I have a time machine in my kitchen

It's true. It's on right now, and the portals of time have opened wide. Time it was and what a time it was, it was, a time of innocence. A time of confidences. I am, right now, sitting in a van stuffed full of my fellow Blackford High Schoolers, and we are heading North to Canada to backpack for a week. The floor of the van is really warm, and Kim has just informed me that the only reason Tom and I love the song The Boxer is because it has the word "whores" in it.

And I blink my eyes, the machine does its thing and...

I am skipping down Fifth Ave. in NYC, and I am in love, and I am singing into my cell phone, and I don't care who hears me, and all is well.

And I go upstairs a few minutes ago which is also right now, because time has liquefied this morning, and I am watching some movie with Drew Barrymore and I am also in the airport in Fairbanks, Alaska meeting my father for the first time in my grown up life, and I am heading back to the airport three weeks later, and also, at the very same time, I am thirteen years old and it's the middle of the night, and some man I don't know is talking to me and I can't make out what he's saying, but my older brother is telling me it's my father.

My dog has just died and I am learning to drive and I am in college and I just got published and I just lost my mother and I am in the shopping mall and in trouble because my sister told me to take the coins out of the fountain and I did it and now mom is going to have to get me and on it goes...

Sometimes, like Billy Pilgrim, I think we all become unhinged in time- we go to what I used to think of as the Everytime- a place where all moments, past present and future, roll together in a torrent of emotion and old songs and movie quotes and photos, and while it is tempestuous and overwhelming there is a sort of order to it all- and just like any strong current, the only way to get through it is to work with the flow.

Hello darkness, my old friend. And Brian and Tom and Vinnie and Dan and Tim and Jay and Taft- hello old mentor wise man genius.

The halls of my memory are so crowded.

And it's now today and it's now yesterday and it's now forever.

I am I, and I am singing Man of La Mancha with Myles in the back station at Bryant Park, and I am holding my nephew up to the sky on the day he is born, and I am getting married in the town square in Prague, and I am going with the flow.

And it's yesterday now forever.

Again.

The Soul Is Like a Shark

There's a great scene in Annie Hall where Woody Allen likens a relationship to a shark- if it doesn't keep moving, it dies. I think the same is true of our souls. We must keep moving, growing, trying new things- or we slump over and die, and join the living dead. Fortunately, this zombie-fication is not permanent, and there are many quasi- voo doo rituals that can restore us. A trip to India, planting flowers, learning a new language. The list is infinite and groovy and unique to each of us.

I ponder all this because of my buddy Jack, who is painting again, after many years. Hooray. He's even presenting some of his art to the public. Double Hooray. It's been something like fifteen years since he last delved into the waters, and I am vicariously thrilled.

Jack was my room mate many moons ago in the magic land of Salinas. Salinas? Si, Salinas. We lived the Bohemian life with our fellow room mate Greg- and we were always short on money but never short on inspiration. We would have parties- well, we kind approached life as a continual party. At any given time, you could find someone writing a poem, painting, making up an interpretive dance to Gershwin or Jane's Addiction.

On top of that, we were working on a three part, nine hour adaptation of Steinbeck's East of Eden at the Western Stage, which was one of the most amazing theatrical experiences of my life, so far. They were salad days in the salad bowl of the world, and we were all Caesars and Cleopatras. To put it simply, life was groovy.

So, life went on, we went on, and presto change-o, fifteen years go by and we're elsewhere, doing other things. And that's cool- but at the same time, it's become much easier to forget that life is for the living, that one must howl at the moon now and then, that the chimes of midnight demand to be heard. Somehow, we spend more time worrying and less time celebrating. And that's no good.

So Jack, who like all of us has had his share of ups and downs, of remembering and forgetting, has found his way back to creating something that expresses the mystery of existence.

And that gives me hope. It inspires me. It reminds me that we are all of us artists, that we all must keep our souls on the move, or close our eyes and stumble along towards oblivion.

Click on this: Jack : to see more on the show Jack is showing his stuff at.

