Something new pt. 2

John woke up at 7:00 AM when Judy dropped a pot in the kitchen loudly. Twenty seconds later he got a text message. "FUCK!!! SRY DUDE, BROKE YR POT. I'LL GET NEW 1 WHEN I GET PAID. U UP?"

John didn't process any of this. He looked at his Windows Media Player. Swirls, lines, spinning dots, music. He texted back "no i'm dedddddddddd".

John heard a laugh from Judy. It was just one laugh, like "ha." She texted him back, "GET UP. LET'S GO EAT"

John was already up. He thought about checking his e-mail. No, don't. It'll be there when I get back. It will be there forever. E-mail doesn't have an expiration date like milk. John opened his internet explorer and as it loaded he went downstairs. He didn't get dressed because he was still wearing shorts from last night.

"Judy, I'm tired. You drive."

Judy looked at John's bare chest. "Put a shirt on."

John found a shirt by the washer and dryer down the hall. It was Judy's Bad Religion t-shirt. He put it on.

"Fuck that, man. Don't you have your own clothes?"

John didn't say anything. Judy already walked out the door. John slipped on some flip-flops before drifting toward Judy's car.

"How tall are you?" John said in a flat-tone.

Judy looked at John. "Six-eight."

"Me too. Let's play beach volleyball together. We'll win everything. Plus I'll get to stare at your ass for like half the game. Sweet."

"I get the losing end of that deal. I have to look at your ass half the time."

John looked at Judy. She seemed amused he thought. Half her mouth was smiling half-way.

"Hey, if we have kids they'll be like eight feet tall. We'll have to have a special house and special beds and special sinks and special bathrooms."

"Yeah, we'll have to replace our chairs with thrones. We'll have to get booster seats for our booster seats."

Judy played with her hair as she drove. John watched her fingers swirl through her hair. It made him feel vaguely sad.

Judy parked the car at the diner. They walked in and sat at their corner table like always. John got biscuits and gravy like always. Judy always got one of two things - cereal or oatmeal. John always made fun of whatever she got.

"I'd like oatmeal" Judy tells the waitress.

"You know what would be sweet? On Halloween I could dress-up like a penis and throw water balloons filled with oatmeal at people."

"So what is your costume going to be?" Judy was a master at saying everything with a flat affect.

"I thought I'd go as a J. Crew model and wear a turtleneck. You know, I'll need some protection from the cold."

"...and the rest of humanity." Judy sipped her coffee and stared off at the neon "open" sign.

The waitress brought the food. John dumped hot sauce all over his biscuits.

"Judy, can we be serious for a second? Who were you talking to last night?" John took a big sloppy bite and spilled gravy on his shorts. Judy grimaced and eyeballed her shirt.

"Some guy I met at a show. He was auctioning off his artwork to help pay for school. It is great stuff." Judy allowed herself to smile as she said this.

"So... how did my height get brought into this conversation?" John said while precariously waving a fork-full of biscuits near his face.

"Oh, it wasn't. I was just curious."

John thought about this and tried not to frown. "How many balloons do you think we could fill with your oatmeal?"

"Let me see your hand."

John held out his hand. Judy stabbed it with a fork.

"Is this a metaphor? Maybe four balloons for the four holes you poked in my hand?" John tried to act calm and cool and forget the pain welling in his hand. She didn't break the skin, but it will probably leave a bruise or some mark. It would probably be the most memorable part of his day, and he'll want to tell everyone at work about it.

"Give me your other hand."

"My other hand is feeling shy right now."

They ate in silence for a while.

"Judy, what do you think? Is it going to get serious with this art guy?" John didn't know what he wanted her to say or how he'd feel based on what she'd say. In fact, John hadn't thought of asking the question until it was coming out of his mouth.

Judy looked at John and then her oatmeal. "I don't know. He recently broke up with a long-term girlfriend. Maybe I'll be the rebound before he finds that girl that reminds him of everything his misses from his ex, other than the stuff he hated." She swirled her coffee around.

"See, that's the problem these days. People want to live in stories, they want to live on reality television, they think there is some sort of happy ending waiting for them - you know, like when they get the new car when they finish the last mission on Road Rules. But there isn't a new car. At least, I'm pretty sure that I'm not a new car." John had an uncontrollable urge to check his e-mail, but he somehow managed to take a bite of his biscuits and gravy instead.

