City of Legends

Delivered Elric to his new college at University of Hawaii at Hilo, Dante leaves for Old Dominion University in two days.

Still haven’t finished release of "Selected Poems and Passions"…don’t have the emotional stamina for it, with all else that’s going on.

Survived my birthday on the 16th…hundreds of well wishers, which still was not sufficient to overcome my funk for my Sunday Girl being out of touch.  I admit, wounding…but one embraces what one can and accepts the rest.

I have been writing, sporadically, but some good material.  I need to find a way to decouple my creative/emotional energies from the roller coaster ride of my lovelife…

My front license plate was stolen, right off my car, inconvenient.

Just staying busy, as best I can…feeling in a bit of a holding pattern.  Why is it that whenever I fall into the horse lattitudes that random women come out of the woodwork, seeking a position as new muse? 

Oddly enough, professionally and personally I am doing well…just feeling unmotivated to blog.

Elric and Dante both leave this month for college…I, personally, will be escorting Elric to the University of Hawaii at Hilo for orientation.  Poor kid, trapped for 4 years in paradise.

Dante is gearing up for Old Dominion University, he is majoring in Math with a minor in Physics.  He is giddy over getting into a true academic environment.

My relationship with the Sunday Girl remains strong, if complicated…in time I will tell you the tale and you will go "Huh?"

The delay in final release of the last book ( Selected Poems and Passions: 2004-2011 ) seem to be resolved, and it should ship in the next few weeks…

There are those who believe that Autism is a handicap, a disease brought on by vaccines, a natural evolutionary progression in the human genome, the result of flouride in drinking water, a variation in the brain that can be dealt with via proper environmental adjustments (including eliminating gluten from one’s diet), and/or a direct result of sonograms.

I don’t know which, if any, of these answers the questions.  I do believe it is not one issue, but several, just as (for instance) cancer is not caused by one thing and does not manifest itself just one way.

My son, Dante, in whom I am well pleased, has been diagnosed with an Autism Spectrum Disorder, most often referred to as PDD:NOS (Pervasive Development Disorder:  Not Otherwise Specified).  He thinks differently than your average person.  He feels things differently.  His response to emotional stimulus can be intense or none at all.  He has problems reading tones of voice and body language and facial expressions.  However, he is 15 and doing college level mathematics and is being actively recruited by dozens of high-end colleges from coast to coast.  In past years he would’ve just been considered a nerd or a geek, like both his mother and father were, and that would be the end of it.  But there is a greater understanding and perhaps an opportunity for Dante and others like him to have greater choice in their worldview and wiring.

Years ago, those who had these attributes would either find a way to blend into society or eventually be removed from it. I wonder how many potential Einsteins and Hawkings ended up in mental health maintenance facilities, their variant way of experiencing the world forcing them out of it?

He and I joke that he’s a space alien.  It’s a good working metaphor that he, I, and his fraternal twin brother can have fun with.  He’s wired a little differently that us normal humans, that makes him sometimes hard to understand or interferes in his ability to understand, but it also opens up a whole new layer of awareness if you try and see the world through his eyes.   I believe it is that one out of every 166 children born today have one of the Autism Spectrum Disorders.  If that figure has been consistent, just under reported, that means there are close to 2 million people with Autism in the United States today.

More than the number of people who live in West Virginia.

We need research to help find better ways to help those who are at the most debilitating points in the spectrum.  Dante is lucky.  He’s in a very good school system and has family that loves him and adapts to him while still keeping the pressure on to socialize and stay involved in the world (oh, and he’s a level 80 Human Paladin on World of Warcraft).  Many are not so lucky.  Some come from households where there are multiple siblings with Autism.

I read today an article on CNN about actress Didi Conn and her and her son’s struggles with PDDNOS.  The picture shows a young man with an earnest smile.  He looks a lot like a darker-haired version of Dante.

I know young people with Autism who call themselves "Autists" and take pride in their unique way of viewing and dealing with the world, often expressing it through their creativity.  Some applaud their sense of identity, some think it is wrong to embrace, I personally think that if it makes them happier and helps them deal with their unique challenges, so much the better.  And there are far, far worse peer groups to be a part of.

