Thoughts From The Brown Couch

Ahh, nothing like the completion of a day. Of course, I only have two day per week, and now they are used up until the first day of the playoffs. So, work completed for the time being, I think it is time to write something a bit more optimistic than my usual bitch session.

My reason d'etre as it were? Tom Robbins. I had never heard of him until about 2 weeks ago, and now I have finished another of his books. The first was "Still Life With Woodpecker" and the second was "Skinny Legs And All." Both were excellanti n terms of plot and characters, but I do not believe that is Mr. Robbins true focus. Despite dealing with the major themes of human existence, what he really writes about is beauty. Beauty gets a bad rap, and an unfair one as a woman's ideal. Men who worry to much over beauty seem to me to be considered effette, if not downright gay. I don't understand for a moment how this happened. Beauty in life is the only thing really worth living for. Everything else is temporary at worst, and ethereal at worst. But beauty? Beauty is the soul. Beauty is every god ever worshipped, wrapped up into one. Beauty has started wars, and the drive to posess it represents all of the best and worst attributes of humanity.

Mostly, I think beauty is whats left when times turn poisonous. Imagine two people talking, imagine them laughing and crying and fighting and making love. Imagine when the good times go, and there is beauty, waiting to be admired. And, getting back to Tom Robbins, there is beauty described and evicted from the darkness and forced into the light. That is why I am grateful for Tom Robbins and his incredibly amazing writing. It is a world of beauty to fall enraptured when there isn't much to see in the world, and that is a good thing.

(post nap)

There always comes a point when knowledge becomes too clear to define, and when the vibe is increasingly dark and painful. Usually, this includes both parties, but it seems far worse and more cruel somehow when its just one. Cold voiced phone calls, being ignored, becoming the object of the joke, that is what hurts. Seems appropriate somehow. Shit, amybe it does go both ways and I am just too blind to see it anymore. Ah well.

Things to keep in mind...."Everybody's Making It Big But Me" by Dr. Hook, and Conch shells and painted sticks. There is magic everywhere....

cf

"I'm down to my last dollar in these faded old blue jeans,
So adios to Amarillo, hello New Orleans"

Goodbye Spetember, hello October. Two more months to go and it will be one year since being dumped by Andrea. A strange ten months so far, and the overall question of am I better off alone or with her, miserable, is pretty much answered. So much has changed in ten months, am I even that person anymore? It seems I have been so many places and done so much in the last ten months, but I still keep wondering where my life is going. I feel like a trainwreck, twisted and bent and burnt. She fucked me over good, and maybe I still hate her for it. I think I am a pretty good guy, and I try to be supportive and kind, dare I say loving to anyone I am with. Yet I keep getting fucked over. This merely proves once again that women want the asshole who treats them like shit over a nice guy any day of the week, and that really sucks, because I HATE that type of guy. Uh oh, I'm ranting and generalizing again, and my present situation really has nothing to do with the past. Well, the optimistic part of this is continued below.....

Of course, I am told, things could be worse. This is true. My life is nothing to brag about, but it's nothing to hide either. I figure my life is a lot like the .250 hitter, the guy who keeps trying to get up to .300 but will most likely top out at around 2.87 in a real good year. Strangely, this does not bother me. I used to believe I was destined for some sort of major deal, but now I get the feeling that I should find a small island in the Caribbean and drink rum and watch tourists and write. That would be good enough for me.

Now, that's just really being negative and cynical. There is so much I haven't seen, and I suppose I should really get a move on, figuratively. The more I think about an actual physical move, the more convinced I am that I should stay in the NRV. Let's face it, Blacksburg is a nice place, and down deep, I know I can have what I want here, even if I am still unsure as to how to get it. So that means focusing in on getting into Grad School, figuring out how to sack up and deal with life on its own terms, and not being such a fucking pussy when it comes to relationships. I have spent so much wasted time worrying about being alone, I never even considered the simple fact that I can be happy on my own. For the second time in 2 days, I'm being my own dime store shrink, but fick it, it feels good, and I think I know what I have to do.

That being said, two notes. First presidential debate is tonight, and it should be good for some laughs and a few sad grins that I am represented as an American by a man I wouldn't throw a life preserver to. I may not be the most intelligent person in the world, but it makes me ill to know that the President of my country is at best, a bit misguided, and at worst, mean spirited and as petty as a child. Well, fuck it, bring on the draft, I'm 4-F and fucking proud of it.

