Aside from "Bartleby" my favorite short story of Melville's is "Taratus of the Maids." Written during his down period it resonates with gloom, grim fantasy, and dark symbolism; and for people like me who wallow in symbolism, I find it dramatic and fascinating, very playful and way ahead of his time. I suppose you could say the imagery is, if you will, overcooked, somewhat like his novel Pierre. But that's why these stories of his down period are so intriguing: the images and language may be exaggerations but they are meant to suggest there is a mystery hidden behind the facade of ordinary reality; they are also meant to implicate the inhumanity of the Industrial revolution. As an example of what I mean the man on his way to the paper mill in "Taratus" is called a "seedman" and the mill itself is found by traveling through "the black notch" which is described as "a Dante gateway," which runs along side "the Blood River" into the hollow called the "Devil's Dungeon," in the "invisible low-lands." The mill itself is described as "some great whited sepulchre, against the sullen background of the Woedolor Mountains." A guide named Cupid takes the seedman through the factory/mill to see the vast machine that never shuts down and wears out a pathetic tribe of virgin girls taken from nearby villages. Having worked in five factories myself, I get the picture. One summer I worked in a small punch press factory. There wasn't a guy in the place who wasn't missing a finger. Melville draws a picture of a frozen place, or what he calls "all-stiffening influence." The seedman" hustles to get away from this cold, dead place. He gets on his horse named "Black" and goes through "the Mad Maids Bellow-pipe" and "the Black Notch" away from "the inflexible iron "animal." "The Taratus of the Maids" draws a very negative picture of the all-encompassing influence of the Industrial enterprise rolling across America. To an extent, the story anticipates the tales on Franz Kafka.
Another book that I told S.B. she had to read to get an essential grasp of what Melville was all about, the changes he went through as an author of fierce honesty, is The Feminization of American Culture by Ann Douglas who teaches at Columbia University in NYC. Most of the book is devoted to the idea that most readers of fiction in the 19th century were of the genteel class, that is to say, they were women and their taste in literature was shaped by sentimental values and sappy religiosity. These are the values hawked in public by preachers and were accepted by the mainstream of readers. Preachers and holier-than-thou-critics teamed to push these values on the reading public, values that Melville increasingly despised. His first few books received a decent reception, although he received plenty of criticism for his anti-christian stance toward missionaries, who he felt were corrupting, not helping, the native islanders. Then he wrote Moby Dick which summed up what he had learned up to that point, a monumental novel in which he transcended everything he had done before, although Typee is a book so fresh, original, and singular it still rates highly as far as I am concerned. It reflects the birth of his power of thought and imagination. The book was well-received among the intelligentsia but not the general public who saw the book as bloated, far-fetched and too pro-natives, plus a tad racy. Think of Faraway, his lovely companion. The poor reception and sales of what he knew was an epochal book crushed his spirit, so then he wrote the rash and somewhat loony novel Pierre. It is a tale about a son who follows the sentimental culture his dominating mother ardently believes in, a son who then turns to a father that was unfaithful to his mother and fathers a girl with another woman, and son takes up with her, Isabel, the dark female, with whom he commits incest with, while dropping the girl, Lucy, (which means Light) who no longer his female of choice, the girl his mother wanted him to marry. They run away to NYC to live like "Bohemians" to write as he will. The novel ends tragically with a scene that will remind many of the end of Romeo and Juliet.
The public was outraged over the book, calling it filthy, shocking, and worse, which is exactly what Melville intended. Ann Douglas contends that HM from this point on writes
to irritate the sentimental public who can't comprehend a serious artist who has profound insight and skill. Being unwavering in his own convictions, he threw his stories into the face of the genteel crowd who never again would buy his books or stories. He fed off the hostility till he finally dropped out, forsaking his ambitions as a public figure. He had had enough of "snivilization." When the public asked why don't you write pleasant tales about the sea and exotic lands, HM would say, like Bartleby, "I would preferred not to."
Friday, August 2, 2013
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Crime novels and MOBY DICK
Between 1965 and 1975 a married pair of Swedish journalists decided to try their hand at Police Mystery Novels. The wife, Maj Siowall, and her husband, Per Whaloo, turned out ten books in a decade, crime stories that are now considered classics. There no more because Per Whaloo died. I had heard their names before but I had never read them. A good friend of mine gave me two of the books, which aren't easy to find, and I read then both in less than a week, not my usual pace. Actually, they are called "Martin Beck Police Mysteries,"which is misleading because the books feature an ensemble cast of detectives, rather than one man. Solving crimes is a kind of mosaic experience, with each man contributing to the final solution. The Laughing Policeman is especially like that, while the other novel, The Man Who Went Up In Smoke was less so.
The Laughing Policeman opens with a brutal and gory shooting on a two-Decker bus. Someone hid on the second deck and as the bus approached the end of the line he or she came down and using a Japanese model machine gun mowed down nine people on the bus, including a 29 year old detective who happened to be on the bus. Beck and others had no idea why he was on that bus. The scene inside the bus would rival the Newtown killings. There were no clues at the scene so they were starting from scratch. They later found out the young detective was shadowing someone trying to break a cold case by himself to get a promotion. The search for the killer is done in piecemeal fashion, and little by little, name by name, they get closer and closer to the killer. Its exciting to follow how they finally catch the killer. It was all a matter of being patient and connecting the dots.
Both novels are a kind of bare-bones investigations using career cops who have been around the block many times. There is no unnecessary rhetoric and a minimum of sex and guilty babes. In The Man Who Went Up In Smoke Martin Beck is dragged away from his vacation with his family and sent to Budapest to find out why a prominent journalist has disappeared. He could have refused the assignment but decides to take it on, which angers his long-suffering wife. When he gets to Budapest he behaves almost like he is on vacation. He discovers that the journalist signed up to stay at three hotels. But beyond that there is darkness, until he discovers three young people who seemed to lying about knowing the journalist. Two men send the third to test him out: is he friend or foe. She is a sexy girl and she spends a day with him and later she rips her dress off and wants to make love. Martin throws her dress back to her and tells her to beat it. Eventually Beck discovers a drug deal connection between the three and the journalist. They are smuggling Hash. To no one surprise Beck discovers the missing journalist is dead. The killer is a surprise, not anyone one would have suspected from the start.