I love my son, completely and without reservation.  I embrace the fact that, while there was a time I was considered gifted in mathematics, he makes me look pale by comparison, and he’s only begun to shine.  I consider him remarkable.

Happy World Autism Day, Dante, and everyone.

If you’ve ever watched the film "Wanted" with James McAvoy, Angelina Jolie and Morgan Freeman?  McAvoy’s character achieves a sort of an epiphany in the course of the story, and the film ends with him addressing the change in his life.

I understand and relate to his words, even though I am not a man of violence, as his character becomes.  I’m not so much into the final line, but in the entire soliloquy, especially when he addresses taking back control of his life from all the corrupting and distracting elements that had always sought to manipulate, use and abuse him.

I always believed enough in myself, my intellect and abilities, to believe that I could walk into a random event and still come out the other side in a good position.  One of the best friends I ever had used to marvel at the fact that I had never stepped outside of society to live by my wits alone.  I didn’t have a good answer for him, aside from the fact that I had just always played within the confines of the game.

Some would call that cowardice, or a constellation of cowardices and fears.  Some would call it arrogance (believing that I could step into an existing framework and still win).  I don’t have a good answer to that.  Some have called me too passive, others too cruel.  Some think I am a bully, a victim, a hedonist or a saint.  Again, I can’t answer that question to the satisfaction of anyone, including myself.  Certainly the partial ignorances and arrogances of others drive their perception.  Knowing only what they themselves have seen or said or heard in rumour.  It is a source of occasional bemusement and constant annoyance to me.  The fact that I am, in some cases, proscribed from correcting false impressions due to a rather Gordian code of honor only makes the conflicts more vivid.  I know people in this world who despise me out of ignorance, but to correct those misconceptions would bring harm to others. 

My son, Elric, has recently taken to posing the question of who he is, of how he would be defined and perceived.  Not unusual when you are 15.  Not unusual when you lack the focus of the truly driven.  His twin brother, Dante, is more like a laser-beam in his drive to excel, academically, and thus has less time for self-contemplation.  There are times I think I, and certainly Elric, should envy him. 

I do think I have gotten a bit lazy, allowing forces and people around me to dictate my agenda.  While this seems just good manners to some, not wanting to create conflict, it also means I am operating well below the red line.  No one benefits in the long run when I sit in the back row.

So, I need to reach deep, tap in to those last few thermonuclear reactions at my core, and take control of my life and environment.  I need to take back control.  It won’t be easy.  It won’t necessarily be very popular with some.  But it is the thing that is necessary, for me not live as a hypocrite.

I am writing this, like most things, on the fly.  So, please, gentle reader, forgive me if I am incomplete in my thoughts and come back to it later.

I have always been fascinated by language.  It is almost a mystical thing for me, examining the words people choose to use, or choose not to use, and breaking that down for the meaning behind the expression of the thought.  My sons and I get a kick out of analyzing things written, said or unsaid, from time to time and the humour we find in the peculiarities of the English language is great, and we find great commonality on it.

I grew up all over the country, being an Air Force brat, and picked up a lot of touches of local slang in the process, but also was largely insulated from neighborhood slangs, which evolve almost like twinspeak (which my sons so ably demonstrated when they were toddlers) when there is an insulated sub-population that turns inwards for definition and concept.  The internet and cable TV has cut down in it, but not eliminated it.  And you even have phrases and words that evolve within a family or sub-familial unit.

Thus was born the immortal phrase, between myself and my sons, occasionally borrowed by my ex-wife,

"I gotta piss like a banshee"

which is very evocative, but also very peculiar.

On the surface it means "Out of the way, I’m heading for the restroom and will die if I don’t make it".  It is usually accompanied by a certain shrill, urgent tone and a facial expression that is nothing short of a grimace.

For those of you who never saw "Darby O’Gill and the Little People" (one of the first movies of any sort I recall seeing, and certainly the first Disney film I ever saw and absolutely the only romantic music-comedy with a mystical twist I have ever seen with a young, pre-Bond Sean Connery singing.  Yes, singing.  He’s the love interest to the titular character’s daughter.) or never played Dungeons and Dragons or never read classic horror literature, a banshee is a female spirit that appears as a warning of (or threat of) impending death and is known for her keening screech or wail.

