Monthly Archives: December 2018

Year End.

31 Monday Dec 2018

Posted by in Relationships, Sexuality

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I am sitting here, comfortable, warm, indolent, desirous.

Do I risk everything in 2019 to make my marriage a marriage? You know, a relationship with physical intimacy. But here’s the kicker to that. The physical intimacy is the tip of the proverbial iceberg. In order for the door of sex to open, there are other doors in the passage that need to open first.

Here’s the crusher. My pretenses, my facade have to go away. Only I can release them. Yikes! So I am back to wrestling with that conundrum. But then again what have I got to lose?

#2 Son Visits

27 Thursday Dec 2018

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My 30 year old younger son came for dinner. We had an eye round roast, mashed potatoes, with mushroom gravy. He wanted macaroni and cheese with my homemade cheese sauce too. Being smart, I figured I could fix Mac & Cheese another night and rope him into another visit. I don’t think there has ever been a parent who hasn’t wished their adult children could magically be 7 or 8 or whatever their child’s “cute age” was, again. But he turned out OK and I am still high from the visit.

He had this idea about unloading baggage from a moving train, as if it were a huge problem. I think the venture capitalists would rather put their money into Artificial Intelligence, rather than a minor problem in a moribund form of transportation. But what do I know?

Christmas Eve.

25 Tuesday Dec 2018

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Yesterday, 24 December, seemed particularly busy. I did more than I usually do. I went to Confession. I am a great believer in the Sacrament of Reconciliation, (Penance), because it is a chance to let God know that you know that you broke His rules. As a result, things aren’t going all that well. God values honesty and humility. He forgives our selfishness.

Then after getting squared away with The Good Lord, I went shopping at BJ’s to take advantage of some coupon savings, but I still spent a big chunk of money. I’m hoping that Finlandia Butter is worth the extra money, as well as the Irish cheese.

Having taken all the largesse home, and stowed away the frozen foods and other perishables, I went swimming, 2050 meters, in 50 minutes 7 sec. As the report cards used to say “Shows Improvement“. I am grateful for that.

J nd I had dinner at Maggiano’s Little Italy. The highlight was watching an eight year old boy in front of us at another table eat, or attempt to eat a bowl of spaghetti and a meatball the size of a baseball. Hilarious. His mother was at the table with him. I assume the youngish female human adult was his mother. But judging from his manners, the little boy may actually be raised by wolves.

When I got back home, I did some laundry, took a nap,and relaxed in general. The highlight was soaking and scrubbing my feet, clipping the nails, and applying some foot cream. They still feel great from that TLC.

Our only agenda item is the 10:00 AM Mass. No family get togethers till Saturday. Maybe my younger son will be by. But it is good to have time with just my wife at Christmas.

Bedtime

23 Sunday Dec 2018

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I spent the day at home, apart from my trip to the YMCA for a swim. I didn’t do much and I slept a long time in the morning. I spent the afternoon waiting for my daughter-in-law to come by with some pasta and sauce my son prepared. It took her a while and I suppose I should’ve gone to the Y earlier. But, ya’ know, a little bad time management from time to time is a good thing. So she gets here, and we just chat at the door for about 10 minutes. I enjoyed that time spent with her.

After the Y and the pasta dinner, I spent way too much time watching medical videos on YouTube. Then again, I have yet to tire of learning, after 67 years, 11 months and 2 days of breathing air on God’s Earth here.

But it is bedtime. Tomorrow I go to Mass to thank the Good Lord for this gift called being alive, as well as the gift of His Son’s Incarnation, this coming Tuesday.

Gratitude. Get you some!

Tea, A Ramble And A Rant

20 Thursday Dec 2018

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I am drinking a cup of tea, Harney’s Darjeeling, to be precise. I ordered a tin of loose tea from Amazon a while back. It is damp and rainy today, so hot tea sounded appealing.

Americans aren’t exactly tea connoisseurs. Most Americans drink tea iced, with sugar, what Southerners call Sweet Tea. My sister’s term for Sweet Tea is “house wine of the South”. My mother never put sugar in iced tea, so I don’t. My wife drinks sweet tea from McDonald’s almost all day.

I am bragging to myself because I can distinguish the difference between Darjeeling and Irish Breakfast Tea. Earl Grey is too easy to distinguish, as is Lapsang Souchong, one of my favorites. I love Lapsang Souchong’s pine tar smokiness. I daresay it is erotic, in the way that the unique aroma and flavour awaken the senses.

