back to the race for that big, white house on Pennsylvania Avenue...what do they call it?

It looks like Ralph Nader is going to throw his rumpled, self-important hat back in the ring to run for President. The guy needs to find a nice tree, cut it down, make a center pillar and a crossbar and get someone not nail him to it. He obviously has that strain of senility that manifests itself as a Messiah complex.

His self-indulgent headline grabbing, which initially was for the common good...40 years ago when he was outing the Detroit auto industry's safety record...now drives him to sabotage national elections because he lacks the fiber to work within the system to accomplish change. In the mean time he allows real issues to go unaddressed so he can feel he still has a voice and a purpose in this world.

Lacking any real shot at winning, he wants to make sure the game is unplayable for others. Or, at least certain others.

I am one of those people who doesn't hesitate to point out that had he not insisted on this very conduct eight years ago, we might have been spared 9/11, the War in Iraq and an economy that went from record surpluses to record deficits while gas prices tripled. And President Gore might have gotten us a running start on Global Warming action, against a threat that even now may challenge the survival of modern society and the human species.

The two party system is lame, superficial and self-destructive? Yes. Most of the leaders are self-important boobs who either know they are sucking from the common teat rather than get a real job or have deluded themselves into thinking they are making real change and progress while being compromised agents of, at best, inertia.

That Ralphie boy may be about to dive in to a race where he can deny this country its first black or female President isn't lost on most people. Ralph is prepared to wave his hand-drawn banners of legitimacy and self-delusion, ensuring that the line of white, male Presidents is an unbroken one.

The attitudes of his generation is one of the last real barriers to a better society, where it isn't astonishing to find women, blacks, Hispanics, or any other historically disenfranchised group playing leadership roles and making sure that issues are addressed that need to be addressed for all Americans.

I have nothing against John McCain, I think he has served this country honorably and well and would make a decent President, certainly better than the one we are about to relegate to the pages of a groaning history. If he is the nominee of his party I will give him a listen. But to place him in office purely because he is a white male shows that the hard work of people of real historical purpose and sacrifice, like Bobby and Jack Kennedy, Martin Luther King Jr. and Susan B. Anthony still has a long way to sink in.

Paint it any way you want. Nader running for President is not progressive. I encourage those of good conscience to not donate to his campaign, to discourage him from doing this again, and from seeking to keep women and blacks in the back of the (now made overseas) bus.

more wonderful

Wonderful finishes your sentences for you. Before you even start them.

Wonderful fixes the typos in your comments, without comment. And knows what you said, not just that you said something. She can criticize what you say or think without criticizing who you are, and wants to know what you think.

Wonderful wants you to be the first person she talks to every morning, and the last one every night. And when she talks about things that from other people would bore or annoy you, you find it fascinating, because it is a part of who she is.

Wonderful has seen you at your worst. And still would take that over anyone at their best. She finds your quirks charming.

Wonderful has a way of changing the tone of her voice that tells you, without words, that she wants to play. And she talks, when she is tired, in a slow, husky voice that makes you want to hold her until she falls asleep.

Wonderful gives of herself, and is pleasantly surprised when she gets in return, because she gives, she loves, without obligation.

Which is the way wonderful things are supposed to be. Evidence of God.

belief

"He is dead in this world who has no belief in another."
- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

belief

and so I live.
taken from my tomb into your womb
and nourished in your love and trust.
dust, dust cannot define me anymore
for I soar on wings of light and more,
more than mere dreams of kiss and words.

transfiguration.
I am the flaming butterfly in the dark,
sparks of red deeper than scarlet fly
like I do, obeying laws of nature regent
in a sphere the size of the eyes of God,
God who made you to the purpose of my heart.

there are martyrs
who did not believe as fiercely in their cause
as I do in you, belief relieving doubts that sprouted
horns and torn holes in my own shroud of clouds
in the new heavens that rose like fireflies
on the winds of night to convince me to live.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

five o'clock in the morning

It's early. I should probably be asleep, but the time-difference between here and Johannesburg has turned my early-rising tendencies into habit and I find myself rising before the sun and all else, daily.

Such is a pitfall of a love affair with someone half-a-world away.

But it makes certain things strangely better, and distances have a tendency to melt with time and effort and resolve.

footnote to a grey afternoon

Ever have one of those days when everything seems to be going wrong? Yeah, me, too. But I am keeping a good attitude (well, as best I can).

the retirement of the graven images

For those of you who missed the announcement, I am retiring the totem-muses. That's roughly on a par with Picasso retiring people with their noses in the wrong place or Peckinpah declaring he's going forward on bloodless action sequences. Y'know, sort of a distinctive feature, if not a trademark.

