Dear Mary Angel

Happy New Year,
  
      A lot has happened in the past year, most of them realizations I've made; not things you can hold in your hand, but nonetheless significant in terms of what I've managed to accomplish. For one, I've discovered who I am. This may sound crazy-- fifty-five years old and finally understanding this basic truism, but...

     Most everyone tends to identify themselves with their job-title, "I'm a doctor, I'm a janitor," and that's fine if that's all they aspire to be. If the purpose of their lives-- the great driving force and motivation, was to become a janitor? Okay. But I believe very few people, if they were honest with themselves, sees their occupation as the great driving force of their lives; their reason to be.

     Take me, for instance. I've been a cook, a dishwasher, an X-ray supply tech. I've worked on the crew boats off the Texas and Louisiana coasts, I've strung cable for a cable company in Arkansas, I've managed a restaurant, I've produced the five, six, and ten o'clock news at a local station, I've worked on the web, built advertising, edited and made commercials. I've managed to squeeze in a lot of  jobs in thirty-nine years, and yet, not a single one of them told the story of WHO I was at any given time. Who I am is a much larger story. It has taken the whole of my life tell. And it is not defined by any time-clock I've ever punched.

     I am an Artist, broadly speaking, but more specifically, a writer, and a poet. Whether or not I ever earn a living as a poet and writer is irrelevant, because these are the driving forces that propel me forward. They are my reasons to be. These are the gifts God has given me; my talents. And I dare not bury them in the sand.

     I believe that if everyone in the world were allowed and encouraged to nurture and grow that seed of "Being" within them, this would be a much calmer, more peaceful planet. Within everyone is a desire to create. We can't but help desire the art of creation; this desire was forged into every cell of our bodies from conception. This is the closest we get to being like Him, in this life.

     I wish you all the best in this coming year. I wish you peace, love, and a greater, deeper longing for the You God created you to be.

All my love


E
 

it

 

storiEs

Little designs, and maps, and drawings; all fodder for the story in utero. My current project, under the working title, The Other Room, requires all these, and more. I have to be able to see the place to describe it... and tell the story.

eulogY

My heart is a spark
On an ember softly dying
My love is a whim
A dream in the corner crying
    It's eyes filled with weeping
    Lines of kohl in sorrow streaming
My soul is bereft
That my sister lies here dreaming
Yet my hope is eternal
knowing she's in His presence singing
    O, God of my salvation
    For You, my heart's prostration
I will praise Thee
Praise Thee
And praise Thee ever more


ELAshley
121508.123809.1 - lines 1-7
030915.093816.6 - lines 8-15

thE other room

I've begun a new project that, for the moment, I'm titling The Other Room. Newly adopted Freya Greyl is only fourteen years old, and with the adoption comes an old weathered and faded manilla envelope with a small scrap of iron bearing a strange glyph, and a drawing... a diagram of a key.

In time the key shows her to another room within the room given to her by her adoptive parents. This Other Room, however, is as large as a world, pristine and devoid of anything, to her knowledge, other than a small island in the center of lake, the small empty cottage that sits upon it, and a forge.

I'm not at all sure of where this one will go. But I do know it is an allegory of sorts. It's not written with adults in mind, but neither is it written for young readers. There will be adult themes. There will be courage, integrity, treachery and death. Not a C.S. Lewis styled allegory, but close.

frustrations

 The last couple of years haven't been easy. The last few months even worse. At the risk of sounding too much like our First Lady, I have never been more ashamed of my country, in my entire adult life, than I am now. I hate what the president has done to us. But enough of that.... I never thought I'd be this close to homelessness. My wife can't find work, and the work I have, while rewarding personally, doesn't pay the bills. A few sentences back I made more than a suggestion as to the reasons for my dissatisfaction with the way things in this country, and my own personal life have gone.

I am NOT better off than I was 6 years ago, and I have a truculent, self-aggrandizing-- as well as media aggrandized --leader to thank for that. He is puerile and borderline evil. A man who repeatedly says he's neither king or dictator, and yet does everything such leaders do... rule by decree. 








