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Oh, Pootie-Poot

Tremendomeatatarianism

Tremendomeatatarianism is the ethical stance of vowing only to eat meat that’s tremendously delicious.

Great picture

The Civil War

I’ve been reading more about the Civil War, and these next clips are from the PBS documentary “The Civil War.” Interesting stuff if you’re in the historical mood. Lincoln fascinates me.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Missing parts 7, 8, 9…

Poem of The Walrus

This poem is a jambalaya of 64 song titles from The Beatles.  64, of course, an homage to their song “When I’m Sixty-Four”

I’ve just seen a face and I’ve got to get you into my life:
Misery and chains were in my life, till there was you;
I need you, I want you, I want to be your man.
Tell me what you see within you without you,
Think for yourself and if it’s all too much,
I’ve got a feeling all you need is love.
You really got a hold on me, so honey don’t,
Don’t pass me by: hold me tight here, there and everywhere.
We can work it out, come together and
Twist and shout with a little help from my friends.
We can drive my car back in the U.S.S.R. any time at all,
Down the long and winding road—oh! darling,
Why don’t we do it in the road eight days a week?
It’s only love, so act naturally!

Help! Everyone’s got something to hide except for me and my monkey.
All together now! Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band played in
An octopus’s garden while my guitar gently weeps
For no one; the paperback writer writes of the night before
With Polythene Pam, who is telling mean Mr. Mustard
You’ve got to hide you love away from Penny Lane
(She’s got the devil in her heart like that Eleanor Rigby).
A blackbird and the fool on the hill are fixing a hole with long tall Sally, and
I want to tell it’s been a hard day’s night, but I feel fine because
When I get home, I’ll follow the sun with Mr. Moonlight
In a yellow submarine on a magical mystery tour across the universe.

All my loving,
RML

P.S. – I love you

Enlightenment & Epiphanies (Part 2)

“In the attitude of silence the soul finds the path in a clearer light, and what is elusive and deceptive resolves itself into crystal clearness. Our life is a long and arduous quest after Truth.” -Mohandas K. Gandhi

It was a cool and crisp night with the stars looking like freckles upon the dark sky, and I was walking through the park, clearing my head of the day’s thoughts.  The park at night is a world of shadows, where people are absent (along with the noises they make).  I hear trees lumbering their branches in the wind, insects being a nuisance, and my feet clomping down on the pavement below; there is a sense of tranquility flowing through my body and some serenity replacing bamboozlement in my brain.  I looked up at the stars and wondered if I would ever see a tiny light from far, far away, and say that is Earth, my home turf.

“Cigarette?” a voice slithered through my ears, but from where I could not be sure.  My walk slowed to a stop, and my eyes scanned the darkness for someone only to find no one.  Bummer, I could’ve gone for a smoke then.  I resumed my walked and it wasn’t until I was seven steps further from where I was that the voice slithered through my ears again, “They’re Royals,” but this time I knew someone was behind me.

I spun around and an icy wind blustered across the scene, my eyes fixated upon a tall, thin man in black.  His shoes were black and polished to a shine, his suit was black, his shirt was black, his tie was black, his trench coat was black, his cane was black, and his hair was jet black and slicked back.  An unlit cigarette dangled upon his lips and his black eyes locked onto mine.

“Have one,” he spoke, extending his hand, holding a Turkish Royal cigarette with his skinny and pale fingers.

“I don’t smoke,” I lied, “But thanks anyways.”

The man in black cocked his head and squinted his eyes quickly but briefly and said, “Really?  I’m not a poor judge of character, boy.  Take it.”

I declined and his arm retracted away from me.  Once again, I thanked him for the offer and he shook his head.  I began to walk on, but the man in black asked me a new question, “Do you have a light?”

I told him no, and he quickly asked how I was going to light my cigarette.  Before I could ask him what he was talking about, I found a Turkish Royal cigarette between my index and middle finger.  How it got there, I don’t know, but I heard the sound of footsteps casually creeping toward me and I heard a lighter igniting behind me.  I turned my head to the right and saw a glowing orange light from the flame, so I turned my body around and was face to face with the man in black.  I took the bait, lit my cigarette, and examined my new friend’s face.  He skin was smooth as silk, clean shaved, and although he was pale, he was not unhealthy-looking.  Still, something just wasn’t right about this character—something in his eyes.  I mean, who walks in a park wearing a suit in the middle of the night carrying around a goddamn cane of all things?  I thanked him for the light (I didn’t say anything about how a cigarette appeared in my hand) and began in my attempt to distance myself from this mysterious man.

“Lovely night for a walk, don’t you think so?” he asked.

“Quite peaceful,” I banally bantered back.

“How about some company?” he prodded with some pep.  “You look like you have something on your mind, boy.”

“Just walking,” I said and tried to move away.

“See you around then,” I heard him say as my feet took my away.  My mind went into detective-mode, and I wondered who that man was, and why did he offer me a cigarette of all things?  Who the hell walks with a cane as a fashion accessory?  Why am I smoking this cigarette—?  Because I wanted to, that’s why.  Why are filthy habits so tempting to take up again and again and again?  Because I am human, alas, all-too-human.

It wasn’t long before my mind moved away from the man in black and I once again found myself thinking about her.  (She doesn’t like smokers… I shouldn’t be smoking.  Why do I care what she thinks?  Why do I care about her so much?  How is it that she always comes around when I am to myself?)   Oh, what to do, what to do!  I need to make some kind of move with my life… but it needs to be able to lead to new things, I don’t want to take a step and find myself in the same situation as I am now.  I won’t know until I try, then again, I won’t try until I know.  This sucks.  Sucks, sucks, sucks!  I took a final drag and flicked my cigarette away, watching the cherry burst away as it hit the ground.

