Hate alone is not enough to nourish. But there’s rage too.

This is one post that I wish I had the chops for. I’ll try to blog this without the usual inequities. In my celebration of last Thanksgiving it was my choice to stay alone this year and perhaps donate some time to help those less fotunate. As usual, I did no planning and only started offering my services this week. I have to say, it’s a lot more difficult to volunteer than I’d expect. I got one response last night (in the form of a “press release") that a new resty/cafe/bar in the lower east side was closing it’s doors and having a dinner for seniors and the needy. I showed up between the first and second seating and the atmosphere was not what I expected. I’ve volunteered before and there’s usually a frenzy of people who do this sort of thing once a year and are never fully equipped or prepared.

What I encountered was an extremely laid back set of people with a nice buffet set up in a sort of boozshwa with a 100% ABBA sountrack. The first thing people started doing (the volunteers that his) is start serving themselves up. I hadn’t eaten but I certainly wasn’t about to when there were needy people on there way. I was feeling more awkward than usual. So everyone’s eating ceptin me and some other girl and the perveyor of the place Svetlana (a 50+ year old Russian lady) suggests vodka shots for everyone (infused with lichee). This I was willing to accept as I figured the needy probably had already hit the sauce - very arogant, I know.

The needy came by while we were still sitting so we quickly got up and began our serving duties. For this sitting people came from a nearby shelter. It felt good to give these people some nice food and some attention. Felt good for me, I can only hope that they felt good too. Hungry/lonely people eating a nice turkey dinner (with killer stuffing by the way) to ABBA. I sat and talked to a few of the people and it convinced me further how everything is temporary. More about that stuff in another post - maybe.

The point here is that the hungry/lonely left, the ABBA go louder and it turned into and all out vodka party. Gay dude “dancing queen” with every chick in the place. Svetlana started getting super hammered and started dropping double entandres and innuendo. She was sexy and all but that’s it. She informed me that she lived in one of the most expensive hoods in BKLYN which is gated. Complements, I’m sure, to her x-husband, as was the place we were at. I took her up on an invite to her “studio” next door which was part of the build out of the joint. Still more innuendo. Upon our return to the bar, more vodka was flowing. Suddenly, gay man starts quizing me on who I want to go home with tonight. Svet, Viki, etc.

It was at this point that I realized that I’m sort of out of my elemene here in the city. I mean sure I want to get laid and, in fact, I probably stayed there after the recipients left because I wanted to see what my chances were. The truth of the matter is that I don’t value myself too much and so my being there was more to give me value than to prove my value. Like, if I cared about myself much, I’d be out with people I love and care about, right. (I’m talking about after the needy people left). So the fact that I’m hanging out means business. I I I I I I I I. Whatever. I’m sick of writing. In conclusion, this engagement was purely a marketing scheme (which I should have picked up with the “press” release). But the one good thing that came out of it is that the guy that set it up with svet is the organizer of this site stokedmentoring.org which seems like a good thing.

Well. I guess it’s been a year since she told me that she was done. The shit went down at Thanksgiving time last year. I’m expecting a better turkey day this year than last because I was a bloody wreck. I was pretty much on the couch for two days straight. I did get up on Thursday to volunteer some time and make me feel better (although it was time volunteered in the richest Brooklyn neighb). This year I’ve made the decision to spend it alone again. I have an urge to go spend it with my family and miss them to all hell cause I haven’t been there in 4 months. But I think the time will best be spent in solitude. Me and my thoughts. It can be a dangerous place because I’m still learning how to treat myself with a modicon of respect. It seems that my efforts to convince myself that things aren’t quite as shitty as I perceive have failed so far. Believe me, I understand that plenty of people wish they had my problems. Things could be a thousand times worse. But I just haven’t learned how to deal with what I have. My focus is on what I don’t. And because of my faulty self-image, the things I haven’t don’t motivate me. Time to find other things that I don’t have that do motivate me.

I love Brooklyn. I’m walking down the street contemplating what to do with my life. You know go out and shop around or stick with pasta and marinara. These are the things that occupy my mind these days. I’m not dodging insurgent fire or watching out for suicide bombers.

Anyway, I see this beautiful girl walking my way. My eyes were pretty fixed on her as she passed by (no return eye contact) and then I took the obligatory booty glance. As I turn back around I hear an older black dude in back of me,

OBD: “You think you could handle it”
I&I: “I’d like to think so but probably not” (not the truth)
OBD: “What’ve you got to lose? You got to use it while you can. You’re at a good age.”
I&I: “Use it while it still works, huh?”
OBD: “That’s right. Somewhere around 72 all you’ll be doing is saying good morning to your shoes. How old are you?”
I&I: “32 on Wednesday”
OBD: “I’m 82. Born in 1923. When I was your age I never had my pants on.”

The New York City Marathon happens to pass down the block from me in Brooklyn. So I figured I’d go out and cheer a few people on. The handicapped portion was pretty impressing. People “running” by with prosthetics, canes and of course the wheel chairs and chair bikes or whatever. So this girl from the ‘hood walks up to the corner I’m watching from intending to cross Lafayette Ave. As she hangs up the phone by saying “Oh it’s the marathon, I gotta go”, I hear her ask what are they walking or running for in the marathon. I try my best (which really isn’t that impressing) to ignore in hopes that I don’t have to respond to the question. But she catches my eye and asks “do you know what the marathon represents?”. I began this post with a cringe about how she didn’t know where it started. But as I grabbed the wiki link, I realized I had it wrong to. My version had the soldier running the wrong way.

Arrogant dick!

I’ve been instrospecting a bit lately. Well, more than usual anyway. It’s strange when you read, listen, live stuff that exposes you to yourself. There’s just been a few too many songs, books, web-sites and experiences this morning and over the past week or so for me to ignore.

I was told about this Czeck word Litost for which there is no direct translation into English. I don’t claim to understand it exactly but what I did take from it struck me. I heard of and excerpt from Milan Kundera’s novel ”The Book of Laughter and Forgetting” that described it as the sudden realization of the inherent imperfection of humanity by someone who walked through life in complete denial of that imperfection. A search yielded the following “Untranslatable directly into English, it simultaneously means: longing, sadness, irony and indifference.” This sort of explains the way I felt last year and still sometimes now. I wasn’t real receptive to my imperfections or the faults with my relationships, then I was forced to deal with a whole bunch of problems all at once. Hind sight is 20-20 but I would imagine that acknowleding and dealing with that stuff up front is something I could have benefitted from.

I’m reading a “The Unearable Lightness of Being”, also by Milan Kundera. The character Franz was with his wife for 23 years and upon deciding to reveal his 9-month afair is expecting her to brakedown. When she doesn’t he wonders why he waited so long. I never cheated or anything and I don’t know why I paid special attention to this, but I wanted to get it down so that I could think about it some more.

One last thing was a Post Secret entry where I can typically find a lot of suff I can relate to but this one clicked. I’m not nearly as desparate about life as this individual but I definitely noticed that sometimes I fill my time up with people/things/activities that don’t help me or help me avoid dealing with myself or my shit.