Essay: On Feeling Unrequited Love

So does this story ring true for you? So, he has not called in a week nor does he answer calls. Voicemail messages are never recorded (the phone rings and rings).

     Nor does he respond to text messages, e-mails, Myspace messages, or mental vibes sent through psychic airwaves. The last time we spoke was at a party, but even then the conversation was limited. He was drinking a beer and gave lots of non-verbal clues that he was not going to engage in conversation other than, "Hey, wassup?" When trying to establish a day or time to "hang out" his response is non-committal: a simple shrug of the shoulder. He says, looking everywhere except in your eyes, "We'll get together, yeah". When questioned why he had not answered any calls or responded to texts, he explains he always gets them too late to respond. Feeling the need to be annoyed, the words "Yeah, I don't think you're an asshole, though" spill out. At that moment there is a tension there that was not there in the past. When the truth emerges that he is not that important in your world, you think, "Move on" but it is hard to completely remove someone from your life. So you make adjustments. The relationship is akin to a liberated son promising his mom he will visit on weekends. Not likely to happen. Abandoning ship does seem to be the best option, but at the same time, you do not sense the relationship is going to suddenly take on wings and fly to new unexplored heights.
   It is a tough call to determine when a relationship has reached the end of its lifespan. When is it necessary to bail out or adjust the terms of engagement? Needs change and expectations dwindle. There may still be love but the need "to be together" has faded. Friendships have boundary lines. There are unsaid lines drawn in the sand. The desire to move a relationship forward could be negated by the other party's unwillingness to go with it. Perhaps they lose interest. Or they got a bad vibe. People are super sensitive. We process subtle messages and act accordingly. The pain of separation is equal to the amount of initial energy and time invested.
   If it is a friend you only met recently and oddly the relationship ends because she moves away, the pain of separation will probably not be as great as a friendship cultivated throughout many years that suddenly terminates.
   The lyric from the Sondheim song "every day a little death" makes sense when one considers the many times love is given only for it to eventually subside and cease to be. Every day there is a little death, not only in our bodies but in the course of our relationships.

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News Report: Was it Dolly Parton New Year's Eve?

One Night in the French Quarter
While out last night in the French Quarter, my friend Dana and I saw Dolly Parton perform

Can the Real Dolly Parton Please Stand Up?

at Napoleon's Itch. It was completely a coincidence. We had just left the OZ (with its unabashed showcase of flesh) to go to Napoleon's Itch and there she was in her voluptuous glory. The small bar barely could fit fifty people. Everyone was clamoring to get Dolly's attention. At one point some Mary called out, "I love you, Dolly!" and she responded, "I love you too but I told you to wait for me in the truck"! She sang the duet "Islands in the Stream" with the bartender (he was no Kenny Rogers but it was funny). I wish she would have sung "Travellin' Thru". I think she sang for forty-five minutes. And then she left backstage as quickly as she had appeared.
Figuring Out Whether It Was Dolly or Not
Dana told me that Dolly is friends with the guy who owns the bar which is why we were feted with such amazing grace. I was so happy to see Dolly that I just had to write this down in a blog. When I was a kid I used to listen to "9 to 5" over and over again. Seeing her last night was a great way to celebrate New Year's Eve.

Addenda: I found this article (now archived) from the Times Picayune that states Dolly sang for Mardi Gras too. But, further digging on the internet I found reportage that said it was not Dolly but a look-alike performer, Sandy Vee Anderson.

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Report from Louisiana: Gay Friendly Libraries Are in Danger

A children's book that features two princes who marry
has garnered outrage in a local Louisiana library.

Gay books may be banned in local libraries in Louisiana and the State Congress agrees.

***

Or why gay-themed books in libraries are in danger...
In Slidell, Louisiana, a patron complained that the Saint Tammany Parish Library should not make available gay-themed books to young people. You can read the story here.

Basically, a state representative is trying to write a bill banning public libraries in the state from having books with gay characters available to children and young people. In other words, a book cannot have two prince charmings in love with each other. Similar to this was a movement made by concerned citizens that Fontainebleau High School, also in Louisiana, should not have a gay/straight alliance (Read here What the ACLU has to say).