“That’s littering, you know,” a familiar voice said.  I spun around but did not see anyone behind me, nor around me.  Am I hearing voices in my head now?  Great, just great; paranoia happens to be my carry-on all of a sudden.  I turned back around and saw—to my surprise—my new friend again, the man in black towering over me with both hands on his cane.  His posture was like a ballet dancer, perfectly straight and erect.  A sly grin came across the left half of his face (the right side stood stale) and he coolly said, “Doesn’t bother you, does it?”

“It’s only a cigarette.  The wind will probably blow it away, or the rain will wash it away, or someone will cut the grass and mow the damn thing away.  So, no, it doesn’t bother me,” I explained.

“What’s bothering you right now, boy?” he asked with curiosity.

“You are,” I said solidly.

“Me?” he said with a pseudo-chuckle and took a few steps back.  “Me?  Oh, good sirrah, you are in good company with me around.  Come, let’s walk and talk!”

“I’d rather go solo,” I said as I stepped around him.

“Like your sex life?” he said in a non-comical way, almost as if he was trying to make a point about something.  (But what?)

“It’s still sex with someone I love,” I joked back, trying walk away from this odd figure.  As I walked, the scenery around me began to change: dark turned to light, grass turned to snow, and my neighborhood park turned into the Himalayas—how this transformation occurred, I knew not, except it was done seamlessly and most gracefully.  I found myself on the summit of some mountain, with my feet in a foot of snow, wearing a robe from a lion’s hide for warmth.  Curiously, my new friend was with me as well, but his attire remained the same.

“What the fuck?” was the first thing I said.  The man in black burst with a freighting round of laughter that sounded maniacal as it danced and echoed across the mountain tops.  He walked up to me; he was standing on top of the snow while I was a foot deep in it.  His shoes were as clean and spotless as if they were brand new, even the tip of his cane did not penetrate the snow.  I asked him where we were, and in a dry and grizzly tone, he said, “Mount Everest.”

“Mount Everest?  What am I doing here?” I asked.

“Look around and take it in,” he said, and so I did.  Mountains.  Mountains as far as I could see.  Mountains so high that clouds seemed to pool along their crevasses.  The sky had a clean, cobalt color and the air was thin yet clear.  He continued, “Look at you now.  You are on top of the world!”

True; he had a good point, yet I still felt down in the dumps on the inside.  Also, really fucking confused.

“Who are you?” I finally asked.  His black eyes pierced mine and a smile sprawled across his face.  His teeth were immaculate.

“Call me Ehks,” he said.

“Like the letter?” I asked.

“Wow, nothing gets by you!  You’re a sharp little fellow, aren’t you?” he said, and with his left hand, he snapped his fingers and a cup of coffee appeared in my hands.  I’ll admit: there is nothing like a fresh cup of coffee when you find yourself mysteriously on the summit of the tallest mountain in the world.  He continued as if he was perfectly comfortable in his surroundings, “Everyone is below you right now.  The world and all its woes are beneath you.  Don’t you wish you could meditate here, boy?”

“Yeah,” I had to agree with him on this one.  The world is different up here, when there’s nothing left to climb.  Everyone is below me, he did have a point.  Some woman is farming rice right now.  Somewhere down below me is a man is herding goats.  There is also a baby taking its first steps, and a grandmother dies alone in her bed, someone is falling in love and someone is about to commit suicide.  Someone is shaving right now, a homeless man is being ignored, and I am not where I ought to be.  So, I politely ask, “What am I doing here?”

“I’m giving you a new perspective!” he said.  “You see, I’ve been watching you—and don’t flatter yourself thinking I’m stalking you—and you need a change.  The least I could do is change your environment.”

“Who are you really?” I pried.  He looked at me through squinted eyes and showed a wiry grin.  He removed a cigarette from behind his ear and lit up.  He taped his cane lightly on both my shoulders, and brushed some snow off me as well.

“I am your best friend and closest comfort when things are beyond your reach, my boy,” he spoke slowly and there was a certain iciness in his voice as he began to walk in circles around me, “I create inspiration and see my seeds grow like magic beanstalks.  I will you take you from here to there and beyond, and I can show you how you can have it all.  I’m a genie without a bottle, a magician who does not perform worthless tricks, a wanton ringmaster who tames ravishment and acquisitiveness.  With me, your wishes become your will to power, your dreams into reality, your desires into destiny, and all your cravings will be sedated properly.  My dear boy, I am Temptation, and I am here to serve you,” and then he bowed.  When he returned to his upright position, his face was still for a second, and then he flashed a dazzling smile and unleashed a maelstrom of laughter the reverberated around the mountains and churned my stomach.

“Temptation?” I asked in a perplexing tone, “Why are you with me?”

Ehks snapped his left hand again and my vision began to disintegrate.  The Himalayas began to crumble and a more refined environment began to assemble itself.  When it was all said and done, I found myself standing in the Oval Office.  Ehks jumped on top of the President’s desk and hopped into the chair behind it.  He spun around in the chair a few times and said, “Wheee!” in a weary manner and smeared the still-smoking cigarette across the desk.  It was a very nice desk, and what he did was unnecessary in my opinion.

“You don’t mind if I use your chair, do you?” he asked.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked.

“You don’t know?” he asked in a circuitous voice. “I am the one you have been waiting for!  Take this,” and from his inside pocket he tosses me a black velvet ring box.  Open it, he says, and I do.  Inside is a glowing red button.

“Do you know what that button can do?” he pointedly asked me as he kicked his heels on top of the desk.

I had an idea, but I still had to ask, “What does it do?”

“Nothing, actually,” he said, and another round of laughter filled the room and filled my insides with agony; there was something wicked in his laugh.  “The President doesn’t actually push the button to launch a nuclear missile.  It’s a much more complicated process and it involves the military and all you do is really authorize it.  But I think you get the general idea, Mr. President.”

“And why have I been waiting for you?” I played along.

