Dear Questions: When Will We be Happy?

A girl finds something after the fact: Seems the thing you wanted was closer than you thought. Though funny how you were not granted access to any part of it. ...and watched it ride by....

I'm starting to understand that it is only very late at night that I start thinking of things. The Everything, the "big things", the things people wonder about, gaping-mouthed when they're stoned. And because this kind of thinking is limited to 6:30 in the morning when I am either too tired to function, or half drunk and too tired to function, it is striking me as being a very overwhelming thing. "Big Issues" should be brought up early on in the day so that you can mull them over, consider the pros and cons of them, and feel pleasent about your momentary conclusion. Not twenty minutes before bed, when, all of a sudden, you cannot go to bed anymore, because these things are staring you in the face, asking you "why haven't you learned to meditate?" and "when are we going to solve this?', and "why don't you go sit on the roof and think about this for two hours?', and "can you really sleep if you know these things should be addressed?". Suffice it to say, it has created burn marks in my desk (see: the last post). There are no answers to the bigger questions, there is only time.

I know that when I saw the picture of the couple on their wedding day, and of all the people dancing for them, that I understood there was something out there yet to be discovered or deconstructed. Our mysteries are great and still lay before us...

I know that when I was ridding in the cab tonight something donned on me, or rather, a thought crept over me. Which is this: Why are people always asking God to not let them be so lonely?
No one seems to want to be alone. And when they are not alone, why are they always asking for a greater sence of happiness? Is the discovery of partnership not enough? Is it really just that people feel alone no matter who they are with? Is that just because we are actually alone? If that is so, couldn't people stop asking to find someone and start asking to find themselves? That's probably too much to ask. But I look around at everyone I know who is unattatched, and I see that the root of their unhappiness comes from the lack of a relationship. And I look around at everyone who is attatched, and the ones whose brains are still active seem to be searching for something beyond what they have. So what is the problem here? If god is listening, and he/she/it/whatever brings you someone to be with eventually, and you still feel a sence of longing, how are you supposed to resolve that feeling? I suppose you never do. And that is part of what keeps life moving. I guess I am just put in awe by the fact that everyone is crying to god not to be alone, and that not being alone is never enough. Maybe these are generalizations. Maybe these are common truths. All I know is what I see.

I smoked the last crackhead's cigarette. No, it was my cigarette, the crackhead just led me to it. And after she had I kissed her on the cheek, gave her a dollar, and watched her boyfriend steal five dollars from me. But they left me the key I would have otherwise lost. And they stood up for me. Her name was Chanel. She guided me through the streets, and took me under her wing, and though I know she just wanted my money (little of which I had any to give), in the end I understood her needs, and I think she understood mine. So I let them take the money. I don't know why. Because I was a white girl in a black neighborhood? Because I was too tired to argue? More likely because I knew she knew I understood the hustle, and there was an agreement there. I know that in her neighborhood I would never be ignored. Chanel hugged me, and talked to me, and shared her desires about the next day. She argueed with men behind walls of thick plexi-glass so that I could get my way. Maybe these things are the mark of a good crakchead, or maybe they are the mark of a person with needs who understands them in others. My night with the crackhead reminded me that people are capable of caring about eachother, and that their self-serving behavior is not meant to go against that care. Stephen Adley Guirgis wrote a play about it. And no one could tell it better than that.

There is a strange man asleep on my couch. Where did this man come from? To whom does he belong? Why does he not have a blanket? Isn't he uncomfortable like that? These are questions I ask myself uppon finally seeing him though he has been here all this time....

So are there other things, seemingly obvious, that have been there all this time? Is the answer to my question about why people always ask to not be alone so clear and present that the question is null? Is the answer a sleeping man on the couch? That is a ridiculous way to frame it. But these questions themselves are somewhat ridiculous. Especially for a "blog". Oh, we are so heady. Such an intellectual people. Wow. Give us an award.

But my phone today, called an exboyfriend, while sitting in my bag, bouncing against my leg as I walked to work. Uppon noticing this, I promptly hung up the phone, and thought about the coincidence of my phone randomly choosing that number out of all numbers. Such a slight chance. Being someone that believes in dreams, and supersitions, I thought, maybe, does that mean something? And then I went to work, and thought about all of the things that happened that could be more than coincidence in that night. And why something so appropriate can seem so foreign. And why something so unfinnished can be too big to finnish. And why girls are the biggest dickheads at bars who never feel a need to tip you. And oh, I'm sorry, I forgot about your inherent entitlement to get whatever you want. Here. Have it. But no. It's not the time to talk about the job...

