08 July 2016

Who was I Dancing With and Why Can't I Go Back in Time?

The same old crowd
Was like a cold dark cloud
That we could never rise above
But here in my heart
I give you the best of my love
Oh, sweet darlin'
You get the best of my love
- From The Best of My Love by The Eagles

I’m listening to The Eagles song, Best of My Love. Powerful memory -- more of visceral feeling -- of dancing to it with young woman at a party while in college. Saturday night. A slow song, we were clinging to one another, maybe a little drunk. I don’t remember who it was, or what she looked like. Long hair though and she was about my height. She smelled sweet but not too. A nice soap and shampoo rather than perfume. Her hair against my cheek tingled.  I liked her a lot. At least that night, at least during that song. What else might have happened between us that night or after I don’t know. I know that I was experiencing perfect happiness. Young, handsome, healthy, a bright future a pretty woman in my arms, an alcohol buzz.

That moment, the time of my life is gone. Forever. Listening to the song brought a whiff of time back but nothing I can hold on to. I’m left staring at a computer screen typing words about it rather than living it. I can’t go back and see who that woman was. I can’t go back and have that dance again. I can’t go back and change anything. It’s all happened. I ache for it. The passage of time is a harsh demon, slapping us with taunts about what we did wrong and about joys we’ll never feel again. We are left in now. This permanent place we are stuck in. There is no escaping it, there’s no alternative.

Goddamn it life hurts like hell sometimes. The bittersweet is almost the worst of it all. No wonder I have panic and depression. So many aches through the course of life, so much gone forever. I’ve got more out of life than maybe I deserve and it's not nearly enough. I want a time machine. I want to be able to replay parts of the past. I want…

So here I sit relentlessly sorry for myself and ungrateful and obtuse and disingenuous and afraid. Afraid to move forward. Looking back, looking in the mirror but lacking vision, soul, a cure for my angst. Reveling in melancholia and surprised when I’m blue but at the same time feeling that I earned it. Yeah I earned the miseries through years of dastardly mistakes and bad behavior and belligerence and egocentricity and malice afore and after thought and abuse of whatever the hell I could get my hands on. Now. Now clean. The family man. The good citizen. The beloved teacher, co-worker. The grumpy neighbor and gym member. The hassled commuter. The runner. The blogger. The instagrammer. The movie watcher. The man and the mission and the mania and the moment and the morbid and the morose and the masterful melancholic moper. I come at you with blue eyes and blonde hair and a blood stream teeming with medications. Yes I’m the medicated riding the bullet train to nowhere. Man. Where to go? Travel. See other places, other people. Think other thoughts. Dance alone. Drink tea. Stream my consciousness right around the globe and up and over and under the madness of this old world. Why stop while I’m in perpetual heat? Why not got on? Still the dreamer the believer in glories to come. Lord what a mess. What a manic mass of myself. Where?


Where? Seriously, I mean where is that dance? Where is that young chick? What happened to that five minutes? Where? And why the fuck do I have so many questions that go forever unanswered? Can’t someone please tell me where that time went? Did it just vanish into the ether? Is it still out there somewhere? Can I find it? Where do I look? Do I go into a trance? Will meditation suffice? Peyote? Zero gravity? Space travel? Do I look for it in dreams? Can I at least get a map? That would be a start.

Time. Is it just a human concept? Are today and all the yesterdays and maybe even all the tomorrows snaking around each other? Can I jump from one to the next? There must be a way. Is it dangerous? What the hell is deja vu all about, anyway? And what about the supernatural? Is there really anything to any of it? Ghosts for example. Or angels. I really like the idea of angels, especially of the guardian variety. Maybe I’ve been surrounded by angels all my life, watching, envious of the mortal’s life on Earth. Sometimes life doesn’t seem to be all it’s cracked up to be. But I guess it beats the alternative all to hell. So to speak.

Okay so maybe angels, maybe ghosts, I don’t know. What I really want to learn about is time travel. I’d be more than happy to travel as a spectator. I want to see that dance. See that woman’s face. I’d like to watch the whole party unless it was one of those in which I got stinko and made an ass of myself. I get the feeling that that wasn’t one of those nights. Beside the point. Why not time travel? Or just a TV into our past? Sit back and watch the show we created. Otherwise what was it all for if we can't get a replay?

Maybe if there’s something after death it will include a tour of one’s life. Not the flashing before eyes deal but a real good look. I’ve often thought we get to live it over again. Over and over. And we get to do different things like as we repeat our lives we get better at it. If that’s the case then this must be one of my first go-rounds because I’ve done some serious fucking up. Then again with how good it’s turned out in so many ways maybe I’m more toward the middle of my chances. If this is really the case I wonder how many times we do it? If I’ve got a lot more shots at this one I could really make something of it. I’ve had a lot going for me. Sure some obstacles but I’ve done pretty well with those, all considered.

Who the hell was that dance partner? It’s turned into a real poser.

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