Stunday, July 12, 2009

I guess one could say that my uncle M was the gray sheep of the family. He wasn't the Crazy Uncle, or the Uncle In Jail, he just had bigger horizons than Louisville. Growing up, relatives would talk about how I seemed to take after him. How I would probably just up and leave when I grew up, just like M. I had always wanted to meet him, then one day out of the blue, he'd moved back to KY, gotten my number, and called me in SF. We talked for two hours. He told me about touring Europe, playing with Al Green, living the free life of an Artist. He'd returned after 20 some odd years with absolutely nothing to show for what he'd accomplished in life, and wouldn't have changed a thing. He told me not to let anyone tell me how to live, because anyone who isn't driven by the passions we share, won't understand. A couple years later, we finally met. There wasn't much talking this time, we just went into his studio and played for a couple hours. It was rough, sloppy, even cheesy at times, but there was more communication going on than anyone else who was watching would know. I'm glad we got to meet that one time. There won't be another, because my uncle died Saturday night.

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Being the fan that I am of balance, there was a flip side to the loss of a kindred spirit. You, faithful reader, may remember R, the woman with whom I share a bond so strong that we allowed each other to live our passions separately, rather than compromise ourselves to be together. I haven't seen her in 11 years, or spoken to her in 6, and not for want of trying. Well, thanks to the addictive miracle of Facebook, I saw a picture of her, taken less than a week ago. Seeing that picture, and feeling what I felt- I truly understand love. Not the lusty giddiness of romance, not the dizzy, whirling dervish of a crush, not even the Emily Bronte thumping chest of unrequited love, but embracing the simple thought of another as the most important thing in the world. The problem with this, is that someday, somewhere, someone is going to read this, and think that she will have to compare. I have no illusions here; R has been happily married with a daughter for most of this decade. This is the totally selfless love that has nothing to do with attraction or even emotional attachment. It's what Rilke was talking about, the ultimate, perhaps that for which human lives are as yet barely large enough.

The United States in America

I used to live on Dolores Street in a flat that had been rented by the same woman for 50 years. She grew up in Colombia, and came to the States in her 20's. We were talking one day, and she asked me what country I was from. When I told her I was American, she told me that she's American too, America is more than the United States.

I'm not big on holidays in general. For most of my adult life, I've been ambivalent about Independence Day, but after living in the Mission for 3 years, I had come to actively dislike it, and now, it actually scares me a little. The active dislike is because I live far enough from gang territory to not worry about it, but close enough that I hear "fireworks" year round. Nerve wracking.

Now here's the scary thing that I realized this weekend: this is a holiday to celebrate the psychotic, sociopathic, and immature nature of government. The idea that were the government a person, it would be institutionalized for life is lifted part and parcel from The Illuminatus Trilogy. I'm not just referring to the US government, in fact, I'm thinking of North Korea, Iran, The Xinjiang province in China, Honduras, Mexico, Darfur...

Anyway, when we have problems with other people, we're supposed to talk them out (at least that's what my parents taught me). Use logic, philosophy, humor, whatever is best in diffusing the situation. The governmental notion of humor is, "do what we say or we will execute you." (A Chinese official really did threaten execution to anyone who dared to protest). For logic: "We don't think you are right , and if you don't agree, we'll kick you out and not listen to you (see Honduras). You get the idea; the point is, every July 4th, we celebrate the fact that our government has been kicking other governments in the nuts and stealing their lunch money for two-hundred thirty-whatever years. Pretty sad, if you ask me.

Really?? I mean really?

I've been on the lookout for a while now, if you take my meaning, and tonight was a good night. A really good night. Not in the "I had a good (nudge nudge wink wink) night" sort of way, but in the, "wow" sort of way.

She's half Belgian and half Spanish, a WTF combination that is right up my alley. There was no small talk, it was straight into philosophy, religion, European vs US culture, language and semantics, and Bucky Fuller. Everything I could possibly ask for. She has dark, Mediterranean looks, speaks French, and is almost six feet tall. How could anything possibly be wrong?

...she just turned twenty one.

She wasn't alive when 'Thriller" was released. She probably knows "Chocolate Rain" better than "Purple Rain." Say Johnny Depp, and '21 Jump Street' won't even be a possibility. F i f t e e n y e a r s separates our ages. She seems to be an old soul, and I am pretty young at heart (the Facebook quiz told me I'm still 27) but day-yum!

I-yi-yi...


UPDATE
I was chatting about last night's events with a friend, and she had something profound to say. It went something like this:

"so?"

Absolute genius. I'm always creating problems before things even get started. I'm picky as hell. No one is ever going to be perfect, so if 95% is there, why let 5% be the deciding factor?

Sometimes It's Nutty, Having Most Everything Said

I just finished writing a new post. It was witty and inventive and told another chapter in a related story. Then I realized that the main thrust of this story divulges a secret that is not ready to be told. Granted, it is highly unlikely that the person who can't know about this secret is going to read my blog, or find out the secret from one of the five or six people who read it.

