I want you!

I'm listening to the Beatles. Listening to "I want you," and thinking about it, or maybe feeling it. I forget from time to time how much of the Beatles was about raw emotions, life and love. How many of you have had that kind of a day, or hour or week. "I want you so bad, it's driving me mad.'

Aren't we supposed to grow out of that as we age. does it still happen to you. Are you still in love with some one, desperately. Spouse, friend, ex, lover etc. wheres your desire, what do you desire. Passion and desire for what ever is a movable feast. It's the motivation we use to set our engines revving to accomplish something. With out these fiery smoldering underpinnings we'd be nothing. we'd be shadow people gliding through life with little or no attachment to it.

Ever notice how we adore and idolize those few who push the envelope, who really go for it. The hero's, the explores, the people who take the risks. Were in love w/ poets, thieves, scallywag's, musicians, serial killers and the like. We claim to hate them and yet were fascinated. Any one who lives outside the norm, pushing the envelope, revealing the mysteries of life. Altering conciousness where ever they go.

Kerouac, Manson, Armstrong, Earhart and all the others. pushing, striving for God knows what. scaring the shit out of all of us as we watch with bated breath, wondering why they do it. wishing we could do it too. So, I want you, or some thing. So bad it's driving me mad. Life with out Passion is like breasts with out nipples. Salt with out pepper, cats with out hair and chicken with out the KFC. (Did i say that?) Christ that barista is gorgeous! Where's my crash helmet?

Enlightenment & Ice Cream

Nirvana?
Something about those moments when your able to indulge yourself in a small pleasure that makes it all work for me. Ice cream, vanilla bean to be exact is not my downfall, but the ting that lifts me up for a few glorious moments.

While rushing headlong into that abyss that is the end, the great unknown, I am able at times to stop myself, forcibly, if only for a moment to suspend time. I go to the fridge and gently remove the container of creamy frozen goo I love. It's almost like a rare seldom used ritual I have. It is my reward for a job well done, a week of stress, an outpouring of energy and concern while I madly juggle the lives of others around me. Dancing on the head of a pin with so many invisible angels while calling up lists, scenarios and machinations by the dozens. Mad plans for what we will do, how it will be done and what it might accomplish. It's the ritualized dance of the madman as he tells himself that some how it all matters, while knowing full well that little matters except perhaps love, honor and acceptance of the knowledge that all is illusion, impermanence.

When I pass the point where all is good, I know that nothing matters except the sun on my face, a child's bright smile, the shade of blue in that particular corner of the sky today I am ready. Ready to stop, sit down with a bowl of frozen forgetfulness. Nothing exists, save for the moment, the first breath of cold as the spoon nears my tongue. The flash, then flood of flavor as the first taste washes over my taste buds alerting my brain that something wonderful is in the offing. Cool, carnal, licentious bliss. Nothing exists, I am all tongue, taste buds and having given in to the moment I am awash with joy. I am all simple childish giddiness as I begin to revert to moments gone by when all that mattered was the flavor of that first scoop. My soul for a while belongs only to me, the moment and my Ice Cream...