Wednesday, February 28, 2007

Staying alive...and busy

I am currently keeping my heard down, working hard...probably harder than I ever have before (and if you are one of those people who saw me during the time I was with Perot Systems or publishing three books in a 100 day span, you know how hard I can work).

I am relocating, most likely to the DC suburbs. Not rejecting West Virginia, just dealing with the financial necessities and a desire to see more of my sons. To that end I am spending more than an eight hour day conversing with various consultancies about working with or for them as a proposal writer or in some other capacity related to my absurdly thick resume.

I am also working on a song. Not a piece of poetry, but a song. It will either be brilliant or a glorious failure. Maybe both. It is heading twoards the edgy and the erotic, and I have received a request for a certain flourish that I cannot decline.

Let's see how it goes...I hope to have at least the rough of it later this week. And yes, I will be singing. I think that is actually a sign of the Apocalypse.

I am also trying to arrange the National Poetry Month events that I and others have sought to accomplish this Spring...and don't forget I am also serving as a judge in the chapbook contest for the Texas Panhandle Writers' Frontiers in Writing (FiW) convention, and I should be seeing those entries in the next few weeks.

Life? Who has a life?

Tuesday, February 27, 2007

last dance in Valhalla

An older work, posted due to some inspiration today.

last dance in Valhalla

is there room for a man on Olympus?
I doubt it. the address sooner or later
slips out and everyone moves to the other
side of the room or wants a dispensation
or just to burn offerings at your feet.
I'm so goddamn tired of being more
than a man in so many eyes. eyes that
should love, not adore. tongues that should
share, not sing hymns. weeping in the
silence brought by fears of others? is it wrong
to want to no longer be alone? to be able
to know someone who doesn't think that
to sit in the same room for an hour
will diminish them? unfinished
business. kindness damned. doors slammed
when you try to ask for a cup of sugar and
they think you're trying to start a new religion
or something such as that. veils that lie
heavy on the eye, veils that lay heavy
on the heart. and no one left to talk to
but the vultures. I do not want this cup,
Father, unless it contains hemlock.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

truthspeak

I am addicted to the truth. Sometimes more than is wholesome. It has lead me to be too curious at times, and when compelled by social convention or external need to tell the "white lie" it hurts, bad. It is a violation of a core principle, it is battery acid in an open wound.

I don't like games, I don't like being patronized. I don't believe in the lesser or greater value of individuals, just their suitability to a given moment, place or purpose. I love both strawberry ice cream and chicken livers, but accept the fact that there is no way those two should be placed in the same blender together.

I write what is true. I can be arch, even brutal, in my words. But it is still the truth that I speak, setting aside the politics of the moment or the big picture in order to truthspeak.

This makes people uncomfortable, and at times I feel a great pressure to conform, to fall back and into the morass of social gamesmanship. Make no mistake, I know my way around a conversation and a manipulation and like Tom Selleck's Quigley, I may not have much use for it, but I didn't say I don't know how to use it. I can be a master manipulator. Someone the other day asked me how it is possible to take free will from another person. I can think of a hundred ways, some more awful than amusing, some merely cruel diversions.

I fight every day not to implement them in my life. I save my manipulations for myself, my rationalizations for the dark and angry times when I need someone there I trust to have my back. I haven't really found anyone who has lived up t that station, so I remain, as one old friend calls me, the Outrider.

I write well. People buy my books. I have enemies. Some for real reason, as I cuckolded them. Sorry. Some just out of envy or confusion or misinformation. I had a friend go out to the web and find twenty things about me, without filtering or editing. Then she and I looked at them. Nine were true, five were half-truths. Six were blatant inaccuracies. There are days I feel the pressure to hide, to give up, give out, give in to the inevitable.

Sorry, I can't. I tried. When you cool the fire, it dies. I've been dead, inside. It isn't pleasant and it eats at you when you know you can do more, say more, be more and to the benefit of others. As long as there is good purpose to me and in me, I will exist. I have made mountains of money for clients. I have inspired love between two people, been the spark to conception that has resulted in more than one child in this world being born. I have placed myself in harm's way for both friends and strangers.

The path is still obscure, but I feel my way with unfaded passion. I have a few good battles of the soul left within me.

strange week

It's Tuesday of a brutal week. A lot going on, a lot.

The podcast came out well, don't you think? And the new song, "Pondering the Riddle", will, I think, earn a note in the annals as an important "transitional" work.

The whole Jim Cameron "Jesus' Crypt" controversy looks to be little more than a huckster attempt at making money off of old news. Ultimately boring and just a way for a couple of newshounds to make a fast buck while diverting the mainstream from real issues like the War in Iraq, Global Warming and the possibility of Antonella Barba appearing tonight on American Idol.

Sigh.

Life goes on.

By the way, I think if I never hear another woman in this life tell a suitor that she's not good enough for him, that he deserves better, I think I shall retch. People who are that good should get what they want, not what others define for them. And what does this say about the next man in that woman's life? That he is second rate?

I, personally think it is crude and self-deprecating attempt at rejection while attempting to protect the fragile male ego. Boys sometimes fall for it, men do not.

Monday, February 26, 2007

Last Night's Podcast in Now Accessible

A nice moment from "All That Jazz" where Joe Gideon says

"I hate show business" then corrects himself to say "I love show business. I'll go either way."

I hate technology. I'll leave it at that this morning as a way of explaining and apologizing for the delay in posting last night's podcast.

From Out of the City for February 25, 2007

I do readings of 4 works from E.J.'s blog (amomancer.blogspot.com) and discuss each of the pieces: "The Ancient Brain", "Voices on the Wind: Variation Two", "Will You Be With Me Tonight" and "The Gloaming Light of a Mid-Spring's Meander".

Enjoi.

Sunday, February 25, 2007

Here Comes Mongo

Well, one of my favourite lines in "Blazing Saddles" is where two settlers are talking about a cure for anthrax being developed by Louis Pasteur. Suddenly one of them sees Alex Karras' inhumanly powerful thug arriving in town and intones "Never mind that shit, here comes Mongo!"

We have stories going around about Obama and Clinton camps throwing invective. We have an attractive American Idol contestant with scads of photographs showing her defiling war memorials and engaging in oral sex. We have a dead playboy playmate with mass confusion over who fathered her child.

