Archive for the Acknowledgement Category

She Wants to be the Other Woman

Posted in Acknowledgement, Appreciation, Much Too Good For Children, Polyamory on February 9, 2017 by dreamlanddancing

(This is a re-blog of a previous post; it occurred to me that if it was appropriate for me to remember and re-visit this idea, perhaps we could all use the reminder.

Polyamorous or not, our significant others are often too easily taken for granted; we forget the thrill of Infatuation…The Crush that we once experienced with them.)

This post is dedicated to Suki.

She Wants to be The Other Woman

(There is an old Italian proverb that asks: If your wife and your mistress are both drowning at the same time and you can only save one, which one do you save?

The answer is your wife…because your mistress will understand.)

*****

She said

she wants to be

the other woman…

the one I yearn to see

when I can slip away

for a clandestine rendezvous.

Furtive hours

of stolen kisses

that must remain our secret

between we two.

The one who gets excited

to know I’m seeing her.

Mia Cumare.

Mia Innamorata.

Mia Fidanzata.

*****

I said

“I guess that means

that you won’t be telling me

how we should spend our money

or argue how to raise

our children

or forbid me to buy a motorcycle

if I should choose.”

“It also means

you can’t wake up

in bed with me

each morning,

or sleep in late on

Sundays long past noon

or be seen together

in public places,

or watch our children

accepting awards at school.”

But my dear

such is not the case.

You already know.

You understand.

In our perfect world

together

in our

House beside the Sea

you get to be

The Other Woman

as you may please

and still come home to me

or

better still

to share

another man

another woman

perhaps their spouses, too…

The circle grows

but remains unbroken…

unflinching fidelity

no lies

no excuses

no regrets

or apologies

required.

And yet it all begins

and ends

with

Me and You.

Namaste

Chazz Vincent

An Open Letter to all the Women in my Life who Loved me and Lived to Regret it

Posted in Acknowledgement, Crazy Zen Wisdom, Jantor To The Temple Of The Holy of Holies, Letting Go, Love on September 7, 2016 by dreamlanddancing

I hope I was the worst mistake you ever made in your life.

I say that  as both  a blessing and a sincere wish.

That means you lived through it and if it indeed was your worst mistake that means you learned from it, and your life is better now.

Even if it was for the best that we went our separate ways I sincerely believe that it is never wrong to tell someone “I love you” and you were far, far from the worst mistake I ever made.

Baraka Bashad.

Blessings Be.

Sayonara Zetsubou Sensei .

 

Namasté
नमस्ते
Chazz Vincent

09/07/2016

 

 

 

 

 

 

Favorites #9

Posted in Acknowledgement, Appreciation, Love, Poetry on May 14, 2016 by dreamlanddancing
俳句…(Valentine Haiku for Suki)
Others come and go
but here and now we remain
I love you always.
Swimming against tides,
Tsukimono-suji please
“Nāsu Witchi” heal.
A mere foolish man,
I stand before you loving
all you are and do.
Winter storms be gone
Better comes as bitter goes
Spring brings warm soft breeze.
Many seasons pass
bamboo and pine grow in Spring
Love grows every day.

Just a quick thought

Posted in Acknowledgement, Appreciation, This Thing we do with Words on May 12, 2016 by dreamlanddancing

I am blessed by the friends I have come to know here.

I am in the process of trying to select and edit ten poems for consideration to be included in an anthology.

I have often considered adding a separate page for just my poetry, like I did with the first two novels once they were finished, and kept putting it off, so it took a long time to try to get the list down to just twenty-nine, and I am stuck, at least for one more day.

The re-blogs just helped make that decision a little easier, and thank you for that.

Several of you have inspired a number of the ones I am having the most trouble deciding upon which to use (you know who you are), and I am most grateful to my muses.

The last few months have been marked by turmoil and a lot of re-assessment, and I have not been posting much lately.

I re-blogged a post a few months ago on taking action and my life has not been the same since because I have not addressed a number of everyday life realities, and it is still taking a while to re-establish some balance.

As I have often said before, I write for the same reason that an alcoholic drinks.

That tends to be selfish, because I tend to write more than I read. I have been doing a great deal of research for the next book, because this will be very new territory, but I realized that I missed the community here, so here I am again.

Several of you have been very supportive during this time, and I can’t thank you enough.

Namasté
नमस्ते
Chazz Vincent

05/12/2016

Yen 4Suki

Posted in Acknowledgement, Appreciation, Love, Uncategorized on May 9, 2016 by dreamlanddancing

Happy Mother’s Day

It would take the rest of the year

to properly thank you

for what you have given me.

