Am thinking that I might just burn some bridges this evening.

I've reached the end of this particular narrative. Look for me elsewhere.

Still wishing

There are opportunities to explore with other women, if I truly wanted them right now, but I don't. Sigh.

I'd rather be angry. I'd rather not still want to be with her. That's not happening, though.

That damn first hug. The world was a different place before that first hug.

How do two people get off a merry-go-round of anger?

I'm tired.

That's all for now.

Except -- I love you, Madi. I'll meet you in the middle in you'd come halfway.

One year later




Sakurako Handa
May 8, 1968, to July 14, 2005.

Remember

July 12, 2006

It was a short and messy war. It's over. Now, I just want to sleep.

After an extended (and angry) e-mail battle of 'Whose Fault was It Anyway?', my former lady love and I have ceased hostilities. We've agreed to a reboot for the sake of civility.

We're not together and most probably will never be again. Perhaps we can be friends. We will find out in time.

I wish her happiness — those beautiful eyes had shone so brightly when we first met. I hope she gets that joy back.

The last six lines from "How to Ride Out a Storm" by Mildmay Fane seem appropriate to the moment:

And whilst the fury and the rage
Leaves little hope for anchorage;
Yet if she can but make a coast
In any time, she'll not be lost,
But in affection's bay will find
A harbour suited to her mind.

For me, now, I guess it's time to start stacking cards again. Got me a house to build. This time, though, maybe I'll use glue.

And there will be time for romance later. Maybe. Although, the thing with the20-year-old. Well, I don't think it's going to happen. After expressing initial interest, she hasn't returned my calls. Wise lass. I'm not worried. Somehow, I don't think that a lack of opportunities is going to be my problem.

The first step is an easy one. I was up late, spending time at the Preservation Pub and the Electric Ballroom, in my quest to just be around people. Tonight I stay home and get some sleep.
I'll sort the rest out later. Everything will be (at least marginally) better in the morning.

Being the "love of (someone's) life" is a fragile status. It can apparently be shattered by a moment's anger, directed at an inanimate object. Rather severe standards, but it's her choice.

I'll be fine. We'll remain friends. I'll keep living and trying to follow my bliss. Perhaps I'll find someone new to share it with. We'll see.