Happy New Year.
Oomp to the skippitty-bob, Popcorn with parmesan!
I'm gonna type just about anything that pings into my noggin' and that's the way it's a'gonna be. It's the end/beginning of the year, and it's been a weird one. Like, existential, dudes.
Here's the immediate deal, hipsters and flipsters - there are real bullets and there are metaphorical bullets. If you're lucky, pay attention to details, and stay focused, you learn how to dodge BOTH. Neither the actuals nor the figuratives will hit you. Crazy, I know. (sighs)
They're just words on a virtual page, right? They don't mean bupkis, right? So provocative, isn't it all? All of it? Right? I can ask questions ad infinitum, and no one cares, right? What am I, Hawaiian? I'm craving SPAM, or am I? Mahalo, peaceniks.
"You and I go hard at each other
Like we're goin' to war.
You and I go rough,
We keep throwin' things
And slammin' the doors.
You and I get so damn dysfunctional
we start keepin' score.
You and I get sick,
Aay, I know that we can't do this no more..."
Maroon 5, "One More Night" (That song fucking rocks. Seriously.)
The UV/IR/Visual lights of the Tinglev were reflected off the polished surface of the walls of the berth at AMHRF. It looked like an empty dance floor on MAIN. Clean, polished, unused. Sensors were powered down - we didn't want to provoke or even act defensive.
"XO, is the security detachment ready?" I pushed, privately.
"Blinx, Klargen."
"Let's take a look."
"Aye. Herp-derp rad-shur pip da'lem."
The filed onto the bridge. They were in Order Blue tunics, albeit riddled with unnatural bulges. I had ordered only subdue weapons and minimal armor.
Two of the Greys on the away-team I recognized and knew from the equivalent of the 'mess hall,' and two were from the 'bowels of the ship.' (I knew their pictos - and names - from the crew roster, but here they were.) They looked nonchalant for a security detail, and that was exactly what we wanted to project. I led them down toward the forward drop hatch and messaged to them to 'chill' as much as possible.
"Porten lip smep dern nip nell, gip baht smer-neen E-o." (Keep your thoughts clear, they'll be scanning.) We lined up at the drop-hatch. Not like Fuji, I thought.
"Blinx, Klargen."
The door depressurized and dropped neatly to the deck with a hiss and a muted 'clunk.' It sounded hollow echoing off the walls. I could see scanning-layer light illuminating us as the hatch clanked down. We're completely vulnerable down here, I reminded myself.
And that was that. They knew.
And we knew they knew. Heartbeats were audible inside alien chests.
"Team, secure a perimeter."
"Blinx, Klargen," they messaged as they rushed out of the drop-hatch, unafraid. I couldn't have found or cultivated a better crew, I thought. The slow, dreary light of the bottom of the fold began to become my normal light. My Security Team could see all of it.
I tightened my weapons belt and stepped out.
"My love is at leave with the freeway,
Its passion will ride as the cities fly by.
And the tail-lights's on in the coming of night.
And the questions in thousands, take flight."
Robert Plant, "Big Log"
I'm so loathe to even type her pseudo-name again. (However, I might, if I feel squirrelly.) I'm fairly sure that - in the ongoing 'Airing of My Grievances' these last 7 months - she has determined that I may have some residual anger and related issues about her.
Of course I do. (I have a vast, easily replay-able memory.)
It's hard to shake 21 years of silence/indifference and the pointed psychological terrorism she mastered - and used - after we split. Dead dragonflies, attempted reverse-stalking(?), and personalized, symbolic graffiti were piss-poor substitutes for actual communication. In the early 90's, the "Power of No" was much larger in her than the "Power of Yes." Let's hope she's changed.
Apparently, she felt a 'shift' on the Mayan solstice. She's going to believe in this 'shift' without any apparent evidence, without knowledgeable argument, and without reconciliation, it would seem. ("Poof," and I disappear, yet again. Like she made me do before, under judicial force. Fuck that. I'm done with 'disappearing.' As an actual creature, it's an exceedingly hard thing to do. Try to take a class in that discipline, no one offers it. I could be 40 feet from you, and you wouldn't know. Hmmmmm - I've been 40 feet from you in the last three years, did you know that? In a new, red Camaro.)
