Lie, Cheat and Steel (Pulse)

This morning I was perusing one of the freelance writing job sites I frequent, and I came across this gem:

Wanted: Someone to Write my Ethics Papers

Oh, the money I could make were I less scrupulous...

Last night, Neil and I went up to Central Park with a bottle of wine and a blanket and eavesdropped on the Crosby Stills and Nash concert at Summer Stage. They were really good. As always, there were many people doing as we did, picnic baskets, wine, dogs, babies, marijuana (the others, not us) ... and we moved a couple of times till we were finally not sitting among large groups of people talking loudly and paying absolutely no attention to the music. I understand that it's a social event and fun to come with your friends and all that ... but the "free" seating area is, literally, on a bed of wood chips. Not comfortable, reminiscent of the environment in which my childhood pet gerbils lived ... wouldn't these people rather be in the comfort of one of their homes -- or at least on a grassy knoll somewhere?!

A few weeks ago we went to a free-for-everyone show on one of the piers downtown -- Steel Pulse, a great reggae band from England. This was a banner evening as, not only was the band amazing, but I got a step ahead with my new camera! I learned that, when photographing live musical performances, Sports mode works best. Finally, I'm making progress with this thing:

Been a long, long time ...

Hello my friends! I've been a terrible blah-ger of late, and for this I apologize. I got in a non-blah-ging rut and grossly overstayed my welcome. But now I'm back and I will de-rut immediately.

Much has happened. Still working on my "novel", I'm happy to say -- it seems that I just might reach my goal of 20,000 words by Labor Day, thanks to the guidance of my excellent writing coach, Jill Dearman. Any NYC-based writers who might be interested in her services, check her out on line. Her approach, which has become my approach, has really been working. I made a big deal out of hitting 10,000 words. As Brian said, "Now you just have to put them in some kind of order," which lead to a short-lived banter of nonsensical words "Platypus toast might World War One ever in being for spoke bartender taking the" and that sort of thing. Two people -- my mum and my friend Steve -- asked what word # 10,000 was: overtanned.

Who knows how much of this will remain after the first round of edits? Not I.

In other someday-they'll-catch-on-to-me news, a memoir that I edited is being published this fall, and is in pre-sales on Amazon and B&N at a sizable discount. The book is called Living in the Woods in a Tree, and is about the late country singer/outlaw Blaze Foley and his relationship with the author, who was his girlfriend in the mid-70's. The title refers to their temporary makeshift home in a treehouse in rural Georgia, amidst an enclave of artists and bohemians. Blaze met an untimely death -- by murder committed by a man who got away on a technicality and is now a minister of some sort in Las Vegas -- and there has recently been a resurgence of interest in him. A documentary is in the works, as well as a release of some of his music, which is amazing. Lucinda Williams wrote a song for him following his death: Drunken Angel. If you are at all interested -- it's really a beautifully written book and a great story -- I hope you'll consider pre-ordering a copy! I stand to make at least $37.00 off this project. Celebratory PBR's are on me.

What else ... I'm in insomnia mode right now so will have to save the real catching up for a post later today. The sky is turning Crayola's Thistle ... do they still make that one? I always liked it in the way I liked Cornflower. My alma mater, Lafayette College, is in Easton Pennsylvania ... home of Crayola. And Larry Holmes.

Must go try for another hour or so of sleep. I shall return.

Bad dog...

Independence

Man in the moon

I wrote this post about 24 hours ago:

I've had several ideas in the last two days of what to write -- and I feel that the answer's made itself clear. This is a significant day, the one I've just lived through. I had a scary-but-dealable medical issue -- a procedure -- to contend with; it's all good now, but things of this nature always bring with them bouts of melancholy and contemplation. Today was also my sweet friend Laura's birthday. Laura left us six years ago and has been on my mind nearly every day since.

Happy birthday, my dear!

