Dreams and Things

I am lying in bed after a long road trip during which I was selling things. I don't don't know what. I am in a four-poster bed but without a canopy. Juliet is on the left. my brother on the right, and I am between and facing them at the bottom of the bed. We are on top of the covers which are in a miss-mash between us.  We are playing a game in which one is supposed to toss an uncooked and hard pea and the others each try to catch it before the other. It's fun and although I become very competitive (which is my character) we play this game for some time. After a while I realize that it is just a game and I need not be so serious about it. It suddenly strikes me that both have missed me terribly during my road trip. The game is meant as a welcome gesture. I become less competitive. They love me with all their hearts. I think briefly of the road but push this thought out of my mind. The pea is suddenly soft and threatens to break apart. I am now playing the ...

[I want remind the reader that sometimes my dreams are daydreams. I relate them all in the same way. Dreams are described by italics and all other in regular text.] I am with my third (and Swedish) wife in Gothenburg, Sweden, walking along a pedestrian boulevard lined with small shops. Much like the stalls in the ferry building at the end of Market street. I look at her walking so proudly, sexy in the understanding that others admire her appearance as do I.  I speak with her in my very broken Swedish  about the end of our marriage and the emotional wreckage it left with a flotsam of waste in its wake. I am keenly aware that my Swedish has deteriorated and she corrects me and fills in missing words as I speak with her. I am embarrassed by the quality of my Swedish and in a strange waking moment I am reminded that my marriage with her ended only seven years ago. No wonder my Swedish has almost left me. We are now with her parents ...

I am infatuated by the second woman I am dating. [I have been collecting highbrow words from Mirium-Webster's word of the day. I'm going to try using some of them in my diary entries henceforth.]  I am sedulous [ (1) involving with or accomplished with careful perseverance. (2) Diligent in application or pursuit.]  with the second woman.  (I should point out that I do not use the names of actual persons in my diary in case it ever gets located--it's private after all. The "second woman" refers to the second woman I met through the dating service. I am going to call her "Joyce" from now on to make it easier to type and less confusing to read.) I try very hard to be charming and attractive to her. But I have decided on recitude [(1) The quality of being straight (2) moral integrity : righteousness (3) the quality or state of being correct in judgement or procedure]  with her, or for that matter, with anyone I meet through the service. For one thing...

I am into the dating scene these days. It took me a while--not a very long while--to get over the breakup of my last marriage. After wandering around aimlessly in my apartment for about a week I was suddenly struck by a thought: I should peruse the online dating sites! So I hammered my ego together and began looking through OurTime.com , a dating service for people 50 years old and older. I went through several iterations of my profile , that is, an explanation of who I am and what I am looking for in another person. I based a lot of it on observations of what women are looking for in a man. I stayed true to my principles, however. Although fine-tuned to appeal to women on the site it nevertheless represents who I am. I guess I just changed the language a little and highlighted those qualities of mine that others might find attractive. Everything considered it was an interesting experiment in introspection. I did not deliberately lie outright. But I had to ask ...

It is so very late and every day a scary date And when I face it I get tired It must end I cannot wait. It just can be so anymore. We can only go our separate ways. And count our lonely days. Now I see another here When all I praised was you my dear. But now the other comes to me And rises in me like the sea. In time we will accept the changes we now endure. Though now it's just a concept It's exchanges of something pure. Goodbye my love Farewell to comfort. That treasure trove Farewell to comfort.

I received a letter from my wife today. Apparently her daughter stumbled upon it and read it I have very stupidly not made it private. Anyway, she told my wife abiut it who read it. So now knows all of what I've written about her. It's not pretty. Of course, she could be bull shit about having read it. She's done that before. Quite frankly, I don't care. Anyway, here's the email she sent me, presumably after reading the blog: Dear (Me) , I can not continue to be your friend. It is very self destructive for me to hang on to you. I try to forget the horrible way you think of me, and the hateful things you’ve said. I make excuses in my mind for you by saying you didn't mean that, or you didn't know what you were doing because your crazy… I know that you think I’m “Acting”..When I am nice to you. The truth is, that I  am  nice. But you just remember the times I have not been in my right mind, The “Evil sister”, as you put it. It is such a sha...

My ex-wife came over this evening to work on art together. It's been about three, maybe four, weeks since we broke up. She is having difficulties finding boundaries as we struggle to be friends and live apart. We maintain almost daily contact with one another and do things for one another. For example, she bought me groceries yesterday--groceries that I should have paid for but did not. She's cooked dinner for the two of us which we ate at her mother's apartment (where she still lives). I've tried to help her through this crisis by being available to talk and visit at her leisure. Since we broke up she has consistently been the good wife instead of the hateful and evil wife. I am indescribably happy about this lucky circumstance. There have been times when the evil sister has shown glimpses of herself but these were quickly bottled up. I believe that on some level my ex-wife cannot grasp the fact that we have truly broken up and that we will never get...