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i,m beginning to think i,m too old for these sites,despite my best efforts,i hav,nt had one reply aaaahhh

GROWING OLD...
we are living longer in this country ..average is about 76.. but are we living better???...the majoriety of seniors...over (50 )folks!!!..like it or not..if your over 50 you have lived 66% of your projected life span.. so your not young..face lifts.tummy tucks...trips to the gym..knee replacements..hips..bypass surgery.. heart transplants..all are driving our society into debt..our social security and insurance was never ment to cover this quest for perpetual youth.. and it seems to do little to forstall..the final descent into old age..

i for one am finding this a hard road to travel.. i work..hard and long hours.. 12 hour shifts up for 18 and turn around and do it again.. its hard to find someone to share your life with at my age..you are not a viable entity anymore..women are not looking at you as a provider ...a potential father.. a protector.. at my age (59) your more of a liability ..ready to drop at any given moment..older women seem to be done with men.. have had their failed relationships.. suffered and once free of the yoke..tend to not want to go back..and they tend to socialize in female groups..men do not.. i seem to know a lot of older guy and they are like me..alone..work and work..and little else..unless they are active with their children... the fear of a stroke..heart attack..of waking up one morning and not knowing who or where you are these fears have made me angry...about growing old..as my body fails me.. and i find socially i am unwanted.. my last attempt at finding a soulmate ended with .. you want to much in a relationship..your not active enough..your to fat..your health is not to good.. your to sedentary..you not finacially secure.. you make less than i.. all things that alas were true..but things i thought i could change ...in time.. but ..time was not to be given...
with that in mine



BOOKENDS

i sit ...and stare...
you feed me...bathe me,
wipe my face..comb my hair.
move me from ..place to place.

i am a bookend ..not a matched set.
moved from here to there.. at others will.
nothing of vaule..but hard to replace.
cracked and mended..old and broken.
one of a kind..but out of place.
what do we do ..when we become......
bookends

First they're less inhibited, generally speaking. Esp. the Germans; I love 'em.

Second (which I think is related to the first), they're more adventurous in bed. They just seem to know more 'stuff' in the bedroom. It's like they are born with it.

Third, they are mostly natural. Scandinavian and Mediterranean women all seem to have that 'glow' about them, a natural fitness that comes with their diet, culture and lifestyle.

Fourth, they're very aware politically and geographically. They vote conscientiously, they know the difference between socialism and communism, and they take a solid stance on the matter.

Fifth, they're well-traveled. By the time a typical urbanite European woman reaches the age of 25, she's probably been to Africa at least once, to Paris twice, to London thrice and to Amsterdam many, many times.

Sixth, they speak several languages. That always is a plus in whatever matrix you decide to measure it.

Finally, they have less hang-up on race. I will not accept any argument on this last one. You can disagree with me on the others but not on this one.

These are my opinions and are mostly my general impression. Your personal experience might differ from mine.

I love forays into each day and wonder where I may wander. Often I'll take a different route somewhere and consider it another adventure.
Some forays into new and different adventures take a lot of consideration because of the hope for a pleasant end result.

Today, I "walked" (so to speak) in a new direction, something I've been contemplating for a while but didn't venture into due to a little fear. I'm not really afraid of much but I so dislike the feeling I get if I am rejected in some way, whether that be a work related rejection, or something in my personal life.

So now I await the result of my "foray" and see if I should continue the journey down this path. Or turn around and go the other way.

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"I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain."

~Bene Gesserit Litany Against Fear~

From Frank Herbert's "Dune"

I used to go to the gym once a week to try and keep fit. It was a great success,- I'd work out for not quite an hour, then hang out in the sauna and jaccuzzi for another hour, gazing absent mindedly into the tv screen overhead.. and then to top it off I'd go and eat a nice piece of cake in the cafeteria..- nothing like regular exercise. (!)