“Because you need me—badly.  I can smell it,” he said in a calm and reasonable tone as he inhaled deeply through his thin nostrils and pulled out another cigarette.  “You can’t decide what to do. You don’t like your current options.  You know your own limitations. So, I am here to help you!  What if I were to tell you that someday you will become the most powerful man in the world?”

“I would ask when and how.”

“Time matters not, my boy,” he enunciated while lighting up in the Oval Office. “How, however, depends entirely on you.  What do you want to do?”

“Do all American Presidents have this conversation?”

“Just Nixon, actually.”

“I’m missing something,” I said with caution.  Something was not adding up right, something inside me felt uneven.

“Of course you are!” he said and clapped his hands twice and a swirl of smoke quickly rose from beside him, and when the smoke cleared, there she was; wearing that little, red dress that drives me wild.  Temptation never looked oh-so-good.  She slid up next to Ehks, ran her fingers through his hair as he blew smoke in her face, and she sat down on his lap, nuzzling her head on his shoulder.  She never broke eye contact with me and her gaze was so deep you’d think she was drilling for oil behind my retina.  Ehks began to slide his left hand up and down her leg and she moaned ever so softly as her hands moved across his chest and atop his shoulder; when their lips met, my teeth began to grind.  He looked at me with his ominous eyes and nonchalantly asked, “Missing something?”

“What’s she doing here?” I demanded.

“Whatever you want her to do!” Ehks exclaimed.  He spanked her and she hopped onto her feet.  She straightened her dress and looked at me dead in the eyes and I was immediately under her spell.  She walked to me slowly and silently, never looking away.  I saw Ehks light another cigarette as she placed her hands behind my neck, continued to gaze into my eyes with her mouth half-open, and softly drew herself closer to me.  She smelled of pomegranate, cinnamon, and honey and when I touched her skin I felt something like electricity flowing between us.  I closed my eyes and embraced her, our foreheads touched and my heart began to race; temptation wears a little, red dress.

Ehks snapped with his left hand and I opened my eyes to see the Oval Office disappear and in its place, the three of us now stood on top of a tall cliff overlooking the ocean.  The sun shined warmly, the ocean crashing and splashing against the rocks down below, and gusts of wind blew across the grassy meadow but it was never too bothersome—it was just right.  I looked around and felt a sense of freedom and purpose.  Ehks strolled along a path dotted with wildflowers, swiping some with his cane every so often—and the girl in the red dress still had her eyes closed and her face told me she was at peace (and she looked beautiful in that state).  I listened to the ocean hurling its waves into the rocks over and over and over again and again and again.  Ehks had made his way to the only tree on top of our plateau, so I decided to follow his path.  She walked along next to me barefooted, holding my hand, and smiling at the whole world.  When we finally came to Ehks’s stop, she picked three green apples and gave one to me and one to him and one to herself.  I bit into the apple and it was luscious.

“Like it here?” Ehks asked me.

“It’s incredible!” I said.  “Where are we?”

“Ireland.”

“Why here?”

“Because this entire area was once ruled by kings,” he said.  “Ever wondered what it would be like to be king?”

“Sometimes.  Why?”

“You can make it so.”

“What?  King?” I asked and Ehks gave me a nod.

“All this can be yours.  The land, the people, the markets, everything!  You will be king, and you will lead your people to prosperity and health.  They will bow to you, you can control them, and you can do anything you want them to do.”

“No, don’t want it,” so I spoke.  Ehks face shifted into a more sinister shape and he slinked next to me.

“What do you mean, you don’t want it?” he asked with antagonism in his tone.

“I don’t want to be a king.  I don’t want to be the President,” I said, “That’s not me.”

Ehks was clearly vexed.  With a snap of his left hand, Ehks displaced the sky so cerulean and grassy fields as green as polished emeralds, and replaced our position by an active volcano spewing lava high into the air, falling down to the ground and eventually trickling into the ocean.  The girl in the red dress was startled and clung onto my arm as an enormous blast erupted from the volcano and lava poured across the landscape, burning everything it touched.  Ehks took the apple from my hand and threw it into the stream of lava.

“I know what’s inside you,” Ehks sneered, “You have so much potential yet you are so frightened of what’s expected of you.  You don’t play by their rules; you want to make your own!  You have ideas that need to be heard.  You see things that the world must be shown.  You find what’s true and see it through.  But you need something.  You need—” And he veered his head ever so slightly to peer at her, in that little, red dress.  He whistled and she immediately broke away from my arm and walked back toward Ehks.  He slid his hands up and down her hips and waist; she made that noise that sounds of pleasure.  Ehks looked at me and said, “You need her,” and he pulled her hair and made her gasp.

“I want her,” I corrected him.

“You have to go through me first, boy,” he growled.

“But she isn’t real!” I cried out, “I was looking at something that wasn’t there!”

“But with me it can happen!” Ehks shouted and a monumental gush of lava burped to the surface.  “All those castles in the sky you talk about!  I can make them fly!  I can give you exactly what you want!”

“But it’s not what she wants!”

“Fuck her!  This is your life we are talking about, not hers!  You know there is a future waiting for you to claim it, and take it!  You know this will work out in the end!”

“For what though?  Why?  Why me?”

“Because you’re a lost cause without any hope,” Ehks said slowly and accurately.  He unleashed another round of vile laughter that seemed to shake the volcano into a terrible mode.   Once his shrilling laughter ended, he spoke in a vicious tone, “You’re weak and pathetic and you need someone to motivate you.  Someone to help you.  Someone to tell you everything will be all right.  You can think all you want, but you won’t create anything without me.  Temptation is just another word for persuasion:  I know the words that will make her heart melt; I know the words that will make her yours; I know the words that can make everything better!  And it can happen right now!”

“There has to be a catch to all of this!” I shouted.  And with that, Ehks snapped his left hand again and the violent volcano evaporated and I was relieved to find myself right back where I started: on a familiar path that forked to the left and to the right.  Ehks and the girl in the little, red dress stood together on the left side.

