If you have not met Sara da Encarnação may I strongly suggest you try some of her essays

Sara,

This essay was prompted by your essay: The Difference Between Attention and Interest: On metrics, memory, and the invisible life of ideas.

What a perspective on attention vs interest, as described through technology, nature, and human use! So I am not just giving your essay my attention here, but letting you know that it has changed my thinking, which will tell you, “I not only paid attention to your words, but they interested me!

Also, I am creating a comment that shows both attention and interest. Clicking like or ♥️, as a measure of attention after reading it, but this only lets you know I read the essay; in my comments, I show you how it piqued my interest and how it has affected me!

P.S. I have always told my nieces and nephews (call them the younger generation) that their “likes,” “clicks,” and “emoji hearts” are nice enough, but, at least for me, do not register as communication or as a way of letting me know that I matter to them. I kiddingly tell them, “Likes will not keep you on the inheritance list!” They laugh, but I have been getting more texts and calls from them.

This essay reminds me of others of yours which, if I may paraphrase, talk about assigning meaning to words too soon after they have been thought or uttered or written.

The “truth” of the words comes after they have been turned into something else. But if we accept, reject, or use them too soon, they do not have the chance to become more than mere words.

In addition, in my studies of Buddhism, I have come across the concept that water, waves, and the ocean are all the same; they do not consider themselves separate entities. Many Buddhist teachers have used the metaphor of a wave in the ocean of water to illustrate that as human beings, we do not have a distinct self in the world, we are all a part of the energy that is the world.

So, may I end by saying (or thinking or believing or wondering) if I may give my attention to something but now know that it takes more to say I am interested in something, and all of that might be the same just different measures of my involvement with life, and I should just say, “I am.”

There is a beauty in youth that does not speak to us in age.

We see a photograph of what we once were and we amaze.

It is the beauty of hope

It is the beauty of innocence

It is the beauty of a life not yet lived

Not yet fully enjoyed

Not yet terribly suffered

Seeking to understand

That is not to say there is not beauty with age that reflects youth.

We see a photograph of what we are becoming and we reflect.

It is the beauty of experience

It is the beauty of knowing

It is the beauty of wisdom

Not yet finished

Not yet completed

Seeking to discover

With increasing difficulty, the beauty of youth can still be seen in old age.

The photographs of what we were, often lost, in a shoebox go unnoticed.

The mirror gets clouded

The mirror gets distorted

The mirror gets tarnished

Not yet gone

Not yet over

Seeking to re-discover

When our physical beauty has turned to wrinkles and wonders,

The photographs will be to be remembered instead of remembering.

When we stop to look back will we see,

Really see who we were and who we have become,

And ask, what is beauty really as we go from youth to old age?

There is no photograph that can truly reflect or tell our story.

There is only you. There is only me. To live. To love. To die.

To leave behind something better than it was before.

PREFACE: I first met Portuz several years ago and have financially supported him and the group of approximately 20 people he has taken under his guidance at their refugee camp. Mr. Robert Hamilton, a British citizen, is their sponsor, validates the group’s authenticity, and oversees their support “from the outside world”.

Being at the camp is better than being on the run in their home country, persecuted as criminals because of being part of the LGBTQIA+ Community, being beaten and sometimes killed because of who they love.

However, the authorities at the camps and the other people living there, like the world at large, do not treat them as well as the LGBTQ refugees could hope for. They are not offered all the same opportunities as the others; they do not receive the same food and supply rations, etc. They are not totally free from being ostracized, threatened, isolated, discriminated against, and at times physically abused.

The group has taken the initiative to cultivate the uncooperative land and weather to grow some additional food. If you would like to offer financial support to help them with food, medical supplies, clothing, and other necessities until they can be relocated to another country which will offer greater safety and security, please visit their site (linked at the end of this piece) to learn more.

I am so very pleased to present Portuz Windz as our 18th questionnaire participant. His writing informs us of the plight of others and he works very hard to make it better for himself and his small band of LGBTQIA+ mates. He is a good man,

Name: Portuz Windz

Substack Link: Portuzwindz@substack

Email: portuzwindz@gmail.com

Date: June 13, 2026

A. Gender-wise, I identify as: Male. I am a muscular man who feels like a woman, and I go by he/him.

B. In the Heterosexual/LGBTQIA+ Community, I am: gay and a bottom.

C. I am: single.

D. My age is: 29 years old.

E. My educational background is: college. I didn’t finish university because of homophobia.

F. I live in: The Gorom Refugee Camp, South Sudan.

1. I have been seriously writing since: 2021, it was just months after settling in at the refugee camp, but before that, from 2017 to 2019, I used to write about sexuality, not that seriously though. I blocked my accounts because I didn’t want to expose my friends and family, since I was being hunted as a criminal for being gay.

2. I consider myself: a writer, although all my writings are about myself, I don’t hold an intellectual copyright, for example, I don’t have a book, novel, etc

3. I consider myself an amateur writer: because I know I lack excellent grammar, comprehension, etc., and I have less time in the field than others. I have tried my level best to build a pool of contacts; my writings aren’t widely spread yet; hopefully, with time, they will be.

4. The kinds of writing I do are: creative nonfiction, memoir, and autobiography. I mostly write about myself as well as about what we experience as refugees with a group of sexualities in a homophobic climate.

5. The first motivation that I can remember as a major encouragement for me to write was: whenever people reacted to my writings. I write for the world, there might be the other side of the world from where and how I live that doesn’t know what really happens here, for sure, no one knows each corner of the world. We acquire information from different sources, and while I share our challenges, I am also giving the world information about our difficulties. In addition, I googled my name and found that all my writings were listed there, and I was so happy to see that.

6. A writing topic I return to again and again is: what it is like to live in the captivity of a refugee camp, about people who struggle with their sexualities and other people’s reactions to them, and how others managed to overcome these difficulties. It might not only be about the challenges but also the merits gained. I feel so happy for those who are proud of who they are. Secondly, I am a religious person. I believe in Jesus Christ and God the Father, grew up in this, and am faithful. I try to be honest, kind, and an understanding person. All my hopes are for a better life for everyone through the love of Jesus Christ.

7. I find writing easy because: on the ground, we sit and share stories with friends face-to-face. I write about myself and what I’ve observed. I hope to extend my writing with research. There are different cases to look at for someone else out there, both challenges, breakthroughs, and merits. At the moment I write, whenever I want … it's on my fingertips.

8. I want my writing legacy to be: I know, generations come and go, evolution keeps getting in, I have young followers, and those who are just beginning to write. I want my writing legacy to flow from generation to generation. LGBTQ people keep fighting for their rights, but religious groups and other cultural groups keep fighting against these rights. As more writers evolve, I hope my writings will inspire some. Also, I hope to explore another aspect of kindness as a Christian, as God’s presence moves in unpredictable ways; and more people continue spreading the gospel as we live with respect for humanity.

9. For me, what makes the work of writing worthwhile is: with the few years that I’ve spent writing, I’ve acquired many friends, shared who we are, and sustained lives with financial support from different people. My writings on Medium, Substack, Quora, Mastodon, etc. have gotten us counseled, helped us financially, and helped us make connections with new people. I wouldn’t get this without writing.

