The Boundless Freedom of the Unlimited Heavens

It has been a lonely season. September passed by without much fanfare, praise God, and with much more temperate and agreeable weather than previous years. October has come on now, with the lowest friend count in awhile, which has proffered up an unusually pronounced period of reflection over the absence of people in my life and how good, and simultaneously, how bad it feels. 

No gentleman callers? Not a problem, as I don’t want to even think about the word “relationship”. At this point friendship is ticklish, but the absence of it tends to boost and assault my self-esteem, all at the same time. The mornings are filled with quiet sunlight and still, cool air; the nights are filled with a sense of purposeless accomplishment and salvaged duty. Things have gotten somewhat better at the house, though we still have lots of things to consider (still planning on moving away)–now or not now, a wedding for Paul and CJ–that may or may not take place on Hallowe’en. And of course the other thing that bears consideration might be the extended possibility of a future nephew or niece for me, with some sort of banal, awful name that young parents give to particularly unattractive children. “Joe, I’d like for you to meet your new nephew, Gucci Armani Harley-Davidson Skullfire HotTopic.” Or, “Joe, I’d like for you to meet your new niece, Destiny Grace Starlight Twinkle Fairydust Horseshit Pink Barbara Otherkin Starfire PonyLove.” Then when I suggested a more attractive name for a boy, Ethan, CJ says to me, “You’ve got to be crazy thinking I’ll name a child a middle-class white boy name like that.” And I said, “I don’t think a brand name would get the kid into a good four-year college, now, would it?”

Mom and I have tired of Paul and CJ, and with good cause. For one, Paul’s behavior is now one where he simply looks at CJ and spends money. I gave him my class ring to pawn sell, to my mother’s horror. “I spent over $400 dollars on that ring.” When they came back with the money from the pawnshop, I said it was all right and that it would come back to us eventually. “It really didn’t mean much to me, aside from its value,” I said. “I mean, high school wasn’t all that good anyway.” Then there is CJ herself. At 17, she is the utter epitome of a spoiled, selfish, conventional and fairly uneducated girl with a penchant for dishonesty, as well as rabble-rousing. Just a couple of days ago I heard my long-unheard of aunt finally speak to Paul after several blissful weeks of non-intervention that she was uncomfortable with CJ “barging” into her house, attempting to talk to my cousin, to whom CJ has become good friends with. Clarissa, her other friend who used to come here quite frequently, is now gone, having been permanently attached herself to the loud, obnoxious friend of Paul’s, who fessed up to committing several counts of credit card fraud for the lulz. Inside part of me was both disgusted and fearful–the only reason, she says, my aunts have not intervened in this is because of “the lack of respect” we have for my dead grandfather’s house, not wanting to make the situation any more crazy, as it is. “Joe, too.” Whatever that means. 

At the gym my friend told me, “It’s time you look into doing things for yourself. Not even the Lord Jesus could save everybody, but he sure did try.” And this is precisely correct; from now on, I’m not even considering the grocery question unless it involves both me and my Mother. The dog’s influence on my emotions has waned somewhat, ever since she both pissed and shat on my bed, ruining a perfectly fine almanac that I collect every year. For the lulz, most likely.

And then there is the question of boys. Two gone now, and this time, Ryan almost threw his hands up on me after I ridiculed him for getting drunk and hungover (photographic evidence exists). This I did partly out of jealously and hatred for basically going back on his promise to stick around (he is planning on moving up to Little Rock with that cold-blooded businessman), but also out of a lulz-driven desire to see him fall flat on his face in a FAILtastic display of faggotry and butthurt. This came out of a fairly serious situation about two weeks ago: Ryan, defending himself from the slings and assails of an unruly child, slapped him in defense. The child’s overprotective mother filed a complaint, and Ryan quickly submitted a letter of resignation to protect his career and his interests. So that brief love with Pecos now done for, he is thinking of moving back to Presidio, since they need people there apparently, or moving to Midland/Odessa with Juan Carlos to start a new life together. Later I was apologetic and even conciliatory. It was too much, even if the temptation to exacerbate sweet LULZ was present, to make fun of Ryan, someone I love and will continue to love immensely. On the other hand, I think it was perfectly necessary–Ryan seems to know everything and to proceed swimmingly, avoiding FAIL all the time, and then rubbing it in my face. This incident just evened the playing field. 

Last week there was not just one rainbow, but three–two in the evening, both red and gallant, and then one in the brilliance of hot and humid, rain-filled afternoon, brilliant and low against the turbulent coal sky. Then came a calmer period of cool weather and more seasonable climate, filled with the undisturbed stillness, the calm of early autumn mornings and the dazzling intensity of azure skies. Early mornings filled with birdsong and morning stars, proffered by indigestion and ill posture in bed. What seems like palpitations. And now, nothing more than primitive evenings of perfect sunsets, clouds in the face of the sun, then the powder blue of a mysterious autumn evening full of moonlight and stars, the kind of moonlight that you see in Caspar David Friedrich paintings and sonatas by Beethoven.

Scott was kind enough to send me new CDs and new soaps from LUSH, as well as a couple of other things. He is the only person I talk to everyday, almost always at four here at the house, as I am coming off of an afternoon full of highs.