Distance: 6 blocks, (Still lugging heavy things in and out of here), home yoga
We live in a relentlessly extroverted society with constant promotion of family, festivals, togetherness, backyard barbecues, fetching looks, desirability to others, keeping up and being with the Joneses. If you're a loner and not drawn these things, well....
In case her readers haven't noticed, let Ciwt say out loud that she Loves living alone (with Callie).
Some day maybe she'll write a post - or many - counting the ways. The downside is constantly having to combat near universal fear-mongering about the hazards of being a loner: being socially awkward/completely undesirable/maybe even mentally ill, not having your affairs in order, having no friends or interesting activities, eating badly and living on alcohol or drugs, despairing in the utter bleak silence, hoarding, and, of course, dying and not being found for weeks until the smell finally gets some stranger's attention. No wonder most people are terrified of being alone, haunted by the fear of dying alone.
So, why is Ciwt talking about this today? Because The New York Times is running a multi-day front page spread about (here's the headline)
The Lonely Death of George Bell
leading with such words as 'alone and unseen,' 'forlorn, 'puffy body,' 'decomposed and unrecognizable' - and, in a decision Ciwt finds reprehensibly invasive, running huge color pictures of his messy, dirty apartment.
Maybe the story has some merit, but Ciwt cannot go on with it after such an introduction. The assumption she's left with is that George Bell will be portrayed - like most loners are - as miserably, helplessly lonely, abjectly desperate or worse. But maybe George Bell was just fine with his own company, chose to live in solitude, savored the freedom of doing as he wished with his life. Maybe for George Bell the circumstances of his death was unpredictable but living alone was the most suitable lifestyle choice. Who knows?
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