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The power of language is undeniable. How evocative the act of arranging letters in a particular order can be. CIA. FBI. NSA. DIA. AIA. ASA. NRO. Betcha you’re not sure what all of those represent. Don’t beat yourself up. It doesn’t reflect poorly on your intelligence.
If what I am intimating has even a modicum of veracity, I’d be out of my fucking gourd to write about it… or would I? Everyone has a breaking point, a point when one can no longer swallow the bullshit and finds themselves compelled to speak. Perhaps I’d reached that stage… or did I?
Who likes timelines? From January to August 2009, I was in Indonesia. Curious timing, wouldn’t you say? On July 17th, 2009, two separate bombs…
My feelings evolved. In the ensuing years, I experienced deep regrets and emotions that often threatened to overwhelm me in an instant. I wasn’t afraid she still had feelings for me, that she still needed me. I was afraid she didn’t, and I couldn’t bear the truth.
I’d fallen down an abandoned well of despair, one I believed I’d never escape. I didn’t want to see Leslie again. I needed to see her again. My life came to a standstill, an existential limbo. I thought of her life. What are you doing right now? Who are you doing it with? Do you ever think of me? Of us? Do you still have a warm place in your heart for our time together? Such thoughts could and would send me into a downward spiral that took days to recover from…
Just beneath a calming sea
Churns a dark uncertainty
A war against life’s entropy
A soul without a place to be
‘To be or not to be’ you see
Propels our raw humanity
An existential shopping spree
To find that perfect place to be
Universal Truth Decree:
I’m like you and you’re like me…
LIFE IS. WHAT? DUNNO. OR DO I? No, I do not. Yes, yes, I do. Is it beautiful and sad and ugly and magnificent and horrible and heart-wrenching and blissful and temporary and mysterious and tortuous and toxic and intoxicating and unbearable and indescribable and haunting and stupid and amazing and… and… and… and? I want to absorb it all, take it all in, be absorbed by it, run away from it, run into it, run with it, chase it, let it chase me, comprehend it, do whatever it is I am supposed to do with it… which is… which is… I don't know. I will never know. You won’t either. Do I want to know? Do you? Yes. No. Maybe. No. No. Definitely not. Yes. What the fuck am I talking about?
To reiterate, Hank the Handyman I am not. But I know someone who is: my brother. He’s one of those “not smart” people. Every time I encountered circumstances highlighted above, I thought, Bet Gil could fix that shit. Ah yes, insert clichéd “Jack of all trades” meme. Thing is, the cliché started somewhere and is alive and well in mon frère. I’ve been hard-pressed to find anyone more dedicated to finding new and interesting ways to repair things others would discard in frustration. Case in point? We had a riding lawnmower that was something of a dinosaur. Compared to today’s options…
It is better to be hated for what you are than loved for what you are not. There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle. Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans. You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough. All God does is watch us and kill us when we get boring. We must never, ever be boring. The more sand that has escaped from the hourglass of our life, the clearer we should see through it. Being on the tightrope is living; everything else is waiting.
In other words: Live! Live, you…
To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment. Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius and it's better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring. Always be a first rate version of yourself and not a second rate version of someone else. About all you can do in life is be who you are. Some people will love you for you. Most will love you for what you can do for them, and some won't like you at all. Just be yourself, there is no one better.
Nothing like being haunted by the ghosts of decisions past. I’m now living in the “much later”. So, what would I do differently? Mmmm, tough to say even with hindsight goggles. A better contingency plan? Probably. I thought painting myself into a corner would force a reckoning. Maybe it did, just not the one I was hoping for. I thought I might find an answer, a calling somewhere out there. The thing is, somewhere…
Bali, I thought. Indonesia? Volcanoes? Dragons? Yoda? Seemed like as good a place as any to begin my exile. If I didn’t like it, I could always move on. East to Pacific island nations, northwest to Asia, south to New Zealand. So, like that I bought a Lonely Planet, made a reservation, and prepared for my escape. I’m gonna eat, pray, and go fuck myself, I thought…One dickhead’s search for anything…
Non Sequiter... Maybe that word sums me up. Maybe it sums up the whole shit show. Maybe our lives are nothing more than a string of ‘em held together by the cosmic glue left over from the bang that lead to all the other banging. So bang me. Bang me. They ought and take a rope and hang me. A conclusion or statement that does not logically follow from the previous argument or statement. Sapiens. That’s us. And me…
So, I sit, and I dream of more. Not because I deserve more. Not because I feel entitled. Not because I need more. (I do.) Only because a hundred lifetimes would be insufficient to “suck out all the marrow of life.” That’s the triumph and the tragedy of our existence, whether or not we choose to face it. There’s a moment or period in everyone's life they treasure. It may be a minute or a year, but it’s there. And that moment, that feeling, that sense of comprehension, is a feeling like no other and trumps any drug out there. If you’re lucky, moments of triumph outnumber moments of tragedy. And if you’re really lucky, you have the good sense and good fortune to cherish that remarkable circumstance because, in the blink of an eye, someday it will all be over…