A Conversation (Part 5)

“You know I’m not perfect right?” The Pink Floyd clock in the top left corner ticked loudly, as if to say ‘look how little time has passed’ in which I my mind could only reply ‘I know.’

“Why does that need to be said?” 

“because I feel like I need to make that clear”

“You’ve made it clear” A moment passed. “You haven’t done anything wrong, why are you saying this?” 

“Because I am afraid I will do something wrong and I will forget” 

“You mean ‘you’ will forget?”

“No, that I will forget. I forget all the time” 

“That sounds a little arrogant don’t you think?”

“No that’s not what I mean” I could feel a sigh escape my lips. I regretted it immediately. “I mean. I’m not sure what I mean but I know I mean something.” 

“Okay.”

“I mean that I know I am fallible but that I will treat my mistake as something that I only did, so compared to everyone else it makes it worse cause other people don’t make mistakes. You know what I mean?” 

“Honestly I don’t but that’s okay. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Would you forgive me if I did something wrong?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means it depends”

“Depends on what?”

“On what you did wrong, fuck why all the questions?”

“Like what? What wrong could you forgive me for and what couldn’t you forgive me for?”

“Look, I don’t know, it hasn’t happened. It depends, there is like a million things you can do wrong okay? How the fuck  should I know right now what is forgivable and what isn’t?”

“But like hypothetically what is something you can’t forgive?”

“Why are you obsessed with this? Let it go I don’t want to talk about it okay?” 

“Okay.” The Floyd clock kept ticking. 

“How did this conversation come about anyways?”

“I don’t know, I guess it’s been on my mind for a while.”

“Is this your crazy way to tell me you did something wrong.”

“No.” I waited a long bated breath before continuing. “This is my way of saying I will and that when I do I don’t want you to hate me.”

“I will never hate you.”

“You told me once ‘you act as if you disposable in my life’ and you’re right, I do. I feel disposable.”

“So you think I would just get rid of you like that? That’s a little insulting don’t you think?”

“No, not that you think that, but that everyone thinks that.”

“No one thinks that.”

“No, there is. I guess where. I don’t know. Please don’t go.”

A Conversation (part 4)

“Am I worth it?” As with any question tinged with desperation a vague sense of sadness envelopes the listener.
  
“Do you want to be worth it?”
  
“That feels like a trick question.”
  
“I think it is a fair question. Do you want to be worth it?”
  
“Are you asking me if I want to be or does my answer speak to what I actually believe? So if I say I want to be worth it than clearly I think I am worth it and vis versa.”
  
“I think you are over thinking. Do you want to be worth it?”
  
“Yeah, I want to be worth it, or at least worth something.”
  
“those are two different things, to be worth it and to be worth something.”
  
“Yeah but they are dependent you know? I gotta be worth something to be worth it you know? Everyone has a different level of what they think is worth it, what one person values isn’t valued the same by a different person but both people will agree it has value of some sort. It than becomes a numbers game, if I am of value than I will be worth it to someone.”
  
“Well I think it’s obvious you are of some value.”
  
“You say that with such conviction. I don’t have such conviction”
  
“You are a human being, you have value.”
  
“Don’t you think that is a little arrogant”
  
“What is?”
  
“That assumption.”
  
“What assumption?”
  
“That by being human I have value. Why do you assume that if something is human, or better yet alive, that it has value. That to me is absurd. Why can’t something that is either human or alive be valueless?”
 
 “Because that is what I choose to believe.”
  
“I’m glad you are honest about it.” There was a long pause of silence. “Do you think you are worth something?”
  
“Why do you feel like asking me that?”
  
“I’m curious on your thoughts, I'm sorta tired of hearing my own.”  

“Well we already discussed my assumptions, so yes, I am worth something.”
 
 “Do you think you are worth it”
  
“I thinks so, people have decided I am, and by your explanation that would mean I am.”
  
“I suppose so eh.”
  
“Do you think you are worth something?”
  
“Yeah I think I am.”
  
“Why the change of thought?”
  
“Honestly?”
  
“I would very much enjoy you being honest with me. I think it makes our lives easier if we are honest with each other.”
  
“I’m scared of what it would mean if I wasn’t.”
   

