Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Too Little, Too Late
Whenever a friend expresses a desire to reunite with an ex, I tell the following story. The confessional poet Robert Lowell and his fiction writer girlfriend Jean Stafford were in a bad car accident because Robert L. was not known for his good judgment when it came to drinking and driving. Jean S. broke her nose and needed extensive surgery to fix it. They were in a rocky patch of their relationship as Robert L. was not an easy man to date -- a manic-depressive with a drinking problem and a sex addiction that earned him the nickname Cal (as in Caligula). These two crazy kids broke up and got back together the following year. After a long night of drinking, Robert L. punched Jean S. in the nose, the one that had finally healed, and broke it in the exact same way. Is this, I then say, how all repeats are at their core? Then I start humming "Reunited and it feels so good . . " because I am a smartass. Nobody, I might add, ever listens to this advice. If he or she is already asking the question, whatever you say falls under the category too little, too late.
Damage repeats itself with or without our help. I'm a klutz, the kind of person who falls so often that people are always saying Careful, careful. I almost fell into a man on crutches the other day in line. He laughed and said, You're just like my daughter -- Beautiful everywhere except the knees. I sewed up one myself -- all that time in Vietnam will teach you how to do it cleaner than a doctor. I left less of a scar. I nodded and smiled, happy that I didn't have falling onto a Vietnam Vet on crutches on my list of things I can do to help myself get into hell. I have two big scars from two different falls beneath my kness. When I cleaned them out, I promised I'd be more careful. I swore it! After all, if I really want to hurt myself, I can go on a relaxing ride down a road I already know.
Michelle's Spell of the Day
"If you're going to try, go all the way. Otherwise don't even start. This could mean losing girlfriends, wives, relatives, jobs. And maybe your mind. It could mean not eating for three or four days. It could mean freezing on a park bench. It could mean jail. It could mean derision. It could mean mockery, isolation. Isolation is the gift. All the others are a test of your endurance. Of how much you really want to do it. And you'll do it, despite rejection in the worst odds. And it will be better than anything else you can imagine. If you're going to try, go all the way. There is no other feeling like that. You will be alone with the gods. And the nights will flame with fire. You will ride life straight to perfect laughter. It's the only good fight there is. " Charles Bukowski
Drinking movie suggestion: Barfly
Benedictions and Maledictions
62 days until The Sopranos airs!