Thank you very much, LV101!
I've never tried that combo, probably since I've always taken emotional pain straight up.
Blessings and peace.
CoCo
this tired, lonely man has been snared, but i protest little .
she holds me tenderly in her tightening but welcome thrall.
i cave willingly -- oh, so willingly -- to her amatory attentions.
Thank you very much, LV101!
I've never tried that combo, probably since I've always taken emotional pain straight up.
Blessings and peace.
CoCo
question?.
on some threads the "post reply" box is missing the section where you can post links, photos, emotcions, etc.. is this a new thing to save band width or is it a glitch?.
i miss having the old "post reply" options....:(.
All of the above for me re: Chrome. No problem, however, on Safari.
this tired, lonely man has been snared, but i protest little .
she holds me tenderly in her tightening but welcome thrall.
i cave willingly -- oh, so willingly -- to her amatory attentions.
Wonderful hearing from both of you, rip and smiddy! !
Thanks so much. That's what I love about writing online -- instant feedback. You've made my day.
All the best!
CoCo
this tired, lonely man has been snared, but i protest little .
she holds me tenderly in her tightening but welcome thrall.
i cave willingly -- oh, so willingly -- to her amatory attentions.
Wonderful seeing both of you, Nancy and rip!
Trouble with main computer, thus with mail . . .
This old iMac is SLOOOOOOOOOOOOW!
Will try to stay in touch.
Love,
CoCo
this tired, lonely man has been snared, but i protest little .
she holds me tenderly in her tightening but welcome thrall.
i cave willingly -- oh, so willingly -- to her amatory attentions.
Thanks so much, my friend, tornapart!
Have a wonderful weekend. I'm going for a long walk today amidst all the autumn colors before they give way to . . .
You, too, continue dreaming.
Love,
CoCo
the following information is significant and extremely useful.. for what?.
for proving a point about jehovah's channel of communication.. what about jehovah's channel of communication?.
it is a fool's paradise of misinformation, awkward and ridiculous assertions and hard-headed nonsense presented as superior divine insider knowledge.. ***.
Thanks, Terry!
I wish I had those photos.
The mural backdrop I painted was photographed, as I recall. I can see the representative heart and brain on stage, wired for sound and light and talking back and forth. The JW actor wanted to do something naughty (heart), but he knew he should do what's right (mind). Caving to wrong desire hurts both the individual and the congregation and brings reproach on Jehovah. It was heady stuff for the times -- visually and aurally persuasive for us young JWs who participated and were, as a consequence, moved emotionally (is that a good thing?) by the message our "state-of-the-art" body parts shouted out to the audience.
Now we laugh -- ruefully.
I wish I had those photos . . .
CoCo
the following information is significant and extremely useful.. for what?.
for proving a point about jehovah's channel of communication.. what about jehovah's channel of communication?.
it is a fool's paradise of misinformation, awkward and ridiculous assertions and hard-headed nonsense presented as superior divine insider knowledge.. ***.
Terry:
I was in NY then and designed the stage and helped assemble the "talking" heart and brain . . .
CC
this tired, lonely man has been snared, but i protest little .
she holds me tenderly in her tightening but welcome thrall.
i cave willingly -- oh, so willingly -- to her amatory attentions.
This is just a Mr. Lonelyheart's tale. The writer is neither desperate nor suicidal.
This lonely, rejected lover feels himself slipping away into nothingness and records the event before his complete expiration. Of course, my savior could appear before I draw my last. Few romantics put their sorrow to paper before they . . .
The autumn transit is forcing me, captive and unwilling, into a forward march toward darker times. The summer sun kept me cheered and pushing onward in pursuit of a realizable dream. Only briefly did that mocking vision peer back at me before running on ahead, ever beyond my grasp. There was no discouragement, no thought of my quitting the chase, however. Summer's heat and length of day invigorated me toward the continuous effort required to enter the beauty of a dream realized.
Today is different. The change come over me was imperceptible. Summer, in all her robust glory, held on long and vigorous with warmth, birdsong and a good humor capable of lifting the spirits of even the perpetually dispirited. Now the sun has gone; all that remains is the oppressive damp of a landscape gone cold. What confronts me -- blocking all routes of escape either forward or backward -- is that slipping away into the nothingness of certain decay . . . descent into oblivion.
A once joyous world of hopes and dreams has departed, where nothing seemed impossible in the mind of this hopeful man, this visionary. The unsavory replacement is a disintegration into the dark and fearful realm of grief and affliction.
Eternal silence for a man who loved deeply but who did not love well. . . .
this tired, lonely man has been snared, but i protest little .
she holds me tenderly in her tightening but welcome thrall.
i cave willingly -- oh, so willingly -- to her amatory attentions.
Now you have to imagine a warm cosy fire, a glass of ruby red wine and some soft sweet music and the tired lonely man can dream of his loved one...
Thanks, dear tornapart, for the above. It so happens that three of the above have been provided at my current dwelling . . . only the fourth item is missing.
I do have my dreams. . . .
Love,
CoCo
this tired, lonely man has been snared, but i protest little .
she holds me tenderly in her tightening but welcome thrall.
i cave willingly -- oh, so willingly -- to her amatory attentions.
Darkness settles in, a furtive, watery sun has limped its pathetic course through the closing chapter of a gloomy and damp autumn day. Its brief, craven appearance has created more shadow than illumination, and this has tended toward my unease. I am prompted to turn on each light of every room on all floors of my prison.
I am alone -- sometimes it is all right to be alone -- but not at this time. This dwelling space of loss and loneliness holds me captive, and I want only to walk out the door and go home. I can never go back. I have been locked up within a house I can never call home. Who hears my cries for help? They are swallowed down whole by the grinning and cruel emptiness of an outwardly beautiful house that has no soul. She has stolen mine.
No one hears my cries for help. They are growing fainter. I am silent as I watch the sun sink deeper and deeper into an eternal night . . .