Injuries addendum.

When I landed on my left arm, it compressed against my ribs and now my ribs there hurt - just below my left breast. I hope that it is simply a bruise and will dissipate soon. It hurts to cough or sneeze and I am decidedly not going biking tomorrow.

what to do.

Has the cycle repeated itself yet?

Are we at the end or it is merely the beginning of the end?

Patience has worn thin for both L and I lately. She is needing it for herself and hasn't any to spend on me. Mine has simply worn away from overuse. And so haven't any left over for much else. Also, reviewing everything in her sessions, saps what she has even more since it is almost like reliving the past again and reliving the emotions that pour through the raw openings rent by our memories.

I am trying to connect again but I am getting the distinct impression that she has finally tired of me and is unable to sustain the emotion that is required to maintain two simultaneous relationships. She is probably not too far off the mark, but it doesn't change that I miss her all the more. As I've said, we are both in this state, whereas in the past we almost either staggered it or I was fresh and in a position to give all I could. I suppose I've started asking for myself now as well.

Why has everything seemingly come to a crux? a crossroads, one of those cosmic tumblers in the lock of the universe has shifted and one can't see through the keyhole anymore. It is asking you to turn the key and see what happens. L is my luck. Without her, I feel adrift again. It will take some time to find the seaway and make headway again. I do hope that she finds someone that she is attracted to, and has not only the time but the wont to be responsive with her.

As for me, I am frustrated, tired, impatient and not sure what to do. I am trying to let go and see what God turns up but I doubt that I should expect much to come my way given my behaviour of late. Nor from L. I am going to have to make myself happy again. That old smile has left and all I see in the mirror of late is a frown or a sigh. Where has the little boy gone? where did this brooding doom-and-gloom come from? When did I let this evil inside me? I don't remember.

When you should see me again, wish me well.

A new biking adventure. Well, even misadventures are adventures.

Went biking after the dental appointment today. Nothing strenuous, just the flattish trails in pacific Spirit park at UBC. It was, however, the first time that I'd encountered rapidly twisting and turning narrow trail backed on both sides by close trees and fallen branches, the shoulders composed of loose gravel, stones and dirt. Loose enough that one's foot would sink in about 2 inches were one to step into it purposefully. All this makes for an exasperating start, but once I discover the usefulness of brakes and slowing into the turn and leaning slightly (the catch word is slightly) , I'm much happier. Until I notice that I'm about to ride over a fallen branch, whose short yet undoubtedly stout appendage is about to enter the whirling spokes of my front wheel. That is not the beginning of a good day. So I try to turn, but like some superferry, or worse yet, like the Titanic, the turn kicks in ever so slowly that I am sure not to avoid the larger upright tree behind the fallen branch, so I lean over and somehow manage to squeeze the brakes as well, and seeing as how these new disc brakes work so well, I come to a complete, abrupt stop. And since I am at an angle in mid-lean, momentum does its thing and time for me slows down. This is not so good as it heralds the beginning of what I have come to recognise as "an accident". Which misbegotten madman thought in his infinite wisdom that it would be a good things to cover the breadth of the trail in small, loose and auto-sharpening gravel? I sense that I am trying to get off my bike but something won't disengage and I feel as if I am cartwheeling through the air after the first bounce. I then instantly register the expected pain of gravel (hard and sharp) meeting my skin on my forearm (soft and flat) and shin (soft and flat) and calling forth blood. The lacerations sting immediately and my first thought is "I wonder if someone's dog has pooped here recently". A previous wobbly fall had disengaged my chain from the gears and now I add gear grease on my fingers into the wounds on my arm and leg as I brush away the archipelago of gravel bits. That didn't take long, only half an hour. So I bear with it for another half and hour as I trundle my way back to the car in my first setback. I did, however, learn quite a bit. I will need to practice more on those things. The trail as well as the bike.

Loneliness. May you neither have the misfortune nor the mind to be lonely.

Is it somehow meant to strengthen us? Whose idea of molding a man included the notion that he must first feel the pangs of loneliness before he begins to stir in him the real emotion of fellowship? Couldn't it be possible that someone somewhere somehow is able to be all these things that are necessary for a real friendship in a relationship? Honesty, loyalty, kindness, care, concern, touch, intimacy - is it really necessary to have the curse of loneliness set upon you before you truly have a broad reach of these things? I said mentioned before that I have felt adrift. Like a ship without a sail, tossed about in the storms. The image hasn't changed for I still feel lost, powerless and unsure of where and what I am supposed to be doing, and as a result, charging at each new sighting of hope on the horizon - only to see that hope is as fleeting as the glimmer over the water.

I am fully conscious that I am manufacturing new outlets for my energy. Or at least joining the preconceived outlets like cricket, bicycling, and now the wont to go riding on horses. I do not know yet if these are meant to do much more than give me a little enjoyment. Mere games. Little expanded versions of our old board games that the parents used to buy for us to occupy our time so that they could have a moment's peace; except that we are doing it for ourselves. There must surely be others like me who feel that they are like pawns in a bigger which from their vantage point, can see neither the board nor the players. Surely there must be a solid purpose to this life; my life that has borne me through childhood and over the many seas and lands, and has kept me from death thus far. What is it? I feel a welling up of a voice inside of me. It is that of a soul beating furiously at this ungainly, slow-moving and lethargic prison made up of greasy atoms - my body. My soul is yelling and screaming inside of me and I plod along, not really able to do much more than exist. It is like being a passenger in a car during an accident. Time does seem to slow down and you can almost see the accident developing right before you very eyes but your stupid body is frozen, motionless, and unable to do anything to prevent you from being involved. Has your soul jumped out for an instant to tell you what will be happening? Perhaps it is simply saying loudly that it does not want to be taken in the direction that I seem to be going?

Call me selfish. I'm lonely. I miss the everyday activity of having a warm friend nearby. It really needn't be said that this friend is a she or he. She friends are nice but they tend to be very standoffish because they don't want to give you the impression that they are interested in you. They don't mind being acquaintances, and are loathe to validate the very existence of it but are actually very cognizant of our baser animal instincts and how it guides our social behavior. They don't want to seem to be leading you on but that is precisely what they are doing, consciously or not and are requiring a constant top up of their needs. Like any beautiful sportscar, you admire the shape and lovely lines and curves, and you wouldn't mind a ride, but deep down there is a sparkle of doubt in knowing that it will be dangerous and you really won't know if you are controlling it, or visa versa. I'd prefer a more reliable model myself. Less heartache.

There will, undoubtedly, be those who will frown (if so pleasing a word can be used to depict their feeling) upon my equating a woman to a car. They are both, however, beautiful and pleasing to the eyes. I miss the smell of a woman, especially her scent and her soft moist skin in the morning when she rouses from the warm bed. I miss the smell of her hair and the delicate tangles that sift effortlessly through your open fingers. I miss the way a woman puts her hand on your thigh while driving, or cuddles your arm while walking. I miss being mesmorized by the hypnotic swaying motion of that little curve where her waist meets her hip, where your hand instinctively curves around her as your hold her by the waist. I think women are sexiest when they are still, whereas men are defined by motion and action.

At any rate, I'm still lonely.