Judy looked down again. "No, John. No you aren't."

Short Meditation on "Unrequited Love" pt. 4

It is impossible to broach the subject of unrequited love without discussing guilt. Unrequited love situations are, by definition, dysfunctional. But what makes them dysfunctional? Is it the person who does not return the love? Is it the person who expects or desires love to be returned? Is it the person or situation that is in the way of this love?

Guilt is a weapon of manipulation. It is a bit much to assume that most people want to be "good people." It is a completely different issue to assume that people don't want to be seen as "bad people" by others. Guilt is a function of perception.

The truth is that we are all guilty. We are guilty for our thoughts. We are guilty for our actions. We are guilty for our lack of actions. We are guilty for what others may or may not think of us regardless of we are trying or not trying to do.

Guilt is not an objective fact, beyond the understanding that we are guilty for everything we do. Once this is understood, guilt no longer matters. All that matters is understanding yourself: your limits, your self-judgments, and your willingness to face yourself with open, clear eyes.

The truth is that we choose everything for ourselves, including our problems. Any unrequited love situation is also a choice of everyone involved.

Short Meditation on "Unrequited Love" pt. 3

Courtly love was considered one of the highest forms of love several hundred years ago. Men (almost uniformly) were to fall in love with women from afar, and then nobly internalize these feelings, agonize, and write poetry. This works because having a desire that you know cannot be obtained held out before you creates an emotional frenzy which is ideal for creativity. Stress, pain, and anxiety are great motivators for artists.

I learned about courtly love in high school somewhere between reading Sir Gawan and the Green Night and the Knight's Tale in The Canterbury Tales. I realized I was prone to courtly love. What I mean is, I wrote nearly 100 pages of poetry about a girl that I somewhat knew, that went to a school in another county. I felt alive then. I felt hopeless and out-of-control and stayed up until 4:00 AM frequently. If at any point I had "got the girl" this orgiastic mess of creativity would probably collapse and my productivity and development would have gone out the window.

I realized what I was doing. I knew it was probably unhealthy. Teenagers are supposed to go out and have girlfriends. They're supposed to "do things." I did things, but rarely with girls I was actually attracted to, and even then it was always tame. The raging feelings in my chest were intoxicating. When things didn't go my way, the better. My nightmares about looking for the women I desired and not finding them, or finding them casting away my attention ignited me. Once I dreamt I finally found her, and she turned toward me with a sign that simply said "NO." I woke up in a cold sweat. Exhilarating.

At some point it had to end. I told her how I felt. She rejected me awkwardly. Nothing made any sense. She seemed to give me a lot more attention. Lots of hugs. Something was broken in her. She gave hints. This was also intoxicating. It was a mystery. She was sharing. It was one-way. Nothing came from me and went to her. At least not reflected back. This is the nature of unrequited love.

We're looking for connection, always. "Unrequited love" can provide a conduit toward a connection for yourself, but it becomes tedious and eventually you see what kind of fraud you are. It was at this point, after cutting off communication with this girl that I realized that I needed to change a lot of things. Since then I have not experienced "unrequited love." Nor have I quite felt that intoxication.

I am looking for a balance. I want to feel a little out of control with my emotions. I want to be inspired to stay up way too late. I want to send stupid e-mails that are endearing. But I also want to have conversations where I feel that I am understood. I want the world to melt away and lava to shoot up through the cracks in the asphalt causing great heat and blurred vision. I want to blink my eyes and feel fear and yet certainty about the intensity of the connection I am creating and I want that to help fuel me creatively. I want my other emotions of alienation, loneliness, and angst toward absurdity and the corruption of meaning to be embraced, harnessed, and expanded upon. I want strange novel moments of ennui followed by delicious burritos.

Is that too much to ask for?

Short Meditation on "Unrequited Love" pt. 2

Ok, so there's the scenario (you've seen this in movies, and read it in books, and saw it on Dr. Phil or Jerry Springer or something) where there are two people totally in love, but somehow one or both of them married or are in committed relationships with someone else. OMG.