But...here come Mongo.

In the person of James Cameron, the award-winning filmaker of "Titanic", who is unveiling a documentary in which he claims to have DNA evidence that the entirety of Christendom is an elaborate hoax. That Jesus died, not on the cross, but after marrying Mary Magdalene and producing at least one child. That the last two thousand years of Western Civilization has been based on a lie.

For further info, you can check out the article on Time.com about the crypt of Jesus and His family. The case is flimsy. I'd love to see the supposed DNA evidence Cameron has. DNA evidence proving what? That some guy's body they found in a crypt in the Middle East is of Middle Eastern descent? That would be shocking! Gasp!

You know, I don't believe that Jesus' life and death and resurrection were a hoax. I don't know Cameron's motives or beliefs and I really don't care. He's spending his money to present his beliefs, that's pretty much protected speech under the US Constitution.

So forget Anna Nicole Smith, and Hillary and Obama, and Antonella Barba...here comes Mongo for a media storm.

If God could do the tricks that we can do...

I am planning to issue a podcast late tonight or early this morning, so keep your eyes and ears open. The new music piece at MySpace is doing well, getting some good feedback on it, so I am happy with that.

Book news? Heh. Don't get me started, things are very chaotic right now. I'll be cleaning that up and issuing some new schedules in about 6 weeks, according to current plans. Presume all previous edicts are valid.

Tonight is the Academy Awards. Some good films this year. No disrespect to Forest Whittaker, but I am rooting for Peter O'Toole, my favourite actor all time, to win the Best Actor award for his role in "Venus". After a career of near misses in classic roles that have eclipsed the performances that beat him out in momentary lapses of Academy judgement, I want the venerable acting warhorse to get the gold.

While my favourite film, all time, remains "All That Jazz", my top ten list of all time includes O'Toole in "The Stunt Man" (the source of this posting's title) and "The Lion in Winter".

Best of luck, Peter.

Saturday, February 24, 2007

Another Idol bites it

I really feel sorry for Antonella Barba (yes, I have seen the pictures) who is probably going to be making a less-than-graceful exit from the American Idol competition before next week. Maybe this means Baylie Brown gets a second chance?

I am amazed that so many people seem oblivious to the fact that certain actions (allowing oneself to be photographed performing sex acts on one's boyfriend, for instance) might just make it to the internet if one takes the step to the public eye. And, while I am not a huge supporter of Ms. Barba's talents (I quipped after watching her the other night that they were keeping her for sex appeal, coincidentally) I have nothing but contempt for the individual or individuals who either for spite or money have inflicted this distress and discourtesy on the young woman and her family.

I had a close friend who had make sex tapes with a guy from her neighborhood (not a boyfriend, it was "just for fun") and she was always afraid that they'd come back to haunt her one day (he had them). To the best of my knowledge they never surfaced, but she was aware of the hurt it would cause her and her family and regretted having been thaat careless. She worried about it for years.

People: Your actions, particularly if recorded, echo for years. If you don't have the common sense to protect your reputation and public image, maybe you shouldn't be in the public spotlight. I am sure Antonella is now wishing she had not made the final 24 of American Idol, because the odds are these photos would never have come to light if she had not.

Sorry for what is happening, Antonella. But second chances do happen and I hope you rise above all of this youthful indiscretion.

Pondering the Riddle, up at MySpace

New music up at MySpace...

Pondering the Riddle

Check it out and let me know what you think...thanks again to the crew at Studio C in suburban Washington, DC, for the technical backing and to the Gods of Love for their musical genius.

I thought you'd appreciate the aggressive profile of this four and a half minute ear-coit.

I Can't Make You Love Me

As adverse as I am to using other writer's works in my blog, I just felt like talking about one of the best lyrics ever writ...that of "I Can't Make You Love Me" by Mike Reid and Allen Shamblin, most famously performed by the great Bonnie Raitt.

To any romantic who has ever suffered a reversal in the sphere of Venus, it speaks, brutally and beautifully.

"Turn down the lights, turn down the bed
Turn down these voices inside my head
Lay down with me, tell me no lies
Just hold me close, don't patronize - don't patronize me"

We all want to hear the words, but we don't want to be lied to. People who say "I love you" out of pity or patronization wound us, create an illusion. I had a lover once that I confessed a sorrow to because I knew she did not love me. She pointed out that since I did love her, my lovemaking was an expression of my heart, and thus was earnest and true. Hard thoughts, perhaps, even hollow, but true. Even ennobling.

"Cause I can't make you love me if you don't
You can't make your heart feel something it won't
Here in the dark, in these final hours
I will lay down my heart and I'll feel the power
But you won't, no you won't
Cause I can't make you love me, if you don't"

It is painful, trying to communicate the love, the passion, the truth, praying to the silent gods within us that we will find reciprocity to the integrity of our hearts. Sometimes it is a lost cause, when we give our hearts to those unwilling, unworthy or uncertain. But when we stop daring to love, we stop living.

"I'll close my eyes, then I won't see
The love you don't feel when you're holding me
Morning will come and I'll do what's right
Just give me till then to give up this fight
And I will give up this fight"

Been there. There is a sense of defeat, a sense of desolation, like knowing you will wake to find yourself alone in a world of total lifelessness. The desire, the hope, the desperate prayer that someone this one last chance to connect will lead to an epiphany in their heart. When Prince performs this song he includes words referring to "this bedroom-slash-church". A lover sees the sacred nature of their passion, the metaphysical aspect to the physical desire. The transcendence of love.

"Cause I can't make you love me if you don't
You can't make your heart feel something it won't
Here in the dark, in these final hours
I will lay down my heart and I'll feel the power
But you won't, no you won't"

In the end, we have no control over the hearts of others, and we don't want it. Would you truly want the love of someone whose free will you had usurped? The word for that in the physical sphere is rape. What would it be in the emotional or spiritual sphere? Nothing I would want linked to my name.

"Cause I can't make you love me, if you don't"

Absolutely.

Friday, February 23, 2007

the poetry shell game

Okay, you caught me. A few of you have written in to point out that, in the last few days, the poems being posted by E.J. on the Amomancer blog (amomancer.blogspot.com) are in chronological order from the nearly two hundred poems I have recently had on AuthorsDen, and that, as E.J. posts them to the blog, he is deleting them from AuthorsDen.

