Sentimental Precipitation 2

It has stopped raining after an entire day of wet sobriety. The street outside is still wet and people continue to wear their jackets and tracksuits. I somehow enjoyed today's rain -- enjoyed in a sober, lucid and boring sort of way. It' okay, I guess. There'll be more fun rains to come.

No more rain for now.

The only things that' are precipitating right now -- apart from my sentiments -- are the tar and carbon monoxide in those little sacs inside my lungs (I think they call it alveoli. Rainy days make you smoke a lot more apparently.

Anyway, what made me write about corny, mushy stuff today were two couples that I saw walking in the rain earlier.

The first were pretty young, college student types. They didn't look particularly attractive (or intelligent) but they caught my attention because they appeared to be quite affectionate with each other. It was drizzling/raining (somewhere in between) and the guy held his hand palm-down on top of the girl's head. It was more a gesture than a protective act. She smiled in appreciation when he did this and he hugged her close as if to say "I got you covered babe".

The second couple was older, around fifty or so. They looked like market vendors, perhaps because they were carrying bayongs. There was really nothing special about them except that they were very quiet, much like a couple usually is after a fight. They did not look angry though, just serious. Then the man suddenly held the bayong being carried by her wife, and she let go of it without saying a word. The man was being chivalrous in a very unromantic context. It felt like something he needed to do, like it was his responsibility.

Which what love really is supposed to be -- a responsibility.

Just like I could spot a drug addict or a closet queen effortlessly, I know love when I see it. And I saw it in the older couple. It was a stripped-down, worn out, no bullshit type of love. It needed no words or smiles or gestures. It was rootd in the knowledge that one person loves the other to death. No fancy lines. No sugarcoating. Simple. Perfect.

How we wish we could feel that for ourselves. Not me. No love for The Stellar Muser just yet. I don't smell it in the air. I don't feel it pumping in my veins. I don't hear its music in my ears. Nothing.

Hopefully things change by Sentimental Precipitation 3.

Peace.

PS. Sleep well you...

Sentimental Precipitation

It's a lazy rainy afternoon. I use to like rain, in fact I still do, but there's something about today's rain that's different. I don't know. It's weird.

Perhaps it's the fact that I can't afford to be lazy, as I have very important things to do (yes, even more important than being lazy). Or that I'm nowhere near where I want to be. Or that I hardly even know where it is I really want to be.

You all know how hard it is to be confused and helpless because of lack of information. We need certain knowledge to work with in order to arrive at well-informed decisions. That I have no problem with. It's very easy for me, as with most people I know, to use my mind to sort my way out of a mess. But sometimes, the situation calls for something more than that. I take back what I wrote a few emtries back -- sometimes you just can't afford to be rational.

I grapple with this problem the way I reflect on whether I would go to class or not on a non-exam day. On the one hand, the decision seems like a no-brainer -- of course I won't! On the other hand, I'm scared of the unforseen consequences.

I guess there are just things in life that we cannot be certain of. Spontaneity is one of the things that make life worthwhile.

But, as with cutting class, you don't have much choice but to trust in your instincts. Even if it has failed you many times in the past.

Peace.

PS.

Wherever you are.. Whoever you are.. I want to be there. With you. Enjoying the rain.

Sleep well everyone.

Hallelujah

This Hebrew exultation, which literally means "Praise the Lord", has come to take on a different but related meaning -- the most joyous form of praise to the Lord.

This implies that the act of praising should be an enjoyable experience. An ultimately selfish process. It is all about you.

I am an agnostic. I'm not even supposed to be writing about these things. But I have realized that the positive effects of praise -- in whatever form -- cannot be denied.

Jeff Buckley's take on this word, and the concept that it encapsulates, sums up all the emotions and thoughts that go with the pleasures of worship. Listen to the song (search it up) for the complete experience... Here are the words to the song:

- - - - -
(Words by Leonard Cohen)

Well I heard there was a secret chord
That David played and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
Well it goes like this:The fourth, the fifth, the minor fall, and the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah

Hallelujah

Well your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
And she tied you to her kitchen chair
She broke your throne, she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

Hallelujah

Well baby I've been here before
I've seen this room, and I've walked this floor,
I used to live alone before I knew you
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
But love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah

Well there was a time when you let me know
What's really going on below
But now you never show that to me, do you?
But remember when I moved in you
And the holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah

Hallelujah

Well maybe there´s a God above
But all I've ever learned from love
Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you
And it's not a cry that you hear at night
And it's not somebody who's seen the light
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah Hallelujah
- - - - -

Now where's the praise in that?

