I can't believe it's been a year since I made an entry here. Guess I've been too busy with my other blogs and what not.

So what has happened since November 2005?

I remember October 2005 as a long month when KC and I didn't talk. She was too busy working in Salem. Well, at least that's what it appeared to be on the surface. She also was pissed off with me because one of our friends was drunk at the ol' karaoke bar and wanted to hit on me. I didn't cheat or anything like that. I did find the whole situation amusing though, and told KC right away, thinking she'd find it amusing too. But apparently not. Thanksgiving came and I spent it with her. We both loved the sin of gluttony, and she'd been longing to make her special pies.

December 2005 was the usual routine. Finish work, fly down to see the parents. Then after a few days I'm reminded that as much as my parents and I love each other, we really can't stand each other when pent up in the same one-level house for over 72 hours. My always-broke brother pays me back for the airline ticket months later.

And 2006? It's been quite a year. Another karaoke contest came and went, with somebody else as a winner. And the bastards still haven't given me the tape of the performance like they promised.

I celebrated my 31st birthday right here, not in Las Vegas like my 30th. George Carlin was playing in town that weekend, so KC and I celebrated my birthday in town. Crazy yet elegant pork dinners. Coffee. Wild sexual happenings in my parked car in the parking garage. Great birthday, as "The highest of all Satanic holidays" should be.

The next month we go to New York City to celebrate hers. She'd barely traveled in her life, but absolutely fell in love with NYC. We stay at our friend's creepy house, then I get a hotel the next night right in Manhattan for $400 a night. We managed to do a lot in just a day and a half there: Empire State, J&H's, The Palm (my first time eating there since '94...still incredible), horse ride in central park, and other assorted adventures.

I get KC the item that's her ultimate (un)holy grail: the Playgirl magazine issue featuring Peter Steele. It doesn't arrive on Valentine's day, and in fact got lost in the mail for quite some time. Was I out $100? Fortunately it came through, unharmed, though the mailing label clearly had water damage. We go to the gay bar where we met (yeah, I still laugh at that fact) on karaoke night. I go every week, but it's her first time there in months. We exchange gifts at the microphone. She's estatic about the magazine. We sing songs to each other. Well, at least I did; she just sang the songs she usually sings. I choose Chicago's "Beginnings" for one of the songs.

Walpurgisnacht comes (that's April 30th for you non-witchy folks), I wake up to a phone call from KC. She's dumping me.

This ends my life's 4th relationship, and one of only 4 that lasted over a year. Why? I don't think there's any simple answer. We both knew from day one that this wasn't going to last forever. For one, she has a 6 year-old daughter, and although the girl still sees her father every other weekend and knows full well that I'm not a replacement for him, the bottom line is that if you're a man in a mother's life you're inevitably going to be some kind of father figure role. So the break-up was pretty much mutual. If KC didn't do the official dumping, then I probably would have done it myself sooner. Neither of us have regrets about hooking up in the first place. We part on good terms. I spend the rest of the night taping my friend's radio show and calling in.

I have my sights now set on June. This would be the trip everybody was anticipating. June 6th 2006 means "6/6/06". And the Church of Satan was holding a "High Mass" in L.A., with a strictly limited number of tickets sold only on one private website to COS members and their spouses. This is quite a big deal, because it's not in our nature to do gatherings like this for various reasons (security, the emphasis on privatized ritual, the fact we're a cabal and not a social club, etc.) I'm also invited to a private gathering for hierarchy members. "That's strange," I thought, "because I'm not in the hierarchy. I'm only an active member."

But sure enough I get a package in the mail, with a note saying "We tried to send this out to you earlier, but the package returned worse for the wear." Sure enough, there it is! The Church has granted me the second degree title, "Warlock". Titles in the Church of Satan are not given out on the basis of who you know, how well you ritualize, or how many things you memorize. No, they're given out on the basis of recognized accomplishments in the real-world. I'm flattered beyond words, even if way, way, back in the deepest reigions in my mind I'm thinking "Well it's about time!" I'm complemented left and right by fellow members. The best complements were along the lines of "Congratualtions, but I'm not surprised. Your title is well-earned."

So I go to L.A., where I meet up with some of the usual gang, and meet a whole lot more. One of the greatest joys in the world is when you meet somebody whose work you greatly admire, only to find out that they admire your own work equally. I met so many members: Witches, Warlocks, Priests, Priestesses, Magisters, and Magistras. And none of them talked down to me. Nobody was pretentious. Their actions and ego stability showed that they earned those titles for being the talented and dynamic individuals that they were. And the L.A. events were nothing short of astounding. I made true friends with people who, even after knowing them for one night, felt like we'd known each other for years. That was a week that I'll always remember and treasure.

I'm sitting in the hotel lobby on June 7th, and my ex-manager ("The School Teacher") calls me on my cellphone. She informs me that my boss is quitting. And he will have already left by the time I get back. I thank her for informing me. Interesting that I was thinking about my career the night before, during the mass. As Arsenio Hall said, "These are the kinds of things that make you go, 'Hmm...'".

I also run into K that week. It takes me a second to recognize her. But I remember her all too well. We met at a Satanic wedding in St. Louis a few years back, where we had talked for a long time. Brains, body, AND finally the same religion as me. Was this a match made in...well, you know? And here she was at the 6/5 party. We go to an after party together. We make out. She spends the night in my room. Unfortunately I let my friend crash in the next bed over, so we don't get it on as much as we'd like.

I talk to K in the weeks that follow. Finally I go out to New Orleans to see her. New Orleans was great, and I realize the pressure she has in trying to entertain a guest. But I got to jump in with a live band off of Bourbon St., go on a swamp buggy ride, and a number of other little things in only 2 days. But as far as things went between her and I, it was a disaster. I'm a little disappointed to fly 1500 miles and have this woman tell me that I'm too "touchy feely". There's technically no reason why she was required to sleep with me, but I DID feel extrememly led-on. Come to think of it though, the conversations were never even great, which should have been a sign. It felt like two monologues when talking, not a dialogue. She'd never laugh at my jokes. In the end, she was really no different from those man-fearing women at engineering collage. My favorte line of that weekend: I held up a fork full of desert to her in the restaurant and she said "What the hell are you doing? [her]" "Feeding you. Geesh, I was just being flirty." "I'm an independent woman. I can feed myself? Do you do that with your male friends?" "No, but I don't lick their genitals either, and you didn't complain about me doing THAT last night."

While walking the dark, humid streets of New Orleans that July, I find some Tarot readers in the park. My head is spinning: things with K are nasty, I'm really hating my job, and I'm still in this frustrative point with my music where creativity is desperately crying to be let out. So I go for a reading. I get "The Fool" and "The Tower". The reader tells me that I might need a complete career make-over. Something big will happen in October, she says.

[continued in part 2]