So sorry to hear that. Let me know if there's anything I can do.

Last edited by sunra (2010-08-19 14:19:28)

Mmmm.

I was just never ever really strong enough for anything, Mate.
Born too soon, I was knackered before I started.
Being a scrapper takes you only just so far.
I'll go quiet now. 


My real life started with JS in '85. So let it end there too.

Ashes in the Thames.

T.I. has been such a laugh. The BEST people I've ever met online.

No self pity & no regrets. I've had such a lucky life because I've met so many wonderful people. And that's why we all ganged up to smite the bad guys.

- Keep that going, Mates.

One last word?

I'm as straight as fuck, but I want to go down letting the world  know that, before I met my wife, Mr. Patrick Nahman was the love of my life.

He never layed a finger on me, but he gave me such an education in style & in what it really means to be a human being.

I was too young & too timid, but I really should have let that big guy fuck me.

He quite litterally picked me up out of the gutter and gave me a life.

What do I care anymore?

That's my story.

That Big Fat Jew was such a "Christian" to me! 

Fact!

What I have to let go of is the battle to connect with people. It's a stuttering thing.

A Mitzvah.  Never forgot that.  Never.

I slightly hated how you knew more about him than I did for a while...

But there are levels to all of this.

I was a dumb kid to him. Always. Just a  look-out in the bogs.

With you he discussed much more.

GOD, I miss him.

I really have given up.

Which, I think, is the only thing which will help me to get better.

My desire to communicate is only a quirk. I can curb that.

And anyway what do I have left to do?

Katon educates the Trads.
This place runs its self now.
Ditto Modculture.
Chens does his schtick, although with just about zero credibility these days...
All the blogs tick over just fine. Whores & Bores all chatting away just dandy (apart from The Ivy League Look & Heavy Tweed - I'll always rate them).


It's over.


... Now I can just concentrate on Mango juice & the odd mid-afternoon hand-job.


But wot a laff it's all bin.


Blimey!

People of good intent usually start becoming talkative when faced with someone else's mortality. Some like that, being talked at, kept busy with things to think about. Others like to "coast a bit" and my wish is that everyone facing their demise should be able to do as they wish.

Some rage, some boast, some fight, some coast. It matters only to the person in question, really. The hard part is getting everyone else to respect this. As a (western) society, we suck at death. Much work do be done here. (Although morphine is a godsend.)

Now, I must be off.

What a bloody awful self-indulgent thread!

I've had a kip and I'm back to normal now.

... Now where's that Chensvold?   

It's the meds. They make you cry too. 'Orrible muck.