So what was up with last night? I don't want to talk about it right now. I don't think I'll be up for talking about it until I feel that things are settled in the world.
raddidge and I are fine. Spot is healthy and helping me tend the newest companion a wee catnip plant. I'm still employed at my day job. In fact I have to work from ten to two on Saturday.
raddidge showed me a site that pretty much said there isn't much hope. This upset me. After all this time, getting on my own two feet and being able to stand in this world and all of a sudden there's shitloads of reports about the end of western civilization. Eschaton is nice but only when one can realize it's just something over the horizon, something that will never come to pass.
raddidge apologized for showing me the site, she didn't think that it would upset me so greatly and we just quietly sat together for an hour or two while I mumbled various thoughts that went through my head.
So far the only comfort I can find is this particular site is only crying about problems rather than presenting solutions. Less importantly is the concept that endings are also beginnings. It feels like cold comfort but it's the only kind I can find in myself.
I apologize to you, gentle reader, for yesterday's hysterical outburst.
The month of March still sucks.
There was a rare visitor, one of the skinheads, who came in and joined me while I watched Everything You Wanted to Know About Sex* but were afraid to ask. "How do you find this funny? He's a Jew! You hate Jews!"
He looked at me and said "It's still funny."
Desperation breeds strange thoughts. Last night I could see the opiate allure of divine salvation. Fortunately it wasn't hard for me to remind myself there is no god and salvation must come from the works of mankind. Women just fuck things up and menstruate all over everything humankind. I went through the various stages of grief, anger, denial, etc. like those old Matt Groening Life is Hell comics.
Once again I expressed my deep and abiding affection for raddidge. Most times if I'm an insensitive clod and I interrupt something she's going to say then she'll clam up and never say another word. This always troubles me. What makes things worse is when I try to goad her into saying what was on her mind. She'll laugh it off, joking about the little hamster in the squeaky exercise wheel in her head, and say that it's okay. Yet when I look in her eyes I see that it really isn't okay. Perhaps I'm seeing things through guilt-colored glasses.
Last night I told her that I wasted thirty four years, more than three decades without her company, her love, her companionship and that loss only makes every moment with her far more precious to me. She said that we wouldn't be where we are today if we didn't have that time.
I figure she's right. After all, ten years ago, she would've gotten on my nerves and I would've gotten on her nerves.
Right now, everything is just right.
