Some songs come to mind when walking in the rain easier than others. You usually catch yourself humming or singing them under your voice not realizing what you are doing until some outside attention is placed on them. They flow just under the radar as small messages from your subconscious in hopes of including you in the thoughts you either avoid or as not too well aware of. For me at this moment it was Chris Isaak's Somebody's crying. The song has a good amount of history with me, but the lyrics that finally woke me up were..
But if you cry at night the way I do I'll know that somebody's lying.
It's odd how certain songs carry us into thoughts past and give us a deeper insight to a flashing moment that remained in our minds. These moments usually are replayed in my mind in order to understand human interaction, body language and the art of saying what is not said while making what is being intended. As Sun Tzu declared over the use of spys, that the real battles were determined on paper with ideas before the first sword was drawn. Understanding what lies in the eyes of another in many cases allows us to get that edge that allows us to change a moment, win a conflict or to remain hidden a while longer. Deception, innuendo, and masquerade all allow us to move pieces on the board always searching for the advantage.
Forgive me if I seem to dig deeper into what may seem. I only get like this when I'm dealing with the matters of the heart or in this case the love. I seem to agree with Shakespear's Henry V when matters of love come up an tactical and analytical mind rises up rather than an open and honest heart. Or to quote King Henry directly,
yet my blood begins to
flatter me that thou dost, notwithstanding the poor
and untempering effect of my visage. Now, beshrew
my father's ambition! he was thinking of civil wars
when he got me: therefore was I created with a
stubborn outside, with an aspect of iron, that, when
I come to woo ladies, I fright them.
flatter me that thou dost, notwithstanding the poor
and untempering effect of my visage. Now, beshrew
my father's ambition! he was thinking of civil wars
when he got me: therefore was I created with a
stubborn outside, with an aspect of iron, that, when
I come to woo ladies, I fright them.
And yet, I can say that my aspect of Iron was earned not though birth, but the need for a thicker skin and the ability to be treacherous in the absence of the ability of lying. And yet surrounded with the plight of the heart of those around me I can't help to feel a bit relieved to be in a protected position. It's not that I don't have an admiration for the feeling or that I would not mind having someone near me to share my life. And yet, I seen it in so many people. People who you would depend on a correct answer that would matter in a pinch with some stability and truth become the worst of their nature rather than the best. Women who I'd be honored to hold palaver with reduced to repetitive sniveling girls with no regards to the moment intrigued in only their aspect of importance ignoring all. Men who would face difficulty in wide strides without an utterance of wavering doubt now weak kneed and unworthy of being called men by the ones who left their deep tracks before us.
There has to be something in this chemically or genetically that has such a hold on us all. I understand that evolution is dictated not by the ability to be strong, swift or cunning, but by the libido of the female. Who they choose to mate increases our path into existence and yet, there is some moments that have me wonder why. Men can not remain unmoved at the feet of a crying woman unless he knows that tears may be used for an angle. Men are attracted to the physical shape of a woman, specifically the thighs and breasts not just because they are very enjoyable places to wander with a lingering touch, but because evolution drives us to choose a mate with the best breeding stock to perpetrate the species. Pheromones, body language, posturing and acts of pea cocking all move us into survival.
And yet, we are so stupid when it comes to simple human interaction. Mayhaps, love is an evolutionary derivative that we developed in response to greater mind potential and upright posture. Or even it's a mistake we have committed so long that we are able advance with even though committing the act cause us difficulty. I know reading goes against how our minds operate and yet, Barbra Bush pushed on with her cause. And yet, days ago I see boys holding handful of red balloons and flower and other costly tokens of courting to giggling girls who actions betray their true age. Even those who make much ado about the nothingness of a capitalistic and empty ceremony are secretly looking from the other side with a doubt of apprehension to their resolve if cookies were left on their door knob or a note left under the door. We are shallow as this and I have to lump myself into the group on the grounds of potential if not action.
I've take a few paths down life and I've always been allowed to question what I see if not to discredit what is but to understand what it isn't. I know that I've been in those shoes in many forms and have committed metal atrocities worse than what I bring complaint on, so if it's anyone who can say that we act irrational it would have to be me. I've been characterized as romantic in nature and purpose. Someone who would chase the girl down and plunge in for that kiss. Someone who carries the scars of not of error, but of blind devotion on my person. Someone who has done what Leonardo have committed outside of dying for a woman in which would be the prize of all and the woman in question would win at the game of love as a matador would take his two ears and a tail.
If there is anyone who has had more regrets, heart breaks, and "what the fuck am I doing" moments, it would have to be me. I'm shocked that my blood work is as clean as it is and that I'm able to give blood at all. So to declare that if asked on my feelings of love in my personal view and not in the way the world works or the greater picture of how things should be, I have to say that falling in love is the emotional equivalent of stepping in shit.
No seriously. Take a moment. Think about it. You are not initially happy, but surprised, perhaps exasperated at the realization. You discover that your grasp on logic and being has become skewed and in many ways your analytical train of thought has gathered a good amount of error that makes you doubt everything. People around you become baffled and question your behavior and resolve as they learn very quickly that they have to now deal with the loss of a reasonable human being (Some of you are not and I'm not going to call out names least you think that this is about you exclusively, you vain dolt. Snap out of it there is a world outside of you) and now deal with someone who now walk in an intoxicated state that can only lead to trouble. If I moved about drunk as some would move about in love I'd would have less teeth in my head and morn the loss of intellect due to the death of active brain matter from blunt force trauma.
It's like being the designated drive in a car full of happy drunks. You don't get the funny and they're just annoying the shit out of you.
