Skip to main content

THE SEARCH IS OVER

I have no friends, other than you. You are my only friend, other than my mom. But I live with my mom. A fact I am neither proud of nor ashamed. Like having three BMs a day, it is just a part of life. And besides, she doesn't count, because she's my mom. Which, oddly enough, makes her count more than anyone else. Or in a different way.

I read in a book once that if you want to gauge your progress along the spiritual path, go live with your mother. Last a week without blowing your head off and you can pretty much say you're a sage. I've been under my mother's roof for most of the last 7 years. Hell if I'm not Jesus by now.

I once told someone that most marriages, if successful, morph into a platonic cohabitation. I skipped the marriage part and live with my mother. Am I being glib? Is to state a fact also to perpetuate it? Does happily ever after only occur in fairy tales? Are happy endings to be had only in massage parlors and with one's mother? Forget I said that.

And thank goodness, no. Because now there's you. You who patiently listen to my rants, yet don't nag me when I'm not in the mood to tell you about my day. You laugh at my jokes (so I like to think) and nod in sympathy with my concern for the world's welfare. You don't interrupt me with ironic retorts or sassy comebacks (granted, because you can't). Hell I don't even know what you look like, which may even be a good thing.

And so, my friend, to you I dedicate this song. It is by Survivor, they of "Eye of the Tiger" fame. Do not let the fact that I dedicated this same tune to my first sweetheart - Christina, back in 1986, when I was 13 years old and she a precocious 12, if precocious means "good kisser" - diminish the heartfelt profundity of its message, and the sincerity of this my sublimely humble gesture. You're in good company, because Christina was a great gal, and a really good kisser. So this is dedicated to the one I love. That's a line from another song. It's by the Shirelles. Totally beside the point.

The point is you've followed me through changes, and patiently you wait till I come to my senses through some miracle of fate. That is actually a line from the song. Because when I look into your eyes - if I could - (I bet) I could see forever. The search is over now that I've found you. Thanks for being here.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

SOUL CYCLE

This is not a commentary on the latest fitness fad. Because if it were, the little I'd have to say on the subject would be largely derogatory. I simply cannot see see how crouching in a stuffy, dark, cramped room surrounded by sweat-drenched strangers while expending a lot of energy and going nowhere deserves to be called fun, though aficionados tell me it is (fun). I tell these aficionados that if no pain no gain is your thing, discomfort can be had for a lot cheaper than $50 an hour. Try plucking your nose hairs. What we don't do for the sake of beauty. This endurance heir to the Stairmaster and elliptical is all hype. There's a name for the type who likes to run (or otherwise move) in place. It's called a hamster. 

This reminds me of a joke my father likes to tell, about what living with a woman turns a guy into. You go from a wolf to a sheep to a hamster. After nearly 40 years of married life, my dad has added cockroach to the zoological lineage. Which I'm sure …

EVERYTHING'S INTENTIONAL

There is no such thing as screw-ups.

Case in point. My excellent friend Deej comes over to help me beautify the garden. He immediately dives in, crouching down on his knees and weed whacking with his bare hands. Before I can say yay or nay, he proceeds to remove a huge clump of daisy greens from the oblong patch of Earth adjacent to the driveway. The area instantly looks bare. Like the back of Woody Allen's head. Smoothing out the soil and shaking his head Deej mutters to himself "I fucked it up!" over and over again. We try everything. Planting succulents in the daisy's place. Covering it with rocks. But still the area looks barren. And every time you water it the water trickles down onto the sidewalk in the absence of roots to hold it in place. It's getting dark so we go back inside. The next day I return to the spot with a clear perspective and remove all the other daisies, leaving only rose bushes and the succulents that DJ planted, and depositing 10 bags of m…

GRAY MATTERS

I was watching the TV show Naked and Afraid last night as I sometimes do. The show teams together two strangers, a man and a woman, who attempt to survive on their own for a period of 21 days in some remote and isolated region. Some of the locales featured include the Australian Outback, the Amazonian rainforest and the African Savanna. The man may have a military background, or be an adventurist or deep sea fisherman. Sometimes he's an ordinary dude who lives with mom. The woman is a park ranger or extreme fitness enthusiast or "just a mom" herself. Sometimes the couple quarrel, sometimes one or both "tap out" (quit) in a fit of anger or illness. It is satisfying to see them actually make it through the challenge and reach their extraction point. The victors are usually exhausted, emaciated, begrimed and bare ass naked. 

Even more satisfying, at least for me, is the occasional ass shot, snuck in at strategic intervals to boost viewership, of course. It's co…