i just finished reading Thomas Mann's "the Will to Happiness" from his collected tales with "Death in Venice"
the story of a sickly man
who defies death for years
desperately seeking happiness
and as soon as he gets the woman he's pined for all that time
he dies the night of their Wedding.
Like the story of my friend Tapestry
who was sick with HIV for 12 years or so
the last time i saw him
he had finally found a boy he could love
and be loved by
who could accept him totally
push him in the ways he needed to be pushed
rush him in the ways he needed to be rushed
-- He'd gotten very ill since he had this love
thin, "full blown AIDS" he said...
they had excellent love
all the places he had been wanting to go
joy of joys
his new love took him to live in Ireland
finally outside of the US
in an old castle somewhere by the sea:
He died a month later.
& i feel like i've seen and heard this story so many times before
i've often wondered
is it always happiness? fulfillment?
is that satisfaction?
to stay alive is a constant struggle
more obvious for some...
what keeps me alive?
what am i yearning for?
and do i really want off this planet?
in the last years
i've seen myself just become a crotchety old man
wise and weary and constant
nothing overly important
but present to those who need that.
will my life ebb on like that?
is there a great desire that can find that will release me?
will there be a battle against a blasé existence?
or some passion that needs completing?
my life, perhaps more than the world as a whole, is a mystery to me.