I am watching it rain on the Railfan camera in Ashland as the Amtrak train #66 headed to Boston pulls in. Beautiful with reflected streams of light. And the allure of travel.

All of my good vibes, positive stuff from the prior post have left me. A feeling of loneliness replaced them. A burning desire for sexual intimacy fills me. My wife, at this point, is sleeping, exhausted from her work. She loves me but is indifferent to my passion simultaneously. That makes the emotional pain excruciating. Yet I know how affairs turn out. And separations. The fractures bring no relief.

That is why there are dreams.

What am I doing awake? I got up to urinate and I went back to bed, but it seemed hot, so I changed shirts, from a flannel pyjama top to a tee shirt.

Then my mind got all ALERT on me. I read some Word Press posts, fix a cup of decaf, watch the Virtual Railfan camera in Ashland.

It is almost Winter. Already my skin feels dry. It is cracking as little nicks appear on my hands. Yuck. It may be almost Winter, but a freakin’ wasp is crawling across the carpet on the floor. I crush it.

Maybe I am sleepy now. A warm bed would feel nice.

Later.

It is 8:45 here in Western Henrico County, a suburb of Richmond, Virginia. Virginia was first settled in 1607. The County of Henrico was formed as a “shire” in 1611. This makes it a very old political subdivision by American standards. As a reference, Shakespeare was still living at the time. The King James Version of The Bible was published in the same year.

Virginia, until very recently, has been strongly Anglophile. We have two manor houses, one from the 16th century, Agecroft Hall. and one from the 13th Century, Virginia House, that were disassembled in England and reassembled in Richmond in the early Twentieth Century. Quite lovely.

It is nigh on impossible to understand Virginia unless you consider this profound Anglophilia. The great legacy is our respect for English law. John Marshall, the Chief Justice, who established the strong role of The Supreme Court in our system of governing was a Virginian.

As I warned you, this is of no particular importance.

I may not be perfect, but at least I can parallel park.

Most of us love, not by some prescribed and established protocol, but in a singular, personal, private, jumble of gestures, thoughts, sentiments, caresses, and embraces.

How is a chunk of bronze sitting on a chunk of granite dedicated to somebody who has been dead upwards of one hundred fifty years controlling your life? It didn’t control Dr King’s or Rosa Parks’ or thousands of other nameless people who went about the business of ending segregation. And if you still feel oppressed, only you can change how you feel.

This is my younger son. We had lunch the other day at our favorite Cubano restaurant Kuba Kuba Dos.

He ordered the coconut risotto cakes. We sat and talked about nothing important, but between my sons and me, every conversation is vital.

He talks of his work, his investing ideas, his dog, his cousin’s wedding plans, I tell him of the diabetes diagnosis, getting my flexibility back. Just stuff.

Who knew that just sitting with your adult children would be such fun?

A dirty mind never sleeps. It tries. But stuff trickles in like rain through old shingles. I had a good day, really good day. Part of feeling good is feeling alive, aware of the passion in my heart. And the splendour of having such feelings,