Lessons/Blessings 04/25/2010
Today Dad came into my room again, a few minutes after his first visit. He knocked again, I yelled admittance again from my seat on the bed, and in again he came, in his suit and tie, with his round belly, his bald head, his glasses in hand. He stopped quickly at the side of my bed, was looking at his hands, his glasses, unsure of words for the briefest second before his head came up. “I want you to know,” he said, “that I think you did a great job.” His voice danced on the words “you” and “great” while his watery eyes smiled and his face beamed. A beaming face will never reach the standard that my father’s set. This small man. I looked at him. He looked at me. This small son. I got up and hugged him and he repeated his simple feeling. “I just wanted you to know that.” When he left I heard Anna sounding surprised. “Dad? I thought you left already,” and my Dad saying, “Oh, I did.”
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Wowife from Outer Space 03/24/2010
I wish that they'd swoop down in a country lane
Late at night when I'm driving
Take me on board their beautiful ship
Show me the world as I'd love to see it
--Radiohead, "Subterranean Homesick Alien"
Late at night when I'm driving
Take me on board their beautiful ship
Show me the world as I'd love to see it
--Radiohead, "Subterranean Homesick Alien"
Sometimes aliens come to earth and abduct people. Seven months ago Liz came to earth and abducted me. It was on a voluntary basis: I was a willing subject, walking into the bowels of the thing, Richard Dryfuss-like, unsure and a little scared about the Unknown Ahead, but driven, inspired, awed, ensorcelled.
Here’s who I found inside.
Here’s who I found inside.
A witch.
An Indian.
An intergalactic Viking!
A carpenter.
A hippy singer-songwriter.
A friend.
A part-time mother.
A hungry dinosaur.
A diva.
An actress.
A vintage beauty.
A lover.
"Wow."
I've never wanted so much to stay lost in space, in the light and dust, going wherever the gravities pull. Seven months? Give me more. If there's an end to the universe, we'll make a new one and carry on.
I've never wanted so much to stay lost in space, in the light and dust, going wherever the gravities pull. Seven months? Give me more. If there's an end to the universe, we'll make a new one and carry on.
Spooning: Preparation 03/14/2010
This is Brit Daniels. He’s a Texan with Irish heritage and a voice like a dust-covered McCartney/Lennon. He founded a band called Spoon in the 90’s that you might have heard recently on the radio (but probably haven’t).
My 5 Top Favorite Bands of All Time:
1. Pearl Jam
2. Soundgarden
3. Tool
4. Radiohead
5. Spoon (yay!)
My 5 Top Favorite Bands of All Time:
1. Pearl Jam
2. Soundgarden
3. Tool
4. Radiohead
5. Spoon (yay!)
This is Transference, Spoon’s newest album (released January 18, 2010) that they’re currently touring behind—a tour that has garnered mounds of critical praise and that will be making a stop in Utah on April 7, a Wednesday. Liz and I will be there.
Spoon is hard to describe, so don't ask me what makes them so darn special because I have no idea what it is. They've got grit. They've got pulsation. They've got a Mexican horn section in a song or two.
Spoon is hard to describe, so don't ask me what makes them so darn special because I have no idea what it is. They've got grit. They've got pulsation. They've got a Mexican horn section in a song or two.
Consider this a whetting of the pallet---a light breeze (and mixed-metaphor) of preparation for the multitude of comments that I have within me concerning Spoon. But for now I'm going to bed.
Stand aside. I may puke.
I recently had the complete honor of portraying the Porter in BYU-I's production of Shakespeare’s Macbeth. It kicked solid butt.
The porter scene exists in Macbeth because the Macbeths have just killed King Duncan and need to wash blood off their hands so they can be onstage for the very next scene. Even though the porter is a kind of bookmark, he’s got a lot to say about hell, equivocation and lechery, some of which comes out in the form of knock-knock jokes. (Willy was such a good writer that he could invent a new joke-telling archetype that would endure for centuries just because he needed it to suit one scene for one character. That’s rad.)
