Did it...
check out
RADIO CITY OF LEGENDS
Thanks to everyone who made it possible.
As a poet, a writer of poetry, whose very life revolves around his works and expression, expanding into a new frontier is very gratifying.
Much love to all.
gotta let those suckers charge...
we'll be "live" at Radio City of Legends in 6 hours, 43 minutes...access will be through the front end of the City of Legends at www.cityoflegends.com
or through a direct link I'll post here just after throwing the switch.
still frantically working to get the last few files ready for the opening...
Went and saw "The Weatherman" yesterday...as usual, Nicolas Cage has an uncanny knack for engaging the audience as extensions of his everyman persona. Good film, well acted, and earnest in its approach to the true complexities of life (and it was worth just the price of admission, beyond Cage, to see Michael Caine as his father, his character's direct, no-nonsense approach to life typified by his explaining what a "camel-toe" is to his son).
In the last two and a half years (ever since I took the step of leaving California) I have been addressed on several occasions by people who wonder why I'm in Missisippi or West Virginia, or why I am not doing, as my career path, those things that I have proven myself capable of and competent at...especially in light of my eternally blossoming debt. It's a fair question, though often phrased as "What the hell are you doing here when you can do that?"
Hiding. Healing. Considering. The conflict of the maxims "He who hesitates is lost" and "Marry in haste, repent at leisure".
I have four things left to accomplish before I can, in good conscience, blow this popsicle stand...don't think I am not pressed to the stone, shoulders and back aching and legs throbbing as I press upwards. Sisyphus is a myth...I am not...eventually either the hill, the stone or the flesh gives out.
Place your bets.
Set my clock back, so I am slightly disoriented, but got a lot done last night towards to podcasts...now down to hours until launch.
I am enjoying the give and take with Frida, a "fellow" blogger...she has the kind of personality you don't find a lot of in Morgantown (it makes me miss Los Angeles all the more)...I shall have to make an effort to make sure I peg down at least one reading venue in her area (Chicago, I believe) when I tour in the Spring...
Haven't heard from several friends in weeks, making me wonder if theu're okay...I have one circle of friends that I only contact via email...and when they go silent, I have no idea if they are alive or dead. Or constrained (more than once a friend (or even ex-wife) has been banned from speaking to me by people who see something sinister in my veyu existence...c'mon guys, I am not the Anti-Christ (indeed, as an ordained minister and a frequent writer on religious topics, as well as a practicing Christian, I am sad for anyone who sees danger in my very existence...)
Anyway, feeling strong today...like Sisyphus, I have purpose. Tune in for Radio City of Legends tomorrow night, I think you're in for some BIG surprises.
Set my clock back, so I am slightly disoriented, but got a lot done last night towards to podcasts...now down to hours until launch.
I am enjoying the give and take with Frida, a "fellow" blogger...she has the kind of personality you don't find a lot of in Morgantown (it makes me miss Los Angeles all the more)...I shall have to make an effort to make sure I peg down at least one reading venue in her area (Chicago, I believe) when I tour in the Spring...
Haven't heard from several friends in weeks, making me wonder if theu're okay...I have one circle of friends that I only contact via email...and when they go silent, I have no idea if they are alive or dead. Or constrained (more than once a friend (or even ex-wife) has been banned from speaking to me by people who see something sinister in my veyu existence...c'mon guys, I am not the Anti-Christ (indeed, as an ordained minister and a frequent writer on religious topics, as well as a practicing Christian, I am sad for anyone who sees danger in my very existence...)
Anyway, feeling strong today...like Sisyphus, I have purpose. Tune in for Radio City of Legends tomorrow night, I think you're in for some BIG surprises.
There's a line in the book "Don Quixote, USA" where the South American dictator, having been given a clever idea by his aide tells him that he is very clever, which means he either has to promote him or have him shot.
Sometimes I feel that way about E.J.
Not that I was truly offended by his little psycho-historical analysis of me and my life, I just am not one to wallow in my own doubts. I don't own a gun, and there are no openings above 2nd in command, so I'll have to just keep my peace and let it be at that.
Just heard from Tag last night...their power was taken out by the snowstorm and they just got power back yesterday. Quite the mess...not on the magnitude of what Hurricane Wilma did to Florida, and Wilma was nothing compared to the destruction wrought by Katrina on my friends and family (yes, God help me, I still think of them as family) in Southern Mississippi, but inconvenience is still inconvenience and the old "count your blessings" trick doesn't work very well with our self-involved culture.
One interesting sidelight of the storm seems to be that my WiFi has not worked right since them, rendering blogging difficult. Count YOUR blessings, you don't have to listen to my self-involved rambings as much.
Homework hint for the week? Do a report on the rise of Podcasting. Talk about the origins of it in the iPod subculture, bring in a recording to play. I would suggest one of the samples from my own Radio City of Legends, launching on Monday/Tuesday...but samples are avaialble through various links on this blog. Talk about how Podcasting is adding another dimension to the Digital Renaissance.
If you need a visual, I'll be posting the dead air version of my podcasting page this weekend, and if you email me, looking for the live version of it, I might give you the top secret location where I am hiding the real thing.
Thinking about re-integrating socially...E.J. (when I listen to him) suggests a ritualized plan where I go out on at least one date a week. Interesting notion, never tried something like that. Having usually gone from one intense, fire-in-the-sky relationship to another, the notion of casual dating is fairly new (I've tried it once or twice, with limited success...)
We shall see. I do need a date for Peri's wedding next fall.
"The existence of a single atheist does not disprove the existence of God."
The poet said that in an interview, once, and aside from perhaps his "Horatius died a suicide, in some philosophies" it is undoubtably his best known quote, despite the beautifully ironic "A quote is but a tattoo on the tongue."
I see now, having read his recent dispatches, how low he has fallen in giving up so much for so many that there is little left of him. Don't get me wrong, there is more virtue in the quick beneath his left pinky toe cuticle than in many entire people, but even so, he is brought low. He paid a terrible price to leave his first marriage. I wouldn't have given so much away (even his ex-wife's lawyer told him he "gave the farm away").
What he didn't lose to his first marriage was ripped from him when he moved to the othe side of North America, where he found a semblance of himself. Then he gave that away, serving penance for his guilt by taking on project after project of women who were near death or madness, sacrificing his health, his sanity and his feeble fortunes that remained to try and accomplish some good.
And then he moved from coast to coast, first back to the East Coast to try and be with his children again, then back to the West Coat to placate his second wife, then down to the Gulf Coast to try and please her further, each time moving further and further away from himself to try and find himself and some sense of redemption.
Now, back to West Virginia, to hide. A smallgod in a land where agnostics rule, where ignorance is celebrated, elevated, consecrated as evidence of virtues that passed for ignorance generations ago.
There are good people there, he speaks of them. But there is no traction there for him, no wall to press his back to like in Venice Beach, no school of followers and admirers and readers to feed the failing flames of his couer rage.
It is time for him to move on.
I say this, not because there is anything I need from him, what little is left to him he needs in order to survive long enough to keep hope in his frame. An acquaintance of his recently told him that the one thing he lacked was an empathy with fear, for he had never really known it. I don't know if that is true. But he knows obligation; to himself, to others he loves, to others he does not even know. A lover once told him he didn't love her. He told her he'd take a bullet for her. She parried that he would do that for any stranger on the street and that to prove his love to her he'd have to foreswear that.
And that was the end of his second marriage. It's true. You can silence the truth, bury the proof, but the truth endures, the proof endures, like fossils, waiting for the curious to seek them out and find the world is more than a few centuries old. And that slander and deceit are only blunt instruments of pain, not instruments of change.
He needs to get off his ass and back into the fight. We need him to get off his ass and back into the fight.
You listening?
Most of the shows and tidbits I'm having in the Radio City of Legends podcasting site are pretty straightforward, unadorned...but once in a while I like to get creative...
I had fun with this one...a poem often overlooked because, due to an editing error, it did not appear in the index to "from an unexpected quarter"
In the Garden (mp3)
and thanks to Archive.org for hosting it...if you want download or listen to it in other formats, feel free to check it out at
William F. DeVault: In the Garden
If you're noticing a slow down in my posting habits...blame whatever interference is happening that is disconnecting my WiFi from the internet on a regular basis...it gets frustrating to write a post, just to be unable to post it, and I used up my frustration cells over the last decade or so. (Actually, I am probably more patient than ever...that just sounds cool.)
Did some major prep for the podcasting that launches Monday, even did some side work on the new book. Busy, busy boy.
Tonight is the Mohawk Bowl (Morgantown High's Mohigans (no, that's not a typo, that's how they spell "Mohican" to emphasize "Morgantown High") play the University High Hawks at Milan Puskar Stadium (the home of the West Virginia University Mountaineers). As the crosstown rivals, it always generates buzz...all of my siblings, and I, attended Morgantown High...both of my parents went to University High...so...er...somebody win, okay?
I am enjoying the exchange of opinions with some of you in the comments to the blog. Some good points are being made. And not just by me. Yes, on at least two objective scales I can think of, Wal-Mart is more morally bankrupt that Girls Gone Wild. Of course, on a few others, the reverse is true.
Gotta go...I'll let E.J. know he needs to be taking up some slack before the readership dozes off.
I've been spending my spare time prepping the Podcasts, so I know I've become the hermit (again). It reminds me of those first few months in Venice Beach, when I was busy getting my feet under me after moving across the country, away from friends nd family, and still trying to set right my relationship with the Panther.
