A View From The Rubble
I would die a happy man listening to this.
So what, if the conductor strongly resembles
a grouper. Groupers are cool too, right?
I mean to be able to live underwater AND conduct an ORCHESTRA???
TOTAL badass.
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Recently, I feel like my faith in humanity has been hanging on by threads. And you probably read what I recently wrote about it...
It may just be the weather... This time of year in a Northern climate can be a little trying.
It's probably a combination of things. I'm probably reading too many sensationalized headlines. The political milieu certainly isn't helping. The recent massive earthquakes in Haiti and Chile were deeply disturbing, yet humbling. Reminding me how fortunate I am. That I have so much to be grateful for... I could do with a bit of a news fast though.
But, anyway... I've been in a bit of a funk that I'm having trouble shaking.
I will. Emotions are seasons and will pass. And anger, hope, despair, unabated happiness, it all passes. It just takes me some discipline and grace to ride those waves. To let happiness flow like a free river. And to cradle anger or despair like an infant. That either has its place and right just as happiness does, but I should be more gentle with them... and with myself during times like this.
So, while I've been contemplating my place in the world... Wondering why and what and IF it all matters, I received a message the other day from an old friend that I haven't spoken with in probably at least 10 years, probably more like 14 or 15. It hasn't been intentionally that long... It's just that the years go by so damn fast...
She wrote, "Friday my 8 year old was hit in a cross walk by a Hummer. I have been in the worst state of my life, as we have gone through this. She will be okay, three breaks in her pelvis, one in her foot. I've never been so scared. She is in terrible pain however, using a wheelchair and will be moving to a walker when she can. I have missed you old friend and as I have walked this path this weekend I have felt the need to cry on your shoulder as somehow I know that the depth of our friendship has been a source of soul strenghtening for me. I could use some strength, I know the lady that hit her (small town).
"We are at the Hospital right now but we will be leaving it today as she doesn't need iv's anymore. We all need to go home. What a mess I don't even know if this all makes sense. Sorry if I don't make sense as I write to you but hopefully a little of it does. I haven't had much sleep. I am going to try to catch a nap now. Thank you for being my friend, Thank you for the times you have held my hand listened to my words, given me a hug, I love you friend."
That reminded me.
That to live for one another, is where life blossoms, where it moves beyond merely breathing, into the magical realm of love. And there really isn't anything else.
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A red, red Cardinal against and immersed in a snowy backdrop. It's as beautiful and mesmerizing as anything I've ever seen...
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Lincoln was sixty years old when the doctor told him he only had forty more years to live. He didn't tell his wife, with whom he confided everything, or any of his friends, because this new revelation made him feel all alone in a way he had never experienced before. He and Rachel had been inseparable for as long as he could remember and he thought that if she knew the prognosis she would begin to feel alone, too. But Rachel could see the change in him and within a couple of days she figured out what it meant. "You're dying," she said, "aren't you?" "Yes, I'm dying," Lincoln said, "I only have forty years." "I feel you drifting away from me already," she said. "It's the drifting that kills you," Lincoln whispered.
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So, Saturday was my Birfday. The day of my Birf. The day in which I was birfed. And it was grand. I shall tell you a bit about it in a pending post, but until then, I wanted to share with you two things that two different friends shared with me for that day.
First of all, some hipster Disney Carolers singing "Happy Birfday" to me. Indirectly through another "Kevin" from Connecticut - thus the crazy "Connect-ect-ect-ect-ti-cut-cut" at the end of their rendition. But, otherwise, I'm certain that they were just singing this to me. Thanks, LeLannie!
And another friend sent this "Promissory" wisdom. And I can only imagine what heaven would come from its wide spread use.
PROMISE YOURSELF
* To be so strong that nothing can disturb your peace of mind.
* To talk health, happiness and prosperity to every person you meet.
* To make all your friends feel that there is something in them.
* To look at the sunny side of everything and make your optimism come true.
* To think only of the best, to work only for the best, and expect only the best.
* To be just as enthusiastic about the success of others as you are about your own.
* To forget the mistakes of the past and press on to the greater achievements of the future.
* To wear a cheerful countenance at all times and give every living creature you meet a smile.
* To give so much time to the improvement of yourself that you have no time to criticize others.
* To be too large for worry, too noble for anger, too strong for fear, and too happy to permit the presence of trouble.
