OK, I've been remiss again.
But here's why. Montana. Yes, you'll be getting installments of "Camp Tales" very soon, just as soon as I look over my journal and assess the calamities.
This was 30 miles from where Frontier House was filmed.
But I digress. Here's a summary of the past month's events: Crackie came back. Yes, I even beckoned and opened the door for him. Stupid. More later. Cactus wrote me and got hung out to dry. In fact, after I tore him a new asshole, I even patched it up for him and put a band-aide on it, just to show him I had no hard feelings. Then I tore Crackie a new one and blocked him.
Well, it's all part of this journey I'm on. I NO LONGER DENY my feelings, good or bad. And no longer spare them for some stupid man. He's going to know how I feel, and that's how it goes.
But there's yet another man on the horizon. He's old school. I'm going slow and keeping an open mind. I watched and grasped The Secret, and things are looking different.
I think for so long I was internally screaming, NO MORE ASSHOLES, that I was drawing them like moths to a porch light.
So I changed up my way of thinking. And it worked.
More later.
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