S.B. and I are going back and forth about my favorite author, Herman Melville. She just finished reading Moby Dick for the first time and she's 69 yrs old. Better late than never. She has signed up for an online course about HM. The following is what I wrote her back.
Have you seen the latest Moby Dick? Its on cable and stars William Hurt as Captain Ahab and Charlie Cox as Starbuck. Although I generally regard Hurt as a fine actor I wasn't impressed by his portrayal of Ahab. His demeanor was all wrong and his voice didn't fit the character. The special effects were not too believable either. The 1956 version of the book was a better film than the one on cable. First of all, John Houston is a great director and Gregory Peck did a better job as the cracked Ahab. I think the rest of the cast was stronger, too. S.B. said she'll miss both films because she prefers to read the story rather than see a Hollywood interpretation, which automatically leave much out.
More tomorrow...
The Laughing Policeman opens with a brutal and gory shooting on a two-Decker bus. Someone hid on the second deck and as the bus approached the end of the line he or she came down and using a Japanese model machine gun mowed down nine people on the bus, including a 29 year old detective who happened to be on the bus. Beck and others had no idea why he was on that bus. The scene inside the bus would rival the Newtown killings. There were no clues at the scene so they were starting from scratch. They later found out the young detective was shadowing someone trying to break a cold case by himself to get a promotion. The search for the killer is done in piecemeal fashion, and little by little, name by name, they get closer and closer to the killer. Its exciting to follow how they finally catch the killer. It was all a matter of being patient and connecting the dots.
Both novels are a kind of bare-bones investigations using career cops who have been around the block many times. There is no unnecessary rhetoric and a minimum of sex and guilty babes. In The Man Who Went Up In Smoke Martin Beck is dragged away from his vacation with his family and sent to Budapest to find out why a prominent journalist has disappeared. He could have refused the assignment but decides to take it on, which angers his long-suffering wife. When he gets to Budapest he behaves almost like he is on vacation. He discovers that the journalist signed up to stay at three hotels. But beyond that there is darkness, until he discovers three young people who seemed to lying about knowing the journalist. Two men send the third to test him out: is he friend or foe. She is a sexy girl and she spends a day with him and later she rips her dress off and wants to make love. Martin throws her dress back to her and tells her to beat it. Eventually Beck discovers a drug deal connection between the three and the journalist. They are smuggling Hash. To no one surprise Beck discovers the missing journalist is dead. The killer is a surprise, not anyone one would have suspected from the start.
S.B. and I are going back and forth about my favorite author, Herman Melville. She just finished reading Moby Dick for the first time and she's 69 yrs old. Better late than never. She has signed up for an online course about HM. The following is what I wrote her back.
Have you seen the latest Moby Dick? Its on cable and stars William Hurt as Captain Ahab and Charlie Cox as Starbuck. Although I generally regard Hurt as a fine actor I wasn't impressed by his portrayal of Ahab. His demeanor was all wrong and his voice didn't fit the character. The special effects were not too believable either. The 1956 version of the book was a better film than the one on cable. First of all, John Houston is a great director and Gregory Peck did a better job as the cracked Ahab. I think the rest of the cast was stronger, too. S.B. said she'll miss both films because she prefers to read the story rather than see a Hollywood interpretation, which automatically leave much out.
More tomorrow...
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
A royal birth
7/23/2013 A royal birth
Princess Kate has delivered a royal baby, a boy, who will be third in line for the throne. The news has shoved politics and the Zimmerman debacle out of the central focus. There is a kind of poetic justice to this phenom--a new birth, royal or not, is always uplifting, a promising future, an ace in the hole. The dream still lives as Senator Kennedy like to say when things took a bad turn in society's progress. A new baby is a new hope, a new horizon of possible enlightenment.
In contrast, Ryan Brunn has canceled his ticket to the Hall of Fame by confessing to be a bald-face liar about taking PEDs. His dream, through his own shortcomings, has crashed in the desert of his deceptions. The statement he released yesterday was probably written by his agent or a PR man. All the caught players say the same thing. His feet are not made of clay, just sand blowing in the wind. It is going to be very difficult for him to recoup his career after such poor behavior. Still, he went home with $5 million in the bank from this year.
Princess Kate has delivered a royal baby, a boy, who will be third in line for the throne. The news has shoved politics and the Zimmerman debacle out of the central focus. There is a kind of poetic justice to this phenom--a new birth, royal or not, is always uplifting, a promising future, an ace in the hole. The dream still lives as Senator Kennedy like to say when things took a bad turn in society's progress. A new baby is a new hope, a new horizon of possible enlightenment.
In contrast, Ryan Brunn has canceled his ticket to the Hall of Fame by confessing to be a bald-face liar about taking PEDs. His dream, through his own shortcomings, has crashed in the desert of his deceptions. The statement he released yesterday was probably written by his agent or a PR man. All the caught players say the same thing. His feet are not made of clay, just sand blowing in the wind. It is going to be very difficult for him to recoup his career after such poor behavior. Still, he went home with $5 million in the bank from this year.
Monday, July 15, 2013
July 15, 2013: 52 Wedding Aniversary
Yup, 52 years and still going. Our love relationship has many unique features that has made the long haul possible, and my three books detail some of those factors, so this is no place to discuss them. When rough patches occurred we didn't abandon ship like so many people do. We worked through them rather than divorced. Patience and forgiveness was the key.
The Zimmerman trial is over . The jury of six women concluded he was not guilty, to the consternation of many. The defense team outwitted the prosecutor team. They did it by seizing the narrative, like the Republicans do from the Democrats. The defense made it seem that the true aggressor in the encounter that rainy night was Trayvon Martin, not the bigger guy with the gun. The tactic worked because Martin wasn't at the trial to give his side of the story. Nobody saw what really happened so Zimmerman was allowed to frame the story to his advantage. He became the victim and so self defense was his prerogative as they grappled on the sidewalk.The cornerstone of the jury's decision was the right wing notion of "stand-your-ground" law in Florida. The death became a justifiable homicide, when so many things pointed toward Zimmerman initiating the contact. As one of the prosecutor said, " You shot him not because you had to, but because you wanted to." On seeing Martin he called him "another fucking thug," when he knew absolutely nothing about the kid, other than he was black. But oddly, the Judge would not allow the word "racial" to be used when it was clear Zimmerman was profiling Trayvon as automatically suspicious because of the color of his skin. There have been protest around the country but I doubt anything will come of them.