This time, not quite as jarring, but still a time of focus and purpose. It feels good...but at times like this I tend to neglect my health and other people. Something I need to look out for, lest I end up actually hampering myself in the long run.
I'm on track for the debut on Tuesday/Monday (as a nod to my international readers, I am keying the podcasts off of GMT instead of the USA-centric Eastern Standard Time)...I hope you all find some pleasure in it all.
I see the Girls Gone Wild bus was in Morgantown these last few days. Don't know if they got any material (knowing them, if they didn't find something, they manufactured it). I did not see local media mentions of it (of course I don't assiduously read everything local as I did in Los Angeles, I can only stomache so many 60-column-inch stories on a local car dealer's hobby of putting things on top of other things) but figure the local community was less than excited to see them...this is the Eastern edge of the Bible Belt, you know...I'm considered twitchy by some locals for writing poetry, so guys who get college girls drunk to video tape them stripping and having sex have to at least be ranked somewhere less approvedly.
My view on them is simple, their advertisements are problematic on television, making it awkward for parents to let their kids watch late night or early morning television. The concept behind the videos is mildly disturbing, get drunk or exhibitionism-disposed girls to sign releases, then video them acting up...my issue with this is the same as it is with Hugh Hefner...he lives in a mansion, I don't see many of the girls (who are the real reason people buy the magazine in Hef's case and the videos for GGW) living in mansions. It's pimping...some guys making money off of stuff that, for the most part, exploits young women who are desperate for some attention and have been convinced that out of the thousand who have come before them, they will be the one who gets "discovered".
Of course, lots of guys will argue that, since they are old enough to know better, the women are not to be concerned for. I wonder what kind of treatment girls who appear in these videos get from co-workers, classmates, employers and family when the videos surface?
Where is the chivalry? I never considered "they should know better" or "they're old enough" or "she had it coming" to be ethical pillars. But as long as it pays for your limo, your bus, your plane or your fountain, most will manufacture a defense for exploitation when the truth is this: it makes money. This would be like trauma surgeons arguing that since crash helmets reduce the amount of money they make on accident victims, they should not be required...the old "screw you I'm making money" philosophy.
I understand that in the aftermath of the surprise snows in Northern West Virginia, the poet has electrical and computer problems...so his blogging is temporarily curtailed, as well as his aggravating me with various and sundry emails asking for this and that and that and this.
Free! Free at Last! Now I know how a divorce feels...hmmm, not as good as Whip-n-Chill, but it does have a very nice flavor.
The work for the podcast center at Radio City of Legends goes on night and day...remember the scene from "The Adventures of Baron Munchausen" in Hephaestus' lair? Similar. Dirt, swarthy dwarves, one giant heathen god, and Uma Thurman in a floor length gown...well, okay, not Uma...but a guy can dream.
You'll get a kick out of his perverse readin of "Goblins in My Attic" and "Ritornelle for Silence" takes on a madness all its own...
And he shows he can beat with the best of them on "First Date Blues"...now I know what he was doing hanging with all the Los Angeles Scene club poets a few years ago...stealing their style.
All in all, it is an impressive feast. Launching next week, be ready.
I understand he is tapping not only other poets to do their work, but also friends and acquaintances (including at least one of the Muses!) to read some works...
Actually, that sounds like a rumour...I KNOW he has done these things.
It's 36 degrees here...cold. Not North Dakota in February cold, but cold. Add to that a persistent drizzle and it is just unpleasant.
Still delighted I got such a good weekend with my boys.
Heard from a few more contributors for the forthcoming launch of the 'pod. Very exciting now.
Someone dropped me the old "dinner party" question...you are having a dinner party and whoever you ask will attend. Who would you want to have there?
Actually, if you over-analyze things as I do...tough question...but I'll do a kneejerk reaction...
Bill and Hillary Clinton. Whether she chooses to run in 2008 (and wins) they are still two very impressive people I would love to have a conversation with sometime.
8 to go.
Going to have to make this boy/girl to keep the gender balance...which means I get to pick a date...that gets complicated...I'll piss off someone no matter whom I pick.
Okay...8 guest (and a date) to go.
My friend Lenny Berg, and his wife, Karen...he's an actor, she's a schoolteacher, and they are bright and unremittingly decent. I would love to have them there.
My daughter, Peri, and her fiance, Brian. No explanation needed.
Okay, 4 guests to go...don't make a mistake...
Aaron Sorkin, writer for "The West Wing"...he has a gift for dialogue I've rarely seen and an insight into the political mind. Whether or not you like politics, you have to accept the fact that the political minset controls so many elements of our lives.
Chuck Palahniuk, who wrote "Fight Club"...just to get inside that brain. What a genius.
Dame Judi Dench. The intellect behind those eyes. The talent. And the stories I bet she'd have.
Debrorah Atherton, the lady who wrote the lyrics for the Mary Shelley Opera. It has been years since I last saw her and I have great and grave respect for her talents.
Now, for a date...I could go with the obvious and choose some Hollywood glamour queen, but that's too easy (and, usually, so are they...<---best Groucho Marx impression) But it would have to be someone I know, someone I know could run with the bulls, think quickly and fill in the gaps of the conversation, all the while able to make me feel like I deserved to be in such august company...
hmmm...
My first wife, Jan, is quite bright...but she has gone on record as comparing me with the Anti-Christ, so maybe that would be too risky a proposition. My second wife, Ann...no. Beautiful and bright, but not a heavy-hitter and a little to prone to cave under pressure. Besides...I'd have to keep my eye on her rather than enjoy the evening.
As long as the party was well-removed from public eye, I'd choose Brigit, my fiery totem muse from just before my second marriage. She's quick on her feet, intellectually, undeniably attractive and I know she can take care of herself...
But, since it woud be undoubtably a public thing...I'll get back to you, I have time...the Clinton's haven't RSVP'd yet.
And, you should see the list of those I'd want to invite, but with only 11 seats and my daughter and son-in-law, as well as my friend and his wife, taking up 36% of the furniture - people like Robin Williams, Barbara Boxer, Nelson Mandela, Jon Stewart, Angela Bassett and several old friends I wouldn't name here without their permission, they just have to wait for a polite decline to get in.
Hey, you have to draw the line someplace.
Spent an exciting and relaxing weekend with friends and my boys...played laser tag at LaserZone with Elrric and Dante...out of 31 players, we all placed in the top five...Elric was #2 and I was #3 (not bad for an oldie!) I helped them install Nanosaur Extreme on their computer (my old iMac) and the ex and I discussed my daughter's upcoming wedding. Found out Elric has been doing great in school and that Dante, who always does great in school, is working hard with his tuba.
Staying with Anastacia and Tony for the weekend, I got looped into help Anastacia carve up five jack-o-lanterns.
It was weird being so out of touch...my phone was on roam so I didn't make any calls. I didn't get a chance to log on...so I was pretty much isolated. But I got to spend face to face time with some of the most special people in the world (as far as I am concerned)...anyone want to begrudge me that? Bite me.
Now to press foot to pedal to metal and get this podcasting hub up and running. Prayers welcome.
Last night, about 8 pm, my new Mac Mini made a ::POP:: noise and died.
Having just gone through the crappiest customer service I have ever encountered, with US Cellular (there are collection agencies that treat you with more respect), I was not optimistic as I dialed the Apple Care number. And, to be honest, the heavily accented voice on the other end of the line, once i maneuvered the phone prompts, did not encourage me...one of the prejudices I have that I am aware of is that an accent automatically makes me assume the person I am dealing with is a few IQ points lower than someone who speaks in a crisp MIdwestern or East Coast accent.
But, give credit where credit was due, despite the limitations of trying to work the cables and buttons I had to work with while juggling my (US Cellular) cell phone, we had my system up and running in just under 24 minutes.
Phew. I repeat, phew. Thanks guys.
Note to "Cami"...I didn't say you couldn't do a school report on erotic poetry from my site or books, I just advised that some teachers maynot be excited about it (or rather, might be, then get extremely reactive and take that out on your grade). Also, expect some of your classmates to acknolwegde your interest in eroticism, I have played Cyrano to enough lovers to know that sixteen lines of poetry can do wonders for a sluggish start towards the boudoir.
Just don't tell me about it. There's a strange dichotomy within me, almost a jealousy, when I hear of people using my works in seductions that I am not a part of. I am, at last doctor's visit, still human. Despite the rumours.
If you're a student looking to get something together quick this weekend, so as to meet a critical deadline for an English or Lit class, homework help is on the way.
Okay, it's not me writing your paper for you, give me a break...but I do have some good suggestions, suggestions given to me by students who have used my works in school projects:
A quick and dirty bio on an American author of the last century? Piece of cake...go to the media page at www.cityoflegends.com and lift what you need. There's also a good bit about me in the wikipedia.
There's also a few decent quotes from me at www.brainyquote.com.
Also, note, if the topic is "famous West Virginians", "the digital renaissance" or "guys with two or more divorces" I'm eligible.
Need to just bring in a poem for class? There's hundreds at the City of Legends...not just mine, but predominantly so...feel free to use what you need, as long as it is attributed - you don't claim you wrote it! That's plagiarism...and if your teacher is one of those closet fans of mine and catches you..."F" city...
Want a poem or two that are easy to analyze? If the poem isn't of a structure form like sonnet or villanelle, most of mine are "projective" poems. Watch, though, as the teacher may want to hear about my alliteration, I tend to do a lot of that...you know, use words in close proximity that open with the same sounds... Also, pay attention to my theological and mythological allusions...I am particularly fond of Greek over Roman deity names, but lean into the Norse myths more.
