Hapiness
This week's Poem:Happiness
So early it's still almost dark out.
I'm near the window with coffee,
and the usual early morning stuff
that passes for thought.
When I see the boy and his friend
walking up the road
to deliver the newspaper.
They wear caps and sweaters,
and one boy has a bag over his shoulder.
They are so happy
they aren't saying anything, these boys.
I think if they could, they would take
each other's arm.
It's early in the morning,
and they are doing this thing together.
They come on, slowly.
The sky is taking on light,
though the moon still hangs pale over the water.
Such beauty that for a minute
death and ambition, even love,
doesn't enter into this.
Happiness. It comes on
unexpectedly. And goes beyond, really,
any early morning talk about it.
(by, Raymond Clevie Carver found at Oldpoetry.com)
Editor's Notes:Yesterday was errand day. Well actually it was this kid Brian who needed to run errands. Brian is 23 and has currently moved to Minnesota to pursure his Masters in Linguistics without a car. I met Brian on Gay.com home of friendships, hook-ups, and friendships with benefits. Brian needed a friend, in my opinion, since I am a sucker for the lost soul; the ones who are not yet established in this cold city of Murderapolis.
My first visit with Brian proved to be a very successful friendship date. Friendship dates are like romance dates except there is no kiss, lingering hug, or sex therefore the nerves before the encounter are not as strong yet still exist. Walking to his house was an enlightenment. Brian lives near the Minneapolis Insitute of Art and attempting a brisk walk their had seemed irrational until that day. As I waited for a light on 24th Ave S. and 1st, I was distracted when I looked down the side street at the backside of a potentially good looking man. He was working on his lawn, in his 30's, knew how clothes are meant to flatter the body, with his little yippy dog by his side. As he turned a little I saw his strawberry blonde hair and handsome face just as his dog ran up to greet two frightened Somali women in traditonal dress one in blue one in mauve. "Hey what's that!," I said to the dog in a very excited voice pointing it back towards his owner. The Owner had now noticed what was going on and was moving towards me. He was definately cute, handsome and gay. He smiled at me and said thanks, our gazed lingered, and if life was a movie I would have introduced myself and our mutal struggles to find a soul mate would have finally ended. I said "No worries," and smiled my I-know-you're-gay-and-I-know-you-know-I-am-gay-and-you-think-I-am-cute-and-I-think-you-are-cute smile and walked on. That was a good moment. I told everyone the next day, "It only takes me 30 min to walk to the Minneapolis Institute of Art!" What a revalation. All those days sititting in my room staring at my ceiling when I could been staring at a Monet or Rembrant and analzing their meaning through their brush strokes and my emotional state. I was energized and resfreshed when I reached Brian's rental home and the date was successful. The friendship had begun to thrive when I realized he did not only know about the cartoon Invader Zim, but he could quote it and laugh while doing so which is a rare quality to find in a man.
So, two weeks later I drove him on errands and just enjoyed the chill factor of tagging along. At Circuit City I watched Mulon Rouge on the $2,999 awesome Tosabi DVR, HD mini-widescreen, laptop and talked to a captive audience of one while I waited for Brian to mull over what computer to buy. The Tosabi sales man had just bought a condo in the International Market Square, has two rental units, recently moved in with his parents, and gets no discount through Tosabi. He was so friendly, and such a great conversationlist, I was tempted to invite him along.
Brian and I ate brunch at the Edina Cafe, after venturing into some way over priced store on 50th and France, and sat at the counter. I didn't say hi to Jon Weaver from HGA because I was too entertained by the 50 something straight couple next to us and the wait staff ringing up orders right in front of us. "I hate cantalope, and I hate it even more because no matter what other fruit you put it with everything else tastes like it, " Brian whispered to me. "Thank-you!," exclaimed the random ponytailed waitress with a empathic, exasperated hand gesture. Later the 50 something straight couple's food was being passed over my hands. I automatically slid the man's plate of bacon over to him by actually touching, not the edge of the plate, but the inside of the plate like he was family. "I'm sorry. I guess I just can't help myself." "That's alright," he said, then continued, "So does that make you a caregiver or a caretaker?" We spent the next few minutes coming up with a definition. A caregiver was someone who helped out from time to time and a caretaker took care of others 24/7 and that was the basis of their happiness. I choose caregiver.
On the west side of Lake of the Isles is a Native American book store and that was our last stop. I read poetry while Brian chatted with the staff, and I came across 'Happiness'. I read it over and over again seeing some new detail in it's simple delievery and felt connected to the world. I was not the only one who had moments like the one described. I never understood that you could be connected with someone without even saying a word until a friend, who I was having Perkin's with in high school, said, "You know when you are with good friends you don't always have to be talking." I took it as an insult of my chartector at that time, but have since adopted her truth. Too bad we are no longer friends.
Driving back to Brian's house, I took five minutes to turn up the "Wild Horses," rolled down my squeaky window, leaned back in my seat, and stuck my arm out the window trying to catch the rush of air through my fingertips. I took in the scene of the Lake and noticed Brian doing the same. I was "in the moment", and the absense of speech elisited the rare feeling of being content with my life.
So, I thought I would kind of do some of the same things at Literally Speaking and maybe it will keep me reading books. I also will just keep the format somewhat the same. :) Oh, and if anyone knows that this is now illegal what I am doing please let me know.
