Rob-world

Given my recent Facebook  posts It is  or can be no secret  that  I’m horribly depressed.   I have no  life, and few friends.  Other than these brief entries, I don’t  write.   In part, because it’s exponentially  harder to type;   in part, too, because I have no new experiences coming in. It’s NOT his fault at all, but I’d hoped/thought when I made  Gil a co-trustee, it would mean my writing needs come to the fore.  Since I don’t even know what  they are: it is wildly unfair of me to expect this of him. So, what are they? As long as Grendel lives, so do I.

I mean, my life has gone from one therapy wheel to another the last 15 years.  Now that my most recent tour of Moss duty  is over, I need to replace it with something, but what?  As  it stands, my life is a big, empty void.  Butch's tendency is to fill it  up with crap ... but I think just the opposite tact is artfully, desperately needed.  I need the hollowness of the void that is/has become my life, to echo with the empty  reverberations of my desires and achievements.   And find out, what's next?

Today, well. yesterday as I write this,  was my last day of p.t. and o.t. at Moss.  I'm so freaking tired.  Butch escorted me to and from on the subway; so I wouldn't  have to deal with my mortal enemy, Paratransit.  Mighty white  of him.

Cirigliano, with Butch.  On the way there and back and he raised an interesting point: I often treat him as a friend, instead of an employee.  I admit, I’ve allowed the line to too  often blur, because I’ve been unsure of where to draw it, especially with the traveling we’ve done to Dublin and San Francisco.  But, I allowed the lines to blur. I take  responsibility for that. All I have do is quit it; make sure it’s clear, for both of us.  In short, I need more friends. Which  has kind of been my unceasing refrain, this past decade.

Meeting for Business afterward.   Long day with Friends; Carol Spawn was there; up from D.C.  It’s always great to see her; even if only for a few moments.  For a while there, right after my Mom died, she filled in for me as an almost surrogate mom.  She hosted my Dad, the few times he came up to see me, she and Wilman too,1x before he died; 1x after.  She has gay son, too;  which probably helps account for the almost family-like vibe, I’ve felt both from and towards her, in the  past.  And, presently.   She really came to the fore when I came back from Ireland.   I think, as the mother of a gay son, my assault was especially galvanizing for her, a “there but for the grace of God,” kind of thing.