Key Christian allusions I employ? References to Damascus, where Saul of Tarsus was confronted by God and became a Christian (in my hands it signifies a change in a person's romantic life on a major scale) or a lot of reliance on Gethsemane (where Jesus had his last moments of doubt) and Golgotha ("The Place of the Skull"), where He was crucified.
Stay away from "City of Angels" - it mentions both condoms and blowjobs...a lot of teachers don't have a sense of humour about that (also, note I tend to favour the British spellings of words like flavour, favour, colour and humour...and affectation of mine as I tend to favour a richer enunciation). And if you MUST do "Arachne and red Lace" note I do not and never have done drugs...it is about a woman.
Some good poems to work from that are easy to analyze:
>>The Unicorns (innocence and desire)
>>My Life
>>Judgement
>>Horizon (have all the fun you want with the identities of the symbols...I haven't figured them out yet myself)
>>goblins in my attic (a fun read-aloud work about creative impulses)
>>TRIUMPH (fun to analyze, just note the progression in the first lines of each stanza. but, this is a tough one to read aloud)
>>Sonnet: The Well of Life is Love Without Fear
>>Villanelle: The Poisoned Pen (a caution about how words are often used to justify actions)
>>We Owe Debt to Memory (point out it is a warning to potential muses in the aftermath of his second wifes infidelitites)
If you're doing an in depth analysis...note I do not do sestinas, haiku or cinquains, and I have a tendency to go to hexameter instead of pentameter in my sonnets, with a reach to the anapest meter (look it up) instead of the iambic and trochaic measures.
There! Hopefully I've given you some ideas to get you out of your rut, off your butt, and done with the assignment you've been sandbagging for the last two weeks. Let me know how it turns out and I'll be happy to consider gifting your school library with a book or two and maybe even swinging by on my tour next year.
No need to thank me...but if you have a sister...
I have written erotic poetry. More than once. I have the emails (and pictures) sent by fans to prove it (eroticism is in the mind of the beholder...there's a classic old sketch on SNL of Patrick Stewart running an erotic bakery where all the items features icing images of a woman urinating). The whole pont was, we are all turned on by different things...
There are some works on my site at www.cityoflegends.com and in my books that certainly qualify as erotic. Of course, some people might be offended by "The Penetrating Rose" and others won't...but those same people who found nothing sinister (or at least nothing on the par with that classic of erotic literature "The Song of Solomon" in the Holy Bible) in "The Penetrating Rose" might take exception with "Possession" or "Wine" or even one poem I wrote once for an acquaintance who was multi-lingual in which I used the word "tongue" (not the physical sense, but the sense of a foreign language...) and one guy decided I was making a double entendre I( wasn't, I was praising her facility with languages, which I lack...)
So, now I am faced with the problem of the podcasting at Radio City of Legends. Do I do an oral interp of some of the erotic works and accept the fact that somewhere, somehow, someone who considers literature that uses the word "kiss" is more dangerous to the world than hunger, pestilence, drugs, pollution, global warming, war or famine might decide to bash me? Especially after they catch their fifteen year old listening to my works (remember, I have been banned from some venues and schools before, which is silly as my work lacks 1/1000th the open sexuality of three scenes in the book "The Godfather"...)
So, an open invite for comments, what do you think?
Steamed is a good word for my mood. I was writing a lengthy post this morning, on the topic of the Totem Muses in my works, when I opened an extra window to get information, a quote if you will, from Jules Feiffer's works...
Not finding exactly what I wanted through Google, I decided to try the old tried and true method of using the author's name as a site name and seeing what was to be found...
Well, I tried "www.feiffer.com" and was rewarded with one of those bait-and-switch crapfests from www.seeq.com that floods your screen with pop-up boxes (does anyone actually use that page for anything or do they just lie about their user stats to get gullible merchants to sponsor their insta-spam pollution of the web?)
I finally, in frustration, closed out Safari...forgetting I had a yet-unsaved Russian novel of an entry...which I did lose.
So, to sum it up:
Insta-spam sites like seeq.com - bad.
T0tem muses...well, since middlemen merchant pimps are more important in this world than anything to do with music, art, literature or the human condition (the richest men in the world are not inventors or artists, they are middlemen - merchants in the global flea market - those who have a combination of good fortune, a seller's amorality (I've sold before, the pressure to lie is immense...I have yet to meet an honest salesman...) and greed) my observations can wait.
But mostly it was an analysis of the evolution of the muses and why I have been extremely unfair, expecting a level of intellect, spirituality and beauty that is unlikely to be found in one person...and therefore imposing a perfected or exagerrated view on real life people who then are crushed by their own praises. Janet Innes was right, the redemption I offer through my works is enticing, but in the end they feel the pressure and collapse under it and resent me, even if I have done more for them than anyone else in their life...at least those who have harmed them or held them back did not hold out the hope of even greater things.
It's more elegant in the long form...I'll try to find the patience to re-generate it later.
In the meantime...don't forget to swing by www.archive.org...try out the WayBack Machine and even seek out my sample readings from Radio City of Legends (try "DeVault" as a search argument...)
And, thanks to those of you who took the bait...the books are in the mail, yes, I re-attached the websites for Mari Laureano, Erin Kelly-Moen and Jade Hernandez to the City of Legends. I figured the place needed some prettying up. Now, if the Mad Gypsy will cooperate, I'll set her old wing up, as well....
I've decided to do one or two more "single serving" poems before the launch of the Podcast center now officially known as "Radio City of Legends" as well as a full-length reading of "The Morgantown Suite Poems"...
I am still working to herd the cats that will be our regular contributors while also working on designing a monthly audio literary magazine called "from out of the city"...we'll be looking for talent to submit readings for a one-hour monthly show that will showcase the readings and be available for casual browsers and downloads.
Yeah, biting off another project...filling the hollow times with work, work, work...
Random notes:
Still a little whizzed that Arts Monongahela hasn't done anything with "The Morgantown Suite Poems"...as they aren't doing anything to promote it, they aren't making any money off it, so I guess they're the ones losing out...makes no sense to me.
Haven't seen a movie in months...going through celluloid withdrawal...I used to enjoy going alone when I lived in Venice Beach, taking advantage of the four theatres on the Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica (more screen in a three block area than in the entire Greater Morgantown area). Sigh. More fond memories of California.
Showed a friend my early cut of my manuscript for "War Stories" a collection of my experiences working for some major consulting and technology firms (anecdotes...about colourful characters and strange events...the moral ambiguity of corporations, etc)...I've got tales from my years with Computer Sciences Corporation, Perot Systems, CACI, Globalstar, DMR and GE Capital, as well as some smaller, lesser-known firms...I thought he was going to laugh himself sick over some of the events...all gospel-true, but hard to imagine if you haven't worked in that environment. It's on the slow track for late next year or early 2007. Don't worry, guys, I have changed the names to protect the guilty...although a few lawsuits would be good publicity.
Having friends and family who have undergone gastric bypass, I am disturbed at the recent news stories showing that presented estimates of complications and mortality were one-fifth the actual numbers. Guess doctors and hospitals liked the profit margins on the surgery enough to risk patients' lives. Bastards.
A preview of a "single serving" podcast...a single poetic unit for your listening and downloading pleasure, The Unicorns:
The Unicorns
Interesting little bit of trivia, for those of you who keep track of such things...this poem was written on November 1, 1973.
Hope everyone is strong, well and on the road to wisdom. My thoughts and prayers are with the people of the Deep South, Central America, Cuba and Florida as Hurricane Wilma makes her case for global warming.
Looking forward to watching "Lost" this evening. If I watched just five hours of television a week it would be:
Lost (1 hour)
The West Wing (1 hour)
The Daily Show (4 nights a week at .5 = 2 hours)
Survivor (1 hour)
What? No sitcoms? The sitcom form is dead, for now...regurgitations of the same basic formulae have rendered it a sterile field for entertainment. There will be a re-awakening...but not as it was.
First three persons who email me at williamfdevault@cityoflegends.com and tell me what three changes I made to the website (www.cityoflegends.com) this morning get free autographed copies of "PanthEon".
Good hunting!
A hint: Orchids, Crows and Coffee
(and yes, I made the changes early...pffft! It's my universe and I am regent here.)
Well, they predicted at least one more major storm of this hurricane season, and it looks like "they" were right...Wilma leapt from category 2 to category 5 in a matter of hours, and is steaming for Florida...and of course, there is even a chance it will get to the Gulf of Mexico and do one more encore of "Do You Know What It Means to Miss New Orleans?"
My thoughts and prayers are with those poor people in Fred's wife's path. Not sure this is what they wanted to do in meeting the Flintstones. Yabba Dabba Dooo get out of town.
Making some "minor" changes to the site tonight, the last before the launch of the podcasts in less than two weeks. I'm adding a single serving broadcast of just my poem "The Unicorns" to the previews later today, as well.
Checked my Yahoo Messenger last night and there were a couple of "while you were out" notes from someone I have no recollection of...and I have a raging curiosity. So, I responded...haven't heard back since, but maybe she hasn't got the messages yet. This will drive me nuts (a short trip, to ne sure)...anyone else wanting to connect with me online and make me insane, I tend to avoid AIM (AOL Instant Messenger) as so many people cyber-mug me over there and there is no "invisible" mode, my Yahoo identity is "the_real_wfdv"...it's a long story...
