Tag Archives: happiness

Hey Hey Hey Hey


Hey Hey Hey Hey

Whoa Oh

Ain’t gonna worry today

Oh no

I got too much to smile about

I see you out there in your shorty short shorts

And I just got to work up the nerve to say

Hey Hey Hey Hey

Whoa Oh

I think you just made my day


Hey Hey Hey Hey

The world is shining oh so bright

Makes me want to jump up high with delight

Whatever was wrong

Feels right

I ain’t gonna worry

Hey hey


I wish I could describe this light

If only I could swallow it

I wish that I could bottle it

Hey Hey Hey Hey

Whoa Oh

Here comes the end of this poem

But I could just

keep going

I feel so good

Ain’t gonna worry

Ain’t gonna worry

Ain’t gonna worry

My self


Where Uncertainty Reigns


I should be happy. I have a good job. It’s true I cracked under stress and blew up at my boss, but that got cleaned up, and now I am an even better employee than before. But I worry. Boy! do I ever! I worry about keeping this job and I worry about my health. I worry about how much more time I have left on this dismal Earth. But in spite of all that, happiness often breaks out within my body and my soul and I am happy. For absolutely no reason whatsoever. That is a blessing. But most of the time I fret. I feel tired and there is never enough time. Everything seems fragile, temporary, and quite uncertain. Most of the time I am in that place where uncertainty reigns.

I can’t seem to relax and just let things be. I have to know what lies ahead and be comforted that it will be alright. My anxiety poisons my experience, and I am often not fully present. I dwell in my fevered imagination, where the silence is filled with an indefinite fear. Sometimes I feel pissed off and I am not clear why. It seriously gets in my way at times, and then I get angry because I am angry, and then I feel sad. I feel empty, misunderstood, and unappreciated. This is how it feels in an uncertain world. This is how it feels when you have an apartment but you no longer have a home. I seek a reassurance that cannot be obtained. Of course Jesus loves me, but this fails to comfort me. I feel abandoned by time. I have gone past my date and grown curdled and sour. I need more time, or even better, I need to stop time altogether and give myself an opportunity to catch up with myself. I am too damn old. What happened? Where was I all this time? Daydreaming about my future while failing to notice when that future arrived? Sounds about right.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my life. I am not always filled with anxiety. Sometimes I am comfortable with uncertainty, or even enjoy it. The risk is intoxicating. When everything is going really well I seem to always find a way to fuck it up. I’m sure this sounds quite familiar to many of my readers. But, still…..Those two words are the words that define where uncertainty reigns. Everything is good, I’m happy, but, still…….

I hate how this uncertainty prevents my truly enjoying the time I have left on this exasperating but fascinating planet. I realize some people turn to alcohol or drugs to silence that constant drumbeat of uncertainty. I try to use sex for that purpose but it only emphasizes the emptiness, and how terribly temporary it all is. All is fleeting, and it is up to us to catch a bit of meaning along the way if we can. Some find solace in religion, politics, or a stamp collection, but I can never commit myself fully, because uncertainty reigns in my soul. Nothing is ever enough, nothing feels truly complete. There is the feeling that something is missing, and I will die before I find it. There is that nagging doubt which always insists that whatever the truth is, this ain’t it. A mistake was made, and I am dealing with the consequences. All of us are. We make the best of it. Sometimes I am depressed over all of this, and other times I am filled with joy in spite of all of my attempts to sabotage my magnificence.

I know that I am bigger than all of this. This malignant tumor of a philosophy whose odor taints my perfect knowledge is like a hobby of mine. I use it to hedge my bets, for I am always suspecting that I may be full of shit. Bliss and Bullshit come full circle and become one. It doesn’t really matter in the end. It is what it is, and becomes a perfect whole. In the end I will be struck dumb by delight and disappear into the night.

Uncertainty reigns and that’s alright. The end will arrive before I have even begun. I won’t be prepared, but then, have I ever been prepared? Life seized me and threw into this mess to make of it what I will. Whatever lies ahead I accept. I know absolutely nothing, I am as fresh as the first atom peeking out from nothingness.

Happiness Makes Me Horny


Happiness makes me horny. Should I be ashamed or embarrassed? Should I recognize that there are some things that are not shared in polite company? If I have the right feel for the sort of people that enjoy my blog, I would guess you would respond to such questions with a resounding No!

But many people get funny around sexuality, and I mean funny weird not funny haha. That is because most of us are uncomfortable with sexuality, especially our own. We both enjoy it and don’t. We seek it and censor it. We pretend we don’t indulge in it. Who me? I’m not an animal! I don’t do such things! I am a spiritual being. Of course it does no good to deny sexuality. It rears it’s ugly or beautiful head in spite of our best efforts. The solution lies in how you handle it, if you will pardon the expression.

