Hot Wax, Old Lovers, Scotch, Reanimated Corpses and Angelina Jolie

When Odyssey's men were to pass by the island of the Sirens, he had wax poured in all their ears so they could not hear the song they sung what drew sailors to their deaths. But, curious man he was, he first had them strap him to the mast, with instructions that, until they were out of sight of the island, no matter how fiercely he struggled or gestured, they should not unlash him.

He knew what was coming and set impediments, or at least warnings and wards, in his path.

The next week is going to be pretty stressful on me, so I want to get in my licks now, before the stresses malform me for a brief season. Don't worry, no matter how freakish my attitudes will be over the next eight or nine days, I will be fine...if my flesh endures so shall my spirit, which was always made of still sterner stuff than my bulletproof form.

Tomorrow is August 12. Big deal you say? Not for me. For a half decade my soul was merged and made strong by my union with Nancy, whom I have called Psyche and the Electric Lady in my works. August 12 is her birthday. There is only one more sacred day on my emotional calendar than that, November 1. And she and I know the import of that day. Tomorrow will be a day of sorrows and celebration. Last I heard she was well and happy. I hope this year finds her thus as well.

August 14 was the day we used to celebrate together, as it is the midpoint between her birthday and mine. Romantic, no? It made sense to us as it signified that we were no longer two people, but one joined destiny. That will also be rough for me.

August 16th draws nigh. Elvis died on that day. But, more importantly for future generations, that is my birthday (yes, I know I share it with Madonna, Frank Gifford and some former daytime hostess...woo-woo...). I turn the big 5-0 this year (me, Mel Gibson, Billy Bob Thornton, Kevin Costner and Bruce Willis are all in a twelve month span, from what I understand...I'd like to have Gibson's money, Willis' physique, Thornton's ex wife, and Costner's...er...well, we can't have it all...). This will be the first in many a year since I have been in a relationship, even last year I had Ann making (I am sure under the table) assurances that the separation would be over soon (usually followed by a reque$t of some sort or other), and she called on my birthday. I don't expect that from her this year. And last year I did not hear from my daughter (this was the first real sign that she had grown mute to my existence). We shall see if either of them steps up this year. If not, Matthew 10:14 comes to mind.

Then comes the 17th, speaking of that Bible verse, and I am to speak as part of "Arts Week" in Morgantown. I would rather face a room full of strangers than a crowd where there are friends and family looking at me. The one exception was the assembly at St. Mary's School in Salinas. Having a few hundred beautiful, well-groomed, uniformed Catholic schoolgirls file in to listen to you is something of a Kevin Smith nightmare (or wet dream, or both). It marked the only occasion in my life an audience has ever intimidated me. Of course, woman have always been my Achilles heel, I guess we know what I was held by when dipped in the River Styx. Ouch.

I may be going to see the boys on the 18th. That is always stressful to me. And, with my new work schedule, it is complicated to do.

And then, on the 19th, I am one of the guests for "Malt on the Mon"...one of the first local tests of my celebrityhood. If this was LA or New York, no problem, I know the crowd I'd get and their timber...this is different. But it's cool, I probably need a cold shower for my ego, the new book is just too magnificent...for the first time in my existence I am producing packaged material as good as I know I can...of course, my psych profile tells me now I have to step up and not just hit home runs, but screaming line drives that decapitate the pitcher on their way up and out of the stadium, leaving a flaming trail agaianst the gloaming skies.

Excelsior.

Now, you know some of the stresses I am facing (that combined with having a daytime gig at Teletech where I make a salary about 1/5th what I am used to making, but I am surrounded everyday by dozens of charming, intelligent and beautiful women, so there's that)...so please, if next week I miss a deadline, or babble, or type in all caps one entry, excuse my humanity. I have come to accept that fact that in some ways, humanness is not something most of my readers excpect from me.

I am often reminded of Deborah Atherton's statement, upon meting me, after having know me online for a while, that she was "expecting Charlton Heston, but got John Lennon"...to this day it remians one of the sweetest compliments I have ever received, on so many levels. By the way, check out the information on her opera about Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley (the young woman who wed Percy Bysshe Shelley and wrote "Frankenstein") at this link The Mary Shelley Opera. You'll find it remarkable, as the woman who co-wrote it is.

I digress. As always. I have a book to go work on. You, get on with your life or go viisit my website and drop me a line about a work or two, I always like comments...and, if you have a sister...