Wrestling with Orpheus or Johny's Not a Good Capitalist

Absolutely devoured Denise Levertov's Selected Poems when I should have been finishing off the Lukacs book I borrowed from a friend. Subject & art. Hard to get intent on study subjects sometimes when the art is keeping you from sleeping. Sure, I lose sleep thinking about how it went down with Amy, or from nightmares about Rachael, or the war, or the commodity-driven consumer culture but the art is my lifeblood. The dream of love is a selfish, personal dream in a way. Yes, I want to make someone happy & be happy, have children & give hope to better future for mankind via that pathway. Still, an element of selfishness is there. The happiness being for the person I come to love most & myself. Poetry I create in the spirit of gift economy that my sweat & blood & tears in finding the right melody with the right message might foster an environment where right action flowers. The giving to all mankind that subtly gives back in stead of love's obvious strokes painted over every fibre of how I look at the day's birds is a startling remove. Hard work. Orpheus runs away, leaps over brooks & rivers. Foolish in hope, determined in the need for positive change, I charge after fashioning my footsteps into a tribal dance of ceremony & respect.

Art Hop was a blast. Five friends & myself had the mainstage in the dead of the afternoon on Saturday. Aaron & Shawn had a 4' x 16' canvas, numerous objects painted white (including TIPOT's teapot), & their own white clothing to attack with paint. Adam, the mad professor, was the turntablist spinning electro-psychedelic hip hop. Jeremy, Rachelle, & myself sang, prayed, & spoke words of poetry over the mad beats as paint flew, children played in the audience, & a stunned crowd stood around wondering what to focus on. Abztract Synergy looks like it could have a revival soon. There were enough confluences everyone involved was stoked.

Went to the doctor today. How's that for a flipside? Got some interesting 'growths' burned off my body with liquid nitrogen. Cool burn. A nice little styrofoam cup & a q-tip with foggy smoke lilting over the rim. All kinds of questions aroaming around my head since the doctor hadn't elucidated on the possible effects of the 'virus'. Damn. At least at the end he said, "It should just go away now. No problems. If any more crop up after two or three weeks we'll burn those off & you should be good to go." He did seem like a hero after that. Hell, he was a hero. Western medicine isn't all bad but man they should get a decorator for that damn reception room. To think they framed those pieces. Liability issues make for tight tongues. Take some responsibility on for Chrissake. Not letting people know what's going on breaks the first rule of medicine: do no harm. Course we all know suffering is inevitable & breeds health, provides the contrast for health, that grief paints the backdrop for peace to arise in response to the human condition.

Feel better after Amy & I talked last night. My catalogue memory retained each sentence of parting & post-parting criticism, many of which seemed far too broad & thereby hurtful. To hear the tone of her voice & go over a few things was a relief. The thunderstrike of love has hit me only a few times in this life, I'm thankful for every scar of light. She's right, I am trapped by my lesser habits which keep me from being who I'd like to be. This shy hermit thing is not just a response to my unwillingness to trust all the way but a means to filter away unwanted interruptions that sap up time. Community is a constant theme & yet where do I leave my community? Past arm's length. & vermillion hell, I believe in hugging.

Hate money. My job is a leach on my soul. Sure, I make people comfortable whether they're sweet & ignorant or snobby know-it-alls but I sell bottles that contain pesticide-grown grapes from unsustainable agricultural practices by companies that use cutthroat marketing techniques in a trillion-some dollar industry all for a corporate company that has me working for under $10 an hour with a boss who is more drill-sergeant than family facilitator (besides scrutinizing with that frustrated, disapproving face we know she watches the cameras). At least I make so little that my gross contribution to the war-machine is not grosser.

Matt hasn't called me back. Did I offend? Guess, I'll have to keep at it till he relents. All in the name of love & kinship.

Jeremy was a great surprise. A talented & sincere human being (a rare treat that I call a homosapien a human being these days). The world-changers are out there. I'm proud to have him as a friend. Hope he moves down here.

The typing for The Underneath is done. So is Subnotes for the Golden Age. Just have to organize the typed files into manuscript form. Too bad the laptop ate the metal panel off the bottom of my disk. No worry, I'm stubborn. I now have 192 pages of material ready to print. After some actual send-offs of poetry I'm gonna attack the minor projects & make them into zines. The afore-mentioned two & Small Talk About the Weather are going to be chapbooks with cardstock covers, the works. At least a couple of venues have offered me featured readings once I get off my ass & publish. Who knew years of resilience would pay off till I at least have something like a voice to show for my years of hearty effort? Youth is still on my side, determination & spirit may still make something useful of words that come through me yet.

On the romance front... no substantial action. Three intelligent, sweet, pretty women have taken a liking to me lately & one more really piqued my interest. Of course I said nary a word to her. All three of the aforementioned are not my type & I am never so lonely to damage someone unnecessarily by wasting their time. One might become a good friend. That'd be nice. I need some more female friends in this town. Rachelle is cool & all but she's married & quite busy. I need a girlish, down-to-earth type to joke around with. So yeah, no going on the romance bent. Besides, it still smarts too tender to know that Amy & I didn't work.

Heraclitus writes, "Things keep their secrets." I'd add, after careful communion things divulge some of their secrets but the enigma at the core of life remains elusive. Einstein said that his religion was that part of existence which defied explanation, the part which through his reverence he tried to elucidate. Our imaginations take us far, too bad they don't reach so far for us to extend a hand to the millions who suffer unnecessary deprivations.

Still working hard to overthrow the capitalist world state,

Jason