And I will take

the rest of our lives

to show it in my actions.

You give life.

You share life.

You are the source of all creation.

Namasté
नमस्ते
Chazz

My Muses

Posted in Acknowledgement, Appreciation, Collaboration, Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Erotic Poetry, Goddess, gratitutde, Jantor To The Temple Of The Holy of Holies, Liason, Liason Between Parties, Love, Mature Theme, Much Too Good For Children, NSFW, Poetry, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Sentience, Share The Love, Sorcery, The Knowledge of Good and Evil, The Wisdom, Theater of the Mind, Tsukimono-suji, What You Have Conjured Up, Zen with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 20, 2015 by dreamlanddancing

My Muses

Our souls breathe the same air

somewhere

outside of time and space

resonating

as we breathe out

we inspire each other

as we breathe in

provocative exhalations

evoking visions and dreams,

wonderment and admirations

that just seem to fit so well.

As each pronouncement

of the ideal

of the other

mirrors our own aspirations.

If you can imagine it

you can make it happen.

To hear you describe it

is to desire to be that man

who inspires you

to be that woman.

To read your thoughts

is to feel

your soul

breathing your words into my ear.

Each of you

nurture, heal and inspire

the very best of me,

inspiring me

to do the same for you.

Indulgences

of spirit and flesh

are exchanged

as fluently

as

passing from one hand to the other.

Breathless humours and vapors

of our common consciousness

in mutual resusitation.

 

Know Thyself

Posted in Acknowledgement, adversity, Confessions of a Mad Philosopher, Crossing the Abyss, Ctical Incident Stress Disorder, Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Depersonalization Disorder, Depersonalization Syndrome, DPD, Emergency Medical Services, EMS War Stories, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Explicit Sexual Language, Knowledge, Mature Theme, Memoires of a Post-Neo Dharma Bum, Much Too Good For Children, NSFW, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Sentience, The Knowledge of Good and Evil, Theater of the Mind, Zen on March 15, 2015 by dreamlanddancing

Know Thyself

While conducting research for the final editing of my latest novel, I literally stumbled upon a concept that has radically improved my coping mechanisms…something of which I have admittedly been in dire need for a very long time.

I recognize that self-diagnosis is a slippery slope, but after a great deal of inquiry and assessment, I realized that I simply felt better knowing that not only was I not alone, but also that the simple recognition of my condition is in itself instrumental in my own recovery.

Just as it has been said that those who would try to act as their own attorney have a fool for a client, so also it is that those who would attempt to act as their own psychiatrist may by definition have a crazy person as a patient, but it all depends on how much they want to get better because in this case, the physician has to “heal thyself”.

No one can figure it out for you; once you are given the map and the compass, you only have to find yourself.

Recognition provides opportunities for alternate behaviors that target the isolation, and initiate theraputic responses.

For that reason, I am sharing this with my readers. Some of you may benefit from it yourselves; some of you may know someone who will.

Wikipedia describes Depersonalization Disorder (or Syndrome) as:

The core symptom of depersonalization disorder is the subjective experience of “unreality in one’s sense of self”, and as such there are no clinical signs.

(This is probably because DPD victims are taught to cope, to move on and to ignore, mask, or overcome the symptoms. Divorcing oneself from one’s feelings enables a pattern of denial that allows the sufferer to continue to function despite overwhelming toxic stimulae.)

(Please note that I have added emphasis and comments throughout this text. This is typical of one of them. Also, the first time I saw the initialization of the syndrome, it sounded like a term of art from the Kink/Fet community…but that could just be me, I suppose.)

Depersonalization Disorder is frequently described as feeling disconnected from one’s physicality; feeling like one is not completely occupying the body; not feeling in control of one’s speech or physical movements; and feeling detached from one’s own thoughts or emotions; experiencing one’s self and life from a distance; a sense of just going through the motions; feeling as though one is in a dream or movie; and even out-of-body experiences.

People who are diagnosed with depersonalization also experience an almost uncontrollable urge to question and think about the nature of reality and existence as well as other deeply philosophical questions.

(Or is it more a matter of course that people are more prone to experience epiphanies and profound realizations that are triggered by the emotional, physical and sensory overload experienced as a result of Critical Incident Stress?)

