You Won’t Like My Silence

I once wrote someone a letter in which I suggested we ought to spend time together and have some discussions about life but I don’t think they were ever read. I wrote some follow up letters and shared them directly and in places where they could be found but there never was a response.

Thought about whether I would send flowers and and a note so that it would be something more tangible but wasn’t sure that would get response.

You could drop an orchid on a porch and hear nothing back, there are so many different possibilities but I did nothing of the sort.

I looked up at the sky and said “you won’t like my silence and you would be furious if I acted as you are.”

There was no answer and I snorted because I didn’t expect one. I shrugged my shoulders and figured again that things that are meant to be have a way of finding their way or not.

And then I told myself to tamp down the fire, especially if those that hurt you don’t care.

Thought about using that bit as part of some fragments of fiction but haven’t figured out if I like it enough to include it in something.

Posted another video on my Instagram story mostly because I am working on learning how to to use it more effectively and thought about the times when I have gone silent.

Because there are people out there who I have stopped speaking with for extended periods of time for a host of reasons.

I remember one of them screaming at me because we passed each other daily and I looked through them. It was pretty nasty on my part and I was much younger than I am now.

It strikes me because I have come to see silence as being very powerful. The refusal to communicate might be more insulting than any words you could use.

What Comes Next

Spent more time thinking about the various blogs and considered again about whether there are too many and the impact of shutting them down.

Stumbled across a story about how John Lennon’s first wife ran into financial trouble and started selling love letters John had sent her.

Apparently Paul McCartney got wind of this and bought a couple of the letters. He mailed them back to her with a note saying “never sell your memories.”

I appreciated that and it got me thinking again about the 10,000 posts that must exist and the task of trying to determine what work among them ought to be saved.

That is a hard question to answer because some much of our writing is subjective. I am not sure it requires an immediate answer so I am inclined to think about it but there is a part of me that says to just point, click and nuke.

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Got a host of doctor visits coming up including my cardiologist, ophthalmologist and the GI doc who will be shoving a camera up there soon to check on things.

Guess I’ll be getting a new pair of glasses soon and information on whether the polyps and internal gears are behaving as they should be.

Don’t ask me about the dream where I got hooked up with a pump and directions on the best Insulin to take.

I prefer the other dream where I could fly and spent time on an island where I was…pampered.

Divorced Dating Rules

A buddy of mine asked me for my advice on dating and I laughed. “I am not sure why you are asking me but if I was you I’d simplify things.

I wouldn’t try dating multiple women at once. That sounds like way too much work to me. How do you figure out if you like someone and how do you manage all of the other crap life throws at us. Life was easier when there were no responsibilities huh.”

He laughed and said he wasn’t as intense as me and I said that might be true.

“Do what makes you happy and if you find someone who treats you well I’ll be happy for you. Life is too short for nonsense.”

He laughed and told me that was far simpler than someone who had told him about divorced dating rules and I said it sounded like they were pushing a book or a class.

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I have come to really appreciate that Graham Greene quote above. It makes sense to me.

As a writer there is something nice about jumping into a story at whatever point feels right and jumping out the same way.

There is something to be said for chronology but so much of life happens in something that better resembles a squiggly line.