The sunset was all bruisy looking,
pinks and blues cut like cords through the dark sea clouds.

As the light begins its ascent on each day and as the days commence their advance toward the new year it occurs to me that 2010 is ripe for illumination.

I never give up, as my confreres understand, because they never do, either.  And a good thing too, for them and for me, because creating art is a lifelong endeavor - its morsels are spied on through the eyes, touched by the fingertips, listened to in the rhythms of the wind. 

Welcome, 2010, let’s soar. 

Here I am, a month since my last post, checking in.  I’ve been busy writing and a good thing too because there’s a bend in the road up ahead and I’m following it. 

I’ll have some observations after the PEN Literary Awards in December.  Dustin Lance Black is accepting for best screenplay. 

Sunday the time falls back an hour so don’t forget to prepare for the light adjustment. 

I know a lot of people right now who are hurting, in pain. It is a big topic to tackle but here goes . . . The opposite of pain is no pain. Perhaps I’m just not attached to life like others are. And before I get “suicide” emails, I am happy right now, so don’t get me wrong.

I count on people and 95% of the time they count on me and it works. Why should I ponder that nagging 5%? It’s the old adage — I’m walking down a road. On one side of the road are 95 people who love me and support me. On the other side of the road are 5 people who use me and play me like a fool and wouldn’t give me air if I were suffocating in an airless bottle. I decide to focus on the 95 people, the 95%, who are behind me, with me, encouraging me, dancing with me.

To the 5%, I’ve seen your ilk throughout my life and the one rule about your ilk is that you are cowardly and weak, all talk and no action. You love what you see at first but then you realize I am a man of my word and you run away because the truth scares you, your dreams scare you, your goals keep changing as you dodge your truth, as you choose to suffer and feel pain and wallow in it behind a big ass pose. If you can’t follow through on one dream then the other dreams will evaporate.

Pain.

Rep. Joe Wilson, Republican from South Carolina, called the President of the United States a liar tonight, in front of Congress, in front of the television cameras and the American people and most importantly, in front of the President’s wife, Michelle.  Can you imagine the outcry if a Democrat called a Republican President a liar on national television, in front of the Congress, the American people and his wife?  While I have witnessed unpatriotic behavior since President Obama was elected, I have never witnessed this level of vitriol in my life.  As long as the Republican party and its elected officials and members condone this behavior in their silence, their winks and nods, their “oh yes, Rep. Wilson should apologize” insincerity, I call them traitors, unfit to serve our country. 

I call out the birthers and the racists and the tea partiers who dare disrespect President Obama, the man who was “legally” elected to the office;  I call out my friends who send me lies via email forwards;  and especially I call out the racist South Carolinian, Rep. JOE WILSON — be careful.  Dressed in your Fox furs, you’re all beginning to look like the hatred you have in your hearts. 

Rest in Peace.  You are the one and only . . . 

I do not understand why people are bringing guns to Obama town hall meetings. I do not understand why people are bringing guns to town hall meetings period. Did I forget to wake up for a decade? What has happened to my country?

It’s all about might, right? Not about facts, but about who has the biggest gun, the most guns, right?

Our health care system is in peril. A public option is vital. But it’s about death panels, right? About guns, right? About lies, right?

I don’t have any answers, I am too mesmerized by what I see and hear and read during this long August month. I don’t even watch TV “news” except for excerpts on the web and then what I find is opinion, not news. Not facts. Not honest debates.

I live in California, a state that is bankrupt, a state that is filled with bankrupt people. This is not the California I fell in love with in 1974 or 1962 for that matter, when I lived here with my mom, dad, and sister after Dad broke his back in a car accident.

So, I do not recognize my state. I do not recognize my country. I do not relate to the zealous people who carry guns to town hall meetings and National Parks.

I am grateful that I’m a writer, that I have a new script and a new novel to work on because without them, I frankly think I would go crazy. Or toss in my U.S currency, my U.S. chips and move to Ibiza or Scotland. I still might.

Anyone out there have any answers, any ideas, any worries or wonders you want to share? Please post them here if you do because I’m all out of juice.

Lies are not lies as long as they are repeated over and over.

Respect for others and manners, yes manners, are dying.

Civility is a thing of the past.

Hypocrites are championed.

Rude behavior is admired.

Religion is used as a shield to repel criticism.

Love is laughed at.

Hate is rewarded.

More and more I hear and read the word “seen” used as the past tense of “see.” The past tense of “see” is “saw.” “Seen” is the past participle of “see,” not the past tense of “see.”

I see.
I saw.
I have seen.

One day I see Jane standing outside my neighbor Dick’s house. Dick also sees Jane standing outside his house. Later Dick tells me he saw Jane standing outside his house the previous day. He has now seen her standing outside his house for two days in a row.

Dick believes Jane has seen him. He believes he is being stalked.

I tell Dick not to worry, that I seen Jane standing outside his house for just that one day.

Dick punches me in the mouth and tells me I have used the word “seen” improperly.

He is right.

The moral of this story is: Do not punch people in the mouth for using “seen” improperly, just tell them: “This improper use cannot be allowed to continue, it is a threat to the eardrums and the English language.” Then have the offender repeat after you:

“I see.
I saw.
I have seen.”

Through unmarked doors dreams walk

introduce themselves

ask permission to accompany you

for a bit of time.

Through unmarked doors you walk

permission given to the dreams

it is a racy life

living with your dreams and you.

You do not know

another way

to live.

You cried today

your tears heavy 

with dream residue.

Tomorrow

other dreams

will walk through

the unmarked doors.

It is a racy life

it is yours.