Catalunya

I've had a e-mail from K this morning, complete with a couple of photos, telling me that she's settling in well enough as regards her Catalan adventure - she's staying in a rural area, 25 miles or so from Tarragona, away from the tourist hotspots, which is good from her perspective, so that she can't be tempted to spend too much of her money, she says! I'm pleased she seems to be happy so far, and, of course, I'm relieved that she's safe and sound - I know she's an adult and a sensible one, too, but I can't help worrying a little bit occasionally. K is the only person, really, that cares if I live or die (including myself, sometimes), so anything bad happening to her would be close to unbearable.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

New year, same aches

Some things never change, despite the calendrical niceties. I like my flat, generally, but I know I could have been living, certainly in terms of the 'location, location, location' mantra, somewhere else better for the same price, apart from cowardice. And I've still absolutely no chance of having a boy in my life, even as a friend, never mind anything more. And my girl is jetting to new pastures tomorrow, with her boyfriend, for months - her choice, of course, and I'd never dream of interfering, even if I could. But 2020 sucks, already.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Insanity personified

I knew that Trump was mad, bad and dangerous to know, but I didn't expect him to risk World War III to appease his fascist supporters, nothing like a war to win elections, after all, just ask Thatcher in 1983. And you know Johnson will be on the sycophantic bandwagon, nothing more certain. The world is going to hell in a handcart, and that's the optimistic assessment.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

2020 vision

Yeah, I know it's as clichéd as hell, but I couldn't resist. Especially as I haven't got a worthwhile clue, never mind a vision, for a better 2020, either for myself or the world in general. As ever, the only thing I really want is as inaccessible as ever, so I suspect the year to come will be a case of solitary decline, if not worse, particularly in terms of my health. Still, self-pity won't fix anything, so I'll keep on keeping on, and see what happens. Notwithstanding my woes, though, I hope you all have a happy, prosperous and, above all, healthy New Year.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

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