Of Abe Lincoln And A Woman's Sublime Laughter

"The whole conviction of my life now rests upon the belief that loneliness, far from being a rare and curious phenomenon, peculiar to myself and to a few other solitary men, is the central and inevitable fact of human existence." Thomas Wolfe

I've done a great deal of meditating on loneliness of late, partially because of a nasty argument with someone whom I was fond of, but mainly because I just feel it terribly. Getting an email or phone call from a friend mercifully provides relief. And in the rare instance that I actually leave my flat on a date or do something social I break free of it almost totally for as long as I'm out there with another.

The idea that one can ever escape a sequestered existence and truly escape isolation is a pipe dream, and one certainly not shared by everyone. When in a close relationship with someone, the desire to be left alone on occassion is strongly held. But for me, a fellow out of a relationship for over a year and only briefly involved with a woman whom I later found out to be a poor match (I loathe snobs), the nights are mercilessly long. The firm yet delicate power of a woman's embrace, the smell of her hair and clothes, and a look in her eyes that shows no evidence of judgement, only love and comity, that is what I miss. My memory is poor, due to ECT and some medications, but I can remember how every single one of my girlfriend's laughed during our first rendevous. There is no victory in life like it. To put her at ease and see her luminous eyes and sweet little mouth curl-up into a smile, and finally hear the sublime music of heartfelt joy. To feel clever and witty and even desired. Those are the moments you remember when you think you're on your way out.

I wonder if anyone thinks fondly of isolation as they get ready to enter the void. Does anyone say, "I was so lucky in life, I never had to worry about a partner getting in the way or stealing the covers at night." I'm sure some do, but doubt that it's very many. Because deep down I think we all know that there is nothing after death, and in non-existence we are eternally alone, without even the company of ourselves. And we certainly won't have to worry about anyone stealing the covers.

I don't take my lack of a social life these days personally. Given my health problems and inclination towards isolation due to pathological anxiety, I know that I'm not putting myself out there. I do have my eye on a couple of young ladies, but I'm far from a social butterfly...very far. Every woman I've been with has agreed that I'm both funny and interesting. And that sex with me is a religious experience that puts other men to shame. So I know not to be too hard on myself here.

Before I go, I have to post this painting I found. I think it's the worst painting I've every put my peepers on. It's by Carlo Pittore, and is entitled, "#21 Surprised." What puts it over the top for me isn't the bizarre implied gyration of the nude, which is reminiscent of a turtle on its back. but the inexplicable presence of a framed picture of Abe Lincoln. I don't know, maybe it's brilliant.