Ya got me.

I am looking to downsize my presence on the venerable writers' site and to that end told E.J. to start pulling the works, oldest first, and using them on the blog. So shoot me. It also means he is unlikely to double-post any poems.

So it serves a dual-purpose.

In other news, still visiting with the boys, still poking my nose into corners of the consulting industry, contemplating a return to my successful but interrupted career as a proposal jock (the money was good, but I had to choose between my career and the life of someone I cared for, never a hard choice for me). Poetry is still who I am. But, unfortunately, the Gods of commerce must be served, as well.

I'll just save the good stuff for the muses. Right, Jaz?

Thursday, February 22, 2007

Chimps using spears for hunting

See this in the news today?

Chimps Using Spears to Kill Food.

Not only are there documented cases of chimpanzees using spears to kill their food, but it seems that it is the females with the smarts to do so.

Reconsidering Hillary for President now? I mean if the female chimps are the smartest, maybe it is about time that their closest primate relative (us) ceded some decision making power to the female of the species? She certainly couldn't do any worse! No offense to her intended, she is still the candidate I am currently backing for 2008...this just seems to add a little rational levity to a campaign already rife with desperate discourse.

Ook! Ook!

What if...

Believing in other people is hard, unless you open your eyes and see with a clear mind and a clear heart.

People will read into your thoughts, words and actions the intentions that they have experienced in others, or would themselves carry, but you can't let the ignorance and prejudice of others numb you to truth, to beauty, to passion.

Ally Sheedy's character in "The Breakfast Club" said "When you grow up, your heart dies". It's a wrenching statement and unfortunately all too true. Everyday I deal with people who either have consciously or preconsciously made the choice to lay down their hearts, their souls, their dreams, for the mediocrity that is so easily in their reach, tired as they are of fighting the forces that may make it a challenge to achieve their goals, their potential.

Don't give up. Fight, damn you. Fight until the blood is drained from your veins and replaced with the chemicals that will slow the worms in their relentless need to feed on all that remains.

We substitute things for real accomplishment, for real activity, for real heart and soul and pith and marrow. We take the coward's way out rather than be as human as we dare to be, to strive for excellence and accomplishment. Paul Simon in "Slip Sliding Away" spoke of a woman who had given up on life who said "A good day ain't got no rain. A bad day is when I lie in bed and think of things that might have been."

Yes, I think of things that might have been. If I had been faithful to Psyche. If I had asked Brigit to stay. If I had bastardized myself for a New York publisher more than two decades ago. And I count the people who, on the whole, including myself, who would have perished, if not in the flesh, but in their souls, had I played it too safe. What if...

You know what? "What if" is not a game for scholars. It is a game for cowards.

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

My daughter meets Obama

My daughter met Barack Obama the other day, in Los Angeles, at a political event. From what I hear, he impressed her, although her description of their meeting sounds positively Clintonian in his manner (Bill, not Hillary). His manner of personal address and physical presence reminds a lot of people who meet him of a former Governor from Arkansas. Good role model to emulate.

At this time I have no issue with the Obama candidacy for President, I think he is bright, sweet and charming, and I agree with more of the key issues with him than I disagree.

That having been said, he is, at this time, my 3rd choice for President in 2008.

#1 is Al Gore. The man won in 2000, just because of one of the most egregious of acts of political skulduggery in the history of the United States put a dangerously imbalanced man-child in office doesn't change the will of the people. We need Al, he has his priorities right: Even Haliburton won't make a profit if everyone is dead due to climate catastrophes. I don't think of the current regime of military-industrial buffoons is evil, merely stupid to the point of suicidally genocidal.

#2 is Hillary Clinton. She's smart, sassy and experienced. She knows how things work and she isn't afraid to do what has to be done. She has some heavy baggage, but who doesn't? And it is about effing time the United States joined England, India, Israel and so many other world powers that have put a woman in the driver's seat.

I think it would be a good thing to elect any of these three. I'll back the Democratic Party candidate in 2008, and pray we can fix some of the horrific damage done in the last few years by sincere but incompetent and short-sighted leaders.

My name is William F. DeVault, and I approved this message. Hell, I wrote it.

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

email disconnect

Feeling a little blind and deaf this evening...webmail.registeredsite.com seems to be down. For those of you unfamiliar with that service, it is the place where the people who have their websites hosted via web.com (I got to them through my old relationship with Interland) go to use their email. I don't know if it is a server malfunction, a web breakdown or a denial of service attack, but it is a hassle.

And if I am shut out, thousands of other website owners are being inconvenienced, as well.

I went to web.com, but even the customer support page won't come up, which tells me it is a more general problem than just the mail service.

Yecch.

a little Jaz music

Jaz texted me earlier to ask if I was responsible for a sandwich that mysteriously appeared on her desk after lunch. Seeing as a) I never give sandwiches as gifts to impress women and b) I would rather give flowers or red velvet cake as a surprise gift and c) I am 3000 miles away from her at the moment, I told her I was not responsible.

Half an hour later she texted again to let me know she'd solved the mystery. It was her own sandwich she'd brought back with her from lunch.

Thank God she's still got her looks. Adorable. Brilliant. Charming. Sexy. Funny. Just a little distractable?

podcast transcripts

A good idea, presented by a reader. To provide transcripts of the podcasts I do. It will mean a lot more work, for E.J. (he doesn't mind), and a lot more clarity to the shows.

So. starting this week, we'll be posting transcripts of the podcasts for the listeners (and readers). Not a bad idea, thanks.

I'll be back later...ten thousand things to do!

Hi, Jaz!

Monday, February 19, 2007

The idiot that I am

The boss just let me know that I had posted news of the new podcast...to my blog, not here. So..ooops!

"And here it is...delayed due to internet upload technical difficulties, the Romantic Poet of the Internet, the Amomancer, and his latest installment of "From Out of the City"...an analysis of preconconscious versus conscious inspirations in writing poems. He reads and discusses, all too briefly, the works "glass" and "response to 'glass'" (which you can read the text of at my blog (amomancer.blogspot.com)

From Out of the City for February 18, 2007

As the poet himself would say (were he awake)...enjoi."

Monday morning stretch

Thanks to E.J. for seeing to the posting of the new podcast. Thanks, guy.

