home

Tonight looking up "Can't Find My Way Home" by Blind Faith--umm, think Steve Winwood and Eric Clapton--a song that came out in 1969,(Joe Cocker does a great version in Benny and Joon) somehow accidentally (yeah, like i believe in accidents and coincidence), anyway ended up on "Homeward Bound" by Simon and Garfunkel (1966) even though they did a great live version the next year at Monterrey Pop Festival.

All good and useful information, but I was looking for this because lately I have heard home calling to me, but I am not exactly sure where or what home is anymore. I love it here, with family and what can you say about Florida--ok, other than crowded, snowbirds, tourists, outrageous homeowner insurance rates, property taxes always climbing, mouseworld, hurricanes, etc) but the other day sitting on the river feeling the salt spray in the breeze blowing through me was great, watching the ospreys and the dolphins--with a little energy and 10 minutes driving, i could be sitting on the beach, looking eastward, knowing that the next land would be the west coast of Africa---i love it

then i think of the mountains of Tennessee, all right, not near the altitude of Colorado, but still beautiful and a small piece of land there has been loaned to me by God(dess) on a mountain outside of Chattanooga--full of cliffs, oaks, hickories, hackberries, an elm or two, even some holly, dogwoods, black walnuts, ginseng, and sassafras------mists in the afternoon and early morning or where i was raised in middle Tennessee, rolling hills and flat land with names like Campbell's Station, Culleoka, Glendale--the damp smell of fresh cut hay, burley tobacco, corn taller than my head---- friendly people--my people--- people that remember me from a kid and still some aunts and uncles and cousins---a lot of cousins---but i haven't been back to Tennessee for over five years now--reckon they'll revoke my passport?---i still know the language, have a little twange, say y'all every chance i can and, oh yeah, you already saw "i reckon" and i do reckon-i can still trace two gggrandfathers to the Civil War/War of the Northern Aggression--one served in a Tennessee calvary unit, the other was killed fighting for the 1st Georgia Infantry while fighting in Va.

but i feel like the song says, "I can't find my way back home"---home calls to me but i am not sure where/what home is anymore--

usually writing helps when this feeling comes around, but not this time--i can still make an effort at it, but i really don't even feel like going back and reading most of it--if not for the convenient "delete" i guess i would have a full trash can or a big pile of crumpled paper in the floor.

damn, i am tired--the kind that sleep doesn't help, maybe a little Tennessee bourbon(JDblack) might help, but i don't have any available

ah, but i do have the luxury of being able to complain, don't i?

peace

-will-

fridays/saturdays

interesting day--went down to the river---is that a line by Cream--watching the river flow--ok, that's a Dylan song----similar to a line from Neil Young---checked the mail and, yes, another dreaded SASE with a form explaining how it would be better if they could send everyone an individual letter, but---why, would that actually make you feel important and that they actually read your stuff before rejecting it?-----and, and as it always seems the same time, I got a couple of bags of mail-order prescriptions--left them all in the mailbox and went to sit on my rock---the river was, and i hate this word because it is used to death, but the best word i can think of is surreal-because with the cloud cover and all it looked almost oily black. with flickering small waves, looking solid enough that i could walk across-but i am not that arrogant--so i sat watching for a computer generated mermaid to rise up from the depths and talk to me--but i settled for a good sized pod of bottlenose dolpins that seemed to hang around and didn't look in the least bit cgi. and in spite of what Sun Tzu said, i did not see the body of my enemy float by (or would that be the bodies of my enemies?)--no matter, nobody or no body floated by.
then on the way up the hill to my house, i borrowed a few avocados from my neighbor's tree--i do have her permission and pulled a couple of limes off our tree that is almost overloaded.

then sat in front of the computer and got an e-mail rejection from another place--yeah, one of those days----but then also had an e-mail from a friend that i literally hadn't heard from in 10 years--actually she is a friend and a cousin---well, her gggggrandfather was the brother to my gggggrandfather--apparently their father had come over from county cork, ireland sometime in 1700's--it was great to hear from her------then i looked outside and the setting sun lit up the clouds to the point that everything was glowing outside--just the way Maxfield Parrish would've painted it
take care
-will-