The approach that the director allowed me to take with the porter scene was very improvisational and smashed right through the 4th wall, straight into the laps of the audience (literally). I followed the structure of the scene as Bill wrote it, and most of what I say are the porter’s exact lines… but there's definitely extra. Liz and a couple other members of the cast came up with ideas for additional hell-related knock-knock jokes, and other “extra” stuff came out on stage as a way of involving the audience in what I was saying, and also as a response to their involvement when they started ad-libbing lines of their own.
Audiences made each night different and alive and marvelous. Here are the highlights:
Porter: “Knock-knock.”
One Girl: “Who’s there?”
Porter: “Well, she’s on the ball.“
Porter: “Knock-knock.”
Audience: “WHO’S THERE?”
Porter: “Interrupting hell-hound.”
Audience: “INTERRUPTING HE—“ (Porter leaps screaming from the stage into the lap of an audience-member, who begins to shake his head. Porter presses forehead to audience-member’s forehead and they are both shaking heads, as though disapproving.)
Porter: “You’re not very amused by all this, are you?”
Porter: “Faith, sir, we were carousing til the second cock—and drink, sir, is a great provoker of three things.”
Macduff: “What three things does drink especially provoke?”
Porter: “Marry, sir; nose painting! (Laughing) Because it’s alcohol. (Chuckling quickly transforms to a look of disappointment at the silent audience.) You Mormons wouldn’t understand that.”
Porter: “You start the next one. On the count of three: 1, 2, 3!”
Audience: “KNOCK-KNOCK!”
Porter: “Who’s there?”
Audience: *silence*
Porter: “You’re bad at this.”
Knocking at the door.
Porter: “Knock knock kn—“
Audience: “WHO’S THERE?”
Porter: “I’m talking to the door now.”
Porter: “You start the next one. On the count of three: 1, 2, 3!”
Audience: “KNOCK-KNOCK!”
Porter: “Who’s there?”
Guy: “Boo!”
Porter: (Leerily) “Boo who?”
Guy: “You don’t need to cry about it!”
Porter: (Bursts into tears, striken) “You’re not supposed to talk back to meee!”
More knocking at the door.
Porter: (To door) “Knock knock knock, never at quiet! What are you!? (To audience) Who are we? Where are we? What city is this?”
Audience members: “Rexburg.”
Porter: “Rexburg? Hoo, this place is too cold for hell.”
Porter: “I had thought to let in some of all professions who go the primrose way to the everlasting bonfire! People like politicians! That means YOU! (Pointing to baby-faced young woman) Yes! Don't smile at me like that! And actors, definitely actors. Horrible people. And, uhhm—“
Random Girl: “Florists!”
Porter: “Oh no, not them. They’re very sweet.”
Porter: “You start the next one. On the count of three: 1, 2, 3!”
Audience: “KNOCK-KNOCK!”
Porter: “Who’s there?”
Guy: “John!”
Porter: “John who?”
Guy: “John Doe!”
Porter: “Well, yes, that joke is crappy enough to get into hell.”
The porter scene exists in Macbeth because the Macbeths have just killed King Duncan and need to wash blood off their hands so they can be onstage for the very next scene. Even though the porter is a kind of bookmark, he’s got a lot to say about hell, equivocation and lechery, some of which comes out in the form of knock-knock jokes. (Willy was such a good writer that he could invent a new joke-telling archetype that would endure for centuries just because he needed it to suit one scene for one character. That’s rad.)
The approach that the director allowed me to take with the porter scene was very improvisational and smashed right through the 4th wall, straight into the laps of the audience (literally). I followed the structure of the scene as Bill wrote it, and most of what I say are the porter’s exact lines… but there's definitely extra. Liz and a couple other members of the cast came up with ideas for additional hell-related knock-knock jokes, and other “extra” stuff came out on stage as a way of involving the audience in what I was saying, and also as a response to their involvement when they started ad-libbing lines of their own.