“There is a catch,” the man in black told me.  “Consequences.”

“Consequences?”

“Consequences.”

“Details, you devil,” I demanded.

“I can make everything work out for you.  Both of you.  Together.  Something wonderful and something splendid are in your stars.  I’m the one who can connect the dots.”

“There are consequences for everything, though,” I thought out loud.

“So you see, there is no catch.  This can be all yours.  From your own doing,” he said, and pounded his cane into the pavement.

And so there I was, standing at a fork in the road.  To my left was Ehks and the girl in the little, red dress, and I could smell the success and taste the victory already; to my right was a dark and lonely sidewalk, devoid of light and clarity.  Ehks shot a wryly grin my way and the girl in the red dress winked at me.  A cold wind blustered across the landscape and he was right all along: I needed him because I can’t do it on my own.  How could I resist?  Temptation makes men into lemmings, and I wanted to be part of something great and grand and glorious.  Without hesitation, I took my first step toward the left, and then I heard a cat’s meow somewhere to the right.  I turned my head and saw a white kitten with crystal blue eyes.  Where it came from, I don’t know, but it slowly walked towards me, gazing at me the entire time, and stopped about forty feet from me, sat down, and winked.  Sekhmet!  God, what a clever motherfucker He is.

Ehks called out, “Everyone’s waiting on you!  You have expectations to shatter and civilizations to build!  And she wants to see you do it all!  She wants you!”  Sekhmet meowed softly as a kitten should, but with the intensity of a tiger.  I looked at Sekhmet, who tilted her head to the right, and curved her tail into the shape of a question mark.  I looked at the man in black and the girl in the little, red dress.  He was real, she was not; if only it was the other way around.  Some things you just know, and no one can change that belief.  I know I’m not on the right path yet, but I know the wrong path when I see it (and it is the one with a man with a cane who is not dressed up as Mr. Peanut).

I turned to the right, walked to Sekhmet and picked her up, and she began to purr once I put her in my arms.  Ehks began to howl, “You’re a failure!  You’ll never make it in this world!  You’re all alone and the one person that can help you won’t be there!  You are doomed to your own thoughts!” but I didn’t care anymore, I kept on walking.  Chances are, we’ll probably end up talking again, somewhere down the road of time.  I walked and walked and walked.  Where to?  Doesn’t really matter now.  I looked down at Sekhmet, who was still purring warmly against my chest.

“Tell me that this will all make sense in the end,” I softly lamented to Sekhmet.

“Tell me that you will make sense of it before then,” His voice whispered in my head.  Cheeky bastard…

“This feels like a mistake on my part.  I feel like I’m giving up and I was never good enough,” I had to say.

“Giving up is not a sign of weakness,” He said.  “Sometimes it means you are strong enough to move on.”

“I acted like a lonely, drunken fool who was finally crushed by the reality of the situation.  It was all in my head the entire time.  The two of us together felt like bliss.”

“Just because you’re not the man in her life doesn’t mean you can’t be the friend that she needs.  You want to move on?  Let go of that sliver of hope and watch her grow.  You know she’s bright.  You know she’s capable.  And you know she says the same to you.”

“I know, I know.  Still, ugh, it fucking sucks.”

“So what if it does?” He remarked.  “Like you said, you were looking at something that wasn’t really there.  It was all an illusion in your head, and it made you happy.  Real happy.”

“She has a tendency to do that.”

“So why don’t you tell her that you’re sorry for putting her into an awkward situation, even though it’s probably mutual at this point.  Remember, just because you saw something that wasn’t there isn’t a bad thing.  Now you get to see what’s really there.  Potentiality is just that: potential.  But when you can be kinetic, ah, then you know something’s real.  You can feel friendship if the two of you are balanced.”

“I feel so unbalanced right now.”

“Quit bitching about it and find out where you need to go!  Sooner or later you have to make a decision.”

“I have a lot of work to do.”

“Yeah, you do.  But you can manage, you always have.  And maybe, just maybe, you’ll find that enlightenment you seek.”

“I’ve had more epiphanies than enlightenment right now.”

“Figure it out.  She wants to know what you’re capable of.”

“I don’t know what I’m capable of anymore.”

“That’s part of the allure.  What’s it going to be?”

“Something worthwhile.”

“How un-ambitious,” He remarked.

“Come on now; give me some time to think!” I pleaded.

“You’ve got time.  And stop being so damn hard on yourself!  It’s ridiculous man, and if you don’t understand the situation fully, ask questions.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I said dully.

“I can see why you like her though.  She told you what you needed to hear.  It’s like the verbal version of a swift kick in the ass, and that’s what you really needed.”

“She’s something else…”

“And she’s your friend.  Don’t deny her your good company.  She helps you, you help her.  Call it dependency, call it teamwork, call it whatever you want.  Just enjoy the company, dumbass.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“It is easy.  You two get along.  That’s what makes it easy.”

“I just wish it didn’t turn out like this.  I misbehaved and misinterpreted and misunderstood—”

“Stop being so hard on yourself!” His voice thundered in my head, and I finally was able to laugh—He was right.  Stop being so hard on yourself.

“Do you think she’ll understand?”

“She’s no dunce, and I’m willing to gamble that your brazenly emotional hysteria does not warrant an end to a friendship.  She’s stronger than that, and so are you.”

“Thanks, I needed to hear that.”

“You need a better outlet for your thoughts.  As cool as our conversations are, well, I’m busy, so find someone else to talk to besides yourself.  Find someone who likes you more than you do.  Shouldn’t be hard.”

“Busy with what?” I queried.

“Oh, fuck you!  You know what?  Just for that—” And with a poof, Sekhmet vanished from my arms.

