Sex After ... Death?

I am learning that the death of a spouse is a psychological nightmare!  There are more than just the five stages of...grief; there are the ten stages of guilt; the 100 stages of regret; the 1000 stages of "mis-memories"; the 10000 stages of hesitancy about life moving forward; and the 100000 stages of stupidity about all previous stages.

I find myself in a number of psychological conundra. What to do about this friendship; or that new interest; or that old mistake! So many things to be sorry for. So many things to misremember. So many things to crawl under a rock for...

Is life nothing but regret? Are there real things to be proud of, to be happy for?  I wonder.

Still Thinking of Bertina (Tina)

What does a "relationship" take to succeed? Give and take? Tolerance? Sexual attraction? Sensual arousal? Understanding? Dreaming together? Touch? In touch, not out of touch? 

Love? What is that? Desire? Does that go on forever? Wanting...to...be...with? Liking? Liking everything about the other? Tolerating the rest? The same thought patterns? The same needs fulfilled?

When should a relationship die? When one or the other won't play "fair?" When one or the other won't "play?" When both won't make the effort? When love can't overcome self? 

And so it is -- and so it goes -- and so it hurts!

Who's the Damn Fool?

All of my life -- I haven't minded playing the fool, the "ignorati," the imbecile -- who just doesn't get it. That quality makes me an unqualified and ignored listener who learns, learns, learns.

I observe and learn from people: their behaviors, their stories, and sometimes even their lies. I observe and share with people -- their adventures, their mistakes, their triumph's. Women have always underestimated me; men have always understood me. Women who like to compete have always gone away having "bested" me. Men have always understood that life is "no contest." Life is a "non-competitive" clause on your birth certificate.

So, who is the "damn fool" now?

  

On the Mend

My sister is "on the mend" from her infections and her operation(s).  I am extremely happy about all that. My daughter is completing the run of her production of "Love and Human Remains" in Chicago; and I am also happy about that.

And life goes on -- filled with all kinds of "hurry up's" and "wait's" and every other kind of complication. And I am extremely tolerant of all that. And life goes on.

I hope that Catherine, Caridad, Lois, Jen, Tina -- and about a hundred others, are as happy and fulfilled as they can be. They all deserve to be "happy."

Ticket to Ride

Think I'm gonna be sad, think it's todaaaaaay!  Old song lyrics die hard. What made me think of those lyrics was once again the callowness of youth in general. Not just tiny frog puppets are "green."  Kermit is everywhere. Lots of human beings are as well.

By being green they just don't "get" the passages that have pre-dated their own arrival. The Baby Boomers didn't get WWII!  The didn't get the sorrow and shame  (and happiness and pride) over Nagasaki and Hiroshima!  They didn't get slow music and ballads.  They didn't get women working.

And so the nation "flipped" over in values, thanks to our victories in the war, and the devouring consumerism that followed. Then came the backlash of the late 50's, the Bohemian/Hippie movement of the 60's, Vietnam, and the hell of a split country.

The 70's saw anti-Vietnam, Black Power, Feminism, Gay/Lesbian/Transgender parades, and the Rainbow coalition.  Then conservatism respread it's nasty wings -- and quick wars ensued: Desert Storm, Iraq II, Afghanistan and finally threats from ISIS, Russia, Iran, and everywhere else.

And the youth still don't get it. Nor do their middle age parents. And we all delude ourselves into thinking that somehow, some way, "we all have a 'ticket to ride.'"

Life, Death, Aging

As I cycle through my friends' social media accounts  I find no evidence of mortality, no cognizance of a time when they might get old(er), no understanding of "the passing of things."  Young people think they will be forever young, forever flirtatious, forever attractive.  Older people think they will always be at their best (which, of course, they are at right now). The oldest among us do understand -- but pathetically have no response to the process or the result.

I would like to change that in me. I would like to both understand and acknowledge that life is finite, that health is a gift of great value, that death may be an even bigger gift. We should all be learning to live while we are aging. We should all be conscious enough about life to take nothing for granted. We should all be kind enough to tolerate whatever lapses exist in others, and be mindful of the lapses we cannot see in ourselves. And so it goes.

Writing for Non-Publication

I write for my brain. Not for others.  I write because my brain needs to vent, or to cry, or to harp, or to plead, or to beg for forgiveness, or to end an argument.  I write to fulfill my need to complete a thought -- usually one that has been rumbling around my head for years. Or at least months.

I write to be free -- I write to understand that freedom -- I write for myself, not for others.