Earlier, I spoke with a friend who's been having a hard time with things lately. One recent morning -- he'd been out all night with nowhere to stay -- all the sadness and pissed-off-ness he's been swallowing for far too long began to surface. He feels like he's about to lose it, he's out in public (midtown) and he meets a man -- a Cherokee man, he explained, though I'm not sure this was a necessary descriptor -- who takes him under his (Cherokee) wing and calms him down. My friend, who's a fairly spiritual guy, tells me he ends up having "an amazing day with this stranger," to which we both said at the same time, "That's magical."

I'd told him the story of my second-to-last day in Utah, a kindred experience. I was feeling blue and planning to spend the day by myself. Despite my best intentions, given my state of mind, the day would have likely degenerated into nothingness. Or nothing productive, anyway. I went across the street to the store and was considering the beverage display when the girl next to me asked if I was okay, because I "looked sad". We introduced ourselves, I told her the bare bones of what was going on -- it can be very freeing, opening up to a total stranger --and she invited me to go rafting with her and her friends. So I did -- there were about fifteen of us and three or four rafts -- and it was amazing and beautiful, and magical. I couldn't have imagined a more perfect remedy than being taken in by this group of lovely and comforting strangers -- all of whom had gravitated toward Moab to embrace the lifestyle -- and spending the day on the Colorado. It helped me to realize how much larger than our lives the universe is. As broadminded, experienced, and adventuresome as we might be, there is limitless room for expansion. Who's to say whether this is the life I'm supposed to lead in the place I'm supposed to lead it? Every decision made along the way, from where to go to college to which corner to turn one afternoon, has collectively led me to this very moment.

In early 2000 I went to New Orleans* for the second time to visit my friend Bliss, a writer who was down there researching for her next book. On my first night there we attended a party at a well-known New Orleans writer's house -- he and his wife had a beautiful home in the Marigny, the neighborhood I stay in when I visit. I spent the end of the evening talking to a man named Charlie Smith, a seasoned fellow who was, he explained, an out-of-print poet. He recited to me various lines and verses from his work, most of which seemed to be about drinking, and falling futilely in love. I asked Charlie where I could find a copy of his book of poems, Still Waiting for Last Call. He told me that I probably couldn't, that it was gone forever.

A year or so later I found a copy -- signed, no less -- through an out-of-print bookshop. The poetry is simple, imperfect, lyrical -- and, for the most apart, about drinking and falling futilely in love.

Earlier this evening I was sitting alone in the living room (the boys were sleeping) and thinking about Laura, and a line from one of Charlie Smith's poems popped into my mind. I couldn't recall the name of the woman to whom the piece was written, but I rememembered the line, "You left us too soon." The poem is about the loss of a friend who grappled with drugs and demons. This was not the case with Laura, but the sense of loss and of a life snuffed out long before its time is the same.

I found my copy of Still Waiting for Last Call in the other room and -- despite the fact that most of the pages are loose and the cover functions basically as a folder -- I opened right to the poem. This could just be coincidence, but I think it's more than that. Magic, the universe, a sign from beyond ... to me it's all one.

Anyway, here 'tis:

You Left Us Too Soon

Butterflies reach out
when they break their cocoon
Stretching their wings
and seeking more room.

Reaching out for the man in the moon
with a go-to-hell smile
and a gold plated spoon.

But,
Nikkie
Sweet Nikkie
you left us too soon.

Bright eyes can disguise
the person within
Pain can be hidden by
a quicksilver grin.

So Nikkie went looking for the man in the moon
with a go-to-hell smile
and a gold plated spoon.

And
Nikkie,
Sweet Nikkie
you left us too soon.

It's a short one ... I wish there was more. I guess that's the point.

*The photo above is from the Lower Ninth Ward in New Orleans, February 2006

Pride

Argh -- sorry I haven't updated in almost a week! It's been a busy one since the long weekend, but that's no excuse not to write. I will do so later this evening.

In the meantime, and in the spirit of Gay Pride, which was two weekends ago, I post some photos from last year's festivities. Despite living in what was once considered a predominantly gay neighborhood (gayborhood?), this year's Pride weekend almost went by without my realizing that it was happening. Most of my gay friends skip the festivities, which I can completely understand. With the exception of those taking place in New Orleans, I do not fall into the "Everyone loves a parade" demographic. Last year, however, we were aware of the weekend and stopped by the parade to lend our support:













The moral of this post: be proud of who you are.

