I Was Thinkin' . . .

MY EARACHE

BuzzyM — Thu, 16 Nov 2006 15:32:45 GMT

I just noticed how weird the word earache looks. Sort of looks like the name of a town in the middle east. In any case, yeah earaches, one minor corner of misery in this big old world. Mine is better but I haven't been able to hear out of one ear for several days, which is quite an experience actually. Its not really like being deaf but close enough to scare the bejesus out of me. Then there are the eardrops I got from the doctor, The other day I had just put them in and someone came to the door so I had to get up off my couch, tilt my head, stick my finger in my ear and answer the door. They came in, I lay back down on the couch and attempted to have a conversation with them sort of sideways. Well on the plus side I got to catch up on a bunch of crap television I'd been missing plus all this tilting of my head seems to have helped this kink I had in my neck. Sincerely, Cranky Guy with Earache

Why? Why? Why?

BuzzyM — Tue, 07 Nov 2006 02:22:38 GMT

Here's a question : Why is it when you're sick certain people feel compelled to say things like, "God you look terrible!" or "God you look bad!" What purpose do these types of comments serve exactly? Are they thinking, "Gosh maybe he's really not aware of just how bad he looks."? Or perhaps its like,"Maybe if he knew how bad he looks, he'd get the hell out of here." Or maybe they just can't contain themselves and they need to state it verbally hopefully so others can hear it. Maybe the correct response would be "Here, let me clear this up for you, the reason I look so bad today is that I totally feel like crap! Oh, and by the way, you're not looking so good yourself"

This is My Body

BuzzyM — Sat, 04 Nov 2006 04:44:50 GMT

For some people, they are their body and for others its like this huge bag of responsibilities that is carried around by some naturally lighter more ethereal thing. And sometimes it changes and is a little of both. It is so odd to have this experience of physicality, almost like the background music that plays when you're in a store or an elevator - always present and barely perceptible until there is some glitch in the system. Sometimes its as if my body is whining to me to pay attention so I hurt or feel tired. Its as if that is the only way I really give love to it is if its sick. I know there are other ways to be and other people are better to themselves than I am. But I suppose that is what an ego does is whip the body towards its ends and bully it and/or hope it cooperates. I think we do that to the earth as well, take it for granted, failing in giving it a loving embrace. At the same time I have this belief and knowing that the body is far wiser than I give it credit for, that gut feelings are real and picking up on far more subtle truths than my rational brain can get to. I've spent a good part of my life not listening, even when my body and reality were screaming at me. In a way, it feels like my body wants to have a relationship with me that is not based on shear exploitation. Maybe a partnership of sorts. Of course this is a concept very hard to accept. I want to be in charge. I want what I want. But well, maybe there is something else. I need to listen more and better to messages that are coming in all the time through my skin, my pain, my pleasure.

Traffic Jammin'

BuzzyM — Sat, 30 Sep 2006 15:16:35 GMT

A couple of days ago I was stopped at a light. I was listening to some pretty decent music on NPR and as I looked over into the next lane, I noticed an elderly gentleman in a pickup truck wearing a cowboy hat and playing some type of odd flute=like thing. I turned my music down so I could listen to him. It was then that I realized that he was improvisiong off of the same jaunty NPR tunes I had been listening to. I said "Heh I like it." We gave each other a mutual thumbs up and went on our way. Cool.

Weddings are Weird

BuzzyM — Fri, 22 Sep 2006 23:10:13 GMT

I'm not married. But I've been to lots of weddings. Sometimes I was in the wedding, sometimes I did a reading, sometimes I hung around the fringes and got quietly drunk. Whatever my role, a favorite pastime was always surveying the crowd for the most embarrassing wedding guest or member of the wedding party. And while I can say, I've often had a pretty good time at these various weddings (mostly due to the alcohol and inebriated bridesmaids) I am always left with the same overall impression, "Wow, was that bizarre or what?" Not to be sacreligious, but the proceedings remind me most of those feasts that occur before someone gets thrown into a volcano. I don't really get it but the whole thing seems to have something to do with virginity and sacrificing that, bonding with your spouse, saying goodbye to other possibilities, swearing an oath. I don't know, it all seems sort of medieval. Now I realize I'm making vast generalizations here and probably completely missing the beauty of the whole deal and how I might feel if I had ever been in the position to marry someone, but nonetheless you have to admit the ritual is a bit garish. The garter, the huge bride and dress vs. the "men in black", the smashing of the cake in each other's faces, the weird dancing. Why the production? So everybody's spent so much time and money that it keeps the parties from waking up and sobering up and realizing "What have I done?" I hear people say their wedding day was the happiest day of their lives. That's probably true. Sometimes I just wonder how much a given wedding is actually about the bride and groom vs. all the craziness. It all seems like some sort of strange performance art more often than not. But who am I to judge. I think if I ever get married, I'll want it to just be about me and my partner and maybe that garter thing just for kink.

Nature Sure is a Mother!

BuzzyM — Tue, 19 Sep 2006 17:23:54 GMT

The other day I was walking in the Rillito Wash. I was having many profound thoughts as I witnessed the lingering results of all the recent rains - the exposed roots of the trees, the unusual items that had been carried along by the rains, the variations in the moisture level of the soil. As I looked east, I saw what looked to be a patch of still wet mud beneath a bridge. This prompted more ruminations on the interplay of man and environment and the possible microenvironment that still might exist in this isolated patch of dark brown earth. I pressed forward anxious to see what might be there. As I approached I noticed scratch marks in the soil. From a distance I supposed it might be the work of some wild animal, perhaps digging for water or food. The mystery was soon solved as I reached the sheltered patch of wet ground. With a stick someone had written the following words in the mud, "Bite my Ass!" So, the moral of my story friends? The insistence of nature is only matched by the insistence of some to write grafitti - on it. Happy trails!