(Those who choose to put themselves in harms way as a career often try to divine and attach meaning or purpose on a grand scale as part of the troubleshooting and diagnostic processes of our respective careers and life-long ambitions. This would appear to be an effort to prevent or resolve DPD by Rationalization.)

Individuals who experience depersonalization can feel divorced from their own personal physicality by sensing their body sensations, feelings, emotions and behaviors as not being theirs. This in effect, is the exact opposite of Sentience (as self-awareness).

Also, a recognition of Self breaks down (hence the name). Depersonalization can result in very high anxiety levels, which can intensify these perceptions even further.

A diagnosis is made when the disassociation is persistent and interferes with the social and/or occupational functions necessary for everyday living.

(Oh really? Just how fucked up do you have to be for this to be recognized? …Wouldn’t these people benefit from recognition and help long before it gets to that point? Even when I was that severely disordered, I never even knew that such a diagnosis existed, and the subject certainly never came up during numerous therapy sessions with many different mental healthcare professionals.)

Depersonalization disorder is thought to be caused largely by severe traumatic lifetime events, (such as the death of a spouse, or child, divorce, or other emotional losses involving a loved one), childhood abuse (verbal, emotional and sexual), accidents, natural disasters, war, torture, “…justifiable self-defense with extreme prejudice”, panic attacks and bad drug experiences.

(For many of us, “bad drug experiences” were regarded as failures to assimilate a positive outcome from an extremely challenging situation…after all, no matter what you experience, it all came from within you. You cannot fear the Poison Thought. Embrace it, and you will find meaning.)

Although the disorder is an alteration in the subjective experience of reality, it is not related to psychosis, as sufferers maintain the ability to distinguish between their own internal experiences and the objective reality of the outside world.

During either episodic or continuous depersonalization, sufferers are able to distinguish between reality and fantasy, and their grasp on reality remains stable at all times. (…or at least as much as it ever was…you could be completely delusional, for instance, and be quite stable.)

(For some, Zen meditation can lead to a paradoxical state of mind wherein the connection between the individual and all life, energy and matter is only recognized by detaching oneself from all personal biases and attachments including words themselves. Without a strong sense of Self, this strongly resembles DPD.)

Factors that tend to diminish symptoms are comforting interpersonal interactions (How about Romance?), intense physical or emotional stimulation, (especially sex) and relaxation (afterwards). Distracting oneself (by engaging in conversation, sexual escapades, meditation, or watching a movie for example) may also provide temporary symptomatic relief.

(Which does nothing to cure the condition, whereas “comforting interpersonal interactions” practically is the cure, or at the very least a good indicator of progress.)

Some other factors that are identified as relieving symptom severity are diet and/or exercise as well as psycho-pharmacological agents; while alcohol and fatigue are listed by others as to cause worsening of symptoms.

The exact cause of depersonalization is unknown, although bio-psycho-social correlations and triggers have been identified. Childhood interpersonal trauma – emotional abuse in particular – is a significant predictor of a diagnosis.

The most common immediate precipitators of the disorder are severe stress (either chronic or acute), major depressive disorder and panic; as well as hallucinogen ingestion.

(Personally, I never met a hallucinogen I didn’t like.)

Patients demonstrate abnormal cortisol levels and basal activity. (Frequently, the diurnal circadian rhythms are also disrupted.)

Studies found that patients with DPD could be distinguished from patients with clinical depression and post-traumatic stress disorder, (although the conditions may also exist concommitantly).

It has been thought that depersonalization has been caused by a biological response to dangerous, life-threatening or profoundly tragic situations which causes heightened senses and emotional neutrality.

Depersonalization disorder may be associated with dysregulation of the hypothalamic-adrenal-pituitary disorder, the area of the brain involved in the “fight-(fuck)-or-flight” response.

(I honestly think that is a dangerous combination…it may keep you alive, but it also facilitates detachment from our actions in order to enable us to survive the unthinkable consequences.)

As I read the above description, I realized that it was a condensed synopsis of my life thus far, which for me, meant that I now had an identifiable, recognized series of causative agents to explain a condition that I had not yet discretely identified despite the fact that even my earliest childhood memories are filled with elements of those descriptions.

Until very recently, I believed that my adult experiences, including a twenty-two year career in Emergency Medical Services, five failed marriages, the death of a spouse, and a lifetime of bad choices and dangerous living were all that factored into my condition.

It has only been after careful re-consideration of my childhood and early adult life that I began to recognize how the pre-disposing anticedents of my childhood set the stage for what was to follow; not because I did not have any choice, but because I did not know that I had one.