I wish they was something new to say about the political scene, especially in regard to the Republicans, but they just keep going from bad to worse. The core of hard-nosed Republicans in the House are like a rock rolling downhill. Like during the Bill Clinton's second term, they are determined to undercut or block every bill Obama or the senate puts forward. They are proud to be the Do-Nothing Party. At a time when so many things need to be fixed they want to shrink the government to incapacity. A week or so ago the Demos were furious with the House because the Farm Bill they passed not only fattened the subsidies for the corporate farmers and removed all risk from farming, they jettisoned nutrition and food stamps. The reason: they want to cut more funds out of those programs, if they even deal with them. The two things have been linked for decades but no more. Many Demos spoke against the ploy, but the republicans just yawned and showed the same indifference and ignorance as they did to the poor.
It also appears that the Immigration Bill may not pass either. The senate bill is comprehensive but the House see it as too big, too complicated and that it should be slowed down. They want to cut it up into pieces and pass one piece at a time. Most important to them is the money they want to spend on border fortifications, including 20,000 more agents to patrol the border. And of course they believe that 11 million Latinos don't deserve amnesty or a path to citizenship. God, even G.W. Bush came out in favor of the bill, asking Republicans to show a "compassionate spirit." Fat chance that will happen.
Saturday, July 13, 2013
June19 to July 5: California here we come.
June19-July 6: California here we com
We used the portable concentrator in the SUV as well as every motel we stayed at. It was a bit awkward but the thing worked well. We plugged it in inside the vehicle but it actually ran on its batteries which would run down and we'd recharge them at every motel. We thought it was supposed to run on the SUV's power but it never did. I did take some canisters with, but it wasn't enough, so we had to stop at a place in San Luis Obispo and trade our empties for replacement canisters. I did spend some time off oxygen and I am trying to increase it all the time.
The ride back to Tucson was smooth and without incident.
Feeling it was time to test how real my improved health was Sue and I decided to take up Stan Derelian's invite to his and Anne's 50th wedding anniversary to be held at his sister's place in Paso Robles. Sharon Bergstrom in Santa Cruz, who I had recently reconnected with on Facebook also invited us to come to her place and stay as long as we want. We decided to drive but there was a problem: my driver's licesence had expired while I was sick, so it meant Sue would have to do all the driving. She said she could handle that and I felt it was better she drive otherwise she'd drive me nuts driving her precious Subaru. As usual she spent a lot of time planning the trip, which is her style and she's good at it. However, as it happened we picked a time to go just when a heat wave hit the West. It was 110 in Paso Robles and on the way home between Palmdale and Yuma the temp was 114. The SUV was not bothered by the heat and we were quite comfortable inside the vehicle. The motel in Yuma, a place Sue has stopped at many times has a huge pool which she took advantage of right away. We had two other cool stops alomg the way, a place called Dana's Point on the coast below Los Angeles, where it was foggy on the beach and the temp was 73. Only one motel had eggs and sausage for breakfast and that was Le Fuentes in Yuma; the rest served rolls and cereal and that's all. That did not square with our anti-inflammatory diet.
We used the portable concentrator in the SUV as well as every motel we stayed at. It was a bit awkward but the thing worked well. We plugged it in inside the vehicle but it actually ran on its batteries which would run down and we'd recharge them at every motel. We thought it was supposed to run on the SUV's power but it never did. I did take some canisters with, but it wasn't enough, so we had to stop at a place in San Luis Obispo and trade our empties for replacement canisters. I did spend some time off oxygen and I am trying to increase it all the time.
We saw Stan and Anne the evening we arrived and for two hours in the morning, which was nice, because otherwise they were surrounded by lots of friends. Their two boys, Stephen and Greg, organized the party and made a short film, like Nasima did for us for our 50th a couple years ago. The introduction was pretty funny because Greg used the intro to Star Wars with a script that applied to their years together. I made into the film which I took as an honor. After that they went around the room for stories, mostly about Stan, something we did not do at our party. Some of them were very funny. Anne, who is basically shy got in a few zingers that surprised me. The food they served was too fancy for my taste, so I nibbled and drank three glasses of wine. I also took about 20 pictures. Greg wanted me to say something but I declined, mostly because how bad my hands and arms looked. My arms were and still are covered with purple bruises and psoriasis, and my hands are covered with white scales. I looked like a leper.
Stan's sister's home is perched on a hill outside of town. The veranda faces east and you can see 50 miles. You can see the mountain range that is located near Bakersfield. It was spectacular view. While talking to Ray P. on the veranda he told me he said he had a great deal of admiration for my political protesting in the sixties and seventies, something he was never able to do. I said thanks and we moved on to other topics. We went back to the house the following morning, June 31, for breakfast, and then head to the freeway to go to Santa Cruz.
When we got to Sharon's place it was about 70 degrees which felt wonderful. We stayed there 3 days and nights and it stayed cool all that time. Sue walked on the beach; we had comfortable beds to sleep on and I slept well for all 8 days we were on the road; we ate well and had an extremely good time with Sharon and her latest man, Steve Lauper, as well as with John Robinson who came down from his mountain home to join the merriment. As Suzie likes to say, we laughed and scratched to our heart's content. Steve works for a radio station in Santa Cruz and is an artist, a new variety of print-maker. He does small drawings, splashy, very abstract, say about 8 x10, and then blows them up to a much larger size, so you see a mass of detail you wouldn't otherwise see. Sharon taught English classes at one of the local H.S. but retired 3 years ago after 27 years. I was a bit surprised to see how well Sue and her hit it off. They were like jolly sisters, getting off on each other; indeed, the energy of all 4 of us was sky high. On Sunday night Steve and John played their guitars and sang for a couple of hours. It was all great fun.
