Saturday's excoriae

I survived a week of continual bombardment and am still in one piece. There were a couple of good bits as well and as my health was improved it made quite a difference. Unfortunately I now have nothing here and nothing in the way of TV to look forward to, which was at the time the only thing keeping me sane. Now I accept the reality I just have to live as it is without a prize of fame in the near future to tell me it won't last long as it is. No fame, no woman and no company. And if some people have their way no money either.
Can it all fall apart? Not as long as you've got your health. That should get you through everything whether or not you enjoy it.

I have to break my rule in general and look ahead. Only because there's a chance in a year and twenty years everything will be the same. That would mean no new women (or ones I want anyway), no fame, no extra money and still living here or somewhere similar in a better area writing for pleasure and doing sod all work. Unless my meditation starts to produce results which make me feel good regardless I will no doubt be bored out of my mind most of the time and have a trail of creations piled up around me and on the computer which though an expression of my talents change nothing.

I have had some nice compliments though. Just clues I'm on the right track and keep going. The only caveat is not to let any true success go to my ego. Whatever I can do isn't my doing but a gift and no credit to me. As long as I always apply that rule it won't mess me up. One very long project I have is to select the relevant parts of this blog and put them on a CD and try and get it published. It may never be but at least I'll have some work put away for posterity.

Question, does doing exactly the same things but sharing them make them better? I think so, as who else both knows what I've done alone or can talk to me while I'm doing it? As we spend more time at home as a rule (besides at work which isn't applicable to me) surely having someone there is most important as the ordinary stuff we all do at home is somehow special when shared with someone. Who else ever sees what I've put on the computer or written in my notebooks? Or for that matter ever uses them themselves apart from me? It's no wonder I've turned peculiar, how many years are we meant to take the same situation, gradually becoming worse as people leave and work dries up until it's just me and an empty house? It can't just affect me that way, anyone else would become a bit odd sooner or later, I just don't pretend to hide it. I could be like the British who treat a leg hanging off like a minor inconvenience while running a marathon, or the Jew I am and wear my heart, lungs and liver on my sleeve. At least we don't use alcohol as a treatment, we feel everything but keep our heads clear. One thing I can see today from what I've written is there really is no point. Excoriae. Shed skin. That's all it is, but the new snake seems just like the last one.