Wednesday, December 14, 2011

now serving....number 47

there was a time when i could recite what i had done to celebrate every birthday, to that point. 


it's frustrating to realize that you never get too old to struggle with discovering why you're the way you are.  i've always thought of my emotional detachment to relationships and material possessions to be some sort of enlightened state.  i was like a cajun buddha, distracted only by bouts of gumbo and roast beef poboys, a bon vivant who toasted with ancient spirits (green chartruese) and whose loud personality was simply me being a thespian of life.  a person who dressed simply for a simple life and avoided the trappings of labels.

things i used to own that i can't tell you what ever became of them:

air hockey table
2000 comic books
ventroliquist dummy
several bags of marijuana
a bentwood rocker
a gold smurf statue
a yellow mustang (yes, an entire car)


now, this whole detachment from possesions has served me well.  when a hurricane like katrina comes along and washes everything into a canal, you don't spend a lot of sorry time standing around.

"someone, somewhere is making another one to replace the one i've lost",  that's what i used to say.  and i thought it came from the many times i have just let everything in my life go.


i love being the goofball, the loud class clown.  slightly irritating but laughing all the time.  i thought it was just the blossoming of my personality.  an attribute of gaining the confidence i lacked as a teenager.

and this teenager, this very one who spent his first work check on a pair of calvin klein jeans.  he's the one who realized this summer, that not having anything cute to wear while in provincetown had nothing to do with my vow of couture chasteness. 

it all had to do with celebrating and enjoying myself.

i have no problem enjoying life.  perhaps i enjoy it too much.  but somehow i never gained the ability to attach meaning to the things around me.


scott was going through some old christmas memories from a box his mother kept before her passing.  he pulled out of it a paper plate with a face drawn on it.  there was a hole in the center, so when situated on the nose of the wearer, it was held in place. 

she had written my name and the date on the lip of the plate.  i was shocked.

my mother never saved things like that.  there were many photos and stuff to remind her of the things she had been through, but we didn't hang our drawings on the refrigerator.

things this has caused:

an intense need to be noticed
the ability to make it through life without praise
an emotional distance from people and things


i just realized this.  it's not my chakras that are open which allow me to move through life unbound.  rather it is the lack of grounding which has endowed me with the ability to cry over the loss of very little.  my mother wasn't mean or unqualified to raise me.  she just never celebrated me, she was too wrapped up in herself.  kind of like how i get.


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