I hate the old, now resurrected style of skin tight leggings I see on women everywhere. Like right now, at the library, I'm sitting at a computer, and there's a woman bending over in front of me not three feet away, looking at books. Nothing is left to the imagination. I can clearly see every curve, cut and line of her buttocks, legs, and 'inbetweens' (i'd hope she'd be offended or even ashamed that I'm writing about her ass right this very minute!). These are things I don't need to be looking at... it's too much fodder for fantasy! Worse still are all the obese women affecting the same 'fashion sense' ...every curve, cut, line, and lump.

 I'm a man. I eat with my eyes. Women complain that men don't pay them enough attention, yet complain all the more when the attention they do get is not what they had hoped for, or had in mind when they dressed for the day. If she walks into my view wearing skin tight top and bottoms, I'm going to look... she has to know that. 

after two yEars of time and time

It's Monday. It's a new year... two have passed, in fact, since last I posted here. Lot's of things happened between last post and this, and I won't try to update anything. This is a new post. Period. I'm just glad to be back.


Keeping in theme with my last post of two years ago, I have managed to get through the weeds of figuring out how to get my characters off the mountain, and into the new universe, and the continent and magic of Tamarast. I've been doing a lot of thinking on this and, while watching a " twilight" marathon on FX yesterday afternoon it came to me quite suddenly. The solution even allows me to avoid the whole "returning to the Consolidation" and all the plot point nightmares that would undoubtedly have gendered.


The second book in my proposed trilogy would have been the "Return to the Consolidation," and would have been boring beyond belief... to me--if I'd have had to write that block of nonsense the story I have in my head would never get finished. This new solution saves me the effort of writing something that would have ultimately been a nightmare, and save readers the time and disappointment that RttC would have been. By avoiding RttC, I'll get to keep my readers.


I've managed, as well, to figure out why my group of Muslims were so intent on destroying the project, stranding my pilgrims and them 11,000 years in the past. As it turned out the solution was quite simple. Now, I don't have to spend an entire novel in the Appalachians with Tel and Mina and the rest of my mountain community. Elias and his crew can do their damage and Tel can save his father, and the solution can be part of the whole beginning of what I've been calling "Rabbit On The Mountain". Discussed, at least, as part of setting the stage for what follows. "Rabbit on the Mountain" doesn't have to be a full length novel and "Return to the Consolidation" doesn't have to written at all.


Hooray, for me. Now I can focus solely on the getting to Tamarast and the wars that follow.

a light at thE end of a very long tunnel

I've managed to finish a rough 'sketch' of In the Gardens of Loveplay, my novel in the works. A brief introduction and the first two titled 'chapters' can be read here. A lot more is written than just this small portion, but much of it has been written out of turn (or order) and those parts wouldn't offer much more than uncontextualized snapshots. But I am posting my summary of chapter titles (subject to change, of course). I am also in the process of developing artwork for the project.

Anything you read within parenthesis are notes to myself, and not part of that portion's title.

Here is the Forward:

This is a story of Venice, but not the Venice you may have visited, or once lived, or dreamt of seeing. This is also a story of love. But what else would such a tale be about? It is a tale of conspiracies, jealousies, broken hearts and the binding of two souls, one to the other. Within these pages you will find a world strangely at peace, boats that float on air, and an angel in search of redemption.

