City of Legends

 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.

It took more than one take (that’s an understatement), but after a long hard day being an essential cog in the American Military-Industrial Complex, I spent a substantial time yesterday putting the finishing touches on yet another track for Evangelist:

as linen frames your sleeping form (click on the title to read the poem at Amomancer)

Arguably one of the more erotic poems in As such… and I think we did it justice, just had to bleed off some over-emotional inflection in my voice (dammit) that rendered me all but inarticulate at a few points. (I asked my friend Thomas when I might expect this tendency to end when trying to read works about, er, from that book and he said "If you were human, a few months…you? Never. Get used to it." Bastard.)

But I finally got the takes I need (Yes, what you will hear when the CD is released is actually an amalgam of three different readings). It’s a short, acoustic piece, but it has a nice punch to it and will settle in well with its brethren. I have decided to set an arbitrary deadline of June 14th (Ann’s 10th anniversary clean date) for the tracks for the CD, so if Jazz and Jezika™ don’t get their assignments in by then, I will just go around them (I am patient, but not infinitely so, as some may attest).

I see where Hillary won Puerto Rico convincingly. Not that it will do her any good. The boys in the back room have decided that a woman’s place is not at the top of the ticket, being the prejudicial, half-wit, sexist, chauvinist pigs that they are. I think the Democratic Party is ricking losing the affection of about 50% of the electorate in one blood-curdlingly stupid move. Four more years of Republican rule. Not that John McCain is a bad guy, but his stepping up means a lot of the policies of quite possible the worst President we’ve ever had will be continued.

Here’s the studio vocals for I rained poetry, my collaboration with Jezika™.

http://www.peacat.com/IRPraw.mp3

You may find it a little intense for my usual readings, but I am working up to a small, self-contained fusion reaction.

You’d find me a comic figure right now, my skin blotchy red and purple, my hair definitely of the bedroom hair category, barefoot, dressed in black from head to toe. Dancing to All Over the World by Strange Fruit. I Niacin-loaded just a bit ago, the first time in a while. I needed to get back on my regimen, my patterns that had proved successful in the past. Note, flowers to Blairgowrie don’t work.

The flush caused by proper overdose of niacin just helps to flush the capillaries, cleanse the cardiac palette and deliver the other arcane chemicals, oils, minerals and vitamins I have developed as "my mixture" more efficiently. The flush itches like a bitch, but that’s just a side-effect that tells you it is working. Like fire ants with chainsaws. Yikes! Don’t tell me to use the time-release. I want the loadburn.

Coming on the speakers now: Don Henley and All She Wants to Do is Dance (it makes me think of you know who, out stylin’ the night away. I am glad she finds joy in that…) My playlists are minefields, but so is life.

I wrapped up two variant readings of I rained poetry and shipped them off to the Jezika™ this morning. Here’s hoping one is to her pleasure. Take one down, 1,473 still left for the weekend. 1,473 bottles of absinthe on the wall…I sing.

The usual peaceful-if-intense detente state that has existed in my head for many years has been moving towards a shooting war of late, but once recognized, a chaos state is not a problem, it is an opportunity. I am still writing obsessively. I am keeping just ahead of the madness…just ahead. U2 gives me Vertigo. Thanks, guys.

Some have noted that the widget on Amomancer for selling my books through Amazon contains seven of my books, but not "As such…". Read nothing sinister into that…Amazon has just not put up the cover yet. As soon as they have it available, it goes in the rotation. That is the most important book I have ever written, with the most beautiful cover (and foreword)…I am not the bastard some would think me to be. Yes, I said the most important.

Note: Four years, 3 months, 12 days. I made a promise. I am no longer lashed to the third rail. That was unseemly. This has to be a test of will, not the strength of a strap’s thickness. I am holding on by will alone, now. I dreamt last night, a beautiful dream in white and bright lights and daisies with a soundtrack provided by Enigma. I am at peace with the storm. I sleep in the arms of chaos and kiss the fire. This is life. Pleasure and pain, smiles and the saline rain, I would live it again if offered. I have promised the next dance already, so I guess I have to.