Peace.

On Gambling

"It's not as easy as willing it all to be right"

I stole that line from a Snow Patrol song.

So what does Snow Patrol have to do with gambling, you ask. I don't know.

Seriously, hear me out.

Fyodor Dostoyevsky, considered by many to be the greatest novelist of all time (yes folks, it's not Dan Brown), aptly called one of his masterpieces "The Gambler". A chronic gambler himself (this habit lead to his ruin), Dostoyevsky theorized that "a gentleman's chances at the roulette or the card table is commensurate to his will to win". Now I know it's very difficult to take that from a man who didn't win very often, but you gotta give it to my man Fyodor for making some sense.

I was watching poker on TV last night and therew were three guys left on the table when I tuned in: TJ Coultier, the winningest poker player of all time; Paul Philips, a brash young hotshot dot-commer; and Mel Judah, an unassuming hairdresser from Australia (yes I know, he's not gay). The round that I turned on, TJ Coultier just took a big pot and the chip lead from Paul Philips on a stone-cold bluff. Philips, of course was disgusted. Meanwhile Judah, the hairdresser, being shortstacked, was just sort of sleeping and waiting for the right hand and moment to get in the action. Philips was first to act the following round and raised a hundred grand on an king-jack suited. Judah, went all in with a big slick, putting Philips in a trap. Not wanting to risk it, Philips folded. In the next round, Philips was dealt a pocket-sevens (a good hand by many standards) and raised a sizable amount (enough to draw the other players). Judah folded already and Coultier drew a pair-of-jacks. He re-raised Philips, and learning from the other round, Philips quickly called this time. He lost. The look on his face was priceless.

Paul Philips lost control of his game. He lost his focus and concentration. And with all these, he lost his will to win.

Of course poker, like most of gambling, requires as much luck as it does skill. People will tell you differently but you will see for yourself that there are good players, lucky players, and players who seem to have sold their soul to the poker gods for the benefits of both technique and coincidence.These are the guys you see on TV.

But more important than these two is the will as described by Dostoyevsky. The intense desire to be the master of both effort and fate. Ask Michael Jordan. Ask Tiger Woods. Ask Paul Philips. The moment I saw the cringe/grimace/wince (it's very hard to describe, trust me) on Paul Philips' face I knew what my man Fyodor was talikng about.

Will it - and watch the chips pour in.

Peace.

The Only Way...

There are lots of people who refuse to accept this, but I strongly believe that it is only through intelligent interaction that we can find any hope of making sense of our lives and this world we live in.

And by intelligent I don't mean 170-point IQs. What's important is that we think about what we say and do; before, during and after.

And when we think, it doesn't mean that we don't feel. It's not a zero-sum game. A careless disregard for emotions is the worst thing that an intelligent person can do.

I believe in the use of reason in trying to arrive at the truth, and emotions when appreciating the fact that you've gotten there.

But truth has become a highly subjective concept. And it should be. We all see the world in different ways, and interpret it even more differently. So it seems that truth is not just one place that we can all go to... it's everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

This is not about proving how better we are than others at certain things. That is just plain bull. The idea is to hear each other out, and take what we can from what other people have to give.

Remember, truth is not so much about knowing than it is about understanding. Understand before you know, know before you believe, believe before you explain.

I certainly hope you don't get turned off by the intellectual pretensions. In plain speak, let's just be shitting each other.

Peace.

Finally!

And so I finally decide to do this. I guess the idea is to have a means of letting people hear me out. Of course, that comes with the assumption that people would want to. And if they do, what do I tell them? That, my friends, is something that we prefer not to reveal... yet.

What the fuck am I saying? Here's the thing, ok? I write stuff, you comment, I comment back, and so on and shit. Hopefully, our extended interaction will result in something more meaningful than having-coffee-while-staring-out-the-window-when-it's-raining or wearing-shades-when-your-inside-the-mall (please don't do that so we can stay friends) or eating-pasta-with-rice-while-using-a-spoon (carbo + carbo + wrong utensil = idiot!).

I guess you pretty much get what I mean.

Try to make your comments as cool and frequent as possible.

Peace.