In order to better understand the unusual actions of my mistress I read a book I hadn't picked up in years, Madame Bovary. My mistress did not suffer the economic distress of the book's main character but some of her actions and phrases reflected that of a novel published in 1856. I seek novelty and all I find are novels! Alas, must my newness smell of musty old tomes?
A few phrases from the book stand out:
- "human speech is like a cracked tin kettle, on which we hammer out tunes to make bears dance when we long to move the stars"
- "But the disparaging of those we love always alienates us from them to some extent. We must not touch our idols; the gilt sticks to our fingers."
- "As to the inscription, Homais could think of nothing so fine as Sta viator, and he got no further; he racked his brain, he constantly repeated Sta viator. At last he hit upon Amabilem conjugem calcas, which was adopted."
While mulling the book's storyline in my thoughts, I reclined in bed with the cats. My wife stood in the bathroom, doing whatever she does to dress herself up in the morning for a day of work, with the shower radio broadcasting music that bounced against my eardrums.
A few times in my life I have heard unique musical rhythms in my thoughts that made me wish I'd taken my piano lessons more seriously so that I could repeat the rhythms on the piano and record the score. For the most part, when I hear rhythms, it's usually the rhythms that word-sounds make. Occasionally, song phrases, advert jingles, or whole songs from popular culture repeat in my thoughts.
When a song played on my wife's shower radio this morning, I suddenly saw myself in my younger days, roller skating with friends when we were in our early teens, going round in circles and swaying to the music. My roller skating days melted away and my bowling alley days (ninth grade, I believe) reappeared, accompanied by The Eagles and southern rock bands. Those days faded and my earlier sock hop days appeared, when I danced in my socks on the gym floor in grades five through nine because shoes were not allowed. Then, memories of secondary school dance days popped up, when "heavy petting" took place on the dance floor in the high school commons area. Next, I jumped into my punk rock dancing days on the Strip in Knoxville, when I had a shaved head and wore a large can opener as a single earring, making people think I was a Buddhist, a devotee of Hare Krishna, or a punk wannabe (this was before shaved heads became popular). And finally, the early days of my marriage, when my wife and I joined our other newly married and single friends in club hopping, danced in my head.
Not many of us sing aloud when we work. We listen to music through headphones or earbuds, if we listen to music at all. Some of us listen to "talk radio." I listen to myself talk out ideas in my thoughts, sometimes focusing on the sounds of the words, sometimes focusing on the images the words invoke (or provoke, as the case may be) and sometimes seeing ideas themselves as concrete structures.
This blog has helped me empty out built-up thought patterns so I can go on to whatever else I want to think about, serving as a daily workout routine equivalent to my light workout with 10-lb weights to strengthen my arm, chest and back muscles, preparing me to lift objects, real or imagined.
All this talk about music moved me to turn on my iPod. Right now, "Bleed For Me," by the Dead Kennedys, plays on my iBlast orb iPod speaker appliance - flashing images of my punk rocks days in my thoughts again - preceded by the last few seconds of a work by Kitaro and followed by a live performance by Weather Report.
I live during historic times, always have and always will. I have watched political movements rise and fall. I have watched insects eat insects and then get eaten by birds whose nesting trees have been cut down to make way for human housing (or human nests, if you will). Change is constant. If nothing else about my existence is certain, I am change.
When you read these words, remember that I have nothing to offer you. I am not leading or following. I am not selling or buying. I am not intentionally teaching. I only observe and learn for myself. I am just like all seven billion of us, making my way across this planet, the result of parental pairing I did not pick, in an age I did not choose. All the possibilities of my species are available to me and I limit myself to a few of them, even though I know I only have this one life to live. I am not pushing this blog on you (well, I have told a few of you the location of this blog) so if any of the words I write affect you, positively or negatively, you are responsible for assessing how you want the effects to change your life.
I wish you peace, happiness, joy and elation during the changes in your life. Regardless of your religious beliefs, know that whatever happens to you is supposed to happen because we cannot escape the illusion of time and what happened in every previous moment cannot be undone. Have kids and take care of your family. "Family" is just a word, with no specific meaning, so treat everyone and no one as family - take care of yourself first and family will take care of itself. Words are meaningless - you are more important than one word, a single book, any library, every library, the Internet or the World Wide Web.
I am a storyteller, a writer, and I am not you. I appreciate all the gestures you make to indicate the importance my actions and words have on you, including notes on white boards in classrooms, but keep in mind that I believe every person's life is more important to him/her than mine is, including yours. If, despite my admonition that I am an example of who or what not to be, you still state that my life is important to you, then do me a favor and follow my advice while you're having kids and taking care of your family:
- Live your life wisely.
- Love everyone you meet.
- Remind yourself often that no one is more important than you.
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