Empathy (Thoughts)

Has empathy become quaint and idealized? As a constant consumer of media, in full disclosure liberal media, I have perceived an important and amazing trend towards the philosophy of inclusion. I will preface by saying that I doubt the rhetoric parallels the reality, but I do believe the rise of the currently inclusionary rhetoric does speak to a possible shift in societal opinion, if not in action. On every podcast, interview, and newscast the issue of societal inclusion has become a vital focal point of discussion, especially noteworthy within the arts, a field in which expression and, most importantly, connection reigns supreme. With that we feel the need that character roles in film, television, and stage productions (to name a few)  are to be played by the adjacent demographic. Example: that disabled characters should be played by disabled actors (under reasonable situations of course), that LGBT characters should be played by LGBT actors, and that all ethnic characters should be played by similarly (if not exact) ethnic actors [I give only a few examples out of the necessity of both space and time for the reader and I]. Do I agree with the above ideal? Absolutely, who better to understand the plight of an LGBT character than an LGBT actor? Who better to understand the difficulties of living with a disability than an actor who has a disability? Who better to understand ethnic nuances than an actor immersed in said environment? Yet, despite the beauty of such an ideal, of such an exclusionary philosophy, perhaps we are losing on another beautiful, if foolishly (?) angelic ideal. Empathy.
   
Empathy is defined as “the ability to understand and share the feelings of another” and comes from the greek prefix “em” - in, and the greek word “pathos” - feeling, to create the concept of being “in-feeling,” able to share feeling, and perhaps beyond. So how does our exclusionary philosophy, as found within the rhetorical underpinnings of our society, negatively impact our beliefs in empathy?
   
It is important to note that empathy is a nuanced word that can be construed differently depending on individuals experiences and definitional outlook and so I may very well be arguing a definition you will disagree with, if that is the case it may very well be possible that our currently inclusionary path does not negatively impact our angelic ideal of empathy, but I ask that you hear me out anyways.
   
Our exclusionary philosophy appears to assume a limit to our ability to empathize with our fellow human being. It assumes a man can’t possibly understand what it means to be a woman. I will always take the stance that I cannot understand a woman, someone within the LGBT community, or someone from a different ethnic and cultural background in their totality. Yet I still wish to believe that my imagination and my own shared human experiences, grounded in both practical and emotional knowledge, is enough to allow me to walk in the shoes of that person on an emotional level. Why can’t I, as both a song writer and a dabbler in short fiction, write a well rounded character from a different economic, social, ethnic, cultural, and sexual background? As an artist I crave to connect, to understand and to grasp the lives of others. The moment society unveils me a ceiling, a level of empathy deemed a philosophical impossibility, my fear is that the ceiling does not exist as a reflection of reality but a self imposing restriction, a height we can attain if we only allowed ourselves to attain it. Or perhaps, as I mentioned before, I am but a believer in a foolish and angelic ideal long past its usefulness.

Yesterday (Thoughts)

Yesterday. Yesterday I was feeling somber. Today, today I am also feeling somber. Someone I knew, you could call a long-past friend, was facing a great pain and I was torn. They would feel that great pain tomorrow, today, I don’t know for how long. Yesterday I said hello to an old friend -current acquaintance- funny how things turn out. She was doing so well, happy with her life and how it was moving. Hearing of her life, though it was condensed in just a handful of words, wrought me a moment of joy.  The previously mentioned person, my long-past friend, had caused her great pain not to long ago. It feels as if it was a long time but it wasn’t. What is a long time?
   
On the surface yesterday could be perceived as a textbook example of our westernized and bastardized ideal of “Karma.” Things come back to you, it is only fair. The ones who cause pain should be forced to feel pain, isn’t that how it should be? Yet I felt hollow inside. Yesterday wasn’t a victory against human evil, it was a victory for human pain. On some level I know the pain he is going through, and on another level I don’t. Sure, the similarities are there, but the context is different, the people are different, the histories are different. All I know is that pain is the universal equalizer. What he is feeling yesterday, today, tomorrow, isn’t fair, it isn’t fucking retribution, it is the antithesis of retribution. We often forget, when living in out social microcosms, that pain permeates throughout social connections. To find cosmic justification within a painful event through the past actions of one person, the only one you know to be directly affected, is monstrous, dimwitted and self serving. As such, to a long-past friend, I am sorry for your loss. I wouldn’t wish that pain on anyone, not a soul. Pain, it nullifies us all, if for one heart wrenching moment; that body laying in the ICU.
   
So how do we find retribution? Remember that old friend, current acquaintance? She is happy now, enjoying her life and the path she has taken. Her happiness, not her ill will, is the proper retribution. I doubt she has forgotten the pain she felt under his influence, my long-past friend, nor do I know or care if she has forgiven him, but she has let the pain slip from her life, it no longer controls her as it once did. It may not taste as sweet as the revenge we often see in movies, and it very much doesn’t feel “fair” as when pain begets pain, but the world isn’t fair, it isn’t ruled by cosmic balances and cyclical patterns. The only balance we can create (find?) is within ourselves, to search for such balance within the external world would be foolhardy, to ask for comfort in something beyond our control. As a side note let me ask, which one of us truly want such control? To mould the world around us to fit our preconceived notions of balance? I for one believe that to have such control would pollute and corrupt not only my mind and soul but the black beauty which makes the world so appealing (appalling?).

