I just can't do it.

I thought that having a blog would make me write more regularly. The problem is, as a writer I'm picky and insecure. I read, re-read, edit, re-edit and sometimes actually post something.

Also my life has gotten very busy. I have recently met someone and I am in love. Her name is Daniella and she's an eight year old, grey mare. I am spending four days a week at the barn or in the bath when I get home, filthy, exhausted and as happy as I ever get. And I can get pretty damn happy.

So, I am going to continue to post on my blog. I am not going to subject myself to the gruelling editing, fretting stuff. You, poor reader, will just have to deal with it. The more I write the better for me and it's my blog, so there.

I had this idea that my blog would not be about my health. Well, excuse me but fuck that. With all my diseases, constant pain and hassles seeking health care in this great nation, my life is all about my health.

This horse is about my health, she's fat and lazy and making me stronger and so happy. This blog is about my health. I don't fancy dementia and having to at least slightly organize some thoughts once or twice a week to post something, should do me good. So, here's another shitty little poem.

Whew. Now, I feel better. Hope you're well too. Chat soon.