So here I am, back where I began.  It was a quite a trip and I saw some amazing things, but reality is so much better than fiction, and it’s high time I made a real effort to really realize something realistic.  (Whatever that means.)  I continued walking under a cloudless sky, and as luck might have it, I saw a shooting star; so, I made a wish: that true friendships can weather stormy times, and that they can grow into great times once the sun comes out to play.

Enlightenment & Epiphanies (Part 1)

“Because philosophy arises from awe, a philosopher is bound in his way to be a lover of myths and poetic fables. Poets and philosophers are alike in being big with wonder.” –St. Thomas Aquinas

I meditated one night and was able to escape from my brain, and found myself sitting with God.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” God remarked.

“I need to talk,” I confessed.  Although my eyes were closed, I felt Him smile and he worked up a suitable environment for us to discuss matters of the mind: a fireplace, popcorn, two very comfortable chairs, a crystal decanter filled with 150-year-old cognac, and a kitten napping in each of our laps.

I opened my eyes and saw a grey kitten sleeping in my lap and a white kitten in His.  “Why is your cat different from mine?” I asked.

“Mine is white for obvious reasons.  Yours is grey for obvious reasons.”

“Not so obvious to me.”

“Because things aren’t so black-and-white for you right now; you’re in the shades of grey right now, bro.”

“So you know why I’m here?” I sighed.

“No, I just know you and why you come around.  I’m not a mind-reader,” God replied, “I don’t work like that.”

“Why not?” I protested, “Wouldn’t that be a lot easier?  I mean, you’re God, right?”

“Being God does not mean you’re godlike.  It falls under that umbrella of ‘working in mysterious ways.’”

“How’s that working out for you?”

God said, “Meh,” sniffed the cognac, and sneezed as loudly as a hurricane.  “Good stuff!”

I noticed God’s hair, “Your afro has gotten bigger since last time.”

“It has, hasn’t it?” God proclaimed with pride.  “I’m thinking about dreds, what do you think?”

“You could pull it off.”

“Damn right I could!  But what do you think?”

“I think I think too much.”

“You’ve been saying a lot of that recently.”

“Yeah,” I said and drank my cognac, which caused me to sneeze afterwards.  It wasn’t a particularly loud sneeze.

“Good stuff?” God asked.

“Very good,” I said.  We toasted to the good stuff.  I looked at the white kitten on God’s lap.  It was batting His beard around as if it was a big white string.  The grey kitten in my lap was napping, napping soundly.  I scratched the kitten behind its ears, and it began to purr and rolled over on its back.  With a sigh, I told God that I needed help.

“Tell and I will listen.”

“I don’t know where to begin.”

“Try from the beginning!”

“Smartass,” I snarled.  God smiled, winked His right eye seven times in exactly 3. 14159265 seconds, wiggled His nose, turned His hair orange with red blobs floating along His hair as if it were a lava lamp, and took another drink.  I continued, “What does it mean—?”

And before I could finish, the Bee Gees appeared in the distance behind God’s chair, and started to sing “Stayin’Alive.”

“Oh, please don’t.” I spoke in a stonily tone.

“Fine,” God said, and the Bee Gees disappeared along with their music.  “Please, continue.”

“What—?” and, again, before I could finish, the sound of “I Will Survive” filled the room, and Gloria Gaynor stepped out of the fireplace wearing a sparkling dress that made her look 20 years younger, it was stunning!  God clasped his hands together and begged, “Just one song?”

“Fine,” I spoke in a defeated tone.  As Mrs. Gaynor sang her song, I drank my cognac and watched God disco from his La-Z-Boy.  The white kitten danced along in rhythm on His lap (did very well, I might add).  After the song finished, Mrs. Gaynor burst into a small, but awesome firework spectacle.

“Was that so bad?” God asked; He snapped His fingers and He was immediately enrobed by the Divine Snuggie.  It looked so comfortable!

“That looks so comfortable!” I gasped in its glory.

“Oh, it is!” God reassured me.  “Try one!” And with that, God snapped His fingers again, and I was immediately enrobed by a Snuggie.  After the initial shock wore off, I found myself feeling very calm and safe with my new Snuggie.

“These are really nice!” I remarked.

“Aren’t they?” asked God.  “They’re like blankets for adults!”

“We already have blankets for adults.  They’re called blankets.”

“No, not that kind of blanket; the kind of blanket that kids carry around and always feel very calm and safe when they’re with.  You know what I mean?”

“I totally understand right now, I really do.” I said with some giddiness in my tone.

“Sorry for the interruptions, my friend.  Let’s rap.”

“Is it possible to be friends with someone you find irresistibly attractive?”

“Good question!  I don’t know; I’ve never felt that kind of way before.  Nor have I had much in the way of friends.”

“Really?  No friends?”

“If the gods had any real friends Creation would probably have been avoided due to the amount of work involved.  Gods don’t have a lot of friends, we just know other gods and we rarely hang out with each other; too many personalities in one room for a conversation to ensue.  Even if we do, it’s not like we talk about anything that interesting.”

“I always thought the gods would make for good company.”

“You get used to them.  But, you people,” God said, pointing His finger at me and beginning to chuckle, “You people are something else though.  I gotta hand it to you.”

“What are talking about?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t understand.  Kind of an inside joke we have.”

“Who’s we?”

“Me and a couple of other gods.  It’s nothing, really,” God said while trying not to laugh harder.

“Are you lying to me?” I asked after a brief pause.

“What do you think?” and turned His face into Groucho Marx, wiggled His eyebrows, and morphed back to His normal, handsome, Sean Connery-like face.  “Sounds like a good friend to have, one that you care about so much.”

“Why?”

“Isn’t that what a friend is?  Someone who cares about you?  And who agrees with what comes intuitively to you?  Someone who does more than lend a hand, or kidney should the need arise?”

“I don’t know.  I’ve never really known what a friend is supposed to be.”

