Thursday, August 28, 2008
We all do. Sitting at a bar tonight with folks who have the ability to separate their lives from what they do - it is amazing - I know nothing of their families, of their trials, of the way the perceive the rest of the world, all I know is that their starched stiff shirts still are brisk and confining, and they giggle with the complacency that has made them what they are, and they still protect and gaurd their egos agianst the few things that someone, anyone, might feel for them. I see it in their faces, it resonates in their words, it clings to the smell of them - that they need to be accepted in the club - and their individuality is a function of what they are supposed to be. I would like to be able to remain silent, and sell that part of me, but I cannot. I will not. I give them me, in return, I get to see them be a success, and I, well I am what I am, and get to chalk up my honesty and ability to swim through the matrix as a a selling point for the next group of innocents that may or may not walk through the door. Ambassador, sure, Naysayer, sure, Fortune Teller, sure...
Blogs are not supposed to be about what I am - or what few simple rights we may think we possess - I have no rights. I have to remain silent, I have to be able to take what I get, and I have to accept what is offered - in my life - which (if you read or listen) is not about taking what I can get, it is about giving until I can't give - I want nothing more than to be taken for everything and be able to sleep at night knowing that I am next to someone who loves Me. I want to give until that person realizes that they are the one that maybe I should have worked harder for, told the truths to more, and sacrificed more for - I have a wife and children - just like the plan said I was supposed to have - someone forgot to tell me that the plan, well, much like a budget, it is just a plan - and there are failures and successes, and you have to live with them, grow with them, and move on with or without them.
Love is a futile emotion that is based somewhere in the reality that no one or someone does not have to return it - I will love people until it hurts or it pays off - sort of like that nickel slot machine that you sit at for hours on end, it will pay off - it will, eventually...
I have the right - and I do, love. I do not have the right to ruin her world, or to pressure her into ruining that world. I have the right to cherish what little bit is left - of time - and have the right to hold the rest of the feelings in here, in me, and one day, maybe I will have the right to wake up next to her, and not worry about the world around me or her, and just worry about whether the kids get sugar free pancake syrup or get to do what the rest of us do - and taste the sugary sticky sweet maple that makes Saturday mornings worth while.
Most of all, I have the right to love - and I am exercising that right - but sometimes, just every once in a while, that vote is not the one that counts -
I love, and I have the right to do so.
There is no next time - I think I am closing this blog, it has gotten to be a part of me, and if I am going to go through separation - maybe, now is the time to get back to the normal things in life- suck it up, I made a choice, and now live with it - I appreciate the folks who read it, but in all reality, the rest of the world will still go on - there will still be tennis matches I have to enjoy and halibut fishing the rest of us have to enjoy and I and we play second fiddle to those bluegrass tunes - maybe the next blog will be called Kitchen Floors - I don't want to travel anymore- I want kitchen floors with checkerboarded linoleum and bright letters on the fridge -
Too much about the right to have - goodnight all, I have the right to remain silent, but I know that silence is not going to solve anything...
A Demain Mon Ami - I love you.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Friday, August 15, 2008
Angry is an understatement. Sell out - sure, I sold my soul to the devil for a few sheckles, went to the school I was supposed to attend, did what I was supposed to do...what do I get in return, but several other folks who did the same thing, competing for the same spot in hell that we all run around in.
I figured out what and who betrayed me - Angry old men betrayed me - they were bitter, devious, cunning, and smart about it - me, in my youthful exuberance, trusted and gave, and in return, was made a laughing stock. For me, maybe the last straw. No, I am too good of a camel for that - hell, let's bring another round of beer, and have another song. How much can that camel carry...
I miss things. I miss the life of secrecy and hidden vibrance that we have. I hate phone calls and distance and not being the one to say that things are okay when I grasp shoulders and feel tears. I don't like having friends three thousand five hundred miles away - they might as well be a million miles away on some star - especially when you wake up, and don't feel or hear anything. People wonder why I go to sleep with the television on its highest volume setting - because empty sound and the hum of another hotel room air conditioner is just not quite the same as a laugh or a snore, or even a push. Pillows make great bedfellows, but not good companions - they don't talk to you or read, or wear thick glasses and want to share your late night Chinese food with you - pillows just get smushed and when you wake up next to one, there are no kisses or hellos or sets of big beautiful eyes staring back at you letting you know that it was just a nightmare, and that they are here, and that you can breathe again...breathe again, slowly drifting off to sleep.