The awakening of the senses is the very essence of the erotic. So consider this. Our culture has become very sexualized, but hardly is it erotic. We are abuzz with allusions to arousal and gratification (orgasm), but the sensuality of sexual awakening is a wasteland of deprivation.

Subtleties of touch, smell, taste, sound, even sight, are lost. The sexual imagery is drearily cliched´. The Playmate image (sexism, notwithstanding) died of boredom.

But I digress, as my tea has gone cold. I shall have a proper Afternoon Tea this Spring, with dainty sandwiches, and pastries. Something to look forward to.

Colds And Humours

19 Wednesday Dec 2018

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Why are colds called colds? Did you ever wonder about that? Back in the Good Old Days, i.e. The Middle Ages, sickness was considered an imbalance of bodily humours. There were four such humours, phlegm, blood (sangue), black bile(choler) and yellow bile. The medieval physicians also looked at whether one was hot or cold.

So I feel like my humours are out of balance. Maybe that is my problem.

What about your humours?

Consumption

19 Wednesday Dec 2018

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That’s what they called tuberculosis back in the Nineteenth Century, before antibiotics, before effective treatment regimens, before sanitariums were established to isolate, then treat the sick. We don’t talk about consumption as a disease anymore. Tuberculosis is tuberculosis or TB.

But there is a consumption many of us feel. That we are consumed by our longing, for sexual expression, fulfillment and release. It involves our passion for our partners, who were, once, our lovers. The drama and the dreams live on for us, but our lovers moved on to other things, defeated by hormones, or anger, or fear of being consumed in the sweat and the lust and the passion.

It is too much to be loved so completely, I suspect. There is the regret of knowing the passion cannot be exchanged, the shame of quitting the race, the surrender to growing up.

Inappropriate

18 Tuesday Dec 2018

Posted by in Erotic Writing

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NSFW Inappropriate For Minors

The word perverse always puzzled him. He knew there were some things he, or any one else, must never do. Stay away from children or animals, for example.

But right now, with her, in this bed on this night, as their kisses became deeper as she opened her self, thighs spread, labia parted. The lights were even on, albeit soft. There was no needless fumbling, groping, probing. The room was just warm enough, so the ice cube he slid around her nipples achieved the desired effect. His lips reached out to one, encircling it as he flicked the nipple with his tongue.

The warm oil drizzled down her back and he slowly rubbed and stroked her back muscles, as she relaxed under his touch. As his fingers were still slippery, he pressed the rosette of her anus with his index finger. Then another finger, gloved now, slipped in to the first knuckle. She moved her ass back to take more.

The word perverse again crossed his mind as the play intensified with the entry of another well-lubricated digit. Her ass was now up and on display. Her cunt was there for play, and his other hand busied itself with ever more fervent and deeper strokes to build her tension, fuel her crisis. She would trade tonight her dignity for pleasure. She would be, for her lover, vulnerable.

And he did not want this game to end. It was her passion he sought. He wanted to lose himself, if he could, in her ecstasy. The ageless game of give and take today would be his to give, hers to take, receive, absorb, and grasp.

As she collapsed in her satiety, he planted one kiss on the nape of her neck, and then dozed off with her. Morpheus again had conquered Eros.

Not As Strange.

18 Tuesday Dec 2018

Posted by in Health Issues, sleep

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I had a chaotic dream, the kind that put familiar friends in strange places. I’m in this dream, participating in the action and observing from a neutral point at the same time.

I had thought I was sick with a cold or something. I do have a touch of bronchitis but that isn’t unusual for me.

What I realize is that I am just plain exhausted. I have been more active than I was 60 days ago and my eating habits have changed.

Worry, upset, anxiety are tiring. There is so much I need to detach from. I need to bring my loved ones closer. I wonder, in 1945 and 1946, when families celebrated Christmas together for the first time after World War II, if they cared that much, if at all, about presents. I suspect not.

In short I realize I need to just sleep. It comes fairly easily.

Strange Dream. Strange Day

18 Tuesday Dec 2018

Posted by in Health Issues, sleep

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As is my habit, I woke up early, fixed breakfast,felt tired again, and went back to sleep. I then had a dream, where I walked into a college lecture hall and proceeded to lecture the students. When the authorities finally figured out I had no business lecturing anybody about anything, they turned the microphone off and said The Dean would want to see me. At this point, I woke up, relieved it was only a dream and I would not have to see The Dean after all,

I have been kind of manic all day. I feel angry, tired, or weepy at times, without crying. When I fantasized a Mister Rogers episode where he spays a cat, I figured I had felt crazy long enough.

So I am drinking hot Earl Grey tea and watching Popeye cartoons. Hopefully I will fall asleep early.