And here is a poem I wrote in Bohemia:

EDEN (EAST)

Jim dropped the ball

on Greg

but then again

We all gathered in the dark

between the lights

My God

it was all so

huge

Every one of us

were in the Land of Nod

And in that filthy dirt

we reached

peace

communicated

For at least 9 hours

or maybe one act

Hard Times became

more

than just a song

and then

in the final approach

to what was death

We watched them all

stand

and cheer

as we

slowly

Walked into the grave

of a moment

that will never

never

come again

March Fourth, the only day that's also a sentence

So. What's been happening since last I posted? There is this weird guilt thing that goes with having a blog- it goes something like this. "My goodness, I haven't posted in a while. I should do that. I feel bad." This is followed by many thoughts on what to blog about. "I know, I'll give them my take on healthcare!". The blog gets plotted out in my mind. Oh, the wit! The brilliance of it all. Then, somehow, an hour has passed and I have to go tend to other things like paying bills and walking the dog, and teaching my classes. A day or week goes by, and no blog. Then I think, "My goodness, I still haven't posted!", and the vicious cycle continues.

Well, Hell with that. I write when I write, and if there are months in between, so be it.

So, a quick update on all things me- and yes, I do think the world revolves around me, just like you think the world revolves around you. We are all our own little universes, aren't we?

There are two readings happening on either side of the country. On Sunday, the Seattle Playwrights Collective is doing a reading of "Sunny" as part of their First Look series. This play was originally called "Fenway: Last of the Bohemians", and is co-written with my wife, Lisa Holub. It's loosely based on Uncle Vanya by Anton Chekov. It is set on a faded hippie commune in the mid-1980's- you know, back when conservatives were running around talking about how liberals were ruining the country with all their social and environmental programs. Such a different time. Anyway, if you are in the Seattle area, you should check it out.

The other reading is a benefit performance of Burning the Old Man being put on by the Boomerang Theatre Company as part of it's Legacy Reading Series. So far, this play has been the most successful, and it got it's start with the Boomerangs, so please come out and support a great theatre group. There are lots of things going on with that show- lots of possible productions and such- so please, after reading this, face west, turns around three times, spit, curse, and think good thoughts. And if you are a producer looking for that next big thing, send me an email, and we'll talk.

So that's some of what's going on, theatre wise. As for politics, I still think the far right is out of it's mind. Seriously. The Tea Party people, and followers of Rush and Glenn- I think they are collectively insane. Something about the whole things makes me think of the Brown shirts and the SS in Nazi Germany. See, at first- and I could be remembering my history all wrong- the Nazi's were this group of unhappy, conservative nationalists who blamed the commies and lefties for their ills. Some said they were racist morons. As they grew in power, they were mostly Brown Shirts, or SA. These were the equivalent of moderate conservatives, and I bet some of them said "Well, I don't know about the whole Jew things, but I do think we need to take our country back." After awhile, a more hardline group formed. The SS. These were the super far right crazies, and they eventually took out the leadership of the SA. And by took out I mean killed. No doubt it's my overactive imagination.

Okay- now I have to walk the dog. So I might write more tomorrow, or in a month, or a year. In the mean time, I wish you all well.

We All Should Be as Happy as Kings

And the leaves that are green turn to brown. Yes, they do- but on the way, they turn red and orange and yellow and all sorts of mystical Nameless (and thus more mysterious and powerful) colors.

It's a cold, drizzly sort of morning here in Colorado- one of those sloppy mixes of snow and rain that, upon first view from the bedroom window, made me think, "oh, don't tell me I have to go out in that". You know what I'm talking about- temperatures above freezing, but just a smidge, ground covered with wet leaves that will stick to your shoes and not come off until you're standing on the carpet you just vacuumed yesterday. The kind of day where a full winter coat is too much and the sweater you're wearing isn't quite enough to keep you from shivering.

And for a good twenty minutes I let myself succumb to the joys of boo-hoo-ing about it.

But I just can't do that for too long. I don't know why, exactly, but the world always seems to me to be this really beautiful place, full of color and sensation and magic. I look up and down my street and see Fall in all it's glory- crisp and real and alive. I go inside and have a cup of coffee and contemplate what to listen to on the stereo while I do my morning's writing. I go with Copeland's music for Our Town. Copeland rocks.

