Dreams and Things

A friend at party asked me What become of Jessica? I don't see her anymore. I couldn't hear but only see I only see her shining face That I oh so adored. A bitter strife from out of the blue After fifteen years together. I don't know what I should do. What should I do? Why can I say it anymore? What could I do? To change things now When the wounds are still so sore, What paths remain? All talk has gone away. The loving caress we had before but she has left me forever now. What paths remain? What paths remain? What is there left to do? What paths remain? What paths remain? What is there left to do? What kind of stupid game we'd play If we If ever we should meet? We'd avoid the truth each cannot say Nervously we'd shuffle our feet. And each just waits for it all to the end While squirming in their seat. What paths remain? What paths remain? What is there left to do? Wh...

One of things that hurts me terribly was the loss of Juliet's family as part of the fallout of our divorce. My own family was severely dysfunctional as I came to understand after years of psychotherapy. It was probably the abuse from my parents and my blind willingness to accept it as reality that caused, in part at least, my psychosis. My father was a brute and my mother a neurotic, probably bipolar, who used me as a surrogate for the love she never received from my father. My father was a coward, a liar and a bully. This came to me in an epiphany later in life after I became an adult and drew away from them. He was a coward. He served in the coast guard during World War II. I can imagine that when he signed up he reasoned that guarding America's coasts would prevent him from coming in harm's way. I can only imagine the fear he experienced when the coast guard was used to protect the convoy ships on their way to Europe and wh...

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.