10. If I stopped writing today, I would feel: sad, it's part of me. I write mostly about myself and colleagues around me; however, I read more articles similar to and different from what I write on many social media platforms.

11. When I have been away from writing, I come back to the page: because I miss it; friends keep asking me, “Portuz, we are no longer seeing your writings”. This really makes me rush back.

12. I write because: I need more attention from the outside world about what’s happening here, bad things to be challenged, and problems to be solved. I speak for many people and a reminder that we’re all equal, LGBTQ rights are human rights

13. I would like to add that: life as an LGBTQ person living in a homophobic refugee camp isn’t easy. It’s now been 6 years personally, and others have been here longer. It has been a struggle for people from different countries in East Africa; to Kakuma Refugee Camp and to Gorom Camp in South Sudan. Good that many got resettlement in the USA and Canada. We’ve also finished most of the steps for our group and are winding up, keeping fingers crossed that we'll be able to relocate at any time now. We will keep you all posted.

    We need your support, and for more detailed information about our journey, I am attaching a link to our website, which is safe to visit.

    Thanks Michael

    Fondly,

    Portuz.

    👉Click here for the link to our website.

    👉Click here if you want to contribute.

Andrea, Your thoughts on mediation are so “right on”: Meditation Myths: You Don’t Need More Time — And You Don’t Need an Empty Mind! It has taken me years and years to come to some of the conclusions you share. How lucky those who get your book: Living Is Easy With Eyes Closed! For me, rephrasing what I have learned in my own words:

1) Meditation can be as short as a few breaths. A psychic I used to go to (talked about in my serialization of “Counting Down the Yardstick” once explained, and I have owned it since, that everyone breathes. Without thinking or intention, everyone breathes. Breathing is meditation, so in some ways, EVERYONE is meditating ALL THE TIME. We just need to bring awareness to a process that is already part of being alive.

2) There is no way a human being can “clear the mind.” The nature of who we are is that we are thinking constantly, especially when we sit there trying to quiet our minds, which makes it even more active. Acknowledgment of a thought and bringing it back to the intention you set for your meditation is what counts.

Also, labeling it but not “moving into the thought” and returning to your intention works wonders. A final thought on clearing thoughts after you have noted it and moved on, or noted it and labeled it: don’t get hung up in the usual stories you have attached to the thought. Don’t delay. You can always give it more thought when you are not meditating.

3) Meditation is easier when you set an intention: I recognize that good times are just around the corner. Or I am calm. I am comfortable. I feel joy, or I feel sorrow. Meditation is easier when you focus on your breathing.

Meditation is also easier when you focus on a mental image. Meditation is easier when you focus on a physical item: a Buddha? A candle’s flame? Something sacred to you?

No stories, no memories, no questioning or wondering, just looking at it. You can do more thinking about the object of your focus later, when you have finished your meditation session.

4) Thich Nhat Hanh talks about walking meditation: concentrate on the physical activity of walking. Feel the ground beneath your feet. Feel the sun’s heat on your shoulders. Feel the chill in the air on your face. Notice what you pass while you walk.

5) If you can, plan to meditate at the same time every day. If you cannot, meditate when you think about it. Meditate when you first wake up before getting out of bed. Meditate as you turn off the lights and drift off to sleep. Meditate whenever!

Andrea, thanks for providing what became a prompt for my next piece.

Fondly, Michael

I visited the San Diego Zoo in 2010. I was visiting my God-Family: Amethel, Ken Parel-Sewell, and my God-Sons: Kai, and Paz.

The San Diego Zoo is widely regarded as one of the best zoos in the world. With its extensive collection of animals, stunning exhibits, and commitment to conservation, it has garnered numerous accolades and achieved global recognition. The zoo is consistently ranked among the top zoos worldwide, attracting millions of visitors each year.

One of the factors that contributes to the San Diego Zoo’s esteemed reputation is its incredible diversity of animal species. Spread over 100 acres, the zoo is home to more than 3,500 animals representing over 650 species. From rare and endangered species to unique and exotic wildlife, visitors can witness the wonders of the animal kingdom up close. https://www.ncesc.com

Being spread over 100 acres, I was worried that I would not be able to walk the zoo, so we rented a wheelchair and the boys “pushed” me around the place. The decision made me feel OLD, but it was worse to worry about not being able to last the entire experience and disappointing my hosts. I rationalized having to ride in a wheelchair thusly: I may be old, but what if I was a 20-something, professional football player who had sprained his ankle in a daring, goal-winning game move and had to be at this zoo party, injury or not?

After an exhausting afternoon, we settled in at the park’s closing parade. All animals were puppets, not live ones. A great spectacle celebrating a great zoo and one that holds great respect for animal life.

Poster AI generated. My stories and poetry—NEVER AI

This essay was prompted by Keith Aron’s column, part of Qstack | The LGBTQIA+ Community of Substacks by Troy Ford.

Keith,

Good to see your continuation of this column, which is so helpful to so many!

Qstack | The LGBTQIA+ Community of Substacks

Ask a Queer Coach: How do we explain the complexities of queer identities?

Qstack | The LGBTQQIP2SA+ Community, Directory, and Platform of Substack creators is a reader-supported newsletter and depends on paid subscriptions to highlight the diverse creative talent of queer writers. All content will always be free, but your support is deeply appreciated…

Read more

10 days ago · 9 likes · 4 comments · Keith Aron

I write this in answer to Tali Sarnetzky’s question, which you so appropriately summarized as: “When pressed for explanations about her identity, what options might lead Tali to feel the greatest degrees of alignment with her sense of integrity, her sense of agency, her truth?” Thank you, Tali, for the question. And thank you, Keith, for your beautiful answer to what may be one of the most significant questions of our time. And thank you, Troy Ford, for helping to facilitate this advice vehicle. And thank you all concerned for prompting me to set down in writing what I understand, think, and believe about this conundrum. As the king in the musical, “The King and I”, would say, “Tis a puzzlement!”

Keith, you begin with “Our beloved rainbow is, alas, but a starting point and a symbol. Its limited color palette comes nowhere near representing the multiverse of queer identities. How can we possibly come up with words to convey the subtleties and brilliance of our light?”

I wonder if the increase in conversations about queer identity is due to an increased awareness, and/or an increased need to know based on trump and his minions’ current reigniting of removing, retracting, erasing queer rights, also known as human rights, and our response, which I call “The Rainbow Battles”?

In my day, I am now 81 years old; there existed gays, lesbians, bisexuals, transsexuals, and transvestites. Perhaps the addition of new letters to the alphabet is a good sign that the awareness of our differences is growing (if not maybe gaining more acceptance)?

Are labels helpful or destructive, do they enlighten and unify or do they subvert and divide? I feel that they are beneficial and have written about them often. One essay that I am proud of is: https://mhorvich.substack.com/p/loneliness-in-labels?r=3z5war

My Buddhist studies tell me that everything is “empty”, has no intrinsic value, but rather we assign value based on our individual experiences; therefore, all values base themselves on individual beliefs. In 2026, there are an estimated 8.3 billion people in the world, which would add up to many varying, changing values across many areas of what life encompasses, based on our individual assignment of values in our lives.

As you importantly say, “Here’s another important caveat to consider about language and labels. Like most tools or strategies, they can be misused and/or weaponized. Language and labels are all too often used — sometimes unconsciously and sometimes deliberately — to pigeonhole, stereotype, or pathologize. Left unchecked, our apprehension about this kind of misuse has the power to keep us perpetually closeted.”

