Tag: discussion

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personal

Talk. I’d listen

Everything here, I say to my friends in real life; it’s why Jill thought I was giving her lines when I was just being myself.

One thing I tell people all the time is: drink rum. Seriously, do me a favor this weekend and one night do nuthin but pound rum. Mojitos, Captain n Coke, aged rum on the rocks with a slice of orange, whatever – just don’t drink any other type of alcohol.

Drink one glass of water with a multivitamin fore you sleep and see how you feel the next day. No hangover. Plus, note that you’ll feel “happy” versus “angry.” Those same two chemicals I told you bout last time not only give you that nasty hangover but also make you an angry drunk.

The beauty of rum is when you go on a bender, it only lasts that night. The next day you’re just as productive as you woulda been had you not been on a bender at all.

Rum. It’s nature’s perfect drink.

Another thing I say to people all the time is Proverbs 27:17, which goes Iron sharpens iron, so friends sharpen friends. The people you surround yourself with are your mirrors to the world. It’s also why it’s painful when people leave your Venn Diagram. You dull a little when they do.

Interestingly, that bible quote was in an article on relationships in the NY Times. The article notes that more marriages are killed by silence than by violence. It’s harder than you might think. The talking.

Her: My thing is that I just lose interest in people. You know how when you just want someone gone and you don’t even want them to say anything? Ever? I hate how that feels.
Me: (slowly) More than you know.
Her: Yes. So that’s why I wanna go slowly. I’m getting ahead of myself by trying to stay behind. Does that make sense? (pause) We don’t have to stop talking yet. You could talk. I’d listen.
Me: OK then, let me tell you a story…

Location: 8:19, trying to figure out what to clean first
Mood: excited
Music: so few come and don’t go

Categories
personal

Harvard

Not everyone gets in

Here’s a post I did on the fire in my hood.

Her: I don’t understand. Why do these things keep happening to me?
Me: Cause you give your blessings away too early. I think of myself like Harvard: Anyone can apply, but not everyone makes the cut.
Her: I’m not like that. I fall quickly and hard; I’m very passionate. I like falling in love.
Me: How’s that worked out for you?
Her: (pause) Touche.

If your life isn’t as you want it, I submit that it’s that way cause, whether you’ll admit it or not, you’re getting something from it.

If you’re the victim, the doormat, the outsider, I submit that some part of you wants to be that way. Cause you know your lines, you know your cues. You know the role. And there’s a comfort in that.

Change is tough. Sometimes it’s easier to be the victim – to blame things outside your control. But it’s a crap role.

There’s this saying that goes, If you keep doing what you do, you keep getting what you get.

Expect more from yourself, then you can expect more from others.

Look, why don’t you give yourself permission be the person you wanna be already? Then this stuff’ll stop happening to you.

Location: 6:15, awake in my bed
Mood: content
Music: my tongue is sand until the iridescent band begins to play

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personal

Yeah, I’m done, I’m good to go

I think we’re all looking for the things we can’t put into words

Evidently, Harold’s taken up smoking.

Y’know, you try to bring a houseplant up right, teach them the difference between right and wrong, and still…

———-

With nods to Rianessa and Constellajen for their emails and the Pretty Cake Decorator for all this cake/dough talk. And HEI.

Have you ever wanted, say, a donut? Like really wanted a donut? And you eat everything sweet in the house but nuthin hits the spot cause, even if you ate a Fondant au Chocolat from Le Cirque, you didn’t get what you really wanted?

So then you get dressed, shlepp out into the cold and feel ridiculous because you’re a 35 year-old dude out in Manhattan at 3AM looking for a whole wheat donut.

And when you arrive and they hand over that whole wheat donut, it’s like you found Mecca. You down that bad boy, sigh, and think, Oh yeah, I’m done. I’m good to go.

That’s my answer to all of you that keep asking me what I’m looking for. Something that I know I want but can’t put inna words. I’m looking for the SING – the one of the 533 that fits into that something I can’t put inna words.

No sweet lie, keep hoping that the Pretty Cake Decorator, or Heartgirl, or the Blue Eyed Girl, or someone ends up being her.

And Yes, I’d give it all up, the womanizing, the late nights, the randomness, like quicksilver on crack cause that’s all justa placeholder for what I know what I really want. Nuthin else’ll do, you see.

Every single time, I’m hoping that I can say, Yeah, I’m done, I’m good to go.

Man, I’m hungry.

No wonder Harold’s taken to smoking.

Location: 11PM yest, on my couch, talking to Constellajen
Mood: optimistic
Music: She said to come claim what was mine So down I fell

Categories
personal

Jill

Location: 21:34 yest, grocery shopping w/a pretty lady
Mood: proud
Music: I’m happy for you I think I’m gonna take that drive

Breaking with tradition, the Sexologist/SX’s real name’s Jill McDevitt. She owns a sex novelty shop called Feminique Boutique in Philadelphia.

———-

My religion says, quite plainly, that there is a separation of church and state. Only bad things can come if the two mix.