Back to the grind...a poet's work is never done. Still missing Peri, daily.
Getting good response on the sneak preview of the podcasts for Radio City of Legends...
check this morning's blog for the link!
I'll post another podcast show later today or tomorrow...just for the fun of it...
Oh, and I have been recently getting some nibbles from some potential employers or clients...although, despite a "ping" note I sent to one local consultting firm I met with last year, I have heard nothing in response...but someone from there has been nosing around my website and blog...wonder what that means?
I considered several titles for this blog entry:
Pocasting Pearls Before Swine
Popping My Podcasting Cherry
From Out of the City Came: Sound
None of them were exactly what I was looking for
Just completed and fully loaded (then listened to) the first Podcast for Radio City of Legends. The process works, incredibly enough, and I am well pleased (cue the dove).
To listen, until we set up the official site (you know the promo details...November 1st, 1 minute after midnight GMT, blah blah blah) here's a sample. Not a perfect choice, but it gives you a feel for the process and the work, it's a thirteen minute talk and reading of and from the book INVOCATO, in any of several formats. The poems I chose to read as part it were "I rained poetry" and "Damascus: Movement 3"...both very popular works on the coffeehouse circuit:
Radio City of Legends: INVOCATO
And, let me know what you think.
Oh, and the sound quality is lightyears ahead of Audioblogger.
So, to my readers, lovers, and yet-unmet friends, of cyberspace, the world, West Virginia, the students of West Virginia University (WVU) and Morgantown High, my old friends in Los Angeles, Salinas, Bay St. Louis and Sterling, I give you a voice for the 'City in which I truly dwell.
And, as this is INVOCATO, to my unknown goddess.
Got the archive.org stuff working...very exciting. am right now in the final stages of a test run to see what is involved, front to back, with producing and placing a Podcast....
Got a lead on a decent job...in Los Angeles. We'll see what happens with that!
Pros: I love LA. Closer to many old friends. Closer to my daughter. Much better money.
Cons: Further from my boys. My daughter doesn't have anything to do with me, anyway. Cost of living.
Going to see my boys this weekend! Yay!
Wednesday Night, the 19th of October, I'll be making the final pre-podcast tweaks to the City of Legends...tweaks that will include the return of Mari Laureano, Erin Kelly-Moen and Jade Hernandez to the menu.
What more could you ask for?
The Morning Mists Fade and the Path is Made Clear is a poem from my book "from an unexpected quarter"...it seemed apropos right now:
draw tight the cloak of night and wear the moon, eternal,
as an halo, sainthood now sent as a refusal
to take illumination as the word unspoken.
gospel revelation of the cool curve unbroken
by the penetration of shame into the sphere where
all things taken as chance become the untamed night's mare,
ridden to the edge of a world promised to lovers,
sworn as reward for quests mastered within the layers
laid down so that buried pride may yet rise, triumphant,
and lay the road to the city, perfect and ancient.
William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.
I'm aggravated.
I've been trying to synch up my OurMedia.org account with my Internet Archive account so I can set up the storage for the podcasts...individually, they work fine, and I've filed the same ID and password with both...but whenever I try to connect directly with the archive, I get an error message. When I try to connect through OurMedia to the archive, I get an error message, both insisting that I have my login wrong. I've four or five times used their "forgotten password?" link to send myself my password, but nothing ever arrives in my email.
arggggh.
If anyone else has encountered these problems, let me know, give me a clue, throw me a bone...the archive.org website does not provide, per se, a means of help, except forums, which can be a difficult sift.
On the other hand, it was fascinating to go back in time through dozens of manifestations of the City of Legends, all the way back to 1999, and see how the site has evolved. Check out the visual history of your favorite site at www.archive.org, then use the WayBack Machine.
As much as I believe in free speech, I also know that reality has me over a barrel.
So, on advice, I did willfully remove a posting from a few days ago. If you are a regular reader, you know the one.
I still believe what I said, and believe it is every man, woman and child's right to speak their mind and beliefs. But I also know that you must be willing to accept the repercussions for speaking your mind, and I am unwilling to accept the consequences, at this time, of those truths.
Yes, I wimped out.
I cancelled a domain today, the hosting as well. Why?
Well, don't worry...it wasn't Cityoflegends.com...I'll probably die before that one falls off the planet. It was another (I won't give it out, as I don't want people running over there...)
About a year ago, in preparation for a former lover's book coming out...a book I had ghost written for her (she's a sweet girl but has no literary background. don't ask how many other things I'd "ghosted" for her) I had procured her a website with the book's title, set up the website, and set up the hosting.
It wasn't a big deal.
Then, she dropped out of my life. A willful drop out, leaving me holding the bag so to speak...and after a few months I took down the webpage, but kept the domain and hosting, so I could set it back up for her or trasnfer it to her if she ever asked. But, for whatever reasons, she never requested it. Maybe she decided not to go forward with the book.
It was a sad moment, filling out the paperwork. But, it ended what I believe to be my last direct financial tie to her...and I suppose that is a good thing.
Nonetheless, I mourned it.
There still sits one empty throne in the Sapphire Place in the City of Legends. I wonder how long it will sit thus, and who will dare to wear the crown?
One thing is a certainty...my days as a ghost writer are over. (Although there are times I regret not taking more seriously Robert Davi's invitation to help him write his autobiography...he's an interesting fellow...Bob, call me!)
Shameless.
I find it amusing and ironic (not to mention perversely hypocritical) that the label that is applied to anyone who uses big words or references that require more than a grade school education, in literature, is tarred with a label that is in and of itself, a three-dollar word: obscurantist.
I ran across the word itself not so long ago when an ezine editor, whose publication in the past has featured my works prominently and glowingly (of course, that was when I was sleeping with the publisher, so maybe I am better in bed than on paper?) referred to me as such. I had to look the word up.
Her gripe was with the use of two words in "Villanelle: The Poisoned Pen": troubadour and novice. She said that these words placed the work outside of the understanding of readers and made it "obscure" in meaning. WTF? Troubadour? A poetry editor having issue with the use of that word?
I was delighted. Really! In a world where there are high schools that ban Shakespeare for being over the heads of their students, there are few things you can accuse me of more delightful of than being well-read and knowing how to spell (typing? that's another matter, altogether). So I wrote this tribute to the mentality. No insult to "Star Trek", please...I adore both the original and The Next Generation, with occasional fondness for later incarnations...they are just a good cultural reference point.
The Obscurantist Reflects
I do not hide
what is inside
my tv set
from you.
My cable's gone
and so I yawn
and write these words
for you.
I'm sorry you
would not see through
words I choose
(polysyllabic).
So I'll keep it short
and with a grunt and a snort,
select metaphors
from Star Trek.
William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.
And here's the original piece that got her so riled:
Villanelle: The Poisoned Pen
The troubador, he knows the truth, unsuspected and unspoken,
that tears the soul of every man whose heart and mind lay broken:
Dreamers die, for a poet's lie, at peace with their transgressions.
The miller and the blacksmith are at peace with their professions,
the priest will carry on his trade and take the strange confessions.
The troubador, he knows the truth, unsuspected and unspoken.
The sentry knows to challenge foes when in the night he's woken
from the disturbing thought born from what is in the barrels oaken:
Dreamers die, for a poet's lie, at peace with their transgressions.
The mistress and the novice seek each her own perfections.
The baker fires his ovens to be lost in his confections.
The troubador, he knows the truth, unsuspected and unspoken.
Warriors die for causes both obscured and held as the slogan
of their leaders, prayers in the shadows of Holy vows now broken.
Dreamers die, for a poet's lie, at peace with their transgressions.
Take these words as a sign of faith and as my memory's token,
the realization stands apart, against all false impressions.
The troubador, he knows the truth, unsuspected and unspoken:
Dreamers die, for a poet's lie, at peace with their transgressions.
William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.
Not my best villanelle...but obscure? To quote the great Joe Gideon "riiiiiiiight..."
By the way, WVU beat Louisville.
Whoo! (said with ironic boredom)...
Sorry, guys, I like to see WVU do well...but there are too many real things to be working on in this world without expending the amount of energy and capital we spend on gladitorial distractions.
In the time it took WVU to pull it out in triple overtime, on average, there are 11 murders in the United States and 50 forcible rapes. 60 people are infected with AIDS. 5 die in traffic accidents, 2 or three of those are alcohol related. And there are over 400 abortions, while worldwide 6,000 children starved to death.
In the time it took the game to be played out.
In the time it took the people in the stands, not to get to and from the game, but to sit through it. In the time it took ABC to telecast it. In the time the sponsors underwrote for the broadcast.
Glad we have our priorities straight.
I repeat: Whoo!
In The Sphere of Venus I Learned War
I have not need of sword or shield
to make you fall, to make you yield.
Just look into my dark'ning eyes
and see the shadow there that lies.
For I have seen the heavens cracked
to bleed the hearts of those attacked
by memory, the curse of soul,
surrendered to the whims' control.
I can heal, for I can feel
the jagged edges I must seal,
but you must dare to now reveal
the truth beneath the scars I peel.
Look you now, beneath my skin,
stretched taut and hot by guilty sin,
and yet I've yet to drop my quest
while pulses life within my chest.
I charge you now to bring your cup
and 'llow me now to drink it up -
your essence, presence, and your fate,
that I may merge with your estate.
Or if you lack the will to rise,
then do not tempt me with disguise,
for in my time I have grown wise
from facing fickle lovers' lies.
