Starting to wonder if these Hollywood squares are real? I see them daily, blurry backgrounds or fastidiously made beds, head and shoulders, zooming away all day, back-to-back. How simple to create this simulation, glorified hamster wheel. I say words and heads nod, jargon gathers like storm clouds on the horizon ready to dump torrential.
The deluge of a day, sometimes uncontrolled like flash flooding of chores and responsibilities, cloud-break moments of tenderness, the smile of my son, embrace of my lover, the sweetest sadness shared like a feast. So intimate and connecting, binding us together as family.
Then, as if grip on river rock slips, I rejoin the current, fast-moving litany of mundane; dishes, laundry, lunches, pick-ups, drop-offs, cat food, cat shit, plants to water, beds to make and on and on. One must imagine Sisiphus happy.
And indeed, if pressed, or not even pressed but quite simply and plainly put, happier than ever. True happiness, the other side of Hollywood happy ending, the kind of gourmet happy that runs strong with complex notes of bright and bitter, tobacco and chocolate and the somehow, unmistakable bottom note that is death and decay. Comforting to us all, somewhere in that lizard brain, recognizable as an old friend. True happiness and for that I am quite grateful.