For some unknown reason my email is totally confused and it opens in strange manner organizing according to subject and not date. So when I open mail it puts me back in time. Things are disorientating enough in these times of self isolation but this is making it worse. This thread of conversation took place in December of 2018, the topic of conversation was First Man, whom I had just met and he was evidencing much interest in me at the time. This was an email send to Kathleen who had written about me on her web site and then about First Man.
Me: Your web site is getting much attention as I am linking EVERYONE here in London and Iceland to his story. It is such fun, who would EVER have known about all of this. Social media strikes again and again. First Man is being SO sweet and attentive. I have NO idea what is going on. Some Icelandic women looked at all our our emails and declared that the was very interested in me and flirting like crazy. i cannot believe the serendipity of it all. I am going to copy and paste from an email from a California friend. It is SO funny. I did send her comments to him but I have not heard back yet. I am having SUCH a delightful time here in London. Why the hell did I ever move to Vancouver???????
This funny comment from one of my California friends. “Ah you vixen.. Bewitched this young man so deeply that his life will now be measured in before Lady A and after…
He may be a wise old soul.. but the likes of you unrivaled.” I did, of course, share it with him. I cannot wait to hear his response.,
Kathleen: You sound so very happy……if that is what just his words do to lift your spirits, then…time together will rock your soul!!! Have fun
What makes this discovery most strange is that this man sort of remained in my life until quite recently but, except for a rather delightful lMay 2019 lunch in Vancouver there was no person to person contact. Three weeks ago, I sent an email proposing that we get together at some point, he did not respond so was stricken from the list of people I communicated with, I would initiate contact and he would respond. He was such a tease, came on very strong and then disappeared but not altogether. But how funny, the friend saying that I was a vixen and his life would be measured in before Lady A and after Lady A. Kathleen actually made the same observation. What is a vixen? A female fox says the dictionary. But also a sexually attractive woman. Here is some usage: In this spy spoof, our hero, aided by a sexy vixen, … saves the world from a power-mad despot …
— Steven Rebello
I have no idea if First Man reads my blog, or not. It was startling to discover that Gentleman Caller from Tennessee said, in a telephone conversation, that he had been reading my blog daily since we met in July of 2019. I was startled and flattered but then felt invaded. That is improbable admittedly, as it is me that writes it and causes it to be published. But it is eerie to think that this guy knows so much about me. The funny thing is, he gets me for nothing. It is free, does not have to give me anything in return and cannot actually as Chris does not pass on comments made on the site. Gentleman Caller does say that he wants more of me – video stuff and a visit which he will fund. Of course, it is impossible in these days.
I have a remarkable ability to live in the present – do not think about the past, nor worry about the future. But nowadays, with the plague and self isolation, there is no present and goodness knows about the future. So I am being forced to live in the past with this strange emails popping up. It was quite wonderful in the beginning days of First Man, but in any measure – it did not work out. Living in the present back then was wonderful, there was no future in it, as it turned out. There was no past because he was such a unique individual , totally unlike any man that in my life. But he proved to be arrogant, in other words conceited, self-important, egotistic, full of oneself, superior, bumptious, presumptuous, imperious, overweening; proud, immodest; informal high and mighty, too big for one’s britches, too big for one’s boots, big-headed, puffed up; ANTONYMS modest.
I awoke this morning to the thought that, if I died, it would not make much difference to anyone. I am self isolated from members of my family, (families actually) – so in many ways I am dead to them already. I remain in contact with only one old friend, CPI. Personal Driver and I are in constant contact but I am not going anywhere, as there is no where to go, and he is not working, quarantined with his family and fasting during Ramadan.
This saying was found on an Islamic site: ‘It is during our darkest moments that we must focus to see the light.”
The photograph is a painting on my wall. It seems like it is Don Quixote and Sancho Panza. Now what they are doing in Alberta is beyond me, but it is rather amusing to thin about. Personal Driver and Alexis switch roles and go back and forth.
