It’s funny that at about the same moment in time Michael and I had very similar thoughts.

He said in a comment to an earlier post:

It is an amazing thing. I’ve recently been inching toward the conclusion, based on my lifetime dating sample, that all human females are clinically insane. (Reasonably enough, I imagine, I’ve also started to wonder if it might something I’m doing that’s making them insane - “Fuchs-Induced Pyschosis” or some such similar contender for the DSM-V.) So I’d decided I’m swearing off for awhile. No dating. No women. No hair-rending. And but here’s the thing: a stunning, slinky, youthful, smooth-skinned, sashaying, silken-haired girl will walk by - and I’m instantly hooked again. Hopelessly captivated. And it occurred to me two nights ago that, If only there were some way to *divorce* that endlessly compelling femininity from that horrific, singular power to make things difficult. (”Ah, women - they make the highs higher and the lows more frequent” - Nietschze) …

Rest your mind Michael. Because all men at all times in history in all places on the planet think all women are insane. Apologies to the women out there, but every man you know and every man you’ve ever known thinks at this moment, or has thought at some point during the time they’ve known you, that you are out of your fucking mind. “My god! She’s completely and utterly insane! Charles Manson makes more sense!” They were so sure of it they were pondering who they should call to get you carted away before you did harm to yourself or someone you know.

This is not to say that men aren’t crazy in their own unique way. Men are fucking nuts too. However, they are nuts in a remarkably predictable way that makes it somehow less…insane. I’ve had conversations with women where they expressed the insanity of other women so women know this. I think they just choose to ignore it because they have no other choice because you can’t live in a world where you’re sure you are insane.

I’m not being purposely provocative. This is a simple observation of male reality that should be out there and widely acknowledged so we can all move on together holding hands and singing happy songs of sexual comraderie.

If someone came up to me in a darkened alley and held a gun to my head demanding an answer to this conundrum, I would guess that the turmoil lies in the deep dark murky history of evolution when male and female separated and then later as women and men developed their own unique niches in human society and the world at large. This doesn’t help at all although understanding is better than mystery.

That said, I had the same thought Michael did a few days ago when I was wandering in Portland and I was thinking about nothing at all related to sex, or women, or a combination of the two. I was thinking about the new digital still camera (Olympus C-7000) and trying to understand how it decides to focus on things. A simple problem of technical understanding.

Then I my little eye spied two incredibly attractive women on a crowded Hawthorne Street and in an instant, my whole being was focussed on them, “hopelessly captivated” as Michael so eloquently put it. It’s like a switch being flipped. The C-7000 focus problem faded away and I was focussed on that hint of breast that shows from the side sometimes on an old weathered t-shirt.

It’s a shame in a lot of ways that so much of our human, our plain old biological, mundane chemical, existence, is wrapped up in the meeting of gonads of two creatures that make absolutely no sense to each other. It’s a shame that such simple things turn our minds into mush and inspire us all the same. It’s a shame and a tragedy and a wondrous when it’s happening and it’s good to need this as much as we need it to be complete. I find this to be a most frustrating thing about being alive (along with aging, those are the top two frustrating things as far as I’m concerned).

[aside: I think most of the "thinkers" of the past understood this too. Monks' lives are filled with negation of that aspect of their lives in a futile attempt to gain power over the power they perceive women to have over them. The irony is that women have the same problem men do in that they find themselves needing men to want them as much as men need women to want them. Of course, this is simple observation and possibly a poor conclusion from that obersvation since I haven't done a rigorous systematic survey.

as an asid to that aside: I wonder if gay people have it easier? Apart from the obvious traditional societal problems, it could be a lot easier being gay. You're already on your own side. No trials, insane baffling trials, trying to figure out what the hell that crazy person over there is trying to say or what they could possible what you to do.]

What is amazing though, to me anyway, is how important that connection to the feminine side of life is for men, the yin and yang chasing each other for all eternity kind of thing.

I say this with perfect understanding and clarity because I was in Portland wandering around at night just kind of loving every minute of being in this place that is filled with a totally different kind of life than Tucson. Surrounded and swimming in a differnt culture and life does not fully exist anywhere else. How cool is that?

Then I stumbled across a little bar in a residential neighborhood that had a vibe that drew me in. I got a beer, Portland is a land of good beer and good coffee, and was sitting there jotting in my notebook when two women sat next to me. Normally I would have just kept jotting lost, in my own world, but I was more in the mood to connect so I chatted with them and when the boyfriend of one showed up we all moved to a table.

Here’s the thing. Waking up in a woman’s bed is infinitely more pleasureable than not that and that’s what I did that next morning. Two single lonely people can connect quite effectively for a short time, revivify each other, and that’s a wonderful magical thing in an of itself.

Which brings me back to Michael and his idle thoughts that were my idle thoughts also. We all so desperately need each other, need to be connected (quite literally and quite figuratively) and we are all absolutely sure other people are insane that even trying to connect sometimes seems like more trouble than it’s worth.

It’s these moments when I think there just might be a god and that he/she/it/them/? is the greatest comedian of all time.

And I type all that while looking at the sexy back of the 18 year old tatooed hippie chick who just started working at Epic in Tucson. If only it would just turn off once in a while…

[note and aside: Michael mentioned above is getting a book published. Check out his website and send him a congratualtory note.

http://www.michaelfuchs.org/life/roam/razorsedge/index.php?story=2005-08-26

It's nice to know real world people who actually try and succeed at doing stuff. Most of the creative types I know in Tucson just talk about it. Which would also include me. And that's silly but it ain't as easy as I had hoped to change the patterns of my life.

So anyway...good show Michael.]