Saturday, July 05, 2008

Rant About Love: Gender Generalization Day

Saturday, July 5th 2008 has found me, at least now that it is the evening, sitting alone in my flat and watching Silence of the Lambs while waiting for my beloved to return home. I'm not alone, however, and close around me is a dog and two cats. Other cats are circling around and will sometimes approach, seeking my attention.

It's dark in here, as I've turned most of the lights off. I'm also high from various drugs I'd prefer not to mention. With the lights off in an empty flat and the air conditioner banging away, I feel like I'm on a spaceship, a probe of some kind, rapidly but gently moving through black space. Inside there is only me and my pets. I'm the master of no living thing, so it's better to think of them as my traveling companions. Ghost, one of our beloved cats so-named because of her gray color, is convalescing after some abdominal surgery. She was spade, yes, but there was some other non-congenital abnormality that required treatment. Many staples are evident on her abdomen, and last night she seemed extremely groggy. As one would expect, given the pain-killers and surgical gases she had to endure.

I'm afraid right now. I could even get away will saying that I'm terrified. I'm having a panic attack as I write this. I'm rocketing towards loss and terrible pain and loneliness. By being alive I am reducing every heroic act and am a living abomination. I've felt that for years. And everyone loves when I talk about it. Who wouldn't love to hear or read about someone's fascination with the notion that he or she is a disgusting, horrible THING that needs to be killed or at least ignored. Nice light stuff that I'm sure all my friends want to talk to me about. Sarcasm, right there.

I don't know about any of you people, but I'm really up against it on when it comes to mental health. Some people look as if they, too, are struggling to keep paranoia, nihilism, ennui, loathing of self and others, lagging libido, raging libido, angst, confusion, depression and mania at bay. Most of you assholes look fine, though, and it pisses me off to no end.

I'm just a lesser being, I guess. Children of a Lesser God, except not an attractive blond, just me. And I can hear, I just can't think and am at the mercy of my emotions.

I'm having the best sex of my life, though, and that's a good thing. Sex is a wonderful thing. And from where I'm sitting, women are wonderful things. I got a good one, too. I happen to know that women are smarter, stronger, more interesting and emotionally mature, in general, than men. Women also smell better. Even when a woman doesn't smell great, it's an alluring aroma that draws you in. Some men refuse to accept that women fart. I'm not one of those, I know they do. And they are not good, but still better than anything from a man.

Women can be vindictive and petty and so maniacally jealous that they may have men beat. Generalizing. That's what I'm doing. And grudges are held...oh yeah. Just like men. But women do everything better. You want mean? Get a woman. But women are also capable of pure magic. They can practically raise me from the grave. Just give me a smile, a laugh, a bit of conversation about the god do I like women. All of these magnificent traits are possessed by my Linda.

I've taken three women to the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, on dates, in my life. Each time, the fellow working the coat room said about my gal's coat, "What is it about a woman's coat, always warm, not like the guy's." And we laugh. But that shit is true. If not, it feels damn true.

And my Linda. This is no woman, this is a goddess. She laughs long, hard and easily and is never impressed by my demons. She scares them away, scrapes me up and sets things right. She never tears me down to lift herself up. I don't want her to feel that it's her job to prop me up in hard "mental health" moments, that's not fair to her to expect miracles. But she knows how to kiss me, hug me, and even how to talk to me when I'm ensconced in melancholy. In bed she knows how to touch me in such a way as to create a deep shiver that splits me wide and sets me free. She is kind, beautiful, wise, sexy, funny, and strong. Although around me she doesn't have to be, I love her totally. That's what scares me. The fear of losing her. And When I make her laugh it's like a gift from God. In a godless universe that laugh may be the closest I ever get to a spiritual experience.

And I rant and I rant and I rant but I rant about love and love is a good thing.

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