grace on early friday morning

Well as i said, before i went to sleep last night i went on amazon.com and ordered the Carwreck Conversation cd by Ralston Bowles, mostly for the song, "Grace"--probably just as well that I did because the cd is supposedly not being put out any more at least by the first record label--i think it was re-released later by another company but this is supposed to be some of the last first, umm, do they call it "pressings" like they used to with LP's? or i guess it's burning or printing now--anyway, it is extremely dangerous for me to order a cd or book either online or to go into a store, even Wal-Mart, because i always see or remember something else i've been looking for---so last night, it was the cd by Ralston Bowles, two cd's by Jeff Buckley- Mystery White Boy Live and So Real Songs--both released posthumously-i think---and one more cd by Nena--i think it was a greatest hits collection--i probably have all the songs already but I really like her even though all she is known for if at all in the US is her old song 99 Luftballoons-- and she has so many more good songs--she is still recording and looking better ever recent picture i see of her-yes, she is my favorite German singer-then today i ordered the Zac Brown Band cd, The Foundation--it has the great song, "Toes" with the great lines "I have my toes in the water and my ass in the sand" later on the line changes to "ass in the clay" since it takes places in GA as they say often in the song--you can debate if they are "country" or not--maybe they are more old Southern rock--but labels are, well, labels and if it's a good song, it's a good song---for example, an old country song by Johnny Cash, "Delia's Gone"--originally in 1961, then he updated it working in the early 90's with Rick Rubin--but there is also a great version done in a Johnny Cash tribute concert by Wyclef Jean---so labels don't matter that much to me, anyway, i grew up 42 miles south of Nashville, so i have been exposed to just about every kind of music. Hmm, also ordered soundtrack for Waking Ned Devine--why?-because i haven't yet and i love Irish music. So, tonight, i'll make "Toes" the song of the day-even though several others got considered. i guess i look forward mostly to the Jeff Buckley cds, somewhere i have some stuff by his father the folk singer Tim Buckley--Tim od'd and died in his late 20's, Jeff drowned while swimming in the Wolf River close to Memphis when he was thirty------and to tie it all together, Jeff also did an excellent song called "Grace"-six cd's? i think that's my quota for a while--i guess i can't go get the large bottle of Jack Daniel's Black (or the small or medium one and it would have to be Black, so much better than the Green label) no, so the headaches will have to stand on their own with no acceptable reason
take care
-will-

grace

Grace is an angel, Grace is absurd
In the face of anger, she brings me kisses undeserved
Ralston Bowles, Carwreck Conversations (cd), 2004-Soft Butter Records

Do you ever read or hear something and think, "man, i wish i had written that"?----ummm, yeah, it happens to me several times a day, usually more---today i was listening to some music that i am not even sure where i got it from and in the middle of it was this song, "Grace"---i know, there are a gazillion songs named "Grace" and a lot of them are great songs--e.g. "Grace" the Irish song about Grace Gifford and Joseph Mary Plunkett, an IRA leader who was captured at the GPO (General Post Office) during the Easter uprising in 1916 in Dublin--and their tragic one-night marriage before his execution at dawn the next day--Anthony Kearns of the Irish Tenors does a great version---you can find it on YouTube---no, that all deserves more time than i have or energy for tonight--------but i had heard the Ralston Bowles song, well a lot of times, and I guess I had never really listened to the lyrics--it is a pleasant enough melody--no, it is a good melody with just his voice and either a mandolin or a guitar played in a high octave that is kinda folk, maybe kinda country--but tonight for some reason I heard the lyrics and then had to look them up on the web to make sure i had heard them right----the lyrics are more than good enough to stand alone as poetry, but the song with his voice and phrasing--well i am going to try to order the CD from Amazon before i go to bed--the lines I quoted--i hope i can remember them well enough to quote often==="Grace is an angel, Grace is absurd/in the face of anger, she brings me kisses undeserved"----- and isn't that what grace is supposed to be? mercy or kindness given to us when we don't deserve it---good stuff
-will-

Just Go Away

Listening to a song by a group called Bittermuse--oh, yeah, the song's title is "Just Go Away"-last lines are "Just go away- I don't want you here-I don't need you anymore"--great song--

it also captures the way i feel today---energy level is just barely above zero-just want to sleep

just go away-she is telling her lover to go away, but it sounds like she just wants to go away too

i can understand that

-will-

another thunderstorm rolls in

must be that time of afternoon again--almost always rolling in from the west--the tropical stuff usually comes from the east, or the south, or the north, or the west-i guess based on wherever the storm is----wow, was that profound or what? anyway, i just know that since a tropical storm/hurricane spins counterclockwise, for those of us on the east coast, if you are north of the eye, you get the worst of it--on the gulfcoast, if you're east of it, that is why when Katrina hit around New Orleans, the Mississippi Gulf Coast got the worst of the wind---a real shame, i love that part of the Gulf Coast, Pass Christian, Bay St. Louis, Gulfport, especially Biloxi (but not the casinos) and Ocean Springs--home of the great artist Walter Inglis (Bob) Anderson and Shearwater Pottery, which he helped his family run---he lived an interesting life, i can't do it justice-read Wikipedia-----Biloxi--i remember the great shrimp and soft shell blue crabs and the Biloxi bacon (mullet)---and one of my all-time favorite restaraunts--Mary Mahoney's--home of the greatest beignets and coffee---and located in a group of buildings that dated back to Napoleon's time.

