22 February, 2013

You Are A Cafe Marron

presented by
Mystic Metals Body Jewelry

You Are A Cafe Marron

The Big Four of Thrash should have been the Big Five with Sepultura. How was that missed? What an awesome band. I remember the first time I heard the record Arise as a teen. There was no going back after that. I was metal forever. My Nirvana and Alice In Chains records took a break for a while as I found SLAYER and Pantera and Fear Factory. But it started with Sepultura, and that is who I'm listening to right now. I'm resisting the urge to grab a stranger and scream, "BORN STUBBORN!" into his face. No promises I can maintain that resistance.

Speaking of super angry music, and being super angry in general, I have been super angry for quite a while now. Quite a while actually means all of the nearly thirty-three years I've been alive. Anger is an odd thing. It is also one of my beauty eroding qualities. We all have them, some of us have a few more than others do, but we each have at least one thing that sets us back in our view of our own beauty. If I were a good writer, I'd put some sort of clever name to it, but I'm not a good writer, so you'll have to deal with that.

Part of my goal in this blog is to get my readers to enjoy and recognize their own beauty. In my attempts to do so, I think it is important for me to tell you about my beauty shortcomings. Beauty shortcomings. Nah, I don't like that. I think it is vitally important to realize what holes are in the boat before succumbing to sinking because most of them can be plugged, and the boat can continue on. So as an example, I'll tell you about one of my beauty thieves. Beauty thief. Meh, that's not bad.

Anger. Sometimes people don't understand when I say anger because anger is a common emotion. Especially if you live in Jersey. You'll probably be angry at some point in the day. Today, even. You'll cut your fingernail too close. You'll hit your toe on something. You'll burn your tongue. You'll get cut off by another driver. These things make you pissed. And they should. The difference is that people without anger problems will burn out and be cool in a couple minutes. They'll forget the guy who tailgated them all the way down Broad Street. Some things take a little longer to come down from than others, but honestly, in a week you probably won't remember the gross and particular details of that Pop Tart goo that napalmed your top lip. For someone with anger management difficulties, there are a couple layers. The first is that you don't forget that Pop Tart or that asshole driver or whatever it was that triggered your anger. You remember and you sit on it and you simmer like a fantastic chili. Delicious, delicious chili. I love chili.

The second thing is that I love being angry. Being angry is comfortable and familiar. When I, with my poor anger management, get angry, I try as hard as I can to stay angry. It's empowering. And my triggers are simple and everywhere. I could drop a leaf of paper and lose my shit, and then that gives me a license to be pissed off. It's a high like any kind of dust that you're blowing up your schnoz or liquid chemical you're juicing up your veins. When that jack is starting to wear off, you take more. Anger is the same for me. And yes, it demanufactures my beauty every time.

Rageaholic, they call it. I love that rageahol. It has a wonderful bouquet and great legs with a fantastic kiss on the soft pallet. That's what separates my anger from anyone who can manage his own. Have you ever been at the bar with a friend and hit that point where you say, 'Hey, bro. You've had enough alcohol?' Replace the booze with anger and there's my addiction. The drink for some is their own beauty destructor. Beauty destructor. That one sucks too. Think of the friend you have who drinks too much. I know you have one (it may be you), and think of how he behaves when he passes that threshold of being fun to be around. Think of his beauty at that moment. Think of how you perceive that person's beauty when he isn't sauced. He's a great guy with a beautiful soul and attitude and mind. Then add the junk. Add the whiskey or the beer or (if he's one of those types) the Washington Apple. (Thanks to Dan for 'Washington Apple.') You can see, physically, his beauty being chiseled away with each sip and shot, even if that shot is chocolate cake, which is just a headache and a belly ache in a shot glass. And it's not being chiseled in a Venus Di Milo kind of way. Anger is the drink that does that to me.

We all have several things that we keep in a dark box that each erode our beauty in their own specific ways. Our challenge is to manage them. We won't beat them or eliminate them, and to think we can is foolish and frustrating. Any rehabilitated individual (if you believe in rehabilitation) will tell you that it is about management and not elimination. It will always be there whether it's booze or smack or sex or anger. Some days, for me anyway, it's even hour to hour; and other days I wake looking forward to the thing that will set me off so that I have an excuse to be angry. It's beauty ruining. Beauty ruiner. That one blows too.

So what do we do about it. We have some choices. First is that we can indulge it. I could allow myself to be angry all the time and thoroughly swim in its wonderful, juicy wonderful juiciness. But that isn't how civilized society acts. I can't go around knocking on other people's car windows when they honk at me at a red light. I'm glad I stopped doing that. The second option is to bury it. Dig up some space in the dirt of your soul, and stuff it in there. The anger, the junk, the booze. Stuff, stuff, stuff until no more fits. Then what? It comes out in a bursted balloon of everything at once. A binge or an overdose or violence. That doesn't seem to be very productive. Or we can let the air out of the balloon slowly. That's two balloon analogies in one paragraph; told you I can't write. As the craving is happening, we can remember what the indulgence of that craving does to us, and maybe more importantly, those around us. Not only are we destroying our beauty sculpture, we're needling away at our relationships, be them romantic or friendly or acquaintance. We don't want to be around those who are indulging self-destructive behaviors. Especially when they're ripped up drunk and wearing a lampshade. Which I've never seen, but it seems popular in black and white movies. With anger, there's a sense of danger. Those around us are on an edge of unpredictability. What is he going to do? What is the guy that he's antagonizing going to do? Am I safe? Within those questions, there is no beauty.

We must protect and nurture our beauty like a cafe marron. (That's the world's rarest tree, by the way. It is suspected that only one exists in the world.) We must do everything we can to believe in our beauty, celebrate it, and foster its growing. Indulging in things like anger, jealousy, hate, addiction, and downright super crabby behavior chokes our own cafe marron. Our own beauty is the rarest tree in the world because like that cafe marron, there is only one. Are there times to indulge these things? Maybe. I'm sure that anger will serve me at some point. Like getting trapped on a mountain pass and having to fight a puma with a holly leaf and the thighbone of the companion I had to eat a week earlier. But on the whole, we should always be thinking of our beauty first and our indulgent addictions later. Easier said than done, I know, but that's why I'm in therapy. Sometimes we all need help, and most times we don't realize it. Sometimes it takes someone on the outside to say, 'what you're doing is destroying your beauty.' Consider for a moment if what you are doing is feeding or starving your beauty. Stay beautiful, kids.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad


  1. that was awesome. JB

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