Tag: discussion

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personal

Useless / Outta time

I feel so useless these days

Sorry, those of you that read me know I’m pretty regular about my postings but this week’s been…hard. Don’t think I had one sober night this week. Heartgirl took me to a fine restaurant, PCD took me out and made me carrot cake, and BEG rang me. They’re all such good people. It’s funny who contacts you and who doesn’t. Slept about four hours a night.

Told you before that A man’s dying is more the survivors’ affair than his own.

I think I’m fairly quick-witted. Rain’s faster on the draw but I hold my own. S’what happens when you read as much as a nerd like me. But I dunno what to say to my own mother. Isn’t that a kick in the head?

Sucks when you realize a particular talent you have’s only good for entertainment purposes.

The irony of this whole thing is that my mom just came back from Taiwan two days before my grandma died. Now she’s gotta go back.

Her: I didn’t know she was gonna go. (pause) I woulda stayed if I knew.
Me: One of us (kids) should go back with you.
Her: No, it’s useless. She’s gone. You called her all the time. That meant a lot to her. (pause) You’re a good kid.

She doesn’t know that I stopped calling her after the theft cause I didn’t want her to worry. Stupid. I thought we had time. Goddamit, I thought I had time. No one told me we were outta time.

Gonna add that to my list of ten thousand regrets.

Gonna need more damn paper.

Location: my office, beat tired
Mood: beat tired
Music: you wake up in it One fine day

Categories
dating personal

All good things come to an end

 

Him: What’s the point of dating her if it’s not going anywhere?
Me: All relationships end. Some just end sooner than others.

Anthropologist Ernest Becker once said that Everything that man does in his symbolic world is an attempt to deny and overcome his grotesque fate.

All relationships end. And all relationships that matter end in tears. It’s just the way it goes. There’s nothing you adore now, that you can hold now, that you won’t lose at some point down the line. Either because it goes – or you go. It’s all ashes and dust and there’s not a goddamn thing you can do about it.

And it doesn’t matter how you go, yeah? Someone’ll wish you didn’t.

Writers try and cheat the end we know is coming. It’s our sad way of staying longer than we should. Because I’ve tricked you, you see. I’ve made you think of me.

My grandmother passed away. I’m heartbroken.

Please don’t say, I’m sorry. Tell me something funny or interesting. Cause I gotta go home and dunno what to say to my mom.

I’m a crap writer. I’ve run outta words.

Location: my office
Mood: heartbroken
Music: the sun was wondering if it should stay away for a day til the feeling went away

Categories
personal

You are a soul

You can’t sell your soul, you are a soul

Me: I’m sorry, come again? How old’re you?
Her: 18.
Me: (turning to WM) Yeah, I’m leaving.

Spent Friday out with Gio and WM around the UES. Not my scene.

Saturday morning, spoke with Heartgirl; that’s a post for some other time. Saturday night, saw PCD. She did NOT heed my advice and was hung over so we spent a very nice quiet night in the UWS.

Unfortunately, while writing this, I just found out that my grandma’s in the hospital. Was supposed to see her when that woman stole all my money.

You know when someone talks about selling your soul, or whatnot? That irritates me. Cause you’re not a body with a soul. You are a soul. You just happen to have a body.

My grandmother is no dainty grandma; she’s tougher than DeNiro and smokes more than he does.

But her body is betraying her and there’s nuthin I can do about it. She gave me my eyes.

I wanna hit something.

Location: in front of three computers
Mood: worried
Music: No need to say goodbye You’ll come back
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personal

Blessed are the forgetful

Her: I forget a lot of things.
Me: I envy you. Nietzsche once said, “Blessed are the forgetful, for they get the better even of their blunders.” I never forget anything.  But I’m working on that.
Her: I’d never want to remember everything. That’d be terrible.
Me: (nodding) It’s why I’m an insomniac.

Caligirl’s getting married.

For my longtime readers, she was also the girl in this entry. She’s everything I’m looking for in a girlie. Yet I don’t love her. Least, not in the way she wants. Dunno why that is, but that’s as it is.

As a kid, I remember reading about Soma in A Brave New World and wondering why anyone would wanna forget stuff. Not a kid anymore. There’s no Soma in NYC. There’s no River Lethe. That part I knew. But I’m also finding that there’s no SING. No girl on the east side missing a heart.

There are, however, any number of fine (and not so fine) drinking establishments in the big city where they’ll serve me my favorite poison on the rocks with a big slice of orange for $14 a glass.

I know cause I went to two of them Wednesday and Thursday nights with any number of girlies, some very random, some very specific. The weekend forecast looks similar. They’ll have to do.

Suspect I’m not invited to the wedding.

I’m an insomniac cause I lie awake remembering. I’m so talented at it that I even remember things that never happened, people that never existed.

Location: 10:00-14:00 yest, all over Manhattan
Mood: calm
Music: Why so scared of romance?

Categories
personal

A Tale of Two Conversations

Me: You ever read Tale of Two Cities? Charles and Sydney look alike and both love Lucie. But Lucie loves Sydney. Sydney’s arrested and about to be killed when Charles appears and takes Sydney’s place. So Charles asks, why would you do that for me? And Sydney goes, I’m not doing it for you; I’m doing it for her.
Him: If I break up with her, it’ll kill her.
Me: If you marry her cause you feel obligated to – that’d kill her. (pause) If you really do care about her, cut her loose. Then again, what do I know? Sometimes, you do the right thing and you hate yourself. Sometimes, you do the wrong thing and you hate yourself. After a while, you just get used to hating yourself. Hence, rum.

Caligirl: But I realize that there is something we have in common.
Me: And that is?
Her: (softly) Don’t you see it? I’m seeing someone else. PCD’s seeing other people, BEG’s seeing someone, the accountant never wants to get married and Heartgirl’s unavailable. You like the ladies you can’t have. Cause it saves you from the messy things. From having to look someone in the eye and telling them that you’re not the guy. (contemptuously) You’re such a sad and pathetic person, Logan.
Me: (pause) You’re in rare form today.
Her: I try, Logan. (pause) I saw that pretty blond at your birthday party and I knew you’d ____ it up. Just like you always do. You’re terrible at your two rules. What are you looking for?
Me: Something I can’t put into words. What you’re saying, has the ring of truth, but isn’t true at all.
Her: I wonder if you really believe all the crap you say. (pause) I hope you get your heart broken. Into a million little _____ pieces. Put this conversation in your sad little blog.
Me: I’ll take that under advisement.

Funny thing is, sometimes you forget why, exactly, you hate yourself but you get so used it to doing it that you keep doing it.

Location: 22:00 yest, parrying a dagger in the UWS
Mood: pensive
Music: A little less conversation, a little more action please

Categories
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

Categories
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