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I live in Berkeley, California, which is pretty much ground zero for liberal philosophy, socialist ideology, and progressive thought in general. Yet, I see so many Berkeley residents living lavish, decadent lives while putting up what seems like little more than a front of caring for the less fortunate. Perhaps they occasionally volunteer somewhere, or dash off a check to a charity now and then, but by and large they live selfishly. I remember the patrons (and managers) at Fizzy’s former workplace who saw nothing wrong with spending $100 on a thermos or $80 on a dustpan. In fact, they seemed to revel in doing so, almost as if they needed to flaunt their wealth and supposed good taste as some misguided way of publicly defining their self-worth. And all the while they espoused the politically correct, “goodwill to fellow man” rhetoric that every self-respecting Berkeley liberal knows by heart. It seemed to be no better than lip service, but no one ever called them out on it.

I don’t pretend for a moment that I am any better. Of course, I don’t have the income of the people I am chastising, but if I did, I wonder how I would behave. Knowing my frugal and bashful nature, I doubt I’d spend money on conspicuous consumption, but doesn’t mean I would rival Mother Teresa were I suddenly to strike it rich. As it stands now, I don’t do much more than the occasional good deed. I volunteered for a time at the San Francisco Food Bank, but that was years ago. Pretty much the extent of my charitable efforts and contributions is whatever money I give to beggars, which can’t amount to more than a few dollars per week on average. Even without a massive bank account, I know I could still do better. In short, I’m no better than the folks I chastise for hypocrisy.

What you ask, prompted me to consider all this stuff? Well, as it happens, the closest residential parking to my apartment is adjacent to the infamous tract of land known as People’s Park. Because of this, I have come to know quite a few of the homeless people who spend their time hanging out at the park. One in particular, Lisa, has taken quite a liking to me. I once bought her a hot dog at Top Dog, and ever since she chats with me. Usually it’s just idle chit chat, but she has asked me a few times now to bring her some fried chicken. Yesterday I was on my way home, and knew I’d be parking by the park, so I made a quick detour to Colonel Sanders’ and bought a 20-piece bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken. Sure enough, Lisa was at the park when I arrived.

I wasn’t prepared for the reaction. I knew they’d be happy to get it– who wouldn’t be happy? It’s fried chicken! but the outpouring of love and gratitude shocked me. Several people hugged me. I was just glad to feed them, but they seemed to see it as more than just that, which is was what set my mind to thinking on this topic.

I realized something yesterday. Happiness is not something I can find within myself. No amount of logic or rational thought is going to provide me with the key to personal satisfaction. Since youth I have been of the opinion that the key to my happiness is centered around finding my place in this universe, and understanding how I can make the lives of those around me better. It’s about interaction, not solitude. For most of my life, I’ve been able (by circumstance or effort I can’t say with certainty) to stay happy. I’ve seldom even thought about the matter– I’ve just been content with life, and felt I was on a path towards satisfaction and success. Lately, I don’t feel that way at all. Instead, I feel more than a little bit lost. I can’t seem to figure out what I’m supposed to do now, or next, and I don’t quite understand my role in life anymore. I think that is the key right there– when I again feel I have a purpose or goal for which to strive, I think I’ll fall back into my naturally happy rhythm.

I’ve been moping and soul-searching for a couple months now. Along the way I’ve improved myself. I’ve identified and corrected many personal character flaws heretofore unbeknownst to me, and I’m working on fixing others. I still have a long way to go; I’m far from “better,” but I’m doing my best to change that. This seems like the time for it– what better time to focus on self-enrichment and personal growth than while I feel sidelined by life? Hopefully before long I’ll get back into a nice groove, and be a better person than I was before. And hopefully I won’t post anymore rambling, introspective blogs like this! Apologies!

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I grew up about a mile and a half from a cemetery. About the time I started high school, I got into the habit of walking there and wandering about amongst the monuments and trees whenever I had any deep thinking to do. If something in my life was uncertain or upsetting, I’d usually find myself able to sort through it while meandering through the cemetery. Even throughout college, anytime I was visiting my parents and had some school issue, career question, or girl problem, I’d hike out to Pleasant Hill and contemplate that which was on my mind.

