Small Scale Freight

I’m looking into it, as an independent contractor. I would likely need a sponsor. Just a cursory look gives me a good idea on logistics and up front expenses and consumables. I have a good contact in the industry. Projected gross would easily cover startup costs, if I can ramp up right away. That’s when I talk to the expert.

I don’t know how much more limping I can stand. I need to know I can maintain a home.



You’re so cute.

I’d like to write you again when I get settled

Not the best

Slowing way down. Just about hydroplaned into the guardrail.

Weather usually doesn’t affect me. Today I’m spooked.

I messaged my ex about getting rid of the cats. I’m leaning toward driving truck. Good pay and no time to spend it. Ten years of hard labor will give me investment options.


Trying not to feel sick. Sleeping helps. I’ve slept a lot lately. I can’t think my way out. In the past I built up my positive attitude and looked for opportunities.

I’m locked up. That little rainbow wheel is spinning endlessly in my mind.

I’m lost.

I keep hoping I’ll wake up with a solution.

I’m two steps from joining the grind. I’ll find some useless job I can tolerate to make ends meet working fifty hour weeks.

An Angle

Alright. I’ve always thought you good at bringing me back to the conversation. You’ve read me well. Still, my circumstances are very challenging right now. It’s hard to concentrate on my work.

My life has been completely opposite as yours, socially. My space has always been shared by someone or another, roommates, family, lovers. I’m just now finding the beauty of independence. I’m not sure the circumstances humans do the best with. It’s probably mixed.

But because we are incomplete beings, we must trust and rely on others to help complete us, I’m pretty sure. We have limited perspectives. Though we can write and share them, the personal experience is really important. It doesn’t mean they have to live together, or be bound. I’m seeing the “happily ever after” scenario limited to a smaller subset of people. But I’m a believer in strong connection.

I seriously still have love for most of the women I’ve had shared my past with. There was one, it was shallow and didn’t last long. As it turned out, we were physical first. Then I found out the quotient of understanding on extremely different levels. At that point, the quickies became less interesting due to lack of connection intellectually. It caused me to stop dating for fiveish years. The shallowness was based on a party lifestyle, I’m sure I’ve listed the substances in another post.

I’m not sure if it’s innate or learned, but some think “making love” and others “having sex.” I also don’t know what the psychological differences are. Maybe to the mind, it is the same, for both viewpoints. For me, love has always been the result of a decision based on trust. Not that I’m anything special. I’m sure there are some great love makers out there. For me, the touch, the slide, press, are so highly personal.

Most things are, to me. I played my guitar for my ex before I played for my family (not including my high school rock band, but that was a group). I was in my late thirties before I could speak in front of a crowd. Now, I do alright. I don’t recite very well. I have to practice a lot just to present one poem. That’s why I don’t do the open mics. But I’ve been invited to one in Cross Plains that meets once a month. I should at least go to see what it’s like. I’m so used to reading so much talent on WP, I’m afraid to find what local talent sounds like. It shouldn’t matter, if it’s from the heart.


Love. (I’m sure there are a lot of lectures on it. They can express it better than I.) I think it is most closely related to Trust. “I can talk to you about anything.” It goes to your vault and is sacred, not judged. “I can trust your feelings for me will not change for the moments of our engagement.” I can trust your touch! Even though, my body isn’t a thirty year old. No wonder so many divorced people get bitter when trust is broken, and they shout obscenities to each other.

It develops as the two learn the layers of each other. Imperfections become patina, oxidized patterns that add to the art of the person. “Yeah, she’s got faults… I love her.” These things happen over time. After parting, you may be in another part of the world think of me and come back, time and again, because you miss me. Or maybe you return for my call.

I admit infatuation. You know! The writing hauled me in, I became concerned for your suffering, your bitter past gave me nightmares, wanting to champion you. All the time were my feelings for you. But I’m alright holding them, they are a gift to me. I’m satisfied with the perfection of a daydream. The fact that you have any attention toward me is just kind of amazing. But the touch is special. I’m not sure how else to explain it.

Does that help?