My favorite passing or streaking thought of the day is one of my favorite SNL sketches ever, Massive Headwound Harry with brilliant Dana Carvey:
What makes it all the more brilliant is that this is the only sketch ever done for this character; god bless them for not doing it fifteen times or having the character open the show with the iconic line and having him with children with massive headwounds because the’ve run out of locations and Alec Baldwin is already making his second appearance for that sketch. When the Baldwin Level approaches II, time to ditch.
This is a most unusual day. It is no secret to me my moods are the surface of Mars buried under a prairie with fire geysers; the swamp from Princess Bride with the RULS (Rodents of Unusually Large Size). When I look around and get jealous of other people’s seeming tranquility I know it’s a cycle, the dark side of an undiscovered moon. I was on the phone today and remarked that ‘the world seems to run mostly on bullshit’; I almost never feel like I’m telling the truth; I feel that there is always a grander, more urgent truth that can be told; I don’t know when to be polite and when to unload. Once at a holiday party I heard this woman say something disparaging about her boyfriend to the likes of ‘ah, he just doesn’t know how to dress’ as if he were hopeless and a nuisance. I have a rule which is you don’t talk smack about your significant other when they’re not around…that leads to the horrible AT&T commercial where the man mentions to his wife he got some new texting service and she shoots back while symbolically clipping plants ‘yeah, how much we pay for that/ mom was right, I should have married charles.” I guess that was suppose to be funny. Funny isn’t funny anymore. There’s a lot of that acrimony in commercials, on TV where it’s hurling insults at spouses to get a good laugh, computer generated or otherwise. I’m a romantic, or respectful, perhaps a juicy combination of both. It’s cynicism; it’s a quiet epidemic, it’s infected ooze from an unhealed wound and the fear of giving in to that, of making snide remarks about my partner or people in general frightens me more than aging. And aging freaks me out. Watch TV during the day and see an order of commercials: lawyer, diabetes insulin pricking technology (ones with scratch’n’sniff stickers for your kids!), lawyer, diabetes insulin pricking technology, lawyer, lawyer, YOU ARE OLD!!!! commercial. I think there’s a company out there that wants to get you from diapers to diapers as quickly and quietly as possible with the occasional glimpse of the X Factor and a good lawsuit. And hate your spouse. That seems to be most commercials.
When I am in one of these moods it is either transient like a snowflake or it moves the same way over and over, playing the same tune. That’s when I know there’s a death to shed. When I keep finding ways to tolerate a situation in my life instead of just getting rid of the situation and The Situation then my teeth start to grind and I start to feel mad. A typical day for me is about three hundred moods, mostly sub-moods, from the bed to the bathroom. A friend of mine once told me ‘you are a tortured soul but you’re ok with it.’ This is not a statement to put on my vision board. The vastness of love, and the capacity to hold that in my body like a sword balancing on a nose, and the souls we meet that evoke the wreckage and the treasures inside it and there is another ocean underneath the one we call familiar and in that ocean, if can grapple with it for a moment, is what drives me. Most of the time I think I fail. Then I think, if a baseball player hits .300, he or she fails seven out of ten times and that’s considered excellent.
I need to have sex soon. My thoughts are getting odd.