How could I complain about anything, really? Yes, I could use more money, warmer clothes, cleaner shoes- but holy shit am I lucky. Lucky to have been born where I was born, lucky to be in fairly good health, lucky to have married someone I love very much, lucky to have the friends I have. I mean, I must have somehow gotten that bowl of Lucky Charms that actually gives you good luck. Thanks, Leprechaun dude!

There's this really great DVD called 1Giant Leap, which was basically this project these two guys put together, wherein they wrote a bunch of songs about universal themes- love, death, time, sex, God- and then went all over the world recording interviews with different people from all walks of life talking about those themes. They also layed trackes with musicians from all over- so one song might have percussionists from Thailand playing, along with vocalists from South Africa- really groovy, world music kind of stuff that if you listen to on our ipod in the right frame of mind can make you feel like Mickey Mouse in Fantasia after he puts on the Sorcerers hat- powerful and overwhelmed. Anyway- in the segment on time, one of the many people they talked to was Dennis Hopper- and he goes on this tear about how we are all miracles, when you think about it. Here we are on this little planet, shooting through space at incredible speed as we orbit the sun- and somehow, there's life, and music, and people. It's a miracle. We're all miracles.

I feel like that today. Like a miracle.

Of course, my life is pretty good right now, so it's easy to feel like that. I mean, I have a play running in Prague that keeps selling out; I just found out my one act Hela and Troy is going to be published by Playscripts, inc.; I teach children theatre for a living. I don't want to say that life can't be hard- I know that there are days and weeks and months and years that suck ass. There is intolerance, and misery, and sorrow all over, non-stop. There are children starving right now- millions of them- and at the same time, Rush Limbaugh sits on his fat ass and gets paid enormous amounts of money for spouting hate and the soft bigotry of being an asshole.
But still, in spite of everything- I find this world beautiful.

Robert Louis Stevenson wrote, 'The world is so full of a number of things, That we all should be as happy as kings.' He had it pretty good, too- but I think he was right.

I guess the thing to do is revel in this world, and try and help as many people as we can.
And not complain about something as mundane as a change in the weather.

Shake It Up

Seriously. Shake it up. Not to honor the old song by The Cars, though there's nothing wrong with that notion, but to get the proverbial juices flowing. Get out there and do something different for a moment, an hour, a day. Twist the scenery of your daily pageant and taste something new. Order a different drink at the bar, add cream to your black coffee or salt to your grapefruit.

That's right, salt your damn grapefruit. This has become a blog of daily confirmations, exhortations, and exhilaration. Why not? We let the world say the same old thing, day in and day out, every freaking day- and I have had enough.

More things that we all should do:

Buy the album Vinyl by D'Haene- up and coming band, will rock your soul.
Go to Prague and see my show, Cesta Horiciho Muze- because Prague rocks, and so does my show.
Talk to a total stranger. That's right- even if they have candy.

This isn't a new idea, I know- but it's one of those things we manage to learn and forget over and over, ad infinitum.

Example: this past week, my good friend Jack- resident genius of Jersey City's Art House Productions- came to visit. One of the many great things about company is that it forces us to change our routine, to vary the daily grind- you know, to shake things up.

So shake we did, along with some rattling and rolling, and good times were had by all. Amoung the many excellent things I/we experienced this past week was some great art at the Denver Art Museum. An entire room painted red, with grey foxes running wild. A strangely serene painting of a little girl that supposedly haunts the sixth floor of the North Building- at least that's what the security guards tell me. And this installation by Bjorn Melhus that was friggin' amazing. He basically took a bunch of sound bytes, mostly from Star Trek, and created this Beckett like series of vignettes, with three characters standing on a desolate planet pondering life, love, and our eventual deaths. Very funny, unique, and ultimately moving. And, we got to watch the whole thing while sitting on bean bag chairs.

It was one of those little moments in life that I knew, as it was happening, was for some unknown reason, important to my thread of being. I know that, years from now, I'll think of that artwork and smile, perhaps even be inspired in something I am working on, to new levels of brilliance.

All because of a slight variation in schedule.

Shake it up, baby, with all you've got.

And then see where the paint spatters have landed.

