Thank you, scratchme1010.
It was all the better up close and personal!
compound complex
JoinedPosts by compound complex
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8
New job blues
by Jayk infinally just got a really good job, i'm learning a trade and i love it.. its been a long time coming without any help from my family.
i'm in my late 20s finally about to be able to provide for myself.
it feels great but i still feel in missing something.
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compound complex
Greetings, Jayk:
Wishing you success with your new "life."
Of course you feel like something is missing, you just lost your family because of the religion, a job isn't going to replace that, even for an introvert. -- LisaRose
Yesterday, and quite by accident, I ran into a relative by marriage (Thanksgiving, USA). He has recently lost his family (my family by blood) and said there is no closure, given the circumstances. It is not about religion. He's really broken up yet told me about his new friends, some of whom I met (street people).
Like him, I've had to make new "family" because mine have abandoned me. Weird but good, having dinner last night with new friends, all their family there, loving and hugging and sharing. My relative and I have that in common . . . and you, too, now . . . making new family.
Hang in there.
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More Kindness, Less Judgment
by compound complex ini am comforted by the realization that my little life has not been lived totally in vain.
there's been a lot of good stuff come my way.
most of my mistakes were not life altering.
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compound complex
Just returned from uptown; mission was aborted because the sale item a friend sent me for doesn't go half price till 6:00 p.m. (pre-Black Friday). Sure as heck ain't going to brave the frenzied crowds on Friday!
So, a little put out, I wandered the streets -- all the shops were closed -- and "shopped for windows." Some dude wheeling a cart yelled out to me. It was my nephew. He had a sad story to tell (one in which I was long involved). We were on a thoroughfare busy with street people.
It was pretty enlightening to hear how they manage their state of homelessness/reduced opportunities. We had a great interchange, and I learned they were all cared for re: food -- some four local T'giving meals in the offing. They were all mostly upbeat. I'm old enough to be their grandpa, and, of course, I shared a bit of grandfatherly wisdom!
I couldn't fix their problems, but we all acknowledged most of us are having a rough ride. Still, the weak are helping the weaker . . .
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compound complex
Sorry, another "missing" and, now, triple post.
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More Kindness, Less Judgment
by compound complex ini am comforted by the realization that my little life has not been lived totally in vain.
there's been a lot of good stuff come my way.
most of my mistakes were not life altering.
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compound complex
. . . ignoring collecting boxes in shops because 'Jehovah will take care of that'. Ordinary people took care of it, people who put me to shame. -- Xanthippe
Thank you, X, for that reminder of where many of us once stood. Now, we try to make up for opportunities lost.
Have a wonderful Thanksgiving! -- LV101
Likewise, to you, LV, and everyone else!
Those are certainly words to live by aren't they? -- Closer to Fine
We're all working on that, CtF! Thanks.
Live long and prosper -- zeb
You, too, Z! May your day be free of incident.
Blessings and Peace, dear friends!
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The Looking Glass
by compound complex inmy eyes, fixed steadily upon cheerful passersby on the street below, peer through dark curtains.
in contrast to my placid self, these happy souls are at peace with the world.
not so long ago, i was a companion to all, democratic in the society i kept.
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compound complex
sorry -- double post. took a day to show up.
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The Looking Glass
by compound complex inmy eyes, fixed steadily upon cheerful passersby on the street below, peer through dark curtains.
in contrast to my placid self, these happy souls are at peace with the world.
not so long ago, i was a companion to all, democratic in the society i kept.
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compound complex
My eyes, fixed steadily upon cheerful passersby on the street below, peer through dark curtains. In contrast to my placid self, these happy souls are at peace with the world. Not so long ago, I was a companion to all, democratic in the society I kept. I see the world, I know the world from my lookout, five-storeys removed from the bustle of a life now abandoned.
After my abrupt withdrawal from constant companionship, these, my true friends, inquired after my state, leaving their cards with Hayworth as he, my faithful butler, politely but firmly turned them all away. Consequently, they ceased further inquiry into my health and caught up with their own lives and made tracks elsewhere. Needless to say, my doorway has not been brightened by old friends for a considerable time.
The August sun has been burning with her characteristic, seasonal fire. I cannot, for the life of me, be rid of this penetrating, bone-biting chill that has settled in at my core. When, one day, I had casually regarded my overall aspect in the bevelled glass of Mother's wardrobe mirror, I was taken aback by an aggressive increase in pallor, an uncharacteristic thinness of my once robust frame, a mallen streak creeping up my scalp.
Months passed, with myself confined to what had once been Mother's suite. I would not allow my curious eyes to wander toward the honesty of silvered glass. With the passage of time, I completely left off wondering about that horrid reflection cast in glass.
Despite my physical self's incremental change over time -- I one day forced myself to look head on into that dread mirror -- what frightened me most was the accelerated fading of my reflection. I looked down; the feet that long supported me were cast in vaporous mist, the fingers that had made music a shadowy tracery that clutched desperately at a face that no longer was . . .
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Dorian, or Through the Looking Glass
by compound complex inunmovable, i stand motionless; it is not chains that bind me.. my eyes, fixed steadily upon cheerful passersby on the street below, peer through darkly transparent curtains.
in contrast to my languid self, these happy souls are at peace with the world.
not so long ago, i was a companion to all, democratic in the society i kept.
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compound complex
Thanks, Diogenesister, for your comments. This story just came up about 45 minutes ago, although the initial posting aborted yesterday afternoon. Still can't figure it out.
Will look into the titles you suggested. Antoine de Saint-Exupery wrote The Little Prince, unless you're referring to that by Wilde?
Later, . . .
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Dorian, or Through the Looking Glass
by compound complex inunmovable, i stand motionless; it is not chains that bind me.. my eyes, fixed steadily upon cheerful passersby on the street below, peer through darkly transparent curtains.
in contrast to my languid self, these happy souls are at peace with the world.
not so long ago, i was a companion to all, democratic in the society i kept.
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compound complex
Unmovable, I stand motionless; it is not chains that bind me.
My eyes, fixed steadily upon cheerful passersby on the street below, peer through darkly transparent curtains. In contrast to my languid self, these happy souls are at peace with the world. Not so long ago, I was a companion to all, democratic in the society I kept. I see the world, I know the world from my lookout, five-storeys removed from the bustle of a life now abandoned.
After my abrupt withdrawal from constant companionship, these, my true friends, inquired after my state, leaving their cards with Hayworth as he, my faithful butler, politely but firmly turned them all away. Consequently, they ceased further inquiry into my health and caught up with their own lives and made tracks elsewhere. Needless to say, my doorway has not been brightened by old friends for a considerable time.
The August sun has been burning with her characteristic, seasonal fire. I cannot, for the life of me, be rid of this penetrating, bone-biting chill that has settled in at my core. When, one day, I had casually regarded my overall aspect in the bevelled glass of Mother's wardrobe mirror, I was taken aback by an aggressive increase in pallor, an uncharacteristic thinness of my once robust frame, a mallen streak creeping up my scalp.
Months passed, with myself confined to what had once been Mother's suite. I would not allow my curious eyes to wander toward the honesty of silvered glass. With the passage of time, I completely left off wondering about that horrid reflection cast in glass.
Despite my physical self's incremental change over time -- I one day forced myself to look head on into that dread mirror -- what frightened me most was the accelerated fading of my reflection. I looked down; the feet that had long supported me were now shrouded in vaporous mist, the fingers that had once made sweet music a shadowy tracery that clutched desperately at a face that no longer was . . .