Recently, a douchebag I don't know very well (as opposed to myself and others that I do) told me that it was a lovely life, that every day was one delight after another. I changed the subject as fast as I could as I do not feel that way, not one ounce, and that while I believe life contains some unspeakably beautiful moments and many wonderful hours, much of it seemed a bitter grip and slog, that the heart becomes hardened and sad and that as much as we aspire toward desirelessness or love or following our bliss (yes, I heard this phrase used in conversation in an earnest fashion), we find ourselves bloodied and battered, sad for reasons we can never understand. The people I tend to like best are stoics, ones who come up against this pain and make it funny and real, not the ones in complete denial nor the ones in utter and suffocating martyrdom.
Che Guevara once said that he felt a deep melancholy upon coming to a border, a last glimpse at a lost world, and an excitement on the verge of a new one. Much of life has this quality as we are always losing things even when we tell ourselves otherwise. And even in our mourning, we seek the beauty that will keep us alive and make us whole. Once I got a Christmas package, a huge box of angels, all of them looking as if they had Downs Syndrome. This both made me glad and sad. I know angels can be evil and good, but never thought of them as touched. And somehow this touched me as I unwrapped their dim faces in the glittery paper, holding them up to the light and still finding more buried with their comrades.
Michelle's Spell of the Day
"Relationships in general make people a bit nervous. It's about trust. Do I trust you enough to go there?" Neil LaBute
Cocktail Hour
Drinking HBO suggestion: Entourage returns!
Benedictions and Maledictions
Happy Sunday!
8 comments:
"When you follow your bliss... doors will open where you would not have thought there would be doors, and where there wouldn't be a door for anyone else." JC
My bliss lead me right off of a cliff...the only good thing I can say about the whole thing is that it was a nice perspective...until I hit the ground..... ~W
I once wrote a poem called "rotted angel." The idea of beauty and decay had a certain attraction to me then. It's less strong now.
We are pursuing a new place to live. It has been an elusive quest thus far but we came upon a house with a Virgin Mary statue centered on the grass in front of the porch. I supposed that someone about to be foreclosed had left it with the glimmer of hope that the house would sell and they wouldn't lose all that they had invested there. A stone prayer or a prayer cast in stone.
The head was broken off at the neck and rested on the porch next to the statue.
Well for one who claims not to be a JUDGEMENTAL person,how in the hell can you call this guy a douchebag ?
Opinions are stated to be like assholes,We all have one.
M, you are correct in your opinion but so is the douchebag .
like snatching little defeats from the jaws of victory....
Hi Sweety, I have a Che tshirt that I've been saving for you. Soon, girl! Luv, Jodi
I was a student of yours. I also worked at Borders for a time and was browsing the writing advice section. I opened a book randomly and discovered a name that was vaguely fammiliar to me. Anyways I sorted it out and it happened to be your name and I am reasonably sure it is you. Thats pretty effin cool.
The angel part at the end of this was very sweet.
I used to be one of those overly-positive people. Then I got real. Ironically I'm much happier now. Being more true to myself, I guess.
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