Let's see. song of the day, hmmmm, Aaron Neville--Ave Maria---his voice is unreal---or. let's see, anything by Preservation Hall jazz band out of New Orleans, or cajun music by Zydeco or Doug Kershaw (no, not Sammy Kershaw-he's country)

For what it's worth, I think south of the equator tropical cyclones spin clockwise--i think--i know in Oz (Australia) that when you flush the john, the water swirls clockwise--no, i didn't believe it either until i saw it--of course, i was there for a week before i realized what exactly was different when i flushed---yes, i am that observant and i did notice Oz women a long time before that-but that is a story for another day--

take care
-will-

broken

song for the day is "Broken" by Seether with Amy Lee(of course of Evanescence)--she's a great singer/performer/pianist and looks good while she sings or doesn't---check out "anywhere but home"--a live evanescence dvd where you can really see how good Amy Lee and the rest of that band are.

Another night, bad but not unusual or unprecedented--wonder if i will ever wake up not more tired than when i went to sleep and without a headache thrown in for good measure--no i am definitely gonna have to take up drinking and work my way up to partying and drinking--i could model myself after Yeats or another Irish writer, Brendan Behan, who wrote a great book about his brother, Dominic, who was in IRA at 16 and went to Borstal prison--name of book was Borstal Boy and I think Dominic wrote the song, "Patriot's Game"--one of my favorite songs that's a cautionary poem about patriotism and nationalism---anyway Yeats and Brendan Behan were legendary drinkers. Or maybe even Bon Scott, the first frontman for AC/DC--who was a great singer who lived the lifestyle and unfortunately died of alcohol poisoning.

broken?---no, i am not broken--maybe a little bent, especially around the edges--supposed to see a neurologist in Tampa in about a week---for a 90 minute appointment--why?--mainly because my primary doctor discovered that in order to be in the program i am in now, that i was supposed to see the doctor in charge of it over five years ago (of course, i haven't) and she wants this doctor to get to know me--kinda makes you feel all warm and toasty bout medical systems--don't it?----oh, i forgot to say, this is the VA (Veteran's Administration) system---as she was explaining all this, i couldn't help but think about an old Ray Steven's song--don't remember the title but my favorite lines--"you can hug me all you wanna while we're in Daytona, but you're never gonna Tampa with me"---ok, the whole song is a lot funnier (more funny?) one of my main complaints is that the doctors i see (i.e. specialists) are so damned compartmentalized that like the rheumotologist i saw the other day said, (paraphrased) "yes, i can see you have problems with pain but you will have to talk to your pain management doctor--yes, i can see you have fatigue problems, you need to talk to your neurologist about maybe prescribing--and then he mentioned a drug--but i can't prescribe any of those things for you"-----and we had a nice friendly visit after that---nope, i don't need for the doctor to be my "new friend"--- i would rather have an arrogant sob like House, who would actually do something.

i am rethinking writing contests--whoda thunk?--right--maybe buy 25 lotto tickets instead--or eight 3 dollar tickets and a single $1 one---or--well the possibities are endless------it would be a lot more palatable (i like that word--kind rolls off your tongue--or your palate--sorry--)to be a starving poet with a lot of money--the alternative would be to change my writing style and subjects to the kind of thing that seems to be getting published now-stripped down, depressing, --no, i won't---i am cynical enough as it is

thunderstorm rolling in now--

another weekend winds down, take care--BY THE WAY, IS ANYBODY OUT THERE?
-will-

rejected again

No, that is not the name of a country music song--hmm, it might be, but if it is, it's not one I know. Back on subject-ok-got another "kind" rejection slip today from---well, it doesn't matter, does it?--anyway, it was for a poetry collection---every rejection has a little different format, maybe a little more class here, a little less there and so on--this one--well, it didn't address the thousands of folks that sent in their $25 to be "read" at all--what the rejection writer chose to do was to send more or less a handbill extolling all the accomplishments of the guy who won--numerous publications and awards, book after book, etc--how the winning work stripped away the humanity of folks down to the bare essence (actually those are my words, not the notice's--but it is a fair paraphrasing, I guess we faceless thousands were supposed to feel content to bask in his glory. I can't quote because I seem to have misplaced/destroyed/burned/shredded/or left the blasted piece of paper on the coffee table or maybe the new dog ate it). So, if I understand this right, a fairly well established writer, who is probably at least coming close to making a living at writing, wins the contest that the rest of us probably never had a chance to win in the first place after this person submitted what for the life of me sounds like it had to be a most depressing read. Then we didn't even get thanked for participating in this publication's annual/semi-annual/quarterly--whatever, fundraiser. Kinda makes you wonder if they make more money off their subscription/issue sales or their "writing contests." Ok, vent of day and it's been one of those days-so take all of above either with a knowing smile of agreement as you shake your head or with the view that I am completely wrong---your decision--I won't even argue. I just wonder how folks like Kerouac, Rimbaud, Leonard Cohen, or even Emerson, Whitman, Frost, etc. would fare in these "contests."

