I know it hurts sometimes, but perhaps, just for today, you’d be willing consider the idea that your heart aching (and maybe even breaking) is actually the beginning of something beautiful happening: Maybe it’s your ego cracking and your heart is about to burst open.
What I want to say to you now is if you’re stuck in the darkness; wallowing in this viciously depressive state, incanting numerous negative things to yourself and latching onto every possible limiting belief you can conjure, there is another way. I know it feels lonely and you probably feel pissed off and swindled and misunderstood and broken, but I promise you: There is a glowing light inside you that can never be dimmed. There is, even right now, a beaming joyful life force more radiant than a thousand suns capable of making you see who you really are.
You, My Beloved Friend, are a Cosmic Happening rooted in local event. You are a way for this gorgeous Universe to see itself. In fact, whether you believe it or not, every damn fiber of your damn being is gorgeous and holy and forged in the furnace of a thousand suns. And guess what? You’re not Broken. Not by a damn long shot.
And Look - Just so we’re clear.. I’m a mess, too. And I realize this 5am rant makes very little sense to most of you. I can accept that and I still love you because you're Rad. But, if you glean nothing else from this emotive madness, please just know that I’m trying to tell you that you’re f*cking Beautiful and you are Loved more than you could possibly imagine.
And I’ll go even further. It doesn’t matter what you’ve done. It doesn’t matter what you can’t let go of. It doesn’t matter what you’re afraid to admit out loud. You Deserve To Be Loved.
Change starts in one moment, in one day. Why not make it today? What a day to learn to love the mess you are and embrace every bit of it. Because I do. I freaking Love you and, let me reaffirm: you deserve to be loved. So, come on.. Just try for it today. Just stand up and Be Loved. And, if you have the energy to move it on down the line, love the f*ck out of someone else, too.
Tuesday, April 18, 2017
Wednesday, March 15, 2017
Ode To The Bird..
Few things make me as embarrassingly sentimental as the game of Baseball. I could wax on the mythopoetics and strange superstitions of the game I love for days. But if you want to ever see me get teary-eyed, ask me about Mark "The Bird" Fidrych. He represented everything I love about Baseball, joy and the resiliency of the human spirit.
Fidrych had one unforgettable breakout rookie season before injuries quickly derailed the most promising of careers. He went from being a household name, playing the one game he loved with all his heart, to never being able to recover that groove again. The fleeting joy “The Bird” had authored over one beautiful Bicentennial summer would slip from his fingers within four injury-riddled years after that remarkable rookie campaign.
Not that he didn’t try. He labored in the minors for a couple seasons before finally hanging up his glove.
I can only imagine how hard that must have been; being forced to leave it all behind. I can imagine him clinging to the hope, desperately hanging on to the margins, believing he could somehow still Will that ball to do the magical things it used to and baffle hitters the way he did in ‘76. I can see him in my mind: working hard to get back, trying to throw a few decent pitches without wincing in pain, pitches that might allow you to move back across that chalk line and back onto that beautiful major league mound, back into the only world you ever really loved.
But, like most pie-in-the-sky dreams, his great comeback would never come to fruition. He faded away from Baseball (though he is still beloved by die-hard fans of the Detroit Tigers) and, sadly, died in a tragic accident on his Northborough, Mass. farm in April of 2009.
But in my heart, he stands there forever: cleaning the mound, talking to the ball, high-fiving his teammates after every play. Mark Fidrych played the game like a Little Leaguer, with as much joy as a grown man can possibly display on a major league diamond.
In my heart, "The Bird" is still warming up on the mound at Tiger Stadium, with forty thousand rapturously joyous fans ready to cheer his every move like it was the 7th game of the World Series. So, if you're so inclined, familiarize yourself with my hero: Mark "The Bird" Fidrych, who left both the game he loved and this world, far too soon. Behold, Fidrych: the all-time single season leader in childlike joy..
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cS8tIOQD1cQ
Fidrych had one unforgettable breakout rookie season before injuries quickly derailed the most promising of careers. He went from being a household name, playing the one game he loved with all his heart, to never being able to recover that groove again. The fleeting joy “The Bird” had authored over one beautiful Bicentennial summer would slip from his fingers within four injury-riddled years after that remarkable rookie campaign.