Yes, I was yet asleep. Dreaming, too. The dream? Only between me and whoever else needs to know.

So, what's in the news today for me to rant about? Maybe the un-Christian attitude that is being propagated by the hysteria over lifetime sentences for sex criminals. Lifetime, you say? Hey, at least in jail they are in a frame, but when a man or woman has to be haunted and hunted the rest of their lives because of something that happened, in some cases, decades before, we have lost our way as a civilization. Setting up individuals who have, under the Constitution, paid their debt to society to be targets of harrassment and violence is not meaningful or helpful. By the way, most molested children are victims of family members, not previously convicted strangers, maybe we need to start keeping children away from their own parents, siblings and uncles?

We don't do this sort of thing to thieves or murderers or drug dealers...but that one case of that young man who committed suicide because people abused the law and posted his picture along with the logo "Child Rapist" all over his neighborhood, that grinds. I trust that God will show the same mercy and acceptance of repentance and penance at judgement for those people gloating over his death and pain. They earned it.

Hey, look! Anna Nicole Smith is still dead. And I still don't care. Hundreds have died in Iraq since that tragically messed up young woman died, and many of those who died in Iraq were children, victims of war and American servicemen and women. Shame on all the news outlets for thinking she is more important than those people. Shame.

A guy is claiming his firing by IBM over his internet porn addiction was prejudicial and unfair. I knew a guy who got fired over internet porn addiction. And he was working for this father-in-law. Imagine how humiliating that had to be. Porn and internet and videogame addictions, unless caused by a provable organic source, are not addictions, they're habituations. I worked as an addiction counselor. Don't marginalize those with real brain chemistry and genetic problems by claiming any guy who likes to look at naked pictures is a disabled person requiring legal protection (or, then, of course, we have to consider child molestors "disabled" and offer them protection for the consequences of their behaviors. right?)

Think this through, people.

Sunday, February 18, 2007

tonight's podcast

Technical issues may delay the promotion of the podcast for today until early tomorrow. I thank you for your patience.

By the way, this will be only the second time I've used Studio C for my recording studio. Wish me luck.

Night Jaz.

self-definition

self-definition

you are not your past
or your future
or anything that anyone else for any reason would
define you as.

you are as you are.
complicated, perhaps,
but not like God, unknowable.
and certainly, you are worthy of love
and trust and respect,
words used like counterfeit
Monopoly money,
not even fit to play games with
in the hands of the dishonest
friend or suitor.
words used to manipulate
and to tell you not what you are
but what others see through the filters
of their bruised and blackened hearts.
blind eyes telling you
which way to walk and how fast
and when to stop to keep from harm.

you are not a label
or an ethnicity
or the products you use to clean your house
or wash your hair.

you are who you know you are
and who you want to be
and the ten thousand paces between those
two points in space and time.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

for "Just Jaz".

Plan is to podcast tonight.

Saturday, February 17, 2007

a grey silence

A moment of sadness. I have found that my last known contact point with Brigit has ended. It was shocking, but not unexpected. I never really release those I care for. I have lost some from my life for months, even years at a time only to have them return from an unexpected quarter.

If I do not hear from her again, I only hope and trust it is well and she has found a path worthy of her talents and dreams.

Be well, Brigit. I shall miss you, for the season you are gone. You were, for all our inconveniencies and troubles, one of the most important people to ever connect to my life.

Avatars in the Night

Quote for today: "Don't put anything in my head you wouldn't put in my bed."

It was inspired by a close (but not close enough) female friend who left me a message about getting out of a hot tub naked and wet at night. She always cautions me about my imagination (I have a very good imagination, thank you very much) and she is afraid of my thinking about her in ways un-Platonic.

This was definitely in that category. So, to her, I dedicate the piece I sent to EJ to post at amomancer.blogspot.com, based on that image and some feelings it inspired in locations not confined to my heart and mind.

And, this piece, based on my quotation above:

Avatars in the Night

you're in my head.
stretched and tempting
half-mad to be bad
to be in my bed
giving me a single night
to prove my passion
in ways you can barely imagine
until this spirit is upon you
and within you,
five senses. seven powers.
and I dreamt of you, last night,
feral and beautiful
and on sheets heated to lambence
by what was passing
between avatars in the heat.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

Friday, February 16, 2007

a good St. Patrick's joke opening

An Irish hottie and a Mexican goddess walk into a bar...

(finish at will)

ahem

would you settle for his being busy spending quality time with a cover model who missed him while he was out of town?

Thursday, February 15, 2007

Thursday, February 15

If everything goes to plan, I should be on the road in about 2-3 hours, heading back to Morgantown. The main roads sound good, the side roads nightmarish. The trick is to get off the side roads asap. Alas, I am in a valley with about a half mile of side roads to navigate before I get to main roads. So, there is always a possibility I will have to abort.

We shall see.

Good Valentine's Day yesterday. Okay, I am a sucker for my own romantic ways. No I am not in a full blown relationship at this time, but the road is interesting and the goal worthwhile.

So, indulge me.

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

last minute cyberindulgence

I don't drink champagne, but here's some nice cake to share, as well.

balloons and teddy

Just for Jaz.

Happy Valentine's Day! (Damn, I get mushy sometimes.)

as I consider

as I consider

entwine your fingers with mine,
binding you to nothing but friendship,
but giving me a sense of accomplishment
as I consider the necessity of kisses
in the bravery of hearts set ablaze
in the haze of memories
I'd like to make with a worthy soul.
as I consider the scent of you,
entering my most subtle thoughts
caught in the beauty of your eyes.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

for my valentine.

Valentine's New Year's Gratitudes

I think, since New Year's is an arbitrary date in the calendar, that I will start treating Valentine's Day as my New Year.

To that end, I'd like to thank the following, who made last year a gem for the ages:

My daughter Peri, for choosing well a husband, and her new hubby Brian, for being the guy who makes it easier for me to sleep at night knowing he's watching over my baby girl.

To my ex, Jan, for being a good and aggressive parent and guardian over my sons.

To my sons, for that, as well.

To Jaz, for inspiring me and allowing me write to and of her while she weighs my role in her heart.

To Sarah, for her remarkable image on the cover of my book RONIN IN THE TEMPLE OF APHRODITE.

To Mari, for keeping me young.

To Dan McTaggart, for being a first-water collaborator and friend.

