I cast out my net and thought I would find a kinky artistic muse. I keep tossing the net out, but it returns empty. I think I must find the right crystals, incense, and chants to bring her to me. Any suggestions on which of these to choose?
pixabay
Now that I have allowed the artist in me to live once more, I have reawakened so much. The complex mindset, as I love experimenting with different mediums and subjects. Photos are good to the degree they don't move and are consistent and varied (beyond what I have in front of me). But photos lack one important feature: I can't touch and feel the subject.
In my early days, I mostly painted landscapes, seascapes, and abstract ideas. One art teacher explained portrait painting as he did it. He collected photos, made sketches of the actual person in front of him, and explained his thoughts as he planned the final product. His work sold for a price I can only dream of.
Yes, I will experiment, focus on different subjects, try different mediums, but I fear I may never have a companion, a lover, to feel and know intimately again. Now that I am free to paint nudes, 1 nothing would be better than painting a lover I can embrace and love. Paint her image in different ways and settings. Pixabay images
1 My wife was a sub and sexually free in our bedroom, but chose a religion that frowned on nude paintings. I followed her to church and complied with her attitude, but I knew we both truly didn't see art in a sinful light.
Maybe one morning I will awaken to find that I have a new woman in my life, and we are both in love. It could be that after sixty years of having a lover, I am now addicted to love. Absolutely not the worst addiction. Loving sex as part of it is superior to being addicted to sex. I defeated several challenges in my life, such as cigarettes and alcoholic beverages, but I never equate my desire for love as purely lust, so I will not wean myself from love.
Good morning, I slept well with over an hour of REM sleep because it turned cold overnight. A week into spring, and I missed the start, but the flowers were not taken by surprise; they bloom around the neighborhood. Last night, winter clawed at my house and chilled it nicely. I have managed to pay the enormous winter heating bills, and since my late wife isn't here, I have little reason to keep the temperature as high as I used to.
Every day holds a promise or a surprise. I am counting on a positive in my life to manifest itself. There isn't a single reason other than a feeling. Maybe I am being too optimistic. I know that romantic visions of Europe persisted during the three years I lived in a village, which heightened my desire to recapture that romance. Alas, I no longer have the financial means to become an expat. Maybe if I win the lottery.
I look in the mirror and wonder if anyone could like that guy. I don't look as old as I am, and I am still self-reliant. My finances have recovered, and I use some of my time with music and art. Still thinking about how much garden I want this year. Still trying to motivate myself to put away and deal with clutter and remnants of the past that are not sentimental.
I still miss having breakfast with a companion, but I wonder who would want a used car like me anyway. I really liked the Shortwave Radio in my old Simca because I listened to BBC news each evening at 18:00 local NJ time (LOL). (Pixabay photo)
Ultra Reality has engulfed me. When my wife was diagnosed with dementia, the first four years, we still could take a ride, a walk, shop, and have lunch together, even as her cognitive issues grew. By year five, that was down to rides to the doctor and fast food pick up to bring home, then by year seven I could only manage some of my doctor's appointments by hiring an aide to watch over her, and in the last three months, I relied on Hospice's help (so grateful to them).
I occasionally attempted to seek a companion, and the scammers destroyed my finances. Today, I am well on the way to financial recovery.
The rollercoaster of mourning is rough, though learning about the long goodbye helped a great deal. I live with my dog and cat, watch TV, play some guitar, sing for myself, and have begun working on some art. I have a hard time falling asleep even with melatonin, and I do have dreams, some of them not nightmares but unpleasant nevertheless. Last night I was startled to see an apparition.
I woke at about 2 am to my cat nudging me, and I saw a vivid image of my wife holding stuffed animals standing by my bedside. Ambivalent because I felt love and fear, I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, she was gone.
I have been cut off from dating for forty-one years, but last night I decided I need to resume my quest for a companion. What did I do? I opened an account with eHarmony, feeling both awkward and hopeful.
I have many positive things to share with a woman, and maybe the potential woman will have many positive things to share with me. I am not sure how to proceed, living in a town where I am still a stranger, with no friends and limited contact with family. I feel I have no choice. Yes, it costs money, and the first contact was without a doubt a scammer. I had her blocked. And, unsure of my dating abilities.
(pxabay)Here are two songs for my mistress, 1973 -1979, oh how much I loved her, and I know the love still lives in me after all this time (so true). My memories explode when I play and sing them again.
From my new urologist about my nonexistent sex life.