Not that he didn’t try. He labored in the minors for a couple seasons before finally hanging up his glove.
I can only imagine how hard that must have been; being forced to leave it all behind. I can imagine him clinging to the hope, desperately hanging on to the margins, believing he could somehow still Will that ball to do the magical things it used to and baffle hitters the way he did in ‘76. I can see him in my mind: working hard to get back, trying to throw a few decent pitches without wincing in pain, pitches that might allow you to move back across that chalk line and back onto that beautiful major league mound, back into the only world you ever really loved.
But, like most pie-in-the-sky dreams, his great comeback would never come to fruition. He faded away from Baseball (though he is still beloved by die-hard fans of the Detroit Tigers) and, sadly, died in a tragic accident on his Northborough, Mass. farm in April of 2009.
But in my heart, he stands there forever: cleaning the mound, talking to the ball, high-fiving his teammates after every play. Mark Fidrych played the game like a Little Leaguer, with as much joy as a grown man can possibly display on a major league diamond.
In my heart, "The Bird" is still warming up on the mound at Tiger Stadium, with forty thousand rapturously joyous fans ready to cheer his every move like it was the 7th game of the World Series. So, if you're so inclined, familiarize yourself with my hero: Mark "The Bird" Fidrych, who left both the game he loved and this world, far too soon. Behold, Fidrych: the all-time single season leader in childlike joy..
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cS8tIOQD1cQ
Tuesday, January 17, 2017
"Is A Dream A Lie If It Don't Come True, Or Is It Something Worse?"
When I was probably 12 years old, I started to spend the money I earned doing little odd jobs on records. I had memories of growing up listening to the "Born In The USA" record in my Dad's truck a few years earlier. It was the one thing, besides Baseball, that we could always agree on and talk about.
That summer, over the course of two days, I brought home two used records by Bruce Springsteen and The E Street Band: "The River" and "Darkness On The Edge Of Town." I probably bought them, in a way, to try desperately to somehow be closer to my Dad, who was drifting further and further away. The kicker is: It brought me closer to Knowing Myself than anything else I'd ever come across. Both records were an absolute game changer for me. I sat there, headphones on, mesmerized by the vivid imagery of an America I longed for in my heart; a place where men found meaning through faith and work and wore their hearts on their sleeves.
Springsteen's music whispered "strap on your boots, keep fighting for what you believe in, the magic is gonna find you, you're gonna be alright." It made me realize that you could strip away the layers of the fashion show and be vulnerable and honest, that you could pour your own heart and story into the music and it would be better for it. It was like a sonic salvation or a rock n' roll baptism, peppered with acoustic heartache and the kind of raw sincerity that was so lacking in the pop music I heard on the radio. It sounds ridiculous, but those records were also a revelation because they helped me to begin to understand that it was possible to use music to navigate through the dark spaces of my own life until that sacred light emerged emerge and the healing waters soothed me. It was church for me.
There were many years after that, listening to punk rock or God Knows what else, that I was too cool to admit to liking the E Street Band. But no matter where I've been in my life, no matter what I was struggling with or evolving into becoming, I could always throw my headphones on and find my way back to Church to Feel The Real.
And the older I get, the more it means..
That summer, over the course of two days, I brought home two used records by Bruce Springsteen and The E Street Band: "The River" and "Darkness On The Edge Of Town." I probably bought them, in a way, to try desperately to somehow be closer to my Dad, who was drifting further and further away. The kicker is: It brought me closer to Knowing Myself than anything else I'd ever come across. Both records were an absolute game changer for me. I sat there, headphones on, mesmerized by the vivid imagery of an America I longed for in my heart; a place where men found meaning through faith and work and wore their hearts on their sleeves.
