Sunday Morning, and All That Jazz

Okay...enough. I've caught up on my sleep, forced myself to re-read my most recent scribblings and listen to my recordings, and feel a bit better. Probably just another classic case of over-extension (you have no idea how many irons I keep in the fire from moment to moment...I recently joked that Jaz leads a double or triple life...then I lead the life of the faceted sphere of my old series of poems (Know how many facets a diamond has? 58 in the "modern round brilliant cut. Slacker.)).

I'm working with a new protege (she knows who she is) and her work is extremely evocative. It reads like much of my work from about a decade ago. Which of course creates an emotional time warp in my head. Add to that the nakedly emotional and somewhat erotic aspect of some of her work and it is like running an obstacle course: Exhilarating but still exhausting.

But if you don't get tired, you aren't doing anything.

I sat down an re-watched "All That Jazz" the other evening, which also tunnels inside my psyche. I mentioned the film the other day as my favourite and someone asked me to talk about the film, so I will, in brief, right here.

Bob Fosse, for those of you unfamiliar with the man, was a director and choreographer who is considered one of the giants of broadway. Seen "Chicago"? That was the musical he was working on when he had a heart attack and the modern version of it still bears many of his stylistic earmarks. Paula Abdul's video "Cold Hearted Snake" is an homage to a scene from this movie entitled "Air-rotica". He directed "Cabaret" and "Lenny" as well as several other films. The list goes on and on and on.

This film is Fosse's self-indictment of the creative artist as a self-destructive asshole. His lead character Joe Gideon, played to an Academy Award (the film won 5 Oscars) nomination by Roy Scheider, is a choreographer and director who can't keep himself out of trouble with his womanizing, his drinking and his pills. He's flirting with death, literally (played by Jessica Lange in the role that brought her back from the career disaster that was "King Kong") and running out of time. The only thing in this life he cares about, besides his art, is his 12 year old daughter Michelle (Coincidentally, my daughter's middle name. No, not coincidentally.).

We watch him editing a new movie he directed (based on his experiences editing the film "Lenny), organizing a new Broadway show and being an ass to his girlfriend Katie, played by actress/dancer and all-around lust-object Ann Reinking, who was Fosse's girlfriend at the time the events this movie is based on actually occurred. It must have been strange for her to go through on screen some of the same things she went through in real life.

The musical numbers in this film serve two functions: First, many of them are necessary to show us his work and creative process (the "Air-rotica" sequence is a cathartic moment for him, where he can depict on stage the futility of his libido. The second function is to provide us with elaborately staged hallucinations when he is struck down by a heart attack, depicting his own awareness of his own failings as a person, a husband and a father.

In real life, Fosse survived the heart attack, and Chicago made it to the stage. Although Fosse's original vision of the song "Razzle Dazzle" being an orgy on the courthouse steps was changed (yes, kids, "Air-rotica" was for real). The finale to the film features a near-death Joe Gideon being joined by Ben Vereen for a recap of his miserable life, in an elaborate staged version of "Bye Bye Love" renamed "Bye Bye Life". I have asked the song to be played at my funeral.

So there it is...

A malefic ennui?

The poet sent me an email earlier that said simply

"A malefic ennui descends and I am going back into my cage for the time being."

Okay, who has been aggravating him this time? I welcome his more epic moods, he writes well (just look at all that his adoration of Jaz has wrought) from them. Just wanting to see who to blame or credit for the next wave of existential angst.

I have been working on an update to the page of his website that analyzes his muses, especially now that we have a new one (Will he just pick one and stick with her for the rest of his life? I hate editing the damn page.) I'm trying to get him to submit to an interview on the topic of his current a-muse-ment, but he is being coy. I think she is another who accepts the crown but then doesn't know what to do with it and that makes him undesirous of commenting too much (remember the Panther? she had two gears: overdrive and reverse...I am amazed he's alive).

LA will be good for him. The sooner he is back "home" the better. He'll relax, he'll find himself a nice loft weasel and get laid. A lot. Then write wonderfully overwrought poetry about the pain of giving up on love for the necessity of the comfort of sex (see Luscher, Max).

Nah. The first woman he sleeps with, having gone this far, he'll fall in love with, that's why he's being so cautious. He's only really opened up to one woman in what, three years? He's set himself up for a disaster to rival Brigit (the crimson panther), who saved him from his addiction to the Panther (the black panther), then immediately started screwing around on him (it is a lot more complicated than that, but why go into it all?). We won't even go into the cluster that was his marriage to the Leopard (the golden panther?). Maybe he should rename his new muse the Tiger, or the Jaguar, or the Tabby? Maybe the purple panther? Or maybe the Leopard was not the golden panther of his dream, just a convenient illusion (he said as much in one long email he wrote me, once, on that topic). My head hurts, and I didn't know hardly any of these players, imagine what it must be like to live in the brainsoup of remembering every word and action and moment.

