Home    About    Bibliography    Contact    Fiction    Links    News    Ramblings


JWR 3.29 - Think


Oh no, not me

We never lost control

You're face to face

With the man who sold the world

-David Bowie


Quick, before I lose my nerve...come closer and let me tell you to your face: I love you.  And not like a friend.  Not like anything before or ever again.  You can feel the hurt and the anger because it canít be.


Canít be what I wanted or what I imagined.  It canít be anything like we dreamed it was going to be.  In our individual minds it would have been perfect but when you start dealing with realities and real situations and our imagined unrealistic expectations, things fall apart.


If I knew then what I know now, can you imagine how differently things would have gone?  Some people say that they wouldnít change a thing if they had the chance to go back and have a do-over.  Not me.  I understand the theory of a time line, how one changed situation can have major repercussions on everything else.


What was I talking about, I had an idea, a theme in my head but it flew away.  Letís start from scratch and let me just speak from my heart for a moment.  Or several moments.  I wonít pretend like this will make sense or be funny, because it will probably not be either, but it will be what it will be.  Like writing a notation down in the dark in the middle of the night, when you look at it the next morning, you canít make it out and the lines run into each other...and all because you didnít want to disturb your sense of night.


This past weekend I went out of town to a house on a channel of a man made lake.  None of that mattered.  What mattered was I continually marveled at the reality of just how unreal it felt when the phone didnít ring once all weekend long.  I didnít watch barely a lick of TV and didnít feel like it was needed.  I sat in a hammock and read from a book of short stories which are the only kinds of books that should be read on vacation, I think.  I noticed how the houses were designed to face the water, the back yard, rather than the other way around, how our normal everyday houses are built.  Boats went back and forth all day and night, and we waved and they waved and the feelings of animosity that can be displayed on a shirt werenít there.  We drank beer and smoked Backwoods and ate food and talked and sat by a fire for hours.


Through all that and the swimming and the fishing poles and the FIBs there was that part in my head that wanted to add another person to the day and night.


In a lot of things I learn pretty quickly, but there are a few areas where the learning curve gets pretty wide for me.  Iím convinced that Iíll never really learn despite these experiences I have lived through and still live through.


What I would have done, when she tugged at my sleeve when I grabbed for the pitched of beer, was told her to fuck off or given the finger rather than the slight head incline and turn away that I did do.  All in all, I did well, not a word, not a facial expression, complete ignoration (this is not a word, I know, but you know what I mean when I say it so it gets across the same meaning and holds the same power as a real word) and that was the extent of it.  I hold grudges and Iíll hold this one until the day I die.  Drunk friends saying to forget about it donít matter, doesnít register as anything more than a buzzing noise to be mentally swatted away.


What I should have done was let that married woman do whatever she wanted.


What I should have done was not cared so much so fast.


What I should have done was kicked his ass as soon as I stumbled into the truth, then gone and kicked her ass, too.


What I should have done is worry about the now rather than the could be.


I missed a lot of stuff because of that.  A lot of stuff.


When you donít just sit and absorb what you see, when you take the time to contemplate and think on a situation, you come up with the wildest shit from the past.  I do that too much.  Just recently I blew something way out of proportion in my head and was on the verge of wanting to kick my flat mate out whenever I thought about this situation.  The conversation I held in my head got worse and worse each time I had it.  It started out with a simple question about what happened, then what did you say, then what did you say, WHAT DID YOU SAY!!!!!!!!


Thereís something mildly wrong with me, of this Iím sure.  I wonder if Iíd be put on medication, what Iíd be diagnosed with.  Maybe itís more than just a mild condition.  The anger is controllable.  So it the sadness and the happiness.  Itís all controllable, but I vaguely wonder about my blood pressure at those moments.  It is too soon to be thinking about that?  I wonder.


I hate to sound like I child with all I have, but I canít have what I really want, especially since I donít truly know what it is I want.  Iíve been here before and I convinced myself that I still wanted it though all the changes I saw, despite being slightly blown away by all of them.


The crypticness is part of the sickness, Iím sorry.  To realize it is to admit it.  I have to keep it depersonalized and abstract.  Leave me the illusions of a shelter that is in actuality a wall in the middle of nothingness.


And Iíll tell you what is wrong with the world because I sat and thought about it after the parking garage story.  Donít ask because it wonít make sense to most of you, because this is aimed at just a couple of people:




Too much concern about what people will think about something else causes problems.  You canít say the Pledge of Allegiance in schools because...


Too little concern about what people will think about something else causes problems.  You canít carry BB guns around in a parking garage as you film a movie because...


ďBadĒ neighborhoods arenít that bad and ďgoodĒ neighborhoods arenít that good.


Because we misunderstand things all the time, we are afraid, even if itís on a subconscious level.  When you go through a traumatic experience, you sit there ďmostly okayĒ waiting for the other shoe to drop and you may never be the same again.  If you see someone shot and killed right in front of you only to have that same gun leveled at you, how would you be months later?  If someone close to you, your same age, died, how could you feel about anything after that?  Iíd be scared that I could be shot at any time by anyone.  Iíd be scared that anyone could die on me at any time.


And I canít truly understand what itís like, but I can empathize and shed tears because I can feel the fear and the hurt when we share.  With that going on, Iím probably selfish to feel like I do about so many things, but


ďI'm turning away.

Away from the name

(Calling your names)

Away from the stones

(Throw sticks and stones)

'Cause I'm through mending the wounds of usĒ





P.S.: Thanks to Amy and Stummer for the surveys.  I swear to God, I thought Stummer was 35 when I first met him.  That's good stuff, man.  Hope you're enjoying the Garden State.


Copyright © 2003 John Lemut