“Those who attract people by their happiness and their performance are usually inexperienced. They do not know how not to be overrun and how to go away. They do not always learn about the good, the attractive, the charming, the soon-beloved, the generous, the understanding rich who have no bad qualities and who give each day the quality of a festival and who, when they have passed and taken the nourishment they needed, leave everything deader than the roots of any grass Attila’s horses’ hooves have ever scoured.” ~ Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast
(I wanna give a shoutout to my new international readers, three of them yesterday; Philippines, the UK, and Puerto Rico. Thank you folks!!! I hope you enjoy, and come back)
Be honest now, you can tell me. Does today’s opening quote sound a little cynical, or just generally, slightly, dark? I’m not quite sure what to make of it. I know upon first reading, there in the midst of my daily search for a really really cool or percipient quote, I heard the echoes and footsteps or our artificial American president, squirming through the golden halls of history, as anxious as a hare as the shadow of an eagle passes along the ground, a shadow delivered in good faith by the brilliant sun. I’ll not expand on that notion except to say that I think that the term “artificial” suits the little tyke rather well. Tally ho! I do tend to amuse myself with the stuff that comes out of my mind. I wish I could remember who it was – I think it was Ray Bradbury – who said that when they write they absorb as much information and feelings as possible, then squeeze their brain to see what comes out. For me it is a matter of self-determination . . . I don’t want friggin no one squeezing my brain except me. Or, at least, I want to get first crack at it. That said, I will step out on the deck to have a look at the cold world out there. The air temperature dipped down below freezing already this morning. I find it to be refreshing. For I can feel the stirrings of my inners hot-head and the friggin guy needs to chill. Nah, it’s nothing serious. I just get these alpha male spurts and currents slinking around in my mind at times, and being out in public, for an introvert such as myself, is, let’s just say, challenging. Busy backson.
Again, about the opening quote. Hemingway’s A Moveable Feast is one of my favorite books; quite an inspiration to me. After reading it – I was in my mid-20s – I wanted to go sip espresso at a street front cafe in Paris. Now, at age 62, I just want to go quaff a pint of Guinness in a small town pub in Ireland. Things have changed. And it wasn’t even so bad before Super Tyke became president. Them right wing Republicans like to sometimes say that Obama was just as bad, and/or Hillary would, shoulda, coulda, been much worse, and I’m like all dudes get over yourself. Such an attitude about Obama and Hillary, seems to me that them fellas, and a spare few gals, must have done shrooms down in the subway and had a really really bad trip, or something. Then they performed a dark magick ritual on the floor of the New York Stock Exchange, and Trump arose from the flames that were a result of them folks burning a little too much money trying to get the summoning to go a little faster. Sigh. Anyway, moving forward, the other most inspiring book for me, back in those days, was A Gradual Awakening, by Stephen Levine. Stephen went on to become internationally known as an expert in death and dying, helping create the hospice movement, and a beloved teacher of Buddhist ways, and stuff like that. That book, back then, was a seminal influence for me. It was about mindfulness practice, Vipassana. I once had the honor of physically embracing Stephen in front of the salad bar at Whole Foods in Santa Fe. That story would take too much time to share here this morning. Great man, great writer. Both he and Cousin Ernie changed my views on life and reality, when I was a young man. Great writers can do that for a dude. Of course I went on, a few years later, to have a freak bicycle accident, which left me to live with the after effects from an NDE and the less savory after effects of head trauma. Poor me, right? Now, dang nab it, I gotta get ready for work. I love my job, and most of the peeps I work with. And my inner troubadour adores being in the marketplace, because he loves to serve the pretty women who pass through. A smile is a smile, right?
Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.