History’s borne this out: The Crusades, the Inquisition, State terrorism – all tangible examples of religion used as a sharp object with the obvious results. Religion’s a shield. It’s never been a good sword.

More importantly though, it’s counterproductive; religion with government strengthens government but kills religion. In Europe, where tax is still levied to pay for churchs, belief’s at an all time low.

Here in America, where religion is not allowed into government, a whopping 50% of the population believes. For the good of religion and people, the god and government should never mix. Love of god, when forced, isn’t love at all. Love of anything, when forced, isn’t love at all.

I bring this up cause Jill’s being sued by the local priest; he wants to protect the children – despite her being in full compliance with local laws.

Personally, I want neither a priest nor the government protecting my children’s moral constitution – when I get ’em, I’ll protect them just fine, thank you. Also, it’s ludicrous to have the choices of adults dictated by the possibility that a child’s sensibilities may be affected. That’s why we have parents. If you’re in the area (or even if you’re not) here’s a petition.

As for Jill and me, our Venn Diagrams separated not that long ago but she dropped me a line recently and it was good to hear from her. It’s always good to hear from people from your possible pasts, yeah?

Y’know, I met her on a random Saturday night a while back. Let’s see what happens this Saturday night.

Categories
personal

Guernica

 

Stopped by a friend’s house midday in Queens cause I was around the hood but he was out so his wife and I caught up. She wants to fix me up with some of her doctor friends.

I’m not sure she knows what she’s getting them into.

———-

Picasso’s Guernica is probably one of the most famous paintings of suffering out there. Buddhism says that suffering comes from the uncontrollable. Either externally, such as in the painting, or internally, when we try to control the uncontrollable.

I believe that.

On a related note, man, I wish I could fall asleep.

Of course, there is no great tragedy without some small gain(s): I’m completely caught up on Lost and BSG, can now do all my sabre strikes with my left hand and have made a month’s worth of chili.

I’m thinking of brushing up my German or teaching myself Arabic or something. I dunno. I’d rather sleep.

Location: 21:00 yest, thrust, parry, thrust on the UWS
Mood: tired
Music: The old man said to me Said don’t always take life so seriously

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personal

McGuffins, Caterpillars and Pepe le Pew

I’m a bit like Pepe le Pew

With nods to a friend.

According to Hitchcock, a guy on a train sees something above and asks another dude what it is.

Guy2: It’s a McGuffin. It’s used to catch lions in Scotland.

Guy1: There’re aren’t any lions in Scotland.

Guy2: Well then, a McGuffin’s nuthin at all.

Used in stories or film, a McGuffin’s just a device that the characters place meaning onto to move the story along, like in Ronin where they’re all chasing after some briefcase but we never find out why it’s important. It’s just important cause they made it important.

With the exception of health and family, I submit that a lot of what you put your heart and soul with, it’s nuthin at all. A lot of what I put my heart and soul into is nuthin at all.

At the end of the cartoon above, the characters are the same; the situation’s the same. The only thing that’s changed is each character’s perception of reality. But, man, that’s everything, that’s the whole nut, yeah?

Heard once that, On the day he thought he died, the caterpillar turned into a butterfly. It’s dorky, overly sentimental and hopeful. Like me.

Speaking of which, y’know, I pretty much am Pepe le Pew when I’m out and about. And ’bout as successful.

It’s ok, I have fun…Bonjour Week-end! Où sont les filles?

Location: home
Mood: beat tired
Music: tell your white knight that he’s handsome in hindsight

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personal

Creepy

You get points in life for being brave

Late Monday night, got the most creepy phone call ever from HeartGirl – or, rather, from her and her hella creepy friend. Wanted to take a shower afterwards.

Speaking of which, I met seven women this long weekend. I’ve been told that the reason I meet so many people is that I’ve got a really low “creepiness factor.” All men people have it; some more than others.

Consider this: HEI had some guy she vaguely knows recently wait on her doorstep unannounced with flowers and wine. He mighta been there for hours. In Hollywood, that’s romantic. In the real world, that’s creepy. Let’s review, shall we?

Standing outside your ex’s home holding a boombox belting out Peter Gabriel.

Hollywood: Romantic
Real life: Creepy (and stalkerish)

Meeting a girl for 10 minutes and telling her that you’re her soulmate.

Hollywood: Romantic
Real life: Creepy (and pathetic)

Telling someone that they “complete you.”This one I particularly loathe – cause who wants someone that isn’t whole on their own?

Hollywood: Romantic
Real life: Creepy (and lame)

Following a girlie around a bar all night because you spoke to her for five minutes.

Hollywood: Creepy – Look, even Hollywood thinks this is creepy. Don’t do it.
Real life: Creepy (and something I see every week)

 

Seriously, there is no line you can say to a girlie, no shirt you can wear, no drink you can buy that will change your ability to talk to a girl than lowering your creepy factor. How to do this is a whole ‘nother story.

