Time approaches, recedes.
This weekend, a friend comes to town. I will drive in to Berkeley / SF to meet him. We might go see a rock-soul revival band. The Alabama Shakes at the Greek Theater. I haven't bought a ticket yet. They are expensive, at least to my waning financials. $100. Who cares though, really. Didn't I just cite the title of a study here recently which claimed that people who spend money on experiences are generally happier than people that spend money on things.
Didn't I?
Then, hopefully a day with the boy before I depart for NYC. I will attend a Greek baby baptisma. I will try not to discuss the pagan significance of sacraments and induction.
Try.
Speaking of, I think they should induct Pete Rose into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. If anybody within the realm of that circus had any sense then they would, just to prove that they still have some shred of rock credibility left in them.
Because what can be more rock-n-roll than having an issue with compulsive behavior(s), and honoring it.
What?, I ask.
Honorary Inductee: Charlie Hustle.
Or, maybe they should induct him as Charlie's Hustles. The words induct and indict are funly similar.
His alias sounds as if he was a drug dealer to the stars. Charlie's Hustles: When it absolutely, positively has to stay up overnight... When I lived in the East Village there was also a guy there known as Charlie Hustle, though for different reasons, I suspect.
Lots of Greek so far in this post. I will miss Greek Easter this Sunday in NYC, and the delicious leg of lamb that pleases God with it. My visiting buddy, Pete, and I have agreed to have a Sunday roast anyway. He is English, so it is what we should do, though we might not do lamb, etc.
Our lamb has conquered, let us follow him.
It makes no mention of eating him, though we know that to be a component of transubstantiation, a bit of Catholic wizardry.
Our lamb has conquered... That's Moravian! If I ever was going to convert to Christianity then I would adopt one of the odd Eastern European sects. Bohemia, unite!
I have an expatriate friend relocating from Prague to SF soon. I greatly look forward to it. Since moving here, for the nearly exclusive purpose of satisfying the dreams of another, I have felt more physically, emotionally and geographically isolated than ever before in my life.
Now, I am happiest when caring for my son, but get bored and lonely when he is not with me. This is not the life that I would have chosen, at all. Well, perhaps half of it is. It is a consequence of trying to make another person happy. Big mistake, that.
Having social time is a luxury for some and a requirement for others. I am among the latter group. I am given over to dark moods when left alone for any period of time. So, I find temporary happiness and solace in chatting with others.
The impact of loneliness on another is difficult to assess. This is particularly true when the assessors are not isolated, nor necessarily lonely. They know about it most of all. You can guarantee that the authorities on anguish don't allow themselves to endure very much of it. That is what makes them such experts, and in a small town the experts are always everywhere.
There is a greater concentration of expertise the more distance you put between people. It is known as the inverse prowess of the vacuum ratio. People come from miles around just to be near it, to drink in its warmth.
There's no love quite like country love.
There's no love quite like country love.
.