We spent some time with Sharon's kids, 37 year old Heather who like her mom teaches in a H.S. in Santa Cruz. She's the scientist in the family, teaching biology and chemistry. She seemed to be quite political as well. She's married but has no kids and doesn't want any. Shron's 23 year son, Mike, is quite a hustler and looks like the god Apollo, tall, blond, sharp, resourceful and ambitious. His nickname is "Broiler" because his last name is Pitt. He's the fruit of another father. Good kid. Reminded me a lot of my nephew Mike Pfaffl who died of an overdose in 1999. Broiler doesn't seem to be too interested in drugs. He's all business. He owns a high-end restaurant, a nightclub with a dance floor, a bar, and his own home, not to mention 5 vehicles. Jeez, at his age I was still wet behind the ears and always broke. I saw that painting of mine that Skip Wagner gave him, a very colorful and playful abstraction that I did my last year at UNLV. He also owns one of the drawings I put in EROS & PSYCHE. Both are in good hands. We are already making plans to go back to Santa Cruz next summer, only we will fly and stay longer.
The ride back to Tucson was smooth and without incident.
Thursday, June 20, 2013
6/20/2013
Skip Wagner was an old friend from Vegas who we had lost contact with about a dozen years ago. Sharon Bergstrom saw him in Santa Cruz, letting me know he was still around, and I found him by using his old address on Pioneer Way, just north of Vegas. We've exchanged a couple of emails since. I'm afraid he wasn't in a very good mood in regard his life as an artist. Even though he is getting between a thousand and four thousand for his work he said he felt like quitting because the art world was so phony and corrupt. He was one of the founders on the Burning Man event in the desert, but he put that down too, because it has gotten too commercial. One of the twins lives in Belgium, so he is back and forth quite a bit. All of his girls are doing well, aside from the fact one twin may lose a breast to cancer. He calls himself an "environmental sculptor." Seems an accurate designation.
Birth and Death in the Family...
On Feb. 19 Nasima gave birth to baby girl that she named Cora Elizabeth. Cora was Sue's grandmother's name on her mother's side. Nasima's change of diet and overall improvement of her health made this birth easy and better than Liam's birth 11 years ago. When hard labor began she popped the kid out in 5 minutes. Everyone present at the birth was amazed at how good Cora looked on arrival, and that included Sue and Kai who flew there for the birth.(At the same time I was home battling the worst phase of my illness. Cathy and Bill were my nurses.) I have seen Cora twice since the birth and we got along well. She is not a fussy baby and happily gets passed from one person to the next with no problems. Both Sue and I are goony about her, and behave like two delirious grandparents who are so happy Nasima had a girl. Nasima is proud she did such a good job and she should be. She is already talking about having another child. I think she is serious. She will be 39 in July.
Mary Ellen lost her battle with cancer, succumbing to the disease about six weeks ago. She was in great pain at the end so it was a good thing her suffering has stopped. There was no way I could make it to the funeral. Her brother Paul gave a great speech about his sister. He had everyone either laughing or crying. Mary Ellen was important to us, especially for Sue, because she was the one who finally found out what happened to her father. Took her about six weeks. She had the requisite skills on the computer and that made the difference. She did make a trip to Arizona in January so we had a chance to see her and hug her and express our gratitude close up the help she gave us. She was a little bit in love with me and I was certainly very fond of her. In many ways I regret I did not get closer to the Stetka family growing up. It was my uncle Joe's family and my dad was never that fond of Joe who was a drunk and a Republican. (There were two tragic deaths yesterday. In the morning Ace reporter Michael Hastings was killed in a car crash and later in the day we learned that James Goldolfini died while vacationing in Rome. Chris Hayes discussed Hastings last night on his program and today a lot of media were talking about Tony Soprano.)
Another death was that of Sue's Uncle Jim Conn, whose heart gave out at 95. He was the apple of his mother's eyes but made excuses for not seeing her very often. He'd tell her he'd see her on this or that Holiday and then change his mind. Suzie's mom, who was considered the runt of the litter, was Cora's most reliable child and saw to it that she was well taken care of in her declining years. She died at 92. Sue and Nasima saw Jim three years ago and were shocked how he lived. The house Suzie raved about 40 years was now a total mess. Outside plants were encroaching on the inside of the house and there was water under the rugs, making a squish noise when you walked over them. Jim was losing it and didn't seemed to care. Three years ago he told Sue he would leave her $5,000 to go to Cookville, TN., to bury his ashes next to his mother. That was pure bullshit, typical of Jim. When Sue talked to his lawyer after his death he said he had never heard of that plan; he wanted to be buried with other world war two vets in a memorial park in Detroit where he had lived since the 1950s. His claim to fame and what got him a lot of work as an architect was he had something to do with the Golden Arch in St. Louis. All things considered, the dude was self-absorbed and very selfish, thinking only about himself.
By the way there was surprise when I contacted Sharon. Her son "Broiler" Pitt was in possession of one of my late paintings which I had originally given to Skip Wagner. Broiler sent me a photo of the painting. I am glad to have and I think it is a damn good painting.
Skip Wagner was an old friend from Vegas who we had lost contact with about a dozen years ago. Sharon Bergstrom saw him in Santa Cruz, letting me know he was still around, and I found him by using his old address on Pioneer Way, just north of Vegas. We've exchanged a couple of emails since. I'm afraid he wasn't in a very good mood in regard his life as an artist. Even though he is getting between a thousand and four thousand for his work he said he felt like quitting because the art world was so phony and corrupt. He was one of the founders on the Burning Man event in the desert, but he put that down too, because it has gotten too commercial. One of the twins lives in Belgium, so he is back and forth quite a bit. All of his girls are doing well, aside from the fact one twin may lose a breast to cancer. He calls himself an "environmental sculptor." Seems an accurate designation.
Birth and Death in the Family...
