Piece of Mind

A friend, M, emailed me the following new year's credo:

"Peace of mind is better than piece of ass."

To which I replied, "but both in congress!" (Okay, I didn't really use the word "congress", but it's a nifty word, particularly in this context... not to mention a somewhat ironical subtext, now that I think of it. But, I obfuscate...)

(Did I mention that I am listening to Utah Phillips while writing this? Its interesting, really, to surf on the wash of his words while trying to maintain some semblance of my own literary identity.)

So I was talking with M, the sender of the thing. We'd just come out of the Bikini Lounge, a nice little hole in the wall joint (the bartender there a deliciously malicious little bruja of a woman, thick and squatty, with a raspy Janice Joplin voice) and M and I we're talking in the parking lot.

I was saying how I was becoming less and less involved in my own life - but in a good way - how I'd learned to simply get out of the way, remove myself from the equation and just let things happen.

She chimed in and we talked about all the different ways you can get out of or into your own way.

Sex can be like that. Or shooting a basketball. Or even dying, really.

Not so long ago I believed all deaths, in particular my own, were tragic, and, if possible, to be avoided. However, after practising enough "getting out of my own way" in day-to-day life, I've finally come to believe in my own non-existence.

So instead of "just do it!" I say, "just let it happen." (Yes, this sounds trite, but just go with it for now... hey! "go with it!" maybe that's the saying. Anyway...)

Of course the same can be said of relationships. But to combine "peace of mind" and "piece of ass" - now that truly is the sounds of one hand clapping!