A pile of it

I have no idea. A clean slate having sorted the smooth swap between old and new cars, I could relax today and that's more or less what I did, plus an hour of gardening for my mum.

But despite having absolutely nothing to report, I was drawn here as if there was something destined to come out when I opened the little box. I wondered if it was lavatory stories of people pooing their pants when I was at primary school or a critique of the first day of big brother (I won't be drawn into writing about them here though), or something spiritual based on absolutely bugger all experience, besides another out of body dream last night. Also I'm learning not to repeat myself or state the obvious when I see I'm doing it as most people know the situation and don't need to be reminding.
So this is (as a woman just said on the radio) creating like God. See, the messages are out there, the second I paused she said creating with God. That's the possibility of a blank sheet. I have realised people will only want to learn when they ask you. Knowing the biggest ways of self improvement are wasted on everyone who thinks they're fine, and probably are. So I no longer try and teach unless asked to as no one actually cares if you think you can show them anything new.

Overall, I'm very slowly running out of time. I know there are so many variations ahead, as a flow diagram with percentage chances on each, and living exactly as I am is odds-on favourite. Plus the older I get the less reliable all my health becomes, so any woman (especially those with children already as so many do by now) would basically be getting another one with me, unless my strength eventually returns. Having the work shared must help though so the stress would be cut in half from day one. But though I see a partner as a person and not a route to activities I never even thought I'd care where a partner would and wouldn't go. I want a partner and all the rest really has nothing to do with it, as all the going out in the world are peaks and when you go back to the empty house you're back where you started. And as I said, as I've roughly stopped caring if I add to any of my old lists- countries, football, all the things I've added most of my life, and now started the creative ones- TV appearances, paintings and published work. No going out related now. No need. And many women may be bothered by that though to me every woman I'd ever liked was enough in herself for me, with no interest where else they wanted to go.

Well, I see I've rehashed many old ideas in a different way, but unless life changes somehow for the better I'd be pushed to drag anything new into the picture. It's becoming a mystery how someone I know can have a plan of action, tell me the schedule and then drop it. It's as if he's not bothered and just too busy to stick to what he said, which shows a bit about focusing on what's around and not what's elsewhere. The plans appeared to be made already when the promise was made so I see little else as a reason besides not seeing it as important as I do, which of course to him it isn't as he chose to leave and chose not to come back, I'm the only one who actually is bothered about it. Case closed. Meanwhile a new friend has just gone away for a couple of months, to an internet free zone. Whether she will find it from time to time I do not know, but when you're paying a couple of Euros an hour you don't waste time reading people's blogs. I am left with the serious pains in the arse who are more like listening to interference on a radio than a programme and would rather turn the radio off. My father says as I'm nice to them (or in a few cases have sex) they hook on to me as so few other people can bear them. When they were in the background to real friends they were just an irritation. Now they indicate the social life has altered to mirror the love life, ie third best.

So, I see a pile of what I write every other day above this line, but I can't write fiction. With no one to talk to this is what I do instead. And the worry is this will go on for the rest of my life, as there's little reason why it won't and certainly nothing I can do about it (I have done every possible thing to try). Poor excuse for repetition but the only one I have. Like waiting for the end of a drough which may never happen. I'm not the only one, I meet more and more, and it's the most natural reaction to it.