You can write it, or you can live it. Or both. I am sorry for and to those who are discomfited, hurt, stressed or put off by my ways of thinking, expressing myself and living (and loving). Truly. But I am who I am and in the balance, a greater force for good than evil.

My life. It is my life to make of it what I choose.
I will win, and lose
and smile more often than not.
Courage will give me hope. Hope will give me
strength. And strength
will give me the courage to seek new truths.

Those lines open my poem "My Life". I may make mistakes, but I don’t rewrite my histories, deny my heart or refuse a request for help. I once told a lover I’d take a bullet for her. And for any member of her family. And for anyone she asked me to, even an ex. I don’t know if she understood. Maybe that’s what drove the wedge between us, I know it used to piss of my second wife.

I have things to do, people. Love to all. Special love to one, she knows who she is.

With the brain-curdling strains of Nutbush City Limits featuring the Ike and Tina Turner Review blasting holes in my eardrums, the evening rolls close to an end. An interesting day, to say the least, full of adventure, distractions and accomplishments.

Jezika™ and I finally selected the poem she is going to lay the techno magic to. I told her if it comes out well, it will be the opening bit to the tour. That’s right, the psychedlic kid has chosen (or as she put it, she fell in love with) "I rained poetry" to give the rave treatment to. Let’s see what it summons. Excitement.

Halfway through working on some technical details this evening I got a text message from Karla (The Mad Gypsy) Sasser, taunting me about the fact that she was texting from a concert in Birmingham, featuring Sheryl Crow and Shawn Mullins. Not a huge Mullins fan, but since Sheryl is my second alternate back-up wife if and when Candy grows tired of my antics, I should have been there.

The new poem "the rise of bragi" has spawned some interesting emails. Good. People, you have no idea what’s about to happen, do you? Me neither, but I know the bend of the light when gravity warps. We be ready for Gotterdamerung. It’s a simple equation, think of the human mind like an athlete’s body, you burn the immediately available fuels in the first portion of the marathon, becoming tired and achy and weary. Then, when you think you can’t take another step, the body flips a switch and the near-nuclear energy of secondary sources comes gushing out as your body becomes actually more efficient It’s called second wind or second kick. When I get really, really beat down, my brain does the same feat of prestidigitation. I spelled that right on the first try. Wow.

Thin Lizzy’s The Boys Are Back in Town just rose from the depths of my iTunes selection and drove red-hot razor-sharp steel barbs into my skull. Fun! The cat is hiding. Coward.

Everyone on your feet, The Z, Warren Zevon, is now pumping Werewolves of London…ahhhwoooooooooooo!

I have to go…the moon is full.

Good news: Now that they have rebalanced her electrolytes and gotten her fever down, Grandma is feeling better and is much more lucid.

Bad news: She now wants to go back to living alone. And she’s asking questions I don’t have answers for. Sheesh.

For sale or trade: One life, well-used, high mileage but with most of the original equipment (missing only heart, soul and cajones).

In less bizarre corners, I think I have found the perfect poem for the Jezika™ project.

Since all of my other collaborations are on hold indefinitely (now you know why I am usually a solo act) I have fallen in cahoots with extremely gifted techno-dance-musical artist Jezika™ for a song project, utilizing my words and her sounds (yes, that’s her. yes, she’s very pretty, why do you ask?).

I will let you know how it turns out, but anyone interested in hearing (and seeing) more of this very talented young woman need only hit her MySpace page at http://www.myspace.com/jezikajunglemonkey

Don’t worry, all, I am keeping one hand firmly lashed to the third rail of the one in whom I trust whose name must not be said because you all are tired of hearing it.

Jezika and I are still discussing what poems or poems to adapt, but this is my first time in a while working with a musical collaborator, and I hope it comes off well. Who knows? I might have to take her on the road this fall!