Art Attack Central
Fixing stuff, myself included…
Attila the Hun
Got to get myself “psyched up” to start the process of data collection today! If you’ve been here before and read the last few posts, you know that I’m not in the best of spirits. The “old graduate student hat” (prior post) is too large for this shrinking head at the moment. Not even exorcism can put the fire back in the pan, or realign my brain cells in a manner more pleasing. If you know any good jokes leave them in the comments, I need a good laugh, or at the very least to feel less serious in matters concerning the heart. Thus marching heartlessly into the future disguised as Attila the Hun (there’s a Baltimorism there somewhere) she was unrecognizable to all she encountered.
Okay hon, where are you going with this?
To hell in a hon basket I guess. When you ask for your steak rare and it comes well done, the waitress will try to hon you out of doing anything about it. And they call this charm city. Well this snake just ain’t having it well done, but then again perhaps it’s one of those rare occasions when unbeknownst to you I’ve pulled a fast one.
“Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within.”
–James Baldwin
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Nowhere to go
No amount of wailing, or ranting and raving will change the nature of my current circumstance. The next time I make a reference to my lover, someone should give me a good shaking and ask me if I’m really ready to handle the emotional trauma/drama of life in the love lane. The exit ramp is like walking into a wind tunnel with a high chill factor figured in. Traveling at the speed of light can lead to breathlessness, or it can leave one gasping for air.
So which is it?
Gasping for air as I break through the surface of the water. I came up way too fast, and I’ve got the bends as in gone round the bend. No amount of decompression can stop the tiny bubbles of desire from roaming randomly throughout my body.
“Fear is that little darkroom where negatives are developed.”
–Michael Pritchard
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Destinations
They (the big they) say, “it’s not where your going, but rather the getting there”, or “it’s not the destination that’s important, it’s the journey.” Why is it we keep thinking there’s somewhere to go?
- go to it
- go for it
- go @ it
- go away
- go girl
- go mad
- go any minute
- go halves
- go about it
This only goes to prove my point, and the point is this: After we’ve gotten “there” we’ve forgotten (all forms of go by the way) why we came. I think it’s a verb thing. Verbs are in, and nouns are so out, and that’s why it’s the in and outs that count, but then again perhaps only the folks who are counting make a difference.
Have you gone around the bend or what?
That wouldn’t be much of a destination, but I could console myself with the beauty of the trip.
Where are you going with this?
Would you believe, been there done that? No, I didn’t think so. Well, the proof is in the pudding then… No. Okay I’m going to see my lover @ 3:00 and I’m a wee bit nervous, because we’ve not seen each other since I revealed this URL and…
Back home @ 3:45
Need I say more? NOT happening soooooo… it’s over for good this time. You’ll find no more confessions of confusion here. The Love Testing Machine spit out it’s final answer and it wasn’t the one I was looking for!
“Everyone is kneaded out of the same dough but not baked in the same oven.”
–Yiddish Proverb
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Renovation
Faulty wiring, yes I think that’s what I came here with. According to some it’s the hardwiring that makes a difference, and others will tell you it’s the environment. If you feel like you’ve shorted out, (I’m not referring to midgets and dwarfs) then you better call the electrician pronto. Do make sure that he or she is qualified to delve into matters most delicate. Some wires are better left, or right in place. Accepting the logic that follows naturally from the hardwiring argument is counter productive/irrational in terms of living in a cohesive society (i.e. “I was born bad, and therefore I’m not responsible for anything I do”).
So what?
Imagine if you can, a town where the only available therapist is a behaviorist. A hard nosed thick skinned (skinnarian), a mad electrician with power to burn, he would be somewhere between Stanley Millgram and a character out of The Magus. You are a newcomer to this town and desperately in search of a therapist; a replacement for that the oh so nice Rogerian you left behind. Each individual you encounter makes you feel more and more like George Bailey when he discovers that Bedford Falls is Pottersville, but you’re alone here with no Clarence to wake you up at the proper moment.
Okkkkkkay already, I’m there. Now what?
Alrighty then, you admit that you feel like the new woman in the Stepford Wives, who’s questioning the motives of everyone. Well, sounds like you definitely need a therapist; you’ve bloghopped, or is it bloghobbled yourself into a dicey position, only to find that the road leads back to the electrician.
“Humor is perhaps a sense of intellectual perspective: an awareness that some things are really important, others not; and that the two kinds are most oddly jumbled in everyday affairs.”
–Christopher Morley
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Alien Nature
Survival in a world of extroverts is a complex task, which can sometimes leave the introvert in a state of suspended animation. Rather like a cryogenics wake-up call, you find yourself in totally unfamiliar territory. On the other hand, you might awake to a world turned in on itself. Everyone hurrying here and there with eyes averted. All men created equally alone on a train full of riders staring straight ahead, not noticing the twists and turns of track are an endless circle. Those of us who are introverts from the past will soon understand the value of the extroverts we sometimes took for granted and perhaps even disdained in our former lives. Now surrounded by folks like ourselves with a natural inclination to isolate from others, the value of the nature of the extrovert is quite clear.
It’s easy to imagine a love relationship between an introvert and an extrovert, or between an extrovert and another extrovert (although the competition can be deadly), but can you imagine what would pass for a love relationship between two introverts. Both of the poor dears expecting the other to be mind reader, and neither one willing to reveal anything without being prompted. What we need here is emotional viagra (prior post).
Viagra again, are you horny or what?
You know they have 12 step programs for everything these days.
- 12 steps to larger breasts
- 12 steps to orgasm
- 12 steps to better understanding
- 12 steps to becoming…
- 12 steps to riches
- 12 steps for bitches
- 12 steps to blogging
- 12 steps to MPD
- 12 steps to imortality
- 12 steps to tumble down
- 12 steps go underground
- 12 steps to you name it
“All life is an experiment.”
–Ralph Waldo Emerson
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Nanotech
If you find that even the smallest things can tick you off, it’s time to purchase a new clock. The weather prediction is for 60 degrees in Baltimore, and I’m feeling about 60 degrees off center today. Just guessing, but I think that means I’d better straighten up my act.
What ARE you talking about?
Acting out is so over, so I guess I’ll be acting in a fashion more suitable to my circumstances. Circumstances being such as they are, preclude any crossing of borders. In other words things are all f—ed up.
You’re evading the issue. What things?
Kind of like, “he can shout, don’t hear you” wav from the Firesign Theater.
Later: Sometimes the smallest things can make a big difference, and I’m not talking about subtraction. I was beginning to think that I would never again hear from my lover (i.e.” things are all f—ed up”) after sending this URL (see prior post), and that I would be dragged away ranting and raving by the blog URL police. Then miraculously a letter appeared in my email account, and with a quivering finger I clicked on the mail. I discovered I’m not in the doghouse as far as I know, or at least not yet.
“Only the spoon knows what is stirring in the pot.”
–Sicilian Proverb
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