Hanging Decorations
My blog’s been dark and bleak lately. I’m totally broody. You might even call me shifty. Like, if you ran a small convenience store and I perused the magazines, you’d keep your eye on me. You’d watch me close. But now I’m going to spiff the blog up with some party decorations.
Imagine some streamers hanging from my blog. There. Better? It IS better. Yellow, red and green streamers. They really liven the place up.
Today gives me pause from my January death stewing to remember the other side of death. Not life. Further back. Before you were born. Remember? Of course you don’t. That’s why it’s so weird and cool. Remember? When we couldn’t remember? When we were merely snowflakes falling through clouds upon the heads of absentminded ghosts. No stress or bills or places to be. There was no such thing as water.
But then, 38 years ago, life smashed me in the head like a cartoon anvil. There’s still, to this very day, a bunch of whistling blue birds and yellow stars circling my head. Seriously. If you met me, you’d see them. But only if you look close and you’re not an accountant.
Life happened in contrast to not being anything and sky and grass and sweet things on my tongue. I hope I never write myself in a corner. There’s too much to say. There’s too much to say.
My kids do funny things. I like drugs and running. Life is hilarious. It’s a nightmare. An old friend of mine wrote “Fixed views are lusty eyed virgins.” What? I want to find a way to convincingly love it all. And not the easy way, by slamming my eyes shut and staying positive. I don’t want a unified metaphor that explains everything to me. I don’t want a promise for something better later. A prize when you die? What about this? I’ll take meaningless this.
Have you seen a plum today? Go find a plum. It’s enough to blow your fucking mind.
I want the worst of it all so I can love it. Don’t put my dead friend in heaven (he’d have a fit). Leave him in that pool of blood. Imagine all the worst things. Can you love it? That, it seems to me, is the question. Because it’s easy, child’s play, to love the story where everything happens for its own cute little reason and all the good people win in the end.
But what if it’s all for nothing? What if there’s nothing beyond the blood? What kind of bold love would look that in the eye and kiss it on the mouth? It would have to be brash and arrogant. A monstrous love. Did you find that plum? What do you think of my party decorations?
Two days ago was the anniversary of his death. Today’s my birthday. What did he mean? Those lusty eyed virgins? Well it’s simple, silly. They’re going to get fucked.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Reader Comments (33)
no plums, but i have an apricot & it's pretty rad. fuzzy skin & all. too bad i can't eat it since i'm allergic to it. or maybe i should to make things interesting. i could give the 3 year old 2 child-sized epipens & instruct him to pound them into my leg if need be.
nah. i'll just look at it & then eat a piece of cake. it's your birthday cake, yea. i made it for you.
happy birthday.
i like the streamers, but would it kill you to get some fucking balloons? with helium.
I love stories and people who are authentic...fuck the makeup and pretty words. I'm allergic to plums (that makes me weird, I know) but I'll eat an orange and toast to you. Happy Birthday weirdo...the internet is more interesting when you are around.
I ate raspberries for breakfast today. Raspberries. RRRRRRRaaaaaaaazzzzzberries. When you're done ogling that plum go check out some raspberries. (So happy I'm not the only one for whom fruit is a MIND BLOWING experience. Kiwi! Pomegranate!)
Love the party decorations. I brought you some noisemakers. No kazoos, though. Fuck kazoos. Hope your birthday and all its accoutrements are exactly to your liking.
Little Jack Horner...
How unusual is life? The last couple days I've been thinking of my friend who lived a life of hell - her Gram was her safe place - abused in many ways - ran away to Calgary at 15 (likely became a hooker) but then miraculously cleaned herself up, was driving to see me a year and some later - the car crashed horribly (tie rod broke) and she was dead. 35 years ago.
She never said anything poignant. But her life was.
You throw a bitchin' party Mr. BHJ, though I am fairly certain someone spiked the plums. Plums, plum wine, sake, for goodness sake. You inspire me with your cobwebs and sunlight.
Happy Birthday, to the best fucking blogger on the internet. Broody or not. Your party decorations are disturbingly awesome. I love plums.
I feel like I'm often dismissed because of my faith.
