30 junio 2008: The Day the Laughter Died

He stood before the mass, his church kinfolk,
Where he was nurtured since he grew a tooth,
The pews less filled, the church a cob-webbed booth.
"I have to share this now." And so he spoke.
His testimony flowed as it had done
So often at the congregation's ledge.
His words selected sweet with marbled edge,
The point he made, a fancy on the run.
But sober rang, an unexpected peace.
The laughter he had earned before, not there.
A silence, contemplation, eyes aware
Did meet his smile and turn it to a crease.
They wanted wisdom, now that he was old.
They wanted something sure and nothing bold.

30 junio 2008: Matthew 19, Mark 10, Luke 18

The Comfortable Young Man

16Now a man came up to Jesus and asked, "Teacher, what good thing must I do to get eternal life?"

17"Why do you ask me about what is good?" Jesus replied. "There is only One who is good. If you want to enter life, obey the commandments."

18"Which ones?" the man inquired.

Jesus replied, " 'Do not murder, do not commit adultery, do not steal, do not give false testimony, 19honor your father and mother,' and 'love your neighbor as yourself.'"

20"All these I have kept," the young man said. "What do I still lack?"

21Jesus answered, "If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me."

22When the young man heard this, he went away sad, because he was comfortable.

The Comfortable Young Man

17As Jesus started on his way, a man ran up to him and fell on his knees before him. "Good teacher," he asked, "what must I do to inherit eternal life?"

18"Why do you call me good?" Jesus answered. "No one is good—except God alone. 19You know the commandments: 'Do not murder, do not commit adultery, do not steal, do not give false testimony, do not defraud, honor your father and mother.'"

20"Teacher," he declared, "all these I have kept since I was a boy."

21Jesus looked at him and loved him. "One thing you lack," he said. "Go, sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me."

22At this the man's face fell. He went away sad, because he was comfortable.

The Comfortable Ruler

18A certain ruler asked him, "Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?"

19"Why do you call me good?" Jesus answered. "No one is good—except God alone. 20You know the commandments: 'Do not commit adultery, do not murder, do not steal, do not give false testimony, honor your father and mother.'"

21"All these I have kept since I was a boy," he said.

22When Jesus heard this, he said to him, "You still lack one thing. Sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me."

23When he heard this, he became very sad, because he was comfortable.

29 junio 2008: Revenge Against The Bourgeoisie

There, I think I improved this poem.

Yes, the golf and the empathy references are directed at the sons of Ottos. I watched Michael Haneke's Funny Games yesterday (the English-language remake with Naomi Watts in her scanties). Yes, it is a blistering film of torture of the gated-community folks, who are entirely sympathetic and with whom the audience is supposed to sympathize. No, none of you could sit through this movie. In Europe, they call this art. In America, they probably call it terrorism. The poem is filtered through my viewing of Funny Games. I have all of Michael Haneke's films. No, I am not on the list. I'm like the OTHER characters in Funny Games, those who don't belong but who intrude in violent ways.


Oh, the years I spent
Making other people jealous

Now they travel to Kuwait
Trying to get even

I was naive
Broke

I appreciated, my only talent
They accumulated

Now, they don't know
What to name their stuff

Or what it tastes like
Anymore

Sighs
All around

Brain-dinged
On the golf course

Empathy leaks
Staunched by cash

They say,
"I want to help"

But that's the thing
They can't buy

They can't help
Because

They're
The problem

26 junio 2008: Outside Turkey Run

The Tattoo

the thing is

as the boys have all converged

the long promised

group tattoo

of mayan totems

the line of heirs

now-occurs-now

we are identically

inked

and we watch the old videos

of family

in the yucatan

the mayan villages

nothing has ever changed

since the tribe stopped time

The Presentation of Chan-Bahlum as Heir

Palenque lineage Jaguar Lord
Mah Kina Chan-Bahlum
Divine Palenque Ahua

He Was Born

My old man goes Obama

Freely, by Devendra Banhart

20 junio 2008: Menopoker

jd was disappointed to have lost a game. in fact, for the first time, he brought a truly decent booby prize (a chamois skin pillow with embroidered wolf) that he had to eat himself! or he would have if geode didn't beg him for it, to help save his wounded kidney. pgeode spoke of his new access to health care.

pg was largely the reason jd lost, due to one marathon nail-biter hand of night baseball. jd turned over four of a kind with his first four cards and the pot rose dramatically as pg tried to beat it, which he did, with four aces, using a wild three as his last-turned card, so he had to match the already formidable pot ($3 or so) to watch with excruciating fear as jd completed turning over his remaining five cards.

