Tribfloof

Tribfloof (floofinition) – Something given or contributed voluntarily to a housepet or animal as due or deserved.

In use: “Every morning, and whenever he came home, his rescue pup came to him for a few minutes of tribfloof, whispered reassurances, petting, and ear and neck scratches to remind the dog that everything was okay, that he had a home and wasn’t abandoned again.”

Thoughts

We saw the light

and thought it was fire,

held in glass

strung by a wire.

We smelled the smoke

and thought it was grass,

we felt lit

and fell on our ass.

We heard a song

and thought it was love,

we tasted tears

and thought it was salt.

We saw the light

but it was too far away.

We said, “Let’s start tomorrow.”

But tomorrow never came.

Together

I lost you,

you found me,

kicking in the door

that I tried to seal.

Dancing on dreams,

living on smoke,

pennies away

from always being broke.

The crystal was fine,

but we drew lines,

toking on what was right,

and what should be denied.

Never agreeing

in sounds too soft to hear,

straining for space

when we tried to get near.

Blinded by lights

that could’ve been love or hate,

we made our way past others,

knowing too much too little

too late.

 

 

Saturday’s Theme Music

I watched the first episode of the third season of Goliath last night. A lovely song, “The Rose”, was used during the episode. That triggered a stream of love songs for me…and, well, I ended up with J. Geils Band’s 1980 hit, “Love Stinks”.

It’s just one of those things, you know?

Straight Shot

You made a straight shot

with your phone

calling me to see

if I was at home

And a straight shot

with a text

got me out of a tiny little mess

I had with my ex

I took a straight shot

from your eyes

the kind of look like donuts

that goes straight to my thighs

The straight shot

from your lips

made me pucker up fast

and get ready for a kiss

Then a straight shot

from your mind

and you know I thought

I had it made

Everything was fine

But a straight shot

from your gun

and just like that, dude,

t’was no more fun

 

Saturday’s Theme Music

I was watching a couple. Twenty-ish white people, they seemed to be going through emotional turmoil. Separated by six feet, they entered the noisy coffee shop. She, a blond, was in the lead with her arms crossed over her belly, casting stoic eyes over the coffee shop population and then the menus on the wall. Taller and darker, he came in behind her with awkward shuffling, moved closer to her, leaned in and spoke. Without answering, she turned, stepped around him, and left. He stood for a moment, staring at nothing as though thinking, and then turned and pursued her.

I watched them through the large front window. They’d come in a new-generation red Camaro convertible. I noticed it as it pulled up, as sunlight flashed off its polish. She didn’t walk toward it, but drifted toward the crosswalk to go across the highway with the same stiff body as before. He watched her, then put his head down and stood for several seconds. As she reached halfway across the road, he went after her, but with a slow pace. Then he looked back at their car, paused in the crosswalk, and continued on after the girl.

I lost sight of them. The red Camaro was still there when my wife and I left. Soft Cell’s 1981 medley of “Tainted Love” and “Where Did Our Love Go” streamed into my thoughts.

 

The Same

Everything felt the same. Hell, it all looked and sounded the same. Likewise, he was going through the same friggin’ routines that defined his life. All of it was very sappy, calling out songs, movies, and novels that spoke about this kind of moment, the moment of pain and realization when someone else, someone who matters, is no longer there.

So he went on, doing his usual shit, but also taking calls, sending and answering emails, making arrangements, listening to sympathy, often secretly crying in his car, bed, bathroom, and kitchen, mourning his loss. Then he went to the services, of course. They were sweet and beautiful, with friends remembering her with tears and laughter. Then, that was done.

After that, life was supposed to resume. Nothing had really changed, except that she wasn’t there. And yet, for all its resemblance for being the same as before, nothing was, or would ever be, the same as before again.

Wednesday’s Theme Music

Lately, I’ve been hearing a lot of “Happier” by Marshmello and Bastille (2018). Naturally, my stream sucked it up. It’s on a loop this morning.

The song’s lyrics, though, contain introspective ideas about what it takes to make relationships succeed, and the nuances. They see that the other can be happier than they are, and think about changing themselves – but only for a moment. That leaves us to infer, they can’t or won’t change, and they know it. That’s why, for the one they love to be happier, they need to go away. Most people lack the strength and wherewithal to go through those levels of thinking. They see the other isn’t happy but are too stuck in their own grooves to do anything. Subsequent drift is inevitable until the final breakup is a trainwreck.

Anyway, my pre-coffee thoughts. You know I can’t go deep without coffee. Barely manage to walk straight without the first cuppa.

Several videos except for this song.

This other video, though…well. Pretty sad to watch.

A Surprising Twist

It seems like a surprising twist, but it probably isn’t. It’s probably one of those oft-experienced, universally known, but rarely mentioned phenomena of life. I will mention it in passing because it strikes me now.

Every night brings something different that I miss from the past. Tonight brings memories of sitting around, listening to music with my friends. I’m listening to some old live Clapton and remembering times and places, but it’s such a solo act.

Yet…this is how it is for most of us. We slip from childhood to our teenage years, to first loves and first jobs, to relationships and marriage, and then find ourselves looking back, remembering, think, and wondering.

I guess it’s not that surprising, or a twist, after all.

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