Cemeteries are possessed of a serenity that is lacking from most other places in this world, and seemingly one of the last places people treat with any sort of dignity or respect. That is, when you even meet another person there, as a cemetery is also a wonderful place for solitude.

Nowadays, the nearest one to me is Oakland’s Mountain View Cemetery. The higher up the hills you go, the grander the markers and mausoleums become, and the more familiar the names become, too. Merritt, Wheeler, Peralta– it’s a veritable who’s who, or rather who was once who, of Oakland history. I sometimes sneak in after closing time and roam about under the moonlight. I’ve spent many nights perched atop various mausoleums, a living gargoyle, motionless except for the occasional movement required to sip from a flask. The Black Dahlia is buried in that cemetery; her grave makes me feel profoundly sad, as though I’ve already outlived my allotted lifespan.

Maybe you are like most of the friends to whom I’ve mentioned this, and you find it creepy or morbid that I like to walk through a burial ground when I need to think, but it’s just something I’ve done for so long that it’s a part of me. To this day, whenever I pass a cemetery, almost as a reflex I momentarily reflect on my life and the events that have shaped me into the person I am today.

In recent years I’ve had a long run of good luck, and I haven’t had much confusion or sorrow to assimilate, but all the recent turmoil in my life has left me with a lot of unsorted thoughts. Yesterday I spent the better part of the afternoon drifting though the vast expanses of Arlington Cemetery.

Seeing row after row of headstones, endless lists of names and dates, and all the loving memories etched into stone, I am reminded that some day I too will be laid to rest in such a place. It helps me put my own problems in perspective, and reinforces the idea that life is ephemeral, and meant to be enjoyed. Whatever task, deadline, girl, loss, or woe looms over me somehow becomes less frightening when taken in that big picture context.

I’ve never been one to dwell on the past, and I tend to look to the unknown of the future with gusto. I’ve been a bit reluctant to do so of late, but I know I have no other choice. As Seneca wrote (though I can’t swear I remember this verbatim) “Fates lead the willing, and drags along the reluctant.” Or something like that. Perhaps more fitting, shown in the picture below, are the words I found etched into a statue outside the National Archives– What is Past is Prologue.

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Today I went in for my annual physical. I am in perfect health, but I’ve lost 20 pounds in the last six weeks. I was on the thin side to begin with (6’3 185 lbs.) so this is not exactly a good thing. This whole “missing Fizzy” thing is the first time in my life that something has really gotten to me so drastically. I need to worry less and eat more.

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Sometimes fate just won’t let your mind rest.

My friend Josh joined me for a game of Scrabble. Seemed like a good idea, and something that would take my mind off other things. It was not meant to be. With one tile left in the bag, I had REGALES at my disposal, but nowhere to play it. I settled for attaching REGAL to an E already on the board. That left me an S and an E. I drew the one remaining tile. You guessed it.

At least there aren’t two Z tiles in the bag.

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Restlessly I searched for her thousands, hundreds of ways.
Suddenly I turned, and there she was in the receding light.

There was a time in my life at which I gave up on love. Up until that point I had engaged in what I felt to be a normal love life– I had dated lots of girls, crushed on lots more, and had a handful of full-fledged girlfriends, but I had never fallen in love with anyone. Now, I do not mean to say that I ever made a conscious decision to “give up;” I did not leap to my feet one day and declare, “I give up on love!” or do anything dramatic of the sort. It was more as if I gradually resigned myself to the fact that I would probably never capture that elusive feeling called love. Without making an active decision to do so, and without even really realizing it at the time, I didn’t date anyone for nearly a year. I turned my focus instead to my own needs, friendships, and business concerns, and had a pretty successful, if celibate, time of things. Then I stepped into an elevator and met the girl with whom I would fall in love.

Somehow, more than six years have passed since I met Sue. Our relationship has been something of a storybook one, but we are about to face our first big challenge. For the next year, she is going to be living in Los Angeles. For my geographically-challenged readers, that is about 400 miles from where we currently live, and where I will remain. I have never been a part of a long-distance relationship before, and I don’t know what to expect. Our plan is to take things as they come, whatever that means.

