there's too much too write about. feelings get blocked, bottlenecked. at 57, after years alone, after failed attempts, after misguided romantic trailings, starting to love again, in complicated human form, is daunting and exciting. already stuff about my father is rising, which was rising before almost in anticipation. weird stuff, i feel like an adolescent and an old man gone in the teeth and of addled mind, yet. like i'm just starting out, which is a good thing, and sad too. 
been thinking about the haters perhaps too much. yesterday it dawned on me it's about more than them, even more than them attacking my essence. it's about being reduced and squelched by my judging father who was not at all fit to understand me let alone judge. its about being judged and coerced and attacked by fools. about hate in a global sense, about economics, and capitalist hegemony. hate writ small and large in the human family.
i want to practice love.

all this and more. i'm fragmented. i'm a fragmented whole.