Talking about who we are, in essence “coming out”, definitely is a high-stress, high-drama game, with very high stakes. My advice here comes from “Loving Someone Gay”: 5th Edition, Updated & Revised by Don Clark PhD | Jun 21, 2020. He says, paraphrased here, come out to people who matter to you and do so when it matters to you. And I would say that, rather than listing labels, it might be best to do this over a cup of coffee or tea and some warm, fresh-out-of-the-oven chocolate chip cookies!

Fondly, Michael

RAINBOW People by LEGO

Prompted by Clint’s piece, I have written a poem:

COLLIDE PRESS

Somewhere...Over The Rainbow (Flag)

As a kid, I remember hearing Judy Garland sing “Over the Rainbow” and imagining a magical place where the problems of the world simply disappeared. A place where people could just be themselves. A place where we all belonged…

Read more

13 days ago · 13 likes · 1 comment · Clint Collide

I cannot express my wonder at the RAINBOW and for the flag
As Clint did, but am moved to write a poem and sing a song of praise.
We celebrate the progress we have made and more. And more than that
Who celebrate who we are and whom we love and stand for our rights.

We love despite the cultural norms. We celebrate, and we find
Community with the LGBTQIA+ Community, gay brothers and Lesbian sisters.
We yearn for better times for all downtrodden and suffering people,
In our culture and our country, which is still far from perfect,

And in the world, where so many suffer more than we,
We yearn not to need to scan every room to make sure we are safe.
We yearn to not have to watch what we say, who we touch,
What we do in privacy. Yearning to be able to love whom we love.

We yearn for our transgender brothers/sisters to not be erased.
To not be the brunt of jokes, slander, abuse - verbal or physical
We yearn for LGBTQIA+ers to not need acceptance or tolerance
But rather to be accepted merely because of our existence.

We owe thanks to Mr. Gilbert Baker, creator of the RAINBOW FLAG.
It waves in the sun and in the rain, faithfully, and announces,
While we chant, “We are here, We are QUEER, Get over it!”
And we march with, “Lions and Tigers and QUEERS, oh my!

It is our symbol of love, and unity, and belonging, and hope.
Whether a RAINBOW flag flies over Castro St., San Francisco,
In your own town, on your own street, on the porch of your home,
Or wearing a tiny one on a jacket lapel, or seeing one of nature’s.

Shining bright in the sky, pots of gold or not, it shouts WE BELONG!
It says all is OK, it should be OK, it is OK, and eventually it will be better.
Like the RAINBOW, being gay is only natural, embraced by nature itself.
Carry on red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet, pink.

The rainbow is also an unofficial symbol recalling the Genesis flood narrative
In which a rainbow appears to Noah after the Flood, and the only survivors
On the ark, and represents God’s (if she exists) promise to Noah that s(he) will
Refrain from flooding the Earth and destroying all of life, ever again.

Ending with my need to feel some spirituality like so many others before us …
Words and music by Zilphia Hart., Frank Hamilton, Guy Carawan and Pete Seeger

We shall overcome. We shall overcome, some day. Oh, deep
In my heart I do believe. We shall overcome, some day.
 
We'll walk hand in hand. We'll walk hand in hand someday.
Oh, deep in my heart I do believe. We shall overcome, some day.
 
Choice will make us free. Choice will make us free someday.
Oh, deep in my heart I do believe. We shall overcome, someday.
 
We are not afraid. We are not afraid. Oh, deep in my heart,
I do believe we shall overcome someday.
 
We shall overcome. We shall overcome. We shall overcome,
someday. Oh, deep in my heart I do believe we shall overcome,
someday.

IT’S BRAND NEW:
WELCOME TO THE INAUGARATION
OF THE POETRY SECTION OF MY SUBSTACK PAGE

This poem was prompted by a poem written by SARA DA ENCARNAÇÃO.
Check out this link to see her poem, “Not Today”.

I dedicate this inaugural poem of my Substack page
to Sara and appreciate her as a mentor in how
to look at life and to see what is really there
or just on the other side, or not yet created!

To Life & To Death & To Growing Up

Life is never easy, especially as we are growing up.

There are things we’ve yet to know, yet to understand.

However, grow up we must and suffer, disparage, regret,

Experience, grow. realize, embrace, change, learn, grow again,

As we become the person we were hopefully meant to be.

People we love leave in unexpected ways, at unexpected times

Causing us to question our purpose and to mourn our loss.

We celebrate as best we can, sometimes with tears, at times laughter.

There is no teacher’s lesson plan for us to follow on “how to grow up”.

But somehow we make it, not avoiding reality but living it,

Participating in it, hopefully dancing with it, sometimes wildly,

And doing so in a way that makes it beautiful for us and for others

Who are fortunate enough to come in contact with and to know us.

And then, unexpectedly again, it will be our turn to leave this life

Having done our best to celebrate this round, to celebrate those we loved,

To celebrate those whose souls we have touched and whose souls

who have touched us. And then to celebrate death. And that is good.

Fondly,

Michael

Generated by AI. I will never use AI to write my stories and/or poems.

I wrote this as a reply to Samu’s “Coffee and Cake”:

Samu — Coffee and Cake

Samu, FREE ADVICE YOU DIDN”T ASK FOR!

Coffee, Cake, & Craving

You write about this experience as if it was a bad thing.
I maintain it isn’t! It wasn’t! It shouldn’t have to be!
We are gay. We are gay men. Gay men are attracted to other men.

But in our world there are still so many unspoken words,
Unnoticed glances, many missed opportunities, hidden yearnings.
So we go into these fantasy dreams of what if. As you did.

Wouldn’t it be nice if you could just go up to him and introduce yourself?
If he were a she, you might have.
In a different world, you could have; you should have.

Wouldn’t it be nice if you could just offer to buy him a coffee?
If he were a she, you could have.
In a different world you could have, you should have.

But in our world, with you both as a he, we fantasize.
But is it wrong? Or is it? Or should it be?
No! It is the nature of being gay and loving another man.

It is the nature of wanting to be loved.
It is the nature of wanting to be loved by another man.
And some day, if you don’t chase it, it will find you.

I believe that, Samu.
I believe in you.
Fondly, Michael

I am so very pleased to present Gino Fontana as our seventeenth questionnaire participant. His Substack is published in French and English and his views are deep! His credo is: “I don’t exist without Us. Us only depends on I. Equality is in Equivalence”.

Name: Gino Fontan
Substack Links:

Studio Gino.Ftn

Écrire, construire, penser à voix haute — depuis un cerveau qui fonctionne autrement. Fictions, essais, neurodivergence, et les systèmes que je construis pour penser à ciel ouvert.

Par Gino Ftn

and

When AI Gets You

Your chaos turns into a universe. One practitioner building cognitive systems in public — what works, what crashes, what changes when AI actually understands how you think.

By Gino Ftn

Date: Date: June 6, 2026

A. Gender-wise, I identify as: Male / he-him
B. In the Heterosexual or LGBTQIA+ Communities, I am: Gay
C. Relationship-wise, I am: partnered (with Kevin, for 11 years — also my business partner).
D. My age is: 34.
E. My educational background is: graphic and web design; largely self-taught beyond that.
F. I am currently employed as: Currently Head of the Formalities Department at a notary office (Saint-Martin / Saint-Barth).
G. I live in: Saint-Martin, French Caribbean.

