Nov 26th

I'm going to be following the advice of two different folks today. One is a correspondent I've never met, and the other is an old dear lover.

First of all, I recently gathered my ego into a bucket and submitted my journal to one of those folks who reviews and critiques similar journals. She, Elioise Moosehead of "The Real Diary Critic", wrote a fairly complimentary entry, with a few minor comments on style. One thing she did mention that caught me, however, was "...of course, it's a kinky sex diary and it can be fun to read about what other people are doing. Yet, I think it's missing something. It almost reads like a point by point manuscript. I'd rather it had more personal feel to it. I can't put my finger on it really, but I think the author isn't revealing all his personal feelings about what he is doing." Which of course is absolutely correct. Over the past few months I've been thrust into a painful relationship situation, poly angst of a most hurtful sort. I've made a big mistake in taking what appeared to be 'the high road', bottling things up inside and speaking only in the most polite terms that never really addressed how my emotions were festering inside. After seeing Eloise's comments I had pretty well decided, "Well, all righty then, I should just get it all out in black and white".

Part of what I've been doing to resolve the uninvited vacancies on my social calendar has been to reach out to those long time friends and lovers whom I began neglecting when I became lost to NRE last spring. Omaha and I had a wonderful date last night, our first in too long. We did a couple hours at Tubs before moving on up to the Ave to Costas for Saganaki and dinner. I have to admit to becoming a predictable creature of habit - I'm so hooked on the Saganaki that it's truly sad. Omaha and I have been friends and lovers for years. Off and on for more years I can enumerate we've had what we called our "Every Third Friday" date, even though through her pregnancy, our other lovers, and the other roller coasters of life the scheduling has been erratic. I picked her up at her place down by the airport, snuggled with her cute hubby for a bit of catch up and shared smiling faces with their toddler. On the long drive, soak, and dinner we talked a lot. A whole lot. The troubles I've found myself in. The very different problems that are affecting her in many of the same ways as mine are me. We reaffirmed our dedication to resuming our scheduling, gifted each other with orgasms, planned some shamanic time for soon, and it was great. One suggestion she had - coming full circle to my opening - was to take all of the emotions, thoughts, unexpressed this or expressed that, and write them down. Write down everything possible I feel about my current situation and put it away for a month or two, at which time I should review it and see how things look then.

Eloise and Omaha are both right. I do need to open up and stop only presenting the glossy PC version of what I write, however in this current situation it could do more harm than help to just vomit it all out onto the screen cuz it seems like the right thing to do. I'm going to sit down this week sometime and put it all into a long note and seal it in an envelope, and create a Time Machine to be opened at sometime after the first of the year. You, dear readers, may or may not hear some of that note at that time. Or I might burn it. Or reseal it for a while again.

One of Eloise's comments was that my traditional closing line - a variation on Life Is Good - got on her nerves. She's entitled to her opinion, of course, although I won't be changing anything about it. Those who have read here for a long time know that it's truly an affirmation, a dedication, as much as a commentary. Over the past few months life has included love, pain, pleasure, illness, health, betrayal, triumph, humiliation and much more of all colors. Through it all I've held to that one proclamation above all others - life is good. Without that, this would all be a typing exercise. Thanks for your time and attention.

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