Surviving the Rut

The key to survival is attitude. As Hamlet said, there is nothing good or bad but thinking makes it so. So, learn to love the cold, wet days on which the sun sets before 5:00. There is something depressing about such days, yes, but....learn to SAVOR the cold and the darkness. Learn to savor the depression.

Masturbation is key. Masturbation is a great stress release. If we lived in an actually sensible culture, masturbation would be taught in school and pupils would compare their sexual fantasies during classtime with the teacher moderating the discussion. It would give gym teachers something to do besides pairing everyone up for teams. Last night, I had a MARVELOUS wank. I really did. I remembered about twelve women that I have had sex with, remembered what I really loved about being with them, every lurch and thrust and the grace or lack thereof and it was enough to keep me going for about twenty minutes. I felt so much better afterwards and enjoyed a good night sleep.

Next morning, I woke up at 5:00 for a trip to the gym: 38 minutes on a treadmill at 8 mph. The equivalent of 5 miles, my iPod blaring mindless 80s cock-rock the entire time. YEAH! Returned home for a hot shower and a pot of kick-ass coffee, courtesy of my grind-and-brew. And music---how could any of us live without music? I chose Dvorak's Carnival Overture to lift my spirits---I defy anyone to resist uplift during that piece. How can you not love Dvorak?

Ah, but when it's followed by Bach---Martha Argerich performing Bach's Partita no. 2 in C minor......a performer you'd more probably associate with Prokofiev or Bartok. But just fucking listen to it.....

Anyway, that was enough to get my day started. What would really, really pick me up would be to have sex with a woman I haven't slept with yet. Someone I don't even know. To meet someone in a bar and go home with her. Or on a train or just on the street (I have had very very very bad luck in that department. I still have stories I haven't written about.) I don't mind being rejected; I would rather be an ass than shy. Not that I want to be an ass, of course, but if I must fall slightly on one side or the other (and we all do fall on one side or the other) I would rather be on the side of the ass.

That reminds me of the night and the girl that really really turned me against Notre Dame. Not the cathedral---the cathedral is great. The school, and especially the football team.

In the mid-90s I used to go to parties in Lincoln Park. Lincoln Park is the yuppie, post-collegiate neighborhood and it's filled with exactly that sort of people. The parties were very collegiate---a party was either a Boston College party, or an Illinois party (those were awful) or a Michigan party and so on and so forth. Not that everyone present attended that school but the 80% rule that governs American wine labelling also governed twenty-something Lincoln Park parties.

One night, I went to a Notre Dame party. A girl I knew gathered some friends for a pre-party at her place and one of the other attendees was a nordic looking girl in ultra-preppy clothes. We struck up a conversation and traded barbs back and forth. Flirting with an edge. The party itself was, I thought, awful. Everyone looked unbelievable stuffy in a 50s, Catholic prep-school, Bill Buckley-National Review kind of way and there was a smugness that permeated the entire room.

I pride myself on being able to get along with a wide variety of people, but I couldn't stand the crowd. So I asked the Valkyrie if everyone at Notre Dame was a stuck up as this group. She gave me a look and said,

"You're an ass."

I responded,

"You're a bitch."

Her mouth fell open and I realized that I had just gone too far. Oh, well, blame it on the Jager. I left soon after that, but I felt better about having gotten something off my chest. Likewise with women---I would a thousand times rather be rejected than not make the pass. Even an awkward, alcohol-infused pass is better than the sting of regret that comes from walking away and thinking,

"Maybe if I put an ad in the Reader under Missed Connections......"

Thus, the key to surviving the rut: take chances and leave no regrets on the table. If you can fill the unforgiving minute/ With sixty seconds worth of distance run/ Yours is the earth and everything that's in it/ And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son.