SANCTA NECESSITAS...

I have remarked before on the apparent synchronicity in the lives of the BlogBrothers, from the simultaneous beginnings of so many, through the apparently simultaneous solid ups and then desperate downs of so many of our marriages, and now the slow accumulation of exits and the deaths of blogs. This last wave makes me sadder than I can say; my misery definitely neither wants nor loves company of that sort, helpful as a social life is in general. I am walking this road by necessity, and it is a necessity to which the word "grim" seems peculiarly appropriate. I would be only too happy to travel it with fewer far-flung companions. My heart goes out to all of you. If I were better at prayer, I would pray for you.

On a more cheerful note, I have found to my utter confusion that I have somehow managed, in spite of giving up exercise for this particular period of Lent, to lose thirteen pounds. Having responded rather nastily to Radar's post about attaining a particular BMI, I now find myself all of five pounds away from it, and suddenly it seems not only as desirable as he found it but possible -- if not probable, as I would need to become less lazy than I am. And there is no need to worry, Mr. Bigg, no one has made any comments in elevators; I am not likely to be entering your turf any time soon.

I have made my entry into what passes for gay society in our little burg, and there is such a thing, with all the hallmarks of a small group thrown on its limited numbers for all its needs: the cliques, the unspoken rules outsiders constantly bump up against, the secret handshakes necessary to enjoyment of belonging. Never having had much of a social antenna, I am finding navigation a little complicated. Everyone is being extremely pleasant, but I can't help wondering whether it wouldn't be instructive to be a fly on the wall at some of these events after I leave...

And being simultaneously exposed to the haut bourgeois scene of fabulous real estate and capital-d Design and the nitty-gritty of poor people who can't quite bring themselves to come out, gives me a feeling of whiplash. I suppose I could have found all this in a small New England town, but the juxtaposition seems urban to me. Maybe it is just that so much of our comfort in life comes from forgetting what lies beyond the barriers of our own class, and having the barriers broken down, or trumped by other common concerns, brings things into a new and jarring focus. It's like my new specs, which as computer-designed "progressive" lenses take some getting used to -- there is an area of hawk-like focus in the middle of things, but out at the sides it gets weird pretty fast. They say this wears off, and the same may be true of my social unease.

My mother has expressed an interest in coming to visit when my eldest son is here for his goodbye visit, so now I have a vague deadline by which to actually get the boxes and bags emptied and put away or recycled or trashed... there is so much I have no idea how to do in this town. I suppose everyone should move every twenty years or so, just to be reminded that the things you have grown used to are not the way of the world.

The only other real news is that I have a first job, half-time at best, but not in telephone sales or at a car dealership, so I may be able to hold it down with something resembling success. I start Monday, and would be nervous if I had enough presence of mind to worry. I am been rolling with the punches for so long now that I just keep rolling. Who knew I could become so relaxed?

Hang in there.
Stay with touch.