'do it quick,' pg said. 'get it over with.'

he need not have worried.

honey aka miss poochie the dog was riled up, due to lee's absence. he tried to play with the tennis ball and the squeaky football toys at the same time, plopping the football in monkhead's lap more than once. also, dog drooled repeatedly on robie's cards, arm, and leg.

robespierre brought a year's supply of bag 'o pretzels. the root beer had frosted glasses.

robespierre was on a tear, winning left and right. he turned over four or five kings at the last minute to steal a nice pot from pgeo, who continued to start slow in the evening and regain momentum, his regular play pattern. the final winners were tied, admiral and robespierre.

monkhead challenged a potential tie in pau gong, when both he and pg turned up hands of a full house in the five-card part of the play. (the admiral had already claimed the two hand win, to split the pot). since pg had jacks in his full house, and monkhead had only nines, pg took his half of the pot. after the chips were divided and safely nestled in the players' stashes, the rulebook was consulted. indeed, the person with the higher card in the three-section of the full house, wins. half-hearted (and probably unfair) restitution was attempted as pg disdainfully tossed three blue chips toward monkhead.

the admiral did a magic trick and reasonably well.

for one hand, pg insisted on playing with his own deck of cards, robespierre protested but played anyway, everybody knew the game was rigged and yet they bet anyway!, believing something must have gone awry with the deal since they were sure they would win, because they are suckers, because as anyone might have known, pg won. but he gave them back their chips.

nobody said i'm sorry.

the anarchy round was played without betting, but if bets had been placed, it's likely that the monkhead would have won, with a natural apocalyptic something or other, with the admiral coming in a close second, by singing a song by donovan and getting others to sing along with him.

because scooter missed this game in order to go to a farm bureau meeting (so he says), he will be required to sing a song by donovan at the next game, which will be held NOT on june 26 because pg has too much on his plate, and the following week after that is the 3rd of july, but even so, a game will be held. bring your flags. and matches.

20 junio 2008: Cognitive Dissonances

(Patti LuPone singing)
Everything's Comin' Up Roses
: the Definition of
Cognitive Dissonance

Gay Pride Started
As Cognitive Dissonance
And Ended
In California
In Triumph

Parenting is a Process
Of Cognitive Dissonance
As is Marriage in General

Wealth
I Keep Forgetting
Biggest
CD Event Horizon
Of All

The Pomegranate Billionaire Said
It's Not Home But It's Much

The Talking Head Said
This is Not My Beautiful House
Oh, my God
What Have I Done?

18 junio 2008: Copyright vs. Dying

coldplay album came out today
ironically named viva la vida or death and all his friends

up at 5
put it up for sale online at 9
sold it at 10
bought it at best buy at 11
mailed it media mail by noon

made 20 cents on the deal

you gotta scrape by
that's how it works
any means necessary
cause in the end
like krugman said
we're all the dead

see below

18 junio 2008: What Dying is Like

The doctor was matter of fact.
Cancer, he said. Adding quickly,
Worst case scenario, of course.

I didn't flinch. Didn't feel anything.
Relief, maybe.
There would be no
Money for treatment
And no insurance
So

I was hoping
Not to get sick
Until I hit 65
When the government decides
It is OK

That was not to be
Suddenly, things are easier

i don't have that article to write
i don't have to go to the meeting
i can stay in the hammock
no way i'm sharing this during church

the kids are coming this weekend
what to tell them
nothing, i guess

the flowers she keeps telling me to
pay attention to
look good today
better than i noticed before

should i really take all these vitamin pills
should i really drink so much water

all i know is
this better be terminal
i'm not lounging around
accruing hospital bills

i outlived tim russert
no matter when it happens

memento mori interrobang

hard to forget
at the moment

as long as they don't send me bills
don't let them send any bills

this is mine
already

Photos for Father's Day

1962, Puerto Rico, Gerald Nauman

Gerald, if you are out there, write me.

On the beach at Cannes with Fred Marx

I am the one wearing clothes.

This is the year Fred Marx, before he made "Hoop Dreams," accompanied me to the festival. He swore he'd never come back. That was the most common reaction people have.

Here's Fred, obviously not interested in the goings on at the Palais.

