Me and Mr. Jones

I was sitting in the dark when the lights went out. Rather, had the lights been on they would have gone off, but I didn’t notice because it was already dark.

Electricity is a vivrant thing, but it lost its potential when I stopped the flow. It could no longer stop its own.

Is it possible to cease if you do not exist? This sounds a bit like falling trees in an empty wood, to be sure, but it may well illuminate the secret of bending spoons.

I stood up and pulled the string but the sleeping bulb slept on. Suddenly there was a lack where before there had been nothing at all. It’s only in the contrast that life begins to take its form. Shadows help us to see the places light has been.

“The root intellectual problem with psychiatry is that there is no coherent infrastructure of knowledge about what humans do, how they do it and why they do it.” This is where it all began and where, for the most part, it remained. We talked at each other for awhile, but really this was his central point and mine was simply a “Yes, but…” that fell on deaf ears. However, I’ve been unable to quit the echoes and their many possibilities, and so here we are.

And who are we? Well, your humble narrator (of course) and his friend Ian who works in a lab that engages in neuro-scientific studies. Ian and I somehow stumbled upon the topic of psychiatry, and this caused him to express his disdain for what he referred to as “not a science at all.” I asked him to expound upon the subject and that was when he made the above statement, along with the following explanation:

“This is not to say that human behavior can’t be studied in a systematic way, it’s just that due to the age of the field I don’t think they have historically been very systematic, until recently. And even now, when psychiatric research tries to make assertions about how humans work from a behavioral perspective, they can often only look at broad populations, and many times the observations cannot be applied to individuals. This is contrasted to biological research which aims to describe a system (and always attempts to tackle systems less complex than human behavior) which have causal relationships whereby some stimulus produces some effect. And if no causation can be found than the system is not adequately understood and no assertions can be made.

This is the basis of my problem with psychiatry. Because by it’s nature human behavior is extremely complex, and [psychiatrists] have started making assertions about a system that is not fully understood. At least with cellular processes you can find cause and effect relationships which can be combined to explain ever larger systems within a cell.”

I understood the logic of these statements, and could possibly agree with their conclusion, except for the fact that implicit in the final paragraph is a faith in the scientific method that I simply don’t possess. So although I was not disagreeing with him, we seemed to be debating because I was calling scientific assumptions into question. Such as, “Can cellular activities really provide you insight into the human psyche? Will all of your mechanical analysis really lead to a more profound understanding than the questionable practices of psychiatrists?”

My contention was that the brain, as matter, cannot ever fully reveal the complexities of the self. In the same way that an analysis of the self (psychiatric or otherwise) would never actually explain or help to picture the brain or its devices. This would have been an easier point to make if I had been arguing for the existence of a “soul” or “spirit” in which our conciousness might be personified. But I wasn’t and am not. I do not agree with that approach either.

What then? It isn’t productive nor profound to simply deny it all. But it is far too complex an issue to feel comfortable with any sort of explanation, so in a way the real answer lies in the void. A person cannot simply live inside the mind, nor may he live without one. Where does vision actually see? And where do thoughts remember?

I tried to explain these things to Ian, only to realize that more words actually gave me less to explain. I do think his approach is valid, but I also feel confident that my psychiatrist does know some things about the things that make me tick. However, it is the artist who plays around and imagines that gets closer to the truth then either of the other two. If only there were a way to take them all at once, place one on top of the other and take them apart at the same time.

I’ve always felt that one needs the proper moniker to help out with contextualizing one’s experiences. So, as I move through the week, I would like to know what to call the day I’m about to have. Traditionally, midweek is a bit bland, and there aren’t a lot of traditions to pilfer for ideas. I may just have to venture out into the unknown today. God forbid.

Tony’s on the 1s and 2s!!!! Let’s get the crowd movin’ y’all!

I’m up (upright, that is) but not necessarily awake. And yet, with some “Paid in Full” in my headphones, and some Dunkin’ Donuts in my hand, I’m still feeling pretty good.

Yesterday was a good beginning, as far as productivity goes. Applied for some jobs, turned in some assignments, and I saw some friends. Now today there are still more assignments to be completed, and bills to be paid, but I think it’s going to all work out just fine. And if not, I’m sure Rakim’s got my back:

“I take 7 MC’s put em in a line
And add 7 more brothas who think they can rhyme
Well, it’ll take 7 more before I go for mine
And that’s 21 MC’s ate up at the same time
Easy does it, do it easy, that’s what I’m doin
No fessin, no messin around, no chewin
No robbin, no buyin, bitin, why bother
This slob’ll stop tryin fightin to follow
My unusual style will confuse you a while
If I was water, I flow in the Nile
So many rhymes you won’t have time to go for your’s
Just because of a cause I have to pause
Right after tonight is when I prepare
To catch another sucka duck MC out there
Cos my strategy has to be tragedy, catastrophe
And after this you’ll call me your majesty
My melody…”

Of no interest to anyone, save myself, I am up and moving and on the way to actually getting things done. Set the trash out on the sidewalk for the trashmen this morning, shaved and showered, made it to work, and began my so so late assignment. Of course, now I’m blogging instead of working, but we all experience turbulence. Baby steps, people, baby steps.

But, if all goes well, then inertia should be on my side for the rest of the week. I’ll let you know.

With the moon on my shoulder,
and you on my mind,
I will lay down…

Sometimes it is easy to get sad before bedtime. The light fades and expectations of tomorrow begin to rise. It’s time to stack the chairs upon the tables, the night’s all that is left behind. And he can be a dark companion.

A Sunday afternoon nap, what could be better? More relaxing? Well, perhaps one in which you don’t dream both your boyfriend and your father are in the hospital dying of some unknown disease. But it isn’t just unpleasant for yourself, oh no, it can also be a drag for the person living in your apartment who had to listen to you whimpering and yelling out loud. Yeah, it pretty much just sucks all the way around. Go figure.

I recently had a long talk with a male friend about relationships. Specifically, our respective relationships with our boyfriends and how they follow the stereotypical “straight” model. You know, the gap between males and females and their polar opposite ways of dealing with everything. The logical man, the emotional woman. The inward guy, the expressive lady. Stubborn vs. sensitive and so on and so forth.

I’ve had the same talk before, with my female friends. We’ve commiserated about our various struggles with the men in our lives. And I have always identified with them as if I, too, were from Venus.

But having this conversation with another man, expressing the truths I feel I’ve learned through my dating years, gave me pause. On two levels. The first being the fact that these binary relationships must exist. The second being the realization that in order for them to exist I have to play the part of the girl.

Foucault says: “Women have always been seen by [heterosexual men] as their exclusive property… Heterosexual men felt that if they practiced homosexuality with other men this would destroy what they think is their image in the eyes of their women. They think of themselves as existing in the minds of women as master. They think that the idea of their submitting to another man, of being under another man in the act of love, would destroy their image in the eyes of women. Men think that women can only experience pleasure in recognizing men as masters.”

This may or may not have anything to do with what I’m trying to say, but it is always interesting to mention something that Foucault says…

What is interesting about all of this to me is the fact that, quite simply, perhaps certain dynamics must be met in order to achieve some balance. Would our “guy” boyfriends exist without their “gal” counterparts? Is there a reason we are together? Is it true that opposites attract? No, not that they attract, but can they co-exist?

None of this should be considered rhetorical. Not at all.

What tensions pull me, tug me, cause me harm? It is the perceived drama of the heart and my emotional mind. Lately, I am plagued by a heavy loneliness. Luckily, there are costumes and anagrams, ways to help me make peace with the fact that the only thing I have to say is simply “Darling, I love you.”