18 June 2013

The Highest Prize

Mood: amused.

I received a vindication of sorts this past weekend.

Imagine the scene: a well-stocked wine and cheese section of a local market. I was there to load up on some provisions in preparation for a blonde bombshell cougar who was scheduled to take up residence at La Estancia de LBF for the night. More on her, later.

Cute housewives in yoga pants and ponytails dotted the place, indulging as they do in inane chatter. I saw out of the corner of my eye a shapely young blonde filly standing several yards away. Over a fine selection of aged Stilton I noticed she kept half-looking over her left shoulder in my direction. As I neared she turned and grinned at me and opened her mouth as if to say something, at which moment I realised she was the very girl with whom I broke up last summer. And she had clearly gained weight.

I walked past her in that confident, knowing, slightly cocky manner I have naturally developed over the last fifteen years or so, and which a few of my girlfriends have dubbed 'the walk'. (The ladies know what I am referring to). When one must quickly exit an awkward situation I find it is best to do so in as dignified a manner as possible.

My late father always said I had a cruel streak a mile wide. I am afraid he did not know the half of it, poor chap. Certainly it is a quality I have striven to live down to. But I like to think that what he perceived as mere cruelty is actually disregard, or contempt. And God knows there is an awful lot these days to be contemptuous of.

The modern world, I think, is an inadequate place. The standard wages of success are simply not enough. I discard beautiful women, such as my ex-girlfriend and first wife, as if they were candy wrappers. After all, there is always another one around the corner. It is a system, you see. And then at the end of it all one dies--alone, if need be, which they tell me is a bad thing and something to avoid, but I am not so certain. Death is over-rated. Do not misunderstand me. I am very grateful for the kind of life I have been granted. I enjoy it as best I can, which is to say a lot, and what is more I enjoy sharing it with you here. And yet, something is missing.

I am reminded as I often am of the verse I once saw in a copy of the magazine Pflug und Speer when I was a little boy:

Den Kramern lasst ihr Gold
Den Ruhm den Schlächtern
Bekkent Euch zu den Verächtern
Die schwertlos ringen um den Hohen Preis

Leave the gold to the merchants
And glory to the warriors
Become one of the scorners who fight
For the highest prize

What is the prize? And how does one achieve it?

10 comments:

Anonymous said...

Love!!! How do you achieve it? The answer varies. In your case, the challenge is to find the strengths which exist in others---therein lies the beauty. And I'm not referring solely to women. In the case of your ex, she smiled at you. She didn't have to do this simple act of kindness but she did. She could have given you a cold shoulder very similar to the one which you to gave her. Ah, but then, would you still have written about her?

Bourbon & Pearls said...

For all your quirks, I'd still pick you for my cocktail partner; dark, flawed, aren't we all?

YBH said...

I'm with B&P! I'd have drinks with you any time, LBF-Bonz.

Ryu said...

The prize is self control. Mastery over one's own desires. To truly be able to be the creator of one's fate, morals and ideas.

Anonymous said...

B&P and YBH,

Its not a "cocktail Partner" he is looking for, don't you get it? Say what you mean.

matthew mueller said...

I always feel pleased after encountering an old acquaintance and realizing that they have gotten worse while I have only gotten better. But this should be no surprise. One has only to look out the window to see how miserable and wretched most people are. In fact, Schopenhauer, a notorious pessimist, once remarked that the our only source of consolation in this life is to look at other people who are worse off than we are (which is something that can always be done!).

But enough with this sort of talk. I want to hear about this "blonde bombshell cougar." What happened with her? My best sexual memories are the ones I have of older women -- so much so that it is sometimes hard for me to actually believe that they really happened.

For example, I remember meeting this affluent Russian widow a few years ago. She lived in this huge castle and owned several Dairy Queen franchises (which she inherited from her deceased husband). In fact, she told me that her Russian husband was murdered under mysterious circumstances (mafia-related, perhaps?). But I had such an amazing time with her. I used to drive over to her castle and spend the entire night in her bed making love. Endless love-making. Sometime we would go out for drinks. But the sole purpose was always to inflame our already intense passions.

Then I made a mistake. She left for Europe with some friends for a few weeks. I remember thinking that she was going to sleep with European guys and so I cut off all contact with her. I was so childish in my younger years....

YBH said...

Anonymous:

Cock. Tail. Partner.


There!

Anonymous said...

YBH,
Way to go! No more teasing. Lets be adult about the obvious. I like your style.

w. adam mandelbaum esq. said...

single guys die alone. married guys die next to an ugly old woman. Single guys can leave their estate to whomever they choose. Married guys have to, by law in most states, give the old ball and chain a certain percentage of the stuff she never earned. I'll take single any day of the year.

Anonymous said...

The prize my dear fellow is living fully in the world moment by moment and realizing your true place in it from a phenomenological first person perspective. Being aware of the past and future yet unburdened by them.

You achieve this by reconfiguring your nervous system through meditative training to reach a critical mass of concentration power, sensory clarity and emotional equanimity, at which point what you thought was your identity is seen as a rather hilarious joke. Some people go overboard with this and become monks living in caves. I say, never trust a man who doesn't get his dick sucked once in a while.