Working It Out

“Nothing’s wrong.  Everything is just as it is, that’s all.”

“Then why’s my belly flipping?  And my shoulders, how come they’re up around my ears–”

“That’s about you.”

“Yeah?  Ain’t I part of this  goddamn’ world?”

“Hey!  Take it easy.  Buddha said–”

“Buddha’s dead.

“Are you sure?”

“Wickipedia.  You could Google it.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Do I?”

“What’s up with you?”

“‘What’s up?’  The last six years you been sayin’ ‘What up?’  You tired o’ tryin’ to be street?”

“I guess.  Never thought about it.”

“See?  That’s it.  There’s a whole bunch o’ shit you don’t think about any more.  You just come up with your automatic Buddha says stuff like nothin’ could be nothin’ else.”

“I didn’t–”

“You do an’ I’m sick of it.  We usta talk about shit, explore it like.  Now, no matter what I say, you shoot back some five to seven words of 2500 year old profundity and think, ‘Topic closed.  I tol’ ’em again.  O what a clever spiritual being I am.’  Ya know, I’m gettin’ really fed up with your ‘more deeper than you are’ crap.”

“No!  No, I didn’t realize…I didn’t mean to–”

“And when things ain’t workin’ for you, you go into your little silent withdrawal in public–like nobody’s got anything to say to you, so why even give ’em a chance?  Mr. Silent Sufferer, except that you wouldn’t suffer because Buddha says suffering is just mind-created bullshit, and so, of course, you wouldn’t do that because you’re so damned in tune.”

“Jesus!”

“Don’t you mean “Buddha”?

“And the way you always talk about ‘Everything works out.’  How come you always seem to forget that while it’s workin’ out?  When you were goin’ through that shit at work and before that when you couldn’t eat because of the whatever that you wouldn’t get operated on because you were convinced it wouldn’t work”

“Hey!  Gimme a break.  I gotta be perfect?

“‘Course not.  Nobody’s perfect.  We both know that.”

“So what’s this all about?”

“I tell you the truth: When we’re together,  whether you’re being the spiritual asshole or the sulking asshole, you’re still being an asshole.”

“Yeah?”

“In both cases you’ve forgotten about me.”

“So?”

“Especially when I’m being an asshole.  Shit, man.  That’s when I need you.  Not some preachy shit or some ‘poor me, but you wouldn’t understand.’  I need You

“When are you an asshole?”

“Christ!  Like right now.  Right now!   SEE!  You don’t listen.  Fifty thousand butterflies doin’ the polka in my belly.  My jaw is tight…my shoulders…”

“Turn around!”

“Huh?”

“Turn around.  I’m gonna give you a back rub.”

“Yeah.  Right.  What’s that gonna do?”

“Just turn around…and shut up.

“Yeah.  You shut up too.”

“Yeah…”

 

 

Published in: on August 25, 2012 at 3:33 pm  Leave a Comment  

(Insert Title Or Not)

Nothing.  Not emptiness.  Not even emptiness.

Just nothing.

(sigh)

Published in: on August 23, 2012 at 9:59 pm  Comments (1)  

In the Words of an Old Song…

There’s something happening here

And what it is ain’t exactly clear.

Maybe more about that in the future.  Meanwhile here are some new snaps.

This look keeps it all together for me.

This is about being grounded or maybe not.

I just like this one.

Here’s Topher…

and Bennie…

and Ron & Con after putting up with me.

The Colt Arms building in Hartford.

And one word that turned the back of a sign into the front of that sign.

Published in: on August 5, 2012 at 10:32 pm  Comments (1)