Multi Media

Why are there no pictures on my blog? Because I bleed enough of the content my heart on this blog that a total stranger can paint my portrait accurately!

Anyway, concentration spans being what they are nowadays, I do not blame modern so-called readers for being unwilling to trudge through walls of text while their multiple social media accounts are chock-full of funny memes and videos.

Behold, here be text.

I don't know which is the biggest hindrance to relationships today; pride or fear.

Pride is that guy or girl ( perhaps you) who likes someone else but thinks it beneath their dignity to let them know, or to sustain contact. Si you have two likers not using their cellular gadgets to stay in touch but wishing the other would initiate it. And they both stare longingly at each other's contact hoping by some unknown forces of telekinesis to trigger an incoming call by focussing a diabolical glarr on the phone contact. It never works even though both should combine their simultaneous efforts in this black art. As reality dawns, fervor cools, and all too quickly both become hardened in mutual resentment. Nor is this the end the matter, no. Not being fully conscious of their real motive, they both set out to prove to one another how they don't need one another anyway, and thus their attraction, un-actualized, becomes the chief cause of their estrangement to each other's mutual harm! Twisted but true.

Fear is that guy or girl (perhaps you?) who's all about protecting themselves from heartbreak. Instead of saying "nothing ventured nothing gained," which is correct, they say "Nothing ventured nothing lost." Which also is correct in a glass half empty kind of way. So they wallow in a multitude of shallow associations, quickly wading out the minute they start to get wet. Perhaps one day long ago they went skinny dipping in the lake and inadvertently drank more murky water than they intended, requiring mouth to mouth resuscitation after being fetched some distance beneath the surface, or worse, being found washed ashore barely alive. Since then even sitting on the shore is torture to such and the word "swimming" is thoughtcrime and they steer all conversations well away from the topic.

Which is worse? Fear or pride?

Resurrection

This is awkward.

No, I am not addressing that to blog readers as the forerunner to an oft-repeated apology about neglecting the blog and swearing to write more regularly. I think them too intelligent to be repeatedly taken for fools on such recurring and unvarying round trips.

I am neglecting the blog officially, the way I usually do, when unexpected events in my personal life have not violently beaten the living ennui out of me, at least momentarily.

Nowadays listlessness like cling film inures me from the joy of existence, nor does the fire inside register more heat than ashes in a fireplace with the odd surviving ember complacently giving up the ghost.

But here's the awkward part. Just when I'm ready to march absentmindedly through the rest of my life, resigned to pursuing everybody else's dream seeing as my own lie buried all around me in the cemetery that my memory has become, the corner of my eye  detects an unexpected movement, amidst the headstones.

And a hand emerges from the ground, followed closely by its counterpart, after which the grave beneath half-heartedly surrenders its unwilling occupant, for she, apparently prematurely buried, refuses to remain therein.

Her headstone remained blank, nor did I ever dare to frivolously breathe her name while she lived, but she afflicts me enough cardiac damage upon her reincarnation to make me locate the blog again, I'll tell you that much...