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Here I am in the garden laughing
an old woman with heavy breasts
and a nicely mapped face
how did this happen
well that's who I wanted to be
at last... a woman
in the old style... sitting
stout thighs apart under
a big skirt... grandchild sliding
on... off my lap... a pleasant
summer perspiration
that's my old man across the yard
he's talking to the meter reader
he's telling him the world's sad story
how electricity is oil or uranium
and so forth... I tell my grandson
run over to your grandpa... ask him
to sit beside me for a minute... I
am suddenly exhausted by my desire
to kiss his sweet explaining lips
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So, a little over a week ago, Will and I went to see Tom Ford's film, "A Single Man" with our friends, Tristan and Clancy.
It was a really good film. Set in Los Angeles in the early 60's, it's very stylistic and visually compelling.
And I think Tom Ford does an excellent job of portraying the acuteness and closer scope of vision, metaphorically and literally, that we all have when tragedy strikes.
I strongly recommend seeing it at the theaters while it's out. If you haven't yet seen it, I wouldn't watch any of the clips below. But, to see the high stylization of the film, and how palpable "George's" (played by Colin Firth) heartache is on the big screen is well worth it. It will certainly lose some punch when it's viewed on a small screen, as any movie does.
After the first few minutes of the film, an older woman who was sitting in the row directly in front of us and virtually minutes away from death began talking loudly. She started, "I THINK THIS IS GAY... I THINK THIS MOVIE IS GAY... I THINK THIS MOVIE IS ABOUT GAY PEOPLE!!"
Her ultra-white-hair-covered head was bobbing up and down and turning every which way as though a wreaking ball was going to take her out at any minute. She continued on her rant for the hearing-impaired, "I'M PRETTY SURE THIS MOVIE IS GAY! I'M GOING TO SEE IF I CAN GET MY MONEY BACK!!"
She got up, climbed over 5 people, disrupting everyone and stormed out of the theater never to return. Her permanent exit had NOTHING to do with me following her and stuffing her into a garbage can in the Ladies' Restroom, if you're wondering.
We actually thought it was quite funny and we all guffawed over it.
I have always enjoyed placing the elderly into trash cans. It's a favorite past-time of mine.
So, anyway, during the film, "George and Jim's" 16 year relationship really wasn't taken seriously. Even by the people closest to them. And that was heart-breaking in its own regard.
It was a beautiful film and though it was melancholy, I didn't feel sad so much as I felt grateful. Reminded how temporary it all is... Reminded to be thankful for this very moment, for that's all we really have.
After the film, the four of us went for sushi. And at the dinner table, "Tristan and Clancy" presented us with a card, which also contained a generous gift card inside to one of our favorite shops. It was in honor of our marriage, which they felt they hadn't properly acknowledged. "Tristan and Clancy" are a heterosexual couple, if you're wondering.
We both objected, saying that they didn't have to go through any trouble and that it really wasn't necessary...
They said it wasn't any trouble and it was necessary.
Well, when we opened the card, the front of it said, "BELIEVE".
And on the inside,
"Believe in your dreams. Believe in your love. Believe in forever.
Have a Happy Marriage.
With Love Always,
Clancy and Tristan"
And suddenly, I had a hard time holding back the tears from my dampened eyes...
Some of my oldest, dearest friends (gay and straight), still refer to Will as my "boyfriend". And while I don't refer to him as my "husband", but rather as my "partner". He is. He IS my husband. And I am his.
And acknowledgment from those you love can send one's spirit SOARING. And I was reminded of that.
Thank you... THANK YOU, "Clancy and Tristan". With your belief in us, you help us to believe in ourselves. And that's the biggest gift anyone can ever give...
* "UNCLE! UNCLE!!"
* Where Love Flies
* "I Kevin, Take You Will, To Be Seven Letters..."
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It was clear when I left the party
That though I was over eighty I still had
A beautiful body. The moon shone down as it will
On moments of deep introspection. The wind held its breath.
And look, somebody left a mirror leaning against a tree.
Making sure that I was alone, I took off my shirt.
The flowers of bear grass nodded their moonwashed heads.
I took off my pants and the magpies circled the redwoods.
Down in the valley the creaking river was flowing once more.
How strange that I should stand in the wilds alone with my body.
I know what you are thinking. I was like you once. But now
With so much before me, so many emerald trees, and
Weed-whitened fields, mountains and lakes, how could I not
Be only myself, this dream of flesh, from moment to moment?
~ Mark Strand (b. 1934)
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So, none other than our dashing correspondent in D.C., Dickie (Thanks, Dickie!), sent this video clip to me yesterday and he wrote, "I LOOK MORE LIKE JESSICA RABBIT!"
He's right. And of course, he looks nothing like "Jessica Rabbit". But, he does look more like her than the poor thing up there in that video.