'Tis of thee

Happy 4th of July, my friends! I will withold serious commentary on this great nation of ours until November ... though politics ranks right down there with finances and religion as things-I-am-reticent-to-discuss. There are some wonderful things about this country that should not be taken for granted. And some things -- practices and ideologies -- that will always baffle me.

However, my ride will be here soon. I shall return.

Sunrise

Why must I wake up so bright and early on the mornings I don't have to go into the office? I beat the Times delivery guy and I hear garbarge trucks. My dog looked annoyed that I disrupted his sleep.

Time to read: I'm engrossed in an excellent book, God's Middle Finger, which is written by a friend of a friend -- an affable fellow I've met several times. This is by no means a shameless plug -- he's a brilliant, witty writer with a fascinating story. Several, actually.

Tra la ... I bet you're all still sleeping.

Mother Nature

Among many others, I inadvertantly left this shot out of the Utah line-up:

We didn't set out to go on this rather harrowing excursion in an ecologically brutal vehicle, but once there, we were hardly in a position to ask the driver to turn around. We thought we were taking a jeep to the arches; instead we scaled rocks in a Hummer. This day was henceforth dubbed The Accidental Hummer. Hilarity ensued. As did my fear of heights, which I got over relatively quickly.

It was actually kind of fun.

Chivalry is under the weather ...

I keep thinking today is Thursday.

Yesterday I was crossing the street against a flashing "Don't Walk" sign. As we know, this quickly becomes a time-sensitive issue. There were two fellows (in suits) standing right at the crosswalk entrance, blocking access for everyone else, including me. I had to side-step them whilst avoiding the oncoming traffic. One of the gentlemen was advising the other, "I'm telling you bro, chivalry will get you everywhere ..."

Wisdom

I just asked Erika if I should share something in this forum and her response was, "Yuck. You may want to keep that one to yourself."

Consider yourselves spared.

Gotham

The color of photos doesn't transfer well to this forum. The actual photos from Utah are much more vibrant, I noticed when I re-read that last post twice to make sure it didn't sound too anything...

This is the view outside my window taken the day after I returned from our trip.

Bang a Gong

At long last ... I've posted some of my photos and can put this trip behind me, where it belongs. There were some beautiful moments (scenery-wise, there were no non-beautiful moments), and some regrettable ones. I seem to be in the midst of one of these phases during which too many things are not quite right. I'd like to believe that we're only presented with what we can handle, but it can certainly be overwhelming.

One of my favorite expressions is the allegedly Chinese proverb:
It's better to light a candle than to curse the darkness.

I agree, to the point that I've been called Pollyanna (I realize some of you will find that absurd).This has been an extraordinarily challenging 2008 thus far -- somewhat for me and very much for too many of the people in my life. I have several friends going through what might be their most difficult times yet, and I have been doing my best to be supportive. But I am human, and sometimes I don't have the emotional energy to expend on everything and everyone who deserves it -- and still have enough left over for me and my relationship. I got a few pieces of upsetting-but-fixable news early one morning during our trip, and Moab was an odd place to be for this. The indescribable beauty and the vastness of it all made me feel at once connected to the world and completely isolated. I tried all day to be cheerful and positive ... and by nightfall it wasn't working. Until I figure out the secret to boundless energy, I can only take on so much.

Today is July 1, exactly six months from New Year's Day in both directions. My half-birthday was Saturday, and I'm told that this is a period of subconscious reflection -- similar to the collective reflection that marks the end of the calendar year. We define our lives with each passing year, each birthday. It's a lot, facing both of those markers at once (not to mention Christmas -- oy vey). So I acknowledge every possible new beginning -- always ready to start over and get it right this time. Today is the mid-point of 2008, a new phase. I plan to use it wisely.

That said, welcome to Moab:




















This is a dinosaur footprint, a type they believe is related to (but much smaller then) T Rex.





This is a spot called "Matrimonial Springs" ... it's perfect, clean water that comes with the caveat that once you sip it, you'll have to come back to Moab.

Maybe.