Shocking! A few Raw and Naked Facts About Sunstone!

[Sunstone]

That sounds like a fun place to grow up.

I have many fond memories of fun times, Brick. Mostly of laughing with my mother and brothers. We'd crack each other up just about anytime we were together.

I recall I didn't often think that town itself was all that fun: Small town yearnings for a bigger, more vibrant city, you know.

Then too, I was a bit of an outsider because my many and varied interests -- books, books, and more books -- were a bit unusual compared to most of my peers.

 

[Sunstone]

I saw once an eagle's courtship above a meadow
And the strange flight seemed an imposition
Of unusual order on the common use of wings.

But I knew the pair cartwheeled in some way
Back to when gravity was born
And forward beyond the last god.
That, too, astonished me.

 

[Terese]

Question! How long have you had the title of "uncle" in your life?

 

[Terese]

Special Sunstone Question: How much does your star sign reflect on your personality?

 

[Sunstone]

Question! How long have you had the title of "uncle" in your life?

Actually, since high school. It started with two cute girls, Sally and Sandra, who were freshmen when I was a junior. We had art class together for two years. I can't recall now when it was that the girls got it into their heads to sit in my lap each day before class started, but somehow they fell into that routine. A bit after that, they started calling me "Uncle Phil". That soon became my nickname with the whole school, and it followed me to university; so for a number of years I was "Uncle Phil".

 

[Sunstone]

Special Sunstone Question: How much does your star sign reflect on your personality?

Star sign? Is that like astrological sign? If so, that's not something I know much about. I'm not much into astrology and don't know what kind of personality traits the signs are associated with, darling.

However, I long ago used to tell people who asked me about my sign that I was born a Capricorn by had changed my birthday in order to make me an Aquarius because I liked that sign better. Oddly enough, I really ticked off a whole lot of the people I said that to!. "You can't do that Phil, you just can't!" "But I'm an American! I was born free. Of course I can!" Got into a lot of boring arguments back in the day.

 

[Terese]

Star sign? Is that like astrological sign? If so, that's not something I know much about. I'm not much into astrology and don't know what kind of personality traits the signs are associated with, darling.

However, I long ago used to tell people who asked me about my sign that I was born a Capricorn by had changed my birthday in order to make me an Aquarius because I liked that sign better. Oddly enough, I really ticked off a whole lot of the people I said that to!. "You can't do that Phil, you just can't!" "But I'm an American! I was born free. Of course I can!" Got into a lot of boring arguments back in the day.

Do you recall what you liked about the sign of Aquarius? Was it purely aesthetic? And they are right! Ya just can't do that Phil!

Actually, since high school. It started with two cute girls, Sally and Sandra, who were freshmen when I was a junior. We had art class together for two years. I can't recall now when it was that the girls got it into their heads to sit in my lap each day before class started, but somehow they fell into that routine. A bit after that, they started calling me "Uncle Phil". That soon became my nickname with the whole school, and it followed me to university; so for a number of years I was "Uncle Phil".

Were you called that by everyone? Was it embarrassing? Or was it a brooch of pride?

 

[Sunstone]

Do you recall what you liked about the sign of Aquarius? Was it purely aesthetic?

There was a song I grew up with and was rather fond of -- "Age of Aquarius". Can't stand the song now, but I loved it long ago. That's what I liked about the sign.

And they are right! Ya just can't do that Phil!

Nonsense! I'm an American, I tell you! I can change my birth date anytime I want. I know my rights!

Were you called that by everyone? Was it embarrassing? Or was it a brooch of pride?

Eventually, about half the folks in my high school called me "Uncle Phil". More or less only my friends at uni. And of course, I'm once again "Uncle Phil" these days -- to my nephews.

I was never embarrassed to be called that. I don't recall being proud of it either. It just was just funny to me, is all it was.

 

[beenherebeforeagain]

Shhhh! No one's supposed to know about that!