Just, it's just, there are so many questions.

When will we be happy? When will we be truely happy? What does this take? Are we capable of overcoming ourselves to make it happen? How many people actually feel happy to be alive? Well, how many people actually think about it? How many people aren't affraid to admit it? It's very uncool, you know, to admit you care about being alive, unless of course you have some issue attatched to it. "I care about life, only because, you know, the dolfins are dieing, man".

This is too long. This is too long already. Like everything else and all my questions that are all trying to be framed in the ideology of the landsape of a native american reservation somewhere in Montana. You probaby don't know what this means. You probably haven't even read this far. If we could go to Montana I would show you what I mean. If you have ever been on a horse you might know what I mean. Though, at this point, I couldn't ride one long enough to justify this blog.

I just want to know: When will we be happy? When will we know we are happy? and when will we stop asking for more happiness? when will we appreciate the happiness we have? Can we do that now?

I will go to sleep, but I will never put myself to bed...

How one Idea is 1000

He cut all his exgirlfriends out of his photos.

I question the rationale of there only being 24 hours in a day. I look at my exboyfriends. They look the same, though some fatter. I look at my bowl of soup. It looks so big for just being soup. I swear off reading articles about people I respect for reasons that will not make sense to anyone to explain. I feel good about this. I ask the timeless question: how much sleeping can I do before I have to wake up? The timeless answer: too little. I question why I like this religious music so much if I am not a religious man. I think perhaps I should stop reffering to myself as a man. I consider pen names: so many family names that should be used, & so many instances one wants to disguise themself. I study the trails of ash on my plywood desk. They have ground themselves in there forever as some sort of worm work reminder of what I've done. I wonder about what would have happened if my mother had presured me to continue playing the violin instead of letting me stop because I was too lazy to practice. Perhaps I could have been a better person, or perhaps I would still be wearing stirrup pants & writing songs about recycling. Not that there is anything wrong with recycling. Despite myself I keep remembering a dream--well, many dreams--but one dream in particular. I wish I knew more and could determine wether or not it meant anything. This makes me wonder wether things would be less complicated if I did not posess a body that was made to carry children. This body brings hormonal complication. I return again to an idea that my grandfather is not going to live forever, and though it is being highlighted by these current events on the opposite coast, I am not capable of fully believing it is real. Because what can one do from over here. What can one do to accept that idea. This one, so far, cannot.

I had some great conclusion here, which I have lost. Better to leave it that way. Leave it lost. Do you ever stand on the highest part of the roof and think of flying? What could we do if we could fly? ....Things would be so different. Let's got to Savannah in the fall. Go to Denver, and then Savannah. That one accidental beach. We will find it again, even if we only find something yards away.

Little peices of road feed me, so I am always full. And I am always hungary. And I have never been so stationary. Let us move....Always let us move....

Dear Things We Can Review

At 7 in the morning, after coming home from work and writing a letter to my very beautiful sister, something has been sitting with me. I met a person tonight whom I felt very affected by long after they had gone. Such a short ammount of time of them being there, and so little information exchanged, and yet their energy was somehow powerful, and refreshing, and lingered.

I believe that there are tiny angels everywhere. And we can never guess when they will come into our view, and how that one moment they were there will somehow be the right moment. It is a very powerful thing. After a week of discovery and rejoicing, this odd little encounter felt so appropriate as an end.

There isn't much more to say, except, I am glad that what has happened so far has happened. And that there was that person to remind me of light. Things are not as bad as they seem. We just have to remember there are tiny angels everywhere. And the things that keep us feeling trapped are not so dificult to alter. Sometimes all it takes is an unexpected shift of perspective. And remembering yourself. And hearing the most beautiful music you've ever heard. And accepting that you don't need to apologize for the things that you love. And I love so many things.

I am completely speechless.

SUFFOLK COUNTY
SOCIETY FOR THE PREVENTION OF CRUELTY TO ANIMALS
PRESS RELEASE
July 16, 2007

Suffolk County SPCA CONTACT: ROY GROSS
Your Local SPCA Serving Suffolk County 631-382-SPCA
363 Route 111 (7722)
Smithtown, NY11787

The Suffolk County SPCA is offering a $5,000.00 reward for information leading to the arrest and conviction of the person or persons responsible for tying a dog to a tree in Brentwood, NY, and setting fire to it.

