Strangely, to me anyway, is that I kind of miss the writing

Strangely, to me anyway.

…

Things haven’t been just falling into place. I’ve actually have had to nudge things into place and sometimes I have had to actually make an effort to be successful.

It has been sometimes not dissimilar to work.

Everything seems to be an effort lately.

…

They were walking side by side down the stairway not leaving any room for someone to walk up the stairs. He was a well dressed white guy in his late twenties. She was an attractive Asian woman of the same age. They were kind of close to the last step so I stood flat footed on the right side at the bottom. I felt that they guy heading towards me should realize that this particular staircase, in this particular subway station wasn’t for his sole use. But to his arrogant, poppas credit, he didn’t give me space. And to my self-righteous, city-punk credit, I shoulder checked him a bit which cause him to change direction.

I thought of all the snide things that I could have said but nothing productive would have come from a verbal exchange, so I just ascended the stairs.

…

I still don’t feel the need to post but then I’m not certain that I ever did. I wonder why I have posted so many times for so many years. I think I might find a partial answer in my archives but I have no desire to read them.

Lately, I have so little desire.

There is still a good bit of lust though.

Actually, that’s not true; the lust is waning as well.