OMGabe

by Gabe Berman – the author of Live Like a Fruit Fly

Archive for the category “love”

GOD IS GOOD?

Is God good?

Well, I found a blue, LIVESTRONG type bracelet saying GOD IS GOOD lying lost, or maybe flung to the floor, of a handicapped parking space.

This sums up, and maybe for some, even answers the question.

Maybe God isn’t good. Or isn’t bad.

Maybe, God just is.

Or then again, isn’t.

Who’s to know?

-gb

www.WinTheWarWithYourMind.com

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La La Love


“And how amazing was La La Land,” I asked my friend on the phone last night while we were going back and forth about movies.

To my surprise, she said with surprise, “You liked La La Land!?”

“No,” I said with confidence. “I loved it. It’s probably one of my favorites ever.”

“I just didn’t feel Emma Stone in that part,” she explained.

“I hear ya, but I wouldn’t have cared if she was played by a goddamn rhinoceros. It was the way he loved her. That’s all that mattered to me. I couldn’t breathe from him.”

And with that, right there, as I heard myself say those words, I figured out why I loved La La Land so much.

We think we miss being loved. But the truth is, we miss giving love more.

At least that’s the way it is me.

love/thanks,
gb

www.WinTheWarWithYourMind.com

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They Say It’s My Birthday 


Get yourself or a loved one a present for my birthday: 

Do You Love Love?

As gently and lovingly possible, a father just cupped the back of his young daughter’s head with his open palm. 

She’ll never remember this tender moment.  

And he might forget. 

But I’ll remember forever for both. 


(what does love look like?)



Gabe Proof Through The Night

Alone I sat on the beach again.

Alone I sat, but in a huge crowd, as the Fourth Of July fireworks illuminated the night sky.

And on the drive home, I thought about why we all crave to be in love.

Crave it like junkies in withdrawal.

I think it’s because being in love is the only thing that can rival the feeling of being young.

Because when you’re in love, and I mean cosmically coordinated, quantumly entangled, unconditionally expressed, star crossed love, time loses all relevance. The years behind you become a concept. An illusion.

And the present moment becomes bright and attention grabbing like it’s been filtered in Photoshop.

Of course in the car tonight, I also let myself lie naked in the center of the massive crater left behind by the absence of my dad.

If I were anymore heartbroken, I’d cease.

Totally cease.

As for right now, I’m sitting in his seat at the dining room table, listening to Kind Of Blue by Miles, and the only thing I can think to do is send him love.

I have enough, more than enough, for you as well.

with gratitude,
gb

Your loved ones will love this from you: Love Looks Like This

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Can We Handle The Truth?

In thirty-nine minutes, it’s my dad’s birthday.

Harold Berman.

He would have been seventy-four.

If he hadn’t gotten sick, I’d probably be in Florida right now. And I’d call him tomorrow, like nine hundred times, to wish him happy birthday.

But I flew back to New York the day he was diagnosed. And here I remain. For now.

I still hear him in the back of my head. As clear as ever. Behind my ears. As I always have.

Not in words exactly, but in silent feelings. I can feel his feelings. And they guide me through decisions and situations. Although, obviously and unfortunately, I can’t call him after the fact anymore.

And I hate that.

Hate.

When I was young my dad told me I shouldn’t use the word “hate” because it’s too strong of a word.

Well dad, I really mean it this time.

More so than I ever.

Because all I can do is sit here, listening to Brubeck – your favorite, while writing to a few good people who are now reading these words.

So what would you like me to pass on to them?

You’d often say there are three sides to every story – my side, your side and the right side. The truth.

So, what’s the truth here?

It feels like, behind my ear, the truth is that only love is real.

But maybe that’s good-ol-fashion bullshit.

Because the fear, and greed, and evil in this world, sure as hell seems just as real.

Wait.

Ahh, I got it.

I can hear you more clearly now dad.

Love might not be the only thing that’s real, but it’s certainly the only thing that matters.

And I love you.

Beyond.

And miss you.

Excruciatingly so.

And I love you too, dear readers, for being here with me in this moment.

I’m truly grateful for you – and that’s the truth as well,
gb

Happy Birthday Dad.

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Roy G. Biv

Aggressively, I pulled over to the side of road like a cop on Cops and jettisoned out of my car like it was about to explode – super nova style.

Everything was cool though. It’s just that I saw a rainbow that seemed CGI. Completely computerized. Luminous, crisp and perfect.

And this is right around the time you ask, “Gabe, are you really taking up my time to talk about a goddamn rainbow?!”

No.

Well, yes and no.

I wouldn’t have written a word about if I hadn’t received multiple texts from a few friends as I clicked pics of the overhead magnificence.

A few lovely people in my life wanted to make sure I wasn’t missing out on such a transcendent site. Because they know that’s what I’m all about – noticing beauty in between the shit.

And just the fact that a few people were looking up at the same time, in awe, and thought to share it with me and god knows who else, almost moved me to tears.

It’s just too damn beautiful.

Especially with the new Paul Simon album in my headphones as I write this.

He just sang, “I trade my tears to ask The Lord for proof of love. If only for the consolation of gazing at the stars above…I ask The Lord for proof of love. Love is all I seek. Love is all I seek.”

Prayer answered. Right in those texts.

And I am so very grateful for them.

In this moment, all I am is gratefulness.

thank you, so much, for sharing this moment with me,
gb

Get my new book, Love Looks Like This

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Lets Do The Time Warp…Again

It’s 10:52 PM on a Saturday night and an old man is sitting all alone at Starbucks and it’s breaking my heart.

But then again, it’s 10:52 PM on a Saturday night and here I sit, all alone as well.

I’m pretty okay though.

And I hope he is too.

Maybe he’s me in the future?

If so, I hope there’s someone, somewhere, who truly loves him.

this is what your mom wants for Mother’s Day (she called me last night and told me):
Love Looks Like This

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My True Love

It burns like a bitch.

Suntan lotion in the eye.

The worst.

But yesterday it stung sweetly.

Because it’s a sign of the upcoming summer.

Ahh, summer.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

Is there anyone in your life who is simply in love with love? Love Looks Like This

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Me Too

  

pick up my lovely little books here:

www.livelikeafruitfly.com

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