In the meantime, here at last is a picture of the happy couple. For whatever reason, I have not shared many pictures of myself in this blog (and, before today, none of Sue) but this seems like the right time to finally acquiesce to the requests of more than a few readers.

PICTURE DELETED

That was taken on Christmas Eve of last year. Regular readers will recall that as the date of a most exciting knife fight, chronicled here.

Also– no I do not wear a zoot suit on a daily basis. It is pure coincidence that in one of the only other pictures I have ever shared of myself here I am wearing the same ridiculous outfit. I swear.

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Most afternoons during lunch I read the San Francisco Chronicle. Most likely because today is Valentine’s Day, today’s business section focused on the phenomenon of online dating. I was amazed to read that millions of people worldwide are turning to internet dating sites in hopes of finding love. I won’t lie– I laughed when I read that; then I stopped to ponder the more serious aspects of such a thing.

My first thought was that the most desirable people are not searching for their mates online. Online dating is something of a last resort– nobody starts there; people only turn to the internet when they find their physical appearance and/ or social skills are not such that they are able to find partners in the real world. More than that, people with interesting and fulfilling lives are out living them, not sitting in front of a computer searching for like-minded soul mates. Someone worth dating, and possibly even marrying, isn’t going to be so desperate for love that they run personal ads online. Such people have too many suitors as it is– they certainly aren’t going to waste their time trying to find any more on the internet.

Someone searching for matches online is basically dredging the bottom of the dating pool in hopes of landing a passable catch. Meanwhile, plenty of interesting, active people are coming and going every day, people our internet daters could pursue. Instead, they interact online with the other people who likely share the same common traits: a lack of self-confidence, an inability to make social contact in face-to-face situations, an addiction to the internet, and a willingness to settle for less than the best; in short: hardly an ideal mate.

Just today, while walking to my aforementioned lunch, I encountered a girl standing next to me at a crosswalk. It was raining, and she had no umbrella. I only saw the back of her head at first, but on reflex I shielded her with my umbrella. She was polite and thankful, and we walked the next block together until I arrived at my chosen luncheon spot (La Fiesta). During that block walk we chatted a bit. As it turned out the front of her head was even cuter than the back of it, and were I single and looking for a date or a girlfriend or what have you, I’d have asked her for her phone number. I relate that story to illustrate only the most recent opportunity I had to meet someone, but that’s neither here nor there. What matters is the moral to the story: there is no shortage of fun, attractive, single people in this world. Said moral leads nicely into Today’s Question: Why would anyone sift through the anonymous, unwanted masses online when a world full of real, live, desirable people is just outside his or her door?

The Chronicle article had all manner of losers at the bottom of the page relating their online dating horror stories. One poor fellow admitted that he flew all the way to Thailand, only to find that his soul mate was dating multiple men she had met online. Oddly, this seemed to surprise him. You’d think anyone willing to fly to Thailand of all places just to meet a woman would be used to facing such disappointments and embarrassments on a daily basis.

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Currently Playing: Marvin Gaye – Let’s Get It On

For years I’ve played it as a last song at parties of all sorts. All the drunks love to get down to it. The couples do a starry-eyed rotating hug to it. The fraternity boys loved to grind the sorority girls to it. And on one level, it’s perfect for all of those actions. Let’s get it on– the title says it all, right? Except it’s not just about sex and lust, right?

I’ve been really tryin’, baby
Tryin’ to hold back these feelings for so long
And if you feel, like I feel baby
Come on, oh come on
Let’s get it on

That doesn’t sound like lust at all, does it? Not that it would be a bad thing if that’s all it were. If the song were just a pick-up line, it would still be incredibly soulful and a beautiful piece of music, but it wouldn’t transcend pop music the way it does, and it wouldn’t be one of the better love songs I know. It’s because it’s simultaneously sexy AND loving that it is so good.

We’re all sensitive people
With so much to give, understand me sugar
Since we’ve got to be
Let’s live
I love you

That’s the point at which the song catches you off guard. The sultry music, the breathless vocals, and the pre-conceived notion of what “Let’s Get It On” must be all steer you in one direction, and suddenly he throws in an “I love you.” (And on a side note, has any singer EVER uttered those words in a more sensual fashion than Marvin Gaye does here? Doubtful.)