To Alan, one of my oldest friends and a great human being, and to his wife Deb, for being the kind of person I wish would fall in love with me.

To Chanda with Barnes & Noble for her support and efficiency.

To the guys in The Gods of Love, for giving me new directions to grow in.

To Molly McKnight with The Texas Panhandle Writers, for the honor of choosing me to help judge their chapbook contest.

To Steph, for reminding me that I owe a debt to those who owe me, as well.

To Jennifer, for making my birthday worth making it to.

To K for proving that not all redheads are insane. Completely.

To my siblings, my parents, my nieces, nephews and friends who made this a full year.

To my readers and fans.

To Ana, for keeping me humble.

Thanks all. I am sure I missed someone, somewhere. Thank you for forgiving me the oversight.

Congrats to a young poet

Congratulations to Hanna Irvin, the daughter of my muse Karla Frances Sasser (aka the Mad Gypsy) for finishing third in the Patricia Grodd Poetry Prize for Young Writers.

To read her entry at the official website, you can click right here at the Kenyon Review site.

Congratulations Hanna. Like mother, like daughter, both gifted artists.

Cancellation of appearance

Owing to the ice storms in the Eastern United States, I am cancelling my appearance at Barnes & Noble tonight in Morgantown, WV...we'll try to reschedule as soon as possible.

Sorry, guys.

bound

bound

I have the dreams you could accept
in drying tears once earned and wept
for lovers lost, undeserving of your light.
tight bound. in the beautiful night
in your soul of ebon roses and warm wine.
in ways I can't explain or define
you have tied me to you, like a trace'd bird
waiting you to let slip that I am cured
of my need to soar on waxwork wings
to bring you back the hunted offerings
of your whims and cruel necessity,
to draw you into my skies that I might be
more than random chance or dance, fierce
with my desires, playing time to pierce
your heart and your willing flesh to
mark you half as bound to me as I am to you.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

for Jaz. Until she is stupid enough to let me get away. Happy Valentine's Day, love.

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Tuesday night...February 13

Tomorrow night is the big Valentine's Day reading at Barnes & Noble...but we're facing a weather problem. Snow and freezing rain that might block it from going down. I face a 200+ mile trip to get to it, all of it through areas that are projected for tonight and tomorrow to have hazardous weather conditions.

Part of me says to go only if the roads are really decent, part of me realizes the worthy irony in a romantic poet perishing on Valentine's Day. No, I am not suicidal, just bemused.

I'll let you know tomorrow what I decide to do, based on the weather, then.

Until then, I am helping a woman whom I adore in her campaign to win a man who is not me.

Talk about an idiot, hm?

a good V-Day eve to all...

The Jaz(z) is back.

Tuesday snowjob

Snow. Why does it have to be snow?

My friend, usually. I love snow. But, when mixed with freezing rain when I am mobile, it can become an impediment. I will do what I have to do to be at the reading tomorrow night, though.

Still a few people MIA in my life...I wonder if it is time to change mouthwash or deodorant? Or if it is just my usual stye of surrounding myself with unstable people who aren't sure what they want? Or both. Or have the damn space aliens started abducting people again? I thought we had a deal...I stayed out of the Tau Ceti backwaters and they laid off my friends.

Some never learn.

I have been writing. Some decent enough stuff. Great feedback, so far, on the new podcast...special thanks to the...

Monday, February 12, 2007

The Valentine's Day Podcast is Live

Okay. Here 'tis.

Valentine's Day 2007 Podcast

It features three poems, "poet's lament", "from the parapet" and "But I've Got You On My Mind" and I even tell the story of how I almost went Motown on that last piece. Enjoi.

Oh, referencing the title of the third poem: I do.

Sunday, February 11, 2007

February 11th, 2007. 1095 days. and counting.

It will be three years, tomorrow. Three years without that which is more essential to me than food or drink or rational thought.

Every psychological test I have played fair with (it is easy to cheat when you know what is being looked for, the legacy of having taken a psychology student for a lover) tells me the same thing, over and over. It is my mead and my manna, and I am intentionally starving myself to death, or at least into silence. This time, the spirit has held up more resolute than the last time. I did not expect to maintain my oath for so long, the fates have been both cruel and kind in this. I have avoided illusion, but also avoided opportunity for real connection, real resonance that might bring an end to this gnawing drought of passions.

I said more than a year ago that I have accepted the notion that I may, through chance and happenstance and my own subtle preconscious sabotages, stay on this road for the rest of my life. I have accepted this. Not with a glad heart, but an earnest one, as one comes before God (or should), knowing the trail is difficult, the rewards modest (if you take the path I have taken and renounced the reward of an afterlife) and there are those who cannot comprehend your choice. I do not ask them to, if you stay your hand to gain the assent of everyone before you act, you will cripple yourself from action.

This week I will make my final committed public performance...there are still possibilities for April (Morgantown) and June (Amarillo), but they are not locked in and set into the stone, cut into the bone. I will embrace this Valentine's Day reading as a final public performance, to give it the legitimacy of a wedding night.

There is an irony in a monastic Amomancer, but better the elusion of a lie than the illusion of self-deceit.

Saturday, February 10, 2007

In love

No charity.

No parity.

In love.

the flowers use their powers
of their fragrant nectars
to draw you in
for their purposes.

And yet petals

smell beautiful.

In love.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

I'd save the raw draft of this, but it is written in Sharpie pen on the back of my left hand. Final touches for the honor of Shye, who is curious as to the disposition of my heart and my soul.

the Amomancer regrets...

The poet apologizes for his absence, but he is into his podcast creation for this coming Sunday night. He sounds...involved.

Just in case, I want the riot control teams to encircle his location...tasers at the ready. Try to take him alive, deadly force only as a last resort. I got the kryptonite-filled silver and depleted uranium bullets dipped in Holy Water laced with strychnine and garlic in the chamber. Aim center mass, run the clip.

Hide your daughters, sisters, wives and girlfriends. He's opening the gate to madness for this one. I think he'll actually be releasing it just after midnight on the 11th (Eastern Time) so that it falls on the 12th. A major day in his history, one that he channels pain from.

