Muppet Bordello

OK, I was listening to Gogol Bordello, and something sounded weird. Not in a bad way, but in a spooky way. And I had felt this way before....

But this time I made the missing, eureka, helium in the airship rather than hydrogen connection I knew was there.

Fozzi Bear is the front man for Gogol Bordello.

Don't believe me?

Fozzie bear (OK, it's a link to a blog, but I couldn't figure how to host the audio directly.. :( )

vs

Eugene Hütz (particularly American Wedding. Trust me... listen. Oh, and buy their stuff. They're really good)

Moving on, moving away

As I write this the legal wrangling seems to be coming to an end. I will at least be (somewhat) rid of the vacuous parasite, along with a good portion of what is mine. A bargain in some ways. I'm sure in the coming months she will wonder why I don't treat her with the respect & support she feels she deserves. I won't try to debate her feelings of self worth. I will instead let her think it is a sense of rejection that I can't get beyond.

Other rejection in life I will continue to have more difficulty with. In part, because of our continued contact. At what price will this come? How much can I press down what I feel without killing it altogether? Will it become nothing more than a burned out hulk of feeling we had for each other? Is it even possible to transmute gold back into lead?

Is it better to just give away the gold?

And so it goes.......

Billy Joel described a room within your heart that serves as a solace, a refuge ('And so it goes' is the name of the song, in case you didn't figure it out from the entry title). This room allows you to recover, and heal wounds.

Now, I'm not a big fan of using song lyrics to learn about life. That being said, I think this song made me realize something about myself.

I don't have that room in my heart. I live with my heart upon my sleeve. No keys, no doors, no rooms. Exposed. Vulnerable. But open. Free.

Capable of loving 100%, since I'm not hiding away that little room. Capable of being crippled as well. Highs and lows, extremes that perhaps I should have learned to avoid. But that type of thinking is what leads people to shut out others, to close themselves in. To isolate themselves.

I refuse to do that. I will lead my life as I have. Open & honestly. I believe in truth. I believe love is worth fighting for. Worth dying for. Worth sacrifice.

So I will base my actions on that standard. I found someone I love. And I left, without realizing the implications. Without all the information. It was my fault as much as anyones. (Yet another learning experience.)

So, unless that person finds love and happiness without me, I will go back to her. (And yes, she asks that I look for my own happiness, which I will seek. Though I doubt anything remotely like it will appear.) I will return, and ask for forgiveness for my mistakes. Offer my love. My life. My hopes.

I know she deserves happiness, even if she sometimes doesn't. I believe she can be happy, even when she doesn't. I only hope I can be part of that happiness.

So, this summer. I will look at where we are. Where she is.

If she is moving toward happiness, I will lick my wounds. I will suffer a not so small death. I will move on. Or try to. I'd be lying if I said I was sure I would succeed.

If not, I will send out applications. I will find a job back on the east coast. I will return to her. And hope I can be what she needs to be happy. And, though I don't believe in God/gods/deity I will pray. I will do whatever I can to be what will make her happy.

Ya tebya liubliu.

The meaning of things

So... do you say a girl is pretty? Beautiful? Cute? Sexy? Can they be more than one? Just what do these things mean, anyway?

It's clearly not just an age thing. We've all seen the beautiful and pretty little girls, as well as the cute ones. I won't touch the sexy topic for now......

Perhaps looking at what else may be described in such terms might help. Buildings. (Insert your own snarky comment about the pressure to be skinny & comparing women to potentially massive structures....)

There are the cute houses. Perhaps a tad more colorful than the neighboring ones, or with unique additions. They have 'personality'. These homes aren't for everyone, but those who enjoy them, think they're the best thing in the world.

Sexy. These are the homes you see in the architecture magazines, or on reruns of Miami Vice (do they even have those??). You wonder how anyone could stand to live there. But they look damn nice. You think you'd like to try living there.... maybe just for a vacation.

Beautiful homes? You know the houses are perfect looking. Perfectly trimmed hedges, the lines of the roof complements the terrain, the drive sweeps into view, rather than jutting out from the street. Wow. You can't imagine living there, since it could only be maintained by a herd of staff. You'd be afraid to scratch the furniture.

Then there are homes that people say are pretty. Perhaps a bit conventional, they're attractive nonetheless. You'd live they're & be happy. You know you can relate to the house, raise children there. They have have touches of cuteness and beauty. As you know more about them, you appreciate them more. And sexy? Well, it all depends on what happens there.


Have I offended all the women out there?

Let's try to bring this back to women, shall we?

We all know cute girls. That particular person may not be what works for me, but I know someone will think they're the greatest thing. Perhaps 'unconventional beauty' could also be used to describe them. They have a personality that is part of their appeal.

Sexy. You do a double take when you see them walk by. Maybe you're the type who's intimidated by them, even as you think 'if only...'. Either way, you don't think they'd have what it takes for a long term relationship. But a vacation.......

Beautiful. The women in the black & white photos in the magazines. You're not sure how old they are, they have a grace that's undeniable. You can't touch that. You love the way they loog, but they're out of your league.. too high maintenance. They must be.

Pretty. These are the girls at work or the bar that you actually see, and have a chance to talk to. They have personality, and quirks. At times a bit high maintenance, other times not so much. And Sexy? Well, it all depends on what they want to do....

So, next time someone say's you're cute, don't take it as a polite way of saying you're not beautiful. You are someones ideal. Maybe they know you're beautiful to someone else.

