If you are a person I have said I Love You too, then no matter what has happened twixt you and I, on some base level, I still love you. It varies of course, but those words change you when you hear or when you speak them. It doesn’t matter if it is filial love, platonic love, romantic love or the other kinds that I will let lovers of the Greek language explain better than I can. Love is a spellword, a potent verbal talisman that SHOULD change you when it is spoken. It should alter you in a way that fits why you said the word in the first place. If you do not agree with me on this that is fine, but if I have told you that I love you, know this is how I see it and nothing you do or not do will ever change my thinking on the situation.

Mondays, am I right?

I mean, I got up a little before half-past three this morning. I can say that I didn’t need to, which technically I didn’t, but as anyone who has ever had a bizarre work schedule can tell you, after a while you don’t need alarms, you are just awake then because your body hates you and has grown accustomed tot he hatred it has for you and needs to share that seething fury by waking you up even when there is no school for your children that day because it is a Sunday and you went to bed an hour before and there is nothing but darkness and shadow in your mind and heart now……Or something like that.

There is going to be some writing today, some Siobhan and Pater Noster most likely in addition to this and maybe another thing. I am not doing it because I feel the need to either, I genuinely want to continue the stories and see where I can take them. I know that some are more popular than others, after all that is what analytic software is for, but there is only so much of a certain thing I can pump out every day before it starts coming out like sewage water and there is no substance except for the shit it is. Plus it is boring to write the same thing all the time, not about the same thing mind you, THE SAME THING. I can write erotica for days, but, the way I write it because it isn’t very good, it is the same thing over and over again and that is something that precisely no one in the world wants.

It just occurred to me that while this week is full of learning things for my young folk, next week they are off on Monday for what I will call Armistice Day because it makes more sense than Veterans Day. I mean, they signed it on the eleventh hour, on the eleventh day, of the eleventh month. Anyway, I just have to remember that so on Sunday night when I am thinking of sleepy time things, they won’t hammer me with the fact that they are free things that next morning and sleep is something that will be even worse, even though I don’t have to get up for them at all.

Thanksgiving is sooner rather than later and there is always a sad in my heart when it comes to it now that Naomi is gone. See she didn’t get to grow up with it as I did, she didn’t get any of the holidays actually. So when she and I got together I got to give her Christmas and Halloween, Thanksgiving and her birthday and while two of those have passed, the hardest two are coming up. It is also sad because I don’t know how to fucking cook and no matter how many times my long-suffering best friend tries to teach me things, I am hopelessly inept at anything past ramen noodles, and this is coming from a guy who literally melted a hole in the bottom of a pot because I got high, forgot I was cooking and left it on the burner for like, a day and a half.

Of course, the biggest thing this month is my wedding anniversary. It would have been fifteen years for us on the 20th. I can still remember that Saturday morning in Brockport. Her dress was red and black and she looked like perfection itself. I was a shaking ball of nerves and yes, I will admit, at last, it was I that dropped her wedding ring into the heat register. My brother was her Maid of Honor, Tim was my Best Man. My mother was there and I am still not sure if that is a plus or not. My sister and her friends, who I had known since I was in my early teens in some cases, were there and were so very happy for the both of us. Elder Duck was such a little guy and my sister took him for the night and Naomi and I promptly got drunk and fell asleep in the living room. We went to Friendly’s the next morning and spent a shit ton of money on things we probably shouldn’t have bought at all. Her parents, who refused to come to the ceremony, paid for the things and bought us a couch. We were so happy, so perfectly content to sit there in our little apartment with one little dude with our Connorface on the way.
If only any of us got to stay in the fantasy life we envisioned for ourselves.

I think that I will take a few minutes and see some things before I start writing the next thing. It is good to see the words come out of the brain as quickly and effortlessly as they are today, this bodes well methinks. Siobhan, Pater Noster, maybe something else if the creativity flows the right way.


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