Life is just as messy, just as confusing, just as full of questions over here. The more I find out, the more questions explode from the ashes of the ones that have been seared by answers or by my fury at the lack thereof. When I think earnestly about it, though, I don't really mind the mess. Give me something to pound against so that I know I'm alive, you know? Join me in the pounding so I know that you are too, yeah? Listen to that, our pounding makes itself into music. Music drives my heart. My heart, as it so happens, is where my faith resides.
One thing you said is clanging around my insides: Imagine all the worst things. Can you love it? It startles me, because that's exactly what Christ would say. To him I say, "I'm really fucking trying." To you I say, "I'm really fucking trying."
Happy birthday, Jon. I'm blessed to call you and Jenna friends (even if our friendship 'just' emanates from a little glowy box).
Happy Birthday. I love you.
Happiest of birthdays to my youngest. I will always remain in awe of you... and ...also, your ability to decorate.
Happy Birthday, Jon.
Happy Birthday! You have, hands down, one of the best blogs I've read. I rarely comment because I'm usually too blown away and intimated. :)
Sadly, produce is limited in Canada this time of year, I don't think I have access to plums.
This past December, on my own birthday, I got stuck at an intersection, waiting on guess what? A funeral procession....a BIG one, like for a cop or something, because it went on and on and on and on.....
I thought,"Goodbye Self!! Long live my Self!!" because everything here's a reflection of everything else...
I hope you're feeling some pleasure and ease in your incarnation this time around, man! Have a great night!
Your blog may be dark and bleak lately, but dark and bleak seems to encompass the whole world. Five days ago death smashed me in the head. I'm still seeing those stupid cartoon birds and not comprehending too much.
We struggle not to appropriate things, but it's unavoidable - your last post saw me through some pretty bleak hours.
Happy birthday, dude.
All I got is kiwi. It's fuzzy. Like you.
Have a day. K
I loved this post.
Happy Birthday.
I don't believe in heaven in the way some people do, but I also don't believe in the pool of blood. I do believe, religiously, in the worthiness of anvils.
Happy birthday, Jon. I'm happy to know you, even though 'always home and uncool' knows how fuzzy you apparently are. I mean.... gosh. Okay. Neat.
you inpire me, bhj. i read your words and i want to, like... i want to dig. and expose. and understand.
you inspire me to the point of writing out this whole damn comment on
my ridiculous, useless touch screen.
I don't understand it all either. Life sucks. People suck. News is all negative and doomsdayish. Yet, we're all supposed to be pleasant and mind our manners 'cause someday we'll get somewhere wonderful. I really hope and pray they're right...
"Happy" Birthday.
Happy Bday to you! I don't get the whole life/death thing either, and not knowing drives me crazy on the best of days. So, I just try to live every moment, every day, to the best of my ability, and take nothing and no one for granted.
Wishing you a happy, if slightly belated, birthday. You are valued. Even and especially the dark and bleak of you.
Happy Birthday, BHJ. I truly enjoy your writing, the way it immerses me, and the audacity you have to speak what I think and don't have the guts to say. Don't visit my blog. It's fucking boring lately. That is, when I even bother to write there. *sigh*
now yo're one year worse and more stupid.
HAPPY BUDDY DUDE!
Happy Belated birthday, BHJ.
Your decorations are like faux spiderwebs on Halloween. Creepy. But I still come back to read.
I have jars and jars of canned plums on my kitchen counter. They are delicious little time capsules of summer.
Oh, I had a perfect perfect nectarine. I live in Ireland, so thatdoesn't happen often.
Happy Birthday, BHJ, glad you're here.
You're a hell of a writer. You're also kind of an asshole sometimes. Hemingway was kind of an asshole sometimes. Do any of your cats have six toes?
How many times do we bite in only to find it sucks...but we still keep going back even if we are getting fucked over and over because there was that one time that it was the sweetest thing on the face of the earth.
you're kind of a genius.
happy birthday.
Dude. Every time I visit your blog, I feel a little bit smarter, yet a tad stupider when I leave. Is good. No?
I just knew you were pushing 40. See? You just told us. Hope it was a great day and that I see you soon.
This is special. The attitude, the friendship and you. Fuck me dead can you write.