“That’s because you’ve never really thought about a friend before.  You don’t assimilate into new groups very often.  Or, according to you, ‘Not very well.’ ”

“I’m a listener,” I mentioned, or protested; maybe a little of both were in my tone.

“And that’s a very smart thing to do so long as you wish to distance yourself and never interact.   A friend doesn’t simply listen to another person; a friend has to be more than that.”

“And a witty comment proves nothing,” I quoted Voltaire.

“If that’s true, then it’s a shame you’ve built a reputation upon them,” He quipped. “Shenanigans aside, let us talk about friendship.  Go!”  He clapped His hands and the overture from Il barbiere di Siviglia erased the silence with the warmth of a rising, Spanish sun.

After a moment, I said, “I haven’t a clue where to begin,” and the music faded away like a ghost falling down the stairs.

“Try from the beginning!” God urged, and started the music again with a clap of His hands. I thought for a moment, when was the beginning?

“The first poem I wrote—” and before I could finish, God snapped His fingers and a sheet of paper I apparently dated December 22, 2008 appeared in my hand.  He, too, had a copy.  So did our cats, but they didn’t mind much.

“Sunsets & Sunrises,” God read.  “You didn’t include the final line from your version in the one you sent her.  What’s the deal?  That line was funny!”

“I thought it might have been a tad premature,” I said. “I didn’t want her to think I was some weird creep or something.”

“Why would it be weird?  You ended the piece with, ‘Call it a coincidence, call it fate, but just call it a date.  Say, Friday night?’ and, yeah, okay.  That’s a long way to go to ask a girl out on a date.  You ended it with a question, and I still think you should have included your original closing line.”

“Are you suggesting it was in my best interests to end that poem with, ‘If not, then fuck you and your shoes are ugly’?” God laughed and stomped His feet on the ground, causing His kitten to leap into a defensive posture.

“Oops, didn’t mean to startle you Sekhmet,” God said, calming His kitten down with the pass of His hand down her back.  Sekhmet leapt onto God’s beard and held on tight, and eventually began to climb up His beard and climbed all the way to the top of His afro.  The kitten walked around in a circle, sat down, licked itself on top of the Lord’s head, and cuddled itself into a ball.  God snapped His fingers and his hair stopped its lava lamp appearance and returned it to His natural, sage-green color.  “Your cat’s name is Mafdet.”

“Sheckmet and Madfest?  Where do you get these names?” I inquired.

“It’s Sekhmet and Mafdet.  They were deities way back in the day over in Egypt.  But now?  Now they just like to have company to play with.  Maybe that’s an answer for your friendly conundrum, having company to play with.”

I sighed again (and God gave a melodramatic sigh simply to elicit a facial reaction He would laugh at immediately afterwards), and I looked down at the kitten in my lap. I scratched her behind her ears and asked, “So, you used to be a deity?”

She looked up at me and stared directly into my eyes, and nodded firmly without ever breaking eye contact.  The kitten walked around in a circle on my lap, sat down, licked itself for a long enough time for the Lord and I to shoot each other a look saying, “Dude, don’t you wish you could do that?” and cuddled itself into a ball.

“You probably didn’t catch what she told you just then,” God began. “She says that it feels great when you pet her, and asks why you are seeking an answer that does not exist.”

“What do you mean the answer doesn’t exist?” I asked God, who gave an apathetic shrug and pointed to the kitten.  “Hey!  Wake up Mafdet!  What do you mean?”  But Mafdet was already purring softly in her slumber.  So I asked God, “What do you think it means?”

“Aren’t cats neat?” God smiled.

“There has to be answer!  I need to find it,” I went on.

“Because everyone has a different opinion on what a friend is, or how a friend should be, or how hard it is to be friends with unfriendly people.  There’s no answer because what works for one person is not a guarantee it will work for another person.  Those are the friends you want though.  Or at least, they would be the friends I would want if I were you.  When two people can build upon their history together and help each other get to the next step.”

“What’s the next step?”

“Could be dating.  Could be moving in.  Could be being the designated driver.  Could be grocery shopping together, or asking them how their day was, or it could be giving them time and space.  Could be a lot of things is what I’m trying to tell you.  You need to pay attention and communicate your thoughts and/or feelings.  Remember, it takes two to have a relationship.  If you forfeit your thoughts and feelings about what is ‘ideal’ then you’re appeasing another person who makes you feel miserable.  Avoiding any conflict or merely “keeping the peace” does not count as diplomacy either.  Think of it as an axis, with a friend on one extreme and you on the other, but that’s not where you want to be because you’re separated.  You have to seek the golden mean, at center of the axis, and remember that the center changes with time so stay alert and keep your head up.  Maybe a friend is someone who reminds you to be the best person you can be.  Someone who wants to see what you’re capable of doing.”

I sat in silence, thinking about what I just heard as the fire crackles warmly beside us.  I finished off my drink, and God refilled it with a snap of his fingers.

“I feel incapable of anything right now,” I mumbled.

“You’re still breathing!  You’re metabolizing at an amazing rate!  Don’t you know how amazing your own body is?  You would be impressed if you ever exercised again.”

“You sound like my doctor,” I said with a snarl. “And when I say incapable, it is in regards to things I want to do.”

“Such as?” God asked. There was some excitement to his tone, but all I could do was stare at air molecules (if there’s air in Heaven—wait, where the hell am I, exactly?  Meh.).

“I don’t know anymore,” I admitted with a soft and hollow voice.

“Then you’re not incapable!” God beamed.  His positivity felt like sunshine.

“I’m not following.”

“You can’t be incapable if you’re not doing anything!”

“I know what you’re doing.  You’re going to say until I know what I want to do, I shouldn’t call myself incapable. There’s nothing yet to prove my capabilities for.”

“No, that’s not what I’m doing,” God clarified. “You feel like an oddball in a mosaic of square pawns right now, yes?”

“I suppose so.”