Springsteen's music whispered "strap on your boots, keep fighting for what you believe in, the magic is gonna find you, you're gonna be alright." It made me realize that you could strip away the layers of the fashion show and be vulnerable and honest, that you could pour your own heart and story into the music and it would be better for it. It was like a sonic salvation or a rock n' roll baptism, peppered with acoustic heartache and the kind of raw sincerity that was so lacking in the pop music I heard on the radio. It sounds ridiculous, but those records were also a revelation because they helped me to begin to understand that it was possible to use music to navigate through the dark spaces of my own life until that sacred light emerged emerge and the healing waters soothed me. It was church for me.
There were many years after that, listening to punk rock or God Knows what else, that I was too cool to admit to liking the E Street Band. But no matter where I've been in my life, no matter what I was struggling with or evolving into becoming, I could always throw my headphones on and find my way back to Church to Feel The Real.
And the older I get, the more it means..
Wednesday, January 4, 2017
The Boogie Man.
Listen, the Boogie Man we've been collectively calling "2016" is more properly called "Addiction" and/or "Under-Treated Mental Illness." It's as Real as can be, and it's keeping a great many of us from not only reaching our fullest potential, but from actually growing old.
We can eulogize the genius of the creative people we've loved and lost to "2016", but let us not fail to absorb the bracing reality that undercuts their tragic passing.
What I want to say is This: If you need Help - If you need a friend or an ear or someone to help push you in the direction of getting some sort of treatment, to take you to a meeting, to connect you with people that can help: I'm here. And I hope you are there, too, for the people you love struggling with these demons in and around your life. Listen to them. Encourage them. Love them. Let them know you care about them so damn much. Love them until it hurts.
And perhaps we should consider honoring the people we've already lost, both in the world of the arts and in our own lives, by demanding better access to quality Mental Health Care from our elected leaders. Perhaps we should be more careful and judicious about criminalizing addiction and destroying the lives of young people who are struggling through an Unimaginable Hell.
Baby Steps. One day at a time. Unfortunately, one of the melancholic lessons we reluctantly absorb as we move through this life is that Wisdom and Grace come on slowly, while pain, anger and longing hit the heart and brain with electrical speed.
Maybe this is the time to be radically compassionate. The only chance we have of beating these things is by Loving Each Other.
----
"We are not cured. What we have is a daily reprieve, contingent on the maintenance of our spiritual condition."
We can eulogize the genius of the creative people we've loved and lost to "2016", but let us not fail to absorb the bracing reality that undercuts their tragic passing.
What I want to say is This: If you need Help - If you need a friend or an ear or someone to help push you in the direction of getting some sort of treatment, to take you to a meeting, to connect you with people that can help: I'm here. And I hope you are there, too, for the people you love struggling with these demons in and around your life. Listen to them. Encourage them. Love them. Let them know you care about them so damn much. Love them until it hurts.
And perhaps we should consider honoring the people we've already lost, both in the world of the arts and in our own lives, by demanding better access to quality Mental Health Care from our elected leaders. Perhaps we should be more careful and judicious about criminalizing addiction and destroying the lives of young people who are struggling through an Unimaginable Hell.
Baby Steps. One day at a time. Unfortunately, one of the melancholic lessons we reluctantly absorb as we move through this life is that Wisdom and Grace come on slowly, while pain, anger and longing hit the heart and brain with electrical speed.
Maybe this is the time to be radically compassionate. The only chance we have of beating these things is by Loving Each Other.
----
"We are not cured. What we have is a daily reprieve, contingent on the maintenance of our spiritual condition."
Friday, June 10, 2016
Gratitude: Part One..
Just a few little things for which I am grateful today:
Watching/Listening to my son start to form his own nuanced opinions about the world; from politics to art to science, etc.
Dimly lit diners where an older waitress calls me "honey" and brings me muddy coffee.
Hearing Vin Scully call a Dodger game and remembering listening to the same golden voice with my father and grandfather, echoing through the halls of the memory of childhood.
The magical surrealism and cinematic gorgeousness of Federico Fellini, Jean-Luc Godard, Wim Wenders, etc.
Being able to crack the mic every night on one of the world's most legendary radio stations.
Eating vegetable pakoras at Natraj.