Seriously, there was an effort by the military a few years ago to close down the NORAD "war room" inside the mountain and move it to a nearby military base on the grounds that the facility was outdated. In the end, however, the effort was defeated by our local US Congressman and his friends. I don't now recall their reasoning for opposing the military's wishes in the matter.

The same reasoning they used to buy a fleet of extra bombers for which there was no base, no crews, no support staff, etc.

Probably, the area Reps thought that would be a safe place for them if war ever broke out...and they of course could trade votes for other nonsensical legislation...

 

[Koldo]

"Oooh fabulous! More neat Phil facts to blackmail you with!" -- @Terese upon hearing I have written an autobiographical thread.

He cried in a whisper at some image, at some vision--he cried out twice, a cry that was no more than a breath: "The horror! The horror!” -- Kurtz after reading my autobiographical thread.

"I like @Debater Slayer's thread better. He's actually interesting. Maybe you could learn some card tricks." -- @SalixIncendium

"Strange. Sunstone seemed such a nice man." -- @Vouthon

"Sunstone who?" -- @Rival

"Great thread, Phil! Thank you for posting it!"
"Really, @Sakeenah? You liked it? You really liked it? Oh how sweet of you to say so! Bless you!"
"Sure, Phil! I read it to my son last night. He was having trouble getting asleep. Knocked him right out! Great thread!"



​

Well, it's time to post another "Know Your Moderators" thread* since the last one I posted was about eleven or so years ago now. With that said, here are a few random facts about me:

I live along the Front Range of the Rockies, near Cheyenne Mountain, in Colorado (USA).

I love walking about the town, and I tend to walk at a fast pace.
Some of my other interests are:
painting (mostly acrylic portraits),
reading (mostly non-fiction science and history),
writing (mostly essays),
composing poetry (mostly a wee bit experimental),
tutoring (mostly @Terese),
and soaking nude in hot springs (mostly to the horror of any bystanders).

I paid my university room and board by working as a fire fighter.

When I was at university, I would now and then get drunk with a few friends and then, after the bars closed, climb to the roof of one or another multiple story building, where we'd dare each other to walk along the building's edge. Looking back now, that was one of the dumbest things that I have ever done more than once or twice in my life.

I once owned and operated a small business with 13 employees, including my ex-secretary, who I was especially fond of, in part because she taught me — better than anyone else in my life until then — that people with absolutely no intellectual interests could be lovely, wise and compassionate.

When I was 16, I hitchhiked around the Western United States, living on the streets of the cities I found myself in. At that time, I was one of four people I met who were 16 or younger. Nowadays, there are thousands of kids even younger than 16 living on the streets.

I didn’t figure out I’d married my first wife for her exceptionally good looks until after I was divorced — the obvious often escapes me.

My mother was the CEO of a small business for 30 years. Her company came to be recognized as a model for other businesses within its industry. My father died when I was two years old, but he had been an inventor, a manufacturer, and a portrait artist.

At university, I went an extra year and a half beyond the standard four years because there was just so much that I wanted to learn, and tuition was cheap back then. I took courses in all the major sciences (except chemistry), but I majored in philosophy and had a double minor in comparative religious studies and anthropology.

I was raised in a tiny Mid-Western American town of 2,000 people in which the dogs were allowed to vote in local elections on the theory they knew everyone in the community at least as well as anyone else.

A traumatic event when I was eight years old triggered childhood depression in me. Undiagnosed and untreated, it developed into a series of frequent adolescent and then adult depressive episodes that afflicted me on and off for most of my life. I finally got professional help and with that help brought the attacks under control. For the past dozen or so years, I've been virtually depression free and insufferably happy.

I had a nice little basement chemistry lab when I was a kid. I learned how to make gunpowder which I then often enough sold to other kids, or now and then set off at night in the yards of such adults as I or my best friend, Dennis, considered obnoxious.

My second marriage was to a brilliant, but abusive woman who herself had been abused as a child. After leaving her, I vowed not to pass along her abuse of me to anyone else by abusing them, and to live well, as my only revenge.

