If you're thinking about them every night; if you feel like you can't live without them; if you're sure this person is your soul mate; if they "complete" you; if you connect; if you scream for the first time ever during your orgasm; if you know your parents are so very very wrong; if you're certain your friends just need to get to know them to see the real them; if you sit by the phone, carry your phone everywhere you go, wait impatiently, agonizingly, anxiously for their call, just to hear their voice. . . .
You're NOT, repeat, NOT in love. You're infatuated. Infatuation can lead to love, but it should not be confused with it. You cannot find love in an afternoon. You cannot love someone because they've got a gorgeous cock, smile, pair of tits, car, account balance, ambition, etc. Love is about trust. Love is about knowing someone. Love takes years, not seconds, not minutes . . . years. There are people who have been married for 1, 5, 10, 20 years and counting who are not in love. Love is like looking for your lost Ipod: you know you had it; you don't know how you lost it; the harder you look for it, the more flustered you become; the moment you're not looking for it, you spot it out of the corner of your eye.
You know you're in love when you find yourself miraculously putting their needs ahead of your own, and you're not quite sure when you made the decision to do so.
If you can taste the oak, the currant and the soil in the latest Chateau Lafite Rothschild, bully for you! If you refuse to drink anything but imported beer, ale, lager, dark, black & tan, brown, etc. . . . Wow, color us impressed! Or just color us shitfaced, because we don't give a damn.
We (i.e. you, me and everyone on the planet) drink booze to get drunk, to get tipsy, to have our inhibitions ripped from the anal-retentive grip of our cramping fists. It gets us strange bedfellows, strange bargains, strange children, strange visions, but no matter how expensive, how pompous, how snooty, how knowledgeable you are, you're still getting sauced, shit-faced, three sheets to the wind like the rest of us.
And as a side note: I personally think spitting out the most gorgeous velvety tasting wine into a bucket is a travesty. If I can't make a spectacle of myself at a wine tasting, underwear on head, wrists in cuffs, shrieking lyrical poetry that would make the members of the Doors blush, including the Lizard King himself, then it's not worth the price of admission.
Your children have several purposes. Let's name them: 1. To fuck things up. 2. To grow up 3. To drive you fucking nuts 4. To drive everyone else fucking nuts 5. To play and make you smile 6. To teach you what you forgot you learned 7. To make you toss and turn and awaken at three in the A.M. because you hear them hot-wiring the truck to go buy cases of toilet paper at the all night Walmart, possibly getting drunk and or stoned on the way, pausing only long enough to impregnate or be impregnated.
You can't stop it. You can't prevent it. No matter how skilled you are.
You can love them and lead by example, which is easier said then done, and that's it.
Remember: If you fuck them up, you're fucking us up as well.
Music, rock, pop, country, the blues, jazz, classical, world, zydeco, tejano, etc. is not about buying albums, concert tickets, Tee shirts, downloads, or anything else. It's about feeling something indescribable; it's about connecting with a part of yourself that even the great Bard couldn't describe. It's masturbation for the soul, and every now and then, it gets you laid.
Love'em if you got'em.
You have a hand. You have genitalia. Any God who is so wicked, so tempting, so malicious as to give you a match and a can of gasoline and tell you NOT to set things on fire is not a God worth following. Stone me if you must, but masturbation is the best tool (heh, heh, I said "tool") for discovering your own sexuality. You MUST know yourself before anyone else can. You MUST love yourself before anyone else can. It does not take the place of the human heart or of human to human interaction, but it is like batting practice. Learn what you need to learn before the big game or it'll be a washout.
(to be continued)
Aaron Diaz Hoal