Met some people yesterday. Nice people. I have plenty of nice things to say about them, if I can only get over the resentment I feel towards them for being so awesome. Damn.
Getting that “small world” vibe again: Nadia and I trade blog addresses, and late last night I read that she is another one of Those (y’know, “Them”) and that yes, once again I am feeling some subtle cosmic shove in the back propelling me towards SF and all the “people like us”. Can’t seem to be able to say with certianty whether I’d be…
Intimidated by a surfeit of smart, well-travelled, expressive, educated, creative youngsters, or…
Just plain annoyed by a surfeit of smart, well-travelled, expressive, educated, creative youngsters.
I wonder if I just might be a little more of a small-town hick than I know.
My InnerGalit assures me that I just need to get into that comfortable place; with myself, with others, with settings that neither confine me nor amaze me into inactivity.
Bah. Too tired and depressed and cranky to work it all out.
You are currently browsing the archive for the philosophy category.
“One day everything will crash and everything will burn. Right now all that is burning is the belief that change can occur. We need to put out that fire and start a much bigger one.” – Ezakiah Valentine, from The Limitations of Progress, 1936
Now he’s dead. Karl is dead. Why is it that saying it that way sounds so bad? Maybe it’s ’cause when we say “Somebody died”, it’s like saying “Somebody ate beans”, or “Somebody wrote a letter”; it may be past tense, but it feels current, as if the person who has done these things is still around.
When we say, “Somebody is dead”, it’s a more solid statement like, “Somebody is in Greece”, or “Somebody is older than me.”
Is it just semantics? Karl is dead. This morning Scott numbly told me, “Karl passed away last night.”. To my ear it seems open-ended: where did Karl pass away to? What is he gonna do next?
I often wonder about my relationship with death. I hear these things, and in the silent moment afterwards, where people may be assuming I’m taking a moment to reflectively grieve, I’m actually wondering what reaction to show, what emotional demonstration (or appropriate lack thereof) is most called for.
Philosophicaly, I feel that death is part of life; we are each born, we live, and then we die. We all shit, we all die, and nobody much cares to discuss either. I’m fairly certain Karl himself would have had a good chuckle at all this…
Karl had a lousy death, at the end of a lousy loosing battle with cancer. Then again, he also had a rip-roarin’ life. It’s the latter I’ll remember him most for. He was a sailor, a husband, a father, a decent drunk; an all-around swell guy who looked out for his neighbors and more oft than not gave more than he received.
The rest of the crew took the day off to grieve. I said “Fuckit”, and got back to work on my boat. I think Karl would have approved.
Every once in awhile this certain thought pops into my head, summoned into existance by some otherwise unrelated chance encounter with people, places, or other thoughts themselves. In short, life is good; with each passing day, i am able to say anew, “This is the single-longest stretch of time since moving out of my parent’s home when i have not had to worry”. My accomodations aren’t luxurious, but i DO live on my own boat, rent-free. i’m not possessed of many close friends here, but i DO have the respect and support of a great local community of aquaintances, neighbors, and like-minded boat-folk. i’m not rich, but i DO always seem to have a few spare hundred in my pocket. i wouldn’t call my life luxurious, but if i want to go out for a meal, i go out (probably far too often); if i want to buy a new toy, i do; if i want to take a couple days off work to go sailing, i can.
When did this start? i trace it back and back and… oh yeah, things started getting better when Kim dumped me. Now, i’m not saying that there’s a connection there, just a matter of timing, i guess. Single life has been pretty good to me, at any rate. The only lady that demands my money and attention is Centaurea, and she’s pretty easy to satisfy; i mean, anything better than being abandoned here in the boatyard for another lifetime or two is a good thing for such a soulful boat.
i have my moody moments, but generally-speaking, i’d be hard-pressed to describe a bad day experienced since i moved here. The islands aren’t where i want to spend the rest of my life (or even another year, really), but it’s been a good run so far. i think i’m breaking even… balancing the scales. Making up for the shitty days.
“They say” that living well is the best revenge… well, yeah, maybe… i think that living well, really well, is what happens when you stop caring about revenge; when living well is just that, not “living better than”. Of course, it’s easy to feel morally positive when the basic needs are met; food, shelter, clothing, a boat, a dream…
For so long i wanted to take someone else on this ride. Now that i’m able to (financially and logistically), i find that i no longer really want to. But maybe that’s just breaking even again… the scale tips the other way, seasons revolve, and new adventures (surely, less lucrative ones, at that) beckon.
Recent Comments