On Feb. 19 Nasima gave birth to baby girl that she named Cora Elizabeth. Cora was Sue's grandmother's name on her mother's side. Nasima's change of diet and overall improvement of her health made this birth easy and better than Liam's birth 11 years ago. When hard labor began she popped the kid out in 5 minutes. Everyone present at the birth was amazed at how good Cora looked on arrival, and that included Sue and Kai who flew there for the birth.(At the same time I was home battling the worst phase of my illness. Cathy and Bill were my nurses.) I have seen Cora twice since the birth and we got along well. She is not a fussy baby and happily gets passed from one person to the next with no problems. Both Sue and I are goony about her, and behave like two delirious grandparents who are so happy Nasima had a girl. Nasima is proud she did such a good job and she should be. She is already talking about having another child. I think she is serious. She will be 39 in July.
Mary Ellen lost her battle with cancer, succumbing to the disease about six weeks ago. She was in great pain at the end so it was a good thing her suffering has stopped. There was no way I could make it to the funeral. Her brother Paul gave a great speech about his sister. He had everyone either laughing or crying. Mary Ellen was important to us, especially for Sue, because she was the one who finally found out what happened to her father. Took her about six weeks. She had the requisite skills on the computer and that made the difference. She did make a trip to Arizona in January so we had a chance to see her and hug her and express our gratitude close up the help she gave us. She was a little bit in love with me and I was certainly very fond of her. In many ways I regret I did not get closer to the Stetka family growing up. It was my uncle Joe's family and my dad was never that fond of Joe who was a drunk and a Republican. (There were two tragic deaths yesterday. In the morning Ace reporter Michael Hastings was killed in a car crash and later in the day we learned that James Goldolfini died while vacationing in Rome. Chris Hayes discussed Hastings last night on his program and today a lot of media were talking about Tony Soprano.)
Another death was that of Sue's Uncle Jim Conn, whose heart gave out at 95. He was the apple of his mother's eyes but made excuses for not seeing her very often. He'd tell her he'd see her on this or that Holiday and then change his mind. Suzie's mom, who was considered the runt of the litter, was Cora's most reliable child and saw to it that she was well taken care of in her declining years. She died at 92. Sue and Nasima saw Jim three years ago and were shocked how he lived. The house Suzie raved about 40 years was now a total mess. Outside plants were encroaching on the inside of the house and there was water under the rugs, making a squish noise when you walked over them. Jim was losing it and didn't seemed to care. Three years ago he told Sue he would leave her $5,000 to go to Cookville, TN., to bury his ashes next to his mother. That was pure bullshit, typical of Jim. When Sue talked to his lawyer after his death he said he had never heard of that plan; he wanted to be buried with other world war two vets in a memorial park in Detroit where he had lived since the 1950s. His claim to fame and what got him a lot of work as an architect was he had something to do with the Golden Arch in St. Louis. All things considered, the dude was self-absorbed and very selfish, thinking only about himself.
By the way there was surprise when I contacted Sharon. Her son "Broiler" Pitt was in possession of one of my late paintings which I had originally given to Skip Wagner. Broiler sent me a photo of the painting. I am glad to have and I think it is a damn good painting.
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
More r
More Return to the Mountain...6/19/2013
A few months ago my daughter Kaia, while I was deep in the throes of the arthritis attack, suggested I might consider selling my Ford Ranger to Anthony, Aaron's young nephew who would soon turn 16. I was offended and angry at the mere suggestion I give it up. A couple of months later Moses called wanting to know if I wanted to sell the vehicle. I turned him down too. As my affliction continued and Sue continued to drive me around, I began to soften up on the idea of selling the truck, as Sue didn't seem to mind driving me to appointments, etc. Another problem was my driver's license had expired while I was out of commission, so I just couldn't jump in the truck and take off when I was ready. This past week I was told the lad was seriously considering buying another Ford Ranger that had 180,000 miles on it. My truck has only 70,000 miles on it. That was the tipping point for me. He is a good kid and I thought back to the days when Sue's family gave us three cars and didn't charge us a penny. That was most generous of them to help us when we could not afford to buy a car. At first I thought I'd sell the truck to the kid, but after Sue and I talked it over we decided to charge him only $600 for the repairs we made this past week to bring the vehicle back up to speed. I bought the truck in 1999 and I have extremely good luck with it, putting very little money into it over the years. Hopefully it'll be good for Anthony also.
Facebook has been good to me lately. I used to wonder why so few people from Vegas had severed their ties to me when that was the place where I knew the most people. I seemed more connected with folks from California, Oregon, Racine, and a small handful on the east coast. Well, that has changed. In the last 6 weeks I have heard from Sharon Bergstrom (Murphy), Gary Gutierrez, Skip Wagner, Mike Pitt JR, and James Stanford. Craig Pyes was the only person connected previously.
Sharon looks as good as she ever looked, even though she is 69 years old. She still lives in Santa Cruz but is retired from HS teaching. Her two kids, Heather and Mike JR , still live there as well. Heather teaches biology in HS. She sent me a book on Lee Miller the photographer who was involved with the surrealist movement in Europe in the twenties and thirties. The lady was extremely beautiful when young and was very promiscuous through out her life. Her father was fond of photographing her in the nude and a number of people think they had an incestuous relationship. No one knows for sure. Sharon knew the author of the book who lives in the area. I learned more from the book than I did from the Doc that I saw several months ago sponsored by her son. I don't know how to rate her as a surrealist, as I have seen too few of her pictures. She seems to be more notorious than truly famous. Sharon it turns out is as much a Herman Melville fan as I am.
Gary Gutierrez was a student I had to butt heads with, he was so full of ego and false certainty.He left UNLV after two years to go to SFAI. He has been married twice, with his second wife ,Kari, quite good looking. I thought I had a lot of women in my life, but I don't compare to his, for he had one daughter in his first marriage and 5 granddaughters after that. He has a 15 year old son, Mason, from his second marriage. As for his career, he is the special effects man for Francis Ford Coppola, and his office is at Zoetropic in SF. He's work with THE GRATEFUL DEAD and has done some commercials. He told me I was one of three mentors that he has had, the other two being FFC and Philip Kaufman, another director. That's astute company. I was humbled and honored. I sent him copies of my two books. He loved the drawings.