I now realize that it is long past time to make peace with myself, to forgive myself, and acknowledge the horrors I have either survived or created, congratulate myself for my achievements, and to embrace my life and loves like there is no tomorrow.

Unfortunately, Depersonalization Disorder patients do not process emotionally salient material in the same way as do healthy individuals.

As a result, I have been in denial for so long, that every time I open the door even the tiniest bit, so as to allow my emotions to touch me, to allow even the happiest or subtle moments of joy to be experienced long enough to be felt and savored I am overwhelmed by feelings so strong that they feel as if they will tear me apart as I am swept away…and heroes are not allowed to cry.

This is not a test.

This is not a drill.

This is not a movie.

This is not a dream.

This is real.

Every day is a miracle.

Every day is judgment day.

Be here now.

This is the only life you will ever recognize as yours.

I share these observations and information not to call attention to myself. It is not something most people would be inclined to admit. My own recovery is a work in progress.

If you know an armed services veteran, or a cop, paramedic, or firefighter, doctor or nurse, chances are that some aspect of Depersonalization Disorder/Syndrome either has or will affect them or someone they know or love eventually, depending on whether of not they were pre-disposed to it by early primal life experiences.

Perhaps aspiring heroes are born out of the emotional needs created by dysfunctional or abusive childhoods, further predisposing them to harm from critical incident stress and isolation as adults.

The very same tools that we were taught to use to prevent us from becoming emotionally attached to the critical stress incidents that hurt and damage us as we are thrust into them have the potential to distance us from the rest of the world as well, long after the turmoil is over.

Awareness and recognition are the first steps toward healing.

Namasté

नमस्ते

Almost Nothing

Posted in Acknowledgement, Appreciation, Bardo Thordol, Escape Velocity, gratitutde, Jantor To The Temple Of The Holy of Holies, Knowledge, Memoires of a Post-Neo Dharma Bum, Sentience, the willing suspension of disbelief, The Wisdom, Theater of the Mind, Uroboros, Vision Quest, Zen with tags , , , , , , , , , , on February 6, 2015 by dreamlanddancing

Once

it seemed like

nothing was ever good enough,

and I suffered greatly

in the midst of plenty.

Experience

has taught me

that Almost Nothing

is more than enough

if you surround yourself

with gratitude.

Eclecticism vs. Plagiarism

Posted in A Dirty Mind is A Terrible Thing To Waste, Acknowledgement, Advisors, Appreciation, Blogging, Catalog Juxtaposition, Celebration, coincidences, Collaboration, Confessions of a Mad Philosopher, Conjured Up Next, Dancing in Dreamland, Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Escape Velocity, Explicit Sexual Language, First Amendment Rights, gratitutde, Liason Between Parties, Mature Theme, Much Too Good For Children, NSFW, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Random Observations, Sentience, Share The Love, The Church of Reason, Theater of the Mind on January 2, 2015 by dreamlanddancing

I am currently in the midst of a period of tragedy, loss and re-assessment in a life earmarked by great Beauty, Ecstacy, Love, Danger, Violence, Joy, Excess and Horror. To quote Carlos Castaneda quoting the brujo Don Juan in “A Yaqui Way of Knowledge”, I am reminded on a daily basis that “Death walks in your shadow.”

Of course when Carlos Castaneda quoted Don Juan, even the sorcerer himself was quoting a truism or “Old Saw” well-known to the Yaqui people. This raises the question of how far does one need to go in correctly crediting one’s sources without completely losing the train of thought and presentation in something that masquerades under the banner of original or creative writing?

I did some research and found that Charles Caleb Colton was the author of the term: “…Imitation is the sincerest (form) of flattery….”, I admit that I do not recall ever hearing of him or his works before, but everyone is familiar with the quotation; this is as good as any example that I know of a very small portion of that to which I speak, write, or refer.

I had to look it up to quote the author, now a relative unknown, and discovered that the original quote was: “Imitation is the sincerest of flattery…”. Although he was something of an erratic luminary of his day, with a propensity for self-indulgence and given to excess; he died broke and took his own life and is relatively unknown today except to scholars a great deal more erudite than myself.

If I should use some phrase, to what lengths should I go to quote the source; or should I even perhaps footnote it like a term paper on English Composition? I have read and listened to speakers whose most notable feature is the way in which they weave in and around endless quotations and references, making a kind of pedantic bibliography of the synthesis of whatever ideas they are trying to present.