“Then set the board up and play!  Project yourself into the world!”

“But what am I supposed to do?” I asked with desperation.  “Nothing is ‘wrong’ but these spells I go into… they need to stop.  I need to be stronger than this.”

“Stronger than what?”

“Need to get my shit together!  I’ve been searching for something to jump-start my life,” and I shook my head and sighed, then I shrugged my shoulders, and then I sighed, “Thought I found what I needed until the discovery of a boyfriend.”

God’s head shot up and his unibrow furrowed on the right side.  “Is that what this is all about?”

“No, no, no,” I explained.  “Well, yes.  A bit.”

“A bit?” He reinforced.

“It’s more her than him.”

“How much of this burden comes from her?” God inquired.

“No burden.  She’s not that,” I pointed out.

“Then what is she?” God asked, and I didn’t know what to say.  I didn’t know what to do, so I just began to talk and allowed the words to just fumble out.

“A very difficult learning experience,” I began. “I don’t know what she is, but she somehow makes my rusty gears turn and reminds me that I didn’t always prefer things so easy and lazy.  There’s mountains of potential in her, and it makes me remember all those castles I’ve built up in the sky and let float away.  I need to start something and make it work, and make it better.  Something unique, something as memorable as it is virtuous.  Her view of the world is refreshing compared to mine, and she laughs like a little girl, but in the cute way, you know?”

“Dude.  Slow down,” God said slowly.  “I don’t see a microphone and a stool, so don’t turn this into a white-boy poetry slam.”

“You asked me what she is, what the hell did you expect?  ‘She’s a healthy Homo sapiens with advantageous cranium power?’”

“My expectations are that you will be feeling better about yourself and your situation in life after we’re done.  Trying to work out this mental knot in your brain is a daunting undertaking,” spoke God.   “Are you trying to find meaning in your life from your self-tormenting?  If so, I may as well throw you in the fireplace and let you figure it out from there!”  God leaned forward and smiled, “Real quick secret—the wood in that fireplace came from the burning bush!”

“Really?” I asked with a sense of interest.  “ I mean—no!  I’ve gone through that phase of life and I think there are better ways of discovering meaning.  Can’t you just snap your fingers and solve all my problems?”

God flinched at the question.  “No.  First of all, that’s taking the easy way out.  Second, I don’t work that way.  Third, this whole conversation is going on in your head.  Remember?  I’m not real!  You don’t believe I’m real.  To you, I’m just a thought: a metaphor that transcends all transcendence.  The Goddess, however, ah yes… she is of flesh, no?”

“So I like to believe.  I don’t know about any of this.  The idea of you just snapping your fingers and making everything better sounds like a tempting solution to all my feeble woes.”

“Tempting?” God asked rather tersely.

“Maybe you don’t understand temptation like we do.”

“Like you wise mortals?” God said with sarcasm in his tone, “Maybe.  And maybe you don’t understand temptation like I do.  Beware of temptation.  It is a lush and beautiful tropical island with no food or water, and no exits.  You will starve away your decency in temptation, unless you can’t control yourself and die from it.”

“That’s your view of temptation?” I asked with a sense of befuddlement.

“I don’t like it because it makes more mischief than harmony.  Your so-called understanding of temptation does not need to be shared with me, I already know it.  But listen to me closely, and listen well: temptation will follow you throughout your life.  It is the beast that smells so inviting until you smell its vile breath, but by then you already know it’s too late.  Don’t play around with temptation; it does not play back, and there will always be payback.”

“Payback?” I asked with a sense of greater befuddlement.

“Your debt will not be that of dollars, but in the currency of memories,” God continued, “Memories of what could have been if you weren’t so selfish.”

“Is this coming from observation?” I asked after a steady pause, “Or from experience?”

“Neither,” God answered.  “This is from the heart, not something that just became unstuck in my head, eh?”

Mafdet woke up and jumped off my lap and then jumped onto God’s lap.  God saw me look down at my empty lap, and with the snap of His fingers, a baby pygmy hippopotamus appeared before my very eyes (and damn near broke my hip).  It immediately began to make some kind of noise that you would not expect to come from a baby pygmy hippopotamus (since, like, everyone knows what they sound like).  Then the baby hippo began to walk on my crotch, and my crotch quickly grew tired of the hippo’s company—very quickly.

“Couldn’t you have given me anything lighter to play with?” I asked God.  Without saying a word, God snapped his fingers and a pair of wings appeared on the baby pygmy hippopotamus, and it quickly took to the skies, squealing or squawking or barking or talking or whatever it did to make noise, it did a lot of it.  Although I couldn’t understand what the hippo was saying, he sounded really happy with those wings.  I looked in front of me to see God and two kittens looking up, all three their heads tilted ever so slightly to the right, watching a baby pygmy hippopotamus fly.  I looked up and smiled, wondering what that hippo has to be thinking about right now.  (The hippo, as it turns out, was thinking that his first order of business with the wings ought to be to poop on a statue.  As it would also turn out, it would take the hippopotamus two years to find a suitable statue, but well worth the wait!  Unfortunately, the Statue of Liberty is once again closed to the public so it may be cleaned.)  God was laughing at what was above Him, and I started to understand.  There is a baby pygmy hippopotamus with wings, flying above me right now.  Not everything has to make sense.  Maybe Mafdet was right, there is no answer to my question.

“Thanks for the advice,” I said warmly.

“What are friends for?” God asked as a baby sphinx jumped from behind God’s chair and stretched itself across the top of the chair.  I wondered if this was a riddle, and then the sphinx winked at me.  What are friends for, indeed.

“What’s she like as a friend?” God asked with curiosity.

“Friendly,” I answered.

“Friendly?”

“Friendly!”

“Friendly?”  God asked in a tone that would stop a lightning bolt.

“It hurts,” I confessed.

“Why?” He asked me.

“Like you don’t know,” I said, trying to dodge the question.

