City of Legends

I sat down this morning, and wrote a parody of the lyrics of David Bowie’s "Five Years" from his landmark album "The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars" in memory of today.  

Those of you who truly know me what today, February 12th, means to me.  I re-read my lyric rewrite and archived it.  Too intimate.  Too honest.  I have found that people have use for honesty only in small, esspresso-size doses.  They want it strong but not something one has to hold for too long, has to commit to.  A swift and bitter taste with a kick to it, then out the door and down the street to a diet soda or bottled water.

I am not someone who is very prideful.  There are not a lot of things about myself that I point out and go "I am very proud of that", although I do take great pride in my children and my critical success as a poet.  I know I am smarter than most (we have the metrics) and I have accomplished a few things on the technology and business front in my day that have set a high bar for future accomplishments. 

These past five years, however clumsily executed, however more the stumble than the pirouette, are something I am at least modestly proud of, as I would not have thought it possible.  I have had a few near-misses and one head-on collision with love in that time, but nothing that went so far as to break my vow, although in a few cases it was perhaps more the luck of geography than the will of a saint that saved things.  A part of me wants to see how much further I can take it, just to see how far I can.

A part of me thinks that part of me should be taken out back and made an example of merciless brutality.

The truth is, it will happen when it happens, just as all things of value do, not because it fits a schedule or a timetable or a rubric, but because it is as it should be.  I am open to the winds, but do not command them.  never have, never want to.  I would rather, in the words of the last woman to say "I love you" to me, fall from an impossible height than stand, planted, and dream of wings.

I just listened to the final mixdown of the cut Evangelist.  I am…

content.

It is not what I had envisioned or imagined (but that is what makes life so interesting, eh Peri, Elric, Dante, Karla, Annette, Erina, Jan, Sarah, Candy, Ann, Lauri, Nancy, Brigit, Thomas, Sandy, Mac, Jazz, Sabrina, Loki, Gracie, Dave, Mike, Jess, Mohammed, Alisha, Dar, Dan and everyone else I did not know the moment before they entered my life).

But it is me.  It is hopeful and angry and loving and furious and passionate and loud and humble and proud and literate and visceral and a voice that is neither spoken word or singing, straddling the worlds in dichotomy, for that is my essence.  It has a quality to it I had not heard before.  I was expecting something more rigid, but less authoritative.  I may leak it to a few worthies.  Or not.

It gives me chills, it gives me one of those Ginastera moments I love so much.  My biggest issue now is whether to open or close the CD with it.  It is 4:44 in length, containing only the words of a single poem (Evangelist).  This means that many poems that were to make the cut did not, not out a question of quality, but because I do not yet have a grip on them well enough to express them in a manner that pleases me.

The CD is now complete.  I can die now.  I hope not, as there is some unfinished business I have to wrestle with all over the place, but I recognize that when the time comes, there will always be loose ends and frayed edges.

I need a nap.  Among other things.  I did the math the other day and realized it has now been over 1600 days since I last slept in physical contact with another human being (well, yeah, and no sex, either…an old friend and former lover said "What’s up with that?" like I had lost my mind by going celibate).  No wonder I am barking mad.  Babies deprived of human touch wither and die.

edited to include final track list (order subject to whim)

• Brisant Revelations (3:11)
• NQ (2:38)
• Darfur (Jesus Wept) (3:55)
• Love Gods (3:58)
• Thetis (3:06)
• Kisses for Karma (3:16)
• The Well of Live is Love Without Fear (1:28)
• Strange…but Beautiful (3:16)
• Right Set of Lips (2:12)
• Kitabu (2:20)
• the taste (3:48)
• I rained poetry (3:42)
• 32fps2 (4:54)
• Once Again, The Nemicorn (4:09)
• Howling Beast (2:38)
• Beasts of Legend (13:38)
• Evangelist (4:44) 

I visited my Grandmother this afternoon, and will be seeing her again tomorrow.

I am skipping the party I was invited to tonight.  Why?  Because when push comes to shove, I am a loyal sonuvabitch.  Those who had "give in to temptation within 90 days" just lost your bets.  Sorry.

I think I shall run out to Barnes & Noble with Tag, have some of their iced tea and read some science magazines.  Yeah, I’m a geek.  But an epic geek.

And still working on being the best person that I can be.

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 sometimes speak the truth too loud, and then am stuck with having to stand by it, even amplify it, to avoid seeming the hypocrite (most people, who live their lives as quiet little demi-humans, do not have to deal with this, God bless them all).

I was having an exchange with my deal and brilliant and beautiful friend Candy (an extraordinary writer) and I told her I sometimes do not know when to shut up. She said something profound:

"Never shut up".

So, in honor of the esteemed lady, here are a few things I can’t weasel out of once I have said them.

I don’t think I have been in a loving relationship since 1997. Sorry, I sometimes confuse pity or compassion for passion and love. My Mother insists I tend to have "projects" rather than girlfriends. She’s right. I try to make up for my self-doubts as to my value as a person by taking damaged people into my life.

My definition of a friend as "someone you can trust behind you with a sharp knife and a good reason" stands. It is hard to live a life without many "friends", but that word is so abused anymore, especially in this age of lies and shady persona of the cyberverse.

I trust my enemies more than my "friends". How’s that for madness? The truth is, they are more honest, usually.

I miss sex. A lot. Sometimes I worry that when I find my next lover, she will have to endure a lot of catching up on my part. Poor girl.

I have grown darker in my days. Darker in that my eroticism is edgy and…hard to explain.

I think I am a better poet than I was twenty or even thirty years ago. There are some pieces from back then that are quite good, but you should’ve seen the lion’s share of that era.

I don’t like assassins, people who strike under cover of pretense of friendship or using anonymity to mask them. If I have an issue with you, you’ll know about it. Come at me in the shadows and I will feel but pity for you. My peers, even those who do not like me or my worldview, stand face to face with me and go toe to toe with me in conflict and I respect them.

I give my love freely, with no expectation of recompense. Yes, I am in love at this time, but she has no use for me. Except when she has use for me, then I am back in the closet or on the shelf until the next time she is bored or needy. I suspect she does not see me as a person, but as a thing or an abstraction. It’s very painful, but that pain powers my creativity. It may be even more complicated than that, but that is how it seems.

I sometimes wonder how much time I have left. Younger men than me die every day of unexpected things.

I have forgiven all my enemies, even those who still linger in the shadows.

I still like chicken livers and refer to them as "evidence of a loving God".