At thirty-seven, I lost nearly everything I owned within a short period of six months, including my business, my wife, my money, my home, and most everything else I’d built my self-identity on. Perhaps strangely enough, it felt like a huge burden had been lifted from me.

When I was young, I had an artistic bent and somehow managed to twice win adult art competitions for paintings I'd stolen from my elders had done -- once when I was eight, again when I was sixteen. But I gave up painting when I was eighteen, and only returned to it about six years ago. I figure it will take me at least another dozen years if I work at it before I get to where I want to be with my paintings.

When I moved to Colorado about 25 years ago, I had no inkling at all of the radical life-changes in store for me. Had someone described to me my future self when I was younger, I would not have easily recognized me.

I think of myself as having known in my life far more than my rightful share of fascinating people.
​

Thanks for reading! If you're interested, I've posted eight of my paintings, and six of my poems in places later on in this thread. Of the poems, "Majel" is my favorite.


Questions? Comments? Observations? Rose bouquets? Muddled rants? Nude selfies? Random solicitations for magazine subscriptions? All are welcome!


_______________________________________
FOOTNOTE: *I'm going to blame @Debater Slayer for this thread. Yesterday, he pointed out to some of us who were chatting with each other that a whole lot of new people have joined the Forum since the last time any of us put up a "Know Yer Mods" thread. Consequently, some of us have now been shamed into posting one of those threads.

If you don't mind me asking, how old are you ?
And no, you are free but you can't change your birthdate at will.

I've been dabbling in painting for about six years now. Here's some of my (admittedly amateur) art:

View attachment 20468 View attachment 20470 View attachment 20471 View attachment 20472 View attachment 20473 View attachment 20469View attachment 20474 View attachment 20476

I couldn't help but notice the same man is depicted twice.
Is that you ?? Did you reveal your true identity ? Am I Sherlock Holmes ?

 

[Sunstone]

If you don't mind me asking, how old are you ?

I don't mind telling you at all. I turned 61 in January, Koldo.

And no, you are free but you can't change your birthdate at will.

You'll be a hearin' from my lawyer about that!

I couldn't help but notice the same man is depicted twice.
Is that you ?? Did you reveal your true identity ? Am I Sherlock Holmes ?

Actually, that's not me. That's a close friend of mine, Brett, who I rather enjoy using as a model. He makes an appearance in my poem "Majel", which if you're interested, you can find in post #29 in this thread.

Thanks for your curiosity!

 

[Brickjectivity]

Well, it's time to post another "Know Your Moderators" thread* since the last one I posted was about eleven or so years ago now. With that said, here are a few random facts about me:

I live along the Front Range of the Rockies, near Cheyenne Mountain, in Colorado (USA).

I love walking about the town, and I tend to walk at a fast pace.
Some of my other interests are:
painting (mostly acrylic portraits),
reading (mostly non-fiction science and history),
writing (mostly essays),
composing poetry (mostly a wee bit experimental),
tutoring (mostly @Terese),
and soaking nude in hot springs (mostly to the horror of any bystanders).

I paid my university room and board by working as a fire fighter.

So...how did this come about, Phil? Did you wake up one day and decide "I'm going to major in Philosophy and work through college as a firefighter! ?" Why Philosophy? Why not English, History of Divinity? Why a firefighter?

 

[Sunstone]

The same reasoning they used to buy a fleet of extra bombers for which there was no base, no crews, no support staff, etc.

It's all about the money -- who gets the contracts and that sort of thing, isn't it? Kind of disgusting at times.

 

[Sunstone]

So...how did this come about, Phil? Why a firefighter?

How I became a fire fighter is easy. When I told my mother which university I was going to, she said, "I know someone who rents apartments in that town -- let me ask him if he's got any deals!" So she asked him and because he was such a nice guy, he not only offered me a deal on an apartment, but also told me about a "Work/Study" program the local fire department had.

