I can tell from my blog and journal entries that I’m shutting down emotionally.
My money is in my head and everything I’ve ever learned about living life enjoyably is dead to me.
The maw of the man cave beckons me.
This baby has been overstimulated by relatives chucking it under the chin and I’m going to be cranky and cry just before I fall asleep.
We think we grow up and get sophisticated, but eat, shit and sleep has a powerful pull on us and some of the ways we act as babies just gets repeated in a slightly different fashion as we grow larger.
Reminds me of what good ole Claude Anderson used to say about there not being much evolution in humankind the past 150,000 years or so. “They” are so primitive and savage and “We” are so cosmopolitan and civilized. Hmmm. Think I may want to call bullshit on that one.
I’m about the same on this one. I don’t particularly claim myself to be all that darn grown up, but, even if you were grown up, just how grown up is grown up? Don’t grownups do a lot of very childish things? And some child-like things as well?
Think about how a baby acts. When you eat a big meal and want to immediately go to sleep — and do — how is that any different than an infant?
And, then there’s that whole mammal thing.
Yeah, I know, humans are at the very apex of the pyramid of life on earth. Dominant species. Special. Self aware of the angel within us.
But this is spring and we all feel a little like rutting and we’re restless with the change in the seasons and the earth under our feet and the plants that are blooming and putting out leaves and the animals and insects and birds that are mating and eating and nesting all around us.
Just how far out of the jungle do we really think we are?
For me, cloudy days depress the rose bush in my DNA and I have to go ride out by Lake Hefner to satisfy the frog in me and when the ugly 68 year old overweight waitress bends over the next table, my chimpanzee still has a galvanic response.
What part of me is human? The part that makes me feel guilty and stupid and worthless because I’m broke. The insane part.
How cool is that?
Question:
Is the phrase “It just doesn’t matter” tremendously depressing, or tremendously liberating?
Maybe that’s a better question to ask the Oracle Of Del(City)phi, but I’m axing YOU.
I’m liberated in my depression
Yeah, well, at least you’re a burning hunk of love.
Ya know, I hate to say it, but I buy into the American Dream myth just enough that a lack of money or money worries will flatten my libido right down to the nub. If I’m shutting down/off like I think I am, maybe my burning hunk of love is turning into a smokey pile. Ykkk. I don’t like to think about that, but worried about money and emotionally shutting down does make me feel much less like sex. I don’t think I’m the only one by any means, and in fact think that’s more common among men than men would like to admit. Oddly, men are always ready to discuss their conquests and near misses, but rarely do we discuss the downturns and disappointments. This seems so fucking personal to put in a blog on the internet, but it also seems like it’s something that ought to be out there to discuss openly. It’s just facts of life. Just … the deal.
As an aside … and I think this is somewhat personal to me … sometimes the very fact of my disinterest, my unavailability, seems to attract some women. That’s just so weird to me. I’m always thinking: where are you girls when I’m hot? And, the answer is, of course, that being hot is precisely what they are NOT looking for. It’s like a challenge or a conquest for them. It always makes me wonder about the relationships gay men and priests have with women who are attracted to unavailability. Yikes! I also recall that when I was married and wore my wedding ring on ALL occasions, there was also a certain small percentage of women who took that as a personal affront and don’t mention it again, we can get past all that. “Are you a fanatic about it?”, I was once asked when I demurred with an “I’m married” and pointed to said ring. What the hell’s a guy SUPPOSED to say? I still declined that night, but … dang … life’s a long strange trip, Jerry.