Mayday

It's four o'clock in the morning, damn it.-- Bernie Taupin

I have a post in draft I wish to finish about Leonard Cohen's signature lyric, but I am juggling so many issues, along with events tied to them, that I merely stopped by to make a pout, wishing my twitter accounts could ideally stay stable more than a week, with yet another block for reasons unknown. The fact that I drive a very hard bargain, not all the time, but when I do, doesn't mean I am always right to do so, but it also doesn't mean I can change my spots simply because I've never been happy before and now I am happy because someone I desire desires me. I never had that people, odd as it may seem, and as I reiterate constantly, I'm near the end of my life and would say I don't appreciate divine humor on that score-- I know too, that being wanted doesn't change I have a lot of shit thrown at me and a lot of shit to repair, which doesn't make sense if read literally. My fiances are now even more strained, and after Monday, the seventh, I have to rebuild a resume, make a do or die effort to unlock crucial Office 7 files into my Word upgrade, and get back to work, however clumsy my pitching may be. I do not have a relationship with my mother's brother, my godfather, but he rushed my new power chair, and maybe extended me some further small wedge of freedom. We can never quite discount personal connections, or loyalties which we value, but scouts honor I'll get the fuck off my non- existent but anticipated resumption of my sex life, sucking all the oxygen out of my discipline and energy. Bad girl, and it's nearly three am.