Heartless Diamonds

Last week, I read somewhere that social media makes people feel less fulfilled so I took a week off from blogging and concentrated on my tangible life. BIG MISTAKE. There are many things I enjoy about the tangible world but not many people. I love my husband more than air and I wish I didn’t have to share him with anyone else. My best friend from my wild youth makes me laugh and tells me my anger is situational and has nothing to do with peri-menopause, menopause, lack of hormones, surplus of other hormones, or any of that hokey crap the advertisements would have you believe before you get depressed and schedule a face lift.

I am mourning the disappearance of another piece of cultural history. Lou Reed has kicked it. As I’ve said before, I will not be going to FL, ever, but I could be convinced to make a trip to F- L- A. The first time I tried marriage, I was introduced to Tom Waits and expanded my appreciation for Lou Reed, the Ramones and others prone to snarly, irreverent, musical disdain. Lou Reed was hot when he was young. He had nice lips. The Ramones weren’t as appealing but they had a cool name. Although, I suppose it wouldn’t be as cool if you were a Ramone, singular. I have never been mistaken for cool.

Lou Reed’s demise got me thinking about people I’ve known who’ve succumbed to self-inflicted disease, my brother among them. I have a tendency to romanticize everyone else’s life. I  do not imagine other people smothering in the vanilla pudding of monotony that I must withstand. Except that they do. They must. Even Lou Reed did. I know my brother did. Hours of doctor’s appointments where money cannot extend your life, wishing you didn’t have to wait for test results, losing control of what you have and where you have it. I don’t know that they’d trade being dead for the common dullness of my ordinary life but maybe they would. Probably they’d make a deal with the devil, “I’ll live elroy’s life, I promise, just let me live again.” They’d get here, suss it out, and leave to get a pack of cigarettes, never to be heard from again.

My neighbors up the street are retired academics and anarchists. They are the sorts of people who still carry a small amount of cash, in a pocket separate from their wallets, in case they are arrested so they can make bail. They are in their late 70s. I admire them. They shine in comparison to some of the younger people I am acquainted with. Maybe you’ve met them too, the kids who identify with the Kardashians. The young adults who spend $10k that they don’t have on glitter they can’t afford so that they can posture for their peers. When they are my age who will they admire? I prefer the kids who buy nothing and make do with a good deal on a cheap adventure.

My friend is right. The anger I feel is situational. It has less to do with the depletion or surplus of hormones than it has to do with being chronically intolerant of bullshit. I don’t want to see your diamonds. Show me your heart.

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About elroyjones

Married, no children, responsibly self-directed, living happily.
This entry was posted in Human Condition and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

24 Responses to Heartless Diamonds

  1. Peggy says:

    Right on Sista!

  2. I ain’t got no diamonds elroy 🙂 but I’ve still got Lou Reed LP’s…

  3. I honestly thought you had gotten sick of my bullshit and pulled the plug…

    • elroyjones says:

      Will you stop, it can’t be all about you all the time. Didn’t you notice that I hadn’t posted anything in forever? I am a little bit concerned about the roots of the pine tree and I think it may be a good idea to look at your homeowner’s insurance policy in case the roots disrupt the neighbor’s foundation, pipes, etc.

  4. hebe in dc says:

    Loved this. Well said.

  5. Smothering in vanilla pudding. 🙂

    Digging away to fill the hole.

  6. John says:

    Well said… especially about vanilla pudding!

    It’s your posts like this that make me love you so much!

  7. I was never a big fan of Lou Reed, but then I’m also not a big fan of people. I know he represented something in our generation and his passing represents something else that I’m having to get more comfortable with … I like the simple bravery of your writing.

    • elroyjones says:

      Teresa, as always it is good to hear from you. After I posted this I figured you might stop in. I’m not sure that I’m brave- if it’s on my mind it’s out of my mouth, not always a good thing. Thanks very much for taking the time to comment.
      Yes, we’ll all have to get comfortable with “something else”.

  8. maesprose says:

    “I have never been mistaken for cool.” I like that line… I can’t be mistaken for it either. You speak the truth and I find your neighbors amusing.

  9. Chronically intolerant of bullshit . . . I think they have drugs for that.

  10. Michael Sadowski says:

    Adios, Lou. RIP and we’ll see you down the road.
    (PS- how old are you anyway? I know you won’t say and that’s okay. Just thought I’d ask you anyway.) Love your take on life. I’m still out here and following…

    • elroyjones says:

      I’m 51, Michael. Those decades whizzed by.
      In reading your blog, I notice that you have been considering lots of BIG questions. The BIG questions are highly overrated. The retrospective is also highly overrated, not that I don’t indulge myself in that useless endeavor with boring regularity. We made the choices we did regardless of whether or not they were the most pragmatic decisions ever made.
      It doesn’t seem that we are solely responsible for this AARP reality and even if we are solely responsible, this is it. I confessed to my husband, the other night, that I don’t believe I will be able to maintain this pace for the next 20-30 years, 30 years is a bit optimistic. Even if we were well positioned for retirement, it is unlikely that retirement funds would sustain the ever increasing costs of basic survival.
      You’re in good company in the quest for answers and solutions- I’m right beside you, as are legions of others. It doesn’t help in your individual struggles with calamity, I know.
      Please do NOT stop writing, you are very funny. I love a caustic zinger now and then. That sounds like a drink- “I’d like a Caustic Zinger and an IPA for my friend here” or maybe a new tea, “Have a steeping cup of Caustic Zinger before you quit your job and tell your boss to stuff it.”
      Thanks very much for following and commenting, I appreciate it.

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