Please come a while and do remain
I've tools and jewels to soothe your pain,
they still are locked within my lair
for heart of gold - and not just hair.
Match me with each candored word
that I might find what was obscured,
a lover who has earned her right
to stand with me, against the night.
And we shall weave a curv'd sphere
that slips by sorrow, pain and fear -
a single thing, as we draw near,
that shows us life, in colours clear.
William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.
One of my favourite authors of all time is C.S. Lewis, author of "The Screwtape Letters" and The Chronicles of Narnia...but there is a special place in my heart for his space trilogy: "Out of the Silent Planet", "Perelandra" and "That Hideous Strength".
I named my daughter for the second book, and my son Elric carries the name of the trilogy's protagonist (based on Lewis' good friend JRR Tolkien), Ransom, as his middle name.
In a key passage in the third book, Ransom faces Merlin Ambrosius, the wizard-warrior of Arthurian legend, risen from his mystical sleep to aid in a battle against an evil technocratic organization fronting for Satan himself. Merlin tests Ransom's credentials with three questions...questions which only an ever diminshing few would know the answer to (and, in light of modern society, an incredible foreshadowing of our culture)...I paraphrase Merlin's final question:
"Who shall be pen-dragon when Lurga descends his sphere? In what sphere did he learn war?"
and Ransom's response begins:
"In the sphere of Venus I learned war..."
Lurga is the name for the world-spirit of the planet Jupiter in the books, and the world spirits of all the "good" worlds were to descend to give Merlin the final powers he would need for the battle. The "sphere of Venus" refers to the second book, in which Ransom is physically carried to Perelandra (Venus) to teach the female aspect of that world's spirit how to confront evil, and to, he himself, face off with an old friend who has been possessed with the spirit of the devil. (It would make a great movie, but since nearly all the characters are nude throughout most of the book, problematic to film.)
I have always though of myself as having "learned war" in the "sphere of Venus". No, never been there...but most of the conflicts I have been in derive from love, from loving or being loved.
This poem is about moving on, facing the scars and trophies of battles past, of dealing with the fact that I am, still, fighting for love.
And yes, stanza seven is about who you think it is about. Stanza six is about several people.
Worked on the Podcast page for the City of Legends last night...very exciting stuff...
I ran across this work amongst the several I have posted at Author's Den.
It is dark, dealing with those moments of despair when the isolation of the healing process gets to me. See if you can spot who is who in the tableau...
No Angel Calls
I see you best in darkness,
when the lights do not distract,
the distance not impediment,
I accept you as a fact.
A memory yet to be fulfilled
in the promise of the hours and the days.
The years have broken bread enough,
I have wandered foolish ways.
The silence caught as melody,
and lies refract my faith.
The banshee and the whispered wisp
played herald to the wraith.
Menagerie and mystery,
lycanthropic philantrophies,
bloodied hands in silver bands -
shat shackles in djinn's dark disease.
No angel calls, no comet falls,
to light the night with omened kiss.
Come for me, pale perfidy,
we shall see if your arrows miss.
William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.
Had a good session with Tag yesterday evening, we discussed many things, particularly the Podcasting. He's revving up for it. This is good, as he brings a different flavour to the mix: His blue-collar, concrete imagery appeals to an entirely different audience than I do, or Mari Laureano does, or Dave Taub does. Diversity in any artistic venture is a good thing.
He asked about sponsorship...how will the "station" make money.
a) It doesn't need to if all we use is elbow grease, and
b) it is its own sponsor. in theory, every program is, in its own way, an advertisement, for us, for our books, for our websites, fr our personal appearances. I asked him if he's ever seen a commercial during an infomercial. He got it. (of course, if anyone wants to sponsor broadcasts, I won't complain...I can give them some inserts in the shows and some consideration on the page)
Got to see Chilton's family yesterday, as they passed through on their way to scatter his ashes. I hadn't seen Jennifer in a while. I'd never met Chris, before. Jesse, the baby of the family) is always a good conversation - he's Senior Legislative Assistant for Congressman Jim McDermott, the Democratic Representative (as in House of Representatives) of Seattle, Washington. Makes for fun, as my Mom is just to the right of Pat Buchanan and loves to discuss (if that's the word for it) politics.
I have a curious weekend ahead of me...which is just fine, by my measurements
With "Poetry Now" folding, I am considering running Dave Taub's article about me on my site or blog, just because I like it...
I would like to
apologize
for the thoughts I lingered on
when you crossed the room.
for we have not met
as of yet
and I had no right to violate
your thin fabric armor, in thought.
I was completely
out of line
to conjour your warm skin
pressed against me in earnest surrender.
it was so wrong,
very wrong,
of me to presume to guess the fragrance
that would rise to engulf me as you kiss me.
but since now
I have that
out of the way, I'd like to see
just how accurate my imagination is.
William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.
I need to take my own advice and purify myself in catharsis.
Any one here recall my poem "Heal Swft" I wrote to a protege (Jade) who was into self-mutilation, encouraging her to get involved in more wholesome (and literary) release?
Heal Swift
heal swift the aching wound
that keeps you far from me.
leave now the temples, ruined,
that once held perfidy.
grow strong and find your way
along life's pleasant roads.
in night or brightest day
stride tall with lightest loads.
be certain of your worth.
be fair to all you meet.
greet failure with rebirth.
greet folly with retreat.
place heart to ink to page
and speak with honest sound.
pour out the poisoned rage
and leave it on the ground.
William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.
I hate having to make decisions about what writings to feature first when we go "on the air" on Novemeber 1.
I hate the sound of my own voice...doesn't everyone?
There are some works, like "I should have been immortal", that I can think of a dozen different ways to read, each carrying their own meaning. Which one to use? Why?
Did I mention that during the recording sessions with Alan I stumbled a couple of times? In "Love Gods of a Forgotten Religion" I mispronounced "tableau" at "tab-loo" which I know better than...and in "Cithara song, stummed lightly as the sun leaps the horizon" I fumbled the word "arrogant"in the line "barefoot and arrogant, like a poet" so it comes out sounding like a cross between "ignorant" and "arrogant"...Freudian slip, anyone?
Counting down...
What a week, full of the typical highs and lows:
"Poetry Now!" announced it was folding, just before they ran the wonderful article about me that Dave Taub had just prepped. Oy!
US Cellular pulled their "warranty was voided as there is moisture in Earth's atmosphere" BS...I now have to buy a new phone from them or go without a cell...the upside is I have been approached about being part of a class action lawsuit...seems I am not the first person they pulled this nice profit-making gouge on.
Finally got to speak with someone who had actually spoken to my ex, Ann, since Hurricane Katrina. They wanted to remind me that Ann and I had accepted some financial assistance when we made the "what were we thinking?" move to Mississippi and she'd appreciate it back now. To her budget, and I respect this, it doesn't matter the money was to move us away from our decent jobs to stay with Ann's lonely mother, or that some was to pay Ann's car payments...a car I do not and never had any share of (I actually advised her not to acquire the $550.00 a month debt...) But I feel bad for others who may have been taken advantage of, so I will continue to try and pay back everyone who was plundered. Sigh.
Still have a job...not bad considering where I am, the state of the economy and the randomness of the universe...but they've eliminated overtime. Guess it is time to move on, eh? I have begun a major job search in three key markets...but will listen to reason...money is money and the creditors don't care where I am living.
The "ghost tours" over Halloween, that the Visitors Bureau had approached me about conducting, never materialized, the gas price increases caused such a cutback in adult class enrollment that all my classes I was teaching this semester at M-Tech were cancelled and the concert/website/DVD project I have been trying to support getting off the ground for nearly a year now is nowhere closer to growing green wings. Time to dump debris, eh?
Speaking of debris, I can only assume my hostage personal effects did not make it through the storms in Mississippi. But, considering the fact that they all lost more than was taken from me, I have to just nod. Still pissed about the total news blackout, but that's not a statement of my character.
Plus side? Looks like I'm going to have my best year, ever, as a writer...and with the Podcasts lifting off...the sky is the limit. I promised a lot of people a lot of things I need to see through in the coming months...and I'll work towards them. And, I just had my first physical in half a decade and I passed with flying colours.
I will keep the promise I made almost a decade ago...you'll hear my bones splinter and crack before you'll see me willingly go to my knees again.
And, make sure to swing by the site for the launch of the 'pod, The Digital Renaissance takes it up a notch.
Good news, Dave Taub is in. :-)
For more information on this illustrious author (and friend), check out his website at www.ukpoet.com
I have just associated myself with the Internet Archive, which means we'll have virtually unlimited storage and bandwidth, which was my biggest concern.
Launch time is now set:
00:00:01 GMT on November 1, 2005
Be there...we are going loud. Place your bets on what we launch with. I know. ;-)
Poetry Now! the UK based poetry journal, is ceasing production. I just got the word from Dave Taub, the poet and columnist who'd just finished prepping his column for next month, a profile of me (conspiracy! conspiracy!)...
they will be, as a voice for quality and evolution in the world of poetry on the world stage, sorely missed.
On the other hand, I've asked Dave if he'd like to throw his lot in in with the yet-to-be-named podcasting venture I'm firing up. I'm also planning to approach Mari Laureano, Daniel S. McTaggart and Nordette Adams. And, I am looking for others...Teri? ready to rock? I would love to give you your own interpretive reading show....
Ode to a Fallen Publication
(Poetry Now, 1990-2005)
Read. But dead.
