Religion Politics and Business
March 1st. 2008
Give anyone enough rope and they are bound to find a way to hang themselves, even if only accidentally. Rosa had beer in his afro last night. I had a bunch of business, political and religious conversations that I cannot remember. Jon got dragged out of the bar by his girlfriend. I prevented 2 different fights from happening that I was not involved in. No one threw Chris out of anywhere (for once). A couple hundred people came to see music. You and your friend tried to save my life by not letting me drive, and I am sorry for being so damn difficult about it. I am also sorry for blacking out in the back of your car. It is very difficult to be attractive and black out.
When was the last time that a look alike stopped you in front of a club and asked you for vitamins? Why would anyone throw water across a bar? Why would someone let you kiss their hand if it’s covered in soap? Why is it so hard for me to be in love? Sometimes I think I need someone to follow me around reciting a disclaimer, like the surgeon generals’ warning. I also should not be allowed to say anything to anyone unless it is in song.
I did an interview the other day where I said: “…some people were so serious that they were willing to give their lives for this music, and now looking back in retrospect, some of us have…”
I rattled that off without thinking about it. It sounds like a good story. But it wasn’t part of a story. I am not bitching about regrets. I meant that. Some of us have sacrificed any semblance of a normal life for the sake of Art, whatever that is. No that does not mean we deserve sympathy or even respect. Some of you that are still alive have given your life for the sake of what you are passionate about. Some of those have died and have been lionized for it. Maybe they are the ones that are better off.
There is this nagging desperation that somehow something, everything just isn’t worth it. There is this constant knife behind the back that there is a total loss of communication and that no one is saying anything ever. Yes we are all talking but what the hell are we saying? The second someone forgets, things cease to exist. Why do we still breathe when we aren’t thinking about it? Why do you think something is attractive?
Don’t talk about getting old. We do not age like other people. No one today grows old in a natural way unless you work on a farm. We make love in front of mirrors to see the proof that man is still an animal. We talk and say things that I don’t remember and I am afraid. How can some of us care so much about certain things ( haircuts, your home team winning the big game, interior decorating) and not really care about others (animal extinction, war crimes, racial and spiritual inequities)? My own pot calling kettles black makes me feel ill. A weather man died this last week and everyone is upset about it. We saw him every day but did we really know him?
Jimmie took me past the velvet rope last night and showed me the several hundred people dancing to disco. As we walked back into the other side of the bar, he mocked them all. I told him that there was something to be said for that because it existed. He said that it was totally irrelevant. I thought that it mattered somehow that five hundred people would want to do that together. In retrospect, I think Jimmie was right. It really doesn’t matter. They aren’t saying anything. They aren’t thinking anything. They aren’t doing anything except for drinking and dancing. But how is it possible to live life in a way that you have an experience every day that you will remember for the rest of your life?
I spent time yesterday at a fair. People were cheerful. An old time exhibit had a woman making rope from twine and giving out heavy analogies with it. Every time I walk through the carnie areas the clown in the dunk tank heckles me, calls me Elvis. The pigs in the agricultural exhibits had sunburns. People are carrying goldfish in plasic bags filled with turqoise water. You know that the fish will not live past a week. It makes you feel a little crazy for giving someone two dollars so you can throw ping pong balls into glass jars. The problem with lost innocence is that we can’t get it back. When was the last time you laid in the grass and looked at the clouds?
I used to drink because everything in the world, when you pay close attention to it seems like it is completely mad. Now when I am under the influences, it just heightens that effect, makes it all seem even more so. Too many things do not make sense, and so we, the people ignore them. When we turn our back to an anthill, it is still teeming and crawling, spooling out ants in all different directions, mindless and yet unified, attending to it’s own purpose and design that is unintelligable to us. Ignoring it makes no difference. In the back of our minds though, we still know it is there.
At the fair, there were strawberry shortcake booths set up run by churches. There were so many people enjoying simple pleasures that it was impossible to ingore. A family was all sitting around the livestock area around their prize cow. They were proud of it. Children ate fresh fried potato shavings with too much salt and malt vinegar. I talked with an old man about his collectible coins. Someone wanted to guess my age and weight. A little girl was doing handstands on the dirty concrete. Somewhere someone said that Charlie Pride was going to perform there. Most of the people there would like to hear themselves be called “folks”. They live in a quaint little town and own a piece of land. They give a damn about their families. They don’t think too much when they look at themselves in the mirror and they fear god.
I think that I have had it all wrong.
I keep having to look at old photographs to prove to myself that I have been places and done things. I keep telling people I love them to force myself to listen to those words. I never feel like I have done enough. I am never content. I am afraid of being content. What happens when a fish stops swimming and sits still? What happens when someone stops being afraid of fate and starts being afraid of time?