Well,- these fitness things just dont work for me. Its not that I dont like to move about,- I love riding, dancing, rowing, cycling, roller scating..ice scating,- well, I like it all, really. But when it comes to doing it regularly it just soon bores me.. So I end up doing something else instead.

Now I seem to have solved this problem. I have found a little house to live in with a big garden. I am heating with wood in Winter, and shunting all that wood around keeps me moving. Now that its Spring, I am already painting the garden furniture and soon I'll have to dig the veggie patches, trim the hedges, and then all the lawn mowing starts again.. Not to mention cleaning out the pond, turning the compost and spreading it out.

I have plans to build a patio, or move some of the large rocks that are placed here and there, and a few bushes too.. but frankly, for that I will get help.

So you see, I have found a way around my enertia problem, I tricked myself into having to exercise, by living in a home that demands much work. So even I will move about a bit now and again..

How do I say goodbye to someone I never had?Why do tears feel for someone who was never mine?Why do I miss someone who I was never with?And why do I love someone whose love was never mine?

I turn to you, my heart is wide,
All I am is you inside.
Arms open to your body, warm.
I take you to me, sheltered storm.
Such tender skin, shivering flesh.
Wide, lovely eyes, my soul refresh.
My life revived here by your light.
Your heart is cherished in my sight.
Eternity is what I pledge.
Follow me up to the edge.
I'll keep you safe if you allow,
Take a breath, forever now

The fear of striking out, fear of eating only white rice with pork consommé once in a day; fear of feeding salivating tongues of black blabber with my unfair treatment held me down in my little cabin.
Added with tales of folks who left their home but never came back, folks who jumped to their death while evading these fowlers-I became more frightened. Just like the unpredictability of death, no one knows their next victim. Friends that once took brave adventure has become preys- beaten like common criminals, handcuffed and clamped down in jail for repatriation, a jail lesser than hell by flames.
Like summer snares, they are everywhere, in the bus, metro, taxi, around all nooks and cranny; disguised in casual attire noted for its smokescreen like hungry lion waits in dry grass, desperate for a black skin to exercise their above-board.

There is no safe place, no not a place; no part of this earth could hide me from their scary eyes, if they were one, I would have no fear but like soldier ants, their ways are brutal - a natural habit of brutes, and of the whole realm of organized life below them, they wage war upon any black instinctively. My friend’s door was broken down in the early hours of the morning while he was sleeping. The first thing he knew was these fowlers coming into his bedroom. Hitting and kicking, shouting and barking, swirling and twirling everything in his closet.
“Where are you, black monkey? Come out here or I’ll bundle out” shouted one of them. They are asking for document or money, but if this would be a one time settlement,I rather sale my limp and have my peace. But their thirst are insatiable, their demand can never be met. They rather have you sale your whole body than seeing you work down their street.

My heart beats unsteadily, my skin is hot and my stomach is empty.
They are here, everywhere with iron-batons, shackles and firearm. All that I hated most was the scrambling footsteps of my native neighbors around my threshold. Doorbell became the vilest thing, it rang every now and then; “shall I disconnect it?”
“Who told them I’m at home? How did these fowlers know I’m in here?”
My heart began to beat faster again; my feet shuddering, sweat all over me on that spot.
Memories of my previous encounter with them came to me in a flash.
Here comes the bell again and again, this time, more persistently!
“Truly, they are here, right at my threshold”. “What shall I do?” “Where shall I hide, under my bed, in my closet? Who do I call?” Just as I was pondering with my tails tucked in between my legs; the bell came again and again with hard knocks at my door. Oh God, where are you? So I’m their next victim.” How I wish I have wings; I’ll fly through my window. Suddenly a thought came into me; “for how long shall I be in this fear, how long shall I remain in my little cabin thinking, praying and wishing? -“Na once man go die” Boldly, I opened my door but thank goodness, it was a “postmaster who brought my bank draft”
Josiah C. RACER