I don't think I've ever had a real friend. Maybe in elementary school, before a person is aware of what it is to be a friend. When you are naturally just a friend. You like somebody because you do. You are intensely loyal to them because you are. Because you laugh and play together. Because you yell and fight together. Because you want good things for them because you do. Because you are jealous of them for nothing and happy for them for nothing. Because that is what you do. Maybe in elementary school. Maybe not.

     I don't think I've ever had a real thought. Maybe by accident, before a person is aware of what thinking is. When you naturally have original thoughts because there was nothing to make them unoriginal. Before your relatives squeeze their thoughts into your head. Before your "friends" force their style and mannerisms onto your own. Don't get me started on the newsteacherscartoonspriestscomicbooksdoctorsbooksneighbors counselorstextbooksTVbabysittersdinosaurspastorsnewspapers

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greekmythology and naked women. Actually, dinosaurs are still pretty awesome. I miss my own thoughts. I think.

     I don't think I've ever really wanted anything more than real friends and real thoughts. They have always been elusive for me. I  have the vague impression that I know what they are, and maybe I was even  well acquainted with them at some point, but now they are strangely mixed and diluted with every other foggy memory in my little brain. They are not real. My little brain. If I was privileged to meet one or even, God forbid both, what would I do with them. I'm positive I would not appreciate them, because I would already be thinking about something else I imagine to be lacking. I would be fully immersed in a different fantasy. I would even be irritated by my real friend or real thought. They would quickly become an unbearable and disgusting inconvenience and I would wish more than anything to be without them. Of course until they were irretrievably  gone and then I would miss them terribly. Maybe I think not.

     A better understanding of the UNIVERSE results in a better understanding of our place in it. You know, the things people have been trying to understand since the beginning of people. What is the sky and the stars and the sun and the planets and the space around them and where did they come from and now what and then what? Beyond the physics of the motherfuckers. Beyond the speculation of the motherfuckers. It is a futile gaze into the neverending. A fruitless search for something that is unfindable. It is too much for us. So, does a partial understanding result in a  partial understanding of our place in it. Sure. Is there a difference between all chaos with Erebus appearing from the void and  the Big Bang? No. The result is the same. A partial understanding of the unknown. You understand that something is there and if something is there then it came from somewhere so there must be an explanation of its origins. What that explanation is does not matter because its unverifiable. The result is the same: the sky and the stars and sun and the planets and the space around them exist. You and I will never see the big picture. Deal with it.

     A better understanding of the PLANET results in a better understanding of our place in it. You know, the things people have been trying to understand since the beginning of people. What is the earth and the plants and the animals and the elements and the space around them and where did they come from and now what and then what? This is much easier for us to understand. we can see it, we can feel it, we can taste it, we can hear it, we can smell it. Our little minds can wrap their grubby little fingers around it. Sort of. Do we fully understand it? No. We understand a tiny part of the big picture. Isolate an infinitesimal part of the whole and disect it. Tear it apart, classify it, and stick it in a book so that others can understand an infinitesimal part of the whole. The splintered parts are comforting, but never come together to complete the picture.  I can deal with that.

     A better understanding of the PEOPLE results in a better understanding of our place in it. You know, the things people have been trying to understand since the beginning of people. What is life and the mind and the body and the thoughts and the feelings and the space around them and where did they come from and now what and then what? This is the hardest thing for me to understand. It is the most accesible and fully unattainable. It is mine but I belong to it. The first piece of the puzzle. How do you understand anything else if you do not understand yourself? A futile gaze into the neverending.

     I am a romantic. I am very romantic. Not all the time, but most of the time. Well, that might be a little bit of a stretch, I am romantic some of the time. At the very least I know how to be romantic. Actually it does not come very naturally to me so I can not call my self a romantic, but I can be romantic, with a little bit of effort. It is such a pain in the ass to be romantic and I hate it so much that I say it takes a lot of effort. A tremendous amount of effort, it is the most exhausting undertaking known to man. That's why it is so unusual that I have been in a romantic mood the past week. It is such a waste because I am in a committed relationship and everybody knows that romance has no business being in one those things. Oh bother!

     It's not just some random feelings or thoughts that came out of nowhere. I can easily pinpoint the trigger. It was a girl. A girl that I first stared interacting with two years ago. She is very pretty with dark eyes and long curly hair. She has sharp, delicate features that rarely betray what she is feeling or thinking. She seemed very serious. She also didn't know a word of English when I first met her. My first attempt at talking to her turned into a lot of head shaking, wild gesticulating and funny faces. I've seen her about once a month since our first encounter. I never tried talking to her again, but I always made a point to look her right in the eyes and smile. I would hold the gaze just a little bit longer than normal, right at that borderline between the hey I'm interested in you look and the hey I'm really creepy and I'm staring at you look. She always politely returned the smile, but still seemed very serious. I recently heard her talking to somebody in English. It was very poor English, almost incomprehensible, but it was still English. What really struck me was her voice. It was the most unpleasant, screeching, cracking sound that I've ever heard from a human throat. It sounded fake, like a parrot talking. Not one of those good talking parrots, more like a parakeet. A warbling, high pitched, stilted imitation of the English Language. A horrifying union of a small dog's incessant whine and the prepubescent voice of a young boy. I was stunned. Now I really liked her. Oh joy!

     The next time I saw her, before I could think of or do something impressive, I stopped what I was doing looked down, then while my head was still tilted downwards, my eyes looked at hers, I did a little half arm wave as though my elbow were connected to my body and I said hi. She gave me the biggest, brightest most beautiful genuine smile and said hi. I quickly looked away and jerked my body in the direction opposite of where I was looking and lumbered away. I felt like a malfunctioning robot that suddenly couldn't control its parts anymore. None of that was the romance trigger. The trigger came the next month, which was our most recent interaction. I was sitting down looking at something in my hands. I glanced up at somebody who was walking towards me. A girl. A girl who was staring at me. Staring at me like we knew each other. Before I even realized who it was she smiled. A very expressive smile. A come and talk to me smile. I returned a closed mouth smile and nodded my head. She walked past me. My heart was beating fast, I felt nervous and jittery. A couple of years ago I would have stood up and talked to her, never giving her a chance to walk by me. Not this time. I sat there. Trigger. Thoughts of poetry, flowers, hand kissing, giggling, eye gazing, whispering, hand holding, love giddy.  I don't want to talk to her. I don't want to see her ever again. I like the way things were. When I would stare at her and smile and she would get a little nervous. Now I have a very short time period to do something, anything that shows I'm interested, or before you know it, no more gazes, no more smiles, no more warbling. Like I don't even exist, not even a dirty look. I shouldn't do it. I know I will regret it. But I probably will do it. Oh shit!

            Backgammon is such a stupid game. It has you believe that it is a game of skill and strategy but in reality it is a game of luck. It makes you think that you have to move this one before that one and leave this one instead of that one, but in reality all you have to do is be able to count. It makes you think that if you try really hard you can master it. It makes you think that with a lot of hard work you will triumph over anything. Don't believe the hype. Backgammon is the devil and the devil is a liar.

            Sure, you have to think a little bit. Sure, you have to know the rules. Sure, you have to a plan. Sure, you have to adjust the plan according to what happens which results in a strategy. But you and I and it both know that the name of the game is luck. If you don't flick the wrist the right way or play the angle correctly or spin the cup perfectly or at the very least get away with cheating, then you are fucked. The playing field ain't level baby. Don't let anybody tell you it is because they is a liar.

            And I'm not talking about dice and columns and boards and tokens or whatever the hell those little checkers are called. I am talking about your life and my life and it. Don't hype the belief. It is a liar.