I know what I want and I know I can’t have it. So what does that leave? Wanting things I can have? Not bad, but I’ve been doing that for years and there’s a problem. It’s OK until the thing you really want deep inside jumps out at you and says ‘Hi, there. Remember me?’ It’s like being a reforming alcoholic and having somebody give you a bottle of your favourite malt scotch for Christmas. And then you discover you’ve developed some rare allergy and the scotch would kill you anyway. Frustration on a grand scale.
So that leaves being content with the things life leaves on the path for me to pick up. Sometimes that’s OK, because sometimes life leaves little things lying around that are quite excellent. At Beltane, for example, a door I’d been looking for all my life was held open for me to peer beyond. But things like that are rare; mostly life goes AWOL for long periods and I’m left sucking at straws in an empty glass. The fact remains that I’m still a pathetic human being who wants what he wants.
Must try harder.
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The sunset this evening was the best I’ve seen in a long time. A mackerel sky coloured blue-grey and hot orange, with washes of pure gold on the horizon.
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I’ve had this optical mouse for about a month now, and I still can’t get used to the damn thing. It’s nothing like as positive as my old Tru-Touch ball mouse.
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I had a bout of imagined conversations again tonight – long ones. There were two of them, the first with Sheona McCormack with whom I haven’t had a conversation, real or imagined, for many years. We talked about my dreams. The second was with Lucy Wu of NSW, with whom I’ve never had any sort of conversation at all. Better not say what that one was about. She asked an obvious question and I answered. Enough said. I’ve been consciously avoiding imagined conversations with the rare and special person, because that just takes me back to square one.
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0122. Time to generate a measure of oblivion.
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