Long stretches of desolate highway under a big bowl of stars with the perfect soundtrack oozing through the speakers.
Kenneth Koch's "You Want A Social Life With Friends," which means just as much to me Now as The Clash or The Replacements did growing up.
The opportunity to contribute in funding music and film and art projects I love.
Remembering things so beautiful that you have to thank the Deity of your choice that they even happened and that you were lucky enough to be there.
Being able to make rad playlists on spotify for almost any occasion.
The light flooding through windows in the work of Edward Hopper.
The number of people who have truly loved me and cared about my well-being. I'm so incredibly blessed and have been given so much more than I deserve in life.
Little carnivals that show up in city parks.
Being able to write smutty three line poems and bound them together in a book.
Thinking of things Sun Ra has taught me that have not so much to do with music, planets or Egyptology, but just about how to live your life.
Boba all up in my tea.
The Augustine Fellowship and all they continue to teach me about self-love.
Wandering through the streets of Los Angeles, camera in hand, searching for little slices of life too beautiful not to attempt to capture.
Being old enough to see people change.
Being old enough to see people not change.
---------------
Watching/Listening to my son start to form his own nuanced opinions about the world; from politics to art to science, etc.
Dimly lit diners where an older waitress calls me "honey" and brings me muddy coffee.
Hearing Vin Scully call a Dodger game and remembering listening to the same golden voice with my father and grandfather, echoing through the halls of the memory of childhood.
The magical surrealism and cinematic gorgeousness of Federico Fellini, Jean-Luc Godard, Wim Wenders, etc.
Being able to crack the mic every night on one of the world's most legendary radio stations.
Eating vegetable pakoras at Natraj.
Long stretches of desolate highway under a big bowl of stars with the perfect soundtrack oozing through the speakers.
Kenneth Koch's "You Want A Social Life With Friends," which means just as much to me Now as The Clash or The Replacements did growing up.
The opportunity to contribute in funding music and film and art projects I love.
Remembering things so beautiful that you have to thank the Deity of your choice that they even happened and that you were lucky enough to be there.
Being able to make rad playlists on spotify for almost any occasion.
The light flooding through windows in the work of Edward Hopper.
The number of people who have truly loved me and cared about my well-being. I'm so incredibly blessed and have been given so much more than I deserve in life.
Little carnivals that show up in city parks.
Being able to write smutty three line poems and bound them together in a book.
Thinking of things Sun Ra has taught me that have not so much to do with music, planets or Egyptology, but just about how to live your life.
Boba all up in my tea.
The Augustine Fellowship and all they continue to teach me about self-love.
Wandering through the streets of Los Angeles, camera in hand, searching for little slices of life too beautiful not to attempt to capture.
Being old enough to see people change.
Being old enough to see people not change.
---------------
Thursday, February 11, 2016
Breathe In.. Breathe Out..
Let's all take a deep breath. No need to wrap ourselves in flags or symbols or tribes or ideology right now. Just Breathe. We're all here and in this together, us human beings, and most of us (myself included) have a lot more work to do to become our best selves. Keep Breathing. We'll get through this. Even the darkest times. We'll keep learning and loving and thriving. Breathe. Let go of fear and anger. Release the tension and anxiety. Feel the warmth coming from the furnace of your heart. Let it illuminate your body.
Breathe Deep and Exhale. Realize, with every breath: You are Here. You are Safe. You are Beautiful. You are Loved.
It's gonna be okay.
Breathe Deep and Exhale. Realize, with every breath: You are Here. You are Safe. You are Beautiful. You are Loved.
It's gonna be okay.
Friday, January 8, 2016
Scene I
Her entire body trembled as I tightly clenched her throat. Her hot breath shortened, full of fear and fuck, as I felt her heart pounding viciously in her esophagus. I thought of the ballbusting cop who might happen by and see some big, dumb, hulking creep choking a sweet young lady in the back of a beat-up SUV. I held my face right up close to hers and heard a primal, guttural moan escape from the center of her chest. She shook violently; writhing in her dark ritual, and pushed me off her, red-faced and gasping..
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