How this term came to be, to "piss like a banshee", I have my theories and vague recollections.  I have a tendency to mix metaphors (you can only absorb so much information before it gets jumbled and overlaid (I could make a run on that word)) and I am sure at some point, trying to dodge the obstacle course that my sons can be when they are sprawled on the family room floor, consuming oxygen and Doritos while playing video games, on my way to the restroom, I said something to the effect of "Come on, move it, I gotta piss like a…(wait for it, searching for random metaphor)…banshee".

I am sure, knowing his sense of humour, Dante pounced on it.  Elric would have been two seconds later, but more expressive, something like this:

Me:  I gotta piss like a banshee.

Dante:  What?

Elric:  Should we cover our ears?

Me:  What?

Elric:  So we don’t hear the screaming.’

Dante:  Dissolves into spasmodic laughter.

Me:  I didn’t say I was going to piss "on" a banshee, but "like".  (pausing a beat)  But it is an interesting image, I gotta write this down.

My bladder:  Come on guy, move it unless you wanna find out what it’s like to explode like a very wet fragmentation grenade.

And thus a whole new phrase entered the lexicon.  Innocently enough, but I am certain that years from now, when language experts ponder the use and image of a pissing banshee being used to open the State of the Union Address in 2047, people will want to know how and where it started.

Thus endeth the lesson.  I have to piss like a banshee, cover your ears.

Not the best of days, as my mind seems to be focused on the half-empty aspects of life today (must be this bloody headache).

I have fallen desperately in love with someone willing to shout their love from the top of the world’s highest mountains, put out an excellent book and am about to put out a CD, and my primary website has undergone a transformation. Pluses.

The aforementioned love, you also edited, wrote the foreword to and served as cover model for the book seems to have taken a powder. The CD has been an arduous task in times of a broken heart and failing health and I can’t easily maintain my website as I am not familiar yet with the technology (WordPress) the aforementioned lady converted me to. Minuses.

But, I am alive, writing, thinking and feeling. I have met some of the most extraordinary people I have ever known in this life in the last few months (it seems when I implode, the world follows) and have written some of my best works ever in that same timeframe. I am limping, but triumphant. Or is that triumphant, but limping? Depends on your worldview.

In any case, so far, life is okay. Far from perfect, but what would I have to write about then?

My boys had a nice birthday yesterday. We capped the evening by going to an iMax showing of The Dark Knight at the Smithsonian’s Udvar-Hazy Center. Impressive. Not sure I would review it as the be-all, end-all of cinema, as some seem intent on doing, but it is a good popcorn movie with some excellent, deep and even troubling performances. Yes, Heath Ledger pulls off an amazing transformation. Academy Award? Probably, but at least a bit of that vote will flow from those who wish to recognize the fact that he will not get a chance to build on his performance.

Elric and Dante both got the video games they craved. Their sister came in to see them and they are all taking a vacation to Virginia Beach. I will have some dark times in my solitude, dark times that will serve as the coffee filter of my soul to help me write and compose.

The TVC2008 submissions are closed. The CD engineering is done. I have had to cut back my public appearances, thanks to health issues, but will still make some major appearances.

So far, so good.

Today my sons, Dante and Elric, turn 15. I will be taking them to see The Dark Knight on the iMax screen at the Udvar-Hazy Center of the Smithsonian. They are pumped. As a combined present to them and their sister, Peri, their mother and I flew Peri in and surprised the boys yesterday. It is fun watching teenaged boys trying to act cool when they are surprised, taking all their low-key poses.

Today is the final day for submissions to the TVC2008 video contest (see above). If you haven’t started your project, you are probably too late. Next year, more lead time and bigger prizes, I promise. This has been mishandled by me. Thanks to those who have submitted and there will be an award on August 16th.

