Life and Life Only: Junk Love

Been a bit since I've posted anything personal and it feels forever. It's a Sunday morning and I'm realizing that I'm missing writing a little. And I'm watching the Genesis video collection, doing laundry, charging my Zune player, and in the slow migration. Yep, for those of you reading I'm moving to a different (and better) part of town. Upside: I'm saving myself a chunk of money per month. Downside: I'm sharing an apartment. It's not about who I'm sharing it with so much as I've been in my place for the last 3 years. Yeah, I did have the “unemployed roomie” and even a girlfriend who lived with me for two weeks but really... it was still my place. We'll see how this goes and will keep you informed.

The videos are distracting. I'm watching “Invisible Touch” right now.

2010 and everything is changing all the time. Life 2.0 and I'm having to quickly pick up those things I avoided knowing and learning that I didn't in round one. Which is fine to a certain extent with some, not so much with others. Five. I shake my head as I write that. Five. I've had that many relations this year. I'm honestly surprised Guinness hasn't called me and asked “What's up?” (To which I would respond, “4 Non Blondes?”)

It's funny. A friend of mine asked what song I would come up with about her and she would return the favor. The song we shared was the acoustic version of “Plush” by Stone Temple Pilots. Sometimes, a song works for a place and time. Jennifer's song would've been “Wagon Wheel” by Old Crow Medicine Show; hers would later become “Gold Dust Woman” by Fleetwood Mac. I never really gave Lisa an entrance song but she did like listening to Coldplay (but agreed Ryan Adams was depressing). Her song after I broke up was “If You Could Read My Mind,” by Gordon Lightfoot and damned if Bob Dylan wasn't right -you really don't want a Lightfoot song to end. And if I go back far enough someone warranted “Human Touch” by Bruce Springsteen.

What am I doing this morning? Waxing laconic about the beautiful moments. Laying on my futon. Having my back kissed. Seeing a woman lie naked in my bed. Tracing my fingers along the contour of her body. Falling asleep next to her. Morning sex. Making breakfast. Baring my soul. Staring at the stars. All the good things I can keep.

Once again I'm confronted with the question: what do I want? And the bad thing about it is that unlike others who have the checklist I'm just making mine up. What do I want? The other half of my soul. The person who complements me (and complimenting works, too). Someone who makes me feel appreciated. A soul to cry into in the darkness. The rest of the knobs, buttons, levers and switches can be negotiable. Someone I can talk with and feel on the level with.

Are these ideals too ethereal? I don't know. Sometimes I feel like they are. But I've got to get better at slowing things down and taking time with having a relationship and have to set my boundaries instead of having whatever comes my way. I'm getting older and that lifestyle leaves me feeling empty after it's done.

What have I learned? First off, sex without love sucks. Physically it can be rewarding but once you've lost the deeper connection or it's not entirely there.. it's junk love. Secondly, sex is not the carrot at then end of the stick that should be dangled in front of someone's eyes. That's beyond putting all your eggs in one basket; it's hedging a bet on an implausibility. While it's noble to want to wait I'm inclined to believe that the pot o' gold at the end of the relationship rainbow is making it to the end happy. Third, women pursue sex hoping to find love and men pursue love hoping to find sex.

And that's all I got to say about that.

It's in the Suit That I Wear

Sunday? Check. Coffeshop? Check. Writing my life away? Check.

It's been fast and furious and tumultuous over on my end of life. I would ask to someone to wake me up when September ends but it's already gone. Done. I remember going to see “Machete” Labor Day weekend. I remember looking at the computer's toolbar date/time and seeing that it's October. I don't know what happened.

I'm at a stop point -that moment where the world's axis has slowed and I'm seeing what's leftover. Is it time for reclamation? Is it time for redemption? Is there anything left to salvage of a 900mph life?

“And you may ask yourself, 'Well, how did I get here?'”

Maybe I'm living life and fucking up on my own terms. Maybe I'm just learning. But then again do any of us really know or understand the consequences?

I'll stave the rest of my cryptic ramblings because I'm rambling. Because I am as hypocritically human as the next person and I want to save you the effort of breaking out the “Get to the Fucking Point” card.

I did some things that I'm not necessarily proud of. First off I wrote an article where I lambasted LouisvilleMojo for changing what they were doing, for not having the wherewithal to be progressive enough to continue what they were doing and garner the support of a community of people that for a minute could've believed in what was trying to be done. I was at a bad place, pissed-off, and detonated a literary nuclear device as opposed to just launching an angst-ridden SCUD missile. I don't regret what as I said so much as how I said it and the opinions contained therein. And I can't get that moment back. I blew up a bridge instead of burning it. The reward? It became my highest-read article on the site it got uploaded on. The cost? Feeling so alone and out in the cold I don't even think Alec Leamus would talk with me (literary ref if you don't know the name...) as well as my best friend saying that he was disappointed with me. That sucks. It really does.

And what I do, what I say, what you are sitting here and reading... there's a danger to it. Maybe it's always been that way. I can't say. I've experienced the highs and lows of it all. On the upper part of the mountain I've traveled across the U.S. writing and uploading (blogging) at nearly every stop. I've blogged “live” during the first Louisville International Festival of Film. There's nothing like it. In the mountain's valley there are those who get upset by what is written, who call you on your professionalism, who feel betrayed when they find themselves in your work (which itself is a double-edged sword, let me tell ya). The punches that come from those instances make or break you and the realization that no matter how carefully you pick your battles not all skirmishes are in your favor so you gotta pick a side and stick with it. Middle of the road opens you up to being hit on both sides...

