Woops, I stand corrected. As a very smart reader named CJ pointed out, I misquoted Will Rogers. The quote from yesterday should read; "I'm not a member of any organized political party, I'm a Democrat!" Thank you!
1:21 PM :

Thursday, January 30, 2003
I take this off the shelf when I'm bored, which happens rather infrequently. I take it off the shelf when I'm blocked, need a break, need a laugh or need to look like I'm doing something productive (looking off into space day dreaming about sex, food, life, sex, design, or painting or sex.) For a few minutes each day, I'm hypnotized by words set in Walbaum type, a partial autobiography in less than 500 or so pages. A surprising simplicity where lately, I can only find the complex. and I'm quoting directly; Gore Vidal's 'Palimpsest a Memoir', p.151-152...

'This trifling episode illustrated the casual yet condescending attitude of certain foreigners towards the young Italians they cultivated on account of their Latin charm, without any interest in their character, aspirations or desires.' This sentiment or sentimentality could be put just as well the other way around - and with far more accuracy. Italian 'trade' has never had much interest in the character, aspirations, or desires of those to whom they rent their ass. When (Harold) Acton meditates upon the Italian Boy, a sweet sickly hypocrisy clouds his usually sharp prose and we are in E.M. Foresterland, where the lower orders (male) are worshipped and entirely misunderstood. But magnum of sour grapes to one side, Acton is by no means inaccurate. Certainly he got right Tennessee's (Williams) indifference to place, art, history. The Bird seldom read a book, and the only history he knew was his own; he depended, finally, on a romantic genius to get him through life. Above all, he was a survivor.'

and even more about the total freedom of life in that Rome of 1948, Raefello and mimosa! Revealing Jocko's unnatural love for Tennessee Williams, not yet ready to reveal his seriously unnatural love of Carson McCullers, not to mention, Miss Olive Ann Burns. Let's continue on with more Gore Vidal shall we?

Tennessee could not possess his own life until he had written about it. This is common. To start with, there would be, let us say, a sexual desire for someone. Consummated or not, the desire (something that is made to occupy a larger space than that which is afforded by the individual being') would produce reveries. In turn, the reveries would he written down as a story. But should the desire still remain unfulfilled, he would make a play of the story and then - and this is why he was so compulsive a playwright - he would have the play produced so he could, at relative leisure, like God, rearrange his original experience into something that was no longer God's and unpossessable, but his.

Great stuff, if you are lucky, moving through life, you may get to name a dog, a cat, a goldfish, render a nickname for someone, name a child or change yours...but as a writer, as an artist, you get the chance to 'name' or 'title' on a regular basis. Great fun.

When I mention 'the complex', I am referring to the state of life in these United States. It's odd, seeing an old friend off, but off to play 'war' is even more odd. Support for President Bush, or conservative political thought in any fashion, is foreign to me. I don't think I have ever felt that the Democrats have served MY interests, but they have come close, and therefore an affinity or affiliation by default. The most accurate comment comes from Will Rogers who once said that 'he didn't belong to any particular political party, he was a democrat.' Hilarious and all too representative of what is essentially an umbrella party. All too easy to fall into the 'us against them' mindset, and that does what? Yep, I would love a choice, a third party, but a choice of what or for whom? Perhaps just a choice will do for now and please save all your letters about Ralph Nader. I was thinking the other day, I wonder how all of 'this' is playing in Europe, hard to judge given the words from liberal, highly outspoken expats hauled up on the continent. I can say that everyone I know is questioning pending action in Iraq and hesitant to beat any war drums. A friend of mine put it another way, Iraq is the 'crackhouse' of the world, if you had a 'crackhouse' in your neighborhood, you would want it out. Good point. Not that I can't be convinced to support a war against a madman, if there is evidence he is hiding biological weapons, and of course, action on a global level. Sitting at the airport the other day watching countless men and women haul giant green duffel bags through bomb scanners departing and reporting for duty. Hitting close to home, sure, so many of my friends are active duty or reservists, called up, or close to getting shipped over seas. Nobody wants to go and invade or fight, but feel they have no choice. A few are gay and still serving, the argument arises of how can they serve in organizations that are prejudiced against them? It is the ultimate sacrifice, putting the 'self' aside to contribute in a very specific way. An honorable decision for some, for others a way out of suffocating situations or limited opportunity. You weigh your options, cut your losses, mark your gains and take a chance. I'm sitting the fence, the state of my union is ummm Sir, undecided and uneasy. Respect the beautiful part of dissent. It's part of the process, part of the plan and part of the politics that make everything, now and for quite sometime, complex. I'm willing to listen, not that any sort of Presidential speech is going to clear any of this up mind you, or that one Wolfe Blitzer is going to give you anything but a spin job. Blah blah blah more of the same, get prepared because I think it's a matter of here we go again and that's NOT beating a war drum.

Indulge your inner Busby Berkley and see Chicago, which as my good friend David puts it 'made my head explode'. Yep, mine too. All that Fosse made for one hell of a spin and grin. Zeta Jones works the Louise Brooks thing vamping the hell out of her part. Zellweger mines Harlowe gold in Marilyn Monroeville. Mr. Richard Gere does a fierce Al Jolson. The Queen, that's Latifah to you, is magnificently saucy in that oh so Besse Smith sort of way. I nearly fell off the theater seat spotting Chita Rivera as Nickie. I smell Oscar gold, but alas, it's going to have to go a few rounds with 'The Hours'. Thank God for the escape of good films.

9:52 PM :

Tuesday, January 28, 2003
I know this is getting a bit stale, but I can guarantee you, it isn't intentional. Freelance projects call, one I am particularly excited about, a collaboration, looking forward to it's launch, stay tuned. In the midst of all this chaos, a friend that I haven't seen in about 4 years has a 3 hour layover on his way to play war, yikes. Time to put the work away for a little bit, ahhh priorities. In closing, I can't explain the following cryptic message but someday soon I will. The man with the blue head strikes me as...you finish that sentence, you always find the right things to say? I'm talking in code and following the clues, adult profile on Yahoo, it all strikes me as so very NC-17. Do the hustle.
1:30 PM :