Self Pity and Cyndi Lauper


I know R Man has just sort of disappeared from my exciting blog reporting. I haven’t gotten used to his absence, I don’t think that will never happen. But I’ve sort of gotten resigned to it. Sort of. There are tedious forms about his death demanding my attention, and a very big house that is very, very quiet, and things like this song.

We were both so fond of it, I remember I was surprised how much he liked it. Naturally, its melancholy, minor key bad self will pop up on my I Tunes shuffle and take me unawares and suddenly, I am a little less resigned.
I’m writing this at 3:00 AM. I will probably regret it tomorrow, but a lot of this blog has turned out to be a note to myself, so I’m asking not to delete this post.

About mrpeenee

A former bon vivant and terror of a number of New Orleans bars in the mad, gay 1980s, I'm now quietly retired and widowed in San Francisco. I have a crooked nose due to an unfortunate Frisbee accident.

12 responses »

  1. The sad feeling never really goes away, we just become inured to it over time. It was one of those things that makes us who we are…thank you for sharing and big hugs


  2. What Norma said.

    I feel when a little vulnerability shows through in your writing that it makes my visit more personal.

    Now stop listening to beautiful gloomy songs and break out Katrina and the Waves.



  3. I understand how the feelings ebb and flow, come and go.

    I have found that whenever I think of my mother and I miss her – as I do – and take stock that my world has lost a safety net that she provided – I simply say “I miss my Mom” and the feeling change. I still miss her and wish I could talk with her, but the emptiness is gone, its out in the open and life goes on.

    Peace and hugs, brother.


  4. And that's not only the power of the arts (music being only one of them) to really get to the core of our emotions — but the power of love, as well.


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