A shift HAS occurred, but I don't think she's in on the 'whole thing.' Not Even A Bit.
We'll see about that assumption... she may proclaim all this New Age holisticity, co-existence in peace with all peoples, and 'intentional' recognition of the humanity in all of us, but I'm left out of her equation, completely.
Me=<0.
If she's ever thought of me, since, she hasn't mentioned it. Not even once, even obliquely. I'm still a black hole in her life history from which nothing ever exits. This is a woman I made love with like my life depended on it. I felt like our coupling was ordained by the stars. The intense gravity of her negativity is greater than anything else I've experienced ever, since. There's very little chance that 'what she says' on MYBOOKFACE will reflect itself in 'how she acts' regarding me. ("Boogeymen SHOULD hide." That's what I still get from her. In the absence of anything - anything- else.)
Talking the talk without walking the walk? (Sometimes I can't help but notice that you're 'full of shit' about this whole peace-love-togetherness/co-existence thing. It's all on your terms, so the irony gets really, really thick. You've created a 'World of Peace' mentality and left some people out of it. "Oh, never mind them," you seem to project, "Because THEY/them/That One Guy doesn't exist. Anymore. At all.")
Hypocrite. You don't walk your talk. (I'll know when you do.) You want peace and love and won't go through the actual steps of getting there.
Maybe bravery is in order.
I'm not a demon, you know. (?)
If this point in history is to be the end of individualism and selfishness, how will that reconcile itself with your continued/continuous/continual denial about our time together? You haven't once considered my soul, my feelings and memories, and done a single damn thing about it in thousands and thousands of days. (I don't even want to look that up, at this point. WAIT!!! Fuck it - it's been 7,732 days since you've spoken to me like a fellow human, with kindness, apathy, friendship. That is a big number.)
And we all know it is because of the residue of fear. A fear you can't beat just yet, and may never. We all know that 'coaching' doesn't involve the past, or seek any solutions to past issues, it's just an arrow forward, blind to the source, the context, the meaning. (And I had thought you were an acolyte of my world, a fellow shadow-warrior. Someone pulling discreet knobs in society, a lube on the gears, rather than being a monkey-wrench that never gets 'used' properly, or efficiently. You ended up being what you told me you were 'tired of being' - a "helper.")
I'm reminded of a lovely discussion I had years ago with a good pal I call 'Wheels." He's a neighbor, a friend, and a confidante. Incredible mind. We always find interesting topics to debate (even though we're usually on the same side) and this particular day found us asking...
"What is the difference between bravery and courage?"
Yes, it goes without saying that these kinds of answers can be found very quickly with our modern 'technomological' conveniences. I could just google it, right? But that's no fun for the sake of the discussion. So we consulted my trusty 1986 Merriam's/Websters' Dictionary, a voluminous red-fake-leather God of Information, a trusty ally of mine for decades now.
Wheels and I quickly dove into the roots of these words. Knowing a bit of French, 'coeur' came to mind - heart. After a bit of discussion, we came to the same conclusion that scholars had deciphered - bravery is an ongoing mental thing, an ethos, and courage is a momentary thing that springs from bravery meeting chaos, or perhaps it doesn't. Courage can come from nowhere, but bravery is cultivated. It's a mindset. Bravado has a place, and it isn't the end-run of cowardice.
If you live being as brave as you can, courage is a a side-effect. Unaffected, by a lack of bravery, courage blooms so slowly it never appears except in the midst of chaos, as a bystander. The heart takes over.
If I participate in this new 'belief system' (the one that accompanies HER new sense of a 'shift,' then I'll do ALL I can do to shed this anger, consciously. Been trying to do that for months and months, jogging with my dogs, as it were. Just writing about it has made things better in my mind. As far as I'm concerned, I had to reach across a great, invisible gulf to ask for her permission to 'quit hating her.' It wasn't about bravery, it was about honor, and courage.
"I don't love you,
And I always will..."
