Intimate: The Real Bastard Blues

My heart was racing and I collapsed.  I was laying there on the bed..... short of breath.... feeling self-conscious.  Hurt.  Fat.....  with self-pity. 

She stood and stepped into the restroom.  I saw her curved silhouette in the doorway before the door was closed.  It didn't belong to me anymore.  Her silhouette.  She was here...  with me.  But it felt like she was gone.  Left now.  Through the bathroom window and out into the world.....  with someone else.        

I was trying to forgive her again.  This is how it goes.  It's continuous.  I was trying to say one F word.  And I was trying hard not to say the other.  This is what you're left with once it's broken in the heart.  

My bed felt dirty.  Unclean.  

It's near Christmas time, and Christmas had always mattered to me.  The magic as a kid.  The story.  But now it was different.  I was lying there remembering the profanity of the story now.  Namely, that he was going to be a bastard.  That's what life was dealing him.  He was gonna be a bastard like me...  

(literally...  I was  Adopted.  But first born to a young girl- unmarried.  That was at the end of a time when the world still disdained people like me).       

I always loved him for that.  I don't mean worshiped in the high Holy sense... (although I've done that).  I mean loved.  With fondness.  Affection.  A kinship.  Like maybe when I looked out into the chaos of what life can be sometimes, that I wasn't alone.  Because he was gonna be a bastard like me.  We were both bastard sons together.      

But there were differences.  The world was a blues-song maker.  To that there was no doubt.  And as I imagined the little bastard boy in the manger, I was fully aware of the differences between the two of us.  I was the real Bastard.  Some of the blues of the world was a result of my own choosing.  Songs written from sins of a time I had demanded it all my way.  Refusing to play well with others and making Senatorial like decisions... Judgements....  about things and people I didn't understand.

Songs about living every day roaming the world profane, like an angry blues man...  A guitar playing Cain.  Angry.  And Hurt.  Fighting mad and consuming everything and anything like an industrialized unholy Hell.    

And now?........ Wallowing in it.  Content to just lay there like a pig.  Pitiful, on the temple grounds of the dirty bed that was my world.           

She came out from the bathroom and lay beside me.  Her skin still felt warm.  You know I love you she said.....  I didn't look at her.  

But do YOU love me?  I asked in silence.  

I wasn't talking to her.  It was the child I was talking to.  The would-be bastard son in the manger.  The lover of those who are profane.  

Do you love me I asked, and then I just lay there naked beside her.  The two of us.  Adam and Eve, profane; the both of us, on our dirty bed.  And I let my heart break itself wide open again in tears before I slept and dreamt.  And longed for a world I remembered that was once so much better than this.  Can there ever be a world that's better than this?    

Beating the Blues by Eating Doughnuts

In keeping with my plan of becoming Jewish (Festivus not withstanding), and considering the holiday season, I was reading a little about Hanukkah.  One thing I didn't realize until recently is that Jesus celebrated Hanukkah (and why not?........ he was jewish).  Nor did I realize what it was all about.

The short version goes something like this:  This dude named Antiochus Epiphanes was giving the nation of Isreal the blues, conquering, raping, pillaging, and taxing as old world (and new world) dictators tend to do.  And then a faction of Isreali soldiers were able to retake the land and Jerusalem.  After restoring the Temple they began the ritual of purification and rededication (the hebrew word for dedication is.... Hanukkah).  And after a dude found a flask of oil (olive oil.... extra virgin Im assuming) they began lighting the lamps.  The problem was that the flask that was found had only a days worth of oil in it and the ritual was to last eight days.  The miracle of Hannukah (also called the Festival of Lights) is that with one days worth of oil the Temple was rededicated for the entire eight days. 

So now Jews light eight candles, sing hymns, give presents, and eat a lot of deep fried fatty foods cooked in olive oil (doughnuts: Yiddish: פאנטשקעס pontshkes), fritters (bimuelos) potato cakes: (latkes........sounds like the perfect holiday to me). 

That said, Im intriuged at the way Judaism incorporates reminders of the goodness of life into the daily blues of the wourld.  I came across this article in a book I was reading by this Jewish dude talking about Jewish Holidays.  Check out what he had to say...

"There is a story (undoubetedly apocryphal) about a Jew who attended one of Hitler's Munich rallies at the start of the Nazi coup.  While Hitler ranted, cursing the jews, he became confused by a man in the first row who was laughing in derision at the fuehrer.  When the speech was over, Hitler's men detained the heckler and brought him to Hitler, who asked the man who he was. 

I am a Jew, he said proudly. 

Dont you believe that I will carry out my threats to destroy all Jews?  This is not a laughing matter, said Hitler.

You are not the first ruler who sought to destory us, said the Jew. Once Pharoah wanted us slain and now every year at Passover we eat matzahs (unleavened bread).  Later Haman tried to annihilate us; now each year (during Purim) we eat the delicious hamantaschen (pastry).  I couldn't help laughing, Herr Hitler, while I listened to your ranting.  I was wondering what delicacy we will eat and what holiday we will celebrate to commemorate your downfall."
(Isreals Holy Days, Daniel Fuchs pg 85).