Hmmm, song for today--ok, what I am listening to right now, Emmylou Harris, on a video from the Old Grey Whistle Test in the 70's---"Pancho and Lefty"--which is not my favorite song by her but she does it so well and looks so good doing so.
-will-

cold world

"We're getting older the world's getting colder
For the life of me I don't know the reason why
Maybe it's livin' making us give in
Hearts rolling in taken back on the tide
We're balanced together ocean upon the sky"
-"Dog and Butterfly---Heart

These lyrics are where I am today-yeah, I know it's dangerous taking one part out of a whole work or song---this song supposedly was inspired by Ann Wilson's dog chasing a butterfly--but still the song has great lyrics and I am gonna pick these to say, "hey, here is where I am now"

Another of my favorite uncles died in my hometown in Tennessee--it seems likely that if I ever get "home" that there might not be any "home" left. Time keeps flowing and there's nothing anyone can do to even slow it down Just like the waves here in Florida.

-will-

Looking Back to Now

Smile in my darkness-

If the sun was a mirror,

I would see your face

Your hand sought out mine

Your eyes sought your heart in mine

Your soul was in mine

Blue eyes were once black

Fair skin that once was olive

The heart is the same

Before the moon set

And the eastern sky turned red

Time, our time, was here.

Remember me, please

As the sun paints red the east-

How the night was ours

Again.

-will-

Ever since the dog died and mama went to prison

Well, if I can remember from a speech class, I guess that would be called an attention step--it's actually a line from the "perfect country song" by Steve Goodman and John Prine, who refused to take any credit for his effort. "Mothers, prison, trucks, trains, farms, Christmas, and dead dogs are essential, you can't have a good country song without them things"-they managed to get them all in. And this is one of my favorite Steve Goodman songs so that's why it's today's song-oh yeah, it's title is "You Never Even Call Me by My Name" (AKA "The Perfect Country Music Song") Most folks, if they know who he is, remember him for writing "The Spirit of New Orleans." -(no Arlo Guthrie did a great job of singing it, but he didn't write it--instead think, "Alice's Restaurant" or "Motorcycle Song" or from Woodstock, "Comin' into Los Angeles). Steve Goodman did write a lot of good songs and wrote several songs for Jimmy Buffett ("Door Number Three", "California Promises"), who sang on at least one of Steve's albums under the alias of Marvin Gardens. It's been a long time since he died of leukemia, I think--he wrote a great song about his father called "My Old Man" and one about the perpetual Cub fan called "A Dying Cub Fan's Last Request."

I mentioned Steve Goodman and I guess Buffett and John Prine because all three are writers first, singers second, and of course Buffett is a conglomerate now-- but all wrote their share of serious songs but also maybe even more that chose to look at the world with a sense of humor. For me, a sense of humor is essential for no matter what I try to write--even on the most serious things--for instance, I wrote a poem on "cutting" and about a man that had a significant other, in this case a girlfriend, who dealt with life by slicing herself, usually superficially with utility razor blades, so she could relieve her pain, world weariness and depression by feeling pain and watching the blood---no psychological discussion here on the dynamics such as transferring that pain to physical pain or the need to punish--no I am not getting into that here and I didn't in the, umm, rather long poem. Neither am I gonna say how it ended. It was a personal poem for me, and no, I am not going into why it was, at least not here. But I think it turned into a decent poem and a lot of the reason it did was because--well yeah, it took about a half a dozen versions--but I had to regularly stop and remind myself to lighten up--tell the story, share the feelings--make them real, but don't bloody (oops, sorry) don't beat people over the head with it all--just do what you set out to do and don't turn it into a graphic novel or psychological case study---and keep the characters three dimensional, i.e. "real"

So free advice tonight from a therapist who doesn't "therapize" and a writer who don't publish---
so feel free to "caveat emptor" ---except I guess "free" advice is not bought
-hmmm-
-will-

A Salt Breeze

Where is the magic?
Where did it disappear?
Where are the laughter and muted voices
Carried like leaves on the soft breeze?
Why does the moon turn away her face
As if disappointed with what she sees?
Where are the priestesses of Luna,
Are they all gone or died out
Or just waiting for another time?

I suppose I could wait for the answer

When the beams of the moon creep

Slowly across my room through the old window-

But, no, today I was sitting on the river bank-

Actually a salt water lagoon, river in name only

That is a few miles west of the ocean-

The Indian River, a short spit of land, then the Banana River

And a short distance to the ocean-

Sitting enjoying the coolness of the breeze

That is flowing from the backside of a tropical storm-

So the heat of the day is tempered by the cool wind

And the glorious clouds, not threatening at all,

Seem intent on reaching heaven itself

And the seabirds and a few crows

Flying into the breeze actually float motionless-

I close my eyes and feel the salt spray

And the damp wester flow through me-

Wondering how far this breeze has blown-

If I am being touched by breath of the ocean

Mixed with the damp from the two rivers

That are between me and the beach-

Closing my eyes again and enjoying the flow

I remember that the next land east after the beach

Is Africa, can part of the smells be from that far

And just how long has this breeze lived-

Could it be fragments of ancient times-

If I listen hard enough, can I hear the whispers?

How arrogant of me to question magic,

When today just sitting here, I can feel it

In this wonderful breeze all around me.

Just by being silent, I can hear it-

I don’t need to ask questions

When the answers flow,

Even for someone as thick as me.

I can see it even with my eyes closed

But it all is so much more glorious

When I open them.