The Civil Wars, kicking duet butt in "Poison and Wine"
Late May, 1998. My lady and I were getting ready for a day-hike in the southern reaches of Grand Teton National Park. (Taggart Lake) We had been to Glacier NP, and Yellowstone NP, and seen bears. Lots of bears, both black and grizzly. On this day, after so many run-ins, we decided to be brave and not carry any bear-spray. The bears just hadn't been an issue, despite their proximity.
The trail led to the northwest, to a ridge between Bradley Lake and Taggart Lake, and then switch-backed to the south. At the top of the ridge, we met a couple who were busy looking downhill, at something we hadn't noticed. A bear, big guy at that. We mentioned that our best defense was to let that animal know we were there, and I suggested we sing or chant something. This couple, from upstate NY, didn't know any Led Zeppelin, Rolling Stones, or Beatles, any anything, so we started singing "My Darling Clementine" as we descended the switchbacks. A baby rattlesnake - just a toddler-snake, really - made them jump and over-react, and I realized they were profoundly afraid. Nature was a scary thing to them, in the raw.
The bear ambled towards the east side of Taggart Lake, basically along the direction of the trail, and my lady and I knew we had to keep noisy to drive it away from us. As the trail flattened, near the NE reach of the lake, we were bounded by an old fire/burn debris pile to the east, and the lake to the west. I picked up a suitable walking stick, maybe 5 feet long, a sapped-out, denuded pine branch. Don't know why, just did it.
Funneled into the trail, nowhere to go, our new mammal friend was waiting for us.
Twenty-odd feet away, he stood up on his hind legs, and began walking toward us.
And the other guy bolted. Ran for his life, back the way we'd come... the absolute last thing you should do. His wife was now hugging my shoulder, and my lady hugged the other. Without so much as a momentary thought, I knew we were in the 'shit' and I pulled out the only thing I had to fend off the bear - a mylar survival blanket. I tied it to the end of the stick in less than three seconds, and made an impromptu shiny-wall between the bear and the three of us. I began shaking it and moving TOWARDS the bear, expecting a flash of claws and whatever fate occurred after that.
That was that. It scared the bear away because I'm typing this now. My primary concern was for the women, and there was no conscious decision - it was an imperative. A lack of choice is a great focusing agent.
Maybe, that moment was the most courageous I've ever been. (Would've loved to be a 'fly on the wall' in the other couple's hotel room that night. You can't 'take back' cowardice regarding loved ones.)
Be brave. It's not a bad way to live. There is integrity in it.
Hope for courage, because you may need it at the times you least expect.
I dodged a (metaphorical) bullet once, and that bullet was you, Beatrix. I'm still alive.
Yes, that's a harsh assessment, but in hindsight, I knew things had that garish future to them. Reed College and the Renn Fair in May, 1991 come to mind. At that point, I just wanted to spend every conceivable moment of my life with you. I was under your particular spell. It worked. I was completely, utterly drawn in. And I believed what I said on that Port Townsend beach on May 30th...
(Here comes the inevitable 'however.')
Being cast out, persona-non-grata'ed, Clan Of The Cave Bear'ed - didn't sit well with what I'd already experienced and known. I'm far too grounded in paisleys of memory and training and schooling to 'pretend' like you wanted me to. You wanted a new reality and a new name. There was one iteration of your name - that I only used once and got 'fire eyes' from you - and it is your 4-letter 'friendly island name.' (My acceptable names were either 2 or 7 letters.)
But I get it now. For some reason, friendship with me was impossible in those days.
Friendship still exists, but you don't see it. Wake up! Leap the Elk has cultivated patience for a long, long, long time.
"I know you think that
I shouldn't still love you,
Or tell you that.
But if I didn't say it, I'd still have felt it,
Where's the sense in that?"
Dido, "White Flag" and it is applicable here.
I'm living in the real world, Beatrix-ter. When are you going to get here?
So tedious, this wait...
I didn't want to dodge that bullet, and I didn't know that 'you' were a bullet.
A real bullet may have done less long-term damage, isn't that a bitch?
Peace out, Fair Readers.
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