Audiences made each night different and alive and marvelous. Here are the highlights:
Porter: “Knock-knock.”
One Girl: “Who’s there?”
Porter: “Well, she’s on the ball.“
Porter: “Knock-knock.”
Audience: “WHO’S THERE?”
Porter: “Interrupting hell-hound.”
Audience: “INTERRUPTING HE—“ (Porter leaps screaming from the stage into the lap of an audience-member, who begins to shake his head. Porter presses forehead to audience-member’s forehead and they are both shaking heads, as though disapproving.)
Porter: “You’re not very amused by all this, are you?”
Porter: “Faith, sir, we were carousing til the second cock—and drink, sir, is a great provoker of three things.”
Macduff: “What three things does drink especially provoke?”
Porter: “Marry, sir; nose painting! (Laughing) Because it’s alcohol. (Chuckling quickly transforms to a look of disappointment at the silent audience.) You Mormons wouldn’t understand that.”
Porter: “You start the next one. On the count of three: 1, 2, 3!”
Audience: “KNOCK-KNOCK!”
Porter: “Who’s there?”
Audience: *silence*
Porter: “You’re bad at this.”
Knocking at the door.
Porter: “Knock knock kn—“
Audience: “WHO’S THERE?”
Porter: “I’m talking to the door now.”
Porter: “You start the next one. On the count of three: 1, 2, 3!”
Audience: “KNOCK-KNOCK!”
Porter: “Who’s there?”
Guy: “Boo!”
Porter: (Leerily) “Boo who?”
Guy: “You don’t need to cry about it!”
Porter: (Bursts into tears, striken) “You’re not supposed to talk back to meee!”
More knocking at the door.
Porter: (To door) “Knock knock knock, never at quiet! What are you!? (To audience) Who are we? Where are we? What city is this?”
Audience members: “Rexburg.”
Porter: “Rexburg? Hoo, this place is too cold for hell.”
Porter: “I had thought to let in some of all professions who go the primrose way to the everlasting bonfire! People like politicians! That means YOU! (Pointing to baby-faced young woman) Yes! Don't smile at me like that! And actors, definitely actors. Horrible people. And, uhhm—“
Random Girl: “Florists!”
Porter: “Oh no, not them. They’re very sweet.”
Porter: “You start the next one. On the count of three: 1, 2, 3!”
Audience: “KNOCK-KNOCK!”
Porter: “Who’s there?”
Guy: “John!”
Porter: “John who?”
Guy: “John Doe!”
Porter: “Well, yes, that joke is crappy enough to get into hell.”
"There's Jam on your face, Brigham." 03/05/2010
Talkbacks for Macbeth last night were eye-widening. I rephrase a comment from Meredith Bellows, who plays Lady Macbeth:
“We all have witches in our lives. They are the evil thoughts, the evil temptations, the destructive forces, and even though they are only one of the voices we can listen to, it’s easy to hear them more than others. We choose whether or not we listen to the witches.”
Too often, I reflect on life having eyes only for what’s not working flawlessly. When this happens, I always come to the conclusion that this semester is the semester from hell. How shortsighted. Maybe there is a hell, and maybe it is bothering me, but the fact of hell also requires the fact of heaven. There’s always more going on than just collapse and ruin.
Brigham Young once announced that a new temple was to be built among the members of the church. Some church members expressed reluctance to move forward with it, saying “We never start building a new temple without all the bells of hell beginning to clang.” Brigham’s response?
“I want to hear them ring again.”
In this same BRING IT ON! spirit, here’s a dual list of things. Each entry has 2 parts: The first part will denote bits of hell going on, and the second part will denote what makes the hell bits okay.
What’s Wrong: I lost my glasses.
Why It’s Okay: I have contacts, and a fiancé to help me put them in. Plus, I’ll find the glasses. They’re always somewhere.
What’s Wrong: Macbeth is a vampire sucking energy through a straw. We’re in our 3rd week of performances, but have been devoting 5 hours a night for the past 2 months.