I have said little but sad things
over your dog-eared cadaver.
rather than mourn you too long
I will salute you as a fallen friend
and send best wishes that your ashes
never be borne on silent winds.
William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.
Anybody have any good, catchy ideas for our Podcasts? If nothing fresh, what do you think of the brainstormed list below? Be honest now, we want something catchy and fun...
*Amomancy
*From Out of the City (cute, huh?)
*Pod Poetry
*iRadio WFDV
*Radio City of Legends (or maybe City of Legends Radio?)
Yeah, I know it isn't actual radio, but the average schmuck has a hard time getting their brain around new ideas...
In additional to our "webcasting" and "podcasting" we are going to distribute to web radio and real-life radio stations, free at first, we'll worry about making some money out of it later...
E.J. asked me to remind you all of the "THEOCRICIDE" Cover Model Search...we're looking for a woman to be featured on the cover of my next book. Contact him directly at trojanhearse@cityoflegends.com for more details...I'm busy. Contest ends December 1, 2005. We're serious about this search, and it is a great chance for a beginner with the right look to start her resume with something more than webcam underwear sessions or badly-lit newspaper ads for the local discount barbeque supply store.
Heard the base tracks for the Podcasts...great...but I'm not about a single show, sniper rifle shot into the eye of the world...time to get serious.
My goal is to launch a broad array of programs from a Podcasting base...interviews, poetry, analyses of individual works.
We'll be going "live" as soon as I am ready...
for now, I have work to do.
I am still open to suggestion for specific themes and works...
and revving to take off the gloves...
Radio City of Legends is nearing reality...
This piece was originally entitled "passion, play"...but after I wrote a recent piece that I found the title more suitable to, I renamed this one "passion sympoetique" I tend to refer to any work of mine that has three distinct movements as a "sympoetique". It originally was posted to Authors Den where it got a few comments. I hope you enjoy it....
(seduction)
sleep in the comfort of my arms.
bare against my chest.
take an earnest rest
knowing that nothing can touch you
without your desire.
but when the fire is upon you
I will touch you in ways
and corners
and with honest passion
and tender affection
you have not encountered
in your life
in your world
in your flesh,
where I will slide to depths
that have never been touched
in manners you fear
for the opening
of passages to your soul
that you know would
end your world
if I were there for any purpose
other than to express
the very heated dreams
I would not dare
with anyone
but you.
(penetration)
I saw the look in your eyes
as I entered you.
the way made ease
by the long, tender times,
spent touching and exploring,
hands and lips and fingertips,
avatars of consummation.
consummation fulfilled
as your breath upon my chest
quickens
and your hands draw me in
into you to lose
the barriers between
my flesh and your flesh
and the universe,
which recedes into nothing
as your skin burns
as herald to your pleasure,
measured by the tension
in your thighs, wrapped
with ankles locked
about me, that I cannot escape
as if I would, if I could,
for I gave myself over
to this the moment
I met you.
and
and
and
you dance your surrender
beneath me
in articulate delight.
(sustain)
after the awkward
and aching seconds
where the merged souls
separate flesh:
we lay for hours,
soft kisses
on flesh that still burns.
soft hands, exploring
a changed universe.
and words of reassurance
and promises
and questions
and answers
and a gradual return
to the fire
for as long as we dare
sustain the night.
William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.
One of my favourite songs, all time, is Rod Stewart's incredible "Every Picture Tells a Story"
I laughed this evening, listening to it and playing Greek chorus to the lyrics...
It reminded me how empty my life is without a lover...but in a good way, it reminded me of how exciting life can be...I'm back on my feet, like a punchdrunk boxer in the 11th round...behind on points but with more heart than his opponent...swinging an incessant barrage of haymakers...
I was thinking earlier of my poem "Radiant Tigers"...how much fun it is to me, how much it brightens my day and reminds me of so many positive images...
welcome to the land of radiant tigers.
bright eyes like coherent beaming ruby rods
fiercely piercing the fearjungle of life.
pouncing like Lord Byron on a first draft.
poets glide on the slip and slide emotions
whetted and wet with the potions of passion.
sweetmeats met in a feast of least persistence,
an insistence on the order of a random universe.
roadwork with the soda jerk mixology of words
that effervesce with a laugh in the daft draught
of expressions caught caterwauling to glance
off the silvered glass mirrors of albedo'd radiance.
welcome to the land of radiant tigers.
citrus stripes on cocoa black, warm as memory.
cold as calculations in an impatient ledger,
counting found funds, lost time, and three deep breaths.
William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.
Thanks to E.J. for posting the list of works on the current City of Legends site, that was fun to see...I'll trust his numbers. There were some poems he mentioned that I had forgotten I'd included in the site. Wow...senility
I was very pleased at the technical quality of the recording sessions yesterday, and I know it's just my nature to never be 1000000000% satisfied, I'm just restless over the fact that it took us two hours to get a twenty minute segment recorded. Alan, who engineered the whole thing, did reassure me on the logical point that the first session is always going to be fraught with adjustments and working out the way to do things, and that future sessions will go more smoothly.
Add to that my naturally impatient nature, wanting to get the podcast up and flying.
I did do some of the most requested works in this recording, but not all of them...I'll keep the list secret for now.
It looks like "Poetry Now!", the UK-based poetry magazine, is going to run anaother profile of me. They want to cover the years since the last piece they did on me, including my new books, my divorce, my connection to the Hurricane Katrina ravaged Gulf Coast, my comparison of Morgantown's literary scene (and dating scene) to Los Angeles' (you have got to be kidding) and plug upcoming projects, the blog, the site, the podcasts, the books and even both my latest cover model AND my cover model contest.
Hated to see Steelers' QB Big Ben Roethlisberger go down last night. Bully on him for leading the charge that won the game before taking a helmet to the kneee. I hope it is a mild injury and he is back on the field swiftly.
Mood bomb:
Wasn't watching my iTunes playlist as I was working and Primitive Radio Gods' "Standing Outside a Broken Phone Booth..." came on.
This song is the strongest audio link I have to Venice Beach...it was like someone grabbed me by the throat and threw me through a decade into the street at the corner of Lincoln and Venice.
Damn.
I should never have left. The scent of night blooming jasmine. The early morning surfers on the beach. The Santa Ana Winds. Freedom. A first kiss. A wrenching goodbye. My landlady, Bess. The little convenience store with with walk-in humidor. Real friends. The Third Street Promenade.
and I gave it all up for a lie...
I've been asked how many poems are actually ON the City of Legends website.
Hey, I laid the html for it...I know EXACTLY how many poems are on there...there are, er...let me see...one, two, three...
6 am on the beach in Venice
a dark liqueur
a friendly face
a kiss for the chimaera
a life I never lived: a reflection on the stagnation of time
a locked instant in the stream of time
a night of a thousand colours
a sky, wet with tears
a summoned fire
Agent Invocateur
albedo (duet)
alien gods
an apology to my daughter
angels sleep
Arachne and red lace
aureate
aurora flytrap
autumnal memory
awaking to the sounds of distant trumpets
axeman's dance
base sacraments
Beasts of Legend
Black Jasmine/One
blossom
blossoming into the night
Bragi Bleeds
Bragi, awakening in his tomb
brisant revelations
Cassiopeia's Garden: Wildflowers
Charlotte's song
city of angels
clean
close your eyes
confession
confessions to the silence
contemplating the revelation
conversation
copper
couer rage
couplet/passion
crimson dusk
Damascus - Movement 1
Damascus - Movement 2
Damascus - Movement 3
Damascus - Movement 4
Damascus - Movement 5
Damascus - Movement 6
Damascus - Movement 7
Damascus - Movement 8
Damascus - Movement 9
dance of darkness
dance of death
Dance of Defiance
dancing on the beach
danse
descent: a journal
desperate chances
dram
driftwood
driving out the demons with a drum
early morning kiss
ecstasy
empath
Encounters on the Third Street Promenade... (7 poems)
entropy, consumed
epitaph
equinox
even Cinderella gets naked
eyes of stained glass and fire
FAITH
faithless
fantasy
farewell
fifth gear
fingerprints
fireflowers
flechette
flourish
for A, when she doubts herself
for Peri: Sixteen Candles (7 poems)
for the girl with freckles
From Out of the City
from the moment of birth
funeral home
gentle soul
gibbous
glass
glass roses
goblins in my attic
gossamer conspiracies
hammer
heal wounds of moonlit baptism
histories
hold you
horizon
I am
I should have been immortal
I speak her name in softest voice
I will walk these streets again
Icarus
ice angel
idol of Clay
if you let me in
in the arms of the Dragon
in/dig/go
incubus
inspiration
integrity
jasmine and plumeria
jitterbugging to adam ant on an old carpet
judgement
June 14, 1998
lady soul
last dance in valhalla
last night
latticework
laying down the tools of pain
lemons
leper's blood
Let Me Touch You Once Again
Libby was a libertine
linger
memories
memory of a blindman's illusion
miracle
molto vivace
Monday Mourning Poem
monument
More Than Flesh
musing in the shadows of the season
my electric lady
My Life
nemicorn
nevermore my steel
no more summers
nunc dimittis
O, Ship!
