Posted by: facetothewind | April 6, 2006

Scrubbing the Toilet to Rufus

Was just scrubbing scale off the toilet with a lava rock listening to Rufus. The poetic justice is painful and somehow sweet. It made me laugh. Questions of will I ever amount to anything are swarming as I am on my knees at the pocelain in my cashmere sweater. The answer is that I must find peace amounting to nothing before I can amount to anything. I’ve been a bit on a sex binge without fruit. Nothing. No can find. No pude encontrar nada. I sat in the hot tub this afternoon lamenting. Had watched the Rufus documentary with some friends over the weekend. He talked candidly about being on a sex-obsessed quest to fill the void that his father left. He wrote that song Dinner at Eight about his father – ask Max to play for you. SOO touching. Lyrics follow. He was just heartbroken about his father leaving him as a kid. And then he turned bitter. Then he became vengeant. Then he spun out, ended up in rehab and then forgave his father and came to understand that maybe his father did what he could and maybe he really does love him. The song kind of encapsulates my life. And remember what I did with my father in 2004? Brought him down before the whole family. I have forgiven him in my mind. But it did me no good. Now he hands the phone to my mother.

No matter how strong
I’m gonna take you down
With one little stone
I’m gonna break you down
And see what you’re worth
What you’re really worth to me

Dinner at eight was okay
Before the toast full of blames
It was great until those old magazines
Got us started up again
Actually it was probably me again

Why is it so
That I’ve always been the one who must go
That I’ve always been the one told to flee
When it fact you were the one long ago
Actually in the drifting white snow
You left me

So put up your fists and I’ll put up mine
No running away from the scene of the crime
God’s chosen a place
Somewhere near the end of the world
Somewhere near the end of our lives

But ’til then no, Daddy, don’t be surprised
If I wanna see the tears in your eyes
Then I know it had to be long ago
Actually in the drifting white snow
You loved me

No matter how strong
I’m gonna take you down
With one little stone
I’m gonna break you down
And see what you’re worth
What you’re really worth to me


You know I just need someone to hold me – to Daddy me and tell me things are OK and let me spin out – sit on me. And to be there regardless of what I say or do…sweep my skinny bones into a corner of the room until I stop crying. And I almost never, ever get that. Max is perhaps one of the only people in the world who does. It’s very sweet. Funny me telling you this. Not at all intended for any sting. I’m grateful for his generosity. I’m glad he’s older than me. And his humility is charming. I think there’s a bit of Daddying going on. I think I’m realizing that now. I hope he’s OK with it.

I keep thinking that if I achieve more and do more that I’m going to get that love and admiration I’m so desperate for. It’s such a ruse I run on myself. I was not cut out for greatness. Born mediocre and with the beating down I got there’s no way that I can overcome the voices. But I’ve been a high-octane mediocre – burning myself out at times in order to try to appear inspired. I’ve tried to overpower the voices, turning up the volume but it just exhausts me. I don’t think I can overpower them anymore. And now I’ve come to realize that being raw isn’t even appealing at middle age. I should be over it. In our culture we’re supposed to have our shit together and not be driving a broken down car. I wonder where all this will go? Will I once again find something worth fighting for in life? Will the key change from minor to major, Rufus? Or will I just turn and walk away from everything? The chorus reaches fever pitch.

All this while scrubbing the toilet. The cashmere sure feels nice and the toilet is looking mighty spiffy. Switching now to Pink Floyd.




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