A Ten Year High School Reunion and Teachers

   We celebrated the tenth year our class from Mandeville High School graduated and went on to bigger and better things. Even though a high school reunion is très weird, I actually wallowed in the weirdness. Apart from not recognizing one of my friends from school AT ALL (which was very embarrassing) I really had loads of fun. Last year, I had gone to a high school reunion with a friend and it was horrible. Albeit, I got über drunk but that is beside the point. So, I must admit I had low expectations for this reunion. My friend Melanie convinced me to go (here we are together).
It is like going to a review of your life that you have to own up to people you may not really have desired to supply a status update (or they would be on your twitter).
   I found out some of my classmates are now working for Microsoft; another is a professor; another one is a stand-up comic and one is a urologist. A few unemployed and lots of moms and dads.
   I’m a former-monk-now-school-teacher-cum writer. No matter how you shake it: a reunion is a battle of comparisons. “So, what are you doing now?” is the question rampant in the room. At the reunion I spoke to someone who had been following my blog when I was on my road trip this past summer (see previous entries); she told me unsolicitedly she enjoyed reading my stuff. She said she was waiting for my novel. Hmmmm. I want to write a novel but I am afraid of the solitude. Hah. I can only write holed up in coffee houses and in between frequent masturbations.
    After that, the writing process, between cups of coffee and some smokes, becomes arduous and I miss flesh and blood people. I figure to give my fictional character life I should enter back into the human circle. So I have a note to my readers: the novel I have yet to write will not be on the scale of Les Misérables but it won’t be the puny exercises of the Spiderwick Chronicles either (who wants to pony up ten bucks for a cheap pleasure that can just be as easily gotten with a trip to the Public Library?). Although, I loved the movie. So, I think, for now, I will have to consign my dreams to the prison chamber of my mind and satisfy my would-be customers with ephemeral writings with adjacent pictures. This blog does not have a theme. I will need to focus on theming my blogs in the future but … If I could find a job writing I would quit teaching today. I do not feel like teaching. I know. It is a sin to say such a thing, especially when you are a teacher … but I have to say I put in my resignation the other day. I will not be back at my school come Fall of 2009. I have five months until I am unemployed. I need a job. I need to finish writing my thesis (I know … it is long overdue) I need to pay a traffic fine I incurred in Ozona, Texas ($300 and there is a warrant for my arrest). So, if you send me an email and I do not reply, you can safely assume that I am behind bars writing my novel. My criminal record is the reason I have not given detention to any of my students in the past five months. If they only knew what was on their teacher’s record. So, for the record, I do not dole out punishments anymore. Although, the quality of mercy was not strained. For, yesterday, the last day of school, a student had his iPhone splayed out on his lap during the final exam. These are juniors, so they know better. Come on. I thought to myself. You do not do that during an exam, especially the final exam. I went up to him and said, “Are you crazy? Give me that.” He obediently gave over the phone. I figured I would return the device after the exam was done. But, then I thought, “what was he doing with the phone? Was he text messaging answers to another student? Jesus.” This is the easiest way for students to cheat: “what’s the answer to number 9?”. Students love to one-up the teacher. Teaching, I have learned, is a battle zone where altruism does not exist. It is a battle of the One versus the many — and I do not mean that in an ontological way. Or, as a veteran teacher told me, “teaching is like keeping a herd of horses at bay".
   But back to the story: just as I confiscated his phone, the assistant principal walked into the room. I said to her, “Here is a confiscated phone” and she said to the blanched-faced student, “Get it after the holidays.” After she left the student said, “Why did you do that?!”  The other students were exceptionally jubilant that I had caught him. I am sure in the future, when he is thirty, at his high school reunion, he will still be convinced I scarred him for life.
   The entire class of twenty-seven had bright smiles on their faces — there was communal satisfaction. When the exam was completed, one of the students gave me a Christmas card. Inside was written a note thanking me for teaching her and that she would miss the class (I get a different bunch of students next semester). Newton comes in handy here: for every action, there is an opposite and equal reaction. It applies to physics, but could easily be applied to the classroom.
Café Luna New Orleans, Louisiana

