Mo Huma

 

You are young you are ambitious, you are striving for success, but what is success if you can't see what's under your boot? You stomp on the pile of s-t and smell pretty bad, and your loved one says, "That's for good luck!" What's a "good luck"? What's a "good luck" if you have to clean dog s--t of your foot?

The radio is loud. It's some parasite DJ telling his part of the story. He is gloriously right about everything: the music and trends in fashion, politics and spirituality. Then what's missing in his perfect diction? Honesty of heart. Nothing there, just sales...

For the Nth time you and your friends are hanging out and having something to spice up an already happy conversation - you are totally enamored with their wit and knowledge of what's what. But who knows if they are going to be there in the future.

I assiduously resist the news media, and yet find my eyes sliding through the news page, as though I have a guilty pleasure to know what's in there, although I know perfectly well that the celebrities are where they are, that the Palestinians still haven't resolved it with Israel, that the narcotic dealers are still being hunted by the others, that there are new things to buy, and there are new ideologies to sell. I despise it and try to block it our of my brain, yet the nagging sensation remains - this is what we have agreed upon as being OUR NEWS. Next...

Next, a pleasant detour. You are on the date with the love of your life - they are surving the most exquisite pasta dish in that restaurant which is very hard to find free on that particular date. But something goes wrong, and there s a hair on your plate. A long, fuzzy hair - you are the only one who can notice it, because she is too involved gobbling up hers, so you have several options
1) Pull the hair out from the plate, hide it in your blazer, ask to go to the restroom and throw it out.
2) Keep eating everything, including the hair, and make believe you are thoroughly enjoying your time out.
3) Create commotion by pulling the hair from the plate, showing it to the love of your life, call the waiter, then point at the hair and say "What the f---k is this s----t??"
And yes, you are right there is also the  number 4 - you cover the dish with a large white napkin, pull out the long awaited engagement ring and say " Voilà baby!"

As Don Rickles says, "Ah, Anywa-aay" How easy it is to become a star lately?! All you have to do is convince yourself of your own outstanding stardom and you are there! I rarely see stars convincing themselves that they are "every day people" though. Are there every day people? The silent majority? The working class heroes? I don't know lately, as any everyday Jo-Shmo I encounter is usually a very smart and well-rounded individual with quite a few tricks up his sleeve and a private property behind him. I think the admission into the Jo-Shmo- Club has gotten a bit more exclusive lately. The everyday man of today, is not an everyday man of yesterday, simply because the everyday man of today has so much more available! He is always by some sort of a monitor, whether an obnoxiously large one or a hand-size one, shopping and all that. Ah, what would we do without the on-line shopping?!

I personally buy many things on-line, but I haven't been able to buy heart yet. Yes, heart. Although even this may change with the newly upgraded and updated technology, still - haven't been able to buy heart. Simple, jolly, healthy heart that gives that feels, that returns, that stays and that goes with the flow of things. Because heart is not for sale, you have to be heart - can't do it otherwise. And all the esoteric secrets murk near this simple one - be heart, always, and without a moments lapse.

Love,
Iggy.