Tuesday, November 29, 2005


WEEK (weak) 21
Here we go again.
You know how you get in a rut and it goes on for so long that you just can’t stand it anymore? This week I decided I’d better get moving again before I turn into dust. A good sleep does wonders.
Well I got myself up to start the week and a nice guitar arrived at my door via Expedited Mail Services. A candy grape delight called Jaguar. It is loaded with humbuckers instead of the traditional single coil pickups. Nice axe -- I’m having fun struggling with the intonation.
Everyday I play human pincushion. I’ve become as used to it as can be expected but still twinge little at the thought of having to deal with it.
As weak as I feel, I know I must become active again. Even (especially) the yoga is a struggle, and I don’t feel like I can do it justice until I regain some strength. It’s downright scary. My body isn’t too bad, but if you looked at my limbs you’d wonder what in the hell happened. I kind of look like one of those Don Martin characters that appeared in Mad Magazine back in the sixties: potato torso, wiener arms and legs, hair going in electrostatic directions. It isn’t like the movies in which a guy decides to make a change and the film suddenly catapults through a sequence of speed motion scenes of him running on a track, lifting weights furiously, chowing on salads and doing jumping jacks in front of the TV watching Carmen Electra workout.
Other than that, I’m happy enough.
I was looking at a poster depicting a Ronald Reagan commemorative stamp while standing in line at the post office today. My God, it seems no matter what any of these lunatics did in the service of our nation, it’s ok, and… they get a stamp! It’ll be interesting to see how the future glamorizes Bush’s moment of torching the countryside for heretics and dissenters. Now for old Bill Clinton, he gets the black ball yet he’s the best of the lot. Like Henry VIII, Clinton and Henry suffer prejudice attached to a sexually loaded situation. Henry VIII created separation of church and state. Is that bad? Sex…mmm…good.
Oh, I’m sure Bill will get his stamp some day. History may forget the “B.J,” in time, but maybe not. People love that stuff. It’s what everybody loves to talk about, especially if it’s someone else. I want him to get a stamp because of it!
See Ya.

Sunday, November 27, 2005



Honestly, sometimes it’s just hard to find anything I feel like talking about. I’m sick of repeating myself about my physical state. I’m exhausted with talking about the treatment, the drugs, the side effects, and all that I feel on account of it, and…. I’m a week behind with my entry. Still, I owe an installment and something must appear or I’ll be cursed.
Last week I got an alumni association hard cover book listing every one who’s ever graduated from Cass Technical High School in Detroit since it’s inception as a public school in about 1928 or so. That list comprises essentially an index of every graduating class and the names of the graduates. The first half of the book is dedicated to listing individuals, their whereabouts, occupations, and contact info if the organization was able to locate and gather any current information. Obviously, many of the people who were part of the 600+ that graduated in 1961 have disappeared from the radar. Interestingly, I found a few names that mattered in some vague way. Aside from myself, there were three other characters from the art department that had some current information. They are Jim Latimer, Arthur Dworin, and Ron Whyte.
Jim Latimer and I were pretty good friends in the last year of high school and then also for a while at Wayne State University. We recently have been in touch through a quirk of fate where his brother came to the Amoeba record store performance in September and volunteered to put me in touch with Jim. Jim is now living in Minneapolis, Minnesota. He is a published writer/ illustrator, storyteller, and psychologist. He has several degrees and I’m very proud of him. Some day we will get together and recall our lives to each other. In our email exchanges I asked him if he remembered Arthur Dworin.
Arthur was a remarkable character because while we all were clamoring to become commercial artists, Arthur Dworin was playing out a sincere role as a serious, sensuous, impassioned painter. It was a touch of the Van Gogh and a dash of Verrochio. He had wild, skyward tousled hair, and looked half- mad, as if he was about to come unglued. He was quite an antithesis to the common commercial art student of the time. He made an impression on me though I really didn’t know him. No one knew him. He was a mystery. He now lives in New York City and is a videographic artist. I suspect he is still a passionate, creative individual and successful in his own right. Jim Latimer had bemusingly commented, “Yeah, Arthur…I wonder whatever happened to him?”.
The third character, Ronald Whyte, was the “star” of the art department. He was fastidious and meticulous in his work and his drawing had that look about it. He was awarded a scholarship to Art Center School of Design, in Pasadena, California, (my new hometown), and in everyone's eyes he was a shoo-in to be a successful artist. He was the opposite pole from Dworins’ insatiable painter geek. Ron Whyte lives not too far from Pasadena, near Palm Springs, and he is a self-employed artist. I don’t doubt that he is successful. I didn’t really know Ron in school. Yet, he also made a lasting impression on me.
My listing states my occupation as “rock star”. I’m sure if any of these guys ever read that, and if they remembered me at all they probably wouldn’t comprehend it. Of course Latimer was well aware of my career and music. So, it’s also possible Dworin and Whyte have some awareness of me.
All the other names in the book seem irrelevant. A couple of people that I wondered about were “whereabouts unknown,” but on the whole these few names are symbolic of my high school days. If I were so inclined I would be tempted to contact these persons, but then again, I wonder what for? Apart from James Latimer, with whom I had an actual friendship, there really isn’t any point in hashing up old stories with old people that I never knew. I’m really just satisfied to know that they are somewhere and doing what they like to do. Vaya con Dios, amigos.

I’ve been in the treatment tank for 5 months now… alcohol-free for nearly 11. I don’t feel “good” and I don’t feel “bad”. I feel lucky. I feel lucky to be where I am, who I am, what I am, doing what I’m doing, and to be with who I’m with. I feel lucky that fate has given me a mission to “make it right” and "make it right now”. The holiday season is started, and for once I feel a sense of contentment and anticipation. No matter what anyone's beliefs may be, I sincerely hope for all to enjoy and appreciate the experience of friends and family. I also want to extend my deepest, most profound and humble wish that the human race with all its complexity will find a way to shine its light on all of humanity and respect the majesty of the universe. And don’t forget the good food, the pretty decorations, and the happy faces of the children!