Why It’s Okay: It’s been hugely rewarding, educational, and fun. To be in the Macbeth cast is to be surrounded by greatness. The cast and crew are filled with wise and talented kids, the audiences have been thoughtful and receptive, and the vision of our directors is empowering. Telling a powerful story in a powerful way empowers everyone because it invites the companionship of the spirit and enables all to communicate by that same spirit. And… the show closes Saturday.
What’s Wrong: I’m behind in most classes and have lacked energy and desire to catch up. A vampire, Macbeth, is partly to blame, but in general I’ve bitten off more than I was ready to chew this semester.
Why It’s Okay: The show closes Saturday, so I will have the time I want to devote to classes and still be able to relax. If I fail a class, I can repent and take it again.
What’s Wrong: I’ll be continuing my work as a 4am custodial worker again next week.
Why It’s Okay: Macbeth will be over and won’t be able to keep me from sleep. (I sense a pattern of thinking all my problems will be solved once Macbeth is dead. It’s like I’m an actual Scotsman.) Also, I’ll have money again, and I’ll be saving it for use once Liz and I are MARRIED!
What’s Wrong: I’m not perfect, and I let my imperfection get to me. I ‘listen to the witches.’
Why It’s Okay: No one’s perfect. Christ’s Atonement is real, and needing the Atonement doesn’t make me somehow sub-human. Needing the atonement is the very purpose of life—the definition of humanity. I also have friends and family who love me. As LizAnne has said, “We’re all here to save eachother” (paraphrased). I’m marrying her.
What’s Wrong: I’m impatient for July 10th.
Why It’s Okay: It will get here. The meantime will be busy. I will read Ulysses by James Joyce, and spend a lot of time wondering whether I actually am inspired by it, or whether I just want to be literary. I will be doing 300 crunches a day, seeing Spoon in concert with Lizanne, and learning to dance.
So (cue “Hell’s Bells” by AC/DC) bring it on.
More jam.
“We all have witches in our lives. They are the evil thoughts, the evil temptations, the destructive forces, and even though they are only one of the voices we can listen to, it’s easy to hear them more than others. We choose whether or not we listen to the witches.”
Too often, I reflect on life having eyes only for what’s not working flawlessly. When this happens, I always come to the conclusion that this semester is the semester from hell. How shortsighted. Maybe there is a hell, and maybe it is bothering me, but the fact of hell also requires the fact of heaven. There’s always more going on than just collapse and ruin.
Brigham Young once announced that a new temple was to be built among the members of the church. Some church members expressed reluctance to move forward with it, saying “We never start building a new temple without all the bells of hell beginning to clang.” Brigham’s response?
“I want to hear them ring again.”
In this same BRING IT ON! spirit, here’s a dual list of things. Each entry has 2 parts: The first part will denote bits of hell going on, and the second part will denote what makes the hell bits okay.
What’s Wrong: I lost my glasses.
Why It’s Okay: I have contacts, and a fiancé to help me put them in. Plus, I’ll find the glasses. They’re always somewhere.
What’s Wrong: Macbeth is a vampire sucking energy through a straw. We’re in our 3rd week of performances, but have been devoting 5 hours a night for the past 2 months.
Why It’s Okay: It’s been hugely rewarding, educational, and fun. To be in the Macbeth cast is to be surrounded by greatness. The cast and crew are filled with wise and talented kids, the audiences have been thoughtful and receptive, and the vision of our directors is empowering. Telling a powerful story in a powerful way empowers everyone because it invites the companionship of the spirit and enables all to communicate by that same spirit. And… the show closes Saturday.
What’s Wrong: I’m behind in most classes and have lacked energy and desire to catch up. A vampire, Macbeth, is partly to blame, but in general I’ve bitten off more than I was ready to chew this semester.
Why It’s Okay: The show closes Saturday, so I will have the time I want to devote to classes and still be able to relax. If I fail a class, I can repent and take it again.
What’s Wrong: I’ll be continuing my work as a 4am custodial worker again next week.
