked out as the waves