Sunday evening
Posted by William F. DeVault | Filed under Journal, Thoughts about Life
I am starting to wind down from an extraordinary day.
Not necessarily visible to the casual observer, but I have spent an unbelievably fun time collocating poetry and artwork, writing more and visiting with friends, in person, on the phone and on the web.
Life is good. A few holes in it, but I’ve lived through worse times.
I even had one of the more extraordinary artists I am working with, Mariya, on the refit of williamfdevault.com ask if there were any pieces I just couldn’t find the right art for. I gave her aureate(see below). Damn hard to find the right piece for it. If she comes through for me on this, she gets my next book cover.
Hell, at this point, if she comes through for me on this I should marry her. Too few people are worth their word and volunteer to help. It is a graceless age, but there are a few on the barricades, fighting the night. Those are the peope I cherish.
Here’s the poem in question.
aureate
I will not find what I am looking for, here amoung the shadowdancers and sunbathers.
hearts aureate swim to the horizons, or climb cliffs to seek their destinies in moments frozen
as they arc their breathless forms out and away from the rocks of despair, to slice the air
in a dart that acknowledges life is best tasted at terminal velocity, striking the glass sea
that mirrors not for long the double speed descent as hopeful and hopeless romantics
dare to live and love and share and dream and fly and fall and rise and bend and rule
a domain of the senses. seven, at my last count. mounting the sandstone pedestals
left by the spittle of God against the eroding sanctuaries of our immutable malleability.
and when we break the surface tension of our own pretensions, we ride the shockwaves
like perilous nightmares to the foothills of the precipice, practicing the perfecting pain
that shall stain our legacies, whether we hide from it or not, caught on ourselves to coin effigies
in words that make mockery of the currency of our barter. seven sins forgiven. the eighth
breaking the seal of blissful arrogance. and the water slips past your form as your momentum
conquers the buoyancy of swimmers in the sea of life and the force of your entry takes you deep.
past where the children sleep. into the depths where the sun of forced gaiety does not penetrate.
towards the oblivion of knowledge. for the tree of life is a seaweed now, a fruit that floats on limbs
thin with the wear of age and memory. and with every dive, a little closer to fingers split and bloody
with the violence of the splitting of the aqueous walls seen only as a looking glass by those
for whom life is too deep to fathom, too dark to see, too cold to warm, too true to trust.
William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.
To see something of Mariya’s work (and a great deal of Mariya) check out my new Fields of Arbol work, good night, at Amomancer
virtualists and literalists
Posted by William F. DeVault | Filed under Blogosphere, Thoughts about Life
I was exchanging gunfire…er email…with my friend who is codenamed "The Roman", when a thought struck me and I prattled out the following. It is a quick write, but to me it may be a bit of an epiphany. I’ve cleaned up a sentence or two for clarity and punctuation.
There are two kinds of people on the web, virtualists and literalists. The virtualists think of the web as a different world, one where they are not bound by normal limits and where they can indulge more outrageous and aggressive parts of their personality. The literalists treat it as an extension of the real world and they behave on the web much as they do in real life. Perhaps even think of them as virtual legalists versus virtual moralists. The legalists think anything they can’t be arrested, prosecuted and jailed and/or fined for is okay. The moralists believe there are standards above and beyond this, think Jimmy Stewart in The Philadephia Story, long a role model for my construct of conduct. Where do you think I get the concept "You were a bit worse for the wine and there are rules about that" that I have used 100 times or more?
I have always been a literalist, always will be…but I understand the virtualist mindset and accept it. The fun part (tongue planted firmly in cheek) is when literalists and virtualists connect. The literalists tend to take the virtualists too seriously, the virtualists tend to think that their conduct on the web is like a video game, not real…
But it’s almost a spiritual dichotomy, like Jesus said, what you dwell upon, you have done. ("I say to you if a man even looks upon a woman with lust in his heart he is guilty…"). I almost went the other way and became a virtualist, it was tempting and I dabbled, early on, there have been those who have tried to get me onto that side of the world, but in the end I realised I am far too concerned for other people’s feelings and well-being to ever presume or assume I am dealing with virtualists all the time…I presume everyone is a literalist, everyone is taking what I do or say as seriously as real life.
It doesn’t make me better, just different, from a lot of the people I meet. And, let’s face it, virtualists are more fun.
So when you see me write something, don’t worry, there is no hidden agenda, that’s me. When I say love I mean love, when I say angry, I am angry, and when I touch people or they touch me, it is as real as in the same room to the same intent. I can’t live my life by any other standard. For good or for bad, whether you want to trust me, believe in me, accept me or even love me, I am what I am, a literalist. I accept responsibility for every action, every word, every implication I engage in online. A kiss at 800, 8,000 or 12,000 miles is still a kiss. The fundamental things apply…as time goes by.
Quick joke. There’s 10 kinds of people in the world, those who can count in binary and those who can’t.
and now, a brief word from a guy who looks a lot like Ben Kingsley
Posted by William F. DeVault | Filed under Journal, Thoughts about Life
A friend of mine reminded me of this quote from Mahatma Gandhi. Always a fan of the guy.
A coward is incapable of exhibiting love; it is the prerogative of the brave.
making monsters
Posted by William F. DeVault | Filed under Journal, Thoughts about Life
A protege of mine, today, asked why I bother helping and encouraging her, since she feels she has no talent.
