I recently received an unexpected inquiry from a concerned reader of my blog. Paraphrasing her, it was something like, “Hey Bozo! Five days now, no new postings! What’s up?” Okay, okay, strictly speaking, she did not call me “Bozo,” I love to paraphrase though. It allows such freedom to lie. But when she pointed out to me that I had not posted anything recently, I did feel slightly bozoesque. That’s a word, isn’t it? Sure it is!

So here’s why my writing seemed to have lapsed. Two reasons.

Reason one: a distinctly disquieting despondency has crept into my heart due to the tragic event of Trump’s election in my old country. I used to feel that it might be possible to talk with my political opponents about approaches to issues of mutual concern. But that seems not to be possible any longer. Trumpinocchio, Putin’s puppet, is well into tearing apart democratic process and re-writing history to suit his stilted view, just exactly the way Hitler did in pre-war Germany. Hitler had book burnings. Don Donald just pisses out a tweet and his frenzied, non-thinking fans turn their attentions briefly from the ‘smash-‘em hard’ TV shows they were watching to their own social buzz to echo and disseminate the Don’s blasphemies as if they were truth. Instant re-write of truth, instant re-write of history. No need to burn books at all. Heil Drumpf! (His ancestral name.) Die Führer thinks for me!

Reason two: I’ve been a busy boy. After a 41 year marriage fell asunder, I’d found a woman with whom I was quite happy, only to learn, after 4½ years, that the relationship had been distinctly one-way. Bless her, truly. I mean that. Her two-way, painful honesty with me did lead to the agony of my returning to the awful on-line dating scene, but at this juncture, it does seem that I have found a woman with whom I am very compatible. And because of finding her, I’ve been a busy boy.


I say ‘boy’ not just for its alliterative qualities when paired with the word ‘busy,’ but because my substantially younger female partner has helped to bring out the boy in me in some very happy ways. She’s still old enough, and professionally knowledgeable enough as an RN, to respect some limitations brought on by my age. Also, her demanding work shifts mostly guarantee that she respects the need for sleep when one is tired. (See Right Time) So our age gap is mostly happy and enjoyed in both directions, I think. We’ll still go out and do young, 50 year-old things, but it won’t be three such young, 50 year-old things in a row. She cares enough for me to want to protect my health and well-being. Wearing me out wouldn’t serve either of us very well.

I doubt that my new love will be cause for cessation of my writing. If anything, my writing has increased! But due to the personal nature of my output, almost all of it has been directed to her in love notes which are not suitable for public posting.

Maybe read Innocence of Winter understanding that it relates to how males and females generally seem to use different approaches to enjoying thrills.  Or even Limbic Tango to understand better what I mean by “busy.”

What a busy boy!