19 November 2005

Bowling alley sign

First of all, I think this bowling alley sign is totally kicking ass and taking names:



Secondly, the more I learn about Johnny Cash, the better I feel about  life and about adding him to my list of heros.

Thirdly, today on the treadmill, I ran 5 km in 30 minutes and 17 seconds. For those of you not familiar with the metric system or how fat my ass is, it's quite an accomplishment.

That's off my chest.

Personal history can be a bull. Here's why: what happens to us has so much power over how we act in the future and what we become. For starters? I've been thinking about how I learned about sex through pornography and how that might be linked to adult, you know, pornographic tendencies. This guy seems to think so. The point is, We may be through with the past, but the past ain't through with us.

So we don't have sex with our lovers. Every man I know "struggles" (and now I strike that word from my vocabulary) with masturbation, but Christian unmarried couples double over in guilt from a hand on a breast. One is worse than the other, don't lie yourself. We are hypocrites, all of us. We think that the consquences are greater for having sex than living in pornographic fanastyland. So one gets a hand on the shoulder and a, "Well, Lenny, I'll be praying for you about that one" and the other gets you thrown into hell. Get married early, hold it until the wedding night, and find out that your years of individual sexual deviancy have fucked you over more than you think? I gotta say, I'm not impressed.

We may be through with the past, but the past is not through with us: I was studying today in an all-night diner and had this sudden overwhelming sense that Yoko was going to come with another man, that she was cheating on me. I watched the door all night long. No reason to feel this way at all, except that the last woman left me for another man. I used to do the same thing for my last two years in the states: everytime I was in Chicago--watch doors, feel unstable in public places. Apples and oranges: two worlds apart, two entirely different people, two entirely different times of life, but the same feeling. The past ain't through with us.

Laugh at this if you want, I don't care: Conor Oberst has sung, "How grateful I was then to be part of the mystery, to love and be loved. Let's just hope that is enough." And I think that might really be the point of all this: to love and to be loved. I'm trying to decide if there needs to be God for that to make sense. I don't know, really. I'd like to think so, but Agnostic Stephe-o has other plans. We'll see who wins.
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