1. I have been seriously writing since I was… around 30. There were earlier attempts — fragments, notebooks, abandoned drafts going back to my teens — but “seriously” started when I stopped waiting to feel like a writer before being one.

2. I consider myself a writer and this is why: I write novels (literary, speculative), essays, and shorter pieces on neurodivergence and creative process. “Author” feels like a title you earn from outside; “writer” is the verb I do every day.

3. I consider myself somewhere between an amateur and a professional writer, and this is why: professional in discipline and intent — I publish on a schedule, I make it the center of my life, but I’m not (yet) making my living from the writing itself. I’d call it “serious practice on the path to professionalism.”

4. The kind of writing I do is: Literary fiction with a sensory, embodied texture (I have aphantasia and anendophasia, so I write through the body rather than mental imagery), speculative work exploring difference as a form of connection, and non-fiction about cognition, creativity, and the inner experience of an atypical mind.

5. The first motivation I can remember that strongly encouraged me to write was: to discover what I was thinking. I knew I could invent stories — the kind I loved telling to other children — but I didn’t actually know what I was thinking; the stories just came out of my mouth. What I wanted to be wasn’t an author or a writer. I wanted to be a Conteur — the one who shows people the way into the land of imagination.

6. A writing topic I return to again and again, and why is: difference as a form of connection — the idea that what separates us can also be the thing that lets us meet. It runs through everything I write because it’s the question I live with: How do you reach someone from inside a mind that doesn’t work like theirs?

7. I find writing in between easy and hard because: the sentences come easily when I’m in the body of the scene; the harder part is staying with a single project long enough to finish it. My brain wants to start everything at once.

8. I want my writing legacy to be: a few books that someone, somewhere, reads at the exact moment they need to feel less alone in their difference. That’s enough.

9. For me, what makes the work of writing worthwhile is: the moment a sentence lands exactly the way the sensation felt. And the rarer moment when a reader writes back to say they recognized something they’d never seen named before.

10. If I stopped writing today, I would feel: like I had amputated the part of me that metabolizes experience. I don’t write to express what I already know — I write to find out what I’m living.

11. When I have been away from writing, I come back to the page because: the not-writing starts to hurt more than the writing. Things accumulate inside with nowhere to go.

12. I write because: it is the one place where my way of thinking — non-linear, image-less, voice-less inside — becomes an advantage instead of a thing to translate.

13. I would like to add that: “Je n’existe pas sans Nous. Nous ne dépend que de Je. L’égalité est dans l’équivalence.” — “I don’t exist without Us. Us only depends on I. Equality is in Equivalence”. That’s my credo, what I’m writing for, and I would love to know what yours is in the comments.

Above is the Michael’s Museum logo as embroidered on several white shirts that I wear when serving as “Artist in Residence” at the Chicago Children’s Museum.

“Now that you are a widow, are you looking for a new partner?”

This question was asked of me again recently. Good-naturedly, with love, and with sincere caring… but always unexpected. It caused me, in my explanation, to once again have to articulate my feelings, which is not always easy to do. I decided to share them with you here, even though somewhat personal.

The question usually runs like this: Have you started dating again? Are you going to be dating? Are you looking for a partner? And with lower implications: Do you think you will get a roommate?

The answer runs like this. “While I do not rule out all possibilities: NO, NO, NO, and NO!” With a smil,e but emphatically, NO! The question always takes me by surprise, if only because it is the last thing I want, desire, or even think about (unless asked).

I have had the LOVE OF MY LIFE. After 12 years of living with dementia/ Alzheimer’s, Gregory died approximately seven years ago, in 2015. He is still a large part of my life, especially after 41 years together. Why would I want another partner, life mate, lover, roommate? Just because I am a widow (prefer that word to widower). Why would people automatically think I am on the lookout for the next relationship or a roommate?

Relationships take a lot of work. I often referred to Gregory and my “union” as one based on “The 49/51% Controlling Interest Principal.” The give-and-take, negotiations, conversations, and arguments involved in any relationship are difficult. The ones that are part of a romantic relationship can at times seem nearly impossible.

While the 41 years of our relationship were not always a piece of cake (I especially love Devil’s Food with Vanilla Buttercream Frosting), being in a relationship (51%) always won out over spending a life without one (49%).

But often the race is close, and the work of maintaining a successful relationship is ongoing and not always easy. Roles should be subject to change on a moment’s notice (another quote Gregory and I often used); respect (including self-respect) is a key factor; compassion is always the rule; and giving up part of oneself is a necessity in any successful love relationship.

Research studies say that if, after the first year, a relationship has not grown beyond romance, love, sex, and being in love, it is doomed to failure! (I cannot quote the source anymore, but I did read the research.

For Gregory and me, having stepped outside of societal norms by declaring and accepting our homosexuality, we often times had to set out our own norms, expectations, and milestones along with the accompanying millstones.

Up front, let me state, YES, I am a gay man and therefore find other men sexually desirable. Like most gay men, I guess I am always checking out those around me and would not turn down a sexual advance if the occasion arose. But just because I am a widow does NOT mean I am looking for a new relationship!

I enjoy my solitude. I love having the condo to myself … to keep clean or to mess up as I choose. The cats, Emma and Gigi, greet me when I arrive home, they madly chase each other at least twice a day, and their warm purring when snuggling in at night will NEVER replace my Gregory, but they provide more than enough “human contact” and a fair amount of responsibility.

My friends and family fill my time comfortably and are there when I need support, for example, picking up a few groceries for me if I am ill. They are there to help meet my “nurturing quotient” as I support them. Calls and e-mails are exchanged, meals in and meals out are shared, events are jointly attended, and movies and theater are shared. More than enough comfort for me.

COVID has changed my life quite a bit. I am more careful about attending crowded events like weddings, the theater, movies, restaurants, etc. I continue to wear a mask when shopping or outside if with many people.

I am never lonely, except when my emotions choose to visit, unexpectedly, with their life lessons, like growing older, and when my grief for Gregory’s having died takes over. But after some tears and some introspection, I come out the other side feeling OK again, if not stronger!

I need to add, in relation to relationships: Who would want to look at me, a 77-year-old man who has seen a few? Yes, I am vibrant, yes, I am well groomed and dress well, yes, I am attractive, yes, I am experienced and interesting, yes, I am financially comfortable … but I am no longer (if I am to be honest with myself) fuel for sexual adventures and conquest.

When I was younger, every man I passed was a potential sexual partner. Every waiter or clerk was a potential adventure. Every glance, every brush of a knee in a movie theater or on the bus, was a possible sign that the other one was interested. Most “signs” didn’t pay off, but in those days, that was one of the only ways of “Homosexual Communication”. When most things were still underground, with very few places to go where you could be your “Gay Young Self,” except maybe one of the few then-existing gay bars, this is where the potential action was.

Also, I need to add that I “came out” when I was 18. I was young and attracted to other young men my age. For me, and I believe for lots of us, youth culture still holds sway even though, as one grows older, the acceptable age range for partners widens. I make no judgments about this; it is what it is!