On the Last Crusade
once
opportunity
pacing (Dante in surgery)
Pellinore, Watching Across the Room
penance
petition
Phobos and Deimos
poet's lament
Poets
Point of Contact
portal
possession
prayer
pride of authorship
protector
radiant tigers - for George Gordon, Lord Byron
raven
ravenlight
reflection on the razor's edge
release
resplendent
response to glass
Return to the Cliffs
ride with me
ring of truth
romantique
running the keys
sacred smile
sanctuary
Santa Ana Winds
satin scars
Saturday Night at Anastasia's
satyr in love
satyr to the dead
seeds of love
sex cookies
Shards of Light
silence
sliver of light
so
soft as dawn
soft repast
soft smile
sonnet: the well of life is love without fear
sons of soft sin
sparks, like frozen lemons
spreading your wings
starsailor
sugar rush
taking a risk
TEMPEST
terms of surrender
TESTAMENT
The 1st Song of the Amomancer
the 2nd Song of the Amomancer
The 3rd Song of the Amomancer
The 4th Song of the Amomancer
The 5th Song of the Amomancer
the Age of Grace
The Cassiopeia Sympoetique (3 poems)
the common tongue
the curve of parallel lines
The Dance of Decades
the desert cycle (7 poems)
The Draco Sympoetique (3 poems)
The Eighth Selke Cycle (7 poems)
the faceted sphere: 27
the faceted sphere: 28
the faceted sphere: one
the fall
The Fifth Leopard Cycle (7 poems)
The Fifth Selke Cycle (7 poems)
The First Leopard Cycle (7 poems)
The First Selke Cycle (7 poems)
the foot of the crucifix
The Fourth Leopard Cycle (7 poems)
The Fourth Selke Cycle (7 poems)
The Frost of Ill Remembranced Things
the Goldenheart Cycles (49 poems)
the land of silk and money (7 poems)
The Last Crusade
the lingering haste
the measure of the peacock
the moon
The Morgantown Suite: 332 S. High Street
The Morgantown Suite: Danielle
The Morgantown Suite: hollow shells
The Morgantown Suite: Recalling Yesterday
The Morgantown Suite: room 113
The Morgantown Suite: The Spot Where She Died
The Ninth Selke Cycle (7 poems)
The Orion Sympoetique (3 poems)
the pale of your breasts
the Peri at 15 Cycle (7 poems)
the phoenix, colding
the power
the rose petal
The Second Leopard Cycle (7 poems)
The Second Selke Cycle (7 poems)
The Seventh Selke Cycle (7 poems)
The Sixth Selke Cycle (7 poems)
the sorrow of past errors
the sun
The Tenth Selke Cycle (7 poems)
The Third Leopard Cycle (7 poems)
The Third Selke Cycle (7 poems)
the trespass of pale poetics
The Unicorns
The Wind Out of Valhalla
theocricide at Mach10e6
there must be a season
thin skin
threnody for times now past
tidal passions
tiger traps
time considered as a helix of semi-precious stones
to dream
touch
tracery
TRANSCENDENCE
tread softly
TRIUMPH
truth
unborn years
union
Unity
Uriah
virgin's dawn
votive
wallpapers
warrensburg farewell
We Owe Debt to Memory
weaver
while Ann is away
will you be with me tonight?
wine
words upon the death of a friend
wounds from the twin-helixed sword
yesterdays
yesterdays revisited
you pour, I'll drink
...450, 451, 452...
...453 poems, total...not counting special posts int he blog, which is also accessible.
Damn, I need a raise.
Speaking of giving me a raise, don't neglect entering the model search for the cover of his next book...I want to see some spectacular beauty, people. Besides, he's been down of late and a few beautiful women paying him attention might just be the ticket...or not. A poet without a muse is like an empty glass, and far more brittle.
E.J.
Survived the recording session...wow, talk about stress. With an audience, you have the feedback of the crowd and the inspiration you find in their faces...in the studio...not so much.
We settled on one really good show...about 15-20 minutes in duration. We started the first run through and three tracks in I stumbled...on "The Patchwork Skirt of My Love"...so we decided to restart. I shuffled the read order and we had a strong run through of ten works...
It'll be later in the week before I have the final mix...I'll get it out there as soon as possible.
Had an interesting meeting with my friend, Thomas. He always has the most interesteing observations. He had some advice for me: Get out of West Virginia now! I like the subtlety of his approach. And, from the detailed analysis, he's dead on for all the reasons why I should be on the road already...but I have a few things I need to get settled first.
More on this, later.
As you know, for the last several weeks I have been talking about how I am entering the studio today to start the sessions for the podcasting of my works.
I pick up the Dominion Post this morning (Morgantown's only newspaper) and lo and behold...there's a big article in it about the dearth of podcasts from Morgantown.
Irony or sign from God? Maybe both.
(laugh)
Anyway, I'll make sure to include Morgantown as one of the search arguments when I post the podcasts. And, considering the volume of material available to me, if anyone wants to sponsor future 'casts, drop me a line...I'm always willing to accept $$$. Logical sponsors would include bookstores, churches and adult novelty shops.
Had a brief discussion around the breakfast table about politics and religion as it relates to abortion. My Mom, God love her, took the position that no Christian can support abortion. Having read the Bible a few times, I added that no Christian can support war or the death penalty. This did not go over well. (laughing) What can you do?
I have yet to meet someone who can quote, in context, anything in the Bible that attacks abortion...but Jesus himself condemned violence and even disarmed his disciples in the face of imminent threat in the Garden of Gethsemane (turn the other cheek? anyone remember that? I do. Yes, it isn't very pragmatic if your goal is a healthy stock market and a new car, but Christianity is the most demanding of religions. Not because of rituals and rules, but because to follow the path is almost 180 degrees opposite to our natures, which are selfish and violent).
Guess it comes down to whether or not I want to follow the lead of a handful of millionaire TV evangelists in subverting the very Constitution that protects them from taxes, or God. Tough choice, hm? For too long we have been taught that our conscience is the voice of God, which it is not. Then, it is a matter of a simple leap of faith to tell people that their gut instincts are the voice of God (protect the unborn, kill Muslims)...which they aren't. I do not honestly believe that, if I were a woman, I could have an abortion. But, you know, I don't drink, never have, but I don't firebomb distilleries or tell the victims of date rape that it was their own fault if they were drinking.
On that divergent topic, a small vent. There was a local band called the Moonset Quartet that put out CD that was well-reviewed by the student newspaper at West Virginia University, the Daily Athenaeum (who have been very kind to me over the years)...but there was a song on the CD entitled "Night on the Town" about a girl geting date-raped. The DA mentioned that song but referred to it as being about a "one night stand". WTF? Have we become so inured to the notion of date rape in our society, particularly on the collegiate level (I think FX is planning a new competitive relaity series entitled "Date Rape Challenge" where your goal is to sexually assault as many women as possible each week...they guy with the fewest "conquests" goes home, the one with the most, at the end of the series, gets a raging case of herpes, a case of Coors and 5-15 in federal prison, where he can have "one night stands" daily) that we consider it equivalent to consensual sex? As I recall, the reviewer was also a woman, which makes this glaring mistake even more comment worthy.
To quote the great (before he went raving conservative) Dennis Miller, "stop me before I subreference again".
Had a nice chat with my friend Anastacia earlier this evening...she's a really nice person who has the capacity to amuse me, no matter what is going on.
We talked about relationships, and what would/should/could be down the road for me (actually, she called originally to question me about a revelation in my newsletter that had made her curious)...it was very therapeutic.
I also vented about some work related issues...it's funny, I sometimes feel like Neil Patrick Harris' character in "Doogie Howser, M.D." in the one episode where he is challenged by his friend, Vinnie, to try to work at a burger joint. I'm doing a menial job, surrounded by people I'm used to having work for me, making about 12% of my usual salary (thanks for the "robust economy", Mr. President)...and finding it is sometimes challenging to do it.
The worst part is the compromises. Everyone, and I mean everyone, knows how to subvert the QA metrics they use to justify themselves to the client and to get raises...I've been approached, repeatedly, by both peers and supervisors, telling me how to do it...but I'm not really budging on the topic. I'd rather forego an eighty-five cent an hour raise than trade my integrity for it. If they end up letting me go because I don't cheat, then I can live it...it has happened before. Don't ask a Quaker to lie, dummy.
The next three questions I get sent at williamfdevault@cityoflegends.com I will answer here, in the blog, regardless of their content or complexity, to the best of my knowledge and ability. I feel like speaking straight.
I had a dream last night.
A thousand creatures ran about, some of them familiar to me, some strange, even impossible. But all seemed to have purpose...and the music. The music was the same carousel tune I heard in the dream of the three panthers (I got an interesting interpretation of that dream from a Psych grad student out in the Midwest the other day...I wonder if she's single? You know me and psychologists...)
The music sped up, as if heading for a resolution, a climax...the creatures accelerated their frolics...and suddenly I saw the pattern in their motions. I could anticipate their movements...all were following very specific kata...then those creatures of similar movements began to be more obvious to me...the relationship between them was so obvious...and I began to move with them. First one group, then another. There were larger groups, stronger groups, and despite physical similarities and dissimilarities, the movement was the common factor.
I see dreams not as a psychic messenger, but a psychological messenger...when you aren't listening enough to your preconscious, it takes advantage of your sleeping hours to try and spell it out.
I think, instead of going into the recording sessions planning for a half dozen podcast shows, I will focus on moving with the animals of a single pattern at a time...two shows, maximum, tomorrow...themes? a primer of my better-known works and some of the stronger romantic-erotic works.
...and a dove descended...