Right, so they can't "requite" the love because it is against the rules. But you know how humans are, sometimes they break the rules. And then ruin their lives. In other cases, like in Lost in Translation, they go back to their lives but it is an emotional letdown.

In these sorts of stories where the "heroes" end up doing the noble thing and it sucks, I notice that the main characters are almost always stuck in relationships with people that are unpleasurable to be around. This happens because people really want to feel loved or just secure. Of course, people make sacrifices to get this and then afterwards find out that they could have done a lot better. Or sometimes, you end up with someone who changes for the worst as time goes on. That's bad, because as time goes on you're supposed to learn how to handle life better, not worse. Some people don't work that way though.

Another example of this problem is when for some reason you aren't supposed to be with the other person. Maybe it is the early 1900s and you're white and the other person is black. Maybe you're both gay, but are trying to live "normal" lives. Maybe you met someone on vacation and then had to go back to 3000 miles away. There are lots of reasons.

Nowadays we have instant messagers, e-mail, cell phones, and other ways to keep in touch with these people. That can make unrequited love stories more painful though. Also, they can be comical, because once you end up with the person you've been talking with on the computer for so long you might not realize how different they actually are when they're right next to you with real mouths and real bad breath and real selfish issues about spending a lot of your money on clothes, sushi, and gym fees to a gym that you never go to. Or what if the sex is just a major letdown!

I think it would make sense if the rest of my life were a comedy based on these sorts of problems. It wouldn't be until I'm old that I'd realize this was all a joke. Then a genie would surprise me, maybe when I was screwing around with my Tibetan singing bowl and say "Surprise, I'm a genie that hides in a Tibetan singing bowl instead of a lamp. I'm not giving you any wishes that you get to choose. You're just going back in time to your 20s and you'll met the woman you were supposed to fall in love with and get married to and you'll live your life the way you were supposed to instead of this mildly depressing comedy." I would say "thank you" but I'd feel a little cheated. I'd want my normal three wishes so that I could be rich, so I could fly, and to live forever. Of course, these wishes would ultimately make me feel miserable because those kinds of wishes backfire. This is how it works though.

Short Meditation on "Unrequited Love" pt. 1

Unrequited love is a dumb idea. Either you are loved reciprocally, or you are not. When you are not, how can you continue to feel love toward that which does not love back? Unrequited love implies spending a lot of time on this. I can understand in brief episodes having feelings (we'll call them "love") that are not returned reciprocally.

I think people that experience "unrequited love" don't want to actually be loved. Loving in an unrequited manner takes away your responsibility to be a decent, lovable human being. It is easier that way, but then your life isn't really based on anything. If that's OK with you.

I am bad at keeping my plants alive. But I'm doing better. I'm also mowing the lawn more regularly and it looks better than last year. I am shaving more often, also.

I think it might be kind of neat to fall in love, but I'm not sure if I can do that because of the increasing populations of raging hordes of robots on reality television. I mean, how can you know? Really.

Of course

The national spelling bee was won with the word "laodicean" which means "lukewarm or indifferent in religion or politics." Why didn't I know this word?

trans-movement

1. move your feet to the rhythm

move your feet to the
rhythm
move your
rhythm
feet to the
to the
your feet
rhythm

move

2. another kind of movement

Peter Pan with a beard
foldable walker
arthritis

cashing in on Social Security

Fairy Godmother with botox
Lasik eye surgery
all kinds of creams

just accidentally wished herself
into a fetus

singing mice just do
Motown covers now

Snow White woke up
terrified thinking
"was I date raped?"

3. human to robot movement

we shouldn't be afraid of robots anymore
I just happened to see Real World/Road Rules Challenge last night

after being on reality television for well over a decade
you become a different sort of robot

Orwell didn't know about this
when he wrote 1984

or he was afraid that Mark
would go back in time
and rape him
so he left that part out

we'll never know

4. robot to human movement

I observed Soulja Boy's dance craze
without ever investing myself
to judge it

I watched sports teams doing the dance
on ESPN

I watched people do the dance
on date time talk shows

I watched people do the dance
on youtube clips
shown on CNN

I saw Akon simulate sex
with an under-aged girl
as part of a "dance contest"

she was scared
she won

These people from "Real World" or "Road Rules" that have been on MTV periodically for nearly two full decades are no longer anything remotely human.

