Thursday, August 27, 2020

No Happy Endings

 



I have obsessed over the idea that I write the same song over and over since it first occurred to me. Now, suddenly, I realize that there are only a few stories. The joy is in the variations. 

The stories, I suppose, all begin with some form of, "Once upon a time...".

Eventually boy meets girl. Nobody lives happily ever after. Ever.

With that in mind, I hope you love and sing and dance. I hope you laugh often and cuddle when you can. Enjoy the company of children when you get the opportunity and pet every dog. Read the books that remind you of our connection and watch all the movies make you laugh or cry.

Try not to judge and love with all your might. Your only role in the balance of good and evil is to tip the scale in the right direction.

You're doing fine. Enjoy it all.






Saturday, August 22, 2020

No Glory Days

 



So Mahatma drank urine and slept with nubile, young women. I'm feeling pretty good about myself, here. I didn't sleep with nubile young women when I was young! I certainly never touch the urine. Lips that touch urine will never touch mine.

Oh, I don't mean to judge. Gandhi remains at the tippy top of my list of heroes. It's a long list. It gets longer.

My problem, if I have a problem, is that I don't have glory days. I never sold many records, never made any money. I don't remember ever winning a trophy, and I'm pretty sure that I would be bragging shamelessly about it now if I had. 

I'll tell you this, boys- I've heard the prettiest music and laughed with the sweetest folks and held the best dogs in the world. I'm old but I'm not done. Keep an eye on me.

Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.



Friday, August 21, 2020

Seeing Spots

 






"How much time does she have, Hansel?"


"Two months. At the most."


She made it exactly two months. Towards the end I would find myself counting her pain pills. I knew that when they were gone, it was over.


Now, a couple of years later, I'm always aware of how many B-12 lozenges are left in the container. I'm not really sure what I'm calculating. As I understand it, we all have obsessive compulsions. It's a disorder when they interfere with a normal life. 


I've never lived a normal life.




Sunday, August 16, 2020

The Lobster's Revenge

 



Turns out I'm not a bad cook. Who knew? 

Not only have I never put my nose to any grindstone, I don't have a single regret about it. Bumbling through life has provided for every need and kept me considering all possibilities over a really long haul. Oh, I wish I had been more patient, more understanding. 

The real mystery, to me, is just how lucky I've been.

Hey, I ate mercury right from the thermometer and rode my bike in the DDT cloud behind the mosquito truck. 

Now cardinals bring me greetings from the ones I've lost and cicadas provide Om. It occurs to me, at last, that one person can't fight. It's not my job to convince anyone of anything. Nobody ever had to work at love. You just don't get in its way.






Sunday, August 9, 2020

On Insignificance

 

As the road winds down, the world seems smaller. The universe seems grander. Love seems to be the only thing worthy of our attention. Once I saw my role from the perspective of the center of the universe. Even now, as I look around me, all that I can see radiates in concentric circles from any place that I stand.

The realization that I am merely a bubble in a vast foaming sea is somehow frightening and reassuring at the same time. I'm a small part of a ripple in a wave of a tide of humanity and humanity is a speck in one of the galaxies that we recognize but surely don't understand.

Don't fret that I'm feeling sorry for myself. I just know my place. There are no hotshots and there aren't many saints. Before I hurt your feelings, let me say, right here, that I think you're perfect. Oh, I am, too.

Love and nature shaped my first few years. Hormones ran the show for decades. I'm hoping that kindness and love can see me out.



                                       




Wednesday, August 5, 2020

Calling Dr. Hofmann






Nothing squelches desire like acquisition. If love is desire, then I suppose the meaning of life is Rosebud and we're all destined to blunder through possessions, relationships and careers. 

No wonder nobody will sit next to me at the dinner party.

Honestly, I'm a happy guy and a simple soul. I'm reminded that my mind is not my friend. We get along well enough, though, I suppose.

Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.