“I believe in justice and truth, without which there would be no basis for human hope” Dalai Lama
I feel like a composer, with no idea what his next composition will be about. So, I sit on the piano bench, dozing off between empty inspirations. It is not like I am sitting here, burning with a story I want to share. Actually, it feels quite the opposite,
Well, if I have nothing I am dying to share, why even bother with the piano bench exercise? The thing about having a creative urge is that it is usually accompanied by the need to express a feeling or thought. I got to be honest with you. I have been hurting very badly for a few weeks now. It feels like trying to run a race with my legs tied together. The need to write and feeling stuck just eats up energy, while being immobilized in silence.
I grew up in Queens, NYC in the fifties. Where I came from, being smart and getting good grades mattered. Being a good athlete was great for popularity. Suffering from world class shitty athleticism, I was challenged in that realm and relied on charm, before I knew it even had a name. Other than periodic drills, involving seeking safety from a nuclear blast under your desk, the world was a happy place for a kid.
Now, for those of you who have just read the prior three paragraphs, a confession is in order. I was struggling for the words and it was like not being able to see around the corner. I wasn’t even sure why I decided to go back to my childhood. Maybe, if I changed my seat, I’d get a better view. You get to sit up front when you’re small and while the view is better, you’re still learning the rules.
While we don’t believe anything is actually true today, it wasn’t the case back then. It was actually the opposite, we believed everything, all the myths. If I was African American and grew up in Jackson, MS, my story would be a different one, but I didn’t. Many people in the country were sleep walking the American Dream. While we have way too much information available now, from gold to garbage, there was a dearth of sources back then. You also believed what you read and what you were told. I am telling the truth about that.
We were taught the system worked. For a handful of months in the mid-fifties, the Army McCarthy hearings, broadcast for all to see, were early signs of country loyalty fracturing, fear being the engine driving this dislocation. Let me just say a quick word about antisemitism, very popular these days. Those hearings went after Jews. The fight against antisemitism today is bullshit, considering all the white, fat cats in Washington can’t stand Jews, never have. The huge distinction between being Jewish and Israeli has been ignored, because it is not good for the hate business.
When it came to our history, I believed what I read and learned. I grew out of the fairytale stories fairly young. Still, harsh critiques of the US were hard to come by. America was the Taylor Swift of the world. People from all over the world moved here and made their share of contributions to the evolution of this power house. With each change of administration, there were changes in how we conducted both our domestic and international affairs. There was like a political elasticity, veering left or right, depending upon the party in power.
Ladies and gentleman, you are now engaged in mind reading, my mind. On and off, over the past weeks, I have just felt creatively stuck, unable to write the way I have gotten used to over the years. I am writing this on a Saturday (10/4) morning. All of those above paragraphs were birthed with real prior difficulty. There has been a feeling of artifice for a while now. This morning, I got tired of looking at the above, stagnant paragraphs. So, I made a decision. I was going to get on Flaming Lips and ride over to RainbeauJo’s for a container of coffee. I rode over to the beach and leisurely sipped my coffee. I knew when I got home, the first line of this paragraph would be pretty much the way it reads.
I know I’ve shared in the past that sometimes my stories can take a week to get down, changes being made during the course of that time. What I am writing right now is about as real as it gets. I started this particular story thinking I could trace my history and how the current situation is a total shock, based on everything I learned as a youngster. I wish you could appreciate what “right now” means, because this is being written “right now.”
When I started this whole writing business, spontaneity was a critical piece. It prevented me from getting too serious, because distractions easily diffused my focus. It was also easy to make fun of Trump in the beginning, because he was nuts and spoke like a moron, a clown with a too long tie. With time exposing his evil agenda, It got me to feel increasingly serious about my stories, a trap for an undisciplined storyteller like yours truly.
In many ways, it feels like what is happening can’t possibly be happening. It is like a tug of war between Stephen King and Mel Brooks, with one problem. It is actually happening. It is a trap for me, because I find it incredibly difficult to believe some of this shit. Now, the NFL is in deep shit, because they booked Bad Bunny for their half time program. Where the fuck am I living?
I stopped having fun with you and I apologize. Actually, I am apologizing to both of us. I want my words to lighten our load. Anywhere you look today, you can find a sack of rocks to carry on your back and who the fuck needs my help?
Listen, I am no different than any of you guys. It probably seems like a stupid thing to say. I have just chosen to share what’s going on with me. The fact that I choose to write about it all doesn’t mean I am any better at this living business and maybe that’s what this is all about. We are all in this together and I am as screwed up as you are.
I feel better now.
LISTEN TO IT HERE:
https://www.buzzsprout.com/admin/1292459/episodes/17960045-trying