And if you don't think you're sexy? Maybe it's what you do that matters more than your specific look....

Whining

Loneliness sucks.

Jealousy sucks too.

The two at once? Man, that really sucks.

ok, I'm done being a whiny emo bitch for the moment.

Move along, nothing to see here....

Endurance

What is it we're looking for? What will make us happy? What if we can't reach what will make us happy?

I could bring up Maslow's Hiearchy of Needs. Yes, food & shelter, then sex.. that sort of thing. Someone I'm sure will suggest it's the striving for our goals that is what makes us happy.

That's a load of crap. Ever think a homeless person, striving for food, would say they were happy? That it was ok if s/he went hungry that night (again) because s/he was actively striving for more?

"What the hell are you talking about now?" you might be wondering. Well, the other night I was wandering aimlessly while being pretty angry at the world, and wallowing in self pity. Oh, and drinking fine tequila from a flask in my pocket.

I saw a man, in his mid to late tweenties, letting a girl into his home. This reminded me of what I was missing, of what I wanted. Not sex. Not the warm apartment. Not even a relationship. In a way I want all of those things, or less, or more.

I want the relationship that people see as love, but the couple involved knows goes well beyond. It doesn't even have to be 'traditional'. Let's face it, not coming home to that person every night doesn't mean the love is any less. Distance only seperates bodies, not hearts. I want something that is beyond doubt, beyond questioning. I want a state of grace. That's not asking for too much, is it?

I've had a taste of that. Just a taste, and I lost it. Now, if you're busy scrounging for food and shelter each night, trying to avoid being beaten or having your bag of sparse belongings taken, I can't imagine any way you could meet someone who could provide what I had a taste of. There just doesn't seem to be a chance at that connection.

I guess I'm wondering if we know, or can assume, we'll never achieve the (much) higher 'needs', is it worth even bothering? If each night you're cold & hungry, what is the point? What makes someone go on? Is it perspective? Is it the hierarchy of needs?

Is it really the fact that he's so busy struggling for warmth & such that he doesn't even think about falling in love or being in love? That seems absurd. We all dream of things. He must have free time to think of what 'could be'.

Is it because he never had a taste of what I was referring to? That his perceptions of what love could be like are so different that he doesn't think he's missing much? I guess it's possible. But wouldn't that also imply that his life has been that much emptier?

Is it because some guy supported by other people's donations is wandering around town telling him there's a reward for having a shit life in the 'afterlife'? That suicide is a sin? And he believed it?

Or could he be so beaten down that even if you gave him a place to stay, and catered meals, and a hot shower, he just has lost the ability to have dreams & aspirations? Might he sit there 16 hours a day, alone, and say there isn't anything else he'd want? That those higher needs being met just lead to more complications & suffering then they're worth?

I don't have any idea what enables/makes many people carry on. Hope you weren't looking for great insight on this one.

Divine Inspiration

Do dreams of God provide evidence of his existence?
Are they a revelation of a higher truth?

There are those who say this is so. They may say these dreams provide insight into what may be less clear among the concerns and distractions of the waking world.

I ask, of course, because I just woke from dreaming of God. Not a fatherly figure with a white beard or anything. Not George Burns with a cigar. More a presence.. something off to stage left. I was dreaming of an afterlife more forgiving than Christianity envisions, since I wasn't surrounded by fiery brimstone. In fact, I was with someone I cared for deeply.

There are those who would jump up and say this is heaven. Perhaps it is a vision of heaven. Perhaps then this presence off to stage left was God. Has my dream revealed something to me?

Has my dream revealed that I will be blessed by his presence in the afterlife? That I will come to understand and accept his existence?

Again, many would say this is the truth revealed by my dream. And perhaps this dream has revealed to me the truth of my future. This isn't so hard to accept. The leap of faith to believe in God can/would explain his truth being revealed in dreams as well. The images revealed no clear details that would even prohibit the salvation of those who had yet to believe at their passing. He revealed himself to us on our deaths.

Again, a kinder gentler version compared to Christianity, and most other religions as well.

So, a great truth seems to have been revealed to me, and I guess I should act accordingly. It is truly these simple things that can alter a life forever. To bring new, more profound meaning to it. God truly works in mysterious ways. His truth, revealed in my dream, is profound.

Oh, did I mention I was overthrowing God in this dream?

His will be done. Who am I to argue?

Staccato

A restaurant, a stranger. A kiss on the knuckle, a sharp intake of breath. A tighter grip of the hand asking for more. I had little idea of what was to come.

A motel room, straps hanging from a door. The two of us, exhausted on the bed. Sated.

Another time, a nearby place. My hand falling against her flesh for the first time.

A coffee shop, in the evening. The words I love you fall from my lips, tears from her eyes.

Our rings, given with purpose, with love. Now worn with different purposes. Perhaps different love. But always love.

A small room, furnished. Sufficient for living, but not for life. But I'm with her. For the first time, I am with her without having to go home. I am without a home. But I have her, for a time.

Our kiss. Perhaps our last. Filled with the taste of each other, longing, regret, and memories.

She leaves the coffee shop quickly, seemingly with a purpose. Out into the rain.
She reaches her car and steadies herself with a hand against it. She drops her head. Reconsidering? Trying to remember how to breath? Overwhelmed with grief? Perhaps it was a bit of all of these.

Ya tebya liubliu. Always.

You need chaos in your soul to give birth to a dancing star.
Friedrich Nietzsche