February 26, 2011
Friday was rain all day, and since it was my turn to cook, I made lentil soup. I like having the house smell like soup when it’s cold out. I came home, made the lentil soup and then wrote a bit.
This weekend I plan to write some more when I’m not visiting with the in-laws. The plan is to finish editing both of these non-fiction books by the end of March and get them done so I can work on my play, The Moon Landing is a Hoax. My friend Teresa believes strongly that the moon landing is not a hoax. She believes in astronauts and the work they do; I like this and I think she should be a character in my play which is as much as anything about the idea of belief. I don’t believe in any branch of the U.S. government or in local government either. I question the good will of cops, lawyers, judges, all politicians and certainly the CIA, FBI and NSA have done nothing to make Americans believe that they are worthy of trust.
Ron Carlson says, in “Bigfoot Stole my Wife,”
“Believe in everything. Believe in all of history and all the versions of history. Believe the hairs on the back on your neck, believe in unicorns, showers on Tuesday. Everything has happened; everything is possible.” But that’s exactly what I don’t want to do. I don’t believe in the government or in the versions of history that Americans are taught.
The baseball player Crash in Bull Durham played by Kevin Costner, says:
I believe in the soul. The cock, the pussy, the small of a woman’s back, the hanging curveball, high-fiver, good Scotch, that the novels of Susan Sontag are self-indulgent, overrated crap, I believe that Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone, I believe there oughta be a constitutional amendment outlawing Astroturf and the designated hitter. I believe in the sweet spot, soft-core pornography, opening your presents Christmas morning rather than Christmas Eve, and I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days.
What I don’t believe in: Tarot cards, tea leaves, palm readings, that your sign makes any more difference than a coin toss. I don’t believe in the Second Coming, that bull-fighters are better in bed, that having money makes you happy, that being lonely makes you crazy. I don’t believe that I have a guardian angel or that a white guy with a beard is watching us all rumble around this planet and I don’t believe that bread and cheese are bad for you. I don’t believe in video games, pornography, the U.S. government, the 9/11 report, the moon landings, that Oswald acted alone, that books will be replaced by machines. I believe Harlow’s monkey experiment is wrong and we can love our children and spouses wildly even if we were not loved.
I believe in books, wine, sake, raw oysters, passion, that a wild sex life or even just a hold-on-by-your fingernails sex life can sustain the times when you aren’t sure why you’re married. I believe in my own children, and I believe in long marriages and the crazy times they bring. I believe in Nina Simone, Samuel Barber and Morten Lauridsen. I believe in writing as a means of living in the universe. I believe in giving gifts and traveling and the way hotel rooms open like wombs and you enter and are soon naked. I believe in poetry, theatre and that honey is good for you. I believe that grandeur is possible; I have seen it in humans, but not many. I believe that life is a series of doorways, and I believe in going through them. I believe in the ocean and its stories and the water between us and what it carries.