I elected to rest today. Saturday was a 🐻 bear as far activities went.
Saturday, driving down to Church for Confession, I noticed that the planned demolition of my old junior high school building was proceeding. Only when I think about it too much do I feel a sense of loss. It was at this school when I learned Kennedy (JFK) had been murdered 22 November, 1963. Here is where I got my nose broken in a school yard fight. Here is where we queued up one Sunday after Church to receive the Sabine oral polio vaccine. The building is now a pile of bricks. The memories can’t be torn down.
I went to Mass. Was glad I did. I prayed a Rosary this afternoon. I took a nap. I started an Audre Lorde novel Zami. Decided I wasn’t in the mood for lesbian identity fiction.
But I need to blog. I need to put out that I’m lonely, here first, then to J. I need to turn off the political brain, the ideological brain, the brain of rules and ligatures.
Fuck the calories, I’m getting a Coke tonight.
I wondered again if J was a little. Then, while making the bed, I saw, in the bathroom we don’t use because of her junk, a cap, from a bubble bath bottle she saved, fashioned to be the head of Tigger. Nothing odd in that behaviour.
So she is on the way home. She will be tired. Too tired for sex. Or maybe she has a kidney stone. Maybe I will just chicken out again in asking for my needs to be met.
Self-pity is never beautiful or cool.