I see my red door and I want it painted black, no colors anymore, I want them to be black

Sorry for the long title, but I happened to see a video of the Stones' "Paint it Black" from 1966 that had Brian Jones playing sitar--wow, 43 years ago--Brian Jones was dead soon after that, Bill Wyman eventually left the group--- I guess really all I needed to see was a video from about that time of Marianne Faithfull singing "As Tears Go By"--but all I could find was audio of that.
I always liked both of those songs, I have my own interpretation of them--I'll leave yours to you--probably the most interesting things about them was in a time of rhyme, rhyme verse, chorus, repeat verse, chorus, chorus--these songs and some by the Beatles, i.e. "Paperback Writer" were open to interpretation. tangent for today.

Short posting today, to borrow a line from Pink Floyd's "Time"--ahh, from "Dark Side of the Moon"--now that's definitely worth a posting on it's own--anyway, one of my all time favorite lines from any song--"The time is done, the song is over--Thought I'd something more to say"

-will-

Yet million of eyes can see, yet why am I so blind?

sung by Barry and Robin Gibb of Bee Gees in 1967 -- "Holiday"

Yeah, I often wonder about that--but here I am writing in a blog with relative anonymity--not that that matters to me, these days I am prone to speak whatever is on my mind, with some control over various obscenities and expletives---that's the way I was taught in my Southern upbringing, though I guess there is a time and place for those--just not here, not now

started using the sleep machine last night, the way it was explained in the about 15 seconds of coherent conversation I had with the sleep doctor the other day as he was rushing me out the door, he told me that if I had issues with dreams, then I could expect the constant flow of air to my brain to increase the dreams and to make them more vivid--and he was right--I can only remember bits and pieces of all of them from last night, I know that will improve with time-like the last time I used the machine---oh well------maybe I should set the stage for this--the two nights before I used the CPAP machine--let's see Thursday night, I had a vivid dream about dying but the dream ended, I woke up or whatever, before I died--Friday night, I dreamt that I died, not about the events leading up to that--but about lying in a bed dying----then enter the machine, last night, some of the dreams I remember were about a beautiful young lady and being killed in the time with her-yes, I remember a lot of the details but I am not going into them---the interesting (at least to me) thing about these dreams were that they were all three from different times---I have had similar dreams before, usually also from different times, some are recurrent and the details in them change little if any---so I don't really fear that dreaming about death means that I am about to punch my proverbial clock--but I do believe that sometimes dreams are ways that we are shown different glimpses of the past---the way a friend explained it to me one time, was that if you accept that as a truth, then you are more apt to remember dramatic or traumatic parts of those lives at first before remembering other parts--I guess the end if not traumatic would at least be memorable. Like I have said before, including in a poem, I have no fear of dying, actually more curiosity---not that I am in a hurry, because I have many things that I want to do here before like taking care of my family, restoring my old 53 Ford F100, fixing and riding my old Triumph Tr6C motorcycle, having my book of poems published---the Lotto would be nice, but I am afraid that is about as likely as getting my book published. To me if I am at the end of the circle when I die, a perfect vision would be to see a heavy wooden door opening and then to be invited by an old man or woman or both to sit on a stool in front of a fire and to ask whatever questions I wanted.


Ah well, life goes on, even in dreams----but why am I so blind?

-will-

from my poem "Death"

"When You are ready to come for me;

You will have no trouble finding me.

I see You as opening a door for me

And leading me across the threshold;

Hopefully to the beginning of an

Even greater adventure"

Saturday Rain

Thunderstorms tonight, sounded like they were gonna be strong but seem to be settling down--guess the halls of Valhalla aren't too loud tonight--before I forget, the song for tonight is "Right Here, Right Now" by Jesus Jones--for no particular reason,well, "right here, right now, watching the world wake up from history"---yeah, I wish-as we march merrily along.

Short entry tonight, cause it's 1100 and I got some things to do before sleep--no, not that,

I think there were 5 or 6 writing contests deadlining today that I was gonna try to enter, but I just blew them off--come to think of it, didn't get my lotto ticket either---

maybe will be more talkative tomorrow
-will-

to sleep

hazards of loaning computer to someone else-system is royally f------d up and I am too tired to fool with it---bad day in general, well, considering I slept most of it---now to try to sleep and to deal with what dreams may come---song--let's see, ok, "Who Am I?" Country Joe McDonald, with or without the Fish

peace
-will-

Magic

Yeah, it is 9 AM--what's up with that? typical night, headache, life goes on

poem fragment I'm working

Where is the magic?
Where did it disappear?
Where are the laughter and muted voices
Carried like leaves on the soft breeze?
Why does the moon turn away her face
As if disappointed with what she see?
Where are the priestesses of Luna,
Are they all gone or died out
Or just waiting for another time?

ok that's all so far-to try more or to delete--that is the question?

hmmm, in that spirit songs for today "It's a Kind of Magic"-Queen, "Do You Believe in Magic"-John Sebastian and Lovin' Spooful, "Magic Man"-Heart, "This Magic Moment"-Jay and the Americans, "Black Magic Woman"-Santana, "Magic"-Olivia Newton-John

Mittwoch Nacht Spat

Sorry the title is not exactly correct , can't do umlauts-or more properly don't know how to do them on my computer, so there are no two little dots over spat like there should be.

