"although I know that's an absurd thought…"-Schoolhouse Rock

Yesterday, all functions shut down. It's been a long week and my body couldn't even marshal the energy to raise the white flag of surrender, it sagged in the office chair like a half empty blow up doll. Not that I'm familiar with the half empty blow-up doll; I told you, I'm a optimist: my blow-up doll is half full.

When I'm tired, the part of my brain that connects free association trains, stops discriminating. Suddenly, Dora the Explorer and a Girls Gone Wild ad lock together and writhe down a metal track to a brick wall. Flash Gordon, and Animal Planet, The Munsters and Predator, Entourage and Lost, nothings sacred in the conjunction junction of a tired mind.

Sometimes it's "Misery Business" and "Baseball Bugs":

The first one is a video for the Paramore song "Misery Business" the second the old Warner Bros. cartoon "Baseball Bugs." Watch the video. No, I'm not making fun of her Stevie Wonder bob, although the closed eye thing is kinda funny. No what we're looking for is about 35 seconds in. Ok, now go to the bugs bunny cartoon. Bump it in about 40 seconds and watch for the scre—ok, you can watch the whole thing first. Sigh…nobody can ever get enough Bugs. Done? Ok, now go to 40 seconds, watch the screaming baseball. Now screaming girl, baseball—girl—coincidence?

This are the hobos that catch my train of thought. So my most recent train is pulled by the locomotion of divorce, I shouldn't be surprised that everything hops a car here. Still, who connected the Rocky, Rocky II, Rocky III, and Rocky IV cars?

I'm working, and I guess October 31st is not only Halloween, it marks the end of "Rocktober." Yeah, and I thought my free association was out of kilter. If you were raised on classic rock radio, this term means something completely different to you. It's a month filled with "Twofer Tuesdays" and endless hours of "Get the Led Out." So to associate it with Sylvester Stallone is the same as mixing orange juice into your toothpaste. Give it a shot, don't look in the mirror though, if you surprise yourself with that warped grimace, your face will stay that way forever. At least that's what my grandmother used to say.

So What does the Balboa Express have to do with my divorce? Two words:

Yo Adrian.

In the first movie, she's just this little mousy thing; cute in a "needs a lot of work" kind of way. You wouldn't think that Rocky would have time to dedicate the type of attention she needs, while vying for the belt and beating on slabs of dead cow, but he finds it. That's dedication. By the time we get to Rocky III she's a whole new woman.

This Adrian is the only one who can slap around Rocky and show him his own heart. She knows her Rock, and she doesn't want to live with any man who can't clobber Clubber, or at least face him man to Mohawk.

She reaches Rocky in ways that Apollo can't. At least not until The Brokeback flashback episode in "Rocky 3.5" (you don't really think they were fighting in that at the end of the movie do you? Those closing punches were just foreplay.), but more than that, she's taken time to understand his psyche. Granted a psyche that size could be done over a cup of coffee, but she took the time to drink that cup. That's what's important.

Watching her yell at Rocky on the beach, I knew I'd rather face him in the ring than her. Especially if her family was at stake. Rocky might kick my butt, but she'd shred me like pork and probably throw on some good BBQ sauce and feed me to her family for lunch.

Yo Adrian: This time it's personal!

Still, it's what Rocky needed. She knew him, and sitting in my chair I felt the tingle of despair. A finger tapping on my shoulder.

"See? That's what you never had and never will."

Thanks.

I love it when my wounded psyche crawls out of my body to point out life's highlights.

The thing that draws me, is her concern is for her family. She doesn't want him to fight. She worries about him, but she knows what he'll become if he quits this way, with Mr. T. owning his soul like another piece of fake gold swinging from around his neck. She puts the needs whole over her immediate desires. It the most unselfish thing I've seen. That's what works in their relationship. Rocky and Adrian lift each other up, and in the Balboa cars become well oiled, stronger. That's what it's supposed to be.

Somewhere in my marriage that failed. Who slipped the track first? I don't know, I'm still on the divorce caboose, and that car is too far up the front. I saw the sparks and the burning jack-knifed accordion train of events, but never the source. Somebody in the train yard threw our cars together, but didn't check the linkage,

Maybe someday I'll find an Adrian car that locks in and stays tight. One that remembers that alone we're inert baggage storage, but together we're locomotion. You and I, we're fueled by each other to be the best train in the world. No matter what other free cars latch on to us. That's what holds the train together. That's what I need to stay on track.