LGBT, Gay, Writing, Poetry, Journal, Snark

Where the Wind Blows Us

I am not sure where things will end up. This world is a confusing mess that boggles all attempt to define it or even get a glimmer of a maybe. Things change at a frightening speed that is a sure thing for mental whiplash. Then again, other things simply refuse to evolve though sound reasoning, careful consideration and half a dash of compassion shows why change is needed and should happen. The two polar opposites are smashed up into each other and we experience the wind of chaos blowing every which way.

Each year I find myself less resilient. My bounce back bounced and didn’t come back. Pain seems stronger and longer, in the physical sense. My recovery time from illness is longer and longer. My energy levels are in a nose dive and I can feel the spiraling tailspin throwing me about. New sources of pain are hopping up and down for their fair share of attention. In all, a sign of things being just off kilter enough that I dread the future at this rate.

My emotional states are both steadier and less predictable, if that makes sense. When I encounter something saddening, the depths of it flood me. When I become irritated, it is sure doom for whatever the cause is. Fortunately, the positive emotions are equally strong when they happen. Making Blake giggle and squirm in my arms gives a joy that is second to none. It is bliss on tap and makes everything less negative.

I am at a point where I have decided to do things simply to do them. Too long I put off trying some things for one reason or another, often without any real necessity to do so. I colored part of my hair purple, a nice radioactive neon purple. I figure I may as well while I have hair to do it with. Things of that nature appeal to me right now.

My writing is coming back… slowly. I don’t know where it will take me but that is ok. I still plan on getting that anthology done. There is another novel that needs finishing. More poetry has bubbled up, to my bemusement. I may even go back to writing erotica again, the starting point of my writing life. I miss it. Then there is the loads of research yet to be done for my Greek epic. That too must come into being. It has waited patiently for a decade now, simmering in the undertow of my subconscious. Plenty of words and phrases waiting to leap out into world.

Who knows what will be caught up in the winds?


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