The dog, a male pit bull, was found on Thursday July 12th with second and third degree burns over 60% of his body; severe third degree burns of his face and ears; degloving wounds of his upper palate including the loss of canine and incisor teeth. The dog also had puncture wounds of his neck and emergency veterinarians treating him detected an odor of gasoline on his hair.

Emergency Veterinarians have named the dog "Maximus," according to Chief Roy Gross of the Suffolk County SPCA. "Even after what he's been through, Maximus still tried to wag his tail when he saw people enter his isolation area," said Chief Gross. Maximus hadn't lost his bond with humans. Emergency care personnel said that Maximus was trying to eat on his own and wanted to play with other dogs when he saw them.

Anyone with information is asked to call the Suffolk County SPCA at 631-382-SPCA. All calls will be kept confidential.

The Suffolk County SPCA is not affiliated with, a subdivision of, or funded by any other local, state or national humane organization.

Suffolk County SPCA
363 Route 111
Smithtown, New York 11787
631-382-SPCA (voice)
631-382-4042 (fax)
THE RESCUE COMMUNITY MOURNS THE DEATH OF THIS INNOCENT, HELPLESS DOG..OUR HEARTS ARE W/ THE GOOD PEOPLE, WHO LOVE ANIMALS ON L.I.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

...The dog passed away Monday night. The SPCA is offering a $ 5,000 reward for any information leading up to the arrest of person(s) involved with the crime.

I don't know what to say. It angers me so greatly to know that these kinds of things happen. I am without words. This is sick.

Humans are supposed to be more evolved than other species. This is what they do with it?

Dear Gimme the Loot OR Issues of Consumption

First, I just have to say that sometimes certain things always remind you of someone, no matter how removed from you they might presently be. I can't say the afforementioned phrase without immediately being reminded of one specific person and so many stories that come with them. Odd that...

I love clothes. I love cheap clothes I love free clothes. I am like a crow with shiny things, and I am like a Gypsy with piles of free things (oh wait, I am a Gypsy...). So when I was carrying armloads of clothes through the subway, I didn't feel bad, and I felt happy. Looking at my loot at home I felt so compelled to write something I made five versions of a blog about it before settling on an unfunny one like this. Because who cares about free stuff as much as me? I almost pee myself. But that's why I'm a scavenger...

And I wasn't lieing about being a Gypsy. One of the best things about my heritage,,,turns out I come from Gypsys.

And turns out I'm sleepy. Turns out, instrumental music is the best.

The Only Living Boy in New York.

Sometimes having a really vivid fantasy is almost as good as actually doing it. Like tonight, I was riding home from work--in real life I was in the back of a cab and it was four in the morning and I hadn't made much money. But I immagined it was not so late, and I was riding my bicycle over the bridge and through the streets, and everything was panoramic and sparkling, and "The Only Living Boy in New York" was playing from the mystery soundtrack somewhere. And I immagined this so hard, that by the time I walked out if the cab down the street, I was so happy that my journey had been as full as it was. It was like I had really done it. Just goes to show, our immaginations are not only good for purple people eaters and make-believe girlfriends.

So the trick is that I seem to be coming home from work every night / morning, and getting frusterated about something before I go to bed. It would stand to reason that this is because it's the only time I get to sit alone and think--which is fine--but the end result is that I have been furvently writing about it on the internet. As if that will solve something. And I know that really, no one wants to read someone's angry blog, no matter who they are. And that's assuming anyone reads this in the first place. But the point is, I shouldn't be so bothered all the time. Or, if I am to be bothered, I should at least mix it up a little bit. With some not-so-bothered things.

So,,,tonight I was on a bike. And I was riding in a montage, and my breaks didn't squeak, and I never wobbled at the stop signs, and nothing was moving as fast and slow as me. And Simon and Garfunkel were young and singing again, and it was only for me. And eventhough I was in a taxi cab, and I am not a boy, I was the only living boy in new york, just then, for as long as I could think it. Sometimes magic is so close,,,

It's Always Something: What is Happening to Us?

People just burn out, don't they? It is looking like people get to a certain age when they take most of their dreams and interesting charecteristics and put them in a little box so they can pull them out 15 years later, show them to their kid, & say "See I was pretty cool once myself!". That's a lot of what it's looking like. Granted, I am getting older, and this nesting behavior is becoming more and more common & natural ammong my peers. But it seems to me that people get to their mid 20's, and decide they've gone far enough, and just settle down. They may not know they've decided that, but inadvertantly that's what they've done.

*Disclaimer* I do have some very good actually married & soon to be friends that are NOT like that (SB & KL, KG & N... I'm looking at you), so this is not an all inclusive idea. Just a general one.