So here I am, now 77 and by force of habit (and fantasy) I still prefer younger men. In looking for a relationship, as an invisible 77-year-old at whom no one glances or is attracted to anymore, what are my chances of finding a relationship?

With Gregory, we were young, with youthful bodies and desires. Over 41 years, we grew old together, and our love grew stronger together (even through the losses of dementia/Alzheimer’s ) without having to depend on the excitement and lust of youth.

Older men do not interest me, and younger men do not notice me. For those older men in their 50s, 60s, and 70s, I say “No thank you.” For those younger men who would like a “daddy” (not necessarily a sugar daddy with money), I say “No thank you,” that turns me off. For those younger men who would charge me for their services, I say “No, thank you,” which turns me off as well.

So as for finding a new lover, “NO!” Besides the slim chances, Gregory is resting in peace … so the 51% — 49% issue is resolved in favor of not being in a relationship. The 49% wins out.

I enjoy my solitude and privacy; I enjoy the condo to myself. I come and go as I please. I eat when, where, and what I please. I have no major day-to-day responsibilities to anyone but myself (and my kitties). I wake up when ready, go to sleep when ready, and take a nap when I choose.

I buy what I want to buy and usually can afford it. I choose where I want to travel (although that has been COVID-limited), stay as long as I want, and meet new acquaintances or old ones on the way. I do not need a roommate for company or to share the expenses, I am fortunate!

In summary, as a 77-year-old man — who might still like a sexual tryst or two — who would have me … not that I would NOT want to be had! But I do not want or need a new relationship with all the ups and downs, difficulties, learning new lessons, and hard work it entails!

•••

After a 30-year teaching career, Michael Horvich has been retired for 20+ years but has been more than active as an educator, writer, poet, photographer, blogger, artist, jeweler, book binder, lecturer, actor, supernumerary, museum curator, flea circus ring master, and a 12-year dementia/Alzheimer’s caregiver partner for his life-partner Gregory Maire ( RIP. ) Visit WWW.HORVICH.COM .

These gifts, and the gallery in Evanston where they were sold, no longer exist. But it was fun creating while it did. You could buy expensive, hand-crocheted 8mm bead rope necklaces ($100-$300), playful necklaces with interesting bobbles on a chain ($20), and the Small Gift Greetings ($50).

Featured in this post are some of the necklaces I made. I love to crochet, and sometimes I got carried away, and a necklace became a rope belt that one could wrap around one’s waist three times!

For a while, besides the shop in Evanston, my necklaces were featured at the “Pickle Barrel Inn Gallery” in Michigan, just outside of New Buffalo. The gallery gave me a show, and I spent the afternoon as a celebrity, visiting with people, answering questions, and taking a few custom orders.

Funny story: At the show is where I learned that women have breasts. (At least that is what I have named this particular story). I had been making necklaces for a long time, gave a few away, but never really sold any in person.

At this show, many women came to visit, and I learned that necklace length matters. Some women like to wear the necklace close around their necks, some on their breasts, and some below their breasts. Also, the length of a necklace needs to vary depending on whether the woman is large or petite, and, furthermore, on whether she ranges from large-breasted to flat-chested.

After that experience I began making my necklaces according to the standard sizes:

Here are just a few of the crocheted, 8mm beaded rope necklaces that I made.

This is from May 2026, from Willian Lansten with my reply.

Willian is a young friend, an actor, and a QUEER cis male who lives in Brazil. It is published here with his permission. He writes for Substack in Portuguese, and it has been translated into English.

Willian, now 30 years old, inadvertently became a friend, maybe 5+ years ago, after he found me on Google while researching a play he was writing about gay relationships and love. He “fell in love” with Gregory (RIP) and me after finding my writing online! He claims to have read everything I have written. We have been communicating periodically since.

From Willian:

Willian Lansten – May 30, 2026

I wrote a long message for him. I’m not going to post it, but I wrote it. Yes, that guy from the previous text ended up meaning something to me. It lasted longer than expected and took me on a journey of feelings and idealizations. I fell in love—more with what I created than with who he actually was—but I fell in love nonetheless.

For a while, I became mildly obsessed. Whenever I’m given uncertainty or very little to hold onto, I always leave room to dream and idealize. When I don’t have reality, only what I’ve created in my mind, uncertainty throws me into a field of obsession. Without any effort on his part, without anything being clearly defined, without him even wanting anything more, I allowed myself to imagine. I imagined big. Poor guy—through no fault of his own—has no idea.

In the end, I was sad, as I always am, but I held on to the philosophy that “if it hurts, it hurts; what matters is today and letting things happen.” The obsession has eased now. I put my feet back on the ground and let it go, the same way I let it arrive. I understood the feeling, respected it, and realized I was neither a victim nor a bad boy. I knew exactly what I was doing. I understood what was actually being offered, where I was standing, what was real, and what I was creating. It was a huge roller coaster.

He is a free spirit, and I am a heart that wanted to be bound to him. Different pursuits born from the same loneliness. I needed to let him go: first because he didn’t want to stay, and second because I would have turned him into something he isn’t. He’s wonderful, but he isn’t for me. For a moment, I desperately wanted him to be. The chemistry, the attraction, the touch—everything was wonderful. He is wonderful, but it wasn’t meant to be. If I forced it, I would only end up hurt.

He’s someone I admire greatly—the kind of person everyone likes, who brings joy wherever he goes. The exact type I always fall for. The pattern I always repeat. But this won’t be about him. It’s about everything I understood and reflected on since we happened.

First

I always come back to this: I am very lonely and needy. I don’t fool myself with ideas of self-sufficiency, nor do I pretend I am enough for myself. I write about this constantly. The loneliness and the noisy emptiness don’t surprise me anymore. But every now and then, something—or someone, like him—comes along and silences them.

The morning after we slept together, I woke up on his chest, sweaty and satisfied under the blanket, listening to his heartbeat. In that moment, I understood how desperate I had been. There, with him, beside me, there was romance. I didn’t even need to invent it. Immediately and wholeheartedly, I projected.

I long for companionship. I long for connection and for sharing my life. He doesn’t say much—at least not with me. He’s shy, reserved, quiet. The day I brought him home, I talked about everything, as though I had been silenced for years, as though it were the last time I’d ever speak. I talked about my parents, my heart attack, high school, friends from my hometown, college, work, my ex, my move, Britney Spears—everything.

And he listened. He paid attention. He let me talk.

He was quiet from the bus ride until the next morning, but it was a present kind of quiet. His presence was what started everything and what gave it meaning. He didn’t have to do anything except be there.

Second

Sex can be much more than what I had turned it into. It can be an act of exchange, surrender, and vulnerability.

With him, it was exactly that.

Maybe because we did things I rarely do. Maybe because it happened in my bed, which is even rarer. Or maybe simply because it was him. It was calm, intimate, and unexpectedly vulnerable.

We were already intense, wild, and obscene together, but alone, quiet, and in my bed, it became even more intense. Yet there were pauses filled with romance, silent glances, touches that seemed to say, “This will leave a mark on both of us.”

The next morning, after he kissed me goodbye, I deleted all my dating apps and started writing. I decided to take a break from casual sex—not out of moralism, not because I had suddenly transformed from Samantha to Charlotte from Sex and the City, and not because I was hopelessly in love. It was because sex with him meant so much and felt so different that I wanted to preserve that feeling.