Wild Humans and Socrates

I told a student the famous quote from Socrates, "The unexamined life is not worth living." He interpreted this to mean, at first, "The life unexamined by others is not worth living." I thought this disembodied understanding of a quote that I assumed to be simple was strange and delightfully exhilirating. And if it were true!

I've had fantasies while walking through dense forests in remote areas of running into a wild human. A human that had no family, no language, and no reason to believe that anyone else existed outside of himself. He would spot me first, because wild humans are more in tune with their senses. And, I think, despite having no language he would immediately understand that I was like him in a way.

This reminds me also of how picked up my dog after doing yard work, and put a tarp down in the backyard and put fire wood on it. When running outside as he always does at night before bed, he was flabbergasted at how his world had changed unexpectedly. He barked a warning and growled while pacing around the tarp with his tail down and his hackles raised. Are we to say that he is not a smart animal? Certainly not.

At times, I have come to the conclusion that the lives of certain other people aren't worth living. My job is not to convince them to stop living it, or to put them out of their misery. But it raises many questions when you look in the face of another without any concept of why this person lives. Of course, I can not even remember a time in my life when I wasn't asking myself questions about why I lived and what I lived for. Of course, this is all absurd anyway. But the absurd needs a reason why too, even if it is an absurd reason.

I digress.

I have never met a wild human. I am not sure that I would like to meet one. It would ruin his world, I think.

"Oh."

Is community the same thing as the elephant chorus singing in perfect four-part harmony (all four parts in falsetto) in my head?

"Oh."

She used to say that when I said anything that mattered to me. "Oh."

It reminds you that nothing matters and that we're all going to die alone in elephant graves that aren't really elephant graves but are just mounds and valleys in indeterminable spaces on "Earth." That's an exaggeration, because you have to exaggerate things like that to feel calm and submissive because you actually don't have that much control and you know it. Or you're MacBeth, but I think he knew it and just didn't want to believe it.

Buying a new shirt is a really intense spiritual experience. Also hats.

I try to explain to people that spirituality isn't religion and that faith is also different.

Actually, it is a six act play and the sixth act is super-secret and only gods and ghosts know about it. In the sixth act Apollo killed Dionysus with the Sun and the planet has been dying since then, but also the sun is blinding everything and existence is the metaphor and the veil is reality. Maybe a double metaphor, and maybe a double or triple veil.

"Oh."

People think that God created the world with his voice. The word of God. Words are the most powerful things, more than weight-lifter weights and anvils and pianos.

I started this whole thing out by asking about community, because the veils make it hard to know. It seems like music probably would be involved, like a faint echo of Dionysus's last breath drifting out forever.

Something new

"I'm not politically apathetic! My lack of interest, participation, and education is a form of political activism."

Justin growled and punched John in the shoulder - hard. He stared at John.

"Well I buy things, that counts, right?"

Justin drove his car off a cliff and his last words were "Fuck you, motherfucker!"

"No, that doesn't count."

As they pulled up to the house John started singing "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" in falsetto. Justin frowned and danced along, kicking the bushes with his boots on the way to the door.

"Mom!" John's voice cracked, "Let us in!"

The door opened slowly. Judy laughed sarcastically. "You guys are too old to get away with that."

John turned and stared at Justin. With eyes locked they both started singing "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" and started dancing. Judy closed the door. Justin shrugged. They ran around to the back door and walked in.

Justin went in first. "Hey, have you noticed that like every movie and TV show has time travel in it? What's up with that?"

Judy yelled from the living room. “Mom called. She changed her mind about the whole birth thing. I guess you’re aborted.”

“That sucks, I was going to make spaghetti.”

Justin disappeared and John was left standing alone in the kitchen with a grocery bag filled with noodles, tomato sauce, ground beef, garlic, and Twizzlers.

“Hey Judy, who all is supposed to be here tonight? I’m going to start making the spaghetti.”

“Just me and you. I guess Mary and her boyfriend went to a concert up in Seattle.”

John made the spaghetti with a zen-like focus while repeating the chorus to “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” over and over in his head. He allowed the song to repeat without judgment despite never really liking the song. It was natural, like breathing.

“Smells good” Judy yelled at some point.

