I just got off the phone with a friend who was bitching about women. I always find it odd when you have a male friend who bitches. Esp. who bitches about women, as if they are aliens. And then he bitches to a woman because after all, can men bitch to men? I mean, is that done? Women, he said, are just so "f-ing sensitive." I kept working and not really listening, though I was beginning to feel a bit sensitive myself. Sigh. I was very tempted to read him this little piece I wrote a while ago.
Male Logic
(an excerpt from a poem in Sleeping with Houdini.)
One day, I gave up and said, “Listen, Honey, I’m sorry. Maybe I’m just having a bad day. But I think we’re finished. I don’t know what else to say.”
That’s when you handed me that tape entitled, Reason Your Way To Bliss. I tried to listen to it. Honestly, I did. But I stopped, every time I got to that point where the speaker (a man, of course—only a man would equate reason and bliss) was saying: If you take a rock and examine it beneath a microscope, it is no different from a human beneath a microscope. Everything on earth is just atoms and molecules. But I ask you, can a rock have a bad day? Can a bad day be seen beneath a microscope? Of course it can’t. If a rock is smart enough not to have a bad day, then how could you be having a bad day? In truth bad days do not exist. Humans and rocks do. I had to turn off the tape. This, Love, is male logic at its best.
Walt Whitman
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There was never any more inception than there is now,
Nor any more youth or age than there is now,
And will never be any more perfection than there is no...
23 minutes ago