And maybe that's something else I'm fighting: being passive-aggressive. I can't remember what exactly I was thinking but I called a friend of mine one Saturday morning. She called me back during lunch and told me that maybe I have passive-aggressive disorder. I've been cited on the fact that I generally try being “cool” and “non-confrontational” and she suggested to me a group called Emotions Anonymous. I'm considering checking in on the group and as another friend of mine states, “You can't make everyone love or like you.” Which is true. Maybe I'm just trying to find someone to make me believe I'm worth more than I think I am. Maybe I'm just looking for someone to tell me that they appreciate me.

Yeah. I know. That's probably the extent of any leaning-on that I have in this episode of the blog. Nut up or shutup. Pull up your boots. Man up. Remember to breathe.

In a moment I found part of something I was looking for: someone to listen to me. I've been talking with her about life, problems, etc. for the past week averaging at least 2 hours per conversation. Through her I found the core of my faults; the things I couldn't see. Or maybe I saw them before and wasn't paying attention. But in her I find a friend and we listen to each other and the realization hits that maybe there is something to the passive-aggressive thing and that I couldn't face Jennifer or Lisa. There's something inside that prevents me from “going off” or saying what I really think/feel in regards to a woman. I'm working on it...

Which again is interesting (I'm hating that word. Honestly) because as another friend points out I have no problem articulating what I think or feel for others to read. In person I clam up, try not saying anything, keep the peace, etc. And I'm sorry about that. Real fucking sorry. The other person gets pissed/disappointed with me, I get pissed-off at myself for not being able to communicate, etc. Jennifer and I had a joke once where we when we realized we couldn't answer a question or feared the other person would become upset by what the answer would be there was a “fake” answer. “Abraham Lincoln's beard.” It's fun for a while in order to bypass the things that need to be talked about but being at the end of relationships it's not cool. It's not respectable. I wished to hell that we had talked but I didn't know what the fuck I was doing -it was my first relationship in a period of time so long that love's search party had nearly abandoned the search. There's one helluva emotional trust issue that I have and I'm not sure on how to get past it.

So again I'm sitting here letting my body imbibe itself with the “coffeeshop smell.” The trees around are changing color and I'm gearing up to take some photos next weekend. I have at least two phone calls to make one of which is an apology and the ethereal dice roll on that is not showing me any results. And I just have to deal with what may come.

Life and Life Only: Naked Chats and Third Party Candidates

As a kid growing up adult movies were the ones in which adults talked to each other and not much else. They talked about their relationships. They talked about their love lives. They talked of the lack of either or both. But mainly there was a lot of talking going on. When you’re six years old your entertainment value is stuff blowing up, laser rifles, and maybe even “Yo, Joe!” or “Autobots, roll out!” You don’t get what the adults are saying and they’re really not doing anything about it.

One day you realize that you’re an adult and that all the talk happened to be adults knowing what they’re saying but not what they’re doing. You find yourself in a constantly changing maze in which the rules for one room do not constitute the rules for another. People you love come and go and everything is up for grabs. We find ourselves turning to others to fill needs not met by the ones we’re with.

Enter Naked Chats. It’s 1am and you’re online, talking with a friend. Both of you are tired. You strip yourself down to your flaws; your honest assessment of yourself. On the Internet talking with your friend you have no one you need to impress –you already know the person. It’s a matter of listening to what the other person has to say or is trying to say. It’s about the delicate desires residing internally that cry out to be filled from their darkness; the request blinks at you as it’s your turn to type back what you need to say. It’s a matter of the questions that maybe you’re afraid to look up in books, or that books have no answer for. Call it finding the solace of friends and relating with them on a sexual nature.

And there’s no denying the attraction to the concept. Maybe you’re attracted to the person you’re chatting with, maybe not. Imagine that cybersex meets emotional purging as much about figuring out how love works as it is fantasizing about other possibilities. Feeding our internal emotions and questions to others we receive answers and play tug-of-war with notions, eventually rewarding ourselves with fantasy.

But why naked chatting? Is it the arousal of finding out what makes the other person tick? Or is it unloading upon someone else what makes our tick, what turns us on, what works or doesn’t work for us? Is it a comfort of not seeing someone, not feeling the judgment of another person, and massively expunging the dark sensuality of our needs? Or the simplicity of cutting through the garbage shouting out a none sugar-coated or fluffed-up version of events?

As much as we need someone close to us that we feel we can talk to we need to find someone who will listen without prejudice; without knowing us. The bartender serving your beer. The woman sitting next to you at the airport. The person standing in line next to you. We can be as isolated as we want but there’s something inside that makes us want to reach out and be social. In the field of relationships, or love and sex, you don’t want to be the only person who feels the way you do. You don’t want to speak to your other, or maybe you feel that you can’t. Just like naked chats you want to be honest and forthcoming with the details but you don’t want to know the person –anonymity will give you the most honest assessment of what’s going on with you. Need to know what to do about the boyfriend/girlfriend/husband/wife/person you’re cheating with? Ask a stranger.

These releases can have conditions as well as consequences. While third party candidates are usually a one-way road naked chats are not. You get what you put in and vice-versa. The more you put in, the more you should get back and the less you do, etc. The only real drawbacks are in the amount of emotional trust that is placed in the other individual and keeping a certain level of responsibility –if the person you are naked chatting with has a significant other issues could come about none the least of which is a certain amount of addiction to the practice that could make relationship dam cracks into fissures that just get worse. As always with either responsibility has to be observed but if done right and acceptably, either could be just what you need.