Why It’s Okay: Macbeth will be over and won’t be able to keep me from sleep. (I sense a pattern of thinking all my problems will be solved once Macbeth is dead. It’s like I’m an actual Scotsman.) Also, I’ll have money again, and I’ll be saving it for use once Liz and I are MARRIED!
What’s Wrong: I’m not perfect, and I let my imperfection get to me. I ‘listen to the witches.’
Why It’s Okay: No one’s perfect. Christ’s Atonement is real, and needing the Atonement doesn’t make me somehow sub-human. Needing the atonement is the very purpose of life—the definition of humanity. I also have friends and family who love me. As LizAnne has said, “We’re all here to save eachother” (paraphrased). I’m marrying her.
What’s Wrong: I’m impatient for July 10th.
Why It’s Okay: It will get here. The meantime will be busy. I will read Ulysses by James Joyce, and spend a lot of time wondering whether I actually am inspired by it, or whether I just want to be literary. I will be doing 300 crunches a day, seeing Spoon in concert with Lizanne, and learning to dance.
So (cue “Hell’s Bells” by AC/DC) bring it on.
More jam.
Whisper 02/01/2010
Can you keep a secret? I'm trying to organize a prison break. I'm looking for, like, an accomplice. We have to first get out of this bar, then the hotel, then the city, and then the country. Are you in or you out?
Whit 01/24/2010
Best 5 months of my life.
A Radiant Woman Was Born 12/28/2009
And She Is Our Mamma!!
You were born today, Mother, and we are going to talk about you.
Camilla, the 16-year-old
In Texas, when we got [our completely crazy dog] Patty, Mom didn’t seem to enjoy having her around, to be honest. But, when it came to the point where we had to give Patty away, mom sat right down and cried with the rest of us. She really cared about Patty, and that was important to me because I really liked Patty.
Mom cares about EVERYONE. If she notices someone who needs something or is lonely, she becomes their friend and helps them out and doesn’t just leave them. Like Florence Ward, who’s in our ward. She really befriended Florence, invites her over here, goes and visits her, is always there for her. That is super cool to me.
Laura, the 14-year-old
Mom is hilarious. She giggled with me through all of Julie and Julia—even parts that I feared she wouldn’t find tasteful. ‘Twas a good bonding time!
And she takes opportunities to create memories. We were driving around town one day and went to the Sugar Mill, which was fun. Before leaving Mom said “Hey! I forgot to give you guys your grade money. Let’s go to the mall!” We bought lots of clothes and celebrated.
Anna, the 11-year-old
The most important thing I learned from Mom is that, when someone gets something, you don’t touch and rip apart their stuff without asking. Because it’s their belongings, not mine.
Mom cares about what we think and do, and she tries to help us. Like when we moved from Texas and came here to Idaho. I missed Texas a lot, and I was looking at the Texas temple on a poster that I had. I was crying, and she hugged me and said “It’s fine, we’ll go back and see it again someday.”
Jacob, the youngest child
Mom listens and relates to my frustrations. I have sat countless times at the foot of her bed and wailed my sorrows, trying to solve all the mysteries in my life, and mom understands my need to wail, and lets me go for it. She has been encouraging and empathizing.
What’s incredible about Mom is that she moves forward relentlessly, and always with a pleasant, genuine, smile. She does not stop. She keeps going, seeking to be supportive. In recent months when she had very real concerens about a relationship I was in, she was outwardly very positive and helpful about choices I was making, trying to overcome her concerns quietly and be supportive of me. So many of my experiences are memorable because of mom’s presence there.
The Ghost of Adele
Although Adele isn't dead yet, she isn't easy to contact. I'm her ghost. I love my mom! She taught me how to be a mom, and I've been mothery since childhood, thanks to mom. Thanks Mom! Feliz cumpleanos!
Ted, the Dog
Woof! The cat and I aren't your children, but we still love you, Kristi!
Shasta, the Cat
I'm still out here. Can someone come pet me?
