Sunday, April 26, 2009


the game, originally uploaded by Justin Davis Davanzo.

here i sit drinking a beer thinking of words to write...words to say. What are they all about these words? Funny as I have been learning to write in my life, there never seems to be a moment when this is mastered...i mean the writing thing. I have a writing ego that hates editing...this i have discovered in the last week upon receiving the hardcopy of my book and realizing, with the help of some close few, that, yes the book is fantastic and great and fun and all, but....oh no...a typo...another one...shit...and so i sat and sat and with the help of an editor (my mom and Nita)...i have spent probably a total of 10 hours pouring through and changing and addressing...and the whole time i had to fight the urge to not be mad at myself...strange. I still have about half of the book to continue with and as Nita and I walked over a small mountain this morning, i actually felt ok about the whole thing. as a matter of fact i felt better and they were and are right...a piece of work deserves the chance to be as polished as possible. It feels nice to know that i worked so hard on it and now i am able to step back, with some self editing, and work on it from a higher place of honor. ok this experience has taught me to slow down and to not take it personally. I find it hard anytime in life to hear the reality of things and not get pissed about might be my Sicilian temper or, oh i don't just feels slightly silly when i really think about it. Why get so worked up? because it is personal that is why. And when things are personal, it is hard to separate from it...

the important thing is that this kind of thing teaches us that we CAN do it...we can do things that seem difficult to accomplish. I am by no means tooting my horn but I am giving credit where credit is those who write for a living and those who play music for a know what i mean...its that feeling of doing something that you have always wanted to do and put it off and put it off, and then when you actually do realize; that wasn't so horrible. Not to say it wasn't challenging and emotional, and frustrating as hell sometimes...because it was...but in the end, one realizes: If I can do this, what is next??? Imagine what i can do now....i have read sometimes that if you talk about what you are going to do, it takes the energy away from it. I can understand that, but I also see another side of that....when I say it, the universe holds me to telling others and talking about it, you have to come through because those you have told are expecting it...not expecting from a place of pressure, but from a place of excitement and support...and with that support, and the vocalization of your endeavor...I think it actually gives power to your journey. Am i making any sense? I am drinking beer and eating pizza and listening to the very young college students in front of me discuss they know what the fuck they are talking about...was that mean? oh fine...i was there too..but sometimes i can't believe it....i see now the wisdom of age and how it makes the elders more mellow..they can't possiby take things seriously and they must laugh at our young i am doing now...i hear it and it makes me know what one of them just said??? "oh my gosh, my english teacher is like...i don't know...35 years old...and she is so lame..." ummmm, i am 37...excuse me young lady....

ok..i digress and i say things that are silly and mean sometimes...i am in a stream of writing and cannot stop so now I am on to other things and the idea that life is so small, yet so perfectly designed amazes me....for example: two people 9 years apart can find each other in a maze of dreams, disappointments, trials, travels, broken hearts and the general maze we call life...

pizza typing.
so there...

this is Sunday, April 26 2009.

i end with a poem...or something to that effect...i call it Wild Mind.
Natalie Goldberg's book...a must for any writer.

here goes...

pizza. there is a walnut and some pesto. it tastes good.
i love to eat pizza and talk about things to come.
my life is magic and real and unbelievable
and lions will carry me down the golden path of this caged world and release me into the wild to hunt and be hunted..but wait, who hunts lions? Man...they kill lions...but lions are Kings of the Beasts so how is that possible? i don't know, but here is the thing. When riding on the back of a lion you grab the mane and hold on and wish that you were small because then you would fully believe in fairies and goblins and witches, like that moment when i watched the Wizard of Oz and was scared when the flying monkeys took Dorothy away. But wait, there is a lion in that...a Cowardly Lion and his tail twitches on its own accord and the Scarecrow loves Dorothy and the Tin Man needs oil and in the end Dorothy goes home...huh? wait, the lion...the lion...i am on the lion in the Serengetti and the dust is light and yellow and thick in my lungs and the smell of my steed is one of majestic power and knowledge and then i see.... i see me in the oasis of the desert that is my life. Who brought me here? why did they bring me here? does that mean I am thirsty or is it that i finally opened my eyes to the pool of water in front of me that only the Lion could take me to?
the lion....his paws are huge and soft and they bristle with dirt.

i wish i had paws like that.....i wish I had a mane...i wish i could sleep on the plains with the heat slowly sliding off my sweet back. it is all here...all right now, the lion and the witch and the wardrobe...wait, that is a different story all together, but another lion? so there...Tanzania and the Lion and the Tin Man...the Tin Man needs oil.....

The lion inside me sleeps sweetly and safely and i do not remember where I came from, i just know that I am here.

Wild Mind.

Love and Understanding.

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