I got much the same treatment from James Stanford; in fact, he blew me away with praise, which I did not expect. He told me a story about an incident in a design class that I frankly don't remember. He said he brought something to class he thought was hot shit, but apparently I didn't agree. So I picked up the work, which was matted, and brought it down over his head, saying, "So here, wear it." He was so embarrassed he ran out of class. He added in his email: "But, I knew you were right and I grew to appreciate your honesty and respected you for caring. You taught me not to cheat myself. Thanks." That almost brought tears to my eyes. Forty plus years later I learned what impact I had. It's nice to know my instincts were good. Some people might say, no wonder you didn't get tenure, but I got results, as James has been involved with art in LasVegas for all these years. He's also a dedicated Buddhist and is responsible for a Zen Center near where we used to live on Wilbur Drive. He has also written me some amusing emails about Dave Hickey who quit UNLV after 20 years. He and his wife moved to New Mexico, where his wife is teaching art history while he is writing a book on Christianity. I was surprised to find out James, after getting his Masters at UW in Seattle, came back to UNLV where he taught for 18 years, the same amount of years I spent at St. Andrew's.
Interestingly, we stole from each other. When I left Vegas James gave me a drawing that featured a lion-man whose chunky body looked somewhat like mine. One day in Tucson I decided to do a drawing using James' figure. It turned out very well, so much so it is the first drawing in EROS & PSYCHE, one of the books I published in 2012. The figure has a fish in one hand and has wings, so the image or icon suggests both depth and flying, some familiarity with the unconscious and some experience of elevation or spiritual insight. Accompanying the lion-man on a kind of raft are a few other symbols; a representation of the persona, a mask tied to a fat candle, the flame still lit but wavering in the wind. The candle sits on the edge of an opening that shows flames emerging from inside a darkened space below. A crown lies on the floor of the platform, along side a broken mirror, which is rectangular, like the opening in the floor. The top half of the drawing shows desert forms, what I call a midnight sky, that has an intricate mandala that has two snakes in the outer circle and then a cross with heart in the center of the fiery mandala. Finally, there is a small almost unnoticed bridge connecting the lower region to the upper world. End of story. It is one of the strongest and clearest symbolic narratives I've come up with. It packs a lot in one image.
A few months ago my daughter Kaia, while I was deep in the throes of the arthritis attack, suggested I might consider selling my Ford Ranger to Anthony, Aaron's young nephew who would soon turn 16. I was offended and angry at the mere suggestion I give it up. A couple of months later Moses called wanting to know if I wanted to sell the vehicle. I turned him down too. As my affliction continued and Sue continued to drive me around, I began to soften up on the idea of selling the truck, as Sue didn't seem to mind driving me to appointments, etc. Another problem was my driver's license had expired while I was out of commission, so I just couldn't jump in the truck and take off when I was ready. This past week I was told the lad was seriously considering buying another Ford Ranger that had 180,000 miles on it. My truck has only 70,000 miles on it. That was the tipping point for me. He is a good kid and I thought back to the days when Sue's family gave us three cars and didn't charge us a penny. That was most generous of them to help us when we could not afford to buy a car. At first I thought I'd sell the truck to the kid, but after Sue and I talked it over we decided to charge him only $600 for the repairs we made this past week to bring the vehicle back up to speed. I bought the truck in 1999 and I have extremely good luck with it, putting very little money into it over the years. Hopefully it'll be good for Anthony also.
Facebook has been good to me lately. I used to wonder why so few people from Vegas had severed their ties to me when that was the place where I knew the most people. I seemed more connected with folks from California, Oregon, Racine, and a small handful on the east coast. Well, that has changed. In the last 6 weeks I have heard from Sharon Bergstrom (Murphy), Gary Gutierrez, Skip Wagner, Mike Pitt JR, and James Stanford. Craig Pyes was the only person connected previously.
Sharon looks as good as she ever looked, even though she is 69 years old. She still lives in Santa Cruz but is retired from HS teaching. Her two kids, Heather and Mike JR , still live there as well. Heather teaches biology in HS. She sent me a book on Lee Miller the photographer who was involved with the surrealist movement in Europe in the twenties and thirties. The lady was extremely beautiful when young and was very promiscuous through out her life. Her father was fond of photographing her in the nude and a number of people think they had an incestuous relationship. No one knows for sure. Sharon knew the author of the book who lives in the area. I learned more from the book than I did from the Doc that I saw several months ago sponsored by her son. I don't know how to rate her as a surrealist, as I have seen too few of her pictures. She seems to be more notorious than truly famous. Sharon it turns out is as much a Herman Melville fan as I am.
Gary Gutierrez was a student I had to butt heads with, he was so full of ego and false certainty.He left UNLV after two years to go to SFAI. He has been married twice, with his second wife ,Kari, quite good looking. I thought I had a lot of women in my life, but I don't compare to his, for he had one daughter in his first marriage and 5 granddaughters after that. He has a 15 year old son, Mason, from his second marriage. As for his career, he is the special effects man for Francis Ford Coppola, and his office is at Zoetropic in SF. He's work with THE GRATEFUL DEAD and has done some commercials. He told me I was one of three mentors that he has had, the other two being FFC and Philip Kaufman, another director. That's astute company. I was humbled and honored. I sent him copies of my two books. He loved the drawings.
I got much the same treatment from James Stanford; in fact, he blew me away with praise, which I did not expect. He told me a story about an incident in a design class that I frankly don't remember. He said he brought something to class he thought was hot shit, but apparently I didn't agree. So I picked up the work, which was matted, and brought it down over his head, saying, "So here, wear it." He was so embarrassed he ran out of class. He added in his email: "But, I knew you were right and I grew to appreciate your honesty and respected you for caring. You taught me not to cheat myself. Thanks." That almost brought tears to my eyes. Forty plus years later I learned what impact I had. It's nice to know my instincts were good. Some people might say, no wonder you didn't get tenure, but I got results, as James has been involved with art in LasVegas for all these years. He's also a dedicated Buddhist and is responsible for a Zen Center near where we used to live on Wilbur Drive. He has also written me some amusing emails about Dave Hickey who quit UNLV after 20 years. He and his wife moved to New Mexico, where his wife is teaching art history while he is writing a book on Christianity. I was surprised to find out James, after getting his Masters at UW in Seattle, came back to UNLV where he taught for 18 years, the same amount of years I spent at St. Andrew's.
