Marriage

I was reading something Here from Sarah Doughty atHeartstring Eulogies and, whilst I thought it very nice, it is not a sentiment that I necessarily agree with. Not at this very moment, anyway.

I was reminded of Kurt Vonnegut who (as I recall) suggested to his wife, when everything went belly-up, something to the effect of, “I’m sorry, darling, I just wasn’t enough people for you.”

And so I came across the following which I repeat word for word, without further comment.

I supply it also to provide some contrast with a recent little poem of my own that I posted earlier today.

******

“OK, now let’s have some fun. Let’s talk about sex. Let’s talk about women. Freud said he didn’t know what women wanted. I know what women want. They want a whole lot of people to talk to. What do they want to talk about? They want to talk about everything.

What do men want? They want a lot of pals, and they wish people wouldn’t get so mad at them.

Why are so many people getting divorced today? It’s because most of us don’t have extended families anymore. It used to be that when a man and a woman got married, the bride got a lot more people to talk to about everything. The groom got a lot more pals to tell dumb jokes to.

A few Americans, but very few, still have extended families. The Navahos. The Kennedys.

But most of us, if we get married nowadays, are just one more person for the other person. The groom gets one more pal, but it’s a woman. The woman gets one more person to talk to about everything, but it’s a man.

When a couple has an argument, they may think it’s about money or power or sex, or how to raise the kids, or whatever. What they’re really saying to each other, though, without realizing it, is this:

“You are not enough people!”

I met a man in Nigeria one time, an Ibo who has six hundred relatives he knew quite well. His wife had just had a baby, the best possible news in any extended family.

They were going to take it to meet all its relatives, Ibos of all ages and sizes and shapes. It would even meet other babies, cousins not much older than it was. Everybody who was big enough and steady enough was going to get to hold it, cuddle it, gurgle to it, and say how pretty it was, or handsome.

Wouldn’t you have loved to be that baby?”

The prisoner

I apologise. I hadn’t posted anything for a while and thought it about time and then I saw This at the go-dog cafe and jotted down something quick before realising how corny it was.

And then I added a photo that had no real connection.

So. Sorry. Twice.

******

A prisoner before you stands
You ask no ransom, no demands
Yet give me love I did not earn
Demanding nothing in return
You need no cage, no lock and key
Your captive I will always be

For there is little I can give
To you who are my will to live
There are no riches I can show
No gold or silver to bestow
No castle for my precious queen
No kingdom where you’d reign supreme

Is it enough that I adore
And cannot offer any more
Than this humble wedding ring
To you who are my everything
My every breath, my every thought
Your willing captive. I am caught

Who am I

Come sit with me

Who am I but sad illusion

Self-important self delusion

Self-defensive trickery

Betrayed by bouts of honesty

Who am I but blood and bone

Amongst the crowd, yet all alone

Terrified of self-detection

Retreating from my own reflection

But who am I but what you see

A caricature of what is me

A creature of my own design

A shadow that you see of mine

So who am I but who I am

A simple child, a simple man

I know you see beneath the mask

If not you may feel free to ask