Long day, appt with sleep doctor was a complete waste as was he, this was my first appt with him and the first thing he told me was that I needed to find a new doctor (duhh, that's what I thought he was) because he was leaving area--he pretty much either didn't answer any questions I had or acted like he didn't have any idea what I was talking about--hmmm, asked him about lucid dreaming and his response was "I think I have heard of that" and he is a sleep doctor? I always have tinnitis and when there is no other ambient noise (sounds), the tinnitis sounds louder and sometimes it even keeps me awake. Asked him about that and his suggestion was to get a white sound generator---duhh--as I told him that's what my tinnitis sounds like. I wonder if I got charged for his blank look. I just wish they had told me all this before I wasted my time seeing him. Only thing he wanted to do was to put me back on CPAP breathing machine which causes me to REM all night long and I wake up tireder (or is that more tired?) than when I went to bed. Then had about 4 hour nap this afternoon.

Highlight of day was argument with my editor/publisher over poem I had written---no, Shirley, if you are reading this, you know I am kidding--we had an e-mail discussion where she helped me out with my rhyme and meter on an out of control attempt at a sonnet. I hate trying to do anything other than freestyle--no, I also love haikus. I think that has something to do with my dyslexia--for some reason it is easy to do the three-line five syllable, seven syllable, five syllable and actually have something other than proving I can do 17 syllables of gibberish (usually). I do enjoy working with Shirley even if it's over e-mail. Again, a big plug for WordCatalystMagazine.com --at least check it out. Now is the point where I wonder if anyone actually reads these words. "Hello, hello, hello, is there anybody out there"--Pink Floyd-

Song for today/tonight is "Fragezeichen" a song by a beautiful German singer-Nena-my favorite German female singer--I do love Germany--lots of beautiful women there, too-and by the way, it means Question Mark. Nope, reason for this selection is gonna remain personal and is beyond scope of explanation tonight.

I'm tired-no sleeping machine tonight-I'll risk the sleep apnea--only gonna take about 1/2 meds- my act of defiance

what dreams tonight bring

I feel neither fear nor dread

Glimpses through the veil

Brothers in Arms

It's only 1100, hmm, not quite the witching hour yet--so let's see if this works out-it's been so long since I wrote any poems, I wonder if there are any more there--if my muse if listening, that is a loud hint--so far, she's come through but it seems to be when she's ready--oh well, subject for another time. Right now I am listening to a few Leonard Cohen songs, he's singing "Suzanne" now.."Hallelujah" is next-but I still think the Jeff Buckley version is the best one.

Now the sun's gone to hell
And the moon's riding high
Let me bid you farewell
Every man has to die
But it's written in the starlight
And every line on your palm
We're fools to make war
On our brothers in arms ---Mark Knopfler, "Brothers in Arms"

Talked about Clapton last night, it seemed logical to talk about Knopfler- "Brothers in Arms" is a great song that hardly gets played. I'll make that my song for tonight. Even though "Sultans of Swing" is my favorite Dire Straits song. With some guitarists, all you have to hear is a chord or two to know who they are--Edge with his ringing guitar, Mark Knopfler also has a ringing sound of his own, Clapton is so smooth now-much more than his Yardbird days, I guess since he became Slowhand--Stevie Ray Vaughn and his brother Jimmy Vaughn of Los Lobos, Pete Townsend and bassist John Entwhistle (the "Ox"-one of the only bass players I ever heard that played lead in a song), George Thorogood, Carlos Santana, Jeff Buckley, BB King, of course Bo Diddley, Lindsey Buckingham since he picks his guitar like a banjo, George Harrison "Abbey Road" and later, Ted Nugent, Kurt Cobain, Billie Joe Armstrong (Green Day), Eddie Van Halen, classically trained Leo Kottke--everyone one of these guitarists have their own style so distinctive--I almost forgot Willie Nelson-I know there are a bunch that I just can't remember.
Music and poetry, poetry and music--I always wanted to be a musician--I used to not have the patience and now, well, I just can't. I think for every good poem, there is either music in the poem or at least in its background. Granted, a lot of songs are music with just some catchy words-maybe not even that--but so many more have lyrics that could stand along as poems--in no particular order---listen to Woody Guthrie songs, a lot of older country music songs, some ones like some by Willie Nelson, Kris Kristofferson, Johnny Cash, and even some newer country songwriters, others like Pete Seeger, Bob Dylan, Springsteen, Jackson Browne, especially the older songs of Jimmy Buffett, Steve Goodman, Harry Chapin, outright poets like Cohen and McKuen that later tried songwriting and singing, Suzanne Vega, Joan Baez, now groups like Green Day, Evanescence, and on and on--maybe that is why some poets choose rhyme and miter and some songwriters choose to do freestyle---hmmm, good question--too tired to attempt academia now. But remember Bobbie Burns did at least furnish the lyrics for "Auld Lang Syne."
Guess all that's left tonight is to take my shot (injection, sorry no Jack Daniel Black around) and the meds that I can remember and try to go to bed. If anyone has waded through all this rambling, then you are a better man (person) than I am, Gunga Din. Tonight has been a perfect example of how I tend to write---I write like I think--I guess that means I think like I write--stream of consciousness ala Faulkner and Hemingway-hmmmm-no, subject for another time.obviously borrowing from Mr. Kipling. Hey, it just turned midnight.