Interestingly, we stole from each other. When I left Vegas James gave me a drawing that featured a lion-man whose chunky body looked somewhat like mine. One day in Tucson I decided to do a drawing using James' figure. It turned out very well, so much so it is the first drawing in EROS & PSYCHE, one of the books I published in 2012. The figure has a fish in one hand and has wings, so the image or icon suggests both depth and flying, some familiarity with the unconscious and some experience of elevation or spiritual insight. Accompanying the lion-man on a kind of raft are a few other symbols; a representation of the persona, a mask tied to a fat candle, the flame still lit but wavering in the wind. The candle sits on the edge of an opening that shows flames emerging from inside a darkened space below. A crown lies on the floor of the platform, along side a broken mirror, which is rectangular, like the opening in the floor. The top half of the drawing shows desert forms, what I call a midnight sky, that has an intricate mandala that has two snakes in the outer circle and then a cross with heart in the center of the fiery mandala. Finally, there is a small almost unnoticed bridge connecting the lower region to the upper world. End of story. It is one of the strongest and clearest symbolic narratives I've come up with. It packs a lot in one image.
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
The Return to the Mountain
More Return to the Mountain...6/19/2013
A few months ago my daughter Kaia, while I was deep in the throes of the arthritis attack, suggested I might consider selling my Ford Ranger to Anthony, Aaron's young nephew who would soon turn 16. I was offended and angry at the mere suggestion I give it up. A couple of months later Moses called wanting to know if I wanted to sell the vehicle. I turned him down too. As my affliction continued and Sue continued to drive me around, I began to soften up on the idea of selling the truck, as Sue didn't seem to mind driving me to appointments, etc. Another problem was my driver's license had expired while I was out of commission, so I just couldn't jump in the truck and take off when I was ready. This past week I was told the lad was seriously considering buying another Ford Ranger that had 180,000 miles on it. My truck has only 70,000 miles on it. That was the tipping point for me. He is a good kid and I thought back to the days when Sue's family gave us three cars and didn't charge us a penny. That was most generous of them to help us when we could not afford to buy a car. At first I thought I'd sell the truck to the kid, but after Sue and I talked it over we decided to charge him only $600 for the repairs we made this past week to bring the vehicle back up to speed. I bought the truck in 1999 and I have extremely good luck with it, putting very little money into it over the years. Hopefully it'll be good for Anthony also.
Facebook has been good to me lately. I used to wonder why so few people from Vegas had severed their ties to me when that was the place where I knew the most people. I seemed more connected with folks from California, Oregon, Racine, and a small handful on the east coast. Well, that has changed. In the last 6 weeks I have heard from Sharon Bergstrom (Murphy), Gary Gutierrez, Skip Wagner, Mike Pitt JR, and James Stanford. Craig Pyes was the only person connected previously.
Sharon looks as good as she ever looked, even though she is 69 years old. She still lives in Santa Cruz but is retired from HS teaching. Her two kids, Heather and Mike JR , still live there as well. Heather teaches biology in HS. Sharon sent me a book on Lee Miller the photographer who was involved with the surrealist movement in Europe in the twenties and thirties. The lady was extremely beautiful when young and was very promiscuous through out her life. Her father was fond of photographing her in the nude and a number of people think they had an incestuous relationship. No one knows for sure. Sharon knew the author of the book who lives in the area. I learned more from the book than I did from the Doc that I saw several months ago sponsored by her son. I don't know how to rate her as a surrealist, as I have seen too few of her pictures. She seems to be more notorious than truly famous. Sharon it turns out is as much a Herman Melville fan as I am.
Gary Gutierrez was a student I had to butt heads with, he was so full of ego and false certainty. He left UNLV after two years to go to SFAI. He has been married twice, with his second wife ,Kari, quite good looking. I thought I had a lot of women in my life, but I don't compare to his, for he had one daughter in his first marriage and 5 granddaughters after that. He has a 15 year old son, Mason, from his second marriage. As for his career, he is the special effects man for Francis Ford Coppola, and his office is at Zoetropic in SF. He's work with THE GRATEFUL DEAD and has done some commercials. He told me I was one of three mentors that he has had, the other two being FFC and Philip Kaufman, another director. That's astute company. I was humbled and honored. I sent him copies of my two books. He loved the drawings.
I got much the same treatment from James Stanford; in fact, he blew me away with praise, which I did not expect. He told me a story about an incident in a design class that I frankly don't remember. He said he brought something to class he thought was hot shit, but apparently I didn't agree. So I picked up the work, which was matted, and brought it down over his head, saying, "So here, wear it." He was so embarrassed he ran out of class. He added in his email: "But, I knew you were right and I grew to appreciate your honesty and respected you for caring. You taught me not to cheat myself. Thanks." That almost brought tears to my eyes. Forty plus years later I learned what impact I had. It's nice to know my instincts were good. Some people might say, no wonder you didn't get tenure, but I got results, as James has been involved with art in LasVegas for all these years. He's also a dedicated Buddhist and is responsible for a Zen Center near where we used to live on Wilbur Drive. He has also written me some amusing emails about Dave Hickey who quit UNLV after 20 years. He and his wife moved to New Mexico, where his wife is teaching art history while he is writing a book on Christianity. I was surprised to find out James, after getting his Masters at UW in Seattle, came back to UNLV where he taught for 18 years, the same amount of years I spent at St. Andrew's.
Interestingly, we stole from each other. When I left Vegas James gave me a drawing that featured a lion-man whose chunky body looked somewhat like mine. One day in Tucson I decided to do a drawing using James' figure. It turned out very well, so much so it is the first drawing in EROS & PSYCHE, one of the books I published in 2012. The figure has a fish in one hand and has wings, so the image or icon suggests both depth and height, some familiarity with the unconscious and some experience of elevation or spiritual insight. Accompanying the lion-man on a kind of raft are a few other symbols; a representation of the persona, a mask tied to a fat candle, the flame still lit but wavering in the wind. The candle sits on the edge of an opening that shows flames emerging from inside a darkened space below. A crown lies on the floor of the platform, along side a broken mirror, which is rectangular, like the opening in the floor. The top half of the drawing shows desert forms, what I call a midnight sky, that has an intricate mandala which has two snakes in the outer circle and then a cross with heart in the center of the fiery mandala. Finally, there is a small almost unnoticed bridge connecting the lower region to the upper world. End of story. It is one of the strongest and clearest symbolic narratives I've come up with. It packs a lot in one image.
