Air Over Paper
This thing about life being unfair, Doc, yeah, I found out about that alright. 10 years of marriage and then this thing called divorce. I figured I had done everything right. Worked a good job and was responsible and she kept saying she loved me for 10 years until she didn't. I do remember believing it was finally over, for real, when she turned her back to me when she unhooked her bra. I got it, it was over, though her boobies weren't exactly a new package to me.
I bring up this cliché about life not being fair in regards to Brokenman. I think the nerve that it hits in some of us has to do with the reality that yes indeed, life ain't fair sometimes. You see, you do everything smart, and you think right, and follow all the signs to Tipperary, but before you get there a rock from the truck up ahead of you shatters your windshield.
I think the dude is smart and right on nice. He looked around, did the required 101 on Stick, and played the odds good, chose the better ones at craps, than roulette. But he lost his greenbacks anyway. If you pray and lead a good life, you might still find a drunk driver slamming into ya crushing one of your legs so you are left with one good one and another that is made from plastic and covered with pink nauseous covered fake skin. Doc, you know what I'm talking about? That's why some wise ass came up that slogan- "Shit Happens".
So I don't agree that Brokenman sucked doing what he did. But Doc, hair can grow out of the most unpleasant places even though you have done a good job shaving. All the pits and pores can't be covered.
You can hear all the Holt wisdom (and it is damn good stuff), but it's still just trying to up the odds.
I remember this beautiful planned wedding I went to. The bride was a porcelain piece and the groom got all this money and they hired the right place and everyone wore the right clothes. During the ceremony when the clams are saying their vows, the bride's grandmother upchucked and the vomit sprayed its nasty colors.. They should have waited to serve drinks until AFTER the wedding but who knew the old cluck would drink too much from a free bar.
Should Brokenman give up his quest for love? If so, you screw metal plate over a heart and you can't hear it beating anymore..
You ever see those bitter guys in bars who have given up? I'd rather sit next to a Brokenman rung out from drunk than next to one of those deadened blokes.
With Brokenman, you want to read how his pieces come back together. You think, yeah, the guy got shot, and you want his recovery. Maybe because you don't wanna give up the dream yourself. You know the life ain't fair shit but that's not gonna stop you from moments, like the first kiss, or her taking off the back straps and seeing her pink nips for the first time. It's so damn exciting. Your joint is concrete.
Or when you're sick and she's there and feels your head. The touch of her hand is gentle and soft and silk. I guess this goes back to the thing about whether it is better to be a cynic or sucker?
Give me the candy; tastes so good, worth the holes in your teeth.. So there ain't no shame in going for the true puss. Which takes me to Stick's decision to stay in Land of Smiles.
You can take a boat down the Chao Phraya and there are almond shaped eyes framed by dazzling faces and there is a very good chance you look into the Thai peepers of one of these ladies and she might flash a shy smile at ya that'll make your heart sing Whole Lotto Love by Zeppelin played all the way up. You walk along most Western streets and most female peepers are pork rind.
You stray along in Western cities, alone, and you feel alone.
I went to this church gig with a lady and we're sitting there hearing the leper story and his inclusion in the community the point of the sermon. I look around and there is this middle aged guy sitting alone. No one smiles as he leaves, alone.
I never feel alone, somehow, in BKK. Or maybe it's a different feel of being alone, but the hell, it feels much happier.
The West is cleaner and more comfortable. The cobbles of the Beacon Hill Street, as Dana could tell you, last long, but there are no purple flowers around that allow imagination and feasts of erotic flights.
Political correctness, as everyone says, is the dickhead reality in the west, and you better not pound it or they'll sue your bohonkus.
And weather does matter. Kiwi cold ain't no pretty color in a romance movie but a freeze that can jolt you along the fibers of your spine.
Yeah, you sweat your pits off in Bangkok, but then you can shower and tummy up on the white sheets as she rubs and strokes you and you anticipate with crazy glee the happy ending you know gonna purr please you.
Paper is dead wood and does not move freely like air.
Man gotta have that or he turn blue.
(Though I'd rather turn to pink, if you catch my drift.)
Which brings me back to Brokenman.
You never gonna smile if you never gonna dream.
Dude, I wanna wish you luck and hear again your broke gets fixed.
We all dream.