Um...fuck.

(This post meanders a bit...skip to the bottom and click the link)

So I wonder: Do the good times, the really high highs make the bad times, the low lows, better or worse, more or less bearable?

-Highs make lows better, more bearable because you are coming from such a high that it takes more to make a low, it takes a lot to bring you down. Experiencing a good day makes you take the bad ones with a grain of salt, you know that the good is there. It’s just not there at the moment so you hang in there and cling to some optimism even though you are holding a glass half-full of shit.

-Highs make lows worse, less bearable because you are aware that you are falling from such great heights. It’s terrible to know where you could be and see that it is starkly different from where you are now. If you never have a fucking fantastic day then you really don’t know what you are missing when you have a bad day, you are blissfully unaware of just how shitty things are compared to how great they could be.

Yesterday was the high high and today was the low low. I clean when I am emotionally distraught and today I cleaned my parent’s kitchen, living room and bathroom.

I can only remember two other times that I cleaned so much, with so much vigor.

It is about control. When I am upset I feel like things are out of my hands so I clean to get my hands dirty, to make something with myself, to see results instantly, to be in control. It’s part of who I am. I find practicing an instrument, the same notes over and over, therapeutic, even comforting. I like doing yard work, gardening, building things, setting things up and taking things down. Using my body to make something artful or beautiful or even just better than it was tends to make me feel better.

I miss being in the city. I miss my friends, the subway rush, random acts of kindness, spontaneous conversations, insomniatic playgrounds (24 hour businesses), music in the tunnels underground…bleh. Today sucked and I am whining because I am too tired to clean anymore. I am done.

Wait! I just realized something: Maybe yesterday only feels like a high high because today was so shitty. Maybe the lows are the determining factors. Yesterday was good but it feels fucking amazing compared to today so I am re-writing history in my mind.

Haha. I bought a magazine about Buddhism to see if I could compassion-ize away some of today’s crappiness. I’m off to try.

Just a song before I go (laugh if you get it) : Thriller Like You've Never Seen It Before!

There is a dichotomy that needs to be addressed.

Masculine or feminine
Logical or intuitive
Methodical or emotional

Address the part or address the whole

I want to fuck in the bathroom on the train and I want to spend five hours touching you with no climax at all.

I want to be as tight as the drop beat in a hip-hop dig and I want to be as loose as a Sunday afternoon sweatshirt one would take a nap in.

I want to be red and bright in a dress for the party and I want to be blue black alone in a dark parking lot.

I want to be rough like asphalt that hits you back and soft like the skin on a baby’s side-back.

Ok now I am just having fun rhyming.

Seriously though. Can I make this work? Can I build up enough of my self to make a couple, to take my part and play it well? or will I be stuck in these one-sided adventures in my mind?

I am not sure this makes sense even to myself, just wanted to get these thoughts down before they ran away.

I was a little quiet today.

I couldn’t cry at the wake.

I couldn’t cry because my sister, my little sister, was crying and my mother could barely walk she was so overcome with grief. I needed to be there for them and I wanted to. It was more comfortable for me to support them that it was for me to feel anything. I laughed and stood awkwardly inside but when I got to my car I sat in the driver’s seat, turned the key, and couldn’t go anywhere. I had to breathe for just a moment and then I let go and cried. I cried over the steering wheel for a few moments then drew in a breath and pulled away.

This was my sister’s first wake. It was the first time in her life that someone she knew died. It was terrible to watch her go through the sadness that comes with losing someone. It makes me tear up now, just thinking about her and how she asked me what to do, how to think about death and what to wear to a wake.

Attending a wake for someone you know and love is one of those experiences in life that removes a little of your innocence.

Written a few days ago:

I can never die.

I realize this over and over. I can never die because there will never be a reason to. Things change so there is never going to be one time where I can sit with myself and justify death because I am at the end of a rope or the depth of an abyss. Things will always change and I am too much of a freaking bugger to cop out early and not see what happens next.

I want to know, so I can never die.

(I think that may sound a little dark but in my mind this realization is liberating, almost joyous. Nothing is permanent. There is always something else. There is no real up and down, we are always both…not in the middle but both up and down and in the grey all the time.)

My making sense of things, my logic, is not the same as yours so maybe there is no common ground…only ground on which you and I can stand and see each other and each other’s logic and sense that we presume to be common.

Things that I read recently that pissed me off:

1. In The Week, a weekly magazine that sums up a wide variety of news stories from media outlets all over the world, there was an article about technological advancements in artificial limbs. And I quote, “What’s driving these advances? As is often the case with technology, war.”

Thoughts:
-It makes me want to vomit that most people can’t afford these more functional artificial limbs. They are being made mostly for veterans, probably by companies funded by government officials in order to keep veterans quiet.
-Its not enough that people are suffering during times of peace. God forbid we would want to make things better for each other at times other than when its necessary.
-I’m so happy that our kids are not dying in war, they are just being physically and mentally maimed for life (sarcasm).
-I think we should not have war (in game theory it never makes sense to go to war, it only drains resources on both sides and leads to a smaller payoff), but if we do have war they should be fought with swords and shields. Death in war has become something clean and removed from our eyes. If we really saw the blood of war we would not let our government send our brothers and sisters out to hurt our other brothers and sisters.

2. In Time magazine there was an article about the Army prescribing anti-depressant drugs for soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan. One soldier’s testimonial told of a slow approaching feeling of sadness and dissociation that developed as he walked into Iraqi homes in search of his “hit” and saw little kid’s shoes at the door.

Thoughts:
-I am so pissed I can’t write.
-Ok, got it…We are drugging our soldiers into war! Not only does the government feel they have to dupe the American people into believing we are fighting for “freedom” in Iraq, now we actually have to drug people to keep them in the fight.
-When something is causing you sadness and you see a therapist, they teach you how to handle the situation and generally advise you to remove yourself from the stressor…they don’t just give you pills to pop so you can numb yourself enough to continue to interact with the stressor.

My sister just bought $70 sunglasses. Yep we are related.

I drummed last night and it was beautiful. It was like a little escape from everything that has happened this past week.

More about California and raw food and my insides later.