Drink of choice: Would’ve been my Father’s birthday today, so a Vodka Martini, rocks, olives. Enjoyed many with him. Gotta go this one by myself, but not alone.
Music of choice: Feeling lazy. Apple Radio, Indie & Alternative. Its working.
Got castrated Thursday. Again. Six down, seven to go. Talk about “Groundhog Day.” Bill Murray ain’t seen nothing. Welcome to the Long Middle. The start is far enough behind, but the end is not in sight. A bit like life, really.
Fighting the urge to cry and I have no fucking idea why. (“Blitkrieg Bop”, The Ramones. You bet).
Walked around all day today and could barely stay connected to my legs. No idea what’s up with that. Just couldn’t really feel them. Vaguely aware of their existence, knew they were providing locomotion, but just wasn’t connected to them.
Exercise has been sparse. Work, weather, powerful drugs. A diablo conspiracy. But I finally did two consecutive lifts. Harder than hard. But I did it. (Now “Psycho Killer”- it all adds up). There has been some slippage. Weather improving, must get back into a disciplined schedule. Its the only way. Still time to meet my goals, but I must not tarry. Must re- engage with the stairs, but until then absolutely have to get my lifts in.
To be honest, lifting today was just this side of decent Acid. And, the lift and side effects only lasted about two hours, an improvement over Mr. Leary’s recipe. It felt good, but way out of body.
The long middle. We all have to deal with it. I get to go through it at least twice. Updates are less frequent. I am in the Middle Age of dealing with this, and nothing is more mind numbing than being in the Middle Age. I’ve found. Here but not here. Take the kids to school, go to work, get the kids from school, cook dinner, put the kids to bed, wash the dishes, go to bed. Wash, Rinse, Repeat. Get castrated, get weird, dance with depression, slowly feel better and just when you do, repeat. The Long Middle.
Many thanks for reading, many thanks for being with me throughout. Love is all there is.
My Year as a Eunuch 
Keep going. You will be there before summer, right? Happy Birthday Jim. 75? Whoa. I miss him too.
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September. I think 75 is correct.
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Reading this late. Joined you in Jim’s drink of choice on his natal day. Thought of him, can’t say I muss him as we didn’t have much contact.
One day at a time. Sometimes during the day, it is one step at a time. You are not alone. Love. M
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