Monthly Archives: January 2019

Revert To Snow

13 Sunday Jan 2019

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As if remorseful for the dingy gray drabness of the day, it is snowing again. We shall see what happens.

My wife has spent the day in bed, what she calls a “Relax-A-Fest”, what I call ignoring, possibly avoiding, me. I succumbed to the Temptress of Industry and vacuumed the carpet. There are black eye peas and tomatoes with onion simmering away, a sweet potato baking and soon a nice piece of sockeye salmon will be grilling in the oven. All wintry delights I guess, filling the house with heat and kitchen smells.

A day at home makes my disjointed world more painful. But what I write keeps the door to sanity open.

Later, loves.

Winter

13 Sunday Jan 2019

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I am looking at a wintry scene in my backyard. I wish it were a Currier & Ives quality scene with mid-19th Century sleighs and horses and people having a jolly old time. Rather it is a 21st Century snapshot of a ratty deck and a statue of Our Lady giving ju

st a touch of dignity to the picture. It is not a beautiful snow. The sleet currently falling squeezes out the charm, and the virginal wedding dress whiteness to a grungy off-white, as if it needed bleach.

Winter is what it is. Some days were made to hibernate. This is one of them. Soon I will trudge up the stairs and go back to sleep.

But I hope you become aware of the cultural programming that says we have to be doing something, either working or playing. We must be playing with the same focus and intensity with which we work.

Silence too is a rare species these days. I hear the noise of the sleet, the hum of the electric motor of the refrigerator compressor, and the television in the upstairs bedroom.

But my sweater keeps me warm. And sleep has already closed one eye. I take to bed with me the lovers in my head. And wish you all Adieu.

More On Saturday 12 Jan.

12 Saturday Jan 2019

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I did go back to bed. I slept a good three hours more. When I awoke again, I sort of dithered around a bit before going to the Y. I swam another 2500 meters, anticipating that my swim routine could be interrupted by the coming snow.

I visited a friend of mine in the hospital who suffered a stroke earlier in the week. He is only 45, but he smokes and is overweight. He is making progress but has a ways to go. He is paralyzed on his left side, but regaining the use of his leg.

I am tired. I have been pushing pretty hard. Time to rest.

Clothes. And Opinions.

12 Saturday Jan 2019

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I am up, have been about an hour. I am still tired, but sleep was difficult the last hour I was in bed.

I was somewhat excited to get dressed. I have lost so much weight that my jeans are getting loose and baggy. I decided to use the suspenders that go with these loggers jeans. They are very comfortable and I like the look. Yesterday a new pair of flannel boxers came from L L Bean, along with a light blue long sleeve tee-shirt. The L L Bean quality is so good, even with basic stuff like socks and underwear. So I got dressed. Maybe I will do a pic with the flannel boxers one day for all you flannel boxer fetishists.

Here is a picture. It’s not great. I guess I need to get a “selfie stick”.

I am in one of those sensually aware moods where I can feel the effects of working out in my body. I feel a connectedness to things.

It validates my belief that human beings are made to love and to be loved, love beyond physical intimacy, although not downplaying that key aspect of living.

I was going to go to a political breakfast and hear from a state delegate. But I need to save the money because I had to buy new wiper blades. Snow is coming. And ice. And sleet. Snow I can take. Sleet? No.

I swam last night. 2500 meters. It felt great.

I just want to thank everybody who shares their life with me through their blog. It means a lot. I used to just look for whatever erotic titillation I could distill from the entries, but now I read for more, even stuff I don’t want to hear about. I don’t know why.

Blogging creates community, I guess. And, like families, it’s a community that’s about more than ideas and opinions. Something like vulnerability.

Home Alone

08 Tuesday Jan 2019

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“Thank you for sharing.”

It is 4:30 PM Eastern Time in the USA. J is at work. We had lunch at Longhorn’s Steakhouse, a chain restaurant we both enjoy. The waitstaff is nice and the food is good enough. I went to WW, formerly Weight Watchers, weighed in and am progressing toward a goal weight of around 165 lbs, (around 75 Kg or 11 stone/11 lb.) I am making progress again.