"In the Gardens of Loveplay"

Introduction - What We Shall Find

1 - a Priori - A Glimpse of Heaven
2 - The Severing of Ties
3 - Conspiracy of Love
4 - For Love of a Good Wine

Interlude I - The Last Great War (Diary Excerpts, and Poem)

5 - The Confessional
6 - Early Summer
7 - Walking the Gardens
8 - Aldo I
9 - In the House of Her Sisters I
10 - In the House of the Winepresser
11 - In the House of the Gondolier I
12 - Summer
13 - Rome
14 - Aldo II
15 - Pia I

Interlude II - Leptus Magnus (Plus Poem "Dinner Among the Ruins")

16 - The Inn at Vesuvius
17 - Abandoning the Arbor
18 - Early Fall
19 - Pia II
20 - Dinner and a Kiss I
21 - Late Fall
22 - Aldo III
23 - In the House of the Gondolier II
24 - Winter I - Separate Tables
25 - Winter II - Similar Loves
26 - An Exchange of Gifts
27 - Lisbon
28 - Dinner and a Kiss II

Interlude III - The Dance  (A Poem in Four Parts)

29 - In the House of Her Sisters II
30 - In the House of the Gondolier III
31 - The Inn at Vesuvius
32 - Late Winter
33 -The Patron Saint of Lovers

Interlude IV - To Paris - Precursor to Spring

34 - Early Spring
35 - The Peregrination
36 - In the House of the Winepresser II
37 - Return to the Arbor
38 - The Lowering of Masks
39 - The Confessional II
40 - In the Garden of Loveplay  (Plus Poem)
41 - Walking the Garden II
42 - Dinner and  a Kiss III
43 - Aldo IV
44 - The Invitation (to marriage)
45 - Pia III

Interlude V - In the House of Her Sisters III  (Poem)

46 - Preparation and Separation
47 - In the House of the Gondolier III
48 - The Final Veil
49 - Carne Una
50 - There is But One Kiss  (Includes Poem)

Interlude VI - Carnivale

51 - The Floating Boats
52 - In the Gardens of Loveplay
53 - Till the Lanterns All Burned Down
54 - Subter Astralis Caelum

Interlude VII - Perfection in Romance (Includes Poem)

55 - Isabella

Epilogue - Selah

56 - Christien Vernay, from Father to Son
57 - Don't Dream It's Over

Everything is, for the most part, mapped out. There's still some reconciliation to be done, but those points will be minor. The greater task of plotting this eleven year-old monster out is, at long last, complete. Now begins the serious task of linking all the prose presently written with those portions which must fill in all the remaining gaps-- all the poetry is written, all that remains is prose. The artwork will take longer, but I only need a few key pieces to begin the process of publication.

As a side note, notice that there are nine sections including the Introduction and Epilogue. Nine is significant because it represents finality; the end of a matter, or the fulfillment or consummation of a matter. Interestingly enough (to me, at least) my arriving at this number, in this manner, was unintended. When I looked at the number of Interludes I saw seven, then wondered what the significance of nine would be adding the Introduction and Epilogue. The answer, I discovered, was both surprising and curiously apropos. 

None of these chapters (except one of the poems) will exceed ten pages of print, not including artwork, so right now I'm looking at between 350 and 500 pages.

all my hEroes are going to ground...

Jean "Moebius" Giraud: 1938-2012

This is the man who both fascinated and inspired me-- more than any other artist --to be myself in everything I drew; to develop my own style and vision.


Most of you won't even know him... that is, until I tell you one of his stories can be found in the early 1980's film Heavy Metal.

I first met Moebius in Heavy Metal Magazine with the adventures of John Difool in "The Incal," and later with his graphic novel, "The Airtight Garage." I have always admired his work; his visionary worlds and concepts. He took the simple stroke of pen and made it beautiful. I wanted to draw like... still want to draw like him. I want his portion; the one God gave him.

A poster he painted for environmental conservation is directly responsible for the main element of a short story wrote eleven years ago; a story that is growing into a full length novel.

He took the ordinary and made it extraordinary by asking, "what if I...?" He paid attention to detail without drawing every detail. He extracted the beauty from the banal, forcing the simple lines to show what world-weary eyes often miss. to recognize And that's all I've been trying to do my entire life. Sometimes I've found my visions to be on the same par if not caliber. But his is the standard to which I've always looked.

There are certainly other artist I admire... Maxfield Parrish for one, Michael Parks, for another. Picasso before cubism (specifically his Rose Period)... but I can't help but love the man who gave sight to many of my own personal visions.