Some of them are quite fascinating, if you can ever grasp the actual gist or meat of whatever it is they may eventually try to present as an original idea, although the synthesis of the literary Gumbo that they serve up becomes a casualty of the litigious, greedy nature of the modern culture before which we are all forced to bow.

I am a weaver of dreams and teller of tall tales,  mostly true, thinly disguised to protect the guilty (mostly myself) and the innocent alike for fear of implying an unsavory association with otherwise good people who do not deserve such shame for having known, loved, or befriended me.

It is my desire to resurrect the American storytelling tradition by incorporating it into a literary genre I like to call “enhanced and fortified non-fiction”. I was relatively well-educated, but must admit I have forgotten more than most people would even care to ever learn. My point is that in the attempt to not plagiarized, the homage of quotation can become cumbersome.

On the other hand, this pitiful self-indulgent,  self-destructive fiend named Colton has passed into relative anonymity although the mis quotation of his most famous line that is so commonly used that it has become a cliché for people who know nothing of his existence.

If you Google the phrase, you have to only see how many unrelated references there are through which I had to wade to find the source. And of course, there are times when we discover after the fact that what we thought was original was not, leaving us to feel as if as the song by Mark–Almond says: “…It’s all been done before…”

I know there are rules…I was raised on them…chastised if I did not strictly follow them, or warned of dire consequences if I did not adhere to them, courtesy of fear of the scholarly “Hickory Stick” of seventeen-century values, customs and protocols as they dragged their half-dead carcasses across the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, leaving a trail of blood, venom, shit and bile like a dog hit by a car that refuses to die before it reaches its Final Destination.

Henry David Thoreau wrote in “Civil Disobedience” that “All machines have their friction…but when the friction comes to have its machine, and oppression…organized, I say, let us not have such a machine any longer.”

This is not to say that I condone plagiarism. To outright steal the complete works and ideas of another author and preset them as one’s own is unjustifiable, but to pick from the marketplace of ideas like a chef choosing which ingredients he or she will use to prepare a meal, perhaps without so much as a defined recipe, instead simply doing a little of this and using a little of that in the style of something you may or may not entirely recognize, although seemingly vaguely familiar (which I have come to embrace as what I call Jazz Cooking) represents a synthesis of originality applied against the clichés and shop-worn ideas and techniques that threaten to strangle us all for fear of accusations of being excessively derivative.

There is a danger in being too well-read and educated. I was raised hearing that there have been no new thoughts or ideas since the Greeks, or biblical times or some other such horse-shit guaranteed to leave a right-minded person afraid to speak, think, or write. The more you know, the greater the risk…so why even bother?

Sometime early in my youth while studying Art and Cinematography. I was introduced to the technique of Collage and Photomontage. In its own way, it perhaps paved the groundwork of the modern Hip-Hop technique referred to as Sampling, which took legal action to be defined and separated from litigation for copy write violation.

Many years before, when George Harrison was sued for plagiarism attributed to his song My Sweet Lord, because of its remarkable similarity to “He’s so Fine” I heard Dolly Parton remark how in the same way, the same sequence of notes in I Saw Her Standing There was exactly the same sequence as Nine to Five.

Her point seemed to center around the fact that context, treatment, style and presentation are in fact the basis of originality, since after all, there are really only twelve notes in the modern Western musical scale.

In the last twenty years, we have seen an irrational preoccupation in the lengths to which attorneys have taken the concept of Intellectual Property on behalf of either Michael Eisner’s New-World Order of Disney, going so far as to attempt to sue a day-care center in Hollywood, Florida for using hand-painted images of Disney characters like Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck or Snow White on the walls of the center. (BTW: When the threats got national media attention, Hanna-Barbara Studios flew their own artists to the day-care center to paint their copyrighted images instead…for free.)

Or consider the story of George Lucas suing a porn producer for making a movie entitled Star Whores and attempting to prevent use of the THX signature of envelope and timbre of the well-known glissando of their logo as the intro for a Hip-Hop song.

Perhaps the real question is to ask “what is the harm?” to determine if any creative artist has been wronged. Where is the line drawn between Homage and Plagiarism? We often either knowingly or unknowingly quote the Bible, Shakespeare, or any number of thousands of previously published works by the choice of a particular turn of a phrase or word.

Sometimes a cliché is all you need to set up a rhythm, an easy shorthand to quickly conjure up an image, or make the hairs on your neck stand on end…(or anything else for that matter) like jumping from second to fourth gear, saving your own (well as their) best energies for the real verities.

