Sometimes it’s hard to go back and trace your thought process and try to find the beginning of an idea. It’s like when you’re sitting with your friends and you start talking about something you read in the newspaper and the next thing you know you’re all singing “Eye of the Tiger” for reasons nobody can remember.
This started with an e-mail from a friend where he was proclaiming his love for Leonard Cohen’s song “Suzanne.” Which lead me to listen to “Suzanne.” Which made me too sad because Cohen reminds me of the TTHM. So then since I was already kinda bummed, I popped on the “Bring it Right Down” playlist which has the Ryan Adams’ song “Dear Chicago” on it which is just totally bad news all over the place.
So from there I got to thinking about all the men I’ve known before, and for some reason I remembered the three coolest things ever said to me by the male of the species (at least the three coolest things I can remember right now). Two of which I’ve written about before and the third coming from Ben Jones.
It was the night I was going to confess my love for him, at least I think I was. I think I might have even gone through with it. We were drunk, both of us, and I think he might have had a girlfriend right then. I don’t remember what I said to provoke his response but I remember he said, “You have the most incredible capacity for love. You just love with abandon and don’t even worry about what might happen.”
When he spoke those words a decade ago, they were true. I gave love freely and asked for nothing in return. But somewhere along the way I grew afraid. I’d like to blame it on The Outlaw, but I think it happened even before him. I’m not sure what I am afraid of, being thought a fool? Not being loved in return? Not getting the kind of love I want?
It’s all pathetic and ridiculous and in the grand scheme of things doesn’t matter a damn bit. At all. Every time my heart has been broken, I have recovered. It’s that old Myth of Pain. And all that pain? I just put it into my short stories. Pain begets art, I believe.
I spent much of last part of 2006 pretending to be 22 again, and failing miserably. Now I know why, I forgot about the loving with reckless abandon and the joy it brings. So after all that, and listening to “Dear Chicago” over and over again, I had the epiphany.
I need to bring back the love. So I am declaring 2007, the year of loving with reckless abandon. I’m jumping into everything with both feet motherfuckers, so you better watch out.