I haven’t slept with anyone else this month. Maybe I won’t for a while.

His scent lingered on my sheets for days, and the hickey on my chest lasted for weeks. But what I truly understood was how different intimacy, honesty, and emotional openness make sex feel. I had forgotten that.

And I’ve had a lot of sex.

But what we shared took me somewhere else—a place I’ve only been a few times in my life.

Third

I love falling in love.

I truly LOVE it.

I ignore every piece of advice telling me not to throw myself into romance. I function better when I’m in love. I treat people better. I take better care of myself. I respect myself more. I’m happier, lighter, and more optimistic. I see beauty in the world.

I write more. I see everything romantically. I believe in life.

I dance around the house.

I draw hearts and write names in notebooks.

I encourage my friends.

I laugh more. I sleep better.

I perform better as an actor. I dedicate myself more fully to theater, auditions, and opportunities.

I wish I could fall in love with life the same way I fall in love with men.

I need to get back to therapy urgently. This is an issue where I never seem to make progress.

Fourth and Last

I am a good person.

I already knew that. I didn’t discover it through him.

But I really and genuinely am someone with a good heart and good intentions. I want good things for people. I do good things. I root for others. I don’t create unnecessary harm.

I am a privilege to have in one’s life.

I live to serve others. Making someone else’s life lighter makes mine lighter, too.

I am helpful, attentive, caring, and a good listener—perhaps because I’m a Cancer, and an excessively Cancerian one at that.

My heart attack helped settle some things inside me and made me a better person. This whole episode of projection over the last few weeks made me realize that even more.

I do for others what I often fail to do for myself.

I give others what I do not possess within myself.

I calm in others the chaos I carry inside.

I become for others the person I wish someone would be for me.

And perhaps, through others, I become the person I want to be.

That’s all I’m going to say about this crush. This is the only text I’ll post about it.

Changing the subject: beyond all this romantic projection and memories of what could have been, May was a good month.

In a few weeks, I’ll be premiering my first musical, complete with a solo, choreography, great songs, and everything that comes with it. It has been a long time since I felt this nervous and excited about theater. I dream about the show almost every night—the classic actor anxiety dreams that I hadn’t experienced in years.

It’s a new world and, at the same time, a return to an old one. My first dream was to be a musical theater actor. I started studying theater because I dreamed of Disney and Glee.

And here I am, fulfilling that childhood dream.

It’s not something I intend to pursue professionally, but I’m happy to experience it with wonderful people and dear friends.

A lot of difficult things happened this month too, but I don’t want to focus on them.

June—my favorite month—is arriving with lots of work, lots of intensity, lots of Pride, and new dreams coming true. Doors I never imagined would open are opening.

I remain slightly in love, but I’m adult enough to know that while I can’t control what I feel, I can control what I do.

I’ll redirect this passion elsewhere because next month will change my life.

See you in June!

My Most Dearest Friend Willian,

I start my comments in this flowery way because I wish I could express the love I feel for you and my respect, and to let you know how grateful I am that you found me! You help me to remember what it is like to be young, unattached, carefree, just beginning my life, and at the same time wanting to fall in love, looking for someone with whom to grow old, someone to attach to, someone with whom to share my cares, someone with whom to become a “we” instead of in addition to just a “me” and to begin the rest of my life instead of beginning the beginning.

Young/old. Unattached/attached. Carefree/committed. Beginning/continuing. Looking/finding. “Me”/“We”. These polarities are all part of living a good life, which I know you are doing! And I am fortunate enough in myself that I have succeeded (and I might add done so well) in all of these with my Dear Gregory (RIP).

These things you are looking for, sometimes so desperately, are the “stuff of youth”. Always anxious for what comes next to the point of missing what one has, what one might have, what one will eventually have.

But the secret is in the DOING! One must make mistakes. One must fall head over heels in love with someone who will only cause hurt. One must be foolish so one can learn wisdom. One must have “more sex than any sex worker on the street” and at the same time be chaste. (Said only with respect for sex workers!) One must overspend their credit card limit before one can learn to be frugal (and sometimes not frugal :-)

The SECRET is in not being afraid to DO, to try, to experience, to get through the hurt, to catch a STD (yet to practice SAFE SEX as well so as not to die too young necessarily).

And certainly, while questioning oneself and analyzing one’s life, never doubting oneself or feeling that one is not worthy of the best, and that given enough opportunities and experiences, the best will arrive.

I highly recommend you read “Letters to a Young Poet” (link to AMAZON) by Rainer Maria Rilke. The letters were written at a time when months would pass before the postal service delivered a reply. This alters the nature of the dialogue/communication between the two men. Much different than today. The message Mr. Rilke had for his young poet friend was (in my paraphrase): “Try not to chase life. Try not to have the answers to all questions. Live your life, and it will come to you as will all the answers.”

Wow. That just poured out of my mind, into my fingers, and onto the keyboard. Sometimes I amaze myself!

Your May Missive was wonderful. It is so positive, so filled with self-awareness, self-confidence, self-understanding, and self-love. To me, it speaks of a great deal of growth, not only in understanding yourself but also in learning to sit with your emotions, accept yourself, and love yourself, no matter the outside circumstances.

While you are accepting this new level of your love for “him”, I do not know the name of your recent “head over heels”, I believe it is important to be open to love, to let yourself fall in love, and sometimes to even learn to live with the pain of not having that love returned or having that love last.

Rilke would say (my paraphrase), “If you do not allow yourself to fall in love, how will you ever find love?” “If you do allow yourself to fall in love, love will find you.”

Based on your May Manifesto, I feel like you have come a long way in being better able to understand who you are, and to love that person and respect him. To KEEP CALM AND CARRY ON, as the British saying goes. This is one of a series of posters created in England to encourage citizens to cope with the air raids, fallout shelters, etc., during WWII. The posters were never used, but several years ago surfaced for the great message they carry. I have changed it for myself to: “KEEP ON KEEPING ON”.

I am excited about your upcoming musical adventure. Is there any chance there will be a video of it that you can share with me, even if it is a rogue copy of a rehearsal or a performance? Would love to see you in action as a musical artist. I know that you are a great dramatic actor (have seen both the gay and straight versions, and they are equally good!) I wonder why you already are saying, “It’s not something I intend to pursue professionally,” when you also say, “It is a childhood dream come true?” My advice (unasked for as always :-) be open to everything!

Meanwhile, let me close with my impression that your May Madness Memo shows some amazing growth on your part. You so eloquently and articulately shared your feelings, new and old feelings of self-worth. You are in a much better place, from what I can tell. P.S. I always like to warn: Sometimes one regresses, and sometimes one progresses. Accept both. Know that you will have up times and down times, successful and unsuccessful times, love affairs and hurt affairs … that is what LIFE is all about. KEEP ON KEEPING ON my friend!

All of my writing is done on my trusty Macintosh computer.

I have been using a computer since the Apple II first came out in 1976. To promote them, Apple gave thousands of them for FREE to schools. At the time, I was Coordinator of Gifted Education for the Glenview, Illinois, Public School System.

