Observations, Fabrications and Lies
All Life is Connected Atomic Tangerine Chemo
Dangerous Ground Denver Air Dog Clutter
Ending Sequence Experimental Yarn Interior Dialog
Introspective Clock Just Eye Patch Kitchen Match
Mac Og Marine Existance Monstrous
Principia Scatologica Remembered Fractions Rittenhouse
Starretts Hedge Tainted Love The Tethered Gull
Uncle Monagall What am I Feeling Who is This Woman
Widows Ya Basta Dying in Ludwig's View
Broken Foot Dream Hair
Paranoid Paradigm The Chronicler The Cup
Winter Silhouette Zeke’s End Yes
The truth is, after much furrowing of brow, I can't think of anything to say by way of preface to my blog. Along the way I wondered what it's purpose might be and maybe I should say a few words about that and would, except that I don't know what its purpose is, or could be, or should be. I only know that my clock is winding down and I'm so desperate to have my mind known that I could just spit! Maybe my blog could be about that. But how depressing and pretentious that could be! But hold on a second, maybe not—my therapist commented the other day how in late adulthood (AKA elder years), one is forced to deal with the sense of loss, all the time, it's always there, and it's painful, it takes great faith to live on even though one knows it's going to end and that whatever they accomplish, if anything, is not going to matter all that much. How does one find meaning or a sense of fulfillment in life knowing that it’s coming to an end? Psychologists have not written much about this if anything. It's sort of an unexamined part of adult life. It takes a lot of self-discipline to function in spite of this sense of loss—it's so easy to give up on the constant struggle, on life. A lot of people do—drinking, TV, drugs, electrosex, So, if you'll bear with me, let us examine this unexamined part of adult life.
Copyright © 2011 W. Bruce Watson, Inc. All rights reserved.  
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