Basically, the city fire department had long ago cut a deal with the university to house three students in a room at one of their station houses and to provide them with a food allowance in exchange for the student's fighting fires, going on rescue calls, and performing the occasional odd chore around the station.house. So I did that for three and a half years, and even got promoted to the minor rank of "chief of the students". Of course, the fire department employed a number of regular fire fighters in addition to us three students. As a consequence of all that, I have a whole lot of funny fire-fighting stories and sad rescue stories, which if you're interest, I'll tell you one or two of them.

 

[beenherebeforeagain]

How I became a fire fighter is easy. When I told my mother which university I was going to, she said, "I know someone who rents apartments in that town -- let me ask him if he's got any deals!" So she asked him and because he was such a nice guy, he not only offered me a deal on an apartment, but also told me about a "Work/Study" program the local fire department had.

Basically, the city fire department had long ago cut a deal with the university to house three students in a room at one of their station houses and to provide them with a food allowance in exchange for the student's fighting fires, going on rescue calls, and performing the occasional odd chore around the station.house. So I did that for three and a half years, and even got promoted to the minor rank of "chief of the students". Of course, the fire department employed a number of regular fire fighters in addition to us three students. As a consequence of all that, I have a whole lot of funny fire-fighting stories and sad rescue stories, which if you're interest, I'll tell you one or two of them.

I'd love to hear a couple of stories!

 

[Sunstone]

I'd love to hear a couple of stories!

Thank you! Here's the first story...

A call comes in at two in the morning. A few minutes later we roll up to a red house with thick black smoke pouring out the front door.

The attack team dismounts from the lead truck and heads in, dragging an inch and a half hose line with them. When they get to the door, they see the smoke is coming from stairs off to the side that apparently lead to a basement. Down they go, but cautiously -- in case fire has undermined the stairs.

Relief! In the basement, the attack crew happily discovers it's not a fire that's pouring out the black smoke, but merely a faulty furnace. They shut the furnace off.

But as it happens, on the basement floor is a mattress and all around the mattress are empty beer cans, maybe a dozen of them.

Moreover, there's an ashtray next to the mattress with both cigarette and (what look to be) hand-rolled marijuana butts in it.

But the best part of it --- sleeping on the mattress itself are a naked, but handsome young man and an even more beautiful, but equally naked, young woman. Sleeping despite the ruckus the attack crew has been making!

The crew leader leans down to shake the young man awake.

No response. None at all.

Crew leader shakes harder. This time a grunt, but only a grunt. The young man does not wake up (It must have been one hell of a party, thinks crew leader).

Crew leader shakes the young man with considerable force this time, considerable force!

A grunt or two a groan.

The young man still does not wake up but............

................but without waking up, without opening his eyes, he somehow manages to roll over on top of his naked friend and then -- much to everyone's amazement -- begin humping her, instinctively humping her, furiously humping her!

 

[Geoff-Allen]

Thanks 4 all the info on your life & experiences.

The poems aint bad either IMHO

 

[Sunstone]

Thanks 4 all the info on your life & experiences.

The poems aint bad either IMHO

Thank you for your kindness.

 

[Sunstone]

I'd love to hear a couple of stories!

Here, as promised, is the second story.

The story begins when, at the monthly meeting, the Chief cautions us -- "No screw ups this month! I'm negotiating a pay raise for everyone of you with the City Council this month in recognition of the fact that you've done so well over the past year, and consequently y'all can NOT afford to look bad while my talks are underway. So, no screw ups this month. None! You hear me!"

We all hear him.

Less than a week passes when a call comes in at almost precisely five in the morning. I pile out of bed, still half asleep, and rush to dress myself in my clothing and turn out gear. But I'm so sleepy that I'm a bit slow and I barely catch a ride on the rear bumper of the last truck out of the station.

We go screaming down the main street of town. I look over my shoulder and notice that we're being followed by a station wagon. The driver is a matronly woman in a housecoat, and with her are several small children. I can see how their eyes are fixed on me.