May God grant him peace.

if ever i nEed a song to sing....

Not Another Minute (Without You)

Dear God
Where are you in my life?
Where am I? In the light?
Or deep in shadow? tell me now, Oh Lord
God
My heart is near to breaking
In the pains of my own making
Touch me now, Oh Lord
I can't take another minute without you

Dear God
Do you love me even still?
As when I was in your will?
Or was I ever? tell me now, Oh Lord
God
The emptiness is killing me
Like harps hung in the willow tree
Touch me now, Oh Lord
I won't last another moment without you

Touch me Lord
Fill me with your Holy Spirit
By the blood of your son,
Oh sweet Jesus, please be mine
Touch me Lord and let me know that I'm still loved
Wash me clean from all the sins I bear
Let me feel your presence everywhere
But especially, Lord, heal my soul

Dear God
Must I spend my lifetime weeping?
Pray my soul that you'll be keeping?
When my last breath is spent? tell me now, Oh Lord
God
I want to spend my whole life loving you
Free of guilt and shame~ just loving you
Touch me now, or when it pleases you
Restore my soul, I beg of you
Touch me now, Oh Lord
I can't take another minute...
No, not another minute without you


ELAshley
030512.031842.6

A song... in the vein of ...Roland Orzibal's Mad World ...dark and despairing. Or perhaps not so dark... something along the lines of Twila Paris or Michael W. Smith? I'm still working out the melody.


 

wednesday's child this friday morn...

"Mountains, Hills, and Mounds of Earth"

There were flowers strewn
O’er mountains, hills and mounds of dirt
Cov’ring over every hurt
Now gone. Cruelly hewn
And felt no more
Honeysuckle in the air
Sweet on winds run through your hair
As you lay lying there
To feel again no more

I cried a lover’s tears
O’er mountains, hills and mounds of earth
Counting all I thought it worth
Now gone. How it sears
This heart for evermore
Strains of birdsong in the air
Singing gaily and unaware
Of you, love, lying there
To feel again no more

Heaven weeps to know you’re gone
From my side, yet not for long
Each day will seem eternity
Until your face again I see

Sore despond I threw me down
O’er mountains, hills and mounds of clay
My every cry a dirg'ed lay
Swearing I would rather drown
That I might feel again no more
Honeysuckle in the air
Sweet on winds run through my hair
‘tis grief you see now standing there
a breath and cry away from where
You feel again no more


ELAshley
030212.104326.1
Revisions:
031212.013950.6

all my hEroes are going to ground

David Thomas "Davy" Jones
Dec 20, 1945  -  Feb 29, 2012

I spent much of the mid to late sixties in Spain, but I remember how delighted I was at just 9 years old to discover, upon returning to the states, that television in America did not feature endless reruns of Roger Ramjet, and the Adventures of Rocky & Bullwinkle. All of a sudden there were real Saturday morning cartoons like Johnny Quest, Scooby Doo, Here Comes the Grump, H.R. Puffinstuff and, of course, The Monkees.

I loved the show, loved their only movie Head, and even loved waxing nostalgic when MTV ran constant reruns way back when MTV was actually "Music Television." In that much simpler time, there were records on the back of cereal boxes; The Archies, Jackson 5, Josie & the Pussycats, Bobby Sherman, & The Monkees. I remember asking my mom to buy Honey Combs Cereal just to get the Monkees' Valleri. The quality was crap, but come on! Music on the back of a cereal box? What could be cooler than that to a 10-year old?

Years later, I remember an interview I saw with Davy Jones some years after the Monkees' reunion during which Davy spoke about how hard and lean the years were between the end of The Monkees and their reunion. He said, and I paraphrase, when you have money and fame, when you're on top of the world, everyone want to give you money. But when you're out of the limelight, you can't even get a bank loan; no one will give you anything, even if you really need it.

That bit of interview has stayed with me; mostly because it's a sad epitaph to our culture of celebrity.