The movie Zeitgeist would suggest that even the fundamentals of Christianity are in fact the result of a form of religious plagiarism, but even unique applications of clichés or shop-worn phrases to effect an original presentation of ideas and images that lend a recognizable universality to any artistic work may still be subject to scrutiny.

As to where one point ends and another begins…well, to paraphrase: “The proof is in the (eating of) the pudding.” BTW: Just to illustrate, it was George Carlin (in Brain Droppings) that added the parenthetical, although he was referring to an entirely different set of circumstances.

I frequently use song titles or movie titles to describe something in a certain way that may or may not be recognizable to the reader. I usually Capitalize and italicize the title, so as to draw attention to how it was woven into the fabric of the text, as a sort of “Nod and a Wink” (to the readers who probably also like puns), but with the exception of the use of the first few lines line of Volunteers (of America) by the Jefferson Airplane as the title of a chapter I once wrote, I do not generally quote or footnote.

If anything, I try to avoid using enough of their words in sequence to be considered liable, and whenever possible, it is usually used in such a different context that only the veneer of resemblance is exposed.

Interestingly enough, The Jefferson Airplane was forced to drop the “of America” from the title of both the song and the Album because of copyright infringement, thereby markedly increasing the value of any first-edition releases that were not pulled from the racks.

There is no end to the irony of the fact that the opening proclaims: “We are all outlaws in the eyes of America…in order to survive we steal, lie, cheat , forge, fuck, hide and deal…we are obscene, lawless, dangerous, dirty, violent…and young.”

It was an anthem of the awakening of myself and an entire generation of outlaws, brigands, and perverts. Although I quoted and recognized them at the beginning of the title of the chapter, I should only be so fortunate as to have that work become popular enough that I should be allowed the privilege to pay them tribute in money, if deemed appropriate, regardless of the irony.

For instance, I know very well that it was Hemingway who first used the term “Moveable Feast” when he described Paris. It is my sincerest hope that most of the literate (reading) public does as well. I used the phrase in a completely different context at some point in the past. I remember doing it, but for the life of me I don’t recall when or how, or in what frame of reference.

At nearly the same point in time, both Jackson Pollock and Charlie Parker began doing the same thing in different media by allowing a sort of “stream of consciousness” in music and a “reflex arc” or “muscle memory” in Art to produce their most memorable works in a new style largely invented by each of them, according to their respective disciplines.

Red Skelton, in the midst of controversy of his use of a few sly innuendoes that were deemed “dirty” by some television viewers simply remarked that if you already knew the context, then he was only reminding you of something that you had already heard or thought that was already in your own brain.

In Senate hearings over obscenity in rock music, Paula Hawkins accused Frank Zappa of causing people to “…think dirty…” whereupon he replied that he would be flattered if he was accused of having caused people to think at all.

About a year ago, however, when a reader remarked about how much he liked a particular idea that I had presented, I did mention that it was partially inspired by one of my all-time favorite writers, and in the process turned the reader on to an author of a unique genre of literature in which he stands head and shoulders above almost all others, with few equals anywhere, and that has given me pause to reconsider….

In this spirit of full disclosure, I would like to list some of the artists, musicians, philosophers, comedians, perverts, poets, writers, teachers, lovers, free spirits and bon vivants who have in many subtle and unsubtle ways influenced or inspired many entries I have written in one way or another, and at the very  least given me hope and strength to carry on. I have frequently quoted (and just as likely mis-quoted), and in one way or another at the very least leaned heavily upon each of you in my many hours of need. (These are neither alphabetical nor in order of importance; they are simply presented as they randomly occurred to me. Some are famous, some deserve to be…):

Tom Robbins

Dr. Hunter Stockton Thompson

Artur Rimbaud

Walt Whitman

Allen Ginsburg

Charles Bukowski

Frank Zappa

Jeff Beck

Eric Clapton

Mark-Almond

Douglas Adams

Lawrence M. Krauss, Ph. D.

Eric Stewart, Kevin Godley, Graham Keith Gouldman and

Laurence Neil “Lol” Creme (of 10cc)

Spirit

The Jefferson Airplane

The Grateful Dead

Randy Bays and Francis (aka: Francois Hermes) “Frenchy” Massinon

Eddie Bischoff

Abraham Maslow

Robert Hilton

Claude Debussy

Eric Satie

Ernest Hemingway

John Cage

Ingmar Bergman

George Orwell

Aldus Huxley

B.F. Skinner

Timothy Leary

Richard Alpert (aka: Baba Ram Dass)

Lenny Bruce

Linda Goodman

Alfred E. Newman

Louie C. K.

