I’m tired

And I’m tired of being tired.

I love the ideologies of dialects.
The dialect getting attention at the moment is one of romance; affection, tenderness. I reflect on a quote from one of my new favourite films;

The lover in you is malnourished, and the self-pitying side over-fed.

Spoken in a faux Argentinean accent by the magnificent Ian Holm; the film is titled The Treatment.
While I would never say that the lover in me is ever fully deprived, it is perhaps sometimes asked to set aside its instincts and dress sharply, stealthily even, and perhaps given instruction to take flight to the rafters and remain aloft to observe.
Nevertheless, I give it plenty of exercise, hence the focus on the romantic dialect. I’ve often marvelled at those not in relationships that let their senses of affection and intimacy become lax and haphazard. Being in a relationship is not required to exercise affection. Thoughts, ideas, fantasies, indulgences, disciplines, disappointments, desires, experiences and exploration of common-language including those often non-verbal, are all things that make up romantic dialects.

I pride myself that I always maintain this part of my spirit and mind, regardless of whether it thrashes about like an impatient child, or clenches itself regally aloof while giving pensive stares from stern and neutral adult expressions.

There must be a use for all this delicacy, this detail, one of these days. Surely it must be as interesting to someone else as it is to me.