Pynchon

I am finding it very hard to be bothered. I write about writing about things, which is hardly inspiring at all, now is it?

I know what is happening. I am drifting into a depressive state. It has happened before. Maybe it is is part of the Pynchon family genetic makeup. Some of you know about my Mom's problems in the past and about Sister 2's continuing problems. My Mom told me recently that my Brother is also having problems. She wants me to have a word with him because she thinks that I will make a difference. I doubt it. My Brother told my Mom that lately I don't have anything to do with him. I don't know where he got that from. I love my Brother with all of my heart.

Late last week I asked Lorraine if she wanted to go to bed with me. She said No. I asked when she might want to go to bed with me. She said that she didn't know. Weeks go by now without me asking because I always know the answer and why cause tension by asking? I find it more and more difficult to raise the subject. Or do I find it less and less of a problem?

I watch couples in the street. I watch the hand holding and the laughter and the cuddles and I want to tell them to make the most of it, because it will end sooner or later. Maybe this happens to everybody. Indifferent women and frustrated men. I don't know. Maybe I am an aberration? Maybe I am the one not behaving the way a 44 year old should behave? Maybe I should have known to expect this?

Labels: Illness, Lorraine, Sex