“That’s what she said.” John yelled back without thinking. Then he thought about it. It didn’t quite work, but it was close enough. Maybe it was funnier that way.

Earlier in the day, John had been sitting in a call center telling cell phone customers why their bills were so high. His job was to get yelled at indiscriminately. At first, it bothered him, but now he does it without issue. He imagines each person as a disembodied head rolling down a steep hill after getting struck by the guillotine. They are able to talk to him via Bluetooth.

John and Judy ate in separate rooms. Judy ate in the living room and continued to watch something on TV. John went upstairs to his bedroom. He has lived there for three years. He placed his food on the bed and turned on his computer. He spent the rest of the evening on his computer and ate only half his dinner because he was too busy instant messaging people he didn’t really know and reading message boards.

He thought about putting his plate on the floor instead of bringing it downstairs, but the smell was just too much. Judy was still on the couch and she was texting someone on her phone.

“Hey, John, how tall are you?”

John automatically replied “Six-foot-eight.”

“No, I mean really, not in alternate universe basketball land.” She continued typing into her phone without ever making eye contact.

“Oh. I’m five-ten.” John walked into the kitchen and dropped his plate into the sink. He turned the water on for a second and pretended to clean it.

Judy didn’t say anything when John went back upstairs.

John put his head against his pillow and stared at his monitor’s swirling psychedelic colors from Windows Media Player. The music was from an internet radio website that he picked randomly. John thought about grade school for no reason and couldn’t sleep. Eventually an image of the Pope flashed in his head and he laughed.

I can honestly tell you that I don't get bored. I like to think of myself as some sort of zen master, but I don't think that's it. If I were a zen master I would go out of my way more to be completely in silence, in some sort of bamboo room maybe, or I'd go out into the wilderness by myself with a canteen of water. I would do that at least once a month, but I'd try to do it every weekend. Sometimes I would even go after work.

Actually, I think I don't get bored because I am overstimulated all of the time. My job feels like getting hit with a strobe light that alternates in colors. Red. Blue. Green. Red. Blue. Green. Red-blue. Green-red. Purple. Whatever. Whenever I'm able to slow everything down I can start making sense of the colors and chart them out on a ven diagram.

Actually, I just work with teenagers that mostly have ADD and ADHD. They gave me ADD as an accidental present. Not really, but it feels like it sometimes.

I get off work and try to make sense of my life. I do this by turning on the radio and forgetting everything that happened for the past 10 hours. Then sometimes I stop at the store on the way home and buy Twizzlers or a Coke. When I do this, I have a fight in my head as to whether it is worth the time to actually pull off the road, find a parking spot, walk into the store, go to the aisle that has what I want, grab the item, go to the checkout stand, get out my wallet, and then pay. I don't like the paying part because I'm not friends with cashiers and its their job to ask me if "I found everything all right." They have to do that, because when they look at my blank face I'm sure they don't really think "this guy is missing something and needs my help." I think they just see nothing. Maybe they judge the food I buy. I think about that sometimes, but then I think that these people work in grocery stores and they're usually over-weight and this is their life and they see everybody buy everything and it is all really nihilistic so who gives a shit about any of it all? Really.

So in some way the decision is made while I'm driving, but I don't really know which decision I make most of the time until I find myself turning on my blinker or not turning on my blinker. Once I do that, I'm committed.

I watch the news when I get home, several hours of it usually. Unless a game is on. Then I might watch that, or will certainly watch it if it is my team. I check my email, facebook, and myspace. All I want to know is if anyone had anything to say to me. It takes 2 minutes. Then I'll check news sites and blogs that are critical about the things I am critical about. Sometimes we disagree, but not often. I try to read blogs I always disagree with once in a while, but it isn't usually worth the effort. Their logic and evidence is too easy to puncture holes in so it isn't worth it. That doesn't usually take long either.

Then I do whatever. Play games, play music, write music, listen to music, read, play with my dog, talk to people on AIM or Facebook or even call people once in a while. I can't really say why I choose one or the other, I just do it.

Sometimes when I try to hang out with people I find out that they're going to be really late, and it isn't a big deal for me to just hang out doing nothing except walking around looking at things, or sitting someone looking at things, or just thinking. I read philosophy and a lot of political stuff, and I try to put the ideas together. Or I'll think about my life and analyze it.

