Faith

There is a fine line between having faith and being a fool. Faith is believing you are wealthy when you aren't quite wealthy but know you will be soon. Fools spend money as if they are wealthy when they just aren't even close to being so. I've walked the tightrope between faith and foolishness my whole life. Sometimes, one could say, I've been the perfect faithful fool.

Regardless of what anyone tells you, feeling wealthy is all in the mind. If you wake up everyday excited and optimistic and grateful for what you have, expecting great things to happen in your life, you are surely wealthy. What that bank account reads is almost entirely irrelevant. If you're living life in faith, feeling grateful for all the bounty you've got. I've spent countless afternoons at the finest cigar stores from New York to San Francisco listening to grumpy old men worth millions, sometimes even billions, bitch moan and complain about how shitty their lives are, how much they hate their ex-wife, disapprove of their children, and despise everything from the mayor of the town they live in to the US Congress. This is not wealth. And this is not living a wealthy life.

If you ever want to see how the better half lives, or just get a good education in all things finance and money, take up cigar smoking for a few months. If you're female and feel that taking up smoking cigars is too distasteful for you, then tag along with your husband, boyfriend or a good friend and force them to do it with you. They won't be sorry. Besides the fact that there are very few things as satisfying as a good handmade cigar, what most people just don't know is that the richest men in the world hang out in these very quiet and private cigar stores all over the world. Every city in America has at least two or three of them. And there isn't a poor or middle class person in there. Except maybe for the employees themselves, who are always very decent fellows. The reason for this phenomenon is simple. Cigars are expensive. Not only does it take a lot of money to smoke them regularly (I spent $85,000 on cigars in the year 2004; yes I slightly regret it now, but it also brings a smile to face and make me laugh a little) but for whatever reason, once a man begins to acquire a lot of money, he just inevitably feels an inner need to take up cigar smoking. So as with all things temporal there is a cause to this effect.

Before both of us got married, Tomcat and I used to spend every Saturday afternoon after a good long brunch hanging out at De La Concha on Sixth Avenue in Manhattan smoking cigars and talking the good talk with all the older men that frequent this landmark hotspot. On any given day we'd bump into everyone from Rudi Guiliani to Jerry Springer (not as bad a guy as his television antics imply) to Mike Tyson to Reverend Al Sharpton to Donald Trump (he loves cigars more than he loves women and only second to his love for money...). There was a small group of us, I'd say about ten to fifteen, all men, who used to frequent this establishment with such regularity that we all knew each other by our first names, exchanged gifts during the Christmas Season (yep you guessed it, either a cigar, a cigar accessory, or a bottle of fine Port or a Single Malt), and asked about one another with a relatively sincere concern if we didn't see one or the other of the group for more than one "off night" out of every single day of the week. That's how cigar smokers are. It becomes quite a habit. And quite the gentleman's club.

The real teachable moment of this hair-raising adventure story is this though: Tomcat and I used to love hanging out and listening to this one old codger named Mel bitch about everything liberal; just because he was there I guess. It was familiar, often times entertaining, and occasionally educational. (There's nothing quite as entertaining as listening to a nasty old far-right conservative bitch about how "compassionate people" make them sick. It is just such a twisted viewpoint to have that the mere shock of it entertains; much like a horror movie I suppose). Of course we also enjoyed smoking with Mel because he was so wealthy and we liked picking up the odd tip or trick for money making that he'd inevitably let loose with now and again. But I will never forget the day that old Tomcat and I heard Mel complaining about the tax he had pay on the twenty-eight million dollars that he earned that year compared to the year prior where his accountant had gotten him off with a much smaller tax burden. Now remember, this man doesn't work. He is "retired." A New York Jewish man in his late fifties who lived right smack dab in the middle of Manhattan, the most expensive real estate on planet earth. (presently $1,300 per sq. ft. if you're into real estate and curious). Tom and I still talk about this amazing moment in our memory.

