“Everybody wants to be somebody’s somethin’
Ain’t nobody wants to be blue
Ain’t nobody anywhere ever loved nothin’
Half as much as I love you
Somebody somewhere said “love is a prison”
But no one really wants to be free
I’d have to be crazy to ever think someone
Could love a nobody like me”
– Steve Earle –
I heard it said that true love is when you love someone despite of their faults. But brother that just sounds kind of snooty and condescending. I think maybe true love is when you love someone for their faults. For the flaws and defects. Because it’s that what makes them human, makes them unique and makes them yours. Ever stood close enough to a face to see the creases and pores, the texture of the skin. It’s in these tiny places that secrets are best told, when you reach up a hand and gently touch their cheek and draw them to you. And in that kiss, there’s a secret place.
Man there’s so many fools out there. And not the good kind. Yeah there’s a good kind of fool. One that will do whatever it takes to give love back. And one that knows that pushing the dark is the only way to find the light. But the bad kind is the ones out there with their plastic thin eyes, looking for the window dressing and tinkling lights. Who don’t see beauty, they only see shape. They look for the perfect number, the perfect ride, the perfect badge. Brother they spend so much time searching for the trophy. And goddamn if their might be a person attached.
It’s been my experience that there’s a lot of men out there who view women as nothing more than a life support system for tits and ass. Women are an unfortunate attachment to the orifices that best satisfy their frictional needs to reach orgasm. Harsh isn’t it. But it’s true. And believe ol’ hoss I have traveled in rarefied circles and it’s the same in factories as in circles of the “enlightened and educated”. They just call the game a different name.
And women, well if I had a dollar for every time I heard “I am not a material type” or “I just want a guy who cares and can make me laugh” I’d be a rich motherfucker. And if I had two dollars for every one of them girls that turned out to be full of shit. Well Bill Gates would have nothing on me…Except maybe a real fine haircut. Women seem to be caught up in the accoutrement, the accessory and pret-a-porte of the man they want around. They want to parade the man out and show him off and have him win a blue ribbon like some prize pony in a 4H show. And as for not being material…Uh huh…And I see women cruising the library and soup line all the time. It’s just the hottest meeting place ever.Women are petty and filled with a weird sense of entitlement. It’s kind of sad.
Now I know right about now you’re saying “Hey asshole that ain’t me! Or my friends, family and business associates” And to that I say BULLSHIT! It just is the truth, it is as it ever has been. Like the cavemen, the man needed to drag home the biggest bounty to mount the hottest cavewoman. I read Clan of the Cave Bear….I know man! I say this sort of as a joke but maybe it is the truth, maybe the wiring is done that way and it’s set in the circuits and veins. It’s how the animal is built.
But ain’t we suppose to be enlightened? Ain’t we suppose to be evolved?
I know there are exceptions. But really the fact is that these are few and far between. And they ain’t found hanging around coffee shops and martini bars trying to get the television poses just right and act like the perfect ensemble cast. The group that is just so refreshing and witty. Without having a clue you’re just sheep. Nah man, the real exceptions the true and fine hearts are lonely and lonesome. They spend too much time alone and too much time healing broken hearts because they’ve tried so god-damned hard to find that other one, the one that sees them, the one that values them and doesn’t have a grocery list or flag to wave. And they’re so sore that sometimes they are fooled by the kindness and soft words of wolves in sheep’s designer clothing. They believe in “Maybe this time…”
And they hurt for it, but they plug on. And in the rare case they find another of their kind. You don’t hear from them or even know them. You know why? Because they don’t need you, they don’t need me or anyone. They got each other and the world is just big enough for them. And at night when they curl up into each other and sleep, it’s the sleep of them that have traveled a long, long mile and finally found home.
Me? I don’t know what I am or where I fit. I do know that I have known girls who when they smiled at me I felt like I won something and I didn’t know what or how. And so whatever it was I did to make ’em smile like that I swore to remember because I always wanted to see it again. I’ve known women who are not typical anything. Different physically and different intellectually and emotionally. And I have loved them like mad. Like the last of the hardcore troubadours. But it has gone bad, either by my hand and my stupid lost little man trip. Or they turned out to be just like the rest. Just another off the rack and predictable life form. But mostly not. In fact I am fucking grateful. I have known and do know some incredible women. And I have had some incredible loves. They just seem to fall away. And it makes me sad. But I guess it’s just like any old cowboy…They sing a sad, sad song. And every rose…
Holy fuck! I am quoting Poison lyrics. It’s time to close this down. That’s a sign of brain damage you know. Quoting hair metal power-ballads. Maybe I am having an aneurysm?
Alright then, get my bandanna…I’m done.