I have been pondering the logistics of the new version of williamfdevault.com. I was thinking of making it in two stages of 50-100 poems each, but have decided that is too complicated and grandiose and boring (to me). So, starting this Wednesday, July 23, you will start seeing slow, subtle changes on that site as the new works (and some old ones) and the art and photography begin to flow like vodka and Red Bull at an all-night disco. I want to thank the dozens of artists, photographers and models who have entertained the notion. I only received two rejections, and both were heart-breaking (it is a fragile thing, patched as it is) I found some amazing people who I trust will not only contribute to this effort, but will be my friends for many years to come.

I have much to do today, and it only gathers momentum as the days and weeks fly by. So, I am off to Ka Latil to do what I am expected to do.

The day between two events I often refer to as being in the horse latitudes, an old sailing phrase for being in the area of the oceans near the equator where the winds are not as dependable as most places and you can find yourself becalmed.

Not for me.  This morning I got up at 4 am and picked up my daughter at the airport for a week’s visit.  I finished (I swear) the final engineering on Evangelist (a re-envisioning of Eros V which I am calling Eros V2, making a little joke).  I cleaned up my vocals and added percussion.  I did not touch Selke’s backing vocals, as they are flawless.  And that strange instrument you hear that sounds like a piano and a guitar mixed together?  That’s exactly what that is, piano music shoved through filters to make it sound more like guitar music.  It is rather unusual, but it works.

In a few hours I have to go spend several hours prepping a proposal…tomorrow is the boys’ birthday (they turn 15) and we are going to a late showing of The Dark Knight.

I also picked up a few more models today!  Yay!  Next week I get to figure out who is doing what duty, but I can assure you that you will be blown away.  I even found a few who may end up replacing the original faces I used on the old version of williamfdevault.com.

Hey, that’s my option.  I have decided I need to do what’s best for those who are engaged in my life.

 The drive to see my parents (I am in to actually see my 95 year old Grandmother, who is in failing health) is always an interesting time, as it allows me buffered time to think out loud.  Usually I get a lot of thinking and writing and sonic experimentation on the 3-1/2 hour trip.

This morning was no exception.  It started as a ramble, dealing with lyrical issues on the new Evangelist CD, but then segued into an examination of my life over the last year.  A lot has happened, many events and elements I could not have foreseen.  Some gentle, some brutal.

All in all, I have come to a conclusion.  This is one of the best years of my life.  

I have reconnected with old friends I had no expectation of ever hearing from again.  I have taken public stands on the issues of the day, been recognized for these stands, and made connections with people who have the power to affect things.  I have loved openly and with abandon a woman who loved me in the same manner.  I have broken some bad habits, written some great poetry, recorded some interesting material to posterity, helped a few friends get elements of their lives in order, saved at least two lives (according to the individuals) and published a remarkable book.  I’ve learned new words and concepts, examined my own failings and picked splinters from my metaphorical ass.

There have been some downer days and strange pains, but when the scales are weighed, I have to say that if every year was as remarkable as this one, I would be the luckiest man alive.  Most people do not live as much and as well in an entire lifetime as I have lived this past year.

I thank all of you who have shared this voyage with me, from the most vocal of friends to the saddest stalkers.  From the constant to the mercurial, from the inspiring to the oppressive.  From those who will still be a part of my life next year and for years and decades to come, to those who have now passed back into the grey.  

I thank you all with profound and spiritual gratitude and wish only to say that, while I compiled a massive list of names to include here, I shall not.  Some secrets are best kept.  While I won’t lie to you, I will withhold that which would force others harm or pain.

I have some great ideas now to finish up those damn final tracks on Evangelist, and am looking forward to tomorrow with great hope, joy and peace.

I have no quarrel with any of you.  If you have with me, that is a measure of you, not me.  Being loved and respected is not a measure of a person, loving and respecting others is.

Namaste.

If you were sitting in my family room right now, watching me dance at the keyboard, you’d probably figure out pretty quickly that, despite the fact I am wearing my earbuds, I am listening to Morris Day and the Time performing Jungle Love.  The moves are obvious.

But I am not here to talk about my sublimely masterful footwork.  Nope.  I am just here to say good evening and lay out the schedule as I see it over the next few weeks or so.

