City of Legends

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.

I was wondering how my energy levels would be this evening, with the food poisoning and jet lag.  So, I spun up my iTunes and meandered.  (Hint:  The cat has booked an emergency evacuation route with the Martians)  I hit John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown Band (Hey, I did not name them), better known to many as "Eddie and the Cruisers" and lit the fuse on On the Darkside.

That’s better.  I’m alive. 

I have been writing.  A lot.  Partially to purge the very ions of my irony and part to express those things that rage me major, with a little bit of amomancy thrown in to let you know that I am alive and well and resting comfortably, surrounded by the fire golems of my own defense mechanisms (you think I don’t have defense mechanisms?  you have no idea…).  I’ll leak some of the works over the next few days, here and at the Amomancer blog.

Joan Osborne is serenading me with One of Us, soon to be followed by Let’s Just Get Naked, which actually sounds like a great idea.  I should have gone camping this weekend. 

To recap my vacation:  After being compelled to take a week off.  Compelled, I swear.  I found myself helping my beloved daughter and her husband identify a worthy apartment for them to move to (they were looking to downsize after losing a room mate).  The very same first evening where we found a good spot, I was stricken with the worst case of food poisoning I can recall having had and was basically bedridden for 72 hours, except when I could peel myself out of bed to take Peri around to collect and turn in various paperwork for the apartment management.

This meant not getting to have lunch with a few select friends (food is the enemy), heading out to the high desert to commune with the desolation (it was up to 117 in the Valley, imagine what it was like in Joshua Tree?).  But it did mean I was forced to rest, to eat moderately healthy and to watch a lot of reruns on television while trying to decide which end of me would rather serve as the great egress for my spleen.

I tossed a coin and my body decided to keep that minimally-required organ for now.

I read a lot of email from well-wishers.  Some of them clever, naughty people whom I am greatly grateful for in my life.  I tend to be too grave and serious and the occasional ball of fire is what is needed to keep me from sinking into my own miasma.  Don’t get me wrong, I am who I am, but after a recent run of near-mortal wounds, something less like nuclear fusion is called for.  I love burning at my temperature, but haven’t yet found anyone else who can live in that sphere, and I get tired of talking to myself.

Running through a medley of Prince works right now.   The cat has requested refugee status in Myanmar.

It was hot yesterday, and we are due for a reprise today. I jet out late this evening. I have had an interesting time, the heat…the food poisoning, these were not great…but spending so much time with Peri and getting to do some background research on some of the mindgames being played on the web, that was entertaining.

On more pleasant fronts, here is one of the first official entries in the TVC2008 contest, which caught my attention:

That’s no typo. It was 114 degrees in the San Fernando Valley yesterday. And by reports it is that hot today.

Smelting steel on your car hood, anyone?

The food poisoning is facing, although I am left with some temporary infirmities that I am working around. I adapt, as anyone who actually knows me will tell you. I am sort of like the description that the android Ash gives of the facehugger alien after serious scientific analysis in the movies Alien:

Well, it’s an interesting combination of elements making him a… tough little son-of-a-bitch.

Barb, it has been said before…wounds are possible. Death? Unproven.

I am getting stronger. Not happy with the aches and pains and inconveniences, but maybe this was God’s way of a) making sure I did keep to my promise to modify my diet and b) get me to rest. Maybe food is now my enemy? That would be interesting.

Spent some time this morning with Peri. In fact, I have spent time with her every day since Tuesday. It has been nice. I picked up some new running shoes and got back to walking. Brutal, in my condition, but I have been easy on myself on several fronts and I am not going to hurl myself into the teeth of the world in anything less than full battle condition.

Any idea how much ice-cold lemonade hurts on a bruised stomach lining? Ouch.

Tomorrow evening I lift back to the DC suburbs. On Sunday I will complete the engineering on Evangelist and announce the final track list. Those who owed me tracks and don’t get them in by them? Screw em. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to keep moving, leaving others behind. I will see if they get something into me later worthy of release, but not on this CD.

