Caterwauling

No I didn’t lose weight. But my friend count is down by five. YEAH! Love it when the trash takes itself out. Now if those who blame Obama and Hillary for the orange asshole’s policies would realize that it’s spelled T-R-U-M-P, I might regain a little faith in humanity. Or, at least, in spell check.

Editor’s note: I wrote this 2018/05/13. Not sure if it will retain that date when I hit publish. My webhost is asking me to migrate my data and suggested putting up a new post. So I am putting up a new “old” post that’s been in draft mode since I think it’s OK to acknowledge this very cool thing that’s happening.

Ah, Taylor Swift. Never stop writing about your life at the exact same time it applies to mine.

Has it been a month already since I blogged behind the curtain? I write blogs in my head almost every day. I miss the actual blogging that I haven’t done since March.

But then I think of the one who analyzes every word — and misinterprets every last one of them to fit his own twisted narrative. What is sad that there is actually more than one. And none can leave well enough alone.

Maybe I’ll slip and hit publish. Or not. Honestly, having exactly zero connection to him … and to a whole bunch of others … has been sort of heavenly.

I have plenty of friends who have noticed their lost connection to me here. But it seems there are plenty more who get their gossip this way. And every goddamned one of them thinks that any vague statement I make is about them personally, rather than as a collective.

Yeah, maybe I WON’T hit that publish button after all.

In any event, the quiet has been good for me. Met a nice boy and figured if he hit the Google online jackpot, he’d land here and I REALLY didn’t want to have any recent posts up here. I might or might not have Googled him and learned a whole lot too. But to be fair, I did stop when I learned enough.

It was mostly good stuff, though. Interviews he’s done, articles he’s published, a book (!) he’s shopping around. I found me a literate one!

I did stop the Googling, though, because it’s not like that. It’s cool. It’s fun. It’s light. It could turn into something or it couldn’t. And I know it will be fine either way.

That’s a little different for me. There are people I’ve never written a syllable about here because I was SO HOPING they were everything I’d been waiting (a very long time) for.

Now, enh. That tick-tock of the biological clock is abating. I’m turning 44 (!) next week. It would be a medical marvel if I not only could physically bear a child, but imagine myself wanting one even now.

I know he has other entanglements. As do I. But I don’t think enough to trip either of us up.

He’s pretty. God, I do find some pretty ones. Likes a good sexy car too. Liberal. Voted for Hillary. So basically, “my type.”

I don’t know that it goes any deeper than that. But to quote the immortal — and newly inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame — Jon Bon Jovi, “Don’t bore us; get to the chorus”:

“Is it cool that I said all that?
Is it chill that you’re in my head?
‘Cause I know that it’s delicate (delicate)
Is it cool that I said all that
Is it too soon to do this yet?
‘Cause I know that it’s delicate
Isn’t it? Isn’t it? Isn’t it? Isn’t it?
Isn’t it? Isn’t it? Isn’t it? Isn’t it?
Delicate.”