BTW, HeartGirl called me twice to apologize for her friend; I called her back and we spoke.

I think I forgive her. Dunno yet. But I thought it was brave of her to call me back twice to say she was sorry. You get points for being brave in this life.

And because…I know what it’s like to wanna be forgiven for the stupid mistakes we make. For the awful, awful things we say and do to one another.

Man, I know that oh so well.

Location: my office
Mood: exhausted
Music: so much wasted and this moment keeps slipping away

Categories
personal

No troubles

Met a girlie last week.

Her: I think I have you beat.
Me: I doubt that.
Her: (deep breath) Well, when I was in high school, my prom date raped me, got me pregnant, and, causa my dad, I got married causa it. Then I had a miscarriage so I was a divorcee before I went to college. He divorced me – can you believe that? Moved here, became a model. Now I throw up at least once a day so I can pay my rent and I hate, hate, hate men of every type. Can you beat that?
Me: (shaking head, pause, lean in and give her a kiss on the cheek)
Her: Why did you do that?
Me: I dunno…thought you deserved it. (she laughed, then frowned and nodded)

Didn’t give her my number or ask for her’s, and paid for her drink, which I never do.

There’s this comedian that says that children are a man’s receipt; children are the canceled check that proves that we were here.

The stuff you hear about happening in China is horrifying, isn’t it? 22,000 to 50,000 dead with 169,000 injured. But it’s actually even worse than that. With the PRC’s One Child Policy, bloodlines and family lose everything. For those that lose their one child and they’re too old to have kids again, they’ve no safety net to take care of them in their old age. Their history ends with them; they’ve no connection to the future. They’ve no child to love. Can’t imagine how that must feel.

My father once said that he loved us all before we were born. That didn’t make sense back then.

I’m getting sued (again). I’m working 12 hour days for negative returns. There’s stuff I don’t tell you about. But really, I got no problems. I got my life, my family, my rum, and the occasional girlie for company.

It’s raining here, but in my head, there’re blue skies. Told you before, yeah? God gave me everything.

Hope you have an amazing weekend.

Location: in my office, looking at the rain and thinking
Mood: grateful
Music: Won’t you miss me?

Categories
personal

E pur si muove

Location: getting up to go
Mood: honest
Music: io lo so che non sono solo anche quando sono solo

I suspect that this weekend will be quite different from last weekend.

The legend goes that Galileo Galilei was arrested in 1633 for going against church doctrine that the earth does not move and, instead, everything revolves around it. He recanted his beliefs rather than face the Inquisition but as he was being led out of the courtroom, he muttered, E pur si muove – and yet it moves.

What he was saying was that the truth is the truth regardless of what else one says. It’s action, the motion, that matters.

Could try’n explain why I do what I do but it’d just be hot breath and lies.

Ah, there it is: The lies we tell ourselves.

Tonight I was honest, I mean really honest, with the Hazel-Eyed Italian and where I was. And hate myself for it. And tonight I was also honest, really honest, with myself about SX. And hate myself more for it.

Well look at that, I’m completely single again. Isn’t that convenient?

As luck would have it, it’s the weekend. Even luckier, I clean up real nice, have far too little shame and far too much rum.

But one more bit of honesty between you and me, just because it’s late. And I’m tired and introspective.

I hide my ugly well.

So well, in fact, that when I smile, you only see the whiteness of my teeth and never the sharpness.

And yet it moves.

Categories
personal

Uncool me

A few weeks back:

Her: Wait, you only have one bowl?
Me: (shrugging) I only have one me.

I don’t have an iPod – don’t have an “i” anything, in fact. Someday maybe, not now.

Almost all my music, DVDs, books, papers, works, I’ve digitized and put into a computer I built myself. I watch it all through either a TV I bought seven years ago or a projector I use for business.

Got a lotta Valentino shirts and about eight custom-made suits but I bought ’em all at least a decade ago when I was young and stupid. Tee-shirts and Levi jeans for me.

Drama notwithstanding, I spend coin on:

I’m lucky because I’ve never been cool and I’m WAY too old to start now. Plus, I have zero need to impress anyone.

Where do you think the happiest place on earth is? It’s here. Not what you expect, huh? Happiness comes from community and purpose. Stuff cannot make you happy. Don’t be fooled by ad execs (I was one) – there’s no pill, shirt, shoes, phone, that will make you happy.

Working jobs you hate, to buy crap you don’t need, to impress those you don’t know – that’s just !#@$ nuts.

Connecting, man, that’s where it’s at. Ah, but there’s the rub. Another person cannot make you happy. But losing them can make you all sortsa bent outta shape.

Connecting. It’s harder than one might imagine:

Her: Can you not call me?
Me: Tonight or ever?
Her: (pause) Ever. ()
Me: (pause) Well…that sounds about right. (sighing, putting down phone and turning to fish) Yes George, I know it’s nonea my business. But still…

Location: my blue couch
Mood: throughly confused
Music: I think she’s leaving Ooh man she’s leaving