Tuesday, March 1, 2016

" a pedestal of abalone shell…"



(The R)


The boy wants to come into the city and spend the night at my office. We have refrigerators here that have glass doors, so he believes that my days are filled with eating candy and gazing at the many fine luxuries of workplace consumption. We are preparing for our trip to LA this weekend. It is mostly all psychological preparation, but that counts too. He seems excited to go have an adventure with dad. I am, also.

Spring is increasingly arriving. There will be camping trips this year, also. Last night, his mom and I decided to enroll him in T-ball. Next year he will be in Kindergarten. Then, all of the rest. 

There is nothing that can be done, we were warned, but the warnings do no good. It all goes by so fast, each season arriving sooner than the last. 


So, discussions of gay sex and the fact that I have been diagnosed with cancer seems to have had no effect on my readers. Not one person reached out to me for sex, or to see if I was okay, or both.


Okay, I tried to write this morning. I agree with CS. I'm not putting the same effort into writing here that I once did, and it affects me in unpleasant ways. I have begun to seek pleasures elsewhere. I have reverted again towards the private world of film.






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