Anyway, people seem to just get tired of trying to work towards whatever "passion" they once had, and of being mobile and active and strange and fun and of dreaming, and just give it over for wearing polar fleece and watching movies at home in all their spare time, and accepting mannagerial positions at jobs they never wanted to keep for more than 6 months.

And I don't want to judge that. I think it just kind of scares me. If people want to loose their edge before they're 30 and stop expanding their life experiences beyond the scope of stories to blip about on your myspace page and cute funny secrets that only you and your partner have, then it has to be for good reason. But I don't understand it. People used to want so much more for themselves, and now all of a sudden all they want is...this?

Perhaps one day when I find myself in a long term relationship which I believe might be life long, then I'll get what everyone is doing. But I still know that for myself I have always had things that I have to do, which move beyond mortgaging a dumpy house and pushing out babies in the prime of my life. Those things cannot be compromised by fear. To me it seems that all this settling down is exactly that--settling--and that after two to five years of "trying to make it" people get scared and burn out. Like somehow they thought that becoming sucessful at what they wanted to do would be instantaneous, once a few people saw just how good they were. Or that the fear of not actually being capable of success just overwhelmed them and they decided to cling to the nearest solid source, and not move.

Ultimately, people's personal happiness is what's most important. And if people's ideas of happiness shifts over time like this, so be it. Then it's the right thing.

But what is disheartening to me is to think back to when we were all teenagers, and people in college, and remember how dedicated people were. How driven people were to do and create and stretch themselves. And how talented they were. Those people were not like our parents & they didn't ever want to become our parents. So now if those people, one by one, give up all those things for a domestic partnership and a job they don't really love, what does it mean? Does it mean our dreams were stupid? Does it mean we were all foolish? Furthermore, does it mean that in trying to still do something with my life, I am the foolish one?

And it's those ideas that scare me. Not the polar fleece and constant tv.

Dear Questions

Connundrums:

Is it wrong to let someone do something you know they'll immediately regret without at least talking to them about it?

Is it wrong to watch porn once you're not a 14 year old boy?

How come there is such a dissconnect between people needing others so badly, and never being able to "let anyone in"?

Why is it acceptable for one sex to do some things the other can't? Are we actually that unsolvably different?

If we don't need the appendix, why are we still born with it?

If everything can be labeled as a disease or disorder, why is it still considered "normal" to not be "troubled"?

Can we ever go back to just writing eachother letters through the mail?

If people with no real talent, passion, or education can still be considered artists, does that demean it for everyone else? How can it be fought?

Does putting the label "organic" or "natural" on something actually make it more nutritious? (I would say no, but people seem to buy it anyway).

Why does taking baby steps towards something feel like not moving at all? Are we moving?

Could someone please explain to me why anyone would wear Teeva sandals in the city if they are not going Urban Hiking? (comfort doesn't count).

Is there any way to make non-opressive white people feel as proud of their histories as everyone else? Can they be proud?

How do you know a high priced call girl when you see one? I saw a young not-so-bad-looking girl last night in my bar with the poor man's Kevin Spacey, and I mean POOR--and I'm not judging entirely based on looks, because this man was sitting close to me and he was about as active as a slug after three days of salt, and this girl was laughing at all of his really bad "so a rope walks into a bar" jokes like she hadn't heard them when she was seven. I'm pretty sure she was a call girl. Or I am underestimating the things that can connect and attract people to one another, in which case this question is really rude.

Why does it feel good to stay awake until 7 in the morning, but it feels so bad to wake up at 3?

How come almost always people feel less attracted to someone if they're being pursued by them? Is interest automatically converted into desparation and clinginess?

Why are the funniest jokes the ones you tell to yourself?

Can funny looking dogs actually be taken seriously?

If you don't have any clocks does that mean time doesn't exist?

Why does Zach Braff do Wendy's commercials? Is it a joke? Does he just not care about anything?

Do people like things because they actually like them, or because it makes them a certain way by liking them?

Can I be the man without being THE MAN?

If scent really is the strongest sence tied to memory, is sound second? Because the slightest thing...

Do your idols do shameful things? Should you have idols if you're not a 14 year old boy, also watching porn?

Full circle.


I've got to plug the clock in so I can wake up. I've got to find a way to fit more of myself into my days. And less work. Less TV. More finding the answers to the connundrums and everything else, more dancing, more working (my own), more reading, more just taking whatever I have and stretch stretch stretching it as far as it will go...