is shrinking.

Philip Jose Farmer, the sci fi writer, has died at 93. I knew him marginally.

Every day more of the people I once knew are attriting (I have made up that word and pronounce it attrishing). Also, friends, non famous, who I was close to, are dropping right and left, or, if alive, are hanging on by a thread. What is most dismaying is when you know someone in his or her prime, they are vital and engaging, bright (at least those I chose to know were like this) and because I was so much younger than they, I am saddened to see them languish while I march on like the Energizer Bunny.

A fellow, 14 years older than me whom I dated when I was 19 and he was 32, can’t be found in the People Search engines I use. I am unwilling to pay for information so his end may be a mystery to me forever. We had an unfortunate break-up and he was remiss in many ways. To this day, I would like to explain to him how flawed he was (in excruciating detail). I guess that’s my problem. And anyway, what can you say to anyone who is now, if alive, 91? If he retained his smarts, he wouldn’t give a damn what I had to say. Or he would be so frail, that I would refrain from invective. I should have looked him up 20 years ago when he might have withstood a right to the jaw.

But another fellow, an Iraqi of all things, whom I dated when I was 22 and he was 24, is alive, ‘though not so well, and living in California. I looked him up in 2004 and we have had correspondence and phone calls since then. He is part Indian, part Iraqi, and speaks English with a British accent. As a young man he was physically impressive and very strong. Now he has a horrific heart problem, although he tells me he is still pretty active with the ladies. They all want to take care of him. Well, bless me, go for it John.

So even my contemporaries are struggling.

Since the notify system of MyBloggers isn’t working the past couple of days, it is quite possible no one will see this post. Safe for now. Correct me if I’m wrong. 

xx, Teal