state of play

It's been a while. Sometimes I do wonder about this introspection, and if there's any point at all to it, but then I think about the past, say, when I was in Italy, and I wish I had some record of that time, beyond confused memories and a few photos, and so I decide to plough on, regardless. For the record.
Recently the funk I have been languishing in for the last weeks seems to be moving on. I am feeling a clarifying, shifting, lightening thing happening. The fog is thinning. The dawn is coming. I feel stronger. And with the JB, despite whatever differences we have, there's him, and there's me, and maybe the differences aren't so great, after all. Things keep occuring to me: it's like a voice in my head, pointing things out. (But a nice helpful voice, not a mean one, that might demand you stick a pin in someone.) It just says things like: "Don't take it personally", or "It's okay", or "Let it go". And I go: Oh! Okay, then. I can do that. And I realise we are not stuck anywhere, but are in a stream of being, and things shift, things move, and there's no pattern that can't be changed. ++++++++++++++++SO++++++++++++++++++ Exciting times we live in, eh? The world economy is changing - perhaps forever - I have even heard the phrase "The End of Capitalism" being bandied. And Obama, the symbol of the future on whom so much rides. Thirteen days to go. Oh, pleeeeease. Come on, America! If this man doesn't get elected, I am resigning from the human race, and going to live with the meercats. In the Manor, you understand. ++++++++++++++AND++++++++++++++++++++
I have to go to a party next week. Fancy dress essential. For some reason I am seeing myself as a sandwich. Existential?
(It wouldn't be the first time. One time in Milano, in one of the most stressful nights of my life, I got lost in a borrowed car trying to get back to a Carneval party, dressed as one. With the crusts off.)
+++++++ENOUGH OF THIS, SURELY++++++++

Down with the Age of Instant Communication

I am in my parents' house once more, as they gallivant around Bologna. It's decidedly autumnal, the barley has been cut, Smokey is busy growing his teddy-bear winter coat, and the magpies landing on the roof sound like witches practising their landing for Halloe'en. Brrrr. I love this time of year.
This morning I saw fit to start a chat to the JB on skype:
Hi J!
LUCKILY I wasn't in the mood to be cheeky, rude or flighty and left it at that. I say LUCKILY for as fate would have it, he was in the middle of a lecture and my message appeared projected on the screen for all to see. Apparently they all laughed like drains, as it was, so a "Hot stuff, last night, babe!" or similar would have stirred up a riot.

And as further evidence of the Down side of the Information Age, I got a very strange email from Italy on Monday. As I have mentioned, I spent some time in Italy as a callow youth, and during that time had a tempestuous relationship with a young feller who we'll call, errrr - E, the Unfaithful. E, a rich boy from Varese, who as his name suggests, broke my heart in the most dramatic and agonising way when he cheated on me during my absence one summer. Time, as we have noted, moved on, healed wounds, made my heart whole once more, and in the end, I went back to him. Things were irredeemably changed though, whatever respect and trust I had for him was gone forever and when I finally left Italy in 94, it was relatively easy to leave him behind too. Over the years (14, shockingly) he has sporadically popped up with the occasional expression of regret that we split up, or invitation to visit him in Italy. I did go and see him a couple of times, just as friends. We never re-ignited that fire, (to put it delicately).
And then I got married, in 2006, to a lecturer with skype.
Cut to Monday morning, and an email from E, the Unfaithful's account:
(translated from Italian)
Sorry Debbie, this is Venus, E's girlfriend. I don't know if you are still together? he told me you got married, and he wants to marry me. I don't know what to think..
After the initial HUH? effect wore off, I gather that Venus (real name?) was poking around in E the Unfaithful's account, and found an old email from me dated 2004, during one of those sporadic contacts. She must have some reason to be suspicious, - and since E is decidedly slippery, probably with reason - and he must have mentioned me,  making her think we might still be seeing each other in some long-distance, adulterous way. It all sounds horribly familiar.  I feel really sorry for her. Maybe I should answer and say - what? I want to clear my Good Name, and to warn her about him, but part of me wants nothing to do with the weirdness. And, anyway how can I answer her at his email account?
The JB suggested I tell her to give me her own email address or give her my phone number.

**You know, though normally I enjoy the tranquil backwater quality of my blog with its occasional visitors, it's time like these I wish I had actual commenters, who might know what to do. Please feel free if you happen this way, and have an idea.