I don’t know, based on the medical prognosis, if the damage done by the food poisoning will impact my stamina for the tour. We shall see over the next few weeks.

Happy Birthday, Peri!

I was very tempted to stay in Los Angeles. Very. It would have meant leaving some things and some people behind, I don’t do that. I may not enjoy the role always, but I’m the guy who is supposed to hold the collapsing mine shaft open so the maximum number of people can escape. The concept of saving myself is difficult for me. I’ve done it, but I’ve always felt terrible afterwards and tried to make amends…and tried to do better the next time. Another of those promises. Ohana. I texted it when I thought of it.

The read was good. Very good. There was only a handful in attendance and we held it indoors due to the raging heat (it was in the nineties). I wasn’t 1000% satisfied, and I don’t think I could’ve gone that far for strangers, but it played well and I said what I had to say and I even sang (a’capella which, as Father Guido Sarducci used to say, means "without hats") "I love you more than gods can comprehend".

I may keep that in the tour. Definitely a crowd pleaser (not my voice, God knows, but the purity of it all). Rough on me, but the people are there to see the matador get gored. Don’t think I would keel over on stage, but that would make a great legacy moment.

I got to speak with Peri last night. We mostly talked about the casting of Robert Downey in Iron Man and Marvel Studios’ master plan. I kept getting texted by a friend whose long-distance relationship was crumbling and was losing her mind, perhaps even contemplating suicide. I finally lost patience with her and told her to do what she thought best. Atlas gets tired of people complaining about backache.

The trip, on the whole, went well. Guerrilla reading in New York, the SLC read and then the Long Beach "As such…" reading (I had forgotten how powerful that was…although I did not read the forewords (laughing)). Thanks to everyone who assisted and insisted. Thanks to Karla, Jenn and Sabrina for the emotional support, Jazz for the irony and Vox for not taking pictures.

Later today I start a special training diet to help prep me for the tour. I need to focus harder, work harder and continue my vocal exercises (I do a few things a few hours before each read: I sing the Three Stooges’ "Alphabet Song" to tighten my elocution (I am not kidding), recite a couple of the key works I will be doing in that reading, and sing Don Henley’s "Heart of the Matter" to burn off excess emotion). I need to make some key decisions about the reading list for the tour…I may do a reading book…a pdf of the works I can then pick from for each read, print off a copy for each different event and annotate it as I see fit.

God, but I need laid (did I just say that out loud?). Karla found out about my vow of celibacy and, being aware of my appetites asked "What is up with that?" I thought she was going to smack me from a thousand miles away. Maybe I should add a little clock to the website "Number of days since the poet shared his flesh"? The mind boggles.

Love is all you need. But I want more, I want truth. I want it all…I want it all…I want it all…and I want it now.

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.

In a perfect world, when I go on vacation next month, it would be to several cities and countries (you know who you are), but reality is a harsh mistress (and I prefer my mistresses soft and yielding).

As it is, my likely itinerary is to travel to Los Angeles on the 7th of December, spend time on Friday and Saturday and perhaps even Sunday with my daughter, Peri, and her husband, Brian. Then, probably Sunday or Monday, make a pilgrimage to the high desert to wander in the wilderness and reconnect.

From there I will possibly travel to the Salinas area. Or not. There is frail purpose luring me there and the cost-benefits analysis hinges on my telling some people I’d be there. So, as a matter of honor, I must go…but it will probably be a brief stop over, at most.

Then later in the week I will return to LA to visit some of my old haunts and see if I can get together with old friends, the returning to the East Coast probably on the 15th or 16th. Perhaps see my daughter again. We are not as close as we once were and I can;t seem to find the right actions or words to repair the damage.

But at least she isn’t denying she ever heard of me.

Could things happen to screw all that up? Oh yeah. Man plans, God laughs and I adapt.