Let me Explain

It says it all really. Middle age does not come alone.

At least by 40ish the greater percentage of the male populate will have been stripped of all their worldly possessions by the person who once proclaimed unswerving love. There may of course be a lot of variant strains to a tale, however, it always ends the same way. The price of freedom is sore.

Difficult to remember the cumbersome infection of pubescent lust when the best on offer is a sofa and an empty bankbook. By the third bottle of cider the vision of a 'grifter' smiling fondly as he enters the hallowed turf that once shared a warm bed with you eats generously at the soul.
Is misery and internet porn the best on offer?

Perhaps there is another way.

And so to a story of success, neither financial, nor therapeutic but nevertheless much more rewarding. Words are cheap, a 'blog' proves that. Actions, now therein hangs a tale or two, and an inability to 'hang his tail' is inevitably what drives the middle aged man into despair. The desperation of of the single clubs, dating sites and god knows where else. The one ingredient to change the constitution of this fruit cake is the spiritual relief that loneliness can never afford. What price the youth of old, the wisdom of entitlement born only in the battle scars of life.

What bollocks.

Driven by being the last piece of the jigsaw that came out a different box, I decided to rearrange my life, throw off the bondage of trite banal mediocrity and set free a soul of rampant desire. Was the world ready?

Not knowing and better still, not caring, the ultimate judgement of the harshest critic I know, myself, is the greatest treasure available in a world of decadent decay. There are many ways up the mountain. I know, I've tried them all. In the end the mountain won...or did it?

It's mighty fine setting up camp in the valley. The echoes of laughter are not lost to the winds on the lofty peaks of egotistical fortune. No brother, I have gained greater pleasure in the contentment of less selfish extremes. I am willing to share my experiences with the less able, and to this end I praise whatever lord there is. Bestowing me with an ability to digest and divulge brings me a greater pleasure than pleasure itself. Lay on McDuff, as the actress said to the bishop.

Tales of misfortune and wondrous merriment let to the sofa. Dreams of glory and burning ambition lost to intolerant behaviour, of myself and others. The albatross will be forever banished to the wilderness. One thing is for sure, she will not go down without a fight.

As the frustrations of daily life unfold I will enlighten those who wish to be lit. The albatross may not be as big a cross as Mr. October. Only the reader can decide.