Henry David Thoreau

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Amy Rogers-Edgin-Onasis-Bono-Allman-???

Karan Barnes

Joseph F. Pulitzotto

George Carlin

Robin Williams

Suki Vincent

Anastasia, the eternal “Astral Travler”; aka “the Ex-Stacy”

John Steinbeck

Jack Nietzsche

Andrew L. Oldham

Friedrich Nietzsche

Carlos Castaneda

Ron Jeremy

Robert M. Pirsig

The Rolling Stones

Eric Burdon

Van Morrison

Steven Trask

Hedwig

William S. Burroughs

Charlie Kaufman

Oliver Stone

Quentin Tarantino

LeeAnn Macguire Reyes Cauble

“Captain Mike” Schrader

Jessie (the other outlaw) James

SIG Sauer

Mikhail Timofeyevich Kalashnikov

Gene Vincent

George Brown, his brother Cliff, and legendary Vincent (Black Shadow) designer, Phil Irving

Michael (“Eschew obfuscation”) Barnes

Pink Floyd

 Lana and Andrew Wachowski

Tom Tykwer

 David Mitchell

John Cameron Mitchell

E.E. Cummings

Dylan Thomas

Bob Dylan

Ralph Waldo Emerson

James Marshall Hendrix

Eddy Van Halen

Stanley Jordan

Buzzy Feiten

The Whore of Armageddon

Each of these people, and many, many more have struck resonances within me, sometimes after the fact of my own realization or self-discovery, thereby validating and reinforcing something that was already there.

The above listing is only my “short list”, and I apologize for so many not listed there that may have momentarily escaped my deteriorating memory banks.

I believe all inspiration, and epiphanies come from the heavens, trapped in the ionosphere, bouncing, skipping, and returning like radio waves. How we interpret or assimilate those energies is what makes each of us unique.

Without sounding presumptuous, and to misquote and badly paraphrase Emerson…we all stand hand in hand, the whole world round…. They too, have their own set of influences, mentors, and even unconscious influences. I don’t know how much any of them struggled with deciding to quote or footnote all their sources….

I consider myself a casualty of my generation and our culture, as well as my own predisposition for excess, self-indulgence, self-abuse. and wanton disregard for laws or most conventions of polite society.

If my remarks, thoughts, ideas or choices of words should offend you, consider me like one would a madman, running naked through the streets, babbling an echolalia of rants inspired by ionic discharges of the atmosphere while my brain writhes in a series of capacitance as if it were attached to a lightning rod…and to quote Douglas Adams: “…mostly harmless….”. …And that’s on my good days, when I feel inspired enough to assert my will to live. It would appear that I am in little danger of sufficient notoriety to provoke much criticism on any global scale…so what’s the harm? I am but a messenger, a conduit through which I try to present that which inspires and flows through me as I attempt to Divine the Divine.

Namaste.

Apologia

Posted in Acknowledgement, Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Dirty, Drug Experience, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Erotic Poetry, Explicit Sexual Language, Fornicating, Fun, gratitutde, Imp Of The Perverse, Keep Coming Back, Liason Between Parties, longreads, Love, Mature Theme, Memoires of a Post-Neo Dharma Bum, Much Too Good For Children, NSFW, Philosophical Sexuality, Poetry, Polyamory, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Primate Romance/Adventure, Sex, Sexual Action/Adventure, The Id, Thorn Tree in the Garden with tags , , , , , , , , , , on October 25, 2014 by dreamlanddancing

Apologia

Even if you aren’t reading this,

this moment,

…these words

this testament

is for all of you,

as well as for each of you…

the heroines

of all my never-ending

torch songs.

Perhaps I wasn’t your best friend after all,

but not for nothing…

you can’t say I didn’t try.

I’m a weaver of dreams,

a conjuror of spells,

but I fear that

the realities

I brought you

did not live up

to the Great Expectations

I inspired

until I had thoroughly

disappointed

the Dickens out of you.

“I’m sorry”

I say

“Is there nothing I can do?”

I ask

as you sadly shake your head (“no”).

(Also not for nothing)

as a small part of me dies

inside.

This is what I do

time and again.

‘til you’d think

I would grow weary of it,

but no, I just grow so very,

very…very weary

of letting you down again.

