Home Alone

“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.

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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

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

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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.

Things I Did Not Do 2018

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  1. Go to a movie at a movie theater.
  2. Watch a football game on TV
  3. Watch a complete hockey game on TV
  4. Watch a basketball game, collegiate or NBA, on TV.
  5. Watch any regular television series, not already in reruns.
  6. Buy a new computer, tablet, or Smartphone.
  7. Have a pizza delivered to my house.
  8. Leave the United States.
  9. Buy a firearm.
  10. Have surgery

3:21 AM New Year’s Day 2019

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I am watching a fashion show on YouTube. A Mexican fashion show, Bendita Tentacion, featuring lingerie. By the appearance on the screen, it’s trashy lingerie. Insomnia creates opportunities one doesn’t normally have if sleeping is what one does at night. This show has a minuscule production budget. Yet it is strangely endearing. These nice Mexican women are expressing their love of Fashion. Gotta love ’em for doing their thing.

I could watch the Brazilian plus size fashions. They are produced by people wanting to sell a lot of clothes to retailers; hence they spend money on professional models, wearing pricier clothes.

This is the magic that is Youtube. If you can send it up to the Internet, somebody will watch it. While these two women are talking, a television screen shows images that may or may not be related to clothes and fashion.

Time for more coffee, decaffeinated, of course. Maybe I will go back to bed. But, let’s be honest here, sleeping can be boring. Nobody in their right mind would be watching a show in a language they don’t understand just because it’s there to be watched. But I watch it. My older brother, were he alive today, would be watching.

Chalk this up to communing with The Dead,

I will have to put my jammies on again, or not. Maybe I will just sleep in my clothes.

Desire

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NSFW Adults Only

I imagine her energetic, for a change, and curious as to how such a touch would feel. Or if the tales of excitement, arousal, play are real for everyone.

Maybe we could sleep nude. And my hands will wander, for sure. Can life and love begin anew? Hard again and thrusting.

Slowly, slowly. Awaken now. Tempus fugit.

Year End.

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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?