When I showed Will this video, he inquired, "Now, she hasn't had the surgery yet, right?"
I'm afraid so...
Just like that pint sized disaster in yesterday's post, the one posing with the Cabbage Patch Kid in her school pictures? Yeah... That one. This woman's so damn happy about even possibly looking like Jessica Rabbit to people with cataracts, SHE's practically farting sprinkles. And you KNOW how reluctant I am to discourage people from farting sprinkles...
At first I was staring dumbfounded thinking, is this for REAL? Is SHE FOR REAL? DOES SHE REALLY THINK SHE LOOKS LIKE JESSICA RABBIT???
She does.
And my heart hurt a little...
Here, of course, is THE
Jessica Rabbit. In all her glorious illustration.
And here's one poser,
a fairly good one too. SMOKIN', in fact.
And then, there's Miss Annette Edwards
Before (with one of her prize-winning bunnies - and word on the beat is she likes to rub her bunnies on her kitty when no one's looking)
And after...
Good lord... This poor thing... I keep holding the laptop away from me and purposely blurring my vision and then I think, she would actually look like her if I smeared vaseline on my eyeballs. Maybe she should only grant interviews if they smear vaseline on the camera lenses. That might be one solution. And she should never just sit down and NOT hold her breasts up with one arm. Not in front of the camera, you know... I mean, in that video clip up top, her boobs were in her lap.
I mean really... come on. Wynonna Judd
looks more like Jessica Rabbit.
And even SHE
thinks it's funny.
That sweet, crazy, delusional thing looks like a cross between
Tootsie
And
Sir Winston Churchill.
Miss Edwards was relatively attractive to begin with. The plastic surgery just seems a little severe.
I'm all for doing what really makes us happy. Truly, I am. But... I just dunno. At the risk of sounding horribly judgmental, I just don't think this is it. I don't think anything outside of ourselves will ever make us happy. Not truly happy.
If you're not happy without it, you're not going to be happy with it.
Then again, it's her path to take, teetering on her heels with her bad back and all. So, maybe I should just shut my pie-hole and let her walk.
But, I can't help thinking, when are we okay just the way we are?
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Here's hoping you're not stuck somewhere, literally OR figuratively. If the former is true, hopefully it's fleeting. And if the later IS true, what better time than now to get unstuck, yes?
Because if you don't show up to your own party... someday soon, someone's gonna be pissed. Or at the very least, disappointed... And I'm talking about yourself. There's nothing worse than being disappointed in oneself. KNOWING that you can do better... in whatever that may be. And then, not doing it because of fear... or doubt. And I only say this because I know this bullshit song and dance number by heart. And frankly, I'm rather sick and tired of that tune.
So, care to join me, bishes? It IS New Year's Day after all. And while we don't have to be perfect, we can at least try a little. So what if we fall a few times? Failure can suck it. We'll just get back up and try again.
Can you tell I'm trying to convince myself as much as I'm trying to convince you? Well, I am. And I want to convince both of us that this isn't a dress rehearsal. And whether it's New Year's Day or not, there's no better time than right NOW.
This New Year's video-clip contribution comes to us from our dashing correspondent in D.C., Dickie! Thanks, Dickie! Happy New Year's, baby. I hope it's your best one yet.
And then of course, there's THIS scene... Which is well worth the 17 seconds.
From the movie 200 Cigarettes
Director: Risa Bramon Garcia
Writer: Shana Larsen
Release Date: 26 February 1999 (USA)
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So, this morning I'm convinced that the meaning of life is...
to enjoy it.
Don't ask me tomorrow, I may change my mind. But, I'm going to jump for now.
"I CAME TO GET DOWN
I CAME TO GET DOWN
SO GET OUT YOUR SEATS AND JUMP AROUND
JUMP AROUND
JUMP AROUND
JUMP AROUND
JUMP UP JUMP UP AND GET DOWN.
JUMP JUMP JUMP JUMP JUMP JUMP
JUMP JUMP JUMP JUMP JUMP JUMP
JUMP JUMP JUMP JUMP JUMP JUMP
I'LL SERVE YOUR ASS LIKE JOHN MACENROE
IF YOUR STEPS UP, I'M SMACKING THE HO
WORD TO YOUR MOMS I CAME TO DROP BOMBS
I GOT MORE RHYMES THAN THE BIBLE'S GOT PSALMS"
Enjoy it, bishes. Enjoy it today, because that's all we've really got. So, BE where you're at. And I have a feeling that if you can do that, you'll be happier than you think.
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In the last few weeks, I've had more rejections than the Vatican at a Day Care Center.
I know. That's A LOT.