11 junio 2008: miles

11 junio 2008: miles and morgan

11 junio 2008: morgan and miles

10 junio 2008: the flooding

adolescent deer flees zig-zag
isolated in unfamiliar corn fields
landscape warped by the rushing
box turtle halved by crushing
his intricate shell yin to red meat yang
gravel road with toad
garden snake climbs daylily stalks
suspends himself in the air
a hanging bridge
staring, detached, reactive, fearless
high off
the unreliable surface of the earth

9 junio 2008: identity, part two

there is no comfort
outside the freak

there is no rest
apart from the anonymous

there is no contact
except in foreign soil

this is who i am
always

(

upon reflection
maybe even a breakthrough
i see
i could not accept
belonging

all those years
forbidden to dance

dancing with the forbidden
all those years

no fit

out of all
loops of the norm

no home
not to be able

to return to

i need a land
where my tongue
is strange

daily to be recognized
as the alien

)

9 junio 2008: identity

folks someone stole my name
and used it today in the times op-ed page
greg melville

in the end
we are all the grateful dead
krugman wrote last week

in the letters:
in the future
only the rich can write

as usual
whoever i am
was ahead of the game

it is all
for free

i can't even assume
a name

8 junio 2008: Songs

Sent with my voice via Jott:

The Mothers of Invention: Absolutely Free
The Rolling Stones: I'm Free to Do What I Want Any Old Time
The Young Rascals: People Got to Be Free
The Who: I'm Free
Patti Smith: Free Money
Marlo Thomas: Free to Be You and Me

7 junio 2008: Flashbacks

i went mad
after vietnam
war casualty
never left home

at the fillmore
i was wearing
my purple robe

the acidheads
stared and genuflected
called me jesus

everything is the same

going mad
from iraq
swimming in the lies

at the grocery store tonight
buying ramen to support
my unemployed son

a black woman
said i was jesus

she was young
churchgoer obviously

a subtle evangelism

good news

but look what happened to him

7 junio 2008: Jealous

my cousin is visiting
madagascar
this year

last year it was italy

i've been to italy
a lot
so that's ok

but now i'm jealous
a lot

no use pretending
any different

i never go anywhere

did you think this was a poem
well it's not
i'm just angry or maybe numb, whatever

because the garage is collapsing
because i'm old
because i have no satisfying work
because i never get a vacation
because i feel like a slave
because i am disrespected
because there is no work in this town for me
because i am taken for granted
because i have no sex life
because i can't afford the needs of my grown children
because i feel responsible for my children and am unable to nurture them to independence
because the house is in disrepair
because the water heater flooded
because i have too many possessions, mostly worthless
because i can't write
because nothing satisfies me, except poker
because i am out of shape
because i can't afford a colonoscopy
because i can't afford therapy
because i don't believe in therapy
because i lost my work
way back when
and never got back on my feet
because there is no way I can register a complaint
because if i express satisfaction, people think it is vanity
because too many people believe in superstitions
because i have no escape
because religion has failed for me
because i am tired of being enlightened, seeking enlightenment, or imagining that there is enlightenment

and there's nothing i can do about it

without leaving

and my stupid religious upbringing
won't let me leave
my wife
(who wouldn't care)

and she knows it

and uses me

like a mop

like everybody

and no

i'm not happy about it

no use pretending

i'm free

i can't even be bothered to exaggerate things
or turn them into art
like i'm sure gregory corso (beat poet children)
or christopher durang (playwright bobos)
could

i just blurt

see, don't you feel better
justin and jan and jotto

just schadenfreude your hearts out
while i go read
some beckett

i do have a lot of free time though

i should volunteer at the migrant workers office
that's the ticket

i told you this was therapy
not art

6 junio 2008: people got to be free

June 6, 2008

Op-Ed Columnist

Bits, Bands and Books (excerpt)

By PAUL KRUGMAN

...The predictions of ’90s technology gurus are coming true more slowly than enthusiasts expected — but the future they envisioned is still on the march.

In 1994, Esther Dyson made a striking prediction: that the ease with which digital content can be copied and disseminated would eventually force businesses to sell the results of creative activity cheaply, or even give it away. Whatever the product — software, books, music, movies — the cost of creation would have to be recouped indirectly: businesses would have to “distribute intellectual property free in order to sell services and relationships.”

For example, she described how some software companies gave their product away but earned fees for installation and servicing. But her most compelling illustration of how you can make money by giving stuff away was that of the Grateful Dead, who encouraged people to tape live performances because “enough of the people who copy and listen to Grateful Dead tapes end up paying for hats, T-shirts and performance tickets. In the new era, the ancillary market is the market.”

