well, this morning was interesting. my wife called my son's phone (for some reason, i never seem to actually have my phone on me), and told me that she needed my help. she'd gone to walk the dog, and somewhere en route, had run into a loose pit bull. i suppose if it had been me, then i would have steered clear (especially having our hyperactive dog with me), but because my wife is so kind-hearted, she basically guided the dog up towards our house. but she was stuck at the culdesac at the bottom of our street because the dog would no longer follow her.
so i walked down to the bottom of the street, and tried to help her. for some reason, the dog kind of followed us. he was a big dog, at least for us and for me (our own dog is a pipsqueak, a chihuahua-terrier-pappion (sp?) mix). i could see his large jaws, and i noted in particular, the lower jaw with its spiky interlocking teeth... the dog, despite its large muscular appearance, and its menacing slobbering jaws, was actually very friendly and docile. it basically followed us home.
in the garage where we temporarily kept him, i kept rubbing the back of his neck, then his back, and then his belly (because he started to roll over on his back). my hands became greasy with his sweat and stink. but i actually enjoyed him. then, he started getting excited, and would try to hump me. i had to kept getting up, or making my legs wider than he could grasp with his forepaws, or he would be "doing his dance" on me, and i wasn't having any of it...
anyway, to make a long story short... i posted pictures of him on facebook. lynn and i then decided to walk over to the street where she'd found him, lehiwa, which is sort of a main drive in the area. we thought that if we just sort of parked ourselves on the side of that road, that eventually the owner (likely driving slow, and calling out) would pass by. in the meantime, i had gotten hold of some people via facebook who were really very interventionist about this sort of thing. one woman offered to come by and see if the dog had any chip implanted in him, and if so, she would find the owner.
anyway, lynn also got the help of this one talkative woman who lived on our street. she was kind enough to bring a bowl of water, some snacks, and some umbrellas (it was raining sporadically). the chip-reader lady eventually came down, read the chip, and was in contact with the owners right away (they said they'd come down in five minutes). meanwhile, the chip-reader lady and the talkative lady on our street started having a conversation about golden retrievers. the chip-reader lady was kind of a purist, who felt that she could not trust any local breeders because no one really did their due diligence, and had the right paperwork (outlining any possible genetic disorders, etc.)... the talkative lady from our street, on the other hand, had sort of a "whatevahs" attitude towards breeding. she wanted to get her own golden bred. the two exchanged numbers, though it was clear that the chip-reader lady was going to require a lot more paperwork and reassurances than the talkative lady was willing to give...
anyway, the true owners came in a hunting truck (a truck with a cage embedded into its rear bed), and they identified the dog as "bully." bully willingly went with them, and that was that...
*****
i went home, undressed, showered. i could smell the stink of bully on me. not entirely unpleasant, though with the rain and sweat, it probably wasn't going to make anyone (particularly my wife) happy.
then for some reason i got really tired. i tried to meditate, but i felt several times that i needed to rest. it wasn't that i was necessarily physically tired. but i notice that my eyes tend to wander, my vision blurs, and it seems as though there are so many thoughts crowding around in my head that i need to lie down with my eyes closed so that they can just sort of circulate... it almost feels as though my thoughts are like water, and my head is just full of this violent churning current... at such points, it almost seems impossible to meditate, because i will only be on the verge of nodding off.
it's funny how sleep can make my eyes feel burnt. like they are flashbulbs (from the old cameras) that have used up their luminescence in a brilliant burst. and now, there are fading afterimages on the insides of my eyelids...
*****
i listened to the song "king of pain" by sting. for some reason, i had a feeling of nostalgia when i thought of that song (that is, the song spontaneously came up, and the feeling of nostalgia accompanied it). i had never known the lyrics for some parts of the song, notably that rejoinder (?). for example, sting would sing "there's a little black spot on the sun today..." and then there's a part where sting sings a sort of response. it turns out that that response is always "that's my soul up there." and that made the song seem even more poignant for me... that pain is the distance and separation from the soul. maybe as king of pain he observes it, and maybe has a kind of objective distance from it, but it is pain nonetheless to- maybe even not be capable of feeling that pain. i don't know.
i sang some karaoke (alone) tonight, trying out a new speaker that my wife bought me for father's day. i was trying to target songs that would make me feel. feel something. usually, those songs ended up being somewhat poignant. for example, "king of pain." or "the crying scene" (aztec camera). or "best i ever had" (vertical horizon). or "something's always wrong" (toad the wet sprocket). or "black balloon" (goo goo dolls). and, as always, i had flashes of other people i'd like to impress with my singing. and i had thoughts about the performative aspect of life... and how we always seek to live through the attentions of others... for without that, what is there?
i thought of how cats used to rub themselves on my legs, constantly, like i was some source of static electricity or something. it used to make me feel special. it used to make me feel like- i don't know- i had some sort of power, or attraction, or something. and i think that that's what my life has always been about... this secret yearning for attention. because without it, i would drown in this... i don't know, oblivion. that's why, upon reflection, i have always questioned why i need people to pay attention, and why i can't be "my own person." it's such a puzzle. is there life outside of attention? if no one saw me, would i exist?
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