March 11, 2015

Godfrey, dude, I dreamt I literally lost my marbles last night. Had 'em in some sort of cloth bag which slipped open somehow and down, down, down to the floor they went, cascading, bouncing, rolling away, ferreting themselves under refrigerators, counters, kitchen cabinets. The trouble was that in my dream I knew I was also figuratively losing my marbles; even as I wondered about the origins of the expression, I felt myself slipping free of reason's bonds. I felt like I knew this was a dream, but that in real life, this was starting to happen, too, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it and that soon I wouldn't know enough to care to want to. It was scary as shit, Godfrey.

Whenever I wake from a dream like this, Godfrey, I just tell myself to think of what's in store for me the way that Julie told me one morning last Fall -- a long, gentle descent to old age cushioned by her loving embrace, and the fact that I don't want to go down is almost immaterial at that point because really what does it matter anyway? I remember what we used to tell our kids when they were little: You get what you get and you don't throw a fit. Except that I didn't think I would have use of such dismissive wisdom again in dealing with my own (real or imagined) decline. So what do you say, Godfrey, am I being mistreated by The Boss or is such suffering to be expected? Sit down and shut up, or stand up and cry?

"Well now, that's a good one, my boy. Are you being mistreated by the universe? I'd tell you to ask Job that one, but that's likely a step too harsh even for me, and I can be notoriously stern, or so I'm told. No, I think you deserve to be taken on your own terms as opposed to the leveling effect of all that getting and not throwing a fitting. And in that light, I would say it's pretty clear you're being treated unfairly.

"Feel better now? I thought not. Because you can see just as clearly as I that 'You're being treated unfairly' and $1.87 will get you a tall coffee in any Starbucks in the land. Which is to say that while this sentiment may be warm, loving, and even true, it is ultimately meaningless, at least insofar as changing your fate goes, though that may actually be of secondary importance to you to the feeling of sympathy you apparently need.

"So, with all that in mind, sure, stand up and cry. Write a diary of your decline and title an entry "Stand Up And Cry." It won't help anything, but I don't think it will hurt, either. I'd cry if I were you, and I'm dead. But then, my job is to help you through this painful passage, so I may be prejudiced in your favor. Bottom line is that just like Rip Torn says to Albert Brooks in Defending Your Life, I got a lot of faith in you, kid, and with you, that faith extends to trusting you know when to stand up and cry and when to sit down and shut up."

What can I say to that? An endorsement that not only lets me have my feelings but does so while name-checking Albert Brooks no less. From a guardian angel who has the form of William Powell. You have heard the expression "Take the money and run," I'm sure. Well ... See ya!