Indeed, it turns out that the Dead were business pioneers. Rolling Stone recently published an article titled “Rock’s New Economy: Making Money When CDs Don’t Sell.” Downloads are steadily undermining record sales — but today’s rock bands, the magazine reports, are finding other sources of income. Even if record sales are modest, bands can convert airplay and YouTube views into financial success indirectly, making money through “publishing, touring, merchandising and licensing.”

What other creative activities will become mainly ways to promote side businesses? How about writing books?

According to a report in The Times, the buzz at this year’s BookExpo America was all about electronic books. Now, e-books have been the coming, but somehow not yet arrived, thing for a very long time. (There’s an old Brazilian joke: “Brazil is the country of the future — and always will be.” E-books have been like that.) But we may finally have reached the point at which e-books are about to become a widely used alternative to paper and ink.

That’s certainly my impression after a couple of months’ experience with the device feeding the buzz, the Amazon Kindle. Basically, the Kindle’s lightness and reflective display mean that it offers a reading experience almost comparable to that of reading a traditional book. This leaves the user free to appreciate the convenience factor: the Kindle can store the text of many books, and when you order a new book, it’s literally in your hands within a couple of minutes.

It’s a good enough package that my guess is that digital readers will soon become common, perhaps even the usual way we read books.

How will this affect the publishing business? Right now, publishers make as much from a Kindle download as they do from the sale of a physical book. But the experience of the music industry suggests that this won’t last: once digital downloads of books become standard, it will be hard for publishers to keep charging traditional prices.

Indeed, if e-books become the norm, the publishing industry as we know it may wither away. Books may end up serving mainly as promotional material for authors’ other activities, such as live readings with paid admission. Well, if it was good enough for Charles Dickens, I guess it’s good enough for me...

Bit by bit, everything that can be digitized will be digitized, making intellectual property ever easier to copy and ever harder to sell for more than a nominal price. And we’ll have to find business and economic models that take this reality into account.

It won’t all happen immediately. But in the long run, we are all the Grateful Dead.

5 junio 2008: prelude to the hippy summer

after a month
i named the dog
miss poochie mizoguchi
i decided to walk to the post office

the flood extinguished the pilot
of the hot water heater

on the walk
i met people i did not know
i did not see anyone i knew
as though this were san francisco

the cook at the thai restaurant
complimented me on my
buddhist beads
and he laughed
and i laughed, too

this summer
i will let my gray hair grow long
and take many walks

every morning is free

this summer
is not telegraph avenue in 1966
i know that
no need to remind me

we are spending the summer
without hot water
in preparation for
our eventual relocation
to mexico
when social security kicks in

this summer
every day i will swim

someone spent a year
not buying anything
and wrote a book about it
that i won't buy

no hot water
long hair
a spanish-speaking dog
named miss poochie mizoguchi
the pool

this is the life
i always expected to live

every day
i throw something away

4 junio 2008: (nothing)

basement is flooded
on scheduled vacation days
what would jesus do

3 junio 2008: The Ritual of the Tracking Shot

3 junio 2008: Raising Sons

i have many
sons when i
never expected
to have
any
all of them three
like the tv show
the theme song
runs through my head

now they're old enough
kicking them out
is the hardest part of the job
it's my part of the job

sometimes they don't want to leave
sometimes they want to leave and they can't
sometimes they leave and come back
always they leave and come back

and back again

the whole thing
is the craziest system

who came up with it

after the earthquake
chinese couples worried
they would have no children
to care for them
when they were
old

are my sons
going to care for me
when i'm old

and do they know that yet
has anyone told them

how can i break it to them
in the same way
as the day
they left home
imagining they would be
on their own

2 junio 2008: I Love the Smell of Ozu in the Morning

2 junio 2008: Vacation

this is the week i'm not writing
see how well that works
not at all

this is the week i'm not planning
not at all
i may go to the post office
or not

experimenting with giving up writing
entirely
see how well that works

take every plan
edit outcomes in my head
retain detachment

i bought a ticket to mexico
before i noticed
my passport had expired
during allergy season

the daze of loss
a strange liberation
i only had the sunrise

i built a bonfire in the backyard
at 5:30

exquisite loss
a transcendental daze lingering
in the sunrise

for days

like an ozu movie
where the landscape matters
but the story does not
where the bucket in the hallway
is the purpose
and the drama
has none

this liberation
may it last may it prosper
strange pain to be free

i can no more change
thoughts that turn into writing
than my eye for love

2 junio 2008: In the Mood for Love