Friday, February 09, 2007

Naked women in the City of Legends

Out of curiosity, how many of you have explored the wonders of the new format poetry pages at The City of Legends, particularly:

She Dances Away When I Awake
Waiting for the Pentecost
The Faerie: Love

As these are the three test cases. I alos want to hear what people think about the level of nudity. These three have some implied nudity...is that okay with the masses? Can I go a little further without offending everyone? How far?

I have some model friends who are very uninhibited and who would not mind showing more...but I don't want to turn off people who find explicity an issue.

I personally have nothing against beautiful, naked women. I could use one right now. Dammit, forgot. Under oath. Damn. Okay, could use one soon...

But anyway, let me know what you think of the images and the poetry and their synchronicity. Thanks again to Shye for being my test case.

I didn't care about Anna Nicole Smith

I just saw a newswire story stating that we "cared about Anna Nicole Smith" because she persevered in life.

Sorry, guys...we "cared" because scandal-hungry news outlets in this informationally gluttonous time told us we had to. She wasn't a survivor. She's dead. I'd like to see the media focus once on a while on a woman as a role model for young women who accomplished something in this life with something other than their breast implants or sleeping with someone.

I know people who are survivors, who persevered. People that I admire. Not a small town Texas girl who lucked into a fortune because she was the stripper in the off-shift when the enfeebled billionaire got taken to the club by associates trying to cheer him up.

I am sorry for her friends and her family, they mourn for real. But haven't we had enough of shows like "Entertainment Tonight" dictating what is entertaining, what is noteworthy? They have become so frightened of losing market share, of being behind (or over the head of) the public tastes that they manufacture our news, our icons, our heroes. I never laughed with Anna Nicole Smith, I don't know anyone who did. I know many who laughed at her, who considered her a slow-motion car wreck unfolding on 6 channels at 7:30 pm every evening.

And most of them, except for the media telling us we should, we must, we have to, do not care. The same day she died, how many US servicemen and servicewomen serving in Iraq died? How many children starved to death in Darfur? How many abused girlfriends and spouses and children succumb to their injuries?

And you want us to lionize Anna Nicole Smith? What is so perverse about American culture that we trivialize the real world to hide behind cartoonish buffoons and untalented photo-op hogs like her, Paris Hilton and the entire raft of "celebrities because they are celebrities".

By whose annointing?

As a Christian I love everyone, I want no one to suffer, even my enemies, but if you think I am going to disengage from my friends, family, career and faith to celebrate someone who did nothing to deserve my respect or honor, besides get someone to photograph her ass, I'm sorry.

Sell that down the block. We're not buying here. Move along. Move along.

Notes from Purgatory

Five days until Valentine's Day. Notes from Purgatory follow.

Growing the mustache back, for the moment. Why? No idea. Whim.

Spoke with representatives of two different consultancies in the DC area this week, while in the area on personal business. The money that is there is pretty intense, the interest on their parts is real. I am being lured back to the commercial side of the force. Ah well, I guess sacrifices have to be made.

Working hard on the Valentine's Day show. I promise you something...surprising. I want something that if killer ninjas materialize and cut me down then steal the body and eliminate the entire catalog of my works from the culture of this planet (despite sniping by some ne'er-do-well critics, not likely to happen) except for this program, people will still find my legacy remarkable.

Yeah, I like setting the bar not so much high as on an alien planet.

Missing Jaz, while she is on vacation. Missing a few key friends in Morgantown while I am exiled by necessity to the DC area. They know who they are, or they should.

More later. Much love to the planet.

Thursday, February 08, 2007

The Slide Show

For the MySpace-aversive, here's the Slide Slow, courtesy of Slider.com that I recently added to the MySpace page for William F. DeVault F. DeVault and the Gods of Love.


Pretty cool, huh?

Wednesday, February 07, 2007

Richardson Supports UN Intervention in Darfur

Bill Richardson, the former UN Ambassador, has called for UN peacekeeping forces in Darfur. As one who has endorsed intervention to resolve the genocide and humanitarium crisis, I have to support this request with all my heart.

For more information:

Richardson Supports UN Intervention in Darfur

Wednesday, life is like a box of Whizzo Quality Assortment chocolates

I have shuffled the tracks on MySpace for the band (William F. DeVault and the Gods of Love at MySpace) so that listeners get a spread of the 4 pieces we put on there. For Valentine's Day I am going to make major substitutions...wait and see.

Some other major changes coming, not just in the poetry and recording arenas. I'll keep you all informed. Looks like the Assassin may be making his reappearance in corporate America (an old nickname of mine from my management days) to the delight of my creditors. Poetry is what I am about, but I can write fifty hours a week and still have time and emotional juice left over to drive a hardcore corporate paycheck.

And a relationship, you ask? You never know. There are candidates, maybe I should just find a good buddy. There'll be some juggling on that, it looks like...I'm sort of like an air fern. I don't ask for much, just that you neither airlock me or set me on fire. A boy has to have his standards, I have enough faith to deal with life as it comes. Some dynamism in the universe right now. "There is great disorder under heaven and the situation is excellent," some guy name Mao Tse Tung once said. Who can argue?

I am looking forward to the Valentine's Day podcast...I promise you something...startling.

Thanks to E.J. for finding a buyer for the copy of "101 Great Love Poems"...I suck as a self-promoter, always been too much the "I'll do my thing and if that's not interesting to you, that's fine". I can sell anything but myself.

a strange one from the vault

For those who have been away for a bit...

Memory of a Blindman's Illusion

the reds and golds had melted down to flow across the grays...
you asked me for an answer to the riddle I'd once told.
the blues and fecund violets were counting all the days...
the puzzle pondered Plato, though he knew the trail was cold.

the cigarette was bitter, but the taste was all the same.
I asked a dark reflection if he knew me by my name.
the glass I drained, it lay there...just feeding on the dregs.
the goblet's handle felt to be the image of your legs.

a thousand shades of ebony descended with a laugh...
the bloodstains on my forehead now asked for a cup of tea.
the silvers and the cobalts now killed the sacred calf.
the auctioneer recanted and my soul was sold for free.

every woman dressed in red had slept with me before.
and every woman dressed in black lay dying on the floor.
the reptile lady danced for you...she climaxed with a yawn.
we drank the lies and told the wine until the early dawn.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

Hope everyone is well.

Tuesday, February 06, 2007

reality?

Quick update on reality:

The reading on the 14th is still on. The publishing schedule is still on. There will be a special, Valentine's-themed podcast this Sunday, the 11th.