I miss things more than I ever expected to. Giving that much in so short period is not fun nor fair - but it was given, sort of like those overpriced tickets you give to the carnie at the fair - the ride was the best creaky, scary, risky thing you have ever done - but you can't afford to do it again, and the weakness in your knees and the sickness that comes and goes probably is a good sign that you should not....but you do.
Giving things away, particularly when you give away a piece of yourself, and you don't do it to sell your soul, you don't do it to get something in return, you do it because that was what the right thing to do was - and then paying the price of having to lose the ability to give - well, that is what is making me more bitter than anything. My decisions are making me angry, and sit here in this hotel, this shoebox for smelly business men, this trap, and think.
I miss things. I want to walk into and see rythm and ride elevators all day long, and walk to the coffee shop, and tell people to fuck off, that I did not sell out for less, I gave in to my Rythm.
Good night mon ami
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Thursday, August 7, 2008
We'll get to the over magnified picture in a few paragraphs, but you know when you have that awful yicky feeling that you are going to get fired? That's what I have - in fact, I have had it for months now - maybe it is just my gut telling me that I could get fired, and then my family could use that custom fitted mosquito net that fits PERFECTLY on the back of a Dodge Grand Caravan, and turns an otherwise common and generally accepted minivan into a popup trailer...let's see - after the foreclosure, I could afford to live in the K Campground south of Palatka for ($17 per night, 50K in savings - hell that's a fuckload of nights) - my paranoia sometimes is just ridiculous, but this week has been bad - it is a mix of "Am I an Idiot" coupled with "Who is listening" followed by "Did I feed the cats?" (The cats thing is just something that popped into my head, but it does give you some indication of what I think on any given occassion. Just so everyone knows - it would not surprise me if I lose my job - I am a royal pain in the ass, I probably call too much, communicate too much, point out too many issues, fix too many problems, and essentially believe the best way to win the game is to change the game - that is not necessarily what a midwestern engineering firm is looking for. I think they prefer process, provenance, prudence, and purity. Those 4 P's - well they don't really fit my style. The only P that really fits my style is Pugilist...
Okay - so now that I have gotten that off of my chest, I have been thinking about this blog for three or four or five days now - I mean, not just passing thoughts, or those thoughts that you have when you are standing on an elevator or passing someone in traffic - these have been (somewhat scary) constant thoughts about kisses. Yup, kisses. I almost feel as if I have hit the edge of the sanity cliff with those thoughts - and you know what, I rationalize that it is okay to think about those kisses - when I am running, right before I fall asleep, when I am working, when I am on a conference call, I am possessed like some B Movie teenage star with kisses. I guess I should go into why - but first, I digress.
There, done digressing - (that was what I like to call a silent digression, I was actually taking a few minutes to just think about kisses, so there, now you know that without medication, I will have a problem getting rid of this whole kissing fixation) anyway Jonathan Swift (who some think was actually Shakespeare) said:
"Lord! I wonder what fool it was that first invented kissing."
I could not disagree with him more - it is the fool who refuses to kiss that pays the highest price - hell - it's only a kiss, right?
I love those kisses, the ones you steal away after a few beers, the ones you wake up to, the quick tight lipped kisses around the corner, the soft long wet kisses that leave a coolness on your cheek, the kisses that are on stomachs and legs and hands and feet, the kisses that are right in the foldy part of the arm, the kisses that push hard on the shoulder blade and soft on the neck, the kisses that suck in skin, the kisses that push hard, the kisses that have teeth involved, the kisses that don't end, the kisses that are half asleep and lazy, and the fast fun loud music grabs, the kisses with mouths full of a new food or flavor, the kisses that are wine laced, the kisses that are not fair, the kisses that are giving, the kisses that say I love you, and finally the kisses that say I want you.
I love kisses. I can't stop thinking about stupid kisses, and boy howdy, I need one now - no matter what kind it is.