Saturday, October 29, 2011

A Muse Less

My Muse has packed up her inspirations and left me. Blanche returned to ancient mythological Greece where she rightly belongs, but not before helping this amateur writer write openly, honestly—and sometimes powerfully—about his life.

My life story isn't finished yet, and there is a lot of back-story left to tell. But Blanche and I realized that those stories will not be written. Oh, the ideas are there, and the passion is there— along with the brain fog.

Brain fog, caused by all the drugs I take. The doctors' took an oath to keep me alive and they're doing that. It oftentimes requires strong medicines to keep the machine functioning, but at a high cost: strong side effects. I accept the effects, even though they contend for available brain cell receptors in order to work.

And so I have a faulty memory that plays tricks on me, that makes me dizzy enough to pass out, that makes all things familiar appear to be from Never-Never Land, that causes confusion and forgetfulness—how the hell am I to write anything of substance amongst chaos?

So thank you, Blanche, for being here for me, and along with Rhonda T., making this book almost a reality. I hope you find a nice marble statue to reside in or, better yet, you're somewhere in place and time inspiring someone else to write the best they can.

* * *

Disambiguation, Oct. 31, 2011: Judging from the first few comments, I need to make it clear that Soul Songs will NOT be published in book form because my collaborator, a graphic designer who did wonderful layouts, photos, fonts, and pull-quotes, abandoned the project when we were 90% complete. The book has long since been dismantled (as well as the idea of publishing it), and the essays posted on this blog—most of them rewritten for the better.

I apologize if my brain fog is contagious.

Friday, October 21, 2011

Great Lines

The opening sentence from The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls:

"I was sitting in a taxi, wondering if I had overdressed for the evening, when I looked out the window and saw Mom rooting through a Dumpster."

*  *  *

Sophia (left) and Rose (right)
From the Golden Girls, a wonderful TV sitcom about four women of "a certain age"—mismatched roommates to be sure, but it was all about friendship.

Rose, the quartet's worrier and resident dingbat, says to Sophia after the house had been broken into by thieves, "I can't sleep, knowing that strangers can break in here anytime. Do you ever worry about being raped?"

Sophia, with one of her trademark outrageous answers, "Are you kidding? When I was a girl growing up in Sicily, you couldn't cross the street without getting knocked up."

*  *  *

Eddie the dog, Niles, and brother Frasier
From the TV sitcom Frasier, Martin, a retired cop and the father of two uppity psychiatrists, is worried about his Jack Russell terrier Eddie. "He seems depressed," Martin says, and decides to call in a dog psychiatrist, much to the amusement of Frasier and Niles.

The doggy doctor explains that, since Eddie can't talk, Martin will have to answer the questions to the best of his ability. He asks a couple of benign qestions, while the "real" shrinks snort and guffaw like the little boys they are.

The doctor asks a third question: "If you were Eddie, what would be your favorite fragrance?"

Frasier pipes up, "That's easy—toilet water."

And Miles adds, "Yes, and put that down as his favorite beverage, too."

*   *   *

Out of 8 billion movies, only one comes quickly to mind. In an otherwise boring movie (my opinion), Steve Martin, sitting wistfully on a bench, says, "If I had a body like hers, I'd stay home and play with me all day."

Amen, brother.

*  *  *

This is an audience participation post where anyone with an ounce of humor can, uh, participate. I have no doubt that some (if not all) of you can come up with some real screamers. Lettuce have some fun!

Sunday, October 16, 2011

Map Stewart, Troubadour

Michael Anthony Patrick Stewart

This is my friend Map, who lives in Limerick, Ireland.

He's a lucky bastard: He has a beautiful wife, Annette, and three equally beautiful daughters. He sings for a living, mostly at weddings (there's no shortage of those in Ireland), but I think of him more as a modern-day troubadour.

You'll understand why when you listen to this song—to him a work-in-progress, a fooling around at home with a computer, software and a mixing board, but to me an accomplished ballad of yore.

01 Fields Of Athenry by mapstew

Here are the lyrics

To my friend from Charles Michael Patrick Callahan

Tuesday, October 04, 2011

Coming Soon

Coming real darn soon to a computer screen near you:

A post.