Sometimes things happen and you find yourself somewhere between the familiar landscape of heartbreak and hope.
You look out the window of the train and pray it stops on the right side of the tracks but hold your breath because you know you can’t do a damn thing to impact it.
All you can do is hold on and see what happens.
It makes me think of sucker punches and suckers.
Of Fury & Rage
Hit some pretty big bumps in the road and found myself involved in an unexpected and unnecessary struggle.
Took a deep breath and told myself to do as I tell the kids to do, “breathe, think, breathe and work it out.”
And then I discovered the cause of the struggle could be traced back to an intentional act by someone else.
That brought out my inner Taurus and the horns were lowered and I had to work hard to not go out on a mission of seek-and-destroy.
In the midst of it all music rescues the moment.
Sophie B. Hawkins singing Damn, I Wish I Was Your Lover.
Suddenly it is 1992 and I am all of 23 and hanging out in a bar in Santa Monica with some of the boys. The song comes on and a group of girls start dancing and singing along.
A couple of them are staring at us and weÂ work extra hard to try and look cool while simultaneously debating whether they’re serious or not.
“That blond wants me.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she is staring hard.”
“You’re an idiot, she is staring at me.”
I listen the guys go back and forth and occasionally add myÂ own comments. I am not convinced they have any interest in us and am not sure I want to be the guy to walk over to the group and get shot down.
“Jack, I’ll bet $20 dollars you can’t get a phone number.”
I smile and tell him I’ll take his money.
I walk over to the group and tell them I need their help.
“My friend bet me $20 I can’t get one of your telephone numbers. He is a cocky pain in my ass. If you give me a number that I can bring back I’ll take his money and give you the $20.”
One of the girls smiles kisses my cheek and then writes down a number and sends me back across the bar.
I take the $20, turn and deliver it.
Some hours later I try the number and get an answering machine upon which I leave a message. The call is never returned.
Sucker Punches & Suckers
I don’t know that I agree with Freud but I have told the kids there is a benefit to struggling.
You learn how to appreciate what you have and the work it to took to gain/acquire and or obtain it.
Most of the time I believe it to be true and feel like I ought to be open to one day looking back upon the beauty of the struggle.
But the thing is I am killing myself right now to make the things work and worrying about a million different things,
I am busting my ass to not get knocked upon it by another sucker punch or punches and wondering if maybe I am the sucker.