Sentient Beans

Buy Me a Coffee at ko-fi.com

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Planetary Signals.

Communication can take many forms. Verbal, visual, aural, physical, intuitive, and perhaps one of the most effective, omission. As in any relationship there is always an exchange of resources, and often times we feel that we are transacting a fair exchange. Whether it is time, financial, affection, loyalty, or sharing resources, these are all part of the give and take that is existence. But there is no ledger in the sky and the value of resources can often be misunderstood or even in dispute. Balancing that ledger on a planetary scale is neither easy or even possible with incomplete or inaccurate information. This is where rifts can slowly form into canyons of astronomical proportions. Silently but persistently they grow. Imperceptible in the day to day activities of life.

So it was with Judith Janet Planet and myself. Like the running water of a river that can form grand canyons, so we continued on the river that was our life together. Much of my time riding on the South Shore Line, and working. Much of the Planets time seeing to the day to day welfare of the satellites Clarke and Addison. But today's world does little to reinforce the value of such domestic endeavors. We certainly give lip service to the sublime pursuit of parenting, but with the same conviction of “have a nice day”, that we pass from one another in our daily interactions. So when Planetary goals are not being met, and when Planetary compensation is felt inadequate, needless to say the polarity of the Planet may begin to go askew.

There were many signals, some heeded, some unrecognized, but in retrospect, they were there. Talking didn't seem to work. Fucking becomes infrequent. Actually became nonexistent unless initiated by me, which can become problematic for one that has issues of self image to begin with as well as a disinclination to convince people to do things for my own satisfaction. Add that toxic brew to a Planet with many of those same issues and it becomes clear that a happy ending is less than certain.

Then the ultimate clue, missed by the clueless me, was dropped.

“It's not you , it's me”, said Judith Janet Planet.

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Ball-Less

Rene Uhbaduh said that all my meanness got cut off with my foot. She was wise for her years, but maybe a little low. I sometimes feel that my balls were removed at the same time. If nothing else poor body image, not that I ever was a pretty boy. But the Planet had body issues of her own, both before and after childbirth. Add latent evangelical Christian backgrounds and children to the mix there wasn’t a lot of naked, grape sharing time to be had. Perhaps a more intact me would been more amourously aggressive which might have been just what the doctor ordered for the Planets evangelical prudery, and the conflicting emotions in me combining the reverence for the sainted mother of my recombined DNA and the object of my burning lust. Then again maybe not. What may be a concise summation of the 14 year marriage to Judith Janet Planet?

As the daily trip upon the South Shore wore down my body and soul, so did the ever growing divide between our orbits. At first there were huge upsets about finances, household chores,and time for each other. Unfortunately many of these raged silently within both the Planet and myself. Like volcanic activity, only occasionally bursting forth from either one or the other, but rarely simultaneously. In retrospect it seemed neither of us wanted a confrontation, and there was so many other things to do. Work schedule kept me away long hours each week day, and the satellites growing and becoming mobile filled the Planets daylight hours.

Another aspect was playing out, the ramifications of which I was not aware of. The Planet herself came from a fractured solar system, a state of affairs I was unaccustomed to having come from what was, if nothing else, a more outwardly stable orbit family. More of the old school of stay together because of the kids, and then stay together because we have nothing better to do. Which arrangement is of greater or of lesser value is beyond my judgmental capabilities. The Planets Paternal Planetoid had contracted cancer. The conflicting emotions that were playing beneath the Planets surface were in full eruption interuptus. If such emotions were attempted to be shared with me, I obviously missed the signal. So they remained below the surface and festered.

I busied myself with trying to stay ahead of the ever increasing out flow of income, weekends of landed gentry maintenance activities and praying the Planet wouldn't be to demanding on social commitments allowing me a few moments rest on my days at the ranch. I found pleasure spending time with my sons, the Planet had it up to her polar ice cap by the weekends and felt no more time of hers was necessary with the little moons. She lit out of there Saturday mornings like a comet with a mission. Usually missions of the gapping maw of senseless consuming I would discover.

Within a year the Planet called for some counseling. So it was off to the counselors we went. We had three sessions together with the counselor, after that the Planet was chosen to attend on her own because Sigmund's brother French felt she was emotionally blocked. Well, that was it for that counselor. It was back to spinning within the vast emptiness of space for the both of us.

Can you hear a Planet scream in space.