No one knew, in those days, what to do with these “new-fangled machines,” so my School Superintendent said, “Give them to Michael. His talented and gifted education students will know what to do with them. And they have enough time on their hands, and they are smart enough, so they will not lose any regular curriculum time!

Since then, I have kept up with the fastest, largest, and best that Macintosh computers have to offer.

But I still love to have a book in my hands, so I have self-published ALL of my writing, digital, in book form, and they are available for purchase if you want to read some of my earlier pieces.

All of Michael's self-published books are available at Lulu.com

They are also available at Bookstore.org.

I am so very pleased to present Substack’s “Hazel” as our sixteenth questionnaire participant.

Hazel is a multi-talented writer who works in writing, poetry, and blogging, and for a young person (pardon me, Hazel, but compared to my 81 years your are young!) who has great depth in his experience, his sharing, and his writing! His work brings joy and depth to its reading (and podcast listening).

Thank you, Hazel!

Name: Hazel Allen

Substack Links:

- Of Potatoes and Poets

- The Poe-tato Writing Collective

- The BookStack Catalog

Email: hallen@indiebookstack.com

Date: 5/22/2026

• • •

A. Gender-wise, I identify as: Non-Binary.

B. In the Heterosexual and/or LGBTQIA+ Community: I consider myself Pan-romantic and Queer.

C. I am happily engaged: to my partner.

D. My age is: 24-years-old, 25 in August.

E. I prefer not to talk about my educational background.

F. I live in: Portland, OR.

1. I have been seriously writing since: I was 14 or 15 years old. I really got going in my sophomore year, when I decided to try out Wattpad for my poetry. It was a lot of work gaining reach and engagement, but I was pretty happy with it at the time.

2. I consider myself a writer, poet, and blogger: not necessarily in that order. Though I am also an author.

3. I consider myself somewhere in the middle, writing-wise, between amateur and professional: because I continue to strive for growth every day. As I like to say occasionally, to write is to never stop learning.

4. Specifically, the kind of writing I do is: mostly centered on poetry, but I occasionally do short stories and essays. What any of these pieces are about really depends on the mood I’m going for and the impact I think it will have on the reader.

5. The first person I can remember as a major encouragement for me to write was: my seventh-grade language arts teacher, Mrs. Hughes. She never explicitly said anything like “I think you could be a writer,” but the way her face always lit up when she read my short stories was something special to me. I remember often going all out, writing 20+ page stories when the requirement was only like 3 – 4 pages, haha. Made it difficult to get feedback from our classmates on peer review day

6. A writing topic I return to again and again: actually goes together with another topic. They’re like buddies, really. Death and the passage of time. Often, I get stuck feeling remorseful towards how fast time moves, thinking back to when I was younger. Which is crazy because I am already so young, but I guess this is just one of the bigger fears – to live my life without truly feeling alive.

7. I find writing in between easy and difficult: because it depends on how much energy I have. For poetry, I can whip something out easily, but for short stories or other, longer pieces … often I have little to no energy.

8. I want my writing legacy to be: of someone who inspires creativity, supports growth, and shows that it’s okay to try new things. There are a few people who have grown into poetry since they met me, and that’s something I’ll forever be proud of.

9. What makes the work of writing worthwhile for me: is the impact it leaves on others. I want to know that the reader resonated with my work – whether it’s with the theme, tone, or even just a slight detail.

10. If I stopped writing today, I would feel: … weird. As an autistic individual, writing IS my special interest. To take that away from myself would mean something is truly wrong. It’d be like ripping out a core aspect of my identity. I would essentially no longer be living, figuratively.

11. When I have been away from writing, I come back to the page because: I’m feeling refreshed and no longer burnt out. While in the previous question, I mentioned I’d be dead if I stopped writing, that’s if I stopped writing permanently. Sometimes, breaks are important, and you need time to rest. If you’re constantly exercising your muscles, increasing your expectations, striving to hit made-up milestones (like I often do), you’re likely to struggle with some level of burnout.

12. To sum it up, I write because: it’s who I am, and it allows me to leave an impact on those who read my work. It gives me freedom to create, to make something uniquely mine, and that is beautiful.

13. I would like to add: that if you’re new to writing, or more specifically to something like poetry, don’t be afraid to try it. Start small, don’t focus too much on the finer details. Allow yourself to write, to experiment, and most importantly, to grow. Growth takes time. But also, don’t be afraid to share your writing and to read other people’s writing. We all learn from each other, so don’t be afraid to ask and receive feedback. It’ll help you so much, I promise.

Lastly, thanks so much, Michael, for the honor of being part of this project. To anyone reading this, please go subscribe to him, if you haven’t already. ❤️

Image credit given at end of this essay.

Why do we write? Apparently, not to become a best-selling writer who lives a successful life, having their writing career to comfortably support them, in their hope to live in the lifestyle of the rich and famous. Relatively few writers get this honor. (If it is an honor?)

According to GOOGLE, some of the most successful contemporary writers include:

• Stephen King – Known for horror, suspense, and fantasy novels like It and The Shining.

• J.K. Rowling – Famous for the Harry Potter series and The Casual Vacancy.

• Colleen Hoover – A bestselling author of romance and contemporary fiction like It Ends With Us.

• George R.R. Martin – Author of A Song of Ice and Fire, adapted into Game of Thrones.

• Margaret Atwood – Celebrated for The Handmaid’s Tale and The Testaments.

• Brandon Sanderson – Acclaimed for epic fantasy series like Mistborn and The Stormlight Archive.

• James Patterson – Known for his prolific output in thrillers like the Alex Cross series.

These close to a dozen writers have dominated bestseller lists, adaptations, and literary influence in recent years.

Again, according to GOOGLE, some of the best-selling classical authors include:

• Homer – Known for The Iliad and The Odyssey.

• Virgil – Famous for The Aeneid.

• Ovid – Author of Metamorphoses.

• Plato – Works like The Republic remain widely read.

• Aristotle – Influential texts on philosophy and science.

• Sophocles – Plays like Oedipus Rex are still popular.

• Euripides – Known for tragedies such as Medea.

• Seneca – Stoic philosopher and playwright.

• Cicero – Famous for his speeches and philosophical works.

• Marcus Aurelius – Meditations is a perennial bestseller.

These authors’ works have been reprinted and translated for centuries and continue to sell in large numbers worldwide.

What does that say for the thousands of others of us who write every day, some few getting published, some self-publishing, some sharing on various platforms, and others just piling their manuscripts on the closet shelf to gather dust with the hopes of being revisited someday in the future?

This essay and the following conversation are based on Troy Ford’s insightful piece:

Link:
The Artist’s Woo
A prayer for the discouraged

This is an exclusive sneak peek for FKB readers of my essay appearing during Pride Month in The BookStack Catalog, a wonderful newsletter devoted to promoting indie authors. I hope you enjoy it!

