Triage

Triage, that's the game. Blog has been last on the triage pile. Work, health, folks have come first. Work has occupied two spots. Unsavory but I am pulling a paycheck so I don't mind so much.

At this point, assume that I'm writing a diary, insecure as any school girl's with a shiny locking clasp, unable to defeat a paperclip. (you can provide your own skoolgirl joke here.) I'm saying, read if you want to but I don't expect that I'll be writing to create round, well-formed entries. That might happen sometimes, but expect more crap to wade through. Self-indulgent and I'm proud of that. You can be equally self-indulgent and walk away if you get bored. Deal?

Here's what I'm thinking about. How do I wipe out my emotional habits and affectations? My heart has true affections, that's not the problem. The problem is that I have a routine that has provided a constant structure to house my emotional life. There's a kind of comfort in creating a situation like this. Even the problems are known, familiar and acceptably threatening. Why Phil do you mitigate your funny little emotional life this way? Why are you like the rest of humanity?

Well, fuck me, I'm making little sense. I'm really talking about giving up some specific stuff here. I'm at the point where I want to kill dead any idea and routine of relationships that I've had before. The relationship has been one of the two key definers of who I am since I've been a teen. Work, of course, is the other. Well, fuck them both. I don't want to be a slave to this anymore. 

I am sick being jerked around by the scrum of being in, out or between a relationship. That's it. I don't want a relationship ever again. I don't want one to end. I don't want one to begin. I don't want to be between an old one and a new one. I do not want it, sam-i-am.

I do want people, mens and womens. I want love, I want all that stuff. I do not want to be a puppet that needs love seasons imposed on its life. Christ, under this self-perpetuating scheme, I'm basically: blooming, pollinating, dormant, then waiting for the blooming again. I am not a plant, I am a human man! (Ha ha ha ha. Hollywood movies are funny. See The Peacemaker.)

To sum: I am not a plant. I like people, men and women. U2 is an awesome group. Cat drool makes my eyes itch. I want a new camera. Why doe consultants make so much? Perrier is refreshing. I miss the sun. Can I vacation in Cancun soon. Rhyme anytime?

See, not much of a closing. That's it. Next time, no that's it.