I told her that she just hasn’t seen it yet, all her potential, and when she reaches the point where she sees what I see, she will become arrogant and bitchy and dismissive and I will move on to make another monster somewhere else.
Just call me Doctor Frankenstein.
the world’s longest one word blog entry
Posted by William F. DeVault | Filed under Evangelist, Journal, Karla Sasser, Thoughts about Life
I was going to show solidarity today with an organization that has asked its members to pick a day and do a single-word blog post, but I got sidetracked. Maybe tomorrow.
I got a note today from an old friend, praising the tracks they had heard off of Evangelist, most notably Kitabu, and pre-supposing that the title cut to the CD was going to be an expression of anger or remorse.
Ha!
First off, I don’t have time for anger in my day…I get angry, when I must, for seconds at a time. You can blink and miss my anger (be thankful, it isn’t pretty). My view of the human emotional palette is that it contains three primary colours; love, rage and fear. Love has an outward vector, by its nature it is dynamic, as it generally means there must be some kind of flow outward to express it. Rage (or anger) and fear are different, you can bottle those up inside until they eat a hole in your intestines. I have enough forces acting against me in the universe, I try to keep those two (rage and fear) out of my life. They are disabling elements.
No, Evangelist is more an expression of how powerful love is and the aspects of love as they impact us. I speak of the futility of not loving or of loving for its own sake, but not with anger or fear. It’s an interesting cut.
I got slapped around a bit yesterday by the Mad Gypsy herself, Karla Frances Sasser, in the course of a wide-ranging discussion of our former involvement and why it didn’t hold. It was interesting to find out that she and I hold different definitions of what it was, and different perspectives on what went wrong. Then we discussed the empath’s role in finding disastrous liaisons. Empaths should not touch. Anything.
contemplation
Posted by William F. DeVault | Filed under Affirmation, As such, Candy Tothill, Dan McTaggart, Dante, Elric, Evangelist, Evangelist Tour, Jezika, Journal, Karla Sasser, Larry Jaffe, Michele Beschen, Peri, Pink Jade, Poetry, The Faerie, Thoughts about Life, music, podcast, the Selke
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.
Mama said there’d be years like this
Posted by William F. DeVault | Filed under Elric, Evangelist, Evangelist Tour, Journal, Karla Sasser, Thoughts about Life
In the last 48 hours I have encountered more Ghosts of Christmas Pasts than I thought existed. Old friends (and a few not so friendlies) emerging from the ether to speak of things that they felt I needed to hear, or at least they needed to say. And it is all good.
I’m not going to pretend the past year has been anything short of a proving ground for some principles and philosophies. I’ve failed on a few, won on most of the rest and am still waiting the sound of falling shoes on a couple. All in all, a stellar year, and one I will remember fondly (believe it or not).
My dear Mother is prone to say that I am the sort of person who can fall in horse shit and get up smelling roses. She’s right. I may have my dark times, usually when I am in pain of a physical or spiritual nature, but I am pretty durable and amazingly optimistic. I perceive hate, fear and rage as venoms against me, even when I am their source, and thus I don’t let them stick around long. They do their damage, I heal and hope I learned something from the encounter that will reduce the likelihood or intensity of the next meeting.
You can condemn my methods, my talents and even my results, but that merely means you have issue with them. I won’t deny I’ve screwed a few things, a lot of things, up and badly. But on the whole, if you assemble in a room the 100 people who know me best and have seen me in my broadest spectrum, I am content I get an acquittal, and maybe even a round or two of applause for the effort.
The mere fact I am right now pondering the logistics of assembling such a group indicates how daft I can be. The second sign of daftness is that many people who think they know me best don’t have a clue. And there are some people who figured me out in the first thirty seconds I knew them whom I would love to see in that assembly.
I slept badly last night, my back is sore and my neck is stiff. Pollen is driving my sinuses bonkers right now. I pulled a muscle in my shoulder doing yard work and I’m still wearing yesterday’s socks (ugh). I have to deal with the possibility of canceling my tour, or at least scaling it back, due in no small part to an 89 cent burrito from Taco Bell that almost laid me out. It’s bad when you see strips of your own stomach lining. I felt like a starfish.
But I am resolute and working hard to finish the CD and get myself in the best shape I can for touring. I am working hard on my emotional hygiene, as that will be more important than anything in my making it to and through the Evangelist Tour. I am asking a lot from myself. More than ever before.
I pondered taking a lover, but Karla, of all people, smacked me upside the head and reminded me that without the spiritual aspect, it would do me more damage than good. Of course, she’s gotten some more recently than me, says one side of me, looking to shout her down.
I got cute yesterday and made "flair" on FaceBook of all my CD and book covers, sans one which I withheld out of respect for the feelings of a few people who would not hesitate to butcher me in public if they thought it would ease their personal pain. You should, if on FaceBook, swing by and get some…and sign up as my friend, I can always use more friends, even if you haven’t yet passed the test (no one has, so don’t sweat it, I just sleep with one eye open and am tougher than I look).
My son, Elric, is helping me with the music for the final tracks for the Evangelist CD. That is exciting, in many, many ways. And, if you haven’t been over on Amomancer in a while, or don’t like the tone of the malediction poems, wait a few days and strap in…there’s something coming up that will melt the icecaps and dry up Iowa. At the same time.
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