So, while I would love to tell you, I can't put it out there for the whole world to see. Suffice to say, someone whom I trusted implicitly took away something and someone who was precious to me. He lied to me, he hurt her, and betrayed us both. He was family to me, and I love him for all the things he did, but, knowing what I know now, I can never forgive him. On the other hand, the hurtful, cold, and even crazy things she did make so much more sense now, and while she went too far, I can start to forgive her.

Songs about F*cking

I like sex.

You're probably wondering "who doesn't," and, "why does a declaration need to be made," but think honestly; could you say those three words to anyone, anywhere? In the United States, people are generally obsessed with sex, but hate and fear talking about it.

We have an increasingly agnostic and liberal population, regardless of whether you're in a red state or a blue state. Still, we're stuck in Puritanical views regarding sex. I'm thinking about this in light of the death of David Carradine. More details are coming out about the likelihood of his death being an accidental result of auto-erotic masturbation. So many comments on these news stories disparage him as creepy, deviant, even evil person. Yes, it is a high risk behavior, but so is mountain climbing, or skydiving, or owning a pet chimpanzee, all of which may be seen as a bit crazy, but not in a negative way. Yet somehow, when you bring sex into it, if it isn't straight, missionary style, and in a committed relationship, it's morally wrong all the way up to repugnant.

Does This Apartment Make Me Look Fat?

Facebook is a great tool for sharing info and thoughts with immediate circles, old friends, relatives, celebrities, and their pets. I like reconnecting with old friends and classmates, or being reminded why they had been jettisoned like so much detritus. I recently heard from about the oldest friend I have, in a manner of speaking (we haven't seen one another in at least 25 years). Looking at his page, I saw that he was married with two children and seemingly settled into a happy family life.

Seeing how a sizable number of my friends are in long term relationships, or engaged, or married, or expecting kids, or have kids, this shouldn't have been a big deal. Thing is, I can remember when they met, had a one month anniversary (?) got engaged, etcetera, etcetera. With this guy, one minute he's ten, the next minute he's Bob Saget. It's like not noticing yourself in the mirror until one morning, you get into the shower, catch a glimpse of something and spin around into the Karate Kid pose before realizing that jiggly person in front of you is you.

The jiggly person I'm looking at in the mirror has no defined career path, still lives with housemates and hasn't had a proper date in about a year. On the other hand, while I may not be a rockstar, I've made music that I enjoy, met and worked with some of my heroes, played a few big stages, and been given some coins for doing it. There are no regrets in any of the decisions I've made in life- I know I was not cut out to be a 'picket fencer,' but I think I need to find a little more equilibrium in my life. It's time to go ahead and make a few changes that I've been considering, but for one reason or another, haven't done. There's never going to be a perfect time, so like the old man that kept a bee colony in a shoebox under his bed, 'f*ck 'em, I want the honey.'

Dragon Music

Last Friday was kind of really amazing. More than 'kind of' in all reality.

OK, it was neat, really neat.

It was a performance with some moderately insane musicians, making not-so-easy listening music, and having a blast doing it. In truest improv fashion, not everyone in the ensemble had ever met each other before playing. C&M and N were really sweet to come show support, and seemed to ingratiate themselves with several of my other friends, whether they knew it or not ("who are the Brits? We LOVE them"). While they had some idea of what was going to happen, I don't think AD and AJ knew what they were in for, but they seemed to enjoy themselves anyway. I also enjoyed the little hello that made me remember that Rule #2 is no longer a factor (nudge-nudge, etcetera [I've become a fan of writing out 'etcetera', since I really can't come up with a good reason to abbreviate a word that isn't that long or difficult to spell]), but I have no mojo as of late, so it probably doesn't matter.

The trippy thing about the show was the family vibe. Remember, I have no mojo, let alone a preggers gf, toddlers, teenagers or otherwise. This made me feel very Donny (that's 'out of my element,' for those who don't speak Lebowskese). In an audience of a hundred twenty some odd people, there were at least half a dozen pregnant women (including the one on stage). Despite allergies to cuteness, I have to admit that the baby with shooting range ear protection didn't give me hives. There were also a couple of stories that gave me hope for the future (and might make me consider giving thought to the possibility of recuperative therapy on my baby making gene):

S is a phenomenal drummer with a huge range, but is primarily known for his jazz work. With characteristic non chalance, he mentioned how proud he was that his pre-school age son loves Iron Maiden. When he tried to play AC/DC, his son said, "no Daddy, I like the dragon music." This prompted P to tell how he had just celebrated his younger daughter's ninth birthday by giving her her first stereo system. One would imagine in most households, prepubescent girls are infatuated with whatever pop confection is on MTV or Nickelodeon or whatever the kids do these days- but not P's daughter. No, N loves the Residents. Of course, this reminded me of when P took his older daughter to see the White Stripes, and how after the show, he asked E how she liked it. She said they were ok, but the Ramones are better.