But have you noticed how you are rarely if ever horny when you are depressed? No. Horniness rides the wave of joy. Sex is about happiness. When things are going well abstinence loses it’s appeal. You want to partake of all the physical pleasures while you still can. But because horniness makes a lot of people very nervous, you don’t share your newfound enthusiasm for the carnal knowledge. You keep it clean, and tell everyone that your happiness has renewed your avid interest in stamp collecting. You learn to keep your funkiness to yourself. Personally I think this is stupid. Actually it is worse than stupid. The denial and suppression of sexuality leads to perversion and ultimately violence. Strange things grow in the dark, which is why I would like to bring sex into the light.

The misguided way we think about sex and the even more misguided way we actually behave sexually has led to many tragedies. I would love to help bring this horrible trend, centuries in the making, to a stop. Happiness makes me horny, but it also makes me think about my horniness. I resent the shame which accompanies horniness. It is a perversion of sexuality. You see, perversion is all about hating yourself. Shame is self-hatred. Perversion thrives on shame. The more ashamed you are the more likely you are to reinforce that shame with still more shame, until it is the shame that turns you on. That is when you realize you have taken a stroll down a very dark and dingy street. It is hard to make your way back, when the culture in which you are immersed reinforces this vicious cycle. When you reach a point in which unhappiness makes you horny, you are in sad shape indeed.

I don’t pretend to know the answers to this dilemma. I do know the costs of allowing it to continue. Rape. Murder. Child Molestation. Lives ruined because of misguided sexuality. What family exists that does not have at least one shameful secret lingering around in the closet somewhere? Sex mishandled breeds monsters. What to do? Well let’s talk about it for starters. Let’s bring it into the light. When I look out at the world and see the consequences of our sex-obsessed yet sex-denied culture, in which we are encouraged to be sexual only to be stigmatized by it, it seems hopeless, and I feel really depressed. You want to talk about nasty? Our culture is nasty, and not in the way you may think. Nasty in it’s approach/avoidance insanity surrounding sexuality.

The ideas I have are outrageous. They are so outrageous I have to disguise them as satire. That is because I believe we really need to rethink and refeel how we approach sexuality. The cost is too great for us to continue down the same old road. We need to learn to celebrate sexuality and that means celebrating all of it. We need to find joy in our bodies, however they may be. Shame is not allowed. Shame lies in intent. It is not an inherent part of sexuality. Celebrating your body and other’s bodies and the wonderful way sex makes all of us feel when it is not ruined by our culture, is an urgent need. I can see that I have gotten far too serious for what was intended as a fun, tongue-in-cheek post. But the truth is, I cannot just smirk and shove the ugly truth about sexuality under the proverbial rug any longer. The ugly truth is that our view of sex is so distorted that it is criminal, and it is destroying our delight in just being alive. Sex lies at the heart of being alive. It is what brought us into being, and should be one of our highest priorities. You know what? I don’t feel horny any more. This post has brought me down. Satisfied? Now all I want to know about are the specials at Safeway. I can get mixed vegetables two for one? Excellent. Can’t get too many veggies!

Sex? I am way too old for that. Sex is for young people. Good looking people. Old people read good books and take their dogs for a walk. I watch all the stupid ads just like you do. I know what old people do with their lives. But I suspect that later, when I feel another surge of happiness, I will be horny again. I look forward to that. Horniness is a good thing. It is all in how you handle it, you see.

Monday the 13th


Rain in San Francisco

Happiness comes uninvited. I hadn’t planned on being happy today. Yesterday I was in the pits. Today is the inverse of Friday the 13th. I got up to rain, which led to a downpour in the afternoon. I sat inside and blogged. I felt wistful, but not particularly happy. At about 4:10 pm, I left the apartment and went to the library, and something unbidden came over me. I felt an incredible peace come over me. Time appeared to slow down a bit, and I could see things clearly. The dread which has been my companion for so long, lifted. There was a golden sunset flooding the sides of the buildings as I left the library and headed home. I felt happy for absolutely no reason whatsoever. I cannot account for it.

Unfortunately such feelings don’t pay the rent, but during this time I ran into someone who lives in my building who offered to help in a small way if I needed it. It confirmed my feeling that life is basically good. I am sure many horrible things were taking place during this epiphany. People were being hurt, some dying, but in my particular skull silent contentment reigned. Perhaps I am bipolar, my emotions swinging from one extreme to another. But not really. I am usually mildly optimistic, not contented, but also not suicidal. Sometimes I do get depressed and angry, but I think that is due to circumstances. I am unemployed and unable to pay next month’s rent. I have had these peaceful moments before. In those times your senses undergo a transformation. Everything takes on a precious quality. You become aware that life is a very fragile, extraordinary thing which is here briefly, then gone. Maybe this was the flip side of the meditation upon death I had the day before. Possibly, the emotional stress I had been going through caused my mind to become silent, allowing this experience to occur.

I have posted about this stuff before, but it bears repeating. Times like this reveal a possibility which usually escapes my attention. Everything can be beautiful. Actually beautiful isn’t the right word. Because it is not an aesthetic judgement, it is an appreciation of the “isness” of everything, fragile in this moment, not to be repeated.

