Listening to Thirteen by Wilco


Been a bit wrapped up in nostalgia as of late. If you get a chance to find this song on Limewire I would download it.

Thirteen


Won't you let me walk you home from school
Won't you let me meet you at the pool
Maybe Friday I can
Get tickets for the dance
And I'll take you

Won't you tell your dad to get off my back
Tell him what we said about "Paint it, black"
Rock and roll is here to stay
Come inside where it's okay
And I'll shake you

Won't you tell me what you're thinking of
Would you be an outlaw for my love
If it's so well let me know
If it's no well, I can go
I won't make you

Been finding myself in a bit of an awkward position as of late. Been a little depressed with a downwardly spiraling libido. Some people have been telling me that this is natural. That all people go through it. I have never gone through it though. I have never paused in the middle of masturbation, looked at myself, and decided to stop. I've been telling myself I have a headache for a week. What does that mean?
Let's not think that much about it. I listened to some old songs from high school. Thought about an ex of mine. Felt terrible about where I was in life and about a potential inability to truly have an adult relationship. Received a couple text messages from another ex who is going through a rough patch with her relationships. That was bizarre. Received an e-mail from someone that I dated who lives abroad. That was perhaps the most difficult to try to come to terms with. I got cornered by a girl at work asking about my level of interest in her friend. And then there's Sunday...
I went out to dinner with my buddy Drew tonight. As is always the case, we talk about our love lives (or lack thereof) our work lives, and the general generational philosophies accompanying our middling twenty-something peers. Tonight we tried to figure out if marriage was just an outdated ritual that applied to people whose life spans were significantly shorter than ours. Drew's hypothesis was that in our lifetime we probably need three wives. the girlfriend we can live with now, the mother or our children, and our eventual companion when we get into old age. My best friend Steve was saying that in 15 short years our parents will be elderly people. They will have joined the rank and file of the aged. And we, in our humble little lives, will be entering into the most fruitful decade of our existence. A full ten years after our parents started their families. At least, in my case it was that way.
What is operating in our psyches that continually wants us to find new and exciting ways of sabotaging our life and love. Why are we continually preventing ourselves from going after what we want. I was reading the back of an Allure (I know, I know) and there was this interview with meg ryan talking about that shitty film she made with Jane Campion. She and Jane would talk about "Romantic Love" being the greatest lie of all. Pretty chilling stuff. Are we all afraid of finding something that could be incredibly good? And if we do, does everything else fall apart? I have two friends that are deeply in love, but miserable at their jobs. Do we all eventually end up staring across the empty expanse of a dinner table at someone we just can't relate to anymore? Are we all doomed to shut down whatever mechanism we have inside that allows us to love, to feel, to desire? Is there an oasis in the desert? Does love change? It has to, right?
recently I met this girl at work who is so crippled by insecurity ... I don't know. I related her story to Drew and he just said that in all likelihood she is someone that will never come out of that tunnel. I suppose I should feel lucky that I have enough confidence to operate and interact. And I do. But to look at someone and think that they may never actualize any potential because of their fears ... it's terrible. But i am sure that on some small level we all do it. We all have these little potholes we drive into. Maybe it's because we don't really think we deserve the happiness. Maybe it's because we are afraid of what we would do with ourselves if we were truly happy. Or maybe I am just a moron that thinks too much about shit that he has no right to even worry about.