By the way, I have ascertained that indeed, I am certainly holding back, emotionally, in the aftermath of my divorce. I'm not doing what some do, seeking out people who reinforce my views (indeed, I argue with those who feel Ann was a mistake to begin with...I often find myself in this position, actually defendng people who would not defend me, directly or indirectly. I'm not saint, but I have a good heart and a very positive IQ and I can see most sides of most issues...and empathize. Hate is uncomfortable to me, and fear for myself. Fear for the safety of others, no...unfortunately this often takes on such a generalized concern or love for the world that those closest to me become discouraged that I would not only take a bullet for them, but for a stranger, as well...I would think that those who choose to move in my sphere would want me to be the best person possible...but there are different definitions of "best" usually involving what they want. Sad. Truly sorrowful.) I am seeking truth, not validation.
I would rather lose, knowing the best person had won, than "win" knowing I was not the best. Winning is an illusion for selfish children.
Have much to do...wanted to share the dream and get some traction on my day, emotionally. A great deal of physical pain to cope with today, my self-diagnosis is gout...needle-sharp uric acid crystals in the joints of my feet. Walking is very difficult, running impossible, without an effort of will that tests my self-definition. I will need to do what I can to resolve this problem...
When the game is over, the war begins.
Went to a party last night, a 50th birthday party for an old friend I'd known since childhood. She used to date my older brother, Robert, I used to avidly pursue her younger sister (who later became the first of my totem-muses, Alabaster) and there were two even younger susters...one of whom makes my lst of the five best kissers I've ever encountered...
It was an interesting party, I admit I am not much of a party person, but I believe in at least not trying to make people uncomfortable, so I joined in as best I could. Robert was there, I got to talk to some people I hadn't really spoken with in a quarter century and noticed parts of my psyche long underutilized are still operating, albeit on Los Angeles wavelengths. Ironically enough, the last party I recall going to was Anne Beatts' 50 birthday party, as the guest of a friend who knows her. It was a little intimidating to find yourself suddenly in conversation with a guest (nonames, please) who was one of the original "Not Ready for Prime Time Players" on "Saturday Night Live" (Ms. Beatts was one of the original writers on that show, and told a wonderful tale of her 21st birthday and being taken out by John Belushi, Michael "Mr. Mike" O'Donoghue and Garrett Morris that I daren't repeat here.)
I survived both parties and little worse for the wear. And, no, for some reason or other I didn't even really speak with the kisser...she had her hands full being the sparkplug of the party, and, besides, she's married now and I've pretty much sworn off of married women in my diet (note the slight escape hatch left in that clause)...
Oh, I gave the birthday girl a copy of "The Morgantown Suite Poems" and Robert gave her a copy of "THe Compleat Panther Cycles". Both were autographed, of course.
Oh, a cute anecdote to mention. I have assiduously avoided attention at my workaday job. I work for some cash and for the benefits (had my first physical in half a decade a few weeks ago), but, this being Morgantown, no one there really knows about my "other life" (It's funny, in Los Angeles and San Jose, people recognized me and approached me when I worked projects and jobs...here...I am an unknown, which is nice in a way)
Anythewaywho, one of the young ladies at work was talking to me and was working on something on her computer...I asked what she was up to and she said "Oh, I'm writing a poem...want to see it?" I smiled and said "Poetry? I heard about that once, I think." Then I read it and told her I thought it was very nice.
That's an old trick I learned from reading "The Bluffer's Guide to Cinema" many years ago. The author of that book said that people tend to think of films as "great" or "lousy" and that you'd get the occasional "okay" but that was usually said by the guy who watched the movie from the back row of the balcony with Crazy Shirley. When you really don't have much to say, or that you want to say, you give a lukewarm positive reaction. It saves on wear and tear and protects their ego. It actually wasn't bad, the poem. And my secret identity was intact.
I was getting ready to write about some other topic, but stopped, in mid log on, to call my local US Cellular office, as I got a card in the mail telling me that my cell phone had returned from the National Repair Center and that I should "drop by the store as soon as possible to pick up your phone".
I was placed on hold by the sweet sounding young lady...twelve minutes later, having grown bored with the silence, I hung up.
I called back, and a man answered the phone...he didn't identify himself, but I asked if I owed them anything.
He responded that the phone had suffered "liquid damage" and was unrepairable. This little fact was not noted on the "please come and pick up" card...and was in direct contradiction to what their repairman had said on the day I dropped it off...he popped open the back and informed me that "at least it doesn't look like water damage"...explaining to me the strip in the back of the battery compartment was there to indicate if moisture had gotten to the phone.
Note: The phone had just spontaneously "winked out" one evening as it sat on my computer desk. I had not been outside in hours, I don't allow liquids next to my computer, and space aliens had not slid through a hole in the 8th dimension to sabotage me.
So, I asked about that...the guy (he lost the gentleman tag a few seconds before) informed me that there was no way the repairman could have known for sure and that "moisture damage" did not necessarily mean it had been "dunked in a cup[ of coffee" but might have just been left in a hot car during the day. Note to foreign terrorists: You don't need bombs or bullets, just get everyone to leave their cellphones in their car on a hot day.
I asked him what that meants to me, financially. He informed me that I would either have to buy a new phone (about $170.00) or, if available, a used one (half price). No further discussion. I have ten days to bring back the loaner phone and decide whether or not to pay them for the poor quality of their manufactured product or give up cellular service.
Needless to say, US Cellular did not make a friend today.
I've received a few comments from people regarding my posting of the near-naked cover that we didn't use for THE COMPLEAT PANTHER CYCLES....
if you liked what you saw, don't hesitate to let me know, and to visit, of course, the official website for Jillian Ann at www.jillianann.com. But don't completely desert me...her site is well-designed and she is beautiful and there are many photographs, but I found you first... (she does make one oblique reference to my book in one of her recent journals...I am not the high water mark of her career, in her eyes (I have found that models rarely take the long view, but that's not a put down, that's an acknowledgement of her worldview, which I respect...having been married to a wannabe for several years and having spent some time with models and photographers, a model's professional life is often so short that she can't afford to think in terms of decades or centuries...)
That having been said...I am announcing my new contest: (drum roll, fanfare, cue the balloons)
The THEOCRICIDE Book Cover Model Contest
Nest Spring (2006) we will be launching my next book of verse, THEOCRICIDE. Having been so pleased with the results of the use of a beautiful model on the cover of THE COMPLEAT PANTHER CYCLES, not to mention FROM AN UNEXPECTED QUARTER and LOVE GODS OF A FORGOTTEN RELIGION, I am putting out an open call for models. And, yes, I already have looked at a few, but I am NOT sold or wired into anyone yet, so I'd like options.
Between now and December 1, 2005, if you are interested in being the model whose face and form will dominate the cover (and most likely, the inside pages) of THEOCRICIDE, drop us a mini-portfolio of no less than three - no more than 5 - photos, at least one good headshot included - at trojanhearse@cityoflegends.com and mention Book Cover in your subject line so he doesn't delete you as spam.
Don't worry, we won't abscond with them or use them for anything without permission. Really interesting ones, we may ask permission to post to the blog or the website, to get feedback. We're looking for a woman (although EJ says twins would be dynamite, and I see his point) to represent the dark and light sides of spirituality/duality. We may end up using two models, or just one...we don't know for sure yet. Just as the cover of TCPC was inspired in no small part by Jillian Ann's photos when I stumbled over them (I was originally going to use my ex-wife, Ann-Michelle, as the model...but stuff happens)
The prize? Well, to start with, the winner gets a full library of my books in December, followed by being on the cover of the new book. Compenation? We aren't going to strong arm anyone, but we'll negotiate with you. Jillian Ann got compen$ation, a ton of free publicity, immortality and an acknowledgement in the book that includes a link to her website.
So, if you are a model, would like to be a model, or know a model who you think might like this shot, get in touch with EJ now...3-5 pictures (at least one of them a headshot...beyond that, we are not limiting type, style or subject matter of the photos) Yes, we do skew young and beautiful in our tastes, but we're looking for the thunderbolt, not a pre-conception.
Cash bribes, propositions and airline tickets are acceptable but will not affect the outcome of the contest.
And even though the contest closes December 1, the earlier you submit your entry, the better, before we become completely jaded.
For more information on the poet (me) and his works, go to www.cityoflegends.com.
Tired, but triumphant, our hero slips into the shadows and prepares for his next tour de force, content that, even if he falls on his face, he has the strength, the experience, and the fortitude to stand up, dust himself off and ride again.
In other words...I'm going to survive.
Sorry.
(laughing)
Hey, about to run a few essential errands then get back to the various projects that festoon reality with my name attached...
I have two slotted for completion this weekend so I can focus all my energies on the podcast recording sessions.
Bleah! I'm worn to the nubs.
Got word that Jillian Ann got her copy of THE COMPLEAT PANTHER CYCLES (she is the devastatingly striking model on the cover and between the pages, she also is a gifted and innovative techno-musician)...don't get me wrong, I LOVE the cover we used, I just wonder how much more intensely the book would have been perceived with the cover I originally mocked up with her photos. Oh, here it is...revealed at last.
We couldn't use it due to legal issues and in respect for and with the original photog...but under UCC regs, it is modified enough to qualify as a new image. We just couldn't use it commercially...
I liked the comment my brother, Robert, made when he saw this cover: "Will I regain the power of speech and will it always affect me this way?" Yes and yes. It still affects me in about twelve different ways, three of them illegal in seven states...maybe one day we shall unleash it, or something even steamier...hmmmm...I could always use a model for the cover of THEOCRICIDE. A demon for the front, an angel for the back?