So, to my old friend -current acquaintance - thank you for showing me in a short period of time, the balance found within yourself. I am sure you have shown it before, but I failed to see, and for that I am sorry. I am proud of you, what you have accomplished, and what you will accomplish. To my long-past friend thank you for showing me the humanity that exists within us all. Perhaps because I didn’t give you the chance -perhaps you didn’t deserve that chance- I didn’t get to witness such humanity under more ideal circumstances and for that I am sorry, but know that your pain, as harsh and un-wielding it is, will not beget pleasure from me, nor pain. It begets sympathy, and has taught me a little a-bit about myself.

A Conversation (Part 3)

You’re a little faggot sometimes you know that” he said with a smirk, “You even smile like a faggot too! Stop smiling faggot!!” A knowing twinkle reflected in his eyes.
    “Shut the fuck up you Oedipus!”
    “Oh hi-yo smart - educated fucker, using mighty big words and really old references. What does that remind me of … ? Oh yeah! That you are a little faggot!” the smile widened, the master teaser knows when he is playing the game right, laying down the foundation.
    “I’m a proud faggot. The most wonderfully faggoty faggot you will ever meet, the queen of faggots you could say!”
    “A natural rebuttal my dear queen faggot, a natural rebuttal.” He was letting my off easy today, how sweet. “Anyways ma-, opps, I mean queen faggot, how is life treating you? Gotten laid recently? Get the wick wet?! Feed some ducks?”
    “Oh of course not my Oedipus-like friend, I’ve been busy with this and that. You know how it goes.”
    “I do, I do. Sucking a lot of cock eh?”
    “You could say that” I responded with a chuckle, “You could say that.”
    “I’m not surprised, not one bit.”
    “I know you’re not. So how is the miss’s?”
    “The miss’s is missed but that is to be expected. When they leave the kitchen the natural habitat of the home is thrown into disarray as could be expected” We both chucked yet only one of us laughed.
    “I hear you man, a huge void is felt . So what brought you to my part of the world? It is a long ways away from your quiet life back home.”
    “I needed some help I guess man, queen faggot, and I need some advice.”
    “Advice from me!? Now that is something to behold, you, the great dragon slayer is asking for MY advice, why, I must put this down on tape or no soul will believe me!”
    “hohahahaha” he laughed without mirth “Oh how funny. You know why, I think you’re smart, you give good advice, it ain’t your fault people are so bad at taking or following advice. be forgiving you faggot.” He loved the word, he spit it out with a venom so grotesque it felt endearing. Perhaps it was.
    “Okay, so what do you need advice on?” He kept smiling.
    “Well let me at least wine and dine you before I take part in your services.”
    “Fine fine, where do you want to go eat?”
    “I thought you would make me something to eat, you where already cooking from what I can see.” The smile creeped deep into his eyes, his very soul.
    “Very well my dear friend.”
    “So what are you making by the way?”
    “I am making a mediterranean salad with orzo, and I believe I will also be making risotto, so a lot of carbs, you’ll like it.”
    “Sounds kinda faggoty to me, but it also sounds really good. How long till it is done?”
    “However long it’ll take for you to bring me up to speed and to dispense my advice.”
    “Perfect.” 

A Good Joke (A Poem)

A Good Joke

It didn’t take long to get the card
It had Santa giving head to his reindeer
I laughed, it was so meaningless

I didn’t know the name on the front
You always like to live as someone else
The mail only cares that I am here

Sure there is a sad story to be told
We’ve been through pain, we’ve broke
Yet today I am happy to enjoy a good joke

A good joke, that was what I am today
I am everything, a good joke to you
And laugh we will, laugh till tomorrow

It didn’t take long to get the card
The letter inside was sweet and sad
We don’t need to talk about that though

We just need a good joke.

Girl With Two Syllable Name (A Poem)

Girl With Two Syllable Name

I smoke when I'm sad

Fall into a nicotine sleep

My mouth so dry

Laying down, I'm dizzy

Life, it won't always find a way

A way free from the path 

I think I may love you

But I won't know till you let me in

Fighting for a path inside

You will always be sad

L3ogical double bind, can't crack

Don't change how I feel

Your two syllable name

Kind eyes behind sad design

I can't always save

I can't always save

Two syllables to her name

I won't always save

Two Syllables to her name

I want to save 

Two syllables to her name 

I try to save 

Two syllables to her name

Girl With Two Syllable Name