In the end Davy Jones landed on his feet, and I love him for it. He leaves behind a wife and four daughters, and three band mates. His last performance was a solo gig on February 19th, in Oklahoma.

David Thomas "Davy" Jones

Just last August, when I was turning 51, Davy himself was quoted as saying, somewhat prophetically, "I used to be a heartthrob, now I'm a coronary." Oddly enough, he died on Leap Day. And, as Davy was himself a consummate joker, I feel free to add my own sad quip... He was kind enough to die on a day we won't have to think about more than once every four years. 

But that's not true. I'll remember him every time I listen to a Monkees CD, or watch (for the umpteenth time) the movie "Head," which I must say lives up to its billing in the film's intro... These guys were a class act, and never took themselves too seriously.



From the intro to Head:


"Ditty Diego - War Chant"
 [Listen]

Well? [Mike]
Are you kidding? [Groupie]
Hey now wait a minute! [Mike]

Hey hey we are the Monkees
You know we love to please
A manufactured image
With no philosophies

We hope you like our story
Although there isn't one
That is to say there's many
That way there is more fun

You told us you like action
And games of many kinds
You like to dance, we like to sing
So let's all lose our minds!

We know it doesn't matter,
Cause what you came to see
Is what we'd love to give you,
And give it one, two, three! 

But there may come three, two, one, two
Or jump from nine to five,
And when you see the end in sight
The beginning may arrive!

For those who look for meaning,
And form as they do facts,
We might tell you one thing
But we'd only take it back

Not back like in a box back
Not back like in a race,
Not back so we can keep it,
But back in time and space!

You say we're manufactured,
To that we all agree,
So make you choice and we'll rejoice
In never being free!

Hey hey we are the Monkees,
We've said it all before
The money's in we're made of tin
We're here to give you more!

The money's in we're made of tin
We're here to give you...

Goodbye, Davy. It was all in good fun. Thanks for all the memories, and may God grant you peace and rest, and comfort to family and friends, and fans worldwide.

Because you were such a big part of our lives growing up, we are all Monkees now.

fast, faster, fastest

You know what? I like The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift. I like it a lot. I watched it Saturday afternoon for the 4th or 5th time. I know it catches a lot go flack, but the haters are just ticked that it's not a Vin Diesel flick. But I love Lucas Black. I don't think we get to see enough of this young man in movies or TV. I know, I know, Tokyo Drift is basically "Karate Kid" with ricers... albeit fast ones... but I love just love this movie.

In all fairness to the film, the second outing 2 Fast, 2 Furious isn't a great film at all. It's a very poor sophomore outing (on it's own*) with a weak plot, though it does advance the mythology somewhat (as did Tokyo Drift), but the way I see it, the first two films enjoyed some continuity in that Paul Walker stars in both. The third outing, Tokyo Drift messes with the continuity thing very differently, in that Vin Diesel shows up at the end, and one main character, Han, dies... which is strange, because Han is in Fast and Furious, the 4th film. The events of Fast and Furious take place before the third film, as one scene shows Han saying he's going to Tokyo where he's heard about an interesting racing scene happening. Strange continuity, but I love these films... especially Tokyo Drift. But Lucas Black is a good actor, and has far more depth than the likes of Shia LeBeouf!

*Strange Continuity - It's all explained here.





One of the most intriguing lines in Tokyo Drift, to me, is what the Yakuza uncle said to his nephew in reprimand... for an "overlooked detail"...

For want of a nail, the horseshoe was lost
For want of a horseshoe the steed was lost
For want of a steed the message was undelivered
For want of the undelivered message the war was lost

Speed-- too much of it --allows for greater slacking in one's attention to detail. No detail is trivial. Every step on any journey of any distance is important.




Scientists have proven wrong, it is feared, the foundation upon which modern physics is built.

Speed of light 'broken' at CERN, scientists claim

The science world was left in shock when workers at the world’s largest physics lab announced they had recorded subatomic particles travelling faster than the speed of light.

