Odd Explanations.

Having gone nearly three days without making a post I suppose it’s about time I said something. But what? Life is a bit dismal at the moment in spite of the beautiful summer and tonight’s delightfully balmy evening.

 This week's me

The current silence is largely due to a recent chance encounter which had me musing deeply again on the matters of life, love, loss, ageing, mortality, frustration, and the fact that there’s always been one thing in life at which I have unremittingly failed and still would even if I had the wherewithal to engage with it.

And then there’s the knotty question of Loneliness as it Relates to the Loner. One or two people have asked me of late: ‘Are you lonely?’ That isn’t the easiest question to answer because I don’t have the same social needs as most people. Most people naturally relate to and communicate with those whom fate has chosen to throw into their path – their family, their neighbours, their work colleagues, the people they meet in the pub, the people they play golf with… I’m not made like that. I can’t relate to or communicate with people just because they’re there. I need someone of comparable or compatible wavelength, or someone possessed of a presence so beguiling it can’t be ignored because it energises my consciousness. Such people are extremely rare. There is one such person domiciled within a twenty five-mile radius of where I live, but that rare exception is wholly indifferent to me and effectively oblivious to my presence on the planet. That’s a shame, but as Mick famously sang and Dr House frequently reminds us: You Can’t Always Get What You Want.

And so the answer to the question ‘are you lonely’ is: ‘No, not as most people understand the term. I’m only lonely for the one special person, but I’ve a feeling that I’ve used up my quota of special people for this life and the reservoir is all dried up.’ I suppose that’s loneliness of a sort.

Ah, and then there’s Monday. That’s another reason for the recent silence. Monday is a black hole; Monday is the current unknown quantity which might summon me to heaven or to hell (or leave me some place in between which is currently unspecified.) I’m trying not to think beyond Monday. I wouldn’t see the point.

(And it bothers me that I’m frequently mean and moody but never magnificent. And one of these days I might have the courage to explain why I’m beginning to suspect that my bedroom contains a portal to another dimension populated by vicious black dogs and pulsating clouds of black butterflies. I don’t suppose I will.)

I think it’s time for a marmalade sandwich.