Showing posts with label advice for the young at heart. Show all posts
Showing posts with label advice for the young at heart. Show all posts

Thursday, September 15, 2016

A Treasure Of Quicksilver, In Time


What on earth
my eyes, half closed
half...unaware.

restless, almost asleep
my glance focuses into gaze.
soft light
shadows,
some parlance for joy muttered in another language.

quiet.

I don't know what I am waiting for...
sirens? Majesty?

Something untranslated...burning?

I came to herald you...but I ran aground on the moment

quiet, on the grassy field, covered in 35 mm,
coveted, consumed, like quicksilver

lost in a drain
lost like a derailed train
coaxed into the ether
a treasure of time,
history delineated into mystery,
misery, perjury, purgatory,
purchases, surcharges, and far off sounds imitating sinister hysterics...

quiet.

All is hidden here, in the moment,
stolen from the banging, semi-coherant draining
of the ceiling monster's clanging
inside tonight's apple-core head.
Spooling nothingness.

quiet...quiet, again.




-------------------------

Did you see it, There, in the faint misty drifts...?

Tuesday, June 9, 2015

You know you're from Fremont if you grew up in a town full of small minded, inbred bigots and anti-intellectuals

I was over Fremont 25+ years ago.

I think I just realized I am equally over the people on FB from Fremont as well. Its the same old problem of the mentality. The boorish, anti-intellectual, pull yourself up by your bootstraps, salt of the earth folks who think anyone rocking their boat, calling them on their bullshit and otherwise asking them to behave like reasonable people is a 'bully'.

Oh, if they only knew how little bullying they've gotten from me.

I've always known the place was riddled with homophobia, with racism, with heaping spoonfulls of hate. I think the lure of nostalgia, of feeling like perhaps there was enough strong memory to keep my interest up, was a hollow notion. Recently, I made the mistake of trying to get involved with what I thought would be a helathy debate about a public art piece-el mistako grande. The term pearls before swine comes to mind. Not only were they not interested in making a dialogue happen, but soon it turned into inane questions about topics totally unrelated, false analogies, false equivilencies, straw man arguments and just outright "stupid poopy head" grade school insults, It just didn't seem like bothering. Well thought out points were treated with disdain over differences in political affiliation, not the issues raised in the statements themselves. The last straw was being constantly attacked by a NIMBY republican whose only book listed as reading(a single book) was "How to drive liberals crazy" by some Breitbart quack-hack. They wanted to whine all day about not liking something being a reason it shouldn't exist. and hey we have potholes to fix and our school need that money! why do we even need public art?

Why did I even bother? Why do I bother trying to hold on to good memories from a place that continues to produce bad ones?

So, with that in mind I decided to leave the group. I didn't say anything or flame war my way out in a blaze of glory full of nasty insults, even though I was certainly getting quite a bit directed at me. No, I just went up to the box marked "notifications" and clicked 'leave group'. Done. I felt mad, like I was walking away from a fight someone else had picked. I was angry. I am still angry! But I knew that what was causing the anger because I had let myself get wrapped up in caring about something, and trying to engage others to do the same with what were my best, most inclusive statements. Why art was important. why public art installations are not cheap-why the $200,000 they spent on this very large site specific piece was actually quite cheap compared to some pieces out there. When I pointed out that people shouldn't complain if they weren't willing to get involved or pay for anything themselves, they finally went over the edge and called me a bully. They said I was 'too educated for my own good' I guess I must have threatened them too much or pressed their 'you're not a special snowflake' buttons too hard. The hen party harpies and homophobia came out, then the personal attacks began. I started realizing my pulse and stress level were so high my forehead felt hot. Why was I doing this again? Because I wanted public art to be taken seriously? In my hometown?

Other than one or two dissenting voices who showed support, it was a chorus of "I don't know much(or anything) about art, but I know I don't want any of that hippy faggot shit in my town!"

You know what? Fuck them. Fuck their willfully ignorant stance. and I don't mean book smarts, I just mean basic willingness to tolerate other people's desires without demonizes them. I don't want a drag strip in town, but I wouldn't object to one if they were to go through the proper channels. I don't like broccoli either but I don't go out of my way to hate on those who do. Well, I learned Fremont California doesn't work that way. If you don't like broccoli there you hate freedom. Hell, someone, with zero sarcasm, even called me a commie-pinko! Simply because I thought public art was worthwhile. So I didn't call them out with fluffy puppy, cotton-ball gentleness, which they neither deserved or were showing me. Often times when this had happened with others, there was a lot of public nastiness, cursing and big public announcements that "I AM LEAVING THIS GROUP!" followed by lame 'don't let the door hit you on the way asshole' comments. I'm taking the high road, and just leaving quietly. Fremont doesn't, nor has it ever deserved my attention or consideration. It was and is still a cultural wasteland. I don't miss it, and now I have even less need to interact with the assholes from within it today. So long Fremont FB group. Won't be missing you.

Make a wish. Count to ten. Time to dream again...

Sunday, October 31, 2010

Halloween

The witches tune
sung to the moon.
dark skies
and goblins
coming soon.
bauhaus plays in
the background of the
room, its gloom
here in October
the perfect
place to be.

Thursday, September 9, 2010

Love in the Moonlight

Two statues
for years
on pedestals in a park.
on permanent parade.
110 in the shade
days go on
and on the same,
the seasons revolve
around the two of them.
like flowers around
the sun
no heliotrophic action
for all the stillness
of nature
to be undone.
How history passes
them by
corrosion grows
through their
eyes.
no need for faith
even if the
seas rise.
They stare
at one another
ever steady
in any weather
white and chalk
and green and gray
until one night
when lightning strikes
animated arms
and shields and books
wrestle free
amongst the trees
joints creak
and burst,
silent cement
speaks its first
across the years
one thing sears
memory; thirst.
To hold
to stroll,
don't know how long
we have freedom,
we may not
travel to foreign lands
but at least we can each
if just across
the park,
hold hands.

(In the morning, both statues have returned to their former positions, resting atop their pedestals. But for the faint scratches and brushed off moss, did they move at all? No one knows what happened that night in the park.)