I like my job, but I don't think I'm being challenged enough. Sometimes I think about going to Africa, but not to the countries that have a lot of violence. I think I'd like to go somewhere on the African coast along the Mediterranean Sea. I am a desert guy, but I like being by water. I don't like swimming though. I just like the air, and how it looks. How at certain times in the day looking at the water with the sun reflecting on it reminds you of the cold certainty of the world. Not that I think about dying, I think more about how the world is big and time is endless and I just am and it doesn't make any sense but the feel of sun and the wind with the scent of the salt water is good.

I like mountains too, but not as much.

The most beautiful woman in the world works at Olé Olé on 13th and Jefferson. I decided that as I was planning to make my order of a carne asada burrito. She is about 5'8, and had on large earrings and her long hair in a pony tail in back. I don't know if she is Mexican or not, but she has an accent.

I decided she was the most beautiful woman in the world when I looked in her face and saw her intent little eyes and very symmetrical features. Her long, narrow neck emphasized her good posture. She moved efficiently and the entire time I watched her moving around as I ate my burrito I never saw her waste a motion.

I looked at her and it was like "woah". I wasn't expecting it. Why should I need to be expecting it? I don't know. I was just thinking about food.

I decided quickly that she was the most beautiful woman in the world, but as I was watching her I noticed that her hair was cut in a sort of way that indicated that she'd probably have some sort of sideburns if they weren't cut that way. I thought about it as I was watching her, and decided that she could still be the most beautiful woman in the world granted that she took care to not grow out her sideburns. Otherwise, she'd probably still be very attractive but would have weird sideburns.

I probably ought to keep the part to myself about how she is very thin. I mean, it is obvious, but she is. I thought that maybe she was a dancer, because she is fit and well-balanced. I imagined her salsa dancing. I'm not a dancer, but sometimes I think about the idea of myself dancing. It is weird.

I have good rhythm. I could say, "well, most musician's do" but I actually don't think that that's true. Rhythm is a body thing, not a thinking thing. What I am saying is - it isn't math. I have rhythm when I play soccer. Believe it or not, it is almost exactly the same thing.

I decided that I wouldn't bother talking to her. I wasn't going to say "I think you are the most beautiful woman in the world" or "you're the most beautiful woman in the world" or "hey, I know a beautiful woman like you probably has a boyfriend, but I was just wondering..." No, none of that. I don't live there, and plus I haven't shaved in 3 days and I didn't really know what to say after that. "So... do you like existentialism and post-modern angst stemming from an overwhelming sense of alienation from all constructs of meaning? Let's go get ice cream." It didn't seem very culturally sensitive, and I believe in what my friend has always said "don't shit where you eat." That's not literal. It means, don't fuck up in a weird way that makes it too embarrassing to go to where you like to eat.

I watched her waitressing, and I realized that there's something about waitressing. Waitressing well is an art form. It is an art form of nurturing. Taking care of people with ease and grace. It is sexy in a way. I wondered if women felt the same way about waiters.

Even though I decided that I wouldn't talk to her, I kept imagining it. But I never imagined the conversations happening in the restaurant. Sometimes we were outside walking around and then randomly we'd start talking like familiar strangers. Sometimes we'd be at her house and she'd apologize "for the mess" even though her house was ridiculously clean which is also embarrassing. "Oh" I'd say, "What are you talking about? This place is immaculate." And she'd kind of blush, but maybe in a polite way as she quietly tried to determine how dirty I am. Of course, I'd say things to try to make her feel comfortable with me... to understand that my messes are self-contained and not all-encompassing. But it is hard to say any of this convincingly, because you don't want to defend yourself too strongly, it makes you wonder.

At some point in the conversation I get bored with myself and even though I have no expectations I decide I should get home to my dog. So I get up and put plate away and carefully clean my table to make it look as if I never sat there. I leave quietly and start writing this little story in my head as I walk down the street. I kind of wish that I had a pen and paper so I could write it immediately, but as I walk I find myself revising everything several times over. I try to decide what this thing is about, what I want my audience to know or understand. I realize that it doesn't really matter and that the weather is really nice and I'm starting to get thirsty. Eventually, I would need to go get something to drink. But for now, it can wait.