The Write Thing

Would it be too irrational to say there are people who fear facts and people who fear feelings? Oh, I know…you would say that feelings are also facts, but that is where I think you go wrong. Feelings are not facts. Feelings change. They evolve, revolve, and sometimes even falter. They grow stronger, weaker…they fade. They confuse, dazzle, hurt, relieve…but all the time they are incapable of stasis.

Instead, facts do not change. They are. Intransitive verb, period. A chasm, a void, uncertainty towering because there is no exit. Facts are cruel and irreversible. Disease is a fact, love is not. Disease is a limitation with an outcome that eventually will be another fact, but love is not. Love is free as a concept, yet a prisoner of its cradle. It grows, and it fades, layers of its skin spread on a spurious surface, a requirement of blind faith for those who choose to indulge.

Yet I am more afraid of facts than emotions. You cannot fight facts, but you can fight emotions, and many people do. Or maybe you can fight facts, but most of the time the victory or defeat will be external to you, and already a given. Yet, many of us mistake emotions with facts and refuse to fight, expecting loss as a token…naive souls…loss is part of every game we play

Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch’entrate

I am leaving all hope behind me, and here I am…crossing the door.

Time is relative, I have observed. I know, there is a calendar to abide by, a given set of numbers that decide how long a year, a month or a day is. Yet, time is relative. It is relative to what we have and what we lack, to our plans and our pitfalls. Our life, as it unfolds, sets the pace of time — and sometimes lets us become aware of its power.

A week ago, we were having fun together, playing pool as if we knew the rules at Houston’s Chances bar. A week ago, you were Texan and I was British, and we laughed over a few drinks as we mixed up our accents while we dared each other across the table. A week ago, Saturday morning would bring the garbage pick-up trucks early on and we would leave our bed to have coffee together in the balcony. A week ago, we would make love and nothing would matter…or everything would. A week ago, time was a clock that set an arrhythmic pace, a city of urban bohemia in the summer heat, a ride to Central Market, a granita and an iced coffee at the Empire Cafe, a failed Cajun restaurant, a disruptive conversation of unknown impact. A week ago, we were whole, and time passed.

After you left the apartment a few days later and I closed the door behind your inaudible sigh, the mourning clock began to tick. Your absence filled each room as much as your presence had, only minutes before. I endeavored to change my routine to no avail. Eventually there would be something that, had you been there, would have been natural, would have felt right. But you were gone, and this time I feared an indefinite abyss. The emptiness of you felt stronger, perhaps because this house was ours for some days even while it was not, both of us being strangers in foreign land.

With you gone, I had nothing to cling to, only impersonal crooked pictures and faded comfort colors that would lull me to sleep until you called from a remote airport, enslaved by your own withdrawal of us. As I woke up to set the coffee brewing before my shower the next morning, or even as I returned home at the end of my workday, time was always relative. It was relative to its forceful repetition of itself without you…it was relative to you.

After extensive pondering on the issue, I have come to the conclusion that dogs are better off than man. Hence, I would seriously suggest that the whole association of a “dog’s life” to a life of suffering and pain should be revised, if not altogether discontinued. Although research should be further pursued in this matter, I believe I am in a comfortable position to say that dogs in most cases have a much better life than man in today’s world.

But why am I saying this? Well, since the world changes in subtle ways, I must confess it took me a while to realize that the order of things was indeed being altered. Quite a few years ago, I would have definitely thought that dogs were sometimes very poor creatures misunderstood by their masters and in some cases exposed to the worst of mankind. Some of them still are, but the same could be said of man. Is a dog, for example, worse off than a homeless child?

However, I do not only think in extremes. In fact, I can simply think of how we travel in today’s world to realize that dogs can travel more easily than human beings. First of all, in today’s post-2001 world, traveling everywhere requires an inordinate amount of paperwork for the average homo erectus. Think of the required health insurance, passport, visa, statements declaring that you have no intention to overextend your stay and that there are sufficient funds on your bank account to finance your orgies in foreign lands. Now, what is requested of a dog if he wants to cross the Schengen’s frontier or simply be granted permanent residence in the US? Vaccines, and perhaps a couple of bureaucratic forms. Probably there will be no record of his digital paw prints, and he will not have to answer uncomfortable questions from immigration officials. Mind you…that dog will have easier access into foreign land than you ever will…and he will be able to stay forever.

Now, let’s go to the most interesting part of the analysis…the lesbian component. I think that lesbians in general are more likely to have a long-term relationship with their dogs than with a potential partner. Several factors here should be considered. First, dogs have a short life by human standards, which simplifies things…and, of course, it is always easier and more glamorous to remember a dead loved one than a living one. Second, dogs tend to be more accommodating to anything their owner would want, which saves you the hassle of typical marital arguments — of course, because dogs don’t speak.

In conclusion, provided that you can put up with the occasional barking, some questioning of your dominance, and the routine of a couple of daily walks, you should definitely fall in love with a dog. Mind you, I have fallen in love with a human being residing thousands of miles away, and getting anywhere near each other is laborious, so I really know what I am talking about. My dear friend, get yourself a dog now…it is not too late