And it's really Tom who deserves the credit for this observation, more than I. And the observation was this. "Fishy do you remember Mel from De La Concha?" "Yeah, that nasty old rich guy who used to smoke the Cubans?" "Yeah." "What about him?" "I'll tell you man, how can someone be that miserable all the time? Do you remember how angry and bitter that dude was?" "Yeah, I guess now that you mention it I do... I haven't thought about him in a while actually. But yeah, dude, you're right. What was wrong with that guy?" "I don't know bro... but if I had that kind of money I think I'd be happier than that." "Well, see, that's what we all think isn't it? And yet there he was. He didn't like his wife. He didn't like the mayor. He didn't like the President. He hated almost everyone who came in to the cigar store..." "I don't know why he always let us sit with him..." "Probably because we posed no threat to him. I mean we were just young guys who sat with him and didn't say much and dude honestly, we never spoke up against him, no matter what he said. You know? I mean I don't think I ever agreed with one damn thing he said. I just wanted to listen and learn from him, as far as the business kind of things he talked about, investing and all that. It was insightful at times...." "What a miserable prick he was though," Tom commented laughing..

And there it was. A perfect example of how unwealthy one can be regardless of how much money they're sitting on. And there we were, not poor by any measure, but certainly not rolling in millions. At that time in my life I was financially comfortable. In other words, I didn't "have" to work for a living. I had already done that, early in life; I was lucky I suppose. But I also worked my tail off. And I also took a lot of major risks that would scare the bejesus out of most people. So by age 30 I had reached a comfortable place financially where I didn't "need" to work to make money as much as I just "needed to work." To keep my sanity. And to satisfy my craving for accomplishment. And though I wasn't a multi-millionaire, I was happy. I was content. In that I was a much wealthier man than old Mel from the cigar store.

Of course things changed for me once Cleopatra Ecstasy took everything I owned and more right out from under me. But that's another story and has already been written about extensively in previous entries of previous years here in these same diaries. Only thing I think that can be added to that story now is that even then, even after waking up one day a wealthy man, as I had for so many years prior, to discover that I was flat ass dead broke and that it happened to me literally "overnight" and worse yet the deed was perpetrated by someone I thought I loved dearly and vice versa, someone I lived with for six years and was engaged to be married to... even after all that, I was still happy. Maybe even "happier" I sometimes think to myself. From hero to zero literally overnight to the point that at the lowest point of my "poverty stage" I found myself collecting aluminum cans to trade them in for $5 a pound. And yet all the while I was still happy. I remember my friends and family occasionally asking me "how the heck can you walk around so happy all the time with everything you've been through over the last two years?" My answer was always "I'm not quite sure. I mean, I'll tell you one thing... I can't quite describe it... but before when I used to have a lot of money, I felt a little isolated from everyone around me. As if there was something wrong with me for being so rich. And now at least I feel sort of "at one with the people."" Not many people understood what I was talking about of course... but I did. It was true. Truth was speaking. I'd trade that big bag of cans in at the local grocery store for ten to twenty bucks and man you just can't feel any closer to "the people" than that. By "the people" I mean the every-man on the street. The old ladies wheeling the little roller of grocery bags behind her on her way home from shopping. Or the cashier who used to weigh my bags of cans. No more Mr. Bigshot wondering why that cashier seemed to look so down on me when I shopped there. Nah, not me. I was no different than she was. We were united in our brokeness. And the same went for all the musicians that I'd hang out with. No more pulling up in a convertible BMW or a black limo. I became a subway guy. A bus riding guy. Just like everyone else. And in that simple change of circumstance came a profound change of my mental state.