“I’m not a mind reader, I don’t work like that.  If you were listening to me earlier you would have known that,” He said.  I’ll give Him credit, He is good, to which He added, “Yeah, I am good.  Really good!  Thank you for noticing!  But getting back to the question at hand:  I think you know it; you just don’t want to admit it.  Doubt is allowed in your head, but once it’s outside it suddenly becomes real.”

“She’s too much.”

“And don’t generalize it!” He said.   “Too much of what?  Too much make-up?  Too much drama?  Too much hair (down there)?  Too much confusion?  Shine some light, will you?”

“Too much of a good thing!  The more time I spend with her, the brighter she gets,” I began.  “I’m running out of words to describe her because words don’t convey what I’m feeling.  So much attraction!  She’s brilliantly beautiful and beautifully brilliant, and I think about her too much.  Or, so I think.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” God asked.

“Consequence of having too much of a good thing, you know?”

“Nope,” God said bluntly.

“I’m getting a bad feeling because I feel like I’m fading away.”

“How are you fading?  You aren’t making a lot of sense right now.”

“I know!  I—she—I don’t know.  I don’t know what I’m saying, just disregard it.”

“No, I will not disregard it!” God thundered.  “And don’t you disregard yourself!  If you can’t speak for yourself, all your relationships will be determined by how well the other person can guess what you’re thinking about.  It’s easier to explain yourself than it is for them to guess what’s going on in your head.  Your brain knows that—”

“What are you thinking about?” I interrupted God, and it left Him still and silent.  He blinked His eyes and began to twitch for a minute. Then His eyes started to change colors, and His pupils went from circular to square, square to diamond, diamond to club-shaped, club-shaped to spade-shaped, and from spade-shaped into a diprismatohexacosihecatonicosachoron, and finally settling on triangular pupils (a much simpler shape than the previous).  Sekhmet and Mafdet looked up at God and jumped off His lap.  They scampered toward me, climbed up my leg in unison, and burrowed themselves in my lap.   A chill began to slice down my spine and darkness grew as God’s eyes began to glow with what I believed to be wrath.  A gust of wind startled both me and the kittens, whom  I held onto at this point; then everything just went back to normal when God snapped his fingers and said, “I’m just fucking with you!”

“What the hell was that?” I had to ask.

“A much more interesting way to dodge a question,” God said.   “All you do is make the situation seem so obvious to the other person that they would have to be a total fool not to understand you.  A foolish folly of a fool!  Kind of a dick move if you ask me.”

“It’s obvious to me.”

“And what good is that if you’re always inside your head?” God asked.  He had a point, and I hated having to admit that.  He continued, “Your mind is beginning to bubble, so let me have my say: you know that you will not find the answers you are looking for from me.  Stop talking to yourself.  You’re talking to me instead of talking to her.  Who needs to hear this more, your imaginary friend or her?  Which do you prefer?  Again, stop talking to yourself and start talking to other people!  ”

“My mind is starting to wander,” I said while yawning.

“Then direct it!  Don’t follow it!  The man who follows a crowd will never be followed by a crowd. You just need to find your inspiration and stop making excuses!  You’re trying too hard to come up with the perfect plan.  Sometimes an imperfect action is more valuable than the perfect plan.  After all, the plan you do come up with won’t take you there, and neither will the next one.  You keep planning, and the plan keeps evolving, and you, too, have to adapt in order to thrive. No plan will ever get you from here to where you want to go.  People will plan, but never start!  They feel productive at the drawing board but can’t produce anything beyond their desk!  Going back to the drawing board is more preferable than toiling at the drawing board for all eternity, trying to perfect something wonderful that works the very first time.”

“I need to take a walk.  Walks help me think…” I said, and shut my eyes and felt a deep slumber sweep me away.  The last words God told me before I left, “Stranger danger!”  echoed throughout my head as everything dissolved back into reality.

I opened my eyes and found myself sitting under a tree.  The sun is up, the sky is blue, and—somehow—my clothes are speckled with cat hair.

I would come to find that God wasn’t merely mocking a societal maxim when he said, “Stranger danger!”  He was warning me…

Who Rules America? Power, Politics, & Social Change

Who Rules America? Power, Politics, & Social Change.

Demolition crew blows up the wrong building

Demolition crew blows up the wrong building.

Sunsets & Sunrises

Dost thou desire that feeling of passion?
To have, and be had. These moments,
Harmonious as the Spring’s awakening,
When your heart beats in rhyme with time
Between you and someone close;
To be alone within that state (or in public!),
Where feelings transcend vision, and
Sounds taste and smell sweeter than honey.
Out of the ordinary and surpassing sublime,
I knew all of this, when I saw you smile.

Now, me sits here alone, staring at the stars
Writing weak words of want and wonder.
Wondering! When my rusty eyes sights thy
Light, Life, Laugh, Love… ah,
I speak too little and think too much.
Should you step into my sight
I will hold you close for all time,
And always be kind (of a jokster).
But I know of that energy—passion,
Within You Without You.
And it feels good to think of you:
Like a child on Christmas
Unwrapping a mystery that’s bound for fun.

Come! Let our worries wither away!
Let’s dance across this desert
So we can make love on a beach far away!
With you, why not? I’m happier
When we mix, for we blend well methinks.
Such a sight that fills this light
When you and I are eye to eye
The stars align in our time, and
That will be our meeting place
(Google Maps, don’t fail me now!)
I’ll know it’s you once I hear you laugh
I will be the one holding a candle
Waiting for you to Light My Fire.
So don’t be shy, be mine, and together
Let’s find tranquility amongst this turmoil,
Where we feel all right (and each other! Zing!)
I walk with an upbeat down-trot
Massage like a magician,
And think you are the woman I have to see again.
Oh, how fun it will all be!
Call it a coincidence, call it fate
But just call it a date.
Say, Friday night?