There is, I would hasten to suggest, something to be said for this odd phenomena of starting again at 43 … truly weird, and yet liberating? So much for trying to sustain relationships. So much for trying to sacrifice myself upon the alter of the reality of others. Here I sit, with Nova Nation filling space with pleasant noise vibrating across the diminished space, all alone, and yet cocooned in a blissful sense of alternate realities, yet which are real to me!
What sort of life is this where I come from a 0745-1600 (Sun)day at work, collect the junk mail, settle down with a cider to read, and then hear the girl in the flat below screaming out in the throes of sexual pleasure? Am I missing something? I think not … ;)
Did I mention that I lashed out and bought a 27" iMac for the pleasure of one? What I am to do with the dubious distinction of wonderfulness I am still not sure, but what pleasure(s) there are to be in exploring, hey? ;)
Alright, I am going to bed, for an early night, etc. (even though I have tomorrow off) but I also have the 3rd part of the Hamilton trilogy … delayed pleasures?
btw, what am I to do with/about Rachael? My thoughts/dreams have been filled with her of late :o but she tells me that she has decided to take her sense of completeness by being with … umm, what is his name? the crazed/crazy psychomanipulative pseudo yank? 'He has gone into the psych ward, been sectioned, and I cannot leave him now!' Except that you knew that well before you got involved … Again
Anyway, enough with the looking behind, making sure that people are keeping up, but at the expense of me soaring … maybe it is time to let go, to fly away?
