Saint James Infirmary

I've Got Me Some Of Those Saint James Infirmary Blues

Monday, November 29, 2004

(Now And Then There's) A Fool Such As I

Why do I every-so-often insist on figuratively shooting myself in the head? Am I a part-time masochist? Or am I just part-time stupid?

It seemed so relevant at the time. Damned theoretical questions bred out of introspection. "Would you ever think about getting back together?", I queried. And then tripping into a split-second blind rage in response to her answer that sounded like she assumed that I wanted to get back together now.

Maybe a miniscule part of me wanted to. The rational side of me knows that that would be unwise. An even more severe wound. And that I don't really want to. We are still in different spots right now. But its funny how love and emotions can make the rational side seem like the most ill-advised counselor on the planet.

After all this happened she questioned as to what prompted the question. At this point the realization came that I was tired and stressed and that I was not in the right state-of-mind to be discussing questions such as these. But still I insisted on continuing.

I explained that "I guess I've been in a funk relationship-wise lately. I've been helping other people with their relationship problems, but I wish I had my own to work on." After which I felt like the world's largest dunce for getting myself into this quagmire.

I began to apologize profusely for "unloading" on her.

She assured me that it was alright. I still felt like a dunce.

I'm in a spot where I want a relationship. Not because I feel like I need to be in one, but because I want to be involved with someone else. I want to share this great and exciting time of my life with somebody else. I want to love somebody again. I want somebody to love me. Its one of the best feelings in the world and I want it again. This love that I have to give is burning a hole through me like money in a pocket. Can anybody, including myself, find me somebody to love?

And why can I not craft prose as carefully as I just have when I ask theoretical questions?

Sunday, November 28, 2004

Bridge Over Troubled Water

When you're weary, feeling small
When tears are in your eyes,
I will dry them all.
I'm on your side.
When times get rough,
And friends just can't be found.