Troy,

Bitter-sweet piece. Love your quote: “Art is not the answer to your prayers. Art is the prayer.” But what about those who cannot eat or afford to pay the rent? And if not done to earn a living, having the books languish on the store shelf is at least as discouraging. When did writing become a second-tier activity? Or has it always been? Have we been blinded by the likes of the few BEST SELLERS that get published, sold, and celebrated? Sad situation for finding truth, experience, confirmation, lessons, realizations, etc., through the printed (or digitized) word? Takes a strong person to feel good about knowing that if they have "helped one person, then I have served my purpose." Most of us writer hope for a larger audience of readers. All I can say is, KEEP ON KEEPING ON. Troy, you are a talent and a love. You are insightful in your writing. Keep on keeping on! Fondly, Michael

Thanks, Michael

- to your question, I suppose, we do what we must until we can do just what we like. You and I both had careers in other fields for many years before writing became our main squeeze. :)

Troy,

I agree. I feel a little embarrassed, or should I say maybe pretentious, to say ,,, to think that I have anything important to say, but at the same time do believe in myself, and know from comments of others that my words matter. Is it wrong to be ambitious and want a larger audience for my truths? Is fiction any more or less important in the human experience than is non-fiction? I am privileged to be able to write for the sake of writing. But there is something much larger and profound behind that desire to write, to share, which is parallel to something much larger in wanting to share one’s experiences and insights into truth, and to hope that one’s words will help to make the world a better place (trite but true), to correct wrongs, to defend those who need defense?

Michael,

I don’t think it’s a question of embarrassed or pretentious - and it’s not wrong to want to share your truth with as many people as you can, I’m not sure I would even class that as “ambition” per se unless it were to the exclusion of writing something that means something to you (or letting AI write it for you, for example.) My piece spoke to something even more fundamental, which is a wish to share truths with the Muse, let’s call it, which comes before most other considerations in my opinion. Without it, we’re just monkeys banging on typewriters… 🐒🙂

P.S.

Ironically, AI, which I will never use to generate my stories, essays, and poetry, did generate the introductory image when asked, “Why do we write?” Go back and look at the image again and ask yourself, “How intelligent and accurate was that of AI?” In some ways, I would like to believe that some of the good that may come from AI is its ability to survey everything that has ever been said about everything (for example, why we write in the case of the graphic at the top of this piece) and gather it and condense it in ways that make it digestible for human beings. Wouldn’t it be nice if writers and AI could learn to work together to do an even better job of doing the good job writers are already doing? Then again, how much of AI do we already have to thank AI for: GOOGLE, Wikipedia, reference searching, spell-checking, grammar-checking, historical overviews, fact-checking? Rhetorically thinking, “I’ll let you decide.”

It begins in Lake Michigan and ends in the Mississippi River. Early on, it ran in one direction, and engineers in 1800 reversed its flow. Over time, the river has been filthy, litter-filled, and unhealthy. Now it is clean and swimmable (although not allowed due to the danger posed by all the boats). One can walk almost the entire river and enjoy not only the water but also visit shops and restaurants. It features water taxis to get from one side of downtown Chicago to the other and south to Chinatown. The Chicago Architectural Center also offers educational tours. It is great fun seeing the iconic buildings from this angle. The river is dyed green for St. Patrick’s Day.

Photo by author

I have been thinking recently about how my life seems to be changing without my awareness or purpose. I am not sure. As I lie in my bed this evening after dinner, staring at the ceiling, contemplating nothing and not looking forward to cleaning up the dinner dishes, I came to an awareness of what has been happening. But I am still not totally sure why it is happening.

The awareness arrived like this:

My life seems to be turning more inward. More inward than it ever has been in the past. I have been reflecting more on my past and present, and thinking about my future. I have been processing and writing more about my life including essays, poetry, memoirs, and now and then a fictional look at life.

I have been paying more attention to being creative with art projects. I have paid more attention to my kitties, keeping them healthy and well-fed, and spending more time petting and brushing them. I look forward to taking an afternoon nap and sometimes two in one day. While I am getting plenty of rest and sleeping well, I am now getting up to start my day at 7:00 or 8:00 am, instead of my usual 10:00 am.

The awareness continued:

My life has been turning less outward. Less outward than it ever has been in the past. Turning away from house cleaning, cooking, reorganizing my collections, and decorating for holidays. Letting dirty dishes accumulate in the sink, sometimes soaking and sometimes not. When I shop for groceries, I prefer to do it online with Instacart, and when they arrive, instead of putting the new groceries away in the refrigerator or on the pantry shelves, they will sit out for a while. Eventually, the refrigerated items get put away, but the dry goods sometimes take a few days to get put in their place.

In general, not caring if the condo is in order or not. I have been doing less caring about my clothing and what I wear, fewer changes of sheets on the bed, fewer showers, although I keep clean anyway. I have been letting things accumulate on my desk, on the guest bed, on the kitchen counter and island, in my closet on any flat surface. Clothes are draped over a chair in the bedroom instead of going into the dirty clothes hamper or being hung up to wear next time. Sometimes I just toss them into a pile on the closet floor until it's time to send them to the cleaners. I have enough underpants and shirts that I only have to wash them once a month (while I still change them every day).

Fewer going shoppings and rarely going to a play, a musical, a movie, or museums. I have not traveled locally, nationally, or internationally since COVID. I would rather stay in my PJs, not get fully dressed, and just hang out in the condo. I rarely go out for walks. While I do not let the kitty litter get too gross, I no longer scoop the poop daily like I used to. I rarely entertain family or friends now, never throw large dinner parties anymore, and prefer to spend holidays alone being contemplative.

In many ways, this is so unlike me. In the past, the condo was always in perfect order, with a place for everything and with everything in its place. After eating, the dishes were rinsed and put into the dishwasher until it was full. Then I would run it and when the cycle was finished, put the clean dishes away, sometimes even before they were dry.

When I brought groceries home, they would be put in the refrigerator or on the pantry shelves immediately. If I had purchased fruit or vegetables that needed to be handled before refrigerating, I would handle them, then put them away. My bed would be made or at least “thrown back every morning. The kitty litter box would be scooped every day and sometimes twice a day.

Clothes in my closet were always arranged in order of shirt weight: light, flannel, heavy. Often, the shirts were in order by color. I would shower daily and now only once or twice a week. I do not smell and do not really get dirty, but still.

For holidays, birthdays, and sometimes just because, I would have friends in for a home-cooked dinner. Often, I would give “immediate world” parties and provide heavy hors d’oeuvres for 30 or 40 people. Now my entertaining is a few times over time and with fewer people invited.

So why are all these, what seem like drastic changes to me, taking place, and why am I so different now than I was not so long ago? Is retirement after 25+ years finally kicking in? Is living alone without my husband of 41 years (Gregory RIP, almost 9 years since 2015) causing some of these changes?

Is the fact that I am almost eighty a reality in causing me to slow down physically and to have less energy? Am I just re-prioritizing what is important to me as I grow older? Had COVID changed my lifestyle like it had done for so many others, with the desire to be more isolated and more contemplative?

Maybe the reasons are all of the above or none of the above. But I must say that I have been enjoying myself with less urgency to maintain “law and order” in my life. I am enjoying being less hard on myself when trying to achieve perfection in my day-to-day life and home environment.

I still get things accomplished, and my condo is far from being or looking like a h’s den. I am still achieving much in my need for creativity and to write every day. I eventually clean up the place, go grocery shopping, cook healthy dinners, and entertain a few friends now and then.

I am continuing to learn so much about myself and continuing to change who I am, my belief systems, my understanding of my purpose in life, and to continue to be generous with others, and to help good causes when I can.

So what do I have to complain about or to worry about? Maybe I am just still becoming! Maybe that never ends? And that cannot be bad!