But am I tacking, or just enjoying the feel of the water on my scales?

Something something nautical image.

Feeling uninspired today, so guess what, you nice folks get another blog entry of me just basically yapping at you. My brain feels fat and vast and lazy and round, floating somewhere between indolent content and fatuous bovine surliness, and in such a ridiculous and useless state of mind, I am in no fit state for doing anything more than my most basic level of this stringing words together on the Internet thang that’s all the rage with the people in my head these days.

Nothing huge happening in my life right now, at least in that small portion of my unwholesome existence that extends into that specific dimension known locally, with charming provincialism, as “reality”.

In that special realm, that places where I keep all my stuff including my physical body and most of my porn, nothing much has changed lately. Still getting over Jon dumping me, but the worst is clearly behind me. Every day, the bitterness and disappointment and self-righteous anger (that’s the fun part, honestly) recede a bit more. Like any healing process, it has its more painful moments, but having good friends who support me and back me up on what a jackass Jon was (and is) for not seeing what a marvelous person I am and just how good my good lovin’ could be really does help a whole lot.

Damn, chicks know a thing or two about how to deal with this shit, don’t they?

Although I tried accompanying my revelation to friends with chocolate, and all it did was give me a headache. Stupid diabetes, I wanted it to make me feel better!

Next time, I will try a muffin or something.

And there will be a next time, hopefully. I get little alerts from okcupid a couple of times a week, and while I am still a little too raw from the saddle to get back on that dating horse just yet, I am peering over at the paddock and rubbing my chaps thoughtfully.

If there’s one fairly compatible man out there in this big beautiful urbanality of ours (and it really did look remarkably good there for a while), surely there is another. I mean, I might be a rather queer duck even by queer standards (or duck standards, for that matter) but surely there’s more of us intellectual hothouse flowers out there, and if the real world refuses to appreciate us for our delicate and impractical beauty, perhaps we just need to make out own hothouses and appreciate the hell out of each other all the more.

Plus, something about fertilizer.

So soonisher or laterish, I will go poking around the site for someone special or at least someone interesting again. It was very nice feeling like I had a boyfriend for three weeks, and I would like some more of that, please kindly and thank you muchly. A lot of long-dormant and radically underdeveloped (to the point of retardation) parts of myself finally got some stimulation into growth, and I would like to move more in that direction.

I want more life, fuckers.

It’s hard to get across to others how one can feel one is not a real person. To me, it’s such a basic facet of my life that there’s no question of questioning it. I have felt like I lacked substance for a long time, like perhaps I was just a picture of a person, a Flatlander wandering in this 3D realm, and only able to fake true existence for short periods of time before I have to slink off once more and hide in the horizon.

But I am not so crazy as to not realize how crazy that sounds. Not full on looney tunes rubber room institutional cuisine crazy, but alien and bizarre and hard to understand, despite my efforts to communicate it to others.

All I can do is point to how very little of life I have experienced, and ask people to try to imagine what it would be like if they were hella smart but emotionally, stuck somewhere before adolescence. Just how long before, I dare not speculate.

More than a bit, I suspect.

But if I keep pressing in the right direction, keep straining against the membrane and fighting for air, surely I will stumble me way into the third dimension, and finally grow up and become a real little boy.

That’s all I really want.