Jaz is still alive, well and my romantic focus (yes, she has been quiet lately...a woman has a right to her privacy, no?)

I am writing every day. And I am very excited about the reception the revision underway at The City of Legends is getting.

To quote the immortal Rick Derringer

"I'm still alive and well
I'm still alive and well
Every now and then I know it's kind of hard to tell
But I'm still alive and well."

Eleven years ago, today, I was in the hospital, having checked myself in whilst dealing with extreme exhaustion. I was working at a brutal level in a technology job, going through a divorce, dealing with the loss of my best friend (my daughter, Peri) and my girlfriend had just split on me. Oh, and had just signed away my financial status, in a buy out for my freedom.

And people wonder where I got my grit? I had to find it, or die by the side of the road. Last night my ex apologized to me for putting me in "this dangerous position". I told her, with no bravado, that I've seen worse.

Sit, motionless and sleepless, on the edge of a bed in a crack hotel while your girlfriend is unconscious on a random selection of prescription drugs, and you can hear the breathing of the dealer, in the hall, by the door, pondering whether or not to come for her and you.

Walk a half mile, in a long sleeved shirt and down vest, in a blizzard with a wind chill below zero, to the nearest house to see if there is anyone home to call a tow truck while your wife and baby daughter sit in the car, twenty feet off the road and down an embankment.

You get used to people relying on you. It would be nice, once in a while, to be taken care of, if only for a day or two. But I am not sure I'd be able to appreciate it.

Sometimes, I just get tired. We live in a world of spiritual roadkill, where excellence is a cause for embarrassment and hope is something you are cruel for giving someone. Where the money needed to fix our schools instead goes to arms manufacturers so we can blow up schools overseas. Where Christians kill. Where lovers lose their way. Where having a dream is a treatable diagnosis.

This is one screwed up planet.

Mediocrity as I watch the midnight pass

I'm sitting here, in a very quiet, very empty house. It is wickedly cold outside, and a few days ago someone said they would be showing up at midnight to kill the people living here.

Guess they need to reset their watches. Of course, if this is the last blog entry I make, I will feel a little silly for having made it.

Such are the risks of bravado.

I won't go into the details of how I ended up here, just suffice it to say I chose to be here. And, regardless of what does (or doesn't) happen over the next few hours, I'm good with it.

I was never much of a quitter, never one for running from a confrontation. A former boss said my problem was I fought all battles. He saw that as a problem. I saw that as a virtue. A man (or woman) who measures the likelihood of victory into the equation of which fights to fight isn't a very good person. Pragmatism is not a virtue. Neither is mediocrity, although I fight nearly daily battles against those whose very existence and financial well-being depends on it being accepted as a sign of excellence.

There are days I feel like Abraham, asking "If I can find 50 good people...?", "How about 45...?", "40?"

We have become a world of Salieris. Sigh.

Monday, February 05, 2007

Naked Faeries Invade the City

Sorry for the delay, today. I have been busy.

Amongst my other projects, we have the start of a full-on redesign of the City of Legends...

if you go to the main page at www.cityoflegends.com and click the link in the first section, you'll see three of my works, as interpreted by the lovely Shye.

We are working on integrating the works of other artists, photographers and models into the city...so if you are such an entity, bring it on!

Some semi-nudity involved on the pages I just put up, so...if you are offended at sexual content...what the hell are you ding on my website?

Sunday, February 04, 2007

The New Podcast is...

The new podcast is up and running!

Yes, a melancholy moment of romantic ennui, featuring the poems "The Faerie: Love", "Waiting for the Pentecost" and "She Dances Away When I Awake".

From Out of the City for February 4, 2007

Thanks to Shye for the inspiration and assistance. You can get dressed now.

My Superbowl Pick

Had to, people.

If Grossman throws for at least 200 yards or a Bears running back gets at least 100 yards, I predict the Bears will win. If neither condition comes true, the Colts will win.

I know that's just a conditional thing, but I have to call them as I see them, and the only wild card in this whole mess, as I see it, is the Bears' offense.

the insanity that is February 4th

Strange morning. Hey, it is February 4th. My baby brother Mark's 41st birthday.

Not just that. February 4th and May 3rd (my Mom's birthday) seem to be the strange days of my life. If I am going to make a life-changing decision, or an anvil is going to fall...that's the day. Unbelievable weirdness oozes from these days, and not always weirdness that I control, but streams that connect to me from outside forces (sometimes travelling seventy miles an hour...ouch!) when these days roll around.

So, here I am, making some changes. Many of which I can't talk about right now. On the plus side, it helps overcome inertia and wake the dragon

I will be putting together a podcast for tonight, for those of you seething because I haven't been doing it on a regular basis.

I will also give updates as I can. Let's just say some weird stuff is going down and I have to move into the eye of the storm to be most effective. Those of you in the know will appreciate this.

Those of you not on the inside? Well, sorry. Even Jaz is out in the cold on these moves.

Thanks to model-photographer Shye for her assistance in putting together some new designs for the City of Legends...I hope to unveil them later this week.

Saturday, February 03, 2007

Getting Pumped Up

Barring the "love or money" exceptions, I leave on June 1st for the

World Domination Tour, Part II

My goal is to team with local authors/poets in venues they know and love (and who know and love them) or with Barnes & Noble outlets, coast to coast. The tour will start in the East, sweep through the Midwest, then either tack north into the great plains or into the deep south before meeting the midway point of Amarillo, then West into West Texas, New Mexico, Nevada, Arizona and finally, California.

I have had some pleasant requests for company on the trip, but I think I will keep it all business. Last time I was dumb enough to allow such an on-tour distraction I ended up married to her.

Books and CDs will be sold. If the venue is a bookstore, such as a Barnes & Noble, we will work through their channels. If not, we'll do what we have to. Sponsored gigs (those that pay, if only enough to pay the transit and overnight) take precedence.

I want this to be a brutal endurance contest, to see if I still have what I once had, in terms of fire. I don;t really doubt it, but I've thrown downt he challenge to myself. Dates are still open...but I want to be able to settle the course by National Poetry Month, in April, so we can plug the hell out of it.

the slideshow at the MySpace page

I just added a slideshow to the poet's band's MySpace page, featuring the covers of all their CDs and the covers of his most worthy books. Sorry, the leopard's disaccommodation is old news, her covers are no longer in the official archives.

