Welp. That sounds a little ominous. Anytime anyone says "Everything happens for a reason" they usually mean "That sucked!" And all I feel at the moment is my feathers ruffled. I guess, lo and behold, after all my bitching about it, I got used to Saturn in my sign (review: cosmically imposed solitary confinement) . . . there is a lot that I like about the way of being that I've developed, especially in the last year, which involves lots of productivity and a small-circle social life that is maintained by nearly daily offerings of helpfulness. A pie, a note, a favor, a small present like a Magic Hat bottle cap that reads "be in peace, not in pieces", a saying that I like even better on a beer cap. I realize: my ideal patter of days is a kind of busy monastic one. I want a man to enter into that as a person might jump into a game of double dutch. Can you jump in and out without tangling my shit to a dead stop? What is the trade-off risk, between having someone to be/play with (somewhat/times) and having you fall all over me? In most cases, mmmm, too high methinks. Today was music lesson day, can you tell? All the attention this week, it's literally given me a nervous stomach ache now. Enough already.
Meanwhile, aside from the ongoing re-fi and whatnot projects, I've started making a series of 78 collages, playing card size. For obvious purposes. And sole ownership of those purposes. One per day.