Everyone Together
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOM! WE LOVE YOU AND WE THANK YOU FOR YOUR WISDOM AND YOUR SMILES AND YOUR ENDLESS LABOR ON OUR BEHALF! HOPE YOUR 35TH BIRTHDAY IS YOUR BEST YET!
Camilla, the 16-year-old
In Texas, when we got [our completely crazy dog] Patty, Mom didn’t seem to enjoy having her around, to be honest. But, when it came to the point where we had to give Patty away, mom sat right down and cried with the rest of us. She really cared about Patty, and that was important to me because I really liked Patty.
Mom cares about EVERYONE. If she notices someone who needs something or is lonely, she becomes their friend and helps them out and doesn’t just leave them. Like Florence Ward, who’s in our ward. She really befriended Florence, invites her over here, goes and visits her, is always there for her. That is super cool to me.
Laura, the 14-year-old
Mom is hilarious. She giggled with me through all of Julie and Julia—even parts that I feared she wouldn’t find tasteful. ‘Twas a good bonding time!
And she takes opportunities to create memories. We were driving around town one day and went to the Sugar Mill, which was fun. Before leaving Mom said “Hey! I forgot to give you guys your grade money. Let’s go to the mall!” We bought lots of clothes and celebrated.
Anna, the 11-year-old
The most important thing I learned from Mom is that, when someone gets something, you don’t touch and rip apart their stuff without asking. Because it’s their belongings, not mine.
Mom cares about what we think and do, and she tries to help us. Like when we moved from Texas and came here to Idaho. I missed Texas a lot, and I was looking at the Texas temple on a poster that I had. I was crying, and she hugged me and said “It’s fine, we’ll go back and see it again someday.”
Jacob, the youngest child
Mom listens and relates to my frustrations. I have sat countless times at the foot of her bed and wailed my sorrows, trying to solve all the mysteries in my life, and mom understands my need to wail, and lets me go for it. She has been encouraging and empathizing.
What’s incredible about Mom is that she moves forward relentlessly, and always with a pleasant, genuine, smile. She does not stop. She keeps going, seeking to be supportive. In recent months when she had very real concerens about a relationship I was in, she was outwardly very positive and helpful about choices I was making, trying to overcome her concerns quietly and be supportive of me. So many of my experiences are memorable because of mom’s presence there.
The Ghost of Adele
Although Adele isn't dead yet, she isn't easy to contact. I'm her ghost. I love my mom! She taught me how to be a mom, and I've been mothery since childhood, thanks to mom. Thanks Mom! Feliz cumpleanos!
Ted, the Dog
Woof! The cat and I aren't your children, but we still love you, Kristi!
Shasta, the Cat
I'm still out here. Can someone come pet me?
Everyone Together
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOM! WE LOVE YOU AND WE THANK YOU FOR YOUR WISDOM AND YOUR SMILES AND YOUR ENDLESS LABOR ON OUR BEHALF! HOPE YOUR 35TH BIRTHDAY IS YOUR BEST YET!
Lucky To Have Been Where I Have Been 12/24/2009
Normally I stayed at work til 7:00, and even though this day I got off 10 minutes early, I still walked into the actor’s studio late. Typical. I was stressed and worried about a few things—huge, heavy things, I thought. Walking into the room blew me away.
The room was arranged for our rehearsal, with chairs encircling the set in the round in the same way we were to perform later that day. A song was playing.
* * *
We’d spent what might amount to hours of pure conversation, Nancy and Liz and I, talking about the characters that Liz and I were portraying, figuring them out, their ages and personalities, habits and responsibilities, ideologies and temperaments. We named them after real-life people—Janice Joplin and C.S. Lewis—because, really, to Liz and I, that’s who they were.
And we decided on as much as we could about Janice and Jack’s relationship—intellectual, emotional, physical. Their marriage was not perfect. But it was so fun, so beautiful, so wonderful, what they provided for each other and that they craved each other, really did want and need each other.
