Reaching Out.

On Grafton Street in November
We tripped lightly along the ledge
Of a deep ravine where can be seen
The worth of passion's pledge
The Queen of Hearts still making tarts
And I not making hay
Oh I loved too much and by such by such
Is happiness thrown away

From Raglan Road

Look, we're all reaching out. We wrestle our demons--even Christ fought demons. We reach, and we pray or dream or hope we may find a hand that reaches back. Is it an angel or ghost or a lover who reaches back? Is it a touch, a new computer, lovemaking, too much stuff, or a new tattoo that fills the need? We seek to fill the emptiness. To fill the void. To feel connected.

 I struggle to feel connection. Perhaps it was my upbringing that made me so. But we all struggle. Life is a struggle. And we persevere. We wrestle our demons. Sincerely, I wish I had an answer. For some it is prayer. It could be perverted and it may be hate that drives us. Self-righteousness is a curse. How can we be sure what is the way? I will chance a theory that the very act of prayer or hope is a struggle with the real value of prayer or hope. Is one prayer enough? Can one hope too much? God are you listening or are you busy making sure the Red Sox win the game today?

So we reach out or up or down hoping to find the hand of kindness. One touch that fills one's very soul. Often we end up dressing our dogs in little outfits, or seeking the one vision of sex that suffices for the lack of touch. Music might fill us. The written word might. I suggest that singing, or playing an instrument, and writing may fill the void. Talk might fill the emptiness, but is it talk on the Net? The unseen friend is the easiest. No touch. Words of love perhaps or all the empty spaces between the words, those invisible nods and smiles and LOL of our imaginations. It is incredibly easy to care for those who do not whine, burp, or scratch their asses.

The Net is so incredible, but instead of making us closer, it distances us. It's full of cute puppies and homilies. Who wants to read someone's post about how they hurt? It takes too long. It's not LOL. I want to see your babies, some hot actress, or a double-entendre. No diapers--no tongue-tied stupidity should pass my lips in the presence of Jennifer Garner--I get it, put something between us. Put anything between us but please not real feeling.

I make no denial that I want my 15 minutes, but on my terms. Perhaps in Heaven or Hell I will receive them. I wish I could make a difference. I really do. But I fear no one is listening. LOL.

I said LOL. Hello?