Isolated Blurt Thread

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I dreamed last night that The Nostalgia Chick lived in my (unfinished and unlivable) basement, was in love with me, but wouldn't let me do more than hug her, and wouldn't let me touch her butt even. Teasing bitch...
 
The other night I dreamt I was hanging with Angeline, Chipbutty and Jthserra (he was a she though) at a poet conference.
 
Cliches are linguistic zombies that will eat the brains right out of your poetry.:D
 
I miss You so much already. This is back to being just an aparment and not a home. Home is where You are.
 
Postcards from Hell: Day 31

Narcissistic Personality Disorder. This is the answer I've sought for decades. The more research I do, the more the puzzle pieces fall into place. You, my dear, are more than a narcissist, you are mentally ill.

Those things that have always annoyed me are now explained:

The tantrums; the inability to admit when you don't know something (in fact, you know EVERYTHING, and you've done it all, too), the lies, the illusions of grandiosity you fight so hard to maintain, the affairs, the flirting, the promiscuity ... all the things you've done in the past that have wounded those closest to you, are explained.

The truly unfortunate part? You are not even cognizant of your actions.

Although knowing this helps me to deal with your insanity on a daily basis, it doesn't negate the feelings of frustration; it just explains them. The knowledge I've gained about your condition comes packaged with sadness, too. It saddens me to learn that you'll never get better, that in fact, as you continue to age, you'll get worse.

I send a prayer to the universe that I will continue to have the patience necessary to see through the facade so that I can continue to find, and love, the kernel of truth within you.
 
What I need is a "Fast Forward" button.
This radio-therapy is a real drag. 1 down; 5 to go.

::hugs and hands you that remote control from that Jim Carrey movie:: Hopes that helps.


~~~~~~~~~~
My random blurt: I'm writing a sex scene and eating a banana. The irony is not lost on me.
 
Today we visited an elderly gentleman who lives in part of a ruined castle.

The views from his house/castellated building of the rest of the castle were spectacular and not normally available to the public unless, like us, you were visiting one of the part-owners.

The castle was Strawberry Hill Gothic, not genuine medieval, but the walls, battlements and towers were on the scale of a full-sized ancient castle. We had to drive through the outer gatehouse, across where the inner moat used to be, and through the inner gatehouse to the castle yard.

We were visiting him to discuss family history research. We found that he might have common ancestors with both my wife and me (if we go back to the 18th Century) and he remembered where my wife's great-grandparents used to live. His memories were interesting because he had lived through so much of the 20th Century.

He lives alone in his part of the castle and is very much involved in the village's affairs, having been a Parish Councillor and Justice of the Peace for many years until he retired.

His age? 97.

Even older than me.

Og
 
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