Date: Fri, 25 Apr 2003 06:24:06 -0600 From: Jennie Packard To: johnny at charm.net Subject: love song to the list, or the next kind of cool Mr. Salas suggests: We should form a J-List real world. We could put a bunch of us in a small home and see what hilarity ensues!" Oh, Mr. Salas, Thanks for that thought. This list can use all the laughs it can get. I woke up in the still-dark, stumbled around trying to find clothes and glasses without waking my beloved, snuck off to the computer. My heart is full of something. Why did I wake up thinking of this list? I'm still a bit asleep. So here it is, whatever it is direct from dreamland, a something pushing against my throat. Only one way to deal with that: type and see what happens. ------------------------------- Oh, my beloved family, all you Johnnies, your beautiful dreams of clarity and understanding, your wretchedness, your hatreds honed and gloated over. Your left brain is a good friend but a bad master. Let it go, let go of the wrangling, and make energetical progress in the good. If you are not happy, your head can only be a little penlight in the gloom. One day's hard work in a garden is worth a year on the therapist's couch. Are you the boss of your brain, or is it the boss of you? If you told it to SHUT UP and let you be for a moment, would it listen? If you are so angry, get a big stick. Beat the hell out of some rock somewhere, and scream all the dirt in your heart down onto the earth that you are made of. Use your hands for a change. Break into your skull, tear out your brain, wash it in a river, squeeze out the mess and leave the poor sponge to air out on a sunny rock somewhere. You will not die without it. Walk away, and see what else there is in you. Your brain will be there when you get back, and are ready to make better use of it. Your guts, you heart, your soul; these poor shriveled parts of you are starving for your attention. Who would you be if you weren't the Smart Ones anymore? Would you be worth anything to yourself? Would anyone want to spend time with you? Aren't there other parts of you worth saving? Was it ever the Beautiful Ideas that tied us to each other? Wasn't it more to do with our loneliness, our weakness, our sadness, and the sudden astonishing joy of finding ourselves among others of our own kind? Back then we delighted in our special kind of cool, so far removed from the towns and cities that bore us. Where we came from, smart was not cool. But don't outstay your welcome, my beloveds, the best and worst of you. That kind of cool did your heart good, when you were a child. Now it is time for the next kind of cool. Now kindness must trump being shown to be right, or all your shimmering cool will harden, leaving you just plain cold. Mercy, beloveds. The game is long over. We were special, and beautiful, and we tried so hard. There is no harm in being seen again and recognized, reliving the old glories and defeats, using our special endearments and coded love talk now and again. I saw what was in you then: fear, pride, vitriol. Of course they were out of your control. We were young, and so far from ourselves, so full of struggles and trying to be born. I expect more from you now, my friends. You can still be seen, you can still be heard and recognized. You are still important. But are you ready for the new kind of cool? Graduate yourselves! You have nothing to lose but your bitterness. From now on, every word from your lips must be spoken in kindness. Every thought you allow to grow in your mind must do you some good. Every gesture you make must be productive of love. Who are you to fill this world with arguments and recriminations? You spent your youth speaking. That's how you learned that you are something. Now grow up, be quiet, and learn that you are nothing. ------------- Just then there was a very loud noise outside, a deep crashing boom. I don't know what it was, maybe the garbage men came early, or maybe a kid came by with a stick and took a whack at our big plastic garden shed just for fun. In any case, Robert woke up and found me gone. He imagined Bad Things, and rushed naked into the living room calling my name. I said, I'm Ok, I'm fine, I don't know what that was. He grabbed me and hugged me. We sighed. Now I'm going back to bed. Goodnight, goodmorning, sweet dreams and fine days to all. May your breakfast coffee and bearclaws be hot, may your lunchtime tofu and noodles with peanut sauce be cold, and may you always be as happy as I am in this moment. --wait! breaking news- my love tells me that there are now several SWAT teams at the end of the block-that noise was a "Flash Bang"-Robert says it's Like A Giant Firecracker Used to Stun and Confuse During High Risk Arrests or Hostage Situations! Holy cow! more later-- Miss Packard SF89