I took my cue from a chapter in the Bible, I Corinthians 13, often referred to as the "love chapter". Depending on the translation you are into, the actual verbiage changes a bit, but courtesy of the King James Version, the passage that beings at Verse 8(which refers to there no longer being need of prophecy or speaking in tongues in a fulfilled Gospel) states:

"Love never fails.
But where there are prophecies, they will cease;
where there are tongues, they will be stilled;
where there is knowledge, it will pass away.
For we know in part and we prophesy in part,
but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears.
When I was a child,
I talked like a child,
I thought like a child,
I reasoned like a child.
When I became a man,
I put childish ways behind me.
Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror;
then we shall see face to face.
Now I know in part;
then I shall know fully,
even as I am fully known."

That struck me. All this time I had used the concept of the totem muse to add dimension where there was some needed, or to obscure things that, were the love real, would not be needed to be hidden. Some were given their totems to just level the playing field when they felt they deserved a totem, some to keep their real identities a secret.

But in my new love, I found someone who has aspect, who has talents and dimensions all her own, and is unafraid of confessing her love and having me confess mine.

Now, I am a man. I fully know, even as I am fully known. Several of the totem-muses used the mask of their totem to hide behind when they grew weary or frightened of the readers who sometimes judged them. There is no room, in love, for cowardice, for love makes you strong and vulnerable all at once.

I have found my gospel of love fulfilled.

the big reveal, part one

I came out today to my family with the details of my new relationship with (expurgated) and all the nitty-gritty details of our burgeoning (is that the right word) romance.

Reaction was as expected...David and Mark said nothing immediately, Becky's email was returned as I don't have her latest email address, Robert wanted to know how Mom reacted and my parents were very supportive and unconditional, if cautious.

Gimme some red-eye

This is a little article I posted on Authors Den, nearly 4 years ago. It's a strange topic for me, as a lifelong teetotaler, but I have this innate curiosity.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It's hard to see a Western film without a saloon scene. And It's tough to see a saloon scene where at least one character doesn't swagger up to the bar and demand "Red Eye" as his drink of choice.

When I was a kid, I always thought it was a brand name, like Coca Cola or Dr. Pepper. Nope.

Red Eye was an uniquely Western concoction, generally brewed by the saloon keeper in keeping with general guidelines, but with their own twist and flair.

Yes, brewed, or rather, steeped. Think of it like making tea. Or nitroglycerin.

The base recipe went something like this: Take the cheapest, purest form of alcohol you can lay your hands on, "not for human consumption grade" grain alcohol will do fine. Dump it in a tub or vat.

Throw in any or all of the following:

- Coffee Grounds (used is okay)
- Cigarette Butts (ick!)
- Chewing Tobacco (a few blocks)
- Tea Bags or Loose Tea (rare, but when short on coffee...)

Let it soak overnight. Strain into bottles. Charge a buck a shot.

The usual ingredients ensured you would get grain + tobacco + caffeine for a potent kick that would either wake you up or lay you out. No statistics were ever kept on how many cowpokes downed a couple and then needed an escort for the trip to Boot Hill.

Think about it: You now have several armed men, all wired on nicotine, caffeine and alcohol, standing around with a desperate need for money and women. You could've made a fortune as a town doctor back then, just patching the guys from the bar fights.

Considering the market out there, I'm sort of amazed no one is making and bottling it today...Gee, I wonder how the FDA would feel about it?

Me, I'm sticking to Diet Dr. Pepper.

the envy of the petals

the envy of the petals

I will lay you down on a bed of rose petals
that they may know envy.
for they cannot match your scent and beauty
and will have to settle
for being just a shade more red
than the lips I kiss in earnest surrender.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

the next book

I let slip a few weeks back that I am working on a new project. Like I ever am not working on a new project? Gheeze, people? Have you learned nothing?

New book? Hell, yes. Poetry collection, expect it in a little over two months. Working title is "1 Minute to Midnight". That, of course, is subject to change.

The title of the volume comes from a poem I wrote to my lady love just moments before midnight on December 31st. If you want to read it, the links is One Minute to Midnight, New Years Eve 2007.

Enjoi. She liked it. A lot.

Meanwhile, I am slaving away on my other projects. I have a big year planned. No. Not a big year. Take 1973, 1979, 1981, 1995, 1996, 1997, 2003, 2006 and 2007, put them in the blender and mix thoroughly. Pour the essence into a mold. Let dry, fill with dreams and nightmares undared, you have 2008.