Second, next week is the baseball playoffs, and the Pats are gonna STOMP Buffalo on Sunday. I have writing to do, research, school stuff, and some major plotting to do with regards to grad school. My plate seems full for the time being, and it is in moments like these that trouble rears its head. I love trouble....

cf

ps - I am so ready for some fun. I think this weekend would be a perfect time for it, and I can hear my muse calling again...

cf

pps - songs of the day!!! "Out Here In The Middle" by Robert Earl Keen, "I'll Follow the Sun" by The Beatles, and "I Don't Know And I Don't Care" by Bubba himself, Jimmy Buffett. Jimmy takes good care of my ears, my flops take good care of my feet, and I will take care of the stuff between the two. Oh, and I haven't said it in a while, but Joe Henry Loves You Madly, and so do I.

cf

Some before bed thoughts from the BC.... I try not to comparison shop my nights, but lately, it really has been feast or famine. I wish this was a ride, just so I could get off, and you can take that in as many ways as you want. Granted, a life without ups and downs would be boring, and as colorless as the air we breathe. That being the case, isn't there a middle ground of existence, something a bit more gradual without being tame? I am realyl starting to question that fundamental belief that happiness is the normal state of affairs. Of ocurse, dualistically, this also means that sadness and hurt cannot be the norm either, and tonight, that is all the comfort I think I can take.

What was today? Was it a path I walked, out the front door of my apartment, down the street, onto campus, and then back again? Or was it a chain reaction of thought and action? Or maybe it was one long running battle with fear. I don't know, but it seems ever more clear that perhaps there is a different path I could be taking, or a new thought to be thunk, or maybe nothing at all. Maybe if I sit here long enough, the world will just pass on by, and I can write poems no one will ever read, and listen to music no one will ever hear. (Have we hit Satre yet? Christ almighty, you'd think this was the gulag, and even scarier, maybe it is....)

What am I getting at? Right now, nothing. I need to think, and I hear a pretty voice calling my name...

cf

Is What Changed Me

is what changed me?
am i malleable, caught and torn
off of a sharp metal edge? is it
up the stairs, off a main street in
a small town bar? or jammed up
somewhere between coastal towns
with cute names that all sell the
same beach swag and tired
dreams?

flight scares me, but in
moments of stillness,
i am more scared to
look back, see a tangled
path of grin bottles
posthumously declaring love

an army of delusions fire cannon-
shots of uncertainty, drying out
quenched fires of blackness with light,
where description cannot contain
vibrant mixtures of sound and color
making up the flaming exposition.
t-shirts and thong sandals travel north, carried
by last ditch ideas, the final wave of a crying guitar
sent forward from stone fingers

walking, waiting for a conversation
between a blind man and a lost little girl,
inelegant answers to misshapen questions,
plastic thoughts framed by wild gestures,
arguments that surge against
the elements of self control

later, empty mirrors hold the shapes
that passed before,
the unlikely combination of light
and memory, just outlines of sandy feet
that stood over the traces of pasts
always near.

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

That was from an in-class freewrite. Not sure what to do with it but perhaps it is the beginning of a longer poem, albeit with cleared up symbolism and severe editing.... Oh well, off I go....and wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee....

cf

Damn, it was hard to couple a few minutes to type with the proper inspiration to come together for this post. Nothing earth-shattering I guess, more just a quick musing before heading out the door to learn about grad school and go to class. You know, having 4 days off every week is both strangely gratifying and horrendously wasteful. Why is it so hard to get something done when you have too much time, and seemingly easier (and faster!) when time is at a premium? Arrgh...

So, good times of late. Doing my usual to keep the drama and confusion reigning in my world, and of course, my karmic punishment arrived in the form of the last tentacles of Hurricane Jeanne. Today I get the pleasure of dancing my way to class in the rain, though hopes are high a ride home may be in the offing. That seems a fitting epitaph for day to day life, "Hopes are high." It is strange to realize I am seeing the first true change from possibility to actualization. It will be fun to watch how people change in the next few years. I imagine I will change too, but I hope not that much. I don't like change....

So long for now, but a few songs to keep in mind today. "Sold" by Joe Henry, "Tessie" by Dropkick Murphy's (In honor of the Sox clinching a berth in the postseason...boys, don't break my heart again!!!) and "I Want You" by Springsteen.