The swimming is coming along swimmingly. I started to deviate from doing healthy things back February, 2018. A friendship ended. If a friendship ends, it isn’t a friendship, is it? I dealt with this emotional disruption by punishing myself. I ate any and everything that would not directly kill me. I stopped exercising to the point where my body had lost its strength, endurance and flexibility. I developed diabetes. As to the former friend, he could have cared less, I am sure. It took nearly nine months to get through this. One lives. One learns.

So I picked myself up, dusted myself off and started taking care of myself again. Hence the WW, the swimming, the renewed positive outlook. I am home alone, taking time to write. Mentally, I am sorting out Love vs Lust. The conundrum never seems to resolve itself. To love is a beautiful thing. To lust, to gratify the power and and conquest need, has that empty dissatisfaction where I am simply not connecting at an intimate level with another person. I was willing to settle for that for the longest time.

A Full And Tiring Day.

06 Sunday Jan 2019

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I am tired. I fell asleep in an AA meeting for only about five minutes, but it felt like I had slept eight hours. I could fall asleep in a split second, I think I will go to bed, once I finish the episode of Kenneth Clark’s Civilisation that I am watching now. It is the episode dealing with the worship of Nature. He discusses Rousseau, Wordsworth, and Turner, the British painter.

It seems to have been a long day, filled with time with my wife. Pleasant enough, I suppose. But her world is cerebral, dry.

I did have a chance to swim. The cold water did its work on me. Though I did only a shorter distance, 1750 meters instead of 2500 meters, my body did feel the work. It woke me up, albeit temporarily.

I wondered aloud tonight why Mickey Mouse is bigger than Pluto, this great anomaly in mouse/ dog proportionality. This observation was made at dinner. My wife admonished me that mice were an unwelcome topic at dinner. C’est la vie.

Her world is devoid of fragrance and colour, style. And I am a romantic, a sensualist. Beauty holds the spark that kindles life. I must take the risk to be a seducer.

Free Style Recovery

03 Thursday Jan 2019

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Back in October, when I got the Diabetes Wakeup Call, I got serious about swimming again. Just about every issue I had with loss of flexibility and body aches have gone. I swim an average of five times per week now. The distance I swim is now consistently 2500 meters, over a mile and a half.

The physical liberation and the release from stress and worry go together. Swimming is an emotional liberator. I can feel power and strength in my body.

And it raises a question, why aren’t more people in their 60’s active? I realize many folks have health issues. I guess when we consider the Baby Boomers, more of us are active than those in prior generations.

Anyway, this is more of a ramblethan anything else. I am super glad to be active again.

Curiosity, A Long And Sleepy Ramble

03 Thursday Jan 2019

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At my last Confession, I talked with my priest about pornography. He brought up the concept the Church uses of an “unhealthy” curiosity. So I looked at my curiosity and assessed whether it is, or was, unhealthy.

When I was planning my life around when I could view or read sexually explicit material, I can honestly say that such a curiosity was unhealthy. What has begun is a continuing process of letting go, of taking the mystique and appeal out of the sexually explicit. The door that opened for me in this process is to look for the person behind the image. I start with the eyes and the face. The nudity then becomes secondary. The allure then deepens.

It is a very disturbing thought that human beings can eroticize almost anything, that we can turn our desires, feelings, and our curiosity into a prison we can never leave. Our fetishes then define us. Hugh Hefner, in the Playboy heyday, managed to turn the female body into a fetish object at a truly bizarre and pathological level. He managed to force out beauty in his pursuit of beauty. We began to pursue relationships on the basis of such a superficial concept of attraction.

We must acknowledge our universal need for love, love that goes beyond sexual release. That our bodies are intrinsically good is a truth that takes a while to accept; from our bodies come life itself. By that I don’t mean that we all have to become parents. But that our physical being is what perpetuates humanity.