Round Midnight

Yes, that time again. That title does sound like an Eric Clapton song. Ok, the song for tonight then is "Wonderful Tonight." Great guitar, great vocals, even better lyrics--well with this song I think they are equally good. Check it out on YouTube--also check out "Bell Bottom Blues." Clapton is definitely a one of a kind artist.

Finished the September column for WordCatalystMagazine.com -and as usual was longer than I intended--always seems to be a bit more I want to add--until 1000-1500 words turns into 2500+ ---all well and good if I was being paid by the word--but this is something I do because a kind lady gave me a chance to do so. Check out the magazine if for no other reason than to enjoy the good work done by Shirley Allard and Harry Furness. If you write, maybe submit something. I am biased but I still think that this is one of the best put together litzines I have seen-Shirley and Harry do hours of hard work and it shows--I keep trying to talk Shirley into going print, but she knowingly points out to me that I have no clue how hard that would be (my words, not hers, she is much more diplomatic).

Me and the late night, that's gone on so long now that I think it's completely natural--well, we'll see what the sleep doctor has to say Wednesday. Then that starts a round of other doctor appointments--it's actually been just over a month since I saw a doctor--must be a kind of a record for me. My two all time favorite lines from medical folks--well, not including several very friendly nurses, but I digress--the first was from an emergency room RN who had recently been a hospice nurse and to set the scene, I was on an emergency room bed in some "distress", had been there waiting for a room for about 6 hours, and one came available so the folks with me went ahead there, so it was just me and the nurse and she announced--"I think this will be your last time, you really better make sure you have all your affairs together"--wellllllllll, first of all, I didn't have any affairs going on that I was aware of and I certainly wasn't ready to "catch the bus" --so I smiled at her and said, "we'll see"--but I did arrange for a notary public to come and put together a will for me (cost @60 bucks, but very nice lady)--of course, the temptation was to do like the brothers did in "Second Hand Lions"--their will-"give it all to the kid"---I wanted to do that but just in case she might be right, I actually did a serious will and of course was discharged from the hospital the next day. There are a lot of other favorite quotes I could give but I will limit it to one more, my favorite doctor (yes, please note the dripping sarcasm) who had the personality of Dr House, but none of his talent--his assessment--"I think you have________, but we won't really know until someone does an autopsy on you"---once I realized that he wasn't planning one that very day, I had to smile, actually to smile very big so I could keep from laughing and all I could think of to say was, "Well, Ok"---yes, I am a master of "I wish I had of said______"--believe me, I could easily fill in that last blank, the possibilities are endless-including some with the friendly nurses.

Speaking of which, the song playing now is Aimee Mann's "Save Me"--without a hesitation, I would volunteer to save her.

Sunday/Monday quarter past midnight

One of these years, my body might learn that it is supposed to sleep at night--ahh well, let me see, what does that mean if I speak of the me that is myself as being separate from my body? And would that be spiritually, metaphysically, or psychologically?---hmmm, don't know-don't care---anyway listening to one of my favorite albums--Greatest Stories Live by Harry Chapin--lot of good songs, but he had way too many good songs to include on that so somewhere I have a compleat/complete collection, but that also doesn't include them all either--I wonder how many more he would have had if he hadn't been killed in the carwreck before he even reached 39--interrupted so, well, now it's much later now approaching 3 ---hmm, this might be one of the reasons I have an appointment with a sleep doctor on Wednesday--everyone seems to think my sleep patterns, such as they are, are all out of whack--for a while, from the time I closed my eyes, I went directly into REM sleep and would stay in it the entire time I was asleep, sometimes for a short while after I awoke, the dreams were all very vivid and I was so involved in them that I might wake up, continuing the conversation from the dream and fall back asleep, and pick up the dream where it left off--I would even get up, maybe go to the bathroom, and come back to bed and the dream would continue---now it's not quite that bad, I don't dream all the time but when I do dream it's still that vivid and involved---so that causes me among other issues to stay tired all the time----but everyone has their stories, don't they? I used to love to dream, now--well, that's a story for another time. By the way, Bruce Springsteen was a good friend of Harry Chapin's and performed "Remember When the Music" at his memorial concert. So, with that tie in and with the way tonight has gone, I think the song for today is Springfield's "The Hitter"--a great song and equally great poem.