If the findings are proven to be accurate, they would overturn one of the pillars of the Standard Model of physics, which explains the way the universe and everything within it works.

Einstein’s theory of special relativity, proposed in 1905, states that nothing in the universe can travel faster than the speed of light in a vacuum. But researchers at the CERN lab near Geneva claim they have recorded neutrinos, a type of tiny particle, travelling faster than the barrier of 186,282 miles (299,792 kilometers) per second.

The results have so astounded researchers that American and Japanese scientists have been asked to verify the results before they are confirmed as a discovery.

If it turns out to be true, don't expect too many people to be banging the drum for the "new world order" in the physical world. Change comes slowly to enlightened thinkers. Especially when said change threatens to alter the established order; careers, fortunes, prestige, and power could be lost. Truth get's blurred when fortunes, careers, and power structures are threatened.

German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer (1788 - 1860) had this to say about Truth...

"All truth passes through three stages. First, it is ridiculed. Second, it is violently opposed. Third, it is accepted as being self-evident."

This is seen even today in the fields of medicine and physical science. As it was in the days of Galileo, so it is today: western medicine, man-made global warming, evolution. Anyone who publicly doubts these canons is branded a heretic, or 'flat-earther,' and no better than a racist.

Regarding Medicine and Physical Science, there is too much money to be made off the fear of the eschewing the former to lift its metaphorical boot from the throats of its victims, and too much ideological capital already spent to allow the latter to ever admit its obvious flaws.

Here's a truth: The unregenerate heart will always seek to build its fortune on fear, be it of the personal or the preying upon variety, and fear will drive it to untold mongeries to build its fortunes higher than mere necessity dictates.

Avarice is king, necessity and truth be damned.

great quote

"You can only eat so much corn..."

--Terri B.

Truer words were never spoken... today, at least.

twenty-seven, dung bEetles, & epitaphs

What do Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin, Brian Jones, Kurt Kobain, and now Amy Winehouse have in common?

The number twenty-seven... the age at which each of them died-- Welcome Miss Winehouse, you have been unceremoniously ushered into an auspicious, albeit rare, company.

Have you ever seen video of a dung beetle pushing a ball of poop around? That little ball of shit is this particular beetle's lifeline. It defines who and what this particular insect is.

Now look at the above names; members of the 27 Club. Each of them was pushing their own ball of crap around, and in the end that ball of crap is what defines them. Some will naturally protest that and say it was their music which defined them, but I would have to argue against that point. And here's why...

Music is what they did; they were good at it, and are famous for it. They each made a name for themselves because of it, and made-- or were in the process of making --enough money to change their individual paradigms. But none of the above mentioned 'artists' were able to stop pushing the shit that defined what they thought of themselves. The reason I put it this way is I've been there. Drugs defined who I was for a time-- an addict. I was, of course, much more than that I was an artist too... still am, but back then drugs colored every other thing I did-- just as it colored everything the 27 Club did in their own lives.

'Drugs' was the ball of shit I pushed around. It was the ball of shit they pushed around. But unlike Sisyphus, they weren't 'chained' to the futility of rolling that ball of shite up the hill. Had they only opened their eyes to their own sense of self-worth, they could have abandoned that ball of crap and moved on, and, in all likelihood lived to a ripe old age with many accolades to their name. Now, in spite of their talent, 'overdose' is the one accolade that will color every other accolade they managed in their short lives.

For myself, I managed to see that ball for what it was... when I was twenty-seven. I've been rid of it for more than two decades now.

Amy Winehouse, like every other member of the 27 Club, is now rid of that ball of shit too. But what separates me and Amy Winehouse, aside from fame, fortune, and good looks, is I managed to walk away, and the name I carry today is untainted by the ball I shit I pushed around. Unfortunately, like all the other members in that sad club, her name will carry with it the unfortunate addendum *drug addict; died of an overdose.

That's a very sad legacy to leave behind, and a poor epitaph to the talent she had on loan from God.

May HE have mercy on her soul.