City of Legends

I was getting ready to post a heady essay I had just written on the nature of Christianity divorced from mythology.  It’s not bad, and it makes some valid points and I will eventually post it.

But…

It occurs to me my world is all but abstract to most of my readers.  They don’t know or see what is and isn’t happening in my sphere, so I am going to try harder to be more earnest and forthright on a personal level.  Nothing, God help us, against the poetry and the thought.  I just felt the need to connect as a human being.

A long time back I wrote a poem about such things, during the darkest days in Venice, where I despaired that so many women saw me as an abstraction that I was never going to find anyone to settle down with.  Half true to history, but the mystery of my second marriage and its eventual demise (that’s for another day) only tells a part of the tale.

Hi.  I’m William Francis DeVault.  I am 53 years old.  I was born August 16th, 1955, in Greenville, South Carolina, in the United States of America.  I have three children, two ex-wives, my parents are still alive, as are my four siblings. 

I am most often associated with Morgantown, West Virginia, where I came of age as a poet, and Venice Beach, California, where I feel the most at home and have written some of my best work.

My life, which seems exotic to many, seems rather average to me.  I have been places and done things that many have not, but not so much as some.  I have never jumped out of an airplane, fired a handgun, or been elected to public office.  I am above average in IQ and if my ethics and morals seem a bit hard to explain or understand, the key is simple:  I don’t always blame others or even try to justify my mistakes.  I have had several times in my life where I told a friend or lover that, should things go badly, they are to tell whatever tale gets them out as injury-free as possible, they can count on my silence.  Although I have been driven to near madness more than once when an unprincipled person takes that too well to heart, I have held up fairly well.

Despite my years, I still feel quite young.  I sometimes have to fight for that…but that’s okay.  I like feeling 17, especially with the experiences of this life to call upon (the old "If I knew then what I know now").  And before you begin to snicker know this:  The last woman I was with was my second wife, on February 12, 2004.  Prior to that I had not been with another woman since the summer of 1997.  So let’s lay aside the "can’t keep his pants zipped" assumptions.  They are ignorances and prejudices, two things that are not tools for the evolved mind or heart

I am passionate and sexual, but I have chosen to guard well my heart and soul this time, as I know I am passionate and sexual, and I am just gullible enough to allow myself to walk into disastrous situations with blinders on when lead by my hormones.  I still write about the joy of a woman’s body and presence, but until I find one trustworthy and just plain worthy, I think I will stay the dichotomous monk I have evolved into.

Yes, I have been connected with one or two women who were married in the past, but with one minor and notable exception (a long time ago), in every case I was lead to believe the situation was far more dissolved than it was.  Nothing quite like getting an angry call from an ex-husband who isn’t an ex-husband.  Have I allowed myself to be gullible because that was the most convenient thing for me to believe.  Yes.  Without a doubt.

My father, who is going to be 86 next month, was the best man at my first wedding.  He is still someone I love and admire.  At the time I did not have a male "best friend", so I gave him the job.  I hope he was touched.

Of late, I have four good male friends.  Friend is a hard word for me, as I have a brutal definition of friendship, having been quoted as saying "A friend is someone you can trust behind you with a sharp knife and a good reason".  I hope I will pass that test of character even with a stranger.  Of these four friends, two are fellow poets, one is a musician and one is my older brother, Robert.  We spent most of our lives at loggerheads, being the alpha pack dogs we were…it is nice we have learned to cooperate.

When I fall, I fall hard and completely.  Aubergine, the last woman I said "I love you" to, warned me that she wasn’t very good at relationships and I would fall from a great height.  I accepted the challenge and the fall was great and terrifying. I have empathy and sympathy for those who continue to dare to love and accept their fall.  I will see you on my next trip up the pillar and off the cliff.

My mother just turned 76.  She’s a firecracker.  We have lively political and religious debates, as I have drifted to the left of Al Franken over the years, she to the right of Dick Cheney.  I love her greatly.  I would not vote for her for President.

My children are joys to me.  My daughter, Peri, lives in Los Angeles with her husband, Brian.  He’s a good guy and they are good for each other.  She’s half me and half her mother, not always having gotten the best of us.  But I adore her like no one else in this life, even when she treats me like tick crap.

My sons, the sons of thunder, turn 16 in about a week.  Elric is so much like me as a teenager it is frightening, although Dante has some of my traits as well.  Between the two of them there’s enough energy, intellect and appetite for life to start a new civilization on a distant planet.  Of course, they’d need to find the right women, first.  Good luck.

Today is an ordinary day.  I am in the office, doing some work for a defense contractor, helping with some proposals and quality programs.  Not poetic, but it pays okay.  I’m worth a lot more than I am getting, but in this economy its good to hold onto a job.  The building we are in shuts down air conditioning on weekends.  It is about 2:20 in the afternoon, the sun is shining and you could wring my sweat out of my shirt.  Not ideal writing conditions.

Contrary to what I have heard, last summer’s illness was not self-inflicted.  I am violently opposed to that avenue.  But it did screw up my tour, my digestive system, my schedule, my overall health and physical conditioning.  Remind me to only eat at Taco Bells in my own neighborhood.

Well, I have meandered enough.  Thanks for taking the time to read.  Yes, I know there are a thousand unanswered questions.  Be patient.  We have time.

And if you know a nice woman who wants to be worshipped five hundred years from now as an icon of romance and passion, send her my way.