Originally published on February 5, 1997
Hate Jack if you gotta (you'll have to stand in line, as I've noted I was there first), but a world without relationships, or a world without men, ain't all it's cracked up to be.
Despite all my clamor, and the recent dismissal of two of my supposedly closest friends after what was to be a very happy holiday turned to mud, I have always and will always yearn for the trusting, giving, mutually satisfying relationship, on either level, friendshipping or loveresque. I've always desired what I've understood as the near perfect union of Will and Ariel Durant, authors of that multivolumed set of THE HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION.
Won't burden you with the details here as you may already know the tale, but they really set the standard for all time. The other (one I'm seriously considering) is the 12th love tragedy of Abélard and Heloise. Yes, I'm thinking of castration, end of lust, fixation on the feminine, finish the task started by nature with the cryptorchidism I suffered as a youth, commiserate with the pets who suffered the blade, just to allow myself to focus more in working out the philosophies and poetries I know the world needs to hear JUST ONE MORE TIME, no, I know that's not the case, but I just want to explore the terrain. The surgery might actually lead to an improvement in the direction of my thinking about the clutches of gender and guts, but chances are this sentence will probably end any further discussion of it. Read it how you will.
Glad to hear you're back in the saddle (the workplace, not Jack's cockadoodledoo). I was beginning to worry about you.