Gut Rumbles

September 08, 2007


Originally published June 23, 2002

I went back and edited my last post from yesterday. The damned thing sounded like a suicide note when I read it today, and I'm not THAT far gone yet. I do get entirely too consumed by funk sometimes.

I really try to be upbeat about life. But I'm a very emotional person and that Jabberwock inside my head breaks his chains and runs wild sometimes. The past year has not been a good one for me, and some pretty tumultuous events ran over me like a steamroller. I'm still trying to put my life back together after all the things that flattened me. (Hmmm... was that a Freudian slip there?) Things are better than they were when it all first happened, but not as good as they'll be tomorrow, or next week, or six months from now. Time heals all wounds, but I wish there was a "fast-forward" button I could push to speed things along.

Anyone who has followed this blog for a while knows that my moods bounce around like a crazed pinball, and I go from off-beat to analytical, from serious to satirical, from humorous to vitriolic, from "whaa-whaa!" self-pity to "SCREW THEM ALL" defiance. Sometimes even I don't know what manner of creature will fly from my mind when I sit down to write. But I write every day just to see.

I spent fifty years getting to where I am in life right now. I feel as if I am starting over from square one, and it's a little late to be doing that. But I'm still a fairly attractive man (my hair is gray, but at least I HAVE MY HAIR), I am physically fit (except for having nagging arthritis in most of my joints from football injuries-- and being totally impotent from prostate surgery) and I cook delicious meals, play several musical instruments well, write a lot of my own music, grow vegetables in my garden, give exquisite foot-massages and pedicures, and have a natural, built-in thermostat that makes me an excellent partner to spoon with on cold nights. I also cried like a baby at the end of All Dogs Go To Heaven, and that was a goddam CARTOON, for god's sake. "Insensitive jerk?" NOT ME!

I'll find someone who appreciates my finer qualities and is willing to tolerate my crap one of these days.


Rob's beloved bulldogs have 6 seconds to win but the fat lady has sang sorry rob they almost pulled. it off.

Posted by: ga on September 8, 2007 09:26 PM
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