Surf's Up

Okay- I think that I, along with many others, have sort of drifted along through this summer of our discontent; of bizarre town hall meetings packed with loud, rude whacko's getting all riled up about socialism and healthcare; of all sorts of things that fill the web pages and tv sets and then float off into the ether. I've been kind of drifting since the election, as far as politics go. I think we all- or a vast majority of us- just thought "well, we elected the good guys, now we can get on with our lives and all shall be well". It's like we all turned into Uatu, the Watcher. Uatu was this bald dude who lived on the Moon and watched the world spin along and do it's thing- but never got involved. He also would narrate the "What If?" comic book- with storylines like "What If Spiderman joined the Fantastic Four?", or "What if Captain America was the President of the United States"- kind of cool conjecture on reality and the butterfly effect and all that.
And that's me of late- a couch potato on the moon watching the world spin, speculating on questions like, "What if we had universal health care? What if I was a commie and didn't know it? What if all those phoney looking angry folks at the town hall meetings really were bunch of fakes, like those dudes in Florida who stormed the recount when Bush stole the election?"

Well, the time has come to shake off that alter-ego, and get busy.

I don't know why, exactly, but of late I am filled with this need to do something more than just sit on my ass. Maybe it's because I watched Obama's speech to school children yesterday- maybe it's a reaction to the insanity of all those on the right who scream so loudly about the End of Days coming in the form of socialized medicine- I don't know. All I know is that break time is over, and it's time for all of us to do more than just watch. It's time for us to re-engage on the level we did during the election- or even more. Time for us to call our senators and representatives and governors and friends and strangers- to stand up and be counted.

To become Norrin Radd, The Silver Surfer.

That's right. I said it. Time for us to wield the power cosmic and go up against impossibly huge foes like Galactus, devourer of worlds, Satan (i.e. the G.O.P.), and the Insurance Industry.

The Silver Surfer sacrificed everything he had to save his world- he gave up his home, his family, the love of his life-he even gave up his hair- all of it, and this was before it became cool for dudes to shave their heads.

Yes, at times it might be lonely, gliding through the galaxy on our cosmic surfboard- but it's the right thing to do.

I called both my senators the other day, and when I did, I felt the power cosmic coursing through my body. It was excellent- and so freakin' easy. I mean, what excuse do any of us have for not contacting our elected officials in this age of the internets?

So come on, my fellow heroes- time to gear up and kick some ass.

I challenge you all to watch the President's speech tonight, and then talk to at least five people about it afterwards- five people whom you haven't spoken to in at least one month.

Surf's up.

Right wing, you suck

Okay- so I've kind of taken it easy on the old blog since the election- seemed liked things were good, we got a bunch of people in office, including the big one on Pennsylvania Ave.- what could possibly go wrong?

Ah, yes. I forgot. As Stephen King once wrote, there are a lot of assholes out there, and they travel in packs.

Let me put it another way:

The Right Wing sucks donkeys.

Seriously. The entire right wing sucks donkey dongs.

I don't know why this upsets me- it's been this way pretty much my entire life. But still, I get angry.

To speak to one facet of my dismay, let's talk about health care, or the lack thereof for most Americans. It's absurd. We have the most expensive health care system in the world, but not the most affective or available. Aren't we supposed to be The USA, the country that people are proud to be from? So, Obama et al try to get something going, get something passed that will help the average citizen- and the right wing goes whacko- I mean like Michael Jackson Whacko Jacko. There is a whole set out there trying to convince our seniors that the plan Obama is pushing will basically encourage euthanasia of the elderly. Isn't that nice? The politics of fear is alive and well and lives in the heart of all those cheating, lying, creepy old white men who are the GOP.

But then, this is not news, is it? We all know that the GOP, and to a lesser extent some in the Democratice party, suck at the teat of the great Corporate Cow who rules over us all, the Great Bovine of the Military Industrial Complex.

What to do?

I think, first off- I'm calling my senators and congress person and telling them to get with the program or I will do as much as I can to make sure they don't keep their office.
Next, I am going to pray to every God I can think of to either curse those bastards, or make the scales fall from their eyes.

Then I'm going to listen to some really good music- maybe Arcade Fire or the Shins or the D'Haene or Robbie Gil.

And then I'll watch the Daily Show and the Colbert Report to keep my sense of humor.

And God bless Conan for having Shatner do Palin. Whoopee.