Here's the link for William F. DeVault and the Gods of Love. Special thanks to Slide for the free slideshow.

Imagine how different this show would look if the Leopard had not gotten herself exiled, if the original, smoking hot cover of "The Compleat Panther Cycles" had been used and if the model he wanted originally had made the cover of "Ronin in the Temple of Aphrodite". The mind boggles.

I wonder who the poor woman is going to be to bear the brunt of his repressed sexuality? I read his private writings...he grows more feral by the hour. The boy can only exorcise so many demons through his writing.

We should have a contest.

On an unrelated (but not totally) note...he has been talking about opening up the 'City to artists, models and photographers, allowing them to, free of charge, submit to be featured as the graphic representation of his works, one per poem page...this means dozens, even hundreds, of pictures would be needed. I want to see the photo that gets "leper's blood".

The Faroe Islands, according to the CIA

New international visitors, I see, in the City of Legends (I wonder whatever happened to that guy in Florida who was looking to acquire the domain from me? Never heard from him again. Must not have been very important.)

Countries that have checked in, passed through and stayed to read, in the last twenty four hours, include (aside from the good old USA):

Canada
New Zealand
Republic Of Korea
Sweden
Islamic Republic Of Iran
United Kingdom
China
Czech Republic
Faroe Islands

Faroe Islands? Yeah, I hadn't heard of them, either...so I did my research in the CIA "World Factbook". You check the entry out (and then the whole document) via this link. It's a great resource for information, lots and lots of information, on countries around the world. Plus, I've always wanted to say "CIA" and "Islamic Republic of Iran" in the same blog entry.

The Faroe Islands are part of the Kingdom of Denmark. That's fine, no problem. I knew this girl, back in college who was from Denmark, she had this...forget it...this is a PG rated blog.

They're an archipelago of islands, 17 inhabited, one uninhabited, with a surface about 8 times the size of Washington DC and about 47,000 inhabitants (twice the numbers of Morgantown, West Virginia). Only 2% of their land is suitable for farming. Their main resources seem to be fishing, whaling and possible oil and gas (uh oh, guess we have to invade them now).

Of course, once global warming is through with them, they'll be couple of rocky reefs in the way of ship traffic.

So what is someone from the Faroe Islands doing hanging around the City of Legends? Beats me. Maybe they just needed a Valentine Day poem. I'm more worried about the visitors from Iran. And Korea. A few days ago there were some Iraqi hits. Is the 'City about be adopted into the "Axis of Evil" (one of the most memorably stupid lines in the brief history of an historically stupid administration)?

Time will tell. I'm going to hide my weapons of mass destruction where I always have. In my pants.

Later, kids.

Friday, February 02, 2007

not a great day

Some days are rougher than others. The hardbound copy of '101 Great Love Poems' that I put on eBay did not sell. Nothing to be done but sell it via another means.

A couple of friends I usually correspond with dropped out of sight. Be patient.

The weather sucks. Such is life.

An internal client is upset with me because they think I've been bad-mouthing them. Allow them their outrage, defending oneself in these instances just makes matters worse.

Some extra work I had planned for the weekend has been pulled...after I cancelled my trip to see my boys, in part due to the weather, in part due to the work schedule.

Not one of my favourite days of all time. Some good things happened, as well, and perhaps when I have the vantage point of time and distance I will actually consider this one of the most wonderful days of my life.

We shall see. I am the eternal optimist.

43 minutes left on eBay

I must've missed something. People pay $25.00 for a copy of "101 Great Love Poems", particularly around this time of the year...but when I put an autographed copy of it on eBay, with an opening bid of one-half that, there's no bids.

Well, about 43 minutes from now, I get to reclaim it and sell it at face value. So, that's fine. Just revealing that I don't know jack about how to market. Anything.

The IPCC Report

Well, they're finally getting around to actually talking about global warming. In a world where leaders who call themselves persons of good moral character will kill another person's child over a profit margin on oil, did you really think they'd roll over and admit they'd screwed up? Not without a fight.

This new report by the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) of the United Nations is solid and direct and basically lays it out that we cannot stop the juggernaut, but we can slow it down and brace for it.

Reports are being edited down and modified, trying to soften this "inconvenient truth" so that those in power do not look like the genocidal bastards or ignorant lemmings they are. No one wants to look so bad while staring into a future so terrifying. But we're past the stage of whistling past the graveyard.

I admit I was not among the first on the environmental bandwagon. I wasn't one of the worst, but I should have lent my voice to the cause long ago. Would it have mattered for much? Who knows? Sometimes even one more vote, one more voice, one more word is all that is required to reach the tipping point.

Politically, here in the US, this is going to be exploited. Individuals who have any record of support for environmental causes will be aided. All we need is another Katrina-level event in the next year and the Democratic Party will probably have to consider drafting Al Gore as their candidate for President. Why not? He won the last time he ran. That a Supreme Court of historic corruption chose to disenfranchise enough voters to crown their benefactor's son does not change that.

I do not want my children and my grandchildren to inherit a planet unfit for their survival. Let's see what we can do. Now.

Thursday, February 01, 2007

more evolved lyric...

this life is the killing jar
the fumes entomb the pretty winged things
in a colourless cloud of feral sterility
to block the sun from clouding eyes.
everything dies. everyone lies
if only to themselves.
singing the red dragon blues.

new sounds from an old guitar
that weave a spell, a shell from hell we sell
to people who pass us on the street
the sound of their feet, pityless.
take a guess. come and bless
this sacrilege we wage.
singing the red dragon blues.

I don't make a promise but I have made a plan
that will see me through till the night
I once gave it all up to drink an empty cup
and I'm still waiting round for the light

the fires climb higher and the ashes compile
into mountains we scale with pride
I'm somewhere still out there, my feet keeping the time
I penance the lover who cried.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

It's coming along. Time to maybe make some changes, not to me...but to my world. See you in the alternaverse.

the killing jar...early lines...

this life is the killing jar
the fumes entomb the pretty winged things
in a colourless cloud of feral sterility
to block the sun from clouding eyes...

the killing jar

opening line to new poem...

"this life is the killing jar"

Copyright © William F. DeVault | All Rights Reserved