I am postponing a final decision on the tracks for Evangelist for two weeks.  This will hem in the production schedule, but it’s my work so I get final say.

No new book until next Spring, if then (we all know how I suck at keeping those promises), tentatively entitled Return of the Ronin.  Of course, I like the title so much I might steal it for a CD.  We shall see.

I am going to spend next week in California.  It was supposed to be this early in the year or solo, but I have ample offers for company and I will not be bored.  I will not be reading in California.  Under my own name.  In any place you’d think to look for me.  Ha!

Thanks to the lovely lady in the poodle skirt for helping me get my head on straight, and I would be remiss if I did not credit the amazing Karla Sasser for her updates form the City Streets Music Festival in Birmingham for helping me keep balanced.

Please, be thinking of the people in Iowa, battling the floods, and those who will continue to be displaced and challenged by our own folly in neglecting the climate until practically too late.  The truth is the Hell on Earth we have manifested in foreign lands seems to be coming home to roost. 

I may be taking on a new crew of proteges.  More on this, perhaps, later.  I am tired and have a busy few days ahead of me.

The boys, with their mother’s help, gave me a nice Father’s Day dinner.

I am back. Just on my own terms and for my own purposes. A couple-few things you need to keep in mind as you visit here.

• I am not a blogger. I am a poet and a diarist, no doubt, but not a blogger. I have been dragged, kicking and screaming, into the widget-driven blogosphere, where traffic seems to be more important than content, intent or legacy. I don’t pimp well, never have, and don’t plan to start now. There are some brilliant bloggers (check the list to the right for at least one). I ain’t one of them.
• I still think my son Dante will one day get a Nobel in Math or Physics. I was scary at his age. He makes me look pathetic.
• I am supposed to be taking a nap right now. Ha! I will sleep when I am dead.
• I have a new EJ. She’s doing fine. Don’t bug her too much. I’m not sleeping with her, I don’t plan to sleep with her and unless she is a liar of the twelfth degree, she has no romantic designs on my heart or loins. Let’s keep it that way. She will be doing an interview with me soon, so if you have any incredibly intrusive questions, email them to her at trojanhearse@cityoflegends.com
• I am not yet unmade to ronin. That is not my decision to make, nor would I have it be. All my shattered pieces are, as yet, whole.
• I am still writing, writing like a breached dam. I am writing aloud as I drive, unable to catch the sweat and tears of my demons and angels as they fall. I need a hobby.
• I love my daughter Peri and am hoping for her to come visit next month.
• I am still planning to move to LA. I see three variant scenarios that would keep me from that…one involves my death.
• The video contest is on. The Evangelist CD will get back on track when I have some answers. The tour is fluidic but there. The readings I have already done this week and will be doing this weekend are in preparation for it. I am regaining my edge, signified by my change in eye wear, my haircut and my new shoes (Ruth Solomon, a shout out to one of my favourite poets of all time, I would crawl on my buttocks to get to tour with you again).
• I am not sick or dying. Sorry. I know there are a lot of people whose lives would get simpler if I did croak. No such luck. You have any idea how few people can afford platinum-jacketed silver bullets that have crosses carved into them, have been dipped in garlic and Holy water and then irradiated with Gamma rays while being held between the thighs of a redheaded virgin for six months? Not many. I actually had some health concerns. I spoke to a doctor. He said sleep, eat better and stop worrying so much and (since he knows me) write.
• I like pie (a shout out to my son Elric).
• I have made some stupid mistakes in the last few weeks, years and decades. I think I have offered my apologies to everyone I can without creating problems for certain parties ("Yeah, you don’t know me, but I slept with your wife a few years ago and I just wanted to…what? She didn’t tell you? Ooops…what number is this?"). That is a statement of my character.
• I have made some new friends, and if I seem to be hanging away from where I used to hang it is for several reasons, not the least of which are these cool new friends. I may be pimping out someone else’s works soon. I’m better flying second slot for people than I usually am selling myself.

So there it is, in a nutshell. Now go…watch TV or hug your kids or read a book. That remind me, I need to update the store. Gheez…my work is never done.