"We're both too young to take that ride
the lonesome organ grinder cries
the silver saxaphone says I should refuse you
but I want you
I want you
I want you"

cf

Ness, I was thinking of you when I remembered these lyrics....as we both know, the trouble with normal is that it always gets worse....hahahahaha.

cf


"The Trouble With Normal"
by Bruce Cockburn

Strikes across the frontier and strikes for higher wage
Planet lurches to the right as ideologies engage
Suddenly it's repression, moratorium on rights
What did they think the politics of panic would invite?
Person in the street shrugs -- "Security comes first"
But the trouble with normal is it always gets worse

Callous men in business costume speak computerese
Play pinball with the Third World trying to keep it on its knees
Their single crop starvation plans put sugar in your tea
And the local Third World's kept on reservations you don't see
"It'll all go back to normal if we put our nation first"
But the trouble with normal is it always gets worse

Fashionable fascism dominates the scene
When ends don't meet it's easier to justify the means
Tenants get the dregs and landlords get the cream
As the grinding devolution of the democratic dream
Brings us men in gas masks dancing while the shells burst
The trouble with normal is it always gets worse

Tom Robbins talks of love..."Love is private and primitive and a bit on the funky and frightening side. I think of the luna card in the Tarot deck: some strange, huge crustacean, its armor glistening and its pinchers wiggling, clatters out of a pool while wild dogs howl at a bulging moon. Underneath the hearts and flowers, love is loony like that. Attempts to housebreak it, to refine it, to dress the crabs up like doves and make them sing soprano always result in thin blood. You end up with a parody. They're lots of pretty sounds that describe "like," but 'love' is more on the order of barking."

from "Still Life With Woodpecker"


Sounds good to me, and it would explain so much.....


CF

the best music for a broken heart is the same as the best music for when you feel like you could conquer the world....whatever the fuck makes you feel something that accentuates the situation at hand. Right now is kind of a bummer morning, just more of the same. I lost the first post I wrote, which was a cool compare contrast of Joe Henry ad Leonard Cohen. I was going to retype it, but at this point, what's the use?

Short discussion w/ someone special early this morning...the truly wierd thing is that I was even up. I swore Icould hear someone calling my name to wake up, and I had only been asleep since around 4:00 a.m. (Hey insomnia is a bitch, what're you going to do?) The post I lost also touched on this, but I think it bears repeating here. For me, talking to someone for the first time since a rather uncomfortable situation really tears open the old wounds. Let me just say "Right on!" to those lovely feelings of loneliness and dread. Do I sound like a woman enough yet?

Which I shouldnt even say because in these times, god fucking forbid someone accuses me of not being pro-woman enough....And further, let me say that some days, I don't feel very pro-woman. I certainly don't ever feel anti-woman, but after the latest debacle, forgive me if it takes me some time to rebuild my trust in the fairer sex.

But this morning, I am gonna listen to Joe Henry and groove my way to class. And to buy cigarettes before class, cause I am out and since my roommate is sleepin, I am gonna go steal one of hers. Don't worry, I'm a replace it later today...

Songs to keep in mind today - "Bob and Ray" by Joe Murphy, "Rusty Old American Dream" by Robert Earl Keen (or Pat Green, can't seem to pin down the writer...) and "Famous Blue Raincoat" (get the L. Cohen version, for what it's worth, I find it more honest than the one by Judy Collins.)

joe henry loves you madly,

CF

Yellow Lemons In The Sun

(V1)
Waking up completely lost under clean blue skies,
Today I’m not gonna take the time to stop and wonder why
I’m already walking, dodging lemons on the ground
Strange reminders that what’s lost isn’t always found

(C1)
The grass is getting beaten down, there’s used lemons everywhere
Drying lemons cut in half, up from the grass they stare
Like fingerprints or photographs just fragments of the past
Each can tell a story, but first they must be asked

(V2)
Barefoot off and wandering, music ringing in my ear
The sudden thought occurs to me, I’m thinking much too clear
Time to pause under a shady tree, a good place to enjoy
Watching over fairytales, amusing girls and boys

(C2)
The grass is getting beaten down, yellow lemons everywhere
Drying in the summer sun can you see them stare?
Just fingerprints or photographs, lost fragments of the past
Each lemon tells a story if you can learn to ask

(V3)
Moving on to see the sights just waiting to be seen
Thousands bathed in gleaming light as if in a dream
Each one dances burning, all melting into one
Celebrating leftover lemons under the summer sun

(C1-C2)
The grass is getting beaten down, there’s used lemons everywhere
Drying lemons cut in half, up from the grass they stare
Like fingerprints or photographs just fragments of the past
Each can tell a story, but first they must be asked
The grass is getting beaten down, yellow lemons everywhere
Drying in the summer sun can you see them stare?
Just fingerprints or photographs, lost fragments of the past
Each lemon tells a story if you can learn to ask

(V3)
So when you see a lemon staring up from beaten grass,
Take some time to daydream about the lemon you just passed
Maybe imagine sunny skies as far as the eye can see,
Or maybe stop to admire all your yellow memories

(C3)
We’ll walk on grass that’s beaten down, yellow memories everywhere,
Glistening in the summer sun we’ll together feel them stare,
Crack a smile at an old friend’s joke, and laugh at all that’s passed
Every moment is a story, and I’m so glad you asked