Here I am, tired, been up for a while, too long, really. I should go to bed.

The yearning I feel for the love that I don’t get sears my heart. It is like getting socks for Christmas. Just socks. Ugly White Tube Socks. Again and again. Year after year. Nice gift only if that is what I need. And I often need them, I should be grateful and yet…. the prospect of socks again is frustrating and maddening.

So I am waiting for Romance and Passion to hit me like a ton of bricks.

Emotional. That is the only kind I ride. Perhaps I need to change that.

Yesterday, my TV crapped out. There is something wrong with it. They are made so inexpensively (cheaply), that the modern television is more economically replaced than repaired. So I have to survive an indeterminate period of media deprivation; no Popeye cartoons, no English “mudlarkers”, no Ukrainians with metal detectors, no Russian “mukbangers”, and no interminable World War Two newsreels and documentaries. I will survive (cue disco music!).

The emotional roller coaster I am experiencing pertains to my upset with our local delegate to the Virginia General Assembly, who just voted to override a fundamental element of the US Constitution. What is gallimg is that he is a high school government teacher in his real job. His fix could serve to precipitate a Constitutional crisis (no matter who wins) and is of questionable legality.

So I wrote letters (emails), to him and to the school board, citing his 1) conflict of interest as an obvious political partisan and 2) his bad judgment. I suggested he resign or be terminated if all he is is a partisan tub-thumper masquerading as an objective educator. (Emotional peak). Then J and I went to dinner, where we talked, ate, and otherwise reconnected. (Emotional drop and leveling off).

I feel much better now. Remarkably, since I have no access to Popeye.

I will survive. ( 🎶So I’m saving all my lovin’…. 🎶)

Here I am awake. Deceased Ex-wife’s birthday is today. She would have been 71, had she lived.

Oh well. The sleep is tugging at me. Back to sleep. In the other room, I think. Yeah. Bed.

I was going along minding my own business, hoping my wife would be happy about something. She tells me she has trouble figuring out how to respond to make me happy. This means what?

If I share that I need physical intimacy (aka SEX ), and she has trouble with being sexually attentive, approachable, and vulnerable, then it’s better for me to not express my needs.

It is time to put the mask back on. Stop the naïve optimism. This is what reality looks like.

How often have we heard that communication between spouses is of utmost importance?

Well it’s true. Then again. I have nothing to say any more.

Just not worth it.

After a period of doing than usual stuff, shower,AA, visiting S, my AA sponsee, late lunch w J (Cracker Barrel), I decided I needed a nap. Truth be told, I am exhausted, probably from trying to keep J happy.

So I lay down and slept on and off. I might lay down some more and sleep some more. There is physical exhaustion present, emotional burn-out too.

J tells me she is down now. And I think it’s my fault. Cognitively I know that’s nonsense. J needs no help from me in making herself miserable.

I believe the best advice, for me right now, is to watch Popeye cartoons and let J be “down” till she isn’t any longer.

I have been awake about two hours. I have watched two trains, #98 and #86, pass through Ashland. I made some coffee, heated a croissant, and read some blog posts. Now I’m watching two English ladies go “mudlarking” on a beach in Yorkshire, I think.

I’m settling in, preparing to go back to bed. The magic of early morning has worn off. My erotic imagination is returning. Stay tuned.

C, #2 son, in addition to Asperger’s Syndrome, has Oppositional Defiant Disorder. He will challenge pretty much anything one says to him. If I told him the sky is blue on a cloudless, sunny day, he would challenge me.

So when I told him the uneven surface of his front porch represents a trip hazard and he could be held legally liable for bodily injuries in the event of an accident, I get a multiplicity of arguments from him. He just needs to correct the situation. Exhausting.

Now, I am calming down so I can sleep. But these little episodes underscore the absence of emotional nurturing in my life. J is angry with C also. So I get concerned with her upset. I don’t feel cared for.

Just have to suck it up. Then figure out a way to talk to J about this need being met. I say this because when I express my needs, she acts hurt and guilty for her shortcomings, with no change on her part.

Night all.

I am awake. I slept three hours. I saw my psychiatrist on Monday, told him I was doing really well, and, for that moment, that was the truth.

Now, I’m not so sure. I have been awake about ninety minutes. I have some body pain. I want to cry. J is asleep. I am watching a Russian who does videos on YouTube, Marina Morlock. She is a chatterbox, but she smiles a lot. And wears red lipstick. What’s not to love? She sounds like Natasha from the old Rocky and Bullwinkle cartoons.

Right now she is showing us Russian women’s underwear, modeling as best she can while holding her Smartphone. Her camerawork is dizzying, at times

Changing the subject, l should have been a plumber. Everybody told me I was smart and should go to college, which I did. My advice to everyone, learn a trade. Forget college.