James stole from me in the sense he did a painting that, first of all, shows his love for the Flemish painters, while in the center is a flaming black orb whose flames are elaborately painted in rainbow colors. He said he was flattered I stole from him and I feel likewise about his use of the black orb.
To be continued...
A few months ago my daughter Kaia, while I was deep in the throes of the arthritis attack, suggested I might consider selling my Ford Ranger to Anthony, Aaron's young nephew who would soon turn 16. I was offended and angry at the mere suggestion I give it up. A couple of months later Moses called wanting to know if I wanted to sell the vehicle. I turned him down too. As my affliction continued and Sue continued to drive me around, I began to soften up on the idea of selling the truck, as Sue didn't seem to mind driving me to appointments, etc. Another problem was my driver's license had expired while I was out of commission, so I just couldn't jump in the truck and take off when I was ready. This past week I was told the lad was seriously considering buying another Ford Ranger that had 180,000 miles on it. My truck has only 70,000 miles on it. That was the tipping point for me. He is a good kid and I thought back to the days when Sue's family gave us three cars and didn't charge us a penny. That was most generous of them to help us when we could not afford to buy a car. At first I thought I'd sell the truck to the kid, but after Sue and I talked it over we decided to charge him only $600 for the repairs we made this past week to bring the vehicle back up to speed. I bought the truck in 1999 and I have extremely good luck with it, putting very little money into it over the years. Hopefully it'll be good for Anthony also.
Facebook has been good to me lately. I used to wonder why so few people from Vegas had severed their ties to me when that was the place where I knew the most people. I seemed more connected with folks from California, Oregon, Racine, and a small handful on the east coast. Well, that has changed. In the last 6 weeks I have heard from Sharon Bergstrom (Murphy), Gary Gutierrez, Skip Wagner, Mike Pitt JR, and James Stanford. Craig Pyes was the only person connected previously.
Sharon looks as good as she ever looked, even though she is 69 years old. She still lives in Santa Cruz but is retired from HS teaching. Her two kids, Heather and Mike JR , still live there as well. Heather teaches biology in HS. Sharon sent me a book on Lee Miller the photographer who was involved with the surrealist movement in Europe in the twenties and thirties. The lady was extremely beautiful when young and was very promiscuous through out her life. Her father was fond of photographing her in the nude and a number of people think they had an incestuous relationship. No one knows for sure. Sharon knew the author of the book who lives in the area. I learned more from the book than I did from the Doc that I saw several months ago sponsored by her son. I don't know how to rate her as a surrealist, as I have seen too few of her pictures. She seems to be more notorious than truly famous. Sharon it turns out is as much a Herman Melville fan as I am.
Gary Gutierrez was a student I had to butt heads with, he was so full of ego and false certainty. He left UNLV after two years to go to SFAI. He has been married twice, with his second wife ,Kari, quite good looking. I thought I had a lot of women in my life, but I don't compare to his, for he had one daughter in his first marriage and 5 granddaughters after that. He has a 15 year old son, Mason, from his second marriage. As for his career, he is the special effects man for Francis Ford Coppola, and his office is at Zoetropic in SF. He's work with THE GRATEFUL DEAD and has done some commercials. He told me I was one of three mentors that he has had, the other two being FFC and Philip Kaufman, another director. That's astute company. I was humbled and honored. I sent him copies of my two books. He loved the drawings.
I got much the same treatment from James Stanford; in fact, he blew me away with praise, which I did not expect. He told me a story about an incident in a design class that I frankly don't remember. He said he brought something to class he thought was hot shit, but apparently I didn't agree. So I picked up the work, which was matted, and brought it down over his head, saying, "So here, wear it." He was so embarrassed he ran out of class. He added in his email: "But, I knew you were right and I grew to appreciate your honesty and respected you for caring. You taught me not to cheat myself. Thanks." That almost brought tears to my eyes. Forty plus years later I learned what impact I had. It's nice to know my instincts were good. Some people might say, no wonder you didn't get tenure, but I got results, as James has been involved with art in LasVegas for all these years. He's also a dedicated Buddhist and is responsible for a Zen Center near where we used to live on Wilbur Drive. He has also written me some amusing emails about Dave Hickey who quit UNLV after 20 years. He and his wife moved to New Mexico, where his wife is teaching art history while he is writing a book on Christianity. I was surprised to find out James, after getting his Masters at UW in Seattle, came back to UNLV where he taught for 18 years, the same amount of years I spent at St. Andrew's.
Interestingly, we stole from each other. When I left Vegas James gave me a drawing that featured a lion-man whose chunky body looked somewhat like mine. One day in Tucson I decided to do a drawing using James' figure. It turned out very well, so much so it is the first drawing in EROS & PSYCHE, one of the books I published in 2012. The figure has a fish in one hand and has wings, so the image or icon suggests both depth and height, some familiarity with the unconscious and some experience of elevation or spiritual insight. Accompanying the lion-man on a kind of raft are a few other symbols; a representation of the persona, a mask tied to a fat candle, the flame still lit but wavering in the wind. The candle sits on the edge of an opening that shows flames emerging from inside a darkened space below. A crown lies on the floor of the platform, along side a broken mirror, which is rectangular, like the opening in the floor. The top half of the drawing shows desert forms, what I call a midnight sky, that has an intricate mandala which has two snakes in the outer circle and then a cross with heart in the center of the fiery mandala. Finally, there is a small almost unnoticed bridge connecting the lower region to the upper world. End of story. It is one of the strongest and clearest symbolic narratives I've come up with. It packs a lot in one image.
James stole from me in the sense he did a painting that, first of all, shows his love for the Flemish painters, while in the center is a flaming black orb whose flames are elaborately painted in rainbow colors. He said he was flattered I stole from him and I feel likewise about his use of the black orb.
To be continued...
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