What the fodder?

My world is defined as eclectic. How I dress, how I speak, what I do, who I associate with. I unconsciously make way too many list (but dont' tell anyone). I get excited about people who bring excitement into my life, but like skunks, are elusive and hard to find when you want a nice musky encounter. I like variety and someone to keep me on my toes. But, my dream is to know someone who consistently can give me the same giggle and awe yet I am beginning to doubt such a person exist. I have been that for another (I am told), but to know one myself..(?) Always for a little while, never for a long while (maybe they drop dead on me?). Reminds me of a cleaver Irish bloke who exchange 1-2 sentence correspondence with me for 2-3 yrs. I looked forward to his measly sentences. Like the line in a fortune cookie, I would send him my thoughts...and crack "...his reply". I would close the mail with a deep satisfying sigh and ponder his few words for days. One day he wrote "I have a brain tumor". Nothing more...and a few mails later of no further indulged information...his mails ceased.

But, like most creatures, skunks (and other elusive creations), are unique and intriguing for the very reason that they are hard to pin down (aren't they). There are times I run into someone so very interesting who causes me to actually associate with them, play, exchange thoughts, words, deeds. Someone who actually captivates my imagination and giggles my heart. But, unless they are a figment of my imagination or a character in a book or movie, they will soon develop into a regular human being who seek socialization but actually reviles in independent isolation. (...have I just given myself away??). I am a steadfast hermit who lives with another for the sake of having another human being breath in my space. It is also nice to have two to pay bills and it gives me the indulged joy of sharing. I love to share. Even if its one piece of candy. My greatest joy would be to share a poor-boy (long sandwich) with someone on one end and me on the other. Please, not the same sex..not for me, not for this fantasy (I do dare).

As my mind ponders so many things, my fingers write only those selected few that I feel like placing in permanent print. Which reminds me of an exchange once with a Civil war re-enactor from Florida who introduced me to the shared story. We developed a bubbling monk mute and a tiny elf like brat. These two character would keep interrupting our correspondence with their wit, sauciness, or rank comments. This reminds me of an annoying starfish who also interrupted a lovely exchange between myself and another by clanking us on the head any time we strayed into areas too stimulating. The star fish was enduring in its own way (sigh). Exchanges that began with a skip and ended with a "duh". So back to skunks.
     I had a pet skunk once, raised from a baby. Oddly enough, their smell doesn't bother me (must be because I don't drink beer). And between the odd ciggy I partake of after dinner, I don't think that contributes to the fact that though I enjoy the company of skunks I can't ever get near one (well, except for the one baby I save many years ago).
    So, this post is a prattle of fodder. But, poignant in the undertones it has the prospect of revealing.

 While a pair of my knickers drift mysteriously within the sewers of London, I can't help but identify with those tossed knickers. White with little blue flowers. Bought on a whim, worn with a tickle, sent with Hersey chocolate, and tossed in a rush of embarrassment. Who knew knickers could have such an adventure?! I could go away to a monastery and ponder life on the encounters of those knickers. Ad they slowly desintergrate, I wonder-will they be recycled into drinking water? Or, find their way into the ocean. One day, while watching Animal planet I might see a rescue of a penguin who has white with blue flower knickers caught around its middle! What the fodder?