"Aww...", I think, "How cute she's taking her kids to show them how we fight fires! I bet everyone of those kids wants to be a fire fighter right now! How cute!"

It was about then that I noticed my pants beginning to slide down my legs.

I quickly realized that in my nearly asleep state while dressing, I had not gotten my pants properly zipped up and fastened. Lucky for me my turn out coat is long enough that my pants don't show as having fallen down yet.

But unlucky for me, I need one hand to hold onto the truck, and I cannot with just my one free hand hitch my pants back up. All I can do is hold my pants from falling down further, falling down far enough that the lady and kids in the car behind me will notice them.

At last we rol up to a motel that's on fire. GULP! We are not alone! News vans from the three local TV stations have already arrived at the scene. Worse, I can see their camera/reporter crews are already out and at work. What if they spot me with my pants down? Will they be kind enough not to point their cameras at me, not to smear my embarrassing state all over their morning newscasts?

I cannot believe they will be so kind. The Chief's words come rushing back to me, "Don't screw up!" But I am screwing up, screwing up big, and in front of cameras!

For an instant, I imagine the Chief turning on his TV that morning before work.

For an instant, I imagine him tuning in the local news.

For an instant, I imagine him struggling to come up with some plan, some shred of a plan for how he -- for how the fire department -- can recover from this and everyone still get their raises.

And for an instant, my heart falls into my stomach and I become the loneliest man in the world.

Then I spot a nearby place between two cars -- a place where I soon discover that I am able to hide while I hitch my pants back up. Saved! Saved from certain death by embarrassment!

 

[beenherebeforeagain]

Here, as promised, is the second story.

The story begins when, at the monthly meeting, the Chief cautions us -- "No screw ups this month! I'm negotiating a pay raise for everyone of you with the City Council this month in recognition of the fact that you've done so well over the past year, and consequently y'all can NOT afford to look bad while my talks are underway. So, no screw ups this month. None! You hear me!"

We all hear him.

Less than a week passes when a call comes in at almost precisely five in the morning. I pile out of bed, still half asleep, and rush to dress myself in my clothing and turn out gear. But I'm so sleepy that I'm a bit slow and I barely catch a ride on the rear bumper of the last truck out of the station.

We go screaming down the main street of town. I look over my shoulder and notice that we're being followed by a station wagon. The driver is a matronly woman in a housecoat, and with her are several small children. I can see how their eyes are fixed on me.

"Aww...", I think, "How cute she's taking her kids to show them how we fight fires! I bet everyone of those kids wants to be a fire fighter right now! How cute!"

It was about then that I noticed my pants beginning to slide down my legs.

I quickly realized that in my nearly asleep state while dressing, I had not gotten my pants properly zipped up and fastened. Lucky for me my turn out coat is long enough that my pants don't show as having fallen down yet.

But unlucky for me, I need one hand to hold onto the truck, and I cannot with just my one free hand hitch my pants back up. All I can do is hold my pants from falling down further, falling down far enough that the lady and kids in the car behind me will notice them.

At last we rol up to a motel that's on fire. GULP! We are not alone! News vans from the three local TV stations have already arrived at the scene. Worse, I can see their camera/reporter crews are already out and at work. What if they spot me with my pants down? Will they be kind enough not to point their cameras at me, not to smear my embarrassing state all over their morning newscasts?

I cannot believe they will be so kind. The Chief's words come rushing back to me, "Don't screw up!" But I am screwing up, screwing up big, and in front of cameras!

For an instant, I imagine the Chief turning on his TV that morning before work.

For an instant, I imagine him tuning in the local news.

For an instant, I imagine him struggling to come up with some plan, some shred of a plan for how he -- for how the fire department -- can recover from this and everyone still get their raises.

And for an instant, my heart falls into my stomach and I become the loneliest man in the world.

Then I spot a nearby place between two cars -- a place where I soon discover that I am able to hide while I hitch my pants back up. Saved! Saved from certain death by embarrassment!

At least you remembered your pants...