It's intense, man, this life.
A friend was in town and we visited tonight. He beautiful girlfriend needs to break up with him, but he is going to have to fly from Humboldt County to Rochester to see her so that he can initiate the conversation. He's sad, but he's better than before. I think he may be opening up to life's mysteries.
Over and over Noah told me how he really needed to see me, he told me I was one of his best friends. We reminisced about some of the times we did crazy shit, and he told me he had a hard time with the danielle breakup and I told him how I gave a speech at the wedding that he missed, sharing every one of my relationships with all of my other relations.
We got back to the basics: never strive for permanence, don't want things you can't have, own your reality, and more of the like. We gave eyes to a pair of girls nearby and they played along, though they never suggested we should hope for any more. One of the girls put her coat on one of the two empty stools, and we took this as meaning that they didn't want us to sit with them. They did us a favor, though, because we would have been obliged to visit with them had they invited us, and we had much more important affairs to address.
The night gave us the chance to create a metaphor to explain my desire to never be a dick and yet somehow end up being a dick. The night gave us a chance to explore a metaphor of how Noah wants beautiful women and how they have the power to hurt him.
The mystery, itself, man, is what you should always desire. Noah is going to New York to break up with this chick, and he's now prepared to do that. Me, I just got to be flattered by a guy who really listened to my bullshit stories and views and ideas. It doesn't matter about whether they were heard, agreed with, or validated in any way. I don't need to be right, and if I'm wrong, that won't matter either. The whole purpose of these weird ideas and all this work towards a philosophy, in THIS case, was for me to get to enjoy sharing it. I could have collected rocks then shared them with someone who also collected rocks. But instead, we talked of life's mystery and Noah was impressed with my collection of quirky thoughts.
Monday, March 11, 2013
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fucking mystery. yes. goddamn. everybody wants a playbook and data and charts these days. few in the west know what it means anymore to live in mystery. no doubt this conversation you had was an important and powerful one.
ReplyDeletewhen men can again speak of a world shot through with myth and heroes and warring gods, then we'll be somewhere.
A great dance when words are shared, a ballet that continues and grows more beautiful as the dancers grow more exhausted and extend themselves in the sharing of sound and idea. Sometimes it is just the melody of a good friend, of a good heart, the sweetest music.
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