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A gentle rain set in during the early morning hours. I thought I heard it during the night, but didn't care enough to get up and look outside. This morning I opened the upstairs door that goes out on the the deck, and sure enough the brownish preserved wood I made the deck from was spattered with rain. Close to the door it looked drier, so I guess the rain is coming in from the south. Probably the forerunner to a cool front.
Autumn is definitely "in the air" now. Good sleeping weather. I think these male hot flashes I get have something to do with my skin getting thinner and easier to bruise. The saying that you're only as old as you feel is senseless to me. In my dictionary getting old is only as thick as my skin.
I've watched people get old all my life. So has everyone else. If not your own kinfolk, then your next door neighbor. Everybody knows what getting old "looks like" and when you look in the mirror and see that you "look like" the people you watched get old, then you're old. No matter what you "feel like".
Not too much time passes from the time I see an article about famous movie stars getting old with pictures from the paparazzi to prove it. to the next article about other famous people getting old. Nobody wants it to happen to them, but they seem delighted that it happens to other people too.
I like using the expressions "procreative sex" and "recreative sex" to distinguish between the delight of pretending to have sex for the fun of it, and having sex with the specific purpose of making babies. These terms represent the difference between the astrology signs Taurus (procreative) and Scorpio (recreative).
Sex for whatever reason can be described as a paradox because two people having sex can each pretend to be having sex for reasons that rare different than their partner. Either can think both of them intend for their sexual activity to happen as a form of entertainment when one of them don't. They can consciously think they're avoiding making a baby when their protection fails sort of intentionally on purpose.
I never thought I was trying to make babies when I had sex with women, but unconsciously I was. Every single time apparently. I only discovered that in retrospect after the vasectomy was performed. It was the way I felt afterward that informed me with no uncertainty or doubt. I had a hard time dealing with it.
Undergoing that vasectomy procedure was the real cause of my divorce from my second wife. When she got drunk with her girlfriends and they convinced her that if she had more babies she would lose her girlish figure. If her girlish figure was more important to her than her husband and children, then there was no reason to have sex with her or live with her anymore. With both our tubes tied we became robots instead of human.
I don't know what her reasons were. Our roles with each other seemed reverse. She didn't talk about her thoughts and feelings so much. Not with me. Not with the guy who was her fiance before me. Not with her true love before both of us. I talked. It was if she relied on me to speak for her, but disagreed with my assessment as a form of personality.
Her mother died in the last year of so. Her mother was the bane of her ex-is-tense. Now, my ex-wife has become her mother. The mother who hated me with a passion, and agreed to let her daughter marry me to prevent another abortion. I knew I was a bargaining chip.
I should have run for my life instead, but I couldn't let them kill the child to keep the prospective mother from getting stuck married to a wino. By marrying her I sort of won a fight with the mother, but it was a Pyrrhic victory, I lost by winning. This Black Widow's final crushing blow after she murdered her own husband was to turn her daughter into her self in order to take my children as her own, and wound me from the grave. My children's mother is really their grandmother now, and soon enow, she'll be-co-me one of them. My ex-wife is probably my grandson by now.
I make all this stuff up, you know, I don't know what the truth is, and never have except in the specious present. I use words to capture drifting thoughts just to see what they might look like if they had a body. I'll never get a job in Hollywood as a costume designer.
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I do not attempt to tell the God's own truth here because I don't know what the truth is or hardly ever. I try to capture the drifting thoughts that randomly appear in my imagination for reasons I may not understand. I don't know if the content I capture with these words is true or false. The Comments settings are turned off to prevent me from having to defend what amounts to little more than fanciful, sometime crude speculation. Great moments in our lives never return.
