That’s what they say about this form of pottery. This kintsukuroi. That it’s more beautiful for having been broken. I think people can be that way. I’d like to think it’s that way. I’d like to think my heart is that way, that it’s formed into this beautiful piece of art after being broken several times.

I don’t really know. What if it’s just become horrible and misshapen as things go just as often? It doesn’t feel that way but who knows how it looks from another pair of eyes. And how many people would see that? Everyone? I do feel like the Frankenstein monster sometimes. It feels like everyone sees it. Is it my imagination that people recoil in horror? I have to wonder.

Heartbreak.

So many songs about heartbreak. So many about longing and that deep existential ache. There are too many really. Then there are a bunch more where they just miss the mark and the songs are pretty enough but have no soul at all. Not even a heart in there to feel broken? They’re just going through the motions, like making wallpaper for the ears. I figure if a song about heartbreak can’t make you cry then either it’s not doing it’s job or you’ve gone out of your way to avoid the ones that will. I’ve put this one up in the recent past but I’m going to do it again. Blaze Foley nailed it and if it doesn’t hit you hard… well I guess maybe there’s a possibility too that I’m just a mess. I think it’s you but maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s just me.

Maybe mine has just been busted up so many times that it can’t be put together again. All the kings horses and all the kings men and all that. I tell you what though. My golden rule has always been “getting by no matter what.” It doesn’t seem to have shit to do with getting ahead, but I get by. I wonder sometimes how I go out into public feeling broken and grotesque but I seem to do it again and again. It’s kind of funny in a not so funny, not so haha kind of funny way. Big old man with such fragile innards. Add that to all the mismatched parts I seem to have been put together with. Go into the leftover bin and make a big guy. Okay, the arms are too short and the head’s too damn big, and the eyes don’t work so well, and well… that heart is just a damn mess. How’s he going to manage out in a world that really doesn’t give a good goddamn.

I would like to think though that it’s more like that blue pottery stuff, all laced with gold. Stress on blue. Stress on gold. Maybe I’m beautiful. Or maybe not.

Don’t know why I woke up today doing this inventory of people I’ve loved so deeply, and people who said they loved me. Don’t get it twisted. I do believe that a couple of them really did. Truly. Then others thought they did. Then some just said they did. A couple loved that I loved them, I suppose. I don’t know. I can’t really tell what other people are feeling or thinking. It’s gotten a hell of a lot easier to know for sure what’s going on in my own head and in my own heart. That part is down pat.

It’s funny there are a hell of a lot more songs about heartbreak than songs about love that has a happy ending. Think about that. Maybe that’s just the way it goes for everyone and that’s why the sad ones are so much more popular. There is very little solace in that for those of us who somehow believe that a happy ending is possible.

I just don’t know.

There a couple people I used to turn to for some kind of comfort when I woke up like this. They’re gone now forever, since we’re talking about heartbreak that doesn’t mend. People die. There are songs about that too.

Okay, I’m done for now.