So the other day, I found myself just staring into the pond, mesmerized by the fish swimming about. It was like they had me in a trance and I was stupefied.
I stared to the point where I almost began drooling on myself.
I often wish I could make money staring and procrastinating. I'm SO FRICKING GOOD at both of them, DAMN IT! I know that it SEEMS these would go hand-in-hand, but that's not always the case.
I'm a double threat. (And if I could add drooling, I'd be a triple threat!)
I can just see it now. I overhear the assistant while I'm sitting out front waiting for my interview/audition, "Kevin Charnas is here to see you. HE'S the one that's really good at staring AND procrastinating... ... I KNOW, SIR! It's pretty unbelievable. I'll send him right in. And try not to be intimidated, sir... because he's also really hot too and appears to have a super, smokin' rock-star/porn-star ass. But, he also seems really nice and approachable. Good luck, sir!"
He comes out and starts to slightly tremble before he talks to me, "Hi... Kevin? You can go on in... It's really a pleasure to meet you."
I smile and shake his hand, thanking him. I go ahead, slightly dazed with power, and wink at him. His panties pop off under his trousers unbeknownst to me or the room full of people. As I walk into the room for my interview, I turn to close the door and see the assistant (now pantie-less) slack-jawed mesmerized by my super, smokin' rock-star/porn-star ass. I wink again and his bra pops off and his knees start to give way.
As I walk into the interview/audition with "Sir". It appears as though he's searching for ground momentarily. He regains his composure rather quickly, to his credit, and says, "So... Mr. Charnas. It says here that you're proficient in staring AND procrastinating. Wow. That's quite a claim."
And I just look at him with a rather prolonged gaze and wait to reply, demonstrating my brilliant traits. Because really, there's no influence like an example, right? Am I right? So, after he starts to break a sweat and tug at his collar, I nonchalantly reply, "Well, that's what they say."
God. No wonder I keep getting rejections.
So, the other day, after repeatedly being smacked down, I was staring into the pond feeling dejected and looking baked.
I thought, we should make this legitimate and I should actually GET baked.
So, I did.
I got high for the first time in I don't know how long. It had been AT LEAST 3 days.
NO! I'm kidding.
Maybe more like 4 days.
NO! I'm kidding again.
Okay, 5.
HA! Okay, okay... Seriously. I hadn't smoked in probably 2 years.
So, I puffed and I puffed and I blew my brains gone.
And then, I had a reason to just stare. But now, I was giggling too, so that part was cool.
The gold finches were flying and landing on the cone flowers and I'd giggle.
Then, the butterflies were landing on the butterfly bushes and getting drunk on its nectar and I'd giggle.
And then, the dogs were rambunctious and frolicking and I'd giggle... Actually, I was guffawing at this point.
I'm certain that I looked retarded. But, I didn't care. I never care that I look retarded.
Then, I forgot I was outside and it was dark. And I actually was retarded.
So, I went INside, which felt as though it took me 10 minutes to walk 20 feet into the house. So, I walked into the Kitchen where Will was slaving away on dinner. And I forgot that I was staring at him when he stopped what he was doing and inquired, "Are you high?"
And I just looked at him with a rather prolonged gaze and waited to reply, demonstrating my brilliant traits of staring and procrastination. Because really, there's no influence like an example, right? Actually, I was just trying to get the words from my brain to my mouth, which felt like it took another 10 minutes and replied, "I think so. I forgot I was outside."
He just went back to cooking and I went back to staring at him eventually forgetting that I was staring at him again until he broke my reverie by getting all exasperated and handing me a big box of graham crackers. Which was like fucking gold.
I ran off into the other room like I was a hound-dog that just received a T-bone steak and proceeded to devour the graham crackers to the point of choking. So, what did I use to wash down the graham crackers that I was choking on you ask? More graham crackers of course!
All I cared about at that moment were those graham crackers. And at that moment, that's all I should've cared about. The rejections were over with. Done. Finished. Sayonara, motherfuckers!
And even though I was "baked", it burned away the crap, it reminded me that if I get too bogged down by what happened yesterday, or last week, or 10 years ago, I'm missing right now. I missing what's right in front of me.
And really, that's all we've got.
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Here is the ancient floor,
Footworn and hollowed and thin,
Here was the former door
Where the dead feet walked in.
She sat here in her chair,
Smiling into the fire;
He who played stood there,
Bowing it higher and higher.
Childlike, I danced in a dream;
Blessings emblazoned that day;
Everything glowed with a gleam;
Yet we were looking away!
- Thomas Hardy (1840 - 1928)
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