I didn’t want to be that guy…

after all…

I was the guy who taught you

Grand Theft Auto

(and not the video game…)

The guy who took you

camping, or

fishing, or

smuggling,

or diving

or hunting

or running guns

or forbidden contraband

across state lines,

screwing

like cats in heat

at turnpike rest stops,

driving too many hours

with too little sleep

were it not for

“better living through chemistry”

.

You were the first to jump right in with me

scoring,

or eating

or snorting

or smoking

or shooting

or vaporizing

whatever magic

helped raise the ante

back when it was still fun

to live dangerously and without fear…

walking past chalklines

to do the Devil’s bidding

like it was a game of (hip-) hop-scotch

when copping a feel

or stolen kisses

still took

our breath away.

I was the guy

your parents

warned you about

even after they found me

charming, witty

and bright,

because they didn’t know

I was that other guy…

Of course that was

a big part

of the appeal….

I was the Serpent in the Garden

and you were my

Primordial Eve.

You became my

co-conspirator.

You followed me to

sleazy clubs

in basements

underground

or

practice houses

in bad neighborhoods,

a haunted house

way out in the country

next to a cemetery

where

no one else would live

or warehouse districts

or

wherever I could find a place

to play guitar

so loud you thought your

eyeballs would bleed

and your ears would ring for weeks

afterward,

where we would hold out

like outlaws

day and night.

You went with me

to pistol ranges,

rifle ranges,

and dojos,

living in houses

filled with

guns and ammo

(not the magazine….),

the walls of entire rooms

lined with amplifiers to the ceiling,

guarded by dangerous-looking dogs

who loved you

almost as much as me

and

would have killed for you

just as you would have for me

or I for you

even when it seemed like that moment

was just around the next turn in the story

and there was a knife and a gun

in every drawer

and under each pillow.

We slept in tents,

on floors

in cars and trucks,

or high-rise apartments

overlooking the bay

that we could never afford

were it not for the

generous benefactors

we chose to entertain.

We watched porn together.

We made porn together

and everything we did

was either Art or Music.

We painted everything in sight.

We sketched and photographed

each other

while we played and sang

with such conviction

I don’t know how

our hearts didn’t burst.

We learned to dance

the Apocalypso

on the razor’s edge

‘til dawn

and got up and did it

all over again.

We drove way too fast

through downtown traffic

any time of day

whichever way we were going,

or late at night

along the beach

or up on the Interstate,

illuminated by

flamingo-pink

sodium vapor lights;

stopping on the causeways

overlooking Biscayne Bay

just long enough

to remind each other of who we were

and just where we were

just then.

When every moment alive together

was a miracle.

We fucked on the perimeter road

around MIA

with the planes

maybe a hundred feet

above our heads,

engines screaming

and one eye

looking out for cops

with nothing better to do

than to wish

they could have been us.

No matter where we went

or what we did

it seemed like

I could talk my way

into or out of

anywhere or anything

and charm the birds

from out of the trees,

particularly

if it meant staying out of jail

…or worse

(and most especially if I thought

it might impress you.)

But most of all,

I let every one of you down

in one way or another.

…so many memories

of that defining moment

when you knew it was over,

leaving me to figure it all out later….

I played grasshopper to your ant

well into our winter of discontent.

It didn’t turn out

happily ever after…

it never has

and probably never will,

for me or you….

Maybe it never does.

I just hope you can look back

and remember

those few golden moments we shared

with the same fondness,

with the same lack of reservations

we shared back then

before we gave a thought

to how it all might end,

because it was the beginnings

and everything

in between

that made it all worthwhile

for me…

and each ending too beautifully

poignantly sad

to just be forgotten

back when I was just me

and you were just you

before we ever thought about tomorrow….

If I had the chance

to do it all over again

I’d do it all over you.

It just took me too long to realize

that just not being

a bad person

didn’t

necessarily

make me

a very good person.

(…but not for nothing)

You can’t say I didn’t try.

Quite a few did some of it with me.

A few did most of it with me.

Who can say they did all of it,

and gave their all

with all of me?

(You know who you are,

n’est-ce pas?)

Just you…

Because before there was you and me,

Darlin’

each one of the others

saw something special

to show me about myself

that took me higher,

‘tho some cut me low

before they were thru.

But I cannot deny

each one didn’t teach me

a thing or two

I hadn’t yet learned

so that maybe

it wouldn’t happen

the same way

to me and you.

So here we are now

just you and just me

and those wantonly

willing hostages

whomever

we take

as we continue

together

until

The End.

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