There are Worlds Between the Worlds

It isn't that there's been nothing to write so much as time's gotten away from me. I stepped away from one job to try and have more time for writing and music (not necessarily in that order), but time's been gobbled up by life, the living and the dying of it. Bass and the book get their allotment, but it's the day to day that keeps me offline. Ultimately that may not be a bad thing as, let's face facts, the rambling I do here is nothing that needs to be posted (foisted) with any kind of urgency or regularity. And in that spirit, let the blather commence.

The last span has been odd. Yes, even in the context of my lack of life. The fire still burns on the mountain, about 40% contained now. And while we can't see flames lapping up the hillsides, the air is still disturbing. Skies are sometimes orange-grey and air quality is... chewy. Some strange mass has taken refuge in my sinuses, rattling around when I blow my nose or gasp while trying to sleep through the night. Coughing has become a regular part of my functioning. This is not so much a complaint as it is my way of giggling at the fact that the accoutrements of 'old man-ism' are now on prominent display. Maybe it's time to add whippersnapper to the lexicon and start yelling at those kids to get off my lawn.

Actually, the demeanor has changed. I saw a photo of me a couple of years back with what looked like a blossoming bald spot, a patch of thinning hair, and thought I'd just head it off at the pass. Yep, shaved the dome. I could reminisce or opine my locks, but the reality is that it'd been years since anyone other than a coiffeuse or me ran fingers through it. Before I bought clippers, I visited a barber a few times. That was enough window into grumpy old man culture that I not only bought my own depilation apparatus, but I quickly became proficient with it. If you haven't, let me tell you that grooming with two mirrors and learning to instruct one's muscles to operate completely counter to what instinct dictates is quite something.

And if you thought that was exciting, I grew a beard. Not one of those lumberjack accessories that hipsters seem to enjoy, the ones that require combs and oils to maintain, but something like you'd have seen on Sean Connery in decades past. Only without the style or flair of that legendary Scot. But I do have a lot more salt than pepper, and while the women in my life tell me that's very attractive to the fairer sex, I have no evidence to support it.

Which works out just fine. For yes, I crave the company of a woman, but I'm even less in a place to have that in my life than I was before. I have only enough clarity now to know I'm completely off balance and out of whack. Then again, when was I ever in whack?

Life of course seldom lets up with its parade of the strange and unexpected. In a rare moment of peace recently, not one but three of my exes wrote. Not to ask how I am or to see what was up, but to flirt or unveil emotional need out of the blue. Neither of these is a bad thing, but it wasn't anything I saw coming. Of course that may be why they reach out, but I'll never know. And in tried and true fashion, as soon as I reach back, they disappear.

But the deepening invisibility is good for perspective. Taking my vanity out of the mix has meant that I can simply go my way anon. There's a line in an anime film that I adore and I apologize if I've brought it up prior, but a character is in existential crisis. While he's a considered and cerebral figure, he's also known and needed for his less savory skills. When discussing who and what he is versus who he wants to be, he paraphrases a Buddhist poem:

'Let one walk alone, committing no sin, with few wishes, like an elephant in the forest.'

And it's to this I subscribe. It would be lovely to share me with someone who wants to share herself, too, but I think unless things line up just so, this is not a contingency for which I need to account. In all honesty, as I'm never out of love, there's no real need for someone in my life. The pleasantness of a partner or playmate is offset too often by that jarring, jagged weirdness of the blindsiding that occurs when something has come up in her cognition and rather than bring it up for discussion, she simply launches into some strange behavior or diatribe counter to whoever she's been to that point. If I have learned anything it's that this is the point where she's already got one foot out the door and this is the gesture that makes that exit easier and smoother. For her.

So I remain a solo act. I have a life filled with love, but I have no human contact. No canoodling or cahoots. I hug two or three people a year, but I'm more likely to roll around with a dog than caress a lover. I dole out some of the carnal on the written page, and I think there's sensuality -- even sentimentality -- in my music, but none of that is spent easing my own flesh. This is a time for living in my head, not below the neck. Maybe again someday, but not today.

Nope. Off kilter is not something to invite someone to join. Whoever I am now, it's not who I was a few years ago when I enjoyed the company of a lover or the squishier emotions. This person is too impatient and not empathetic enough for a partner. A time when I want attention is the time not to have it. If I feel that, then I have nothing to bring to a relationship. As nice as it would be to receive, I'm too damaged at the moment to give. This is when I need to let go, to find those things that are toxic and send them into the ether. So much needs untethering.

So how's that for a ramble? Sean Connery, Buddhist elephant imagery and a fire that won't stop burning. Sounds about par for this course, for discourse.