At the end of the day at the end of the year, I want to hear the echoes from my sonic booms. Then, I will be almost content.

Almost.

The Gypsy Faerie in the Meadow

The Gypsy Faerie in the Meadow
a Villanelle for Lucy on her 17th birthday

How lays beauty born of gentle presence like soft echo?
Dreams and notions unrequited yet by futures that wait.
Your subtle grace, your smiling face, dancing to music's flow.

And well you know the sweet attar of hope's most golden glow
like fruit just ripe in an orchard where blooms a prayer of fate.
How lays beauty born of gentle presence like soft echo?

Life spins like seeds falling from trees, caught in the wind's blow
that will carry them to ventures beyond the field and gate:
Your subtle grace, your smiling face, dancing to music's flow.

May stones never play as pillows in your travels - you go
softly from each verdant field and meadow, a fair estate.
How lays beauty born of gentle presence like soft echo?

Gypsy faerie, a wisp of myth and a marvel, we know
you dance on moss and stones cool to the night, an honest trait.
Your subtle grace, your smiling face, dancing to music's flow.

The sweet flowers weep for your attentions, for well they know
they are but shadow of your glamour, your grace they await.
How lays beauty born of gentle presence like soft echo?
Your subtle grace, your smiling face, dancing to music's flow.


William F. DeVault

Happy Birthday, Lucy. Your mother and I wish you the best of adventures in this life. Love, magic and joy all your days.

Poetry Out Loud

I just got off the phone with a nice lady who invited myself to be the MC for the Poetry Out Loud competition in mid-March in Charleston, WV.

I accepted.

From what I understand, the competition is the state preliminary to the national competition for poetry recitation by high school students. This should be interesting.

I'll give out more information as I get it. This will be my first "official" appearance EVER in the Mountain State. Go figure.

fortune favours the brave

I know I have been cruel and evasive regarding the muse who has won my heart and hand (this has even resulted in some rather perverse email from individuals who are furious, curious or just plain nuts).

She and I are discussing the when and the how to announce her name (she actually thinks I could use it as a marketing gimmick for my next book, which is intriguing...).

Trust me in that you will love her, not as I love her (which would mean I have to scowl at you and warn you away) but with an acceptance and a recognition that this is a well-met match. We have known each other for years and have only recently found we have spent much of that time thinking the other unapproachable. She is charming and bright and accomplished in her own write (<----note, hint) and I love her "something awful" (I know she wanted to use that line from "Moonstruck" first, I stole it).

Fortune favours the brave. Here's to the lovers and a serenity I had not known.

a major announcement

I am sorry if I have been inattentive of you, my dear reader...a combination of the holidays, a nagging cold and a blossoming romance have all kept me off my usual hyperkinetic arc.

I do have an announcement to make...the name of my fiancee is...

(lol) you don;t think I'd be that easy, do you...duh!

Actually my announcement is that, effective immediately, the name of the band I record with is changing. We were originally going to call ourselves Kathleen Turner Overdrive (a tip of the hat to a fine movie...). No, actually, from this day forth, throughout all known land, the band formerly known as William F. DeVault and the Gods of Love will be known as

Amomancer.

Let's face it, you knew the day was coming, it was just a matter of time.

Oh, regarding the Iowa Caucuses...yes, I am a Hillary Clinton supporter, no I do not think Obama would make a bad President, he would be my second choice. But...let's recall that some other Clinton lost Iowa in 1992...and we know he was never heard from again. So, all due respect to the Hawkeye State...the rest of the country would like a say.

Moonstruck in the real world

One of my favourite films of all time has to be "Moonstruck", a great romantic film starring Cher and Nicolas Cage.

And one of the cutest scenes is where Loretta (Cher) goes in to confession to admit she has just slept with Ronnie (Nicolas Cage) the brother of her fiancee.

Loretta Castorini:
"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been two months since my last confession."

Priest:
"What sins have you to confess?"

Loretta Castorini:
"Twice I took the name of the Lord in vain, once I slept with the brother of my fiancee, and once I bounced a check at the liquor store, but that was really an accident."

Priest:
"Then it's not a sin. But... what was that second thing you said, Loretta?"

Why am I bringing this up? A good friend of mine asked me yesterday what I'd been up to lately and my response was:

"I finished the final edits on a book, proposed marriage and went in to visit my family over the holidays."

His reaction was a pause followed by..."What was that second thing you said?"

Somethings are too big to hide. Now, as long as she doesn't sleep with any of my brothers, we have a good shot at a happy ending. Oh, and even my family hasn't been told, so, Hi, Mom!