This blog, with its nonexistent readership, often veers sharply into the personal, and today will be one of those reflections. Just over a month ago, I met a fascinating writer, who foams at the mouth like Howard Zinn..of course I am enthralled as rarely do I meet such an intellectual tour de force in the flesh. Being a captivating story-teller, he was soon predicting a future for us that tugged at my deepest dreams, but being a typical man, he was not available - emotionally or otherwise - to follow through on these grand schemes. My response? Vacillation, and a guarded optimism that at the very least a friendship can be sustained. I've an allergy to emotional entanglements and messiness of any variety. And for some reason, after an extended dry spell, I appear to have a long list of suitors. There seems to be a reemergent 50's singles scene that I was hitherto unaware of. So I'm not anxious to settle for anything -or anyone- that is not exactly who or what I want. Is this crazy writer who or what I want? Some days yes, others no. From behind a veil of trepidation I will measure the relative merits of a continued involvement with this individual. Some see that as being mercurial..I see it as being cautious. I need my heart to beat for me; I can't hand it over to just anybody anymore.