Saturday's child works hard for a living

That's me-Saturday's child--I certainly can't say that I have always worked hard for a living, but it feels like I have always worked hard or at least I feel that tired. Guess things other than work can make you feel that way---maybe that's a subject for another time, "but life goes on, and this old world will keep on turning" Thanks, Kris. I would rather have a good reason to be tired---without straining, I certainly could think of more than a few--but, no, it's the usual--sorry, all the cryptic clues for tonight. I did write a little today, that felt good, even got to work in a few quotes from Longfellow, Poe, and Coleridge-yes from The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner, but I didn't use my favorite from Coleridge--"In Xanadu, did Kublai Khan, a stately pleasure dome decree" which certainly seems like a workable idea to me------it's strange though that I can quote other folks stuff with no problems, but I can't do that with any of my own--hmmm, maybe it has something to do with quality control-Oh yeah, I guess the song for today should definitely be "Help Me Make It Through the Night" (please)--of course, by Kris Kristofferson.

Time is a juncture
A beginning or an end
circles in circles

Must be Friday night

Well, what I should be doing tonight is trying to finish a column I do for a litzine ( WordCatalystMagazine.com ) every month, it's probably over half done but I feel over half done so it's not gonna happen tonight. Just watching bad television--so I decided to listen to some music and see what would come out here. Right now the music is Foo Fighters--back when I attempted Twitter, I would post a song of the day religiously. I have read how Twitter is addictive for a lot of folks--ummm--I'm not one of them, it just seems like you are supposed to be following the lives of the self-proclaimed famous people whose every minute of every day is supposed to be important to hundreds of thousands of readers---either that or like very bad chat rooms used to be---nope, no more, if someone wants to twitter me they can meet me on messenger-either yahoo or msn--don't really care--no cast of thousands--thank you very much-I can always, yes, always use a new friend but I don't need a gazillion. ok, enough ranting--hmmm, a song of the day, not a bad idea--sorely tempted to say "All My Life" by FF but no I am going to go with one a little further down on the playlist--"By My Side" from Godspell. I really love the soundtrack to that musical---the play and the movie--did I say I like the soundtrack?--on the other hand, my favorite musical is Superstar, of course with Ted Neeley as Jesus and the late Carl Anderson, the all time best Judas--in the movie, they both played the roles--I have seen the musical with Ted and Carl once and three other times after Carl passed away. I have talked with Ted twice, once in Chattanooga standing next to the cast bus, and once in Melbourne where for some reason, they took a dozen of so of us that had signed up to talk to him after the show--I guess they screened the folks that signed up for this--anyway they took us to a room, after a while he came in and proceeded to spend the next 2 1/2 hours visiting with us-instead of talking to us. He sincerely seemed as interested in us as we were in him, asking us as many questions as we did him. He genuinely seems to feel blessed to be playing the role, now for about 40 years-and he can still hit all of the high notes better than anyone I have ever seen-I told him whether they knew it or not, I believe Rice and Webber wrote the part and music for him--his tour manager kept coming in to get him--they were literally holding the bus for him, they were going to drive from Melbourne, Fl (halfway down east coast of Fl) to their next show in Cleveland, Ohio. Finally, after a few of us told him maybe he needed to go, he agreed. But he positioned himself at the door, and obviously was not going to leave until everyone else did. I was one of the first out and he talked to me in the door for at least fifteen minutes and then he gave me a big bear hug-like he did everyone else. Ted Neeley, a very special man who that night made everyone else in that room feel special. On second thought, make the song for tonight "Gethsemane" from Superstar, of course performed by Ted Neeley.

Thursday Morning

Well, the sun did come up-it's cloudy so I guess we'll get another round of thunderstorms later--I love thunderstorms, the more lightning the better--I like the video even more than the audio, when the lightning is close, the simultaneous clap of thunder, where you can feel the vibration all the way through you--perfect. And the smell of ozone---when I was young, I loved to be out in a thunderstorm or at least on the porch and watching the whole symphony--I guess I thought I was invincible. Now I still love to be in or close to a thunderstorm--to feel the moisture in the breeze even if I am on the porch, to have my skin tingle with the charged air--to count between the flash and the boom--5 seconds=1 mile---I love it when you don't even get to one in the count so you know it's right on top of you. No, I realize that I am not invincible or suicidal--I guess I just lack the common sense to be afraid. Recognizing and respecting the beauty and power of the storm.

Just went outside a little while ago--a beautiful night with just a few clouds but almost as bright as day with a full moon providing the light. Wish I knew more about astronomy--just below the moon was a brilliant star--in military terms, I would say it was left 8 o'clock low of the moon, in another time I might say below port 225 degrees to the moon--just imagine, the same moon throughout all the ages, throughout all the follies of mankind, 10,000 years ago the moon probably looked about the same--maybe it would look a little different to whoever happened to look up--it might have even been worshipped as it was later by the folks in Britain. The moon probably has as much to say now as it did then, but we, at least I, can't understand what it whispers on the breeze
moonlight cast shadows
quiet voices in the darkness
speaking truths unheard