Only people who have had this sort of experience will get anything out of this post. I am sure it feels like a bunch of metaphysical new age nonsense to many others. But maybe not, I hope this contributes to you. It shows that such epiphanies are possible. You don’t try to be happy, it just happens without rhyme or reason.

This is the kind of light I saw

What Me Worry?


Remember Alfred E. Newman? The guy on the cover of Mad magazine that looks like Ted Koppel? He was one of my childhood heroes. Nothing fazed him, nothing was sacred to him. Of course he was a moron, but still… I worry too damn much. It is like a radio which plays inside my head morning, noon, and night. And it is always the same songs. “Will I keep my job?” “Will my health hold up?” “Will my eyesight get worse?” “Will I ever get laid?” “Will I ever receive any comments on my blog?” Actually I’ve given up on the last two. Those things don’t happen in the real world. Worry pours a dirty gloss over all of our experience, spoiling it. I hate worry. Of course, as I pointed out in an earlier post, you get what you resist. So I may as well embrace it. Savor it. All the subtle flavors of worry. Should I eat this? What does that person think about me? blah blah blah. And when you project this onto the international scene, well, this introduces a whole new level of worry, doesn’t it? I just know something dreadful will happen, and actually a part of me yearns for something, not necessarily dreadful, but something big and powerful to happen. Something awe-inspiring, so we can stop talking about Newt Gingrich, and go on to something truly important. That idiot, excuse me ‘historian’, will not be nominated or elected. That is actually one thing I don’t worry about. I wish the Occupy movement would get it’s shit together, and I also wish Wikileaks would get it’s shit together as well. That thing where they hacked into a security company and used customer’s credit cards to donate money to charities was a bonehead move. While it seems really cool at first, you realize that that only causes problems for the charities. Because you know those yuppies are going to insist on a chargeback for every penny. So, I just worry that some well-meaning anarchist will get hands on an atomic bomb and decide to wipe out New York City, or LA. He may think we would all be better off without those cities, but that is just not a good idea. Ok, guys? But there are guys out there who I think would do that if they had the bomb and the opportunity. But I don’t really worry about that stuff, or any of the end of the world nonsense. I know that I will be facing my own personal end of the world before long, and that is the apocalypse that worries me. I realize it makes no sense. Actually no worry makes sense when you examine it logically. But examining things logically never seems to help when it comes to emotions. But think about it, if you survive death, you could discover that it is better than this is, you might think “Oh Yeah! I remember this place! I hope all my stuff is still where I left it.” or maybe you can review the life you just left just like rewinding a tape, and can relive certain parts so you can do something differently and see how that would have turned out, or maybe it just sucks like this life, if so you got through this one. so….., or maybe there is nothing, or worse yet, Bill Maher is standing there telling you “You see! It’s just like I said. Nothing!”. But if it is nothing, then quid pro quo. you aren’t there either, so you can’t be pissed off about it. OMG I don’t exist! Wait a minute…. These are the things that sometimes go through my head during the down times in my life. Waiting in line at the supermarket, walking to work, waiting for my vegetables to come to a boil. I worry about death. And then I think about Woody Allen and I smile. I worry about death a lot, and about winning the lottery. But when I am on the toilet, I think about Vladimir Putin, I’m not sure why. I’m starting to worry that this post is too long and I’m boring you. Of course, the ‘you’ is probably myself. Hopefully, other people are reading this. If so, leave a comment, damn it! If only to say “You’re not alone.” but don’t include an emoticon. I hate those damn things!

I will leave you with one of the most obnoxious songs of all time. I can remember when “Don’t Worry Be Happy” came out and how almost everyone hated it. And yet the song was a huge hit, so I think a lot of these people secretly loved the song. People who worry a lot tend to hate this song. It is one that you should only listen to when you are feeling happy, unless of course you just want to torture yourself.

Christmas morning


Woke up with my cat beside me, eager to get on with….something. Oh Yeah! It’s Christmas morning. Why aren’t I happy? Never mind. You gotta let happiness creep on you, rarely there on demand. Besides my expectations for Christmas morning are too high, that’s a lot to ask for a holiday. Let’s give Christmas morning a break, and let it be what it is. I typed Christmas into the search field of iTunes, so I’d get nothing but those tunes. Not a good idea! You don’t realize how insipid most Christmas music is until you hear nothing but Christmas music for two hours. Better to hear it occasionally. Sorry to be a Christmas buzz kill, but there is so much hype over it, that by the time the day arrives you are ready to move on. But I had a few nice Christmas moments. I strongly recommend “the Christmas Song” as sung by Doris Day and the Les Brown orchestra, recorded back in the Forties. Because I had never heard that version it sounded fresh. Very nice arrangement, and Doris Day is a surprisingly good singer. Everybody knows the Nat King Cole version, so it was nice to hear a different arrangement. But here I am with my cat, no where to go, nothing much to do. The guy above me had his friend over with the dog, so that was really loud. Nothing really changes, especially on Christmas day. It is kind of a rest stop before we resume our journey. Now what? Eat some more? Why not. It’s Christmas!