Excerpt:You shall therefore wit, that this gentleman above named the spurts that he was idle (which was the longer part of the year), did apply himself wholly to the reading of books of knighthood, and that with such gusts and delights, as he almost wholly neglected the excersie of hunting; yea, and the very administration of his household affairs. And his curiosity and folly came to that pass, that he made away many acres of arable land to buy him books of that kind, and therefore he brought to his house as many as ever he could get of that subject. And among them all, none pleased him better than those which famous Felician of Silva composed. For the smoothness of his prose, with now and then some intricate sentence meddled, seemed to him peerless; and principally when he did read the courtings, or letters of challenge, that knights sent to ladies, or on to another; where, in many places, he found written: 'The reason of the unreasonableness which against my reason is wrought, doth so weaken my reason, as with all reason I do justly complain on your beauty.' And also when he read: 'The high heavens, which with your divinity do fortify you divinely with the stars, and make you deserveress of the deserts which your greatness deserves, ' etc. With these and other such passages the poor gentleman grew distracted, and was breaking his brains day and night, to understand and unbowel their sense, an endless labour; for even Aristotle himself would not understand them, though he were again resuscitated only for that purpose.
(From: 'The Delightful History of the Most Ingenious Knight Don Quixote of the Mancha'
written by, Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra translated by, Thomas Shelton.)
Poem:Boy
I run into my old boyfriend's new boyfriend on Boylston Street and, as he talks, I fish around in my handbag, my pockets, for something sharp so I can stab him. He prattles insensitive circles: how my old boyfriend is impossible, but I already know that. I want to call him queer boy, a faggot: he keeps calling me "hun," twirling the fringe on my scarf. We have nothing in common until his goodbye: pink gums show between his teeth and upper lip. He has my goofy kind of smile, the kind my old boyfriend always made fun of. Boy, is this guy in for trouble.
(Found at
http://capa.conncoll.edu/duhamel.smile.html#38 written by, Denise Duhamel)
Editor's Notes:It's been a very long time since I have written a story about what has happened in the past week for me, and so I will assume that I will be a bit rusty. And like I said, things aren't as light hearted as they used to be, but I think I shall use this as a way to recount something amusing during the week. The first little story I would like to share involves my mom. Mom and Dad stories for me are usually a great source of amusement to myself and my friends. I love them and they make me shake my head. Recently I just came out to my mom. I assume people know what the term coming out means, yet I want to make sure. Let's see if I can find a definition of the term, ah yes this sums it up well. "Although the term "Coming Out" is generally used in the gay community to mean announcing your sexuality to your family and friends, in a broader sense it is a process whereby you say who you are and what you believe. All of us have had trouble finding the courage to express our true thoughts when those around us think differently." (found at http://www.fculittle.org/sermons/Coming_Out.htm) I grew up with a Pentecostal tradtion as a backbone of Christianity and a Mother who blindly followed the teachings of this tradtion and a father that should know better since he has been an amazing student of religion since he became born again in his twenties. So, even though my parents taught me compassion and open-mindedness it was, and still is, within the boundaries of bringing someone to salvation. My mom used to say things like, "I don't want you hanging around 'those' people they may rub off on you, " and " If you ever told me certain things (translation: that you are gay) it would be the last nail in the coffin on my life." So it was no surprise, though amusing in a sad kind of way, the conversation we had while walking to the dock at Lake Calhoun from Chino Latino where my mom had just spent an evening with her old friend from Soul's Harbor. These being the friends she would not say anything to, "so they will just look at you and not think about it." So many details I could be adding here...so many and really the gist of it is I told my mom, "So I have a new roommate Ben." "Really?" "Yea, he was an old roommate of a friend of mine...I really god lucky. And you'll be glad to know he is straight," said with an amused smile. "Well praise the Lord. At least some prayers are answered, " said with complete sincerity. Sad yet amusing.
The History of Literally Speaking and the New Begining
Well, as some of you know I used to do something called Literally Speaking. I like to call it one of the original blogs...before blogs began. For those who don't know I used to send out a weekly newsletter of sorts that included lyrics from a song or two, a poem, and an excerpt from short a book. The idea was that I would keep up culturally by doing this because I would listen to new music, read new poems, and keep myself reading something in general. At the end I would include what I called an Editor's Note which is what blogging is today. Actually, it started off just as random storytelling that had nothing to do with my real life (and that's when Literally Speaking was called Linguistically Speaking...I really don't know when the named switched over) and then it turned into a recap of something that happened earlier in the week. As I have said many time, my storytelling is much better when, a) the event just happened and all my emotion is still in the telling, and b) when I write it down. What I ended up finding out was that no one was reading the Lyrics, Poems, or Excerpts and at the time that pissed me off because I spent some good time on such things, and also I learned that a lot of people just read to edit my Editor's Notes to see how many gramattical errors I had made for that week. So if you know me it's not a surprise that I would get pissed send out an e-mail saying I am not doing it anymore and no one really cared and blah blah blah, but then a select amount wrote back saying just how much they enjoyed it and my ego was restored and it went on. This has actually happened a couple of times. Someone out there I hope still has all my stories....it's like my journal from my college years and many of the memories I have is because I wrote it down. Anyway, so here is the offical new Literally Speaking and it even has a new name "Jho's Place" and you gotta love that. I am sure the same people will be finding all my flaws in writing and I know they will enjoy that and I know they will enjoy whatever stories I have to share too. My life has had darker turns since I was in college and things seem a bit more complicated and that may mean for subjects that are not as lighthearted as then, but I also still have that amazement about little things and random thoughts that sometimes make me half smile to myself. So, welcome and enjoy my "stream of conciousness " style of writing.
-Jho
