Fine food and Chardonnay.

Replacement exercise and hot role play.

Expanded waistline here to stay.

Relationships have gone away.

.

The air is cool now, almost no humidity. Anything seems possible. I am feeling light and free. The weight of the  world has been lifted from my shoulders. The struggles are far from over. I just won’t be doing it alone.

I have reached out for help and help is coming in the form of beauty and grace… This is the version of the story I choose to believe, because in the end there has to be hope and love or really, what is it all for anyway?

They said “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”

“Nonsense!” I replied.

I have mastered online banking.

For my next trick I will attempt to endure suffering without complaint.

She is dripping in her darkness now. Pushing words like death and pain and suffering.

“You have tangoed with the Devil to long.” Her words screamed from the page.

Then she added, “Find forgiveness for your mother.”

Obviously she is not reading this blog for forgiveness and love for mine was achieved long ago. I believe this is what the therapists refers to as projection. It is she who has not found forgiveness for her mother.

And as far as doing the tango with the Devil or anyone else, I’m afraid I just am not a dancer.

There is enough pain and madness to go around for everyone and this world just keeps on spinning.

Every morning on the train, I get a ticket that states the time and what day of the year it is… Day 84.  March 25th, 2025.  Time is flying now.

All my life people have argued with me. I am wrong, they say. Fuck it. I am past caring.

I stay silent. I am invisible now. Old.

I am not alone. There’s many of us old fuckers. We could form an army. However, none of us can agree on anything.

I watch the young switching genders like suits or dresses and know in 100 years this will just be a note at best in a text or a novel where the curious wonder how we could have let this happen and some old bastard will mumble: “education and white women and Socialism was the Genesis.” As he waves to masses from his car window,”flying.”

Dennis Mantin

Roses are Red

Life Isn’t Fair

The Big Head Speaks

And I Don’t Care.

When men feel stress, they process.

When women feel stress, they talk.

Generally speaking, women feel uncomfortable with the men’s process because it happens in silence.

For a man to talk when he’s stressed only increases his stress.

I’ll just leave this here and go away for a while and write…

Talk among yourselves

OR

Process by yourself.