Timeless

The exquisite pains and beauties of being alive churn inside me tonight. My eyes are hurting, and whole body is aching from the constant abuse I subject it to -- or maybe it was those two strenuous basketball games against the kids on Sunday. My 12-year-old can beat me hands-down at any version of 1:1 basketball I care to try. Who ever heard of a kid who can nail 50% of his shots beyond the 3-point line, which in our yard, means shooting from way back where the old 1880's privy used to reside.

(That patch of ground remains mysteriously devoid of clover or sour grass this winter, whilst the rest of the yard blooms like a tropical rainforest. I suspect the ghosts we unearthed to gather those old bottles unleashed some unhappy spirits, or at least, their excretions. "Don't go messin' with my shit," they probably are saying.)

Nonetheless, time waits for none of us, not even our ghosts. Thus, a few tiny, fearless clovers are seeding the refilled excavation square, and I bet by next winter (our greenest season here in the desert that is San Francisco), all traces of our intrusion into the history of this place will be invisible to the naked eye.

I'm happy to note that traffic to this pathetic little blog is up today, no doubt in response to my heart-felt post in homage to oral sex. While I'm on the subject, let me say I am a big fan of every type of pleasure people can give each other, and I do not quite understand why many pleasures are characterized as "fetishes."

Those Puritans back in the day really f'd this culture up. It is striking to be in Japan or China, or to date people from those cultures, and to see how unrepressed about sex they are. For that matter, even the British are less repressed than Americans, in my experience.

***

I hate it when that happens. I get distracted. I have other things to say tonight. First, life is short, and time races on. Already, do you realize, more than 10% of 2007 is over! And, what, exactly, have we accomplished? I was working by request earlier today on an acquaintance's tribute to her brother, who died prematurely and suddenly, recently.

Her advice in her tribute to anyone listening is to never miss an opportunity to tell those closest to you what they mean to you. This may sound like a cultural cliché, but it is sound advice. No matter how strained your relations may be with your close people, do not remain silent for long.

Otherwise, the echoes of your own lonely voice, mouthing phrases never uttered "in the living years" will continue to wash over you like soft, unforgiving waves on the edge of an ocean that never ceases to attack the sand you stand on.

***

I heard from my cousin Dan tonight, one of Gordon's big brothers, in the form of a comment on my post titled "Only the Lonely." Dan and I were the same age, so in our growing up years, we shared the most among all the Anderson cousins. I have always admired him greatly, even though we chose separate paths in life. My respect for him and his choices remains intact. He's a strong, dependable, decent man whose values, at the end of the day, remain consistent with my own, though we might quibble a bit over the details. :-)

***

So, time waits on no man and no woman. You know what I enjoy? Watching a lovely woman enjoy her food. Eating is so incredibly sensuous, and due to the irrational pressure on women to be as slender as an exclamation mark, I notice how much pressure my female friends feel under re: food.

Thus, whenever I enjoy the company of someone who savors, say, her Brussels sprouts or her Beijing Duck, my heart feels happy. I truly enjoy the way my own kids, all of whom sport hearty appetites, react when I order Indian food from Spicy Bite or Chinese food from Yum Yum, or Mexican food from El Matate.

Tonight, worrying about the large question of Time, I have lost sight of the small question of time, which includes an obligation to make myself dinner. Hmmm, where shall we begin?

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