Jack was me with a light British accent. Janice was Liz with a blanket under her shirt. With Liz, for the first time, I saw what was possible in a marriage, in a relationship. It looked like gold. Seeing colors for the first time. Remembering.
* * *
The song was “I Want You” by Bob Dylan. I don’t think I’d heard it before. I was stressed and worried, heavy, and wanted more than anything in the whole world to feel what Bob Dylan felt toward his woman. The chorus tore me. It was my crisis moment.
I want you
I want you
I want you
So bad
I didn’t have it. I just didn’t.
I looked at Liz. She is so beautiful and wonderful. Looking at her I thought of Jack and Janice, and knew I could not get this thing, this incredible, lightningish reciprocal lifelong joyful journey, by continuing the direction my life was headed.
I cried, but I stifled it as much as possible, and I don’t think Nancy or Liz noticed.
* * *
It’s not like we’re even married. Our relationship isn’t perfect. I’m still a man who stresses and worries, but mostly because I’m afraid of my slippery fingers dropping and smashing this. I want you too much!
After four months, infatuated, enamored, starstruck I remain. Liz must be a dream. Is she a dream?
“Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. That's why I'm going to stand by the play-world.”
A weird place to quote the Chronicles of Narnia, perhaps--but…
The room was arranged for our rehearsal, with chairs encircling the set in the round in the same way we were to perform later that day. A song was playing.
* * *
We’d spent what might amount to hours of pure conversation, Nancy and Liz and I, talking about the characters that Liz and I were portraying, figuring them out, their ages and personalities, habits and responsibilities, ideologies and temperaments. We named them after real-life people—Janice Joplin and C.S. Lewis—because, really, to Liz and I, that’s who they were.
And we decided on as much as we could about Janice and Jack’s relationship—intellectual, emotional, physical. Their marriage was not perfect. But it was so fun, so beautiful, so wonderful, what they provided for each other and that they craved each other, really did want and need each other.
Jack was me with a light British accent. Janice was Liz with a blanket under her shirt. With Liz, for the first time, I saw what was possible in a marriage, in a relationship. It looked like gold. Seeing colors for the first time. Remembering.
* * *
The song was “I Want You” by Bob Dylan. I don’t think I’d heard it before. I was stressed and worried, heavy, and wanted more than anything in the whole world to feel what Bob Dylan felt toward his woman. The chorus tore me. It was my crisis moment.
I want you
I want you
I want you
So bad
I didn’t have it. I just didn’t.
I looked at Liz. She is so beautiful and wonderful. Looking at her I thought of Jack and Janice, and knew I could not get this thing, this incredible, lightningish reciprocal lifelong joyful journey, by continuing the direction my life was headed.
I cried, but I stifled it as much as possible, and I don’t think Nancy or Liz noticed.
* * *
It’s not like we’re even married. Our relationship isn’t perfect. I’m still a man who stresses and worries, but mostly because I’m afraid of my slippery fingers dropping and smashing this. I want you too much!
After four months, infatuated, enamored, starstruck I remain. Liz must be a dream. Is she a dream?
“Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. That's why I'm going to stand by the play-world.”
A weird place to quote the Chronicles of Narnia, perhaps--but…
...That would make sense, wouldn't it?
Limerick Love 11/30/2009
FROM LIZ TO ME:
I'm dating a fellow named Jake,
whose affection's deep as a lake.
He kisses my lips,
with his hands on my hips,
and my heart starts to sizzle and bake.
FROM ME TO LIZ:
I'm dating a girl named "Lizanne"
(the antonym of tryptophan).
I'm ablaze and afire,
like a big flaming choir,
everytime she holds my hand.
I'm dating a fellow named Jake,
whose affection's deep as a lake.
He kisses my lips,
with his hands on my hips,
and my heart starts to sizzle and bake.
FROM ME TO LIZ:
I'm dating a girl named "Lizanne"
(the antonym of tryptophan).
I'm ablaze and afire,
like a big flaming choir,
everytime she holds my hand.
