(305) “Lais of Corinth, famous for pre-eminence in beauty, condescended only to the embraces of kings and princes: yet she desired to share the couch of the philosopher Demosthenes, that by undoing the marvel of his well-known chastity she might by her mere beauty appear to have moved stones, as Amphion did with his harp. He was attracted by her flattery and she wooed him delightfully. And when he was softening to desire of union, Lais demanded of him a hundred talents for her favors. He, looking up to heaven, said: ‘I do not pay so high a privilege of repenting.’ Friend, may you too lift your thoughts to heaven and escape that step which has to be expiated by repentance.”
Once my brothers and I were on our Go-peds, which are magnificently engineered gas powered scooters that go up to 30mph, and as we traversed the neighborhood streets and culva-saks like a band of marauders out for booty and came over byways, speeding like demons, I came to the top of a hill that led home. Feeling absurdly brave, I gave a hardy press on the throttle and, in a flash, lost control at top speed. The Go-ped spun out and I flew fifteen feet through the air and bounced like a recess ball on the hard, cold pavement. I lost the skin off my knee and it was no small scuff. The bloody flesh looked like a disordered, melting cheese pizza. All I could do was weep and moan as I watched my bright red Go-ped crash into the bushes, making horrendous sounds like the fiery head of medusa or a kamikaze lawnmower (yes, they are real). From all my proud boasting, like some sick dance of dalliance, I ended up with a crushing, demoralizing defeat in the end.
An X-Girlfriend of mine was a real genius. I would say she was a diviner. I used to call upon her like the songbird with flushed red cheeks and a heart thumping with love and outpouring misery at feeling so aloof without her. And my hollow “I love you’s”, which I thought were so lively yet not backed by any validity, were given the majestic rebuttal: “You don’t love me but the idea of me.” But no, my steel encased mind wouldn’t let the fizzy fireworks settle. I came back with a thousand oaths to prove the whole thing wrong. Yet, I had not a witness. In the end, my crystal castle was shattered by reality; thence came the “wormwood of truth”, as one wise author puts it: my love was more like a nasty thorn sticking out of my haughty gold throne and going four inches into my butt as I presumed to hold an absent court on a Tuesday (And thank God its Friday, or is it?) I really need to sort that out. Her words haunt me like a looming shadow and the sunroom of truth burns my white a**.
Allurements are sweet but then comes the bitter taste of reality. Its kind of like hitting your head. I’ve had four concussions from playing hockey. When you hit your head hard there is a moment where you go: “What the heck just happened?” So my butts got some bumps and bruises, but no need to linger. Demosthenes puts out a remarkable question to the lady. What value is she offering him, aside from a valueless connection? Have you ever done drugs? There is a fleeting moment of joy followed by emptiness; some spend the rest of their lives chasing that feeling and die from it. I don’t want to die. Some of the best things in life are free from grief and make a lot more sense than doll hairs: A warm smile, a red ballon (only if it has helium you can suck out of it), cotton candy, roller blading, sitting on the grass in the summer, reading books at the public library, swimming in the ocean, watching the gorillas at the zoo (who strangely seem to be aware of their captivity and ought to be let out). But my fight isn’t for the Gorrilaz today, though Feel Good Inc. always makes me feel good incorporeally. The savings account of the soul and that of Caesar (I mean King Richard of Virginia) can get strained in the thorny brambles of love, and I wonder if its maybe the wrong kind I’m after…? So somebody get out the darn bandaids and the powdered morphine so we can bandage this guy up cause his guts are falling out all over the green fields and they are supposed to be filled with flowers in the spring and not gizzards for the carrion birds, mkay?
“Every great dream begins with a dreamer. Always remember, you have within you the strength, the patience, and the passion to reach for the stars to change the world.”