Best love song ever? Maybe.

Today’s Question: What do you think?

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I’ve been ruminating about my future lately. Most of the time, I feel as if I have a solid foundation underfoot, and my life is going in the direction I want to see it go, but once in awhile I catch myself wondering if somehow I should be doing more. It’s like there is this check list of the basics in life,

significant other
family
friends
career
financial stability
general fulfillment
and so on,

and I have a nice check next to each one, and it’s allowing me to sort of coast along a little bit. Is there some way I could be doing more? Could I be changing the world around me in positive way more than I already am, if I even am doing so at all? Is it enough to have nailed down all the fundamental aspects of life, or should I be striving to “take it to another level,” or however one would say it in the Attitudinal Beliefs patois?

I asked myself– where will I be ten years from now? Will I still live here in my college apartment? Will I be doing the same job? Will I be married? Will I be a father? Just what will I be doing come 2014? Or will the Mayans have risen from the dead and eaten us all by then, so it won’t even matter? I didn’t have a very precise answer to any of those questions.

Nothing else in this world seems to stay the same, so who is to say that the person I am right now won’t also be subject to that state of eternal flux that plagues everything else. Whatever is taken for granted today could be gone tomorrow, or I may lose the things I need later on; or they might not even be there in the first place. I have no idea what I am talking about anymore.

My life is great right now, but it could probably be even better. I hope ten years from now I can re-read this blog and say without a doubt that I bettered my life since authoring it.

Today’s Question: Ten years from now. You. Well?

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Lucubration often fosters the most random, yet poignant, thoughts. Combine the deep thoughts of a late hour with a melancholy song, and you have all the ingredients for… something. I sort of lost steam there. What I believe I mean to say is, although I have a very happy life, and a positive demeanor in general, it is sometimes nice to listen to a particularly well-written sad song, and step for a moment into the persona of the singer. It’s almost enough to make me wish I were melancholy, at least for a night, just so I could better relate to the powerful sentiment the singer is expressing.

If only I’d thought of the right words
I could have held on to your heart
If only I’d thought of the right words
I wouldn’t be breaking apart
All my pictures of you

Actually, I take that back. I want to be sad so I could write a song like this, not just relate to it.

Currently Playing: The Cure – Pictures of You

You can click the artist or title to hear the song, but for those who have their speakers turned off, here are some more lyrics:

Looking so long at these pictures of you
But I never hold on to your heart
Looking so long for the words to be true
But always just breaking apart
My pictures of you

If you know me at all, you know I am a massive fan of The Smiths; which means, I am supposed to dislike Robert Smith and The Cure. I’m not that sort of music fan. There are plenty of songs by The Cure that I adore, and this one is probably my favorite of the bunch. If pressed, I’ll say I think their overall body of work is uneven, but that is a blog for a different day.

There was nothing in the world
That I ever wanted more
Than to feel you deep in my heart
There was nothing in the world
That I ever wanted more
Than to never feel the breaking apart
All my pictures of you

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Currently Playing: Lou Reed – Perfect Day

Sunny day + Long Walk + Canopy of trees overhead = visible beams of sunshine

Neapolitan slice at Arinell’s Pizza

Working the N.Y. Times Crossword while eating (sipping?) an affogato at Gelateria Naia.

Paying the extra $1.50 for the cash-strapped couple in front of you in line at Gelateria.

Comic store!

Browsing the used record bins at Amoeba Records.

Playing the saxophone over the din of the Port of Oakland

Pickup game of basketball at the Berkeley RSF.

Dinner and a movie with Fizzy.

Today’s Question: So, like what’s YOUR perfect day?

Interesting tidbit– I met a fellow who was contemplating opening a gelato shop on Fourth St. in Berkeley. He told me the tale of why Mondo Gelato is now called Gelateria Naia. So Mondo Gelato had three shops– Beijing, Vancouver, and Berkeley. The management of the Berkeley store, in true Berkeley fashion, staged a coup and broke free from the parent company. They basically took over the store, closed it, and re-opened under the new name. They had to vary the recipe for each gelato, but otherwise kept things the same. And now it is Gelateria Naia. That is neat and disturbing, all at once.