But here's the catch in case you're now thinking about giving all your money away to a charity so you too can feel that sense of oneness with the people. That wasn't what made me happy. Hell, I hated being that poor. And after a few months of it, I realized that being one with the people isn't all it's cracked up to be. No, what really kept me happy was the fact that I had one hundred and ten percent conviction that no matter how broke I was during that period that it wasn't going to last that long. I just knew that I was destined to re-gain my financial wealth again. I blamed God for my predicament for a while there. Until a voice in my head told me that "God didn't do that to you; another human did that to you. God is the one who's providing all these generous people who have come to your rescue over the last year or two. That's God." And of course, that idea just made me even happier. I had faith in that. A strong faith. Blind faith? Maybe. But I've never met an unhappy blind person. So that label is fine with me.

So here we are. Six years after the anti-christ disguised as an innocent young femme fatale stole everything I own and I'd be a fool not to declare loudly and confidently that I've had one humdinger of a great time these past six years. I've traveled all over the world. Learned a few new languages. Made a ton of new friends. Solidified deeper connections with a ton more older friends. Created some awesome music with so many beautiful people. Married the woman of my dreams. Own a home twice the size of any I owned before. The list goes on and on. Money comes and goes as an issue. But good times never cease to appear. And I don't expect them to. I wake up everyday in expectation of good things, just an inner knowing that today is going to offer me and mine something incredible. Something to "Yippee!" about at least once or twice or three times. Today offered plenty. Yesterday too. Tomorrow won't be any different. In fact, being that it's my birthday, I'm expecting an even larger payload of good news to come my way.

Call it faith, hope, optimism... call it stupidity or foolish idealism. But if this is what being a fool feels like, I think I might just like being a fool. For it doesn't get much more ideal than this. And sure, I am very aware of the fact that my beautiful new wife and I do not currently possess the kind of money we desire or even need at present. And to that I say "baby please just try to hang on. Whatever it takes, we're gonna make it happen. I don't want you to "wait and see." I want you to "see it now." See how blessed we are. All around us, blessings. More blessings than we could possibly ever care to count. Feel how in love we are. My God are we blessed in love. Is there anything better than being blessed in love? Or being blessed to be in love? Our money will come. It always does. But love...? Well that's not something we can make happen no matter how hard we work. That's the wait and see game that can make even the richest person in the world feel miserable. But we no longer have to wait and see when it comes to love in our lives. We've got spilling out all over us from all sides. How lucky are we?

Well since I asked the question, I'll answer it. We're so darn lucky that I can guarantee you that as rich as we feel in the way of love we will soon be in the way of how much money we have. I can taste it. I hear it ringing in my ears. And I see it just behind my eyes when I close them to pray. We'll make our money Princess. There's no doubt about that. So let's enjoy this ride on the way to financial prosperity just as we did on our way to the alter. When in doubt, just close your eyes and say a little prayer. Not for money mind you. Because that's not really what you're looking for anyway. Pray for faith. Pray for our happiness. Pray for the world to become just a little bit safer and a little bit kinder and a little bit gentler. Have faith in it. All of it. If you do that, I promise you that no matter how much money we have or don't have on any one day or another, we'll have something much more valuable than all the money in the world. We'll have happiness. As we always have. Ever since we first laid eyes on each other. Is there any happier memory that either of us can recollect than that moment? And how big a part did money play in that? Exactly. It didn't. And truth be told, it shouldn't. Because our happiness didn't come from money. It wasn't dependent on money. Our happiness came from our meeting one another finally. After years and years of having money and still wanting. But we're not wanting any longer are we? How could we be? When in just a few hours we're about to once again wake up in each others' arms thanking God for this incredible gift called love. We can't buy that. And we don't have to try because it's right here with us, between us, surrounding us, within us. Love. Real love. Pure love. True love. And with this much love around me, I have all the faith I need and then some. So if you need a little now and then, I understand. Just hold me a little tighter and squeeze some out for yourself. I don't mind. The universe will make more. Good night my love. And good night my friends. Things may seem a bit rocky right now. But hold strong to your faith and I promise you that we will all be the happiest wealthiest bunch of fools that the world has ever known.