Sunday, October 23, 2005
good morning it's Sunday morning are you watching a reduced Hurricane Wilma accelerate toward storm-weary Florida, threatening residents with 105-mph winds, tornadoes and a surge of seawater that could flood the Keys and the state's southwest coast? do you think life happened on earth by design some say that's how we got here it may be a lot of unverified nonsense watching Tab Hunter this morning on a morning show he was one of the biggest pop-movie stars years ago now he's a writer he wrote his autobiography because he heard somebody from a tabloid was finally going to expose him so he said: "I'd rather have you hear it from the horse's mouth than the horse's ass" a heart-throb knocking 'em dead in the 50s he's now in his seventies young love wasn't the half of it and hidden gay too now all the talk about baseball how 'bout those sox and the who are they playing does anyone watch baseball anymore it's like living in the 1950s take a revealing look at camouflage standing by in Naples Florida it might become a category three maybe not the streets of Cancun devastated and the looters want to eat they were shot as water came in people were sleeping on the floor in the water 17 hours in the dark soaking wet now a weaker storm debating whether to move but they're kinda waiting whether to leave they're closely watching Wilma they're expecting it to intensify significantly so many tropical storms they've used up all the names more than half of the Nigerians in the plane crash lived or died I'm not sure the week ahead will be chilly with nice autumn weather make time for dinner with KFC we can't stop asking where did we come from why are we here why did the world come to be peer into the inner cell they couldn't possibly evolve by chance the DNA cytoplasm mitochondrila-crista ribosome peroxisome vacuole sperm cells in semen sometimes the consciousness has no record of the initial impulse the deep memory of manifestation sweat forming on the hand video cradles what it sees more efficiently in other realms of existence smaller smaller tinier tinier minute minute we think there's a creator that's a christian creator or creature from the black lagoon greatest headlines of the century today of course and 79,000 people are now dead in the Pakistan quake and all the news reports two people dead in Cancun go figure I don't want to end up like my parents you're too young for this and too old for that and overwhelmed yelling tougher taking care of myself nowadays less than perfect I feel like hiding in something somewhere I don't know why my job as a friend makes me forget the weight of the world and take the matter into my own hands feeling the pain becoming zoned out numb not really interested in things and turning to Adam for advice feeling self-medicated just being around him no it's not a waste of time it's never a waste of time and he doesn't lead to self-destruction for that matter either; carrying about a lot of pain turned inside out hurting myself using food I'm close to him that's all he's like the excitement before the calm after a storm.
Adam's face a film-maker's dream of a dream of making films passes before my gaze like a young Tab Hunter an accident forced him to give up dancing but the things one can express with the hand, with the head, with the eyes, with the shoulders, with the physique of Vishnu Apollo sweet Jesus how many useless and encumbering words then disappear! What economy! a rigorous quest, a burnished soft face and immersion in paying attention to others' problem in spite of his resolve to become successful as an actor he just wants to go to work sometimes playing drums a master of precision to be a precision instrument himself precise movement of the interior to the exterior and looking honestly into your face saying it's all about you see for yourself you're the ultimatethrillingnumber1 fortunate with adulation a diamond blue voice and passionate for the appropriate his face peering down from an LA billboard Adam Cadmon so vast and huge each of his hairs a stream of light with an underlying metaphysical message a great guy normally quiet untouchable no bother I know I know drawing goofy hearts and love notes in his journal
you can talk to him you can talk with him you can talk about him you can talk talk taking talk taking words to new levels newer depths talking with him is never about him but about what he thinks about you thinking about southamerican poets italian design or george clooney on the early show singing in the rain laid back singing his praises with a gift for song music and years of expensive education an expert on Shakespeare playing jazz on a Yamaha piano dipping into hip-hop he doesn't tip toe he stomps twenty something a four star young man who makes a difference star of source ideas a perfect roommate he said what are you thinking about and when I told him he listened he makes you feel like a piece of music he plays happily ever after responsbile for his own health makes you want to sing your life your music
it's all now you see him now you don't disappears for days watches movies: Killer Shrews, Hercules Unchained, Swamp Diamonds, City Limits, Radar Secret Service stares out at the gray low fog city streets dreams of designing treehouses dressing in camouflage to hide in plain site to deceive by design to hide by standing out what does he want: to break you down you put you into a box by taking you out of a cage make you a common object tape your thoughts with his listening capacity his talent for hearing he's not the first to disguise the sun with light
a secret passage a shy boy: people with lapis lazuli eyes believe what they want to believe I never talked about it everything is quiet would you like to take Lola someplace tonight amazingly he can keep a secret possessing the presence of a spanish toreador sword poised before the bull lying in wait I'm off Adam now and not better for it you have to keep in mind the question: how do people learn the meaning of Adam especially in Technicolor iridescent gleaming and behaved: I can imagine Adam telling me that I've finally succeeded in really being able to think: to saturate words with hyacinth robin's egg & Siva lingam blue just before the film runs out.
I try never to forget those patterns we call poems; that every man is the measure of things; when the mind is in question everything is in question; trusted feelings compel me to act; that you are broad-minded and considerate like a spring breeze; the process of making poetry is the first Adam; you came from out of the blue and then returned when then it came to me: I am able to hear your voice saying it is the function of the brain to be secure; there's never been anything like it and it seems to me that without opposition there is no growth. Does it matter, why? It is very difficult to give one's attention to something. Is it not? I won't forget you. There is no how.
-- Jeff Wietor
All right. I may have lied to you and about you, and made a
few pronouncements a bit too sweeping, perhaps, and
possibly forgotten to tag the bases here or there,
And damned your extravagance, and maligned your tastes,
and libeled your relatives, and slandered a few of your friends,
Nevertheless, come back.
Come home. I will agree to forget the statements that you
issued so copiously to the neighbors and the press,
And you will forget that figment of your imagination, the
blonde from Detroit;
I will agree that your lady friend who lives above us is not
crazy, bats, nutty as they come, but on the contrary
And you will concede that poor old Steinberg is neither a
drunk, nor a swindler, but simply a guy, on the eccentric
side, trying to get along.
(Are you listening, you bitch, and have you got this straight?)
Because I forgive you, yes, for everything.
I forgive you for being beautiful and generous and wise,
I forgive you, to put it simply, for being alive, and pardon
you, in short, for being you.
Because tonight you are in my hair and eyes,
And every street light that our taxi passes shows me you again,
And because tonight all other nights are black, all other hours
are cold and far away, and now, this minute, the stars
are very near and bright.
Come back. We will have a celebration to end all celebrations.
We will invite the undertaker who lives beneath us, and a
couple of boys from the office, and some other friends.
And Steinberg, who is off the wagon, and that
insane woman who lives upstairs, and a few reporters, if
anything should break.
-- Kenneth Fearing
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