God love him, he's fulfilled his poem "TESTAMENT": He's the last of his breed, the first of his species. That has to be a painful and lonely perch, on the cliffs above Kyrienar. He's earned his "malefic ennui" (I had to look it up).

finding yourself in a fresh bed

It is curious to note how different women approach me. Some bearing gifts (or gifs). Some with great opening lines, some with earnest expressions of interest in my work or my person. Some with questions, some with rules. Some thanking me for pasts that never were, some challenging me to futures not to be. Some only reaching out when they want a handout, some only when they know they are welcome, some passing through to lob a few stray kisses and leave behind their attar, like a scar on a lonely heart. One forbidding me buying her gifts. Another only talks to me when she needs a favour.

It's a complicated universe. Mostly because we are all so busy hiding behind illusions and constructions that we forget who we are. If you tell yourself a lie often enough, you start to believe it. When you sit still and ask yourself some honest questions, sometimes reality comes into focus and it doesn't look a lot like what you thought it was a minute, an hour, a year, a decade, a lifetime ago.

And, believe it or not, that is exciting. A close friend recently said she was trying to find herself. I understand that, I know so many people who have invoked those very words (I try to avoid them, as they are very cliche and I try to avoid cliches like the plague). I wish her well on the journey, but it is the acres of diamonds journey. Usually we already have who we are, we just didn't believe it, and start our search by journeying as far away from ourselves as possible, thinking this will cleanse the emotional palate and revitalize our tired eyes. I know most who I am when I shut down the outside world and meditate (yes, Lauri, I meditate) on the essence of who I am. It's funny, I can;t recall an interview where an interviewer really asked who I am...they usually open with "Who did you write this poem about?" or "Did you ever sleep with anyone famous?" (I chide them that anyone I sleep with becomes famous...)

I just got through wrenching out another song (yes, I've dropped the pretense, even though my vocals are closer to dramatic spoken word readings than singing, these one-eyed humpbacked crossbreeds of music and poetry are songs...) I used the new poem "Skyscraper Ambition" (one metaphoric hint: Jaz is very tall) and found the right guitar riff and bass line and drums to impart the sexual malevolence implicit in what I wrote (kids, this poem is not about visiting the big city...unless there's someone waiting for you in your hotel room there with lustful intentions).

I'll share it later, after I am through futzing around with the final mix. Again, thanks for the inspiration...I know you have trouble sometimes figuring out what to do with the crown you accepted, but just relax...no one here means you any harm. Unless, of course, that's something you'd like. (grin)

a quick tour of the soundfield

I was going over the files resident at archive.org that I have recorded, and thought I should share my list of what I think are the cream:

Centaur A sweet piece of electronica, romantic and simple. Inspired by Jaz. (02:34)

Beasts of Legend A melodic arc of several pieces, "My Electric Lady", "Brisant Revelations", "Shards of Light", "Radiant Tigers", "aureate", "Pellinore, watching from across the room" and "glass roses". The build is incredible, the guitar makes the hair on the back of my neck still stand up after a hundred listenings, I put the damn thing together and admit...the drum to guitar lead-in to "Radiant Tigers" may be the best intro I'll ever do. Inspired by Psyche, the Leopard, Brigit, the Panther, The Mad Gypsy, Alisha and Abstra. Beasts of legend, you bet. (15:29)

DARFUR (Jesus Wept) Whatever your politics, if you do not accept our complicity and the necessity of Western intervention in this humanitarian crisis, you should be ashamed of yourself. (04:10)

Bragi to Freya, on his deathbed Beatnik style read with intro. A little hazy on the engineering side, but that's part of the organic nature of it. (03:11)

Kisses for Karma Despite the horns that jump out from behind the sofa at the 01:35 mark, I think it is a solid read with nice music. Plus, it is a meaningful piece to me, the eternal self-questioning when courting. (03:15)

Chrysalis From the "Pink Jade" works...a piece about an earnest lover's oath to do what is best for his intended. (01:54)

Mood Romantique Minimalist music (if a touch too loud) to a surprisingly eloquent and testosterone-laced reading of "Soubrette", "The Patchwork Skirt of My Love", "Damascus III", "From Out of the City" and "Cithara Song, strummed lightly as the sun leaps the horizon". Pieces inspired by the Leopard, the Goldenheart, the Leopard, Abstra and Alisha. (06:40)

Valentine's Day 2006: Romantic Mood A nice swirl of jazz-tinged recitation of several works: "The Unicorns", "Sacred Smile", "Monument", "Damascus III", "The Patchwork Skirt of My Love", "Tread Softly", "Love Gods of a Forgotten Religion", "We Owe Debt to Memory", "A Kiss is an Act of Bravery" and "Soubrette". Inspired by Psyche, the Leopard, Psyche, the Leopard, the Goldenheart, Psyche, Brigit, Abstra, Selke and the Leopard. (20:24)

All in all, just under an hour worth of listening. There's a few other pieces I might suggest, and a lot of the stuff I host there is podcasts, which started very raw and thus I am kinda/sorta embarrassed whn they are listened to, but ts part of this history and the mystery.