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La Troupe De La Salle Presents The Sword in the Stone

Click the image for a larger view:
That time I directed a high school play  — Frank Levy and Bonnie Bess Wood's adaptation of The Sword and the Stone.
Update!!! 
To all my Blogger and Facebook friends: I have been working with a cast of twenty-five young people for the last two months. We are performing The Sword in the Stone. The story tells the tale of how the young boy Arthur grew up and became the legendary king of England. Frank Levy from Stories in Motion wrote the play. He adapted the story from the ancient legend for a contemporary audience. The show is funny and poignant and full of energy. We had our opening night this week and the show was a success. If you all could make it to tonight’s performance through Saturday (doors open at 7:00 and the show starts at 7:30) it would be great! Tickets are five dollars at the door at De La Salle High School on the third-floor theater in the Brother Arsenius Student Center. Parking is in the school parking lot on Leontine Street and St. Charles Ave. between the Jewish Community Center and the school. The show runs an hour and a half with a fifteen-minute intermission.

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Storm Report: On Leaving New Orleans for Hurricane Gustav

     After two beers and a Tylenol, I took a nap as Gustav was positioned 365 miles out in the Gulf of Mexico, inching its way inland.

Hurricane Gustav's trajectory 

according to the National Weather Service.

 
     Outside on the highways, contra-flow had begun directing people on the interstate highways east, west and north but I preemptively hate long lines, so I decided to get half-way inebriated and wait until evening, my only concern was the curfew. Police and military warned citizens that they would arrest anyone loitering in the streets. I did not want the experience of a Crescent city cop car chasing me out of the city. Nor did I want to go to Angola. Mayor Nagin reported at a news conference that anyone still in the streets after nightfall would be arrested and sent to general population in Angola (i.e., the prison).

Writing From a Laptop in North Beach, San Francisco, CA at Café Trieste

Writing this blog post from Café Trieste in North Beach, San Francisco, CA (But I mainly focus on my trip to Oregon, to see Ruy and friends, and that time I went to the Water Lily Festival).
I am posting this blog from lovely San Francisco, CA but the pics are from various and sundry places I have visited thus far so enjoy the unorganized panoply of prose and pics!
My friend Suzanne and Shawndeya know how to string a harp like the angel's on high. The chords made even the sea nymphs and forest fairies come out and sing.
At the Crystal Falls, Sarah told me in her best French, "laissez les bon temps roulez"! She did not want me to tell you guys that she has been trying to act cajun even though she is from the mid west.
This is common wood sorrel that Kevin and I tasted and concluded that its acidic taste is delectable but soon afterward can cause serious stomach churning.
Ahh, here is Ruy, Sarah, and Kevin relaxing at the Falls. AHHHHH. Isn't life sweet?

In San Francisco, early in the morning, the Golden Gate Bridge is veiled in a layer of fog and smog the color of cappuccino.


I drove through Humboldt County's version of the Redwood Forest. I cannot compare it to the actual Redwood National Park, but I was impressed. Man, those trees are ginormous.
This picture was taken on Mount Shasta in California. As I was ascending the mountain in my Toyota Echo I must have seen thousands of these creatures swarming, hitting against my windshield. I felt bad but there were so many of them it was like a love bug cloud you would find in the south but these guys are much more beautiful. By the way, Mount Shasta is gorgeous; some say it has a numinous quality about it that has led to conjectures about its mystical nature. I saw these hikers on the side of the road. They had hiked to the peak of the mountain which is about 12,000 or 13,000 feet up and they needed a ride to their car so I did my numinous duty and drove them back and they then, in turn, gifted me with twenty bucks.
I needed a break so I took off all my clothes and swam in the river. Do you believe that? Hey?! No one was looking but it sure did give new meaning to the phrase, "colder than a witch's tit"!
This young lady introduced me to the art of writing poetry on the back of a bamboo shedding. We went to the Water Lily Festival in Wilsonville, Oregon. It was da bomb.

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