Hermitic Christmas

Not for the first time in the last few years, I'm on my own for the festive season. But that's OK, I've spoken to K on the phone, and enjoyed her electronic presence, as it were, and had a chat with my brother, too. There is pleasant food and drink in the fridge - although I'll have to cook it myself, of course, but that's not even close to being rare - and more than enough entertainment by way of TV and the good old internet to be bored. Seeing a little eye candy would be nice, but that's not very likely given I'm staying at home today, so it's pointless to be feel sorry for myself. My situation is good enough, and certainly better than many people have to contend with. So I'll just say that I hope you all have a good Christmas.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Alone, naturally

So, my brief interlude of companionship is over - K left this morning, en route to her mother's for Christmas, thence to friends for New Year, before leaving the country - literally - in two weeks time, embarking with her boyfriend to Spain for, at least, months for a working holiday. I knew her departure was planned, of course, and I really hope she will have a great time, but I can't help feeling rather low. The corner I've painted myself into is completely self-inflicted, by choosing to not engaging with the world, so there's no-one to blame but me. That doesn't make it any easier, though.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Slow suicide

After the aftermath of the election fiasco, I've considered what I could do, how my life could be shaped in a fascist society. The options are not promising, frankly. As I've said before, my health militates against leaving the country, even if I had the money, which I haven't, and that's before the 'elephant in the room' scenario of my sexuality. Last Friday, fatalistic tendancies suggested that my best move might be to say 'sod it' and actively seek out the thing I want the most - a boy in my life. And there is a faint chance, maybe, it could happen. I've seen a guy, 12/13-ish, tall for his age, cute enough, and living pretty close to my flat, apparently (albeit not in the same building, sadly) - and he's spoken to me more than once, at his initiative. Rationally, the chances of him being interested in me are infinitesimal, but that Pandora's box won't go away. Even if we connected somehow, the chances of discovery, and their consequences, would be all too predictable, but the 'risk and reward' balance could be skewed by desperation.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Lemmings

As predicted, the lunatic asylum fascists have prevailed in the election. The 1% will doubtless be salivating about all the money they will make when they pick the NHS's carcass, but the thing I fail to understand is why so many average working/lower middle class people have been seduced by Johnson's lies. Are they all racist, bigoted xenophobes? Or just clueless dolts, the epitome of credulous 'sheeple', content to be led to the abyss? Or is it simply selfishness and greed, as I've long suspected in similar circumstances? Whatever it is, there's little doubt that my demise has lurched closer - with the NHS (which I've paid for already, in part, by way of my taxes for the last forty years, as far as I'm concerned) in serious danger, there's no way I could afford to pay for an 'American-style' health insurance package. Would that I could leave the country, but that's not an option given my health. The future is bleak - if I've got any future at all.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Election pessimism

Not for the first time in the last couple of years, what I want to say is being hamstrung by my aphasia, but I'll try regardless. The general election is imminent - four days away, as I write - and as far as I can see, the chances of a 'progressive' outcome are slim to none. The Great British English public seems to have been thoroughly beguiled by Johnson's lies, abetted by the lying fascist tabloid media - I've seen credible reports that British intelligence, amongst others, has weighed in with 'the 1%' to smear Corbyn (much as I'm thoroughly dubious about him, he's the only realistic option against the Johnson/Farage/Trump/Putin/Murdoch, etc, cabal) - and their racist and xenophobic schtick. By Friday 13th - how apposite - there's every chance that the Conservatives, and their disingenuous Brexit nonsense, will completely wreck the country, with their greed and selfishness. Given my raddled health, I'm going to be dead fairly soon, but my heart aches for K and her generation - she seems to be expecting a Labour victory, or, at least, a hung election, but I'm afraid she'll be ridiculously disappointed.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

A waking nightmare

I was watching a nature programme earlier on, and the narration mentioned the regenerative powers of axalotls, referring to the possibility of discovering medical applications for 'spare part surgery', and the like. But then my blood ran cold after the narrator said 'it could be a step closer to the dream of human immortality'. Can you imagine Farage, Johnson and, especially, Trump being immortal? Terrifying beyond words.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B