Mona Lisa, The Cecilia Gimenez Method
Burt Reynolds once asked me out. I was in his room.
Wildwood: A Sad Story Up Until Now
A Watched Pot Never Boils
Revolution makes time movefaster than any measure of skill.
We will prove
this with truth
tied as bundles of unmarked bills.
Revolt makes time move
arms full of
leather satchels full
of proof
and however we’ve
begun to feel,
this revolt has made time move
past ourselves
into barrels of jet fuel
soon lit to prove
that regret, and our relationship
to the revolution make time move.
I am near you. I am well.
This is proof enough.
-Curtis Jensen A friend wrote this poem. I'm pretty sure it was written with love in mind, but how quickly that can change. And the trust it takes to carry it through. It was 2004. It was the same year the moon pushed the gigantic wave through the Indian Ocean. It was 2004. The same year my mother fell into the pool and drowned. Not to worry though, she pulled through. She lived. 2008, it's mother's day. My mother tells us she has cancer. It's 2009. She dies. I'd love to tell you all about my mother. Her graces, her unspeakable class. Her standard of expressing the highest level of character. Though, she faltered. She succumbed to abuse. She fell victim to a lesser man. This same man, she thought, what harm would it do to leave him in charge of distribution of my estate? How much harm can one do under the protection of a document - of an unflattering law? Much damage as I've learned. Let me preface this: I am passive. I am discerning. I don't jump to conclusions. I'm calculating. I've calculated this situation now for 12 years. She first met John (the lesser man) in 2001. He was doing construction for her. SHe loved a blue-collar man. A man that could fix things. And, make her laugh. He did these things, and she over=looked his lower social status. He lived in his van, mostly, however, he seemingly held various residences, here and there. All of this is trivial. What matters is that since the day she met John, she declined. He called her a cunt. She pandered to him. The proud lion that was my mother turned into a crippled cub. He remained proud. My mother left him as Trustee & Executor of her estate. See, she had a knack for investments. She acquired a property conjointly with her business partner and long time friend. He passed away in 2008. He left everything to her. I'm not sure where this is going to get me, but this is a war cry, this is me not being passive. The lesser man I describe above has squandered hundreds of thousands of dollars from the estate. We mediated. We thought all was well. He squandered more. He dilapidated a prime property. It's a property my sisters and I are trying to save. It's our last hope. It's hope for a community. My mother owned a 1920s era summer camp in Los Angeles: Camp Wildwood.
John, the lesser man, has left it in shambles. My sisters and I have done a hell of a job to repair it. It's beautiful. It's in my hometown. It is home. John wouldn't allow us on the property for years. Since being allowed on the property we have found oohing but sadness and deceit. We've been trying to buyout his 1/4 beneficiary status and don't know how or what to do. We're getting (presumably) low ball offers. We'd love to keep this property in the family. The list of atrocities goes on and on and quite frankly it's too exhaustive a list for this. However, I can say with a level of certitude that this man deserves nothing. He has taken everything from my family with complete disregard and while I would never wish suffering upon another human, I wish him to be devoid of benefit. My blood has begun to boil at the thought of this man being entitled to anything my mother cherished, such as any part of her home.
Here's a transcribed letter written by my mother to John, the lesser man:
John,
You will no doubt, tear this up!
It is over, (cannot, will not), done, I refuse to live this way, intimidated, insulted, called dirty names! Strange way of caring (in my mind) for someone!!
Cannot communicate verbally - what is left??
You are giving me no option - I did try - ("I cannot give you my blood - "the old hag" can only die - or be left in pool to die - ") Threats you should have left me in the pool!
Yes, you have done many things at Wildwood (above + beyond) However, at my risk as well - lawfully! You don't understand!
I cannot write anymore - you have done your own wrong doing.
I would really like to know where you think you are soooo superior than average man????
John, a little kindness goes a long way.
- The lunch (no dinner) Whore! For whatever reason, my mother allowed him to remain and allowed for him to push her family away. I was the one that had to quit my life to take care of her during her chemo & radiation because he was too inept. He cashed out an early annuity that was to be divided amongst her daughters - we received no such annuity. He squandered at least $700,000 in 3 years. He has let my mother's house become infested with rats. He abused animals. He was violent with my sister. Violent with our mother. He is, and I don't say this lightly, a horrible human. And, if all this amounts to is a public rant, then so be it. I keep this locked tight. I go to work. I hang out with friends. I try to not let it get to me. I let my sister fuel the good fire. It's gone on too long, and perhaps it's too late. For all that is good in the world, I thought I'd give it a chance. The property is set to sell this week and we have rejected the offer, not even knowing what it is, because we assume it's an insult to our intelligence. We need help. If you have any advice on this matter, I would greatly appreciate it. We've been run through the ringer. We've paid $900/hour lawyers that have done nothing for us but gotten us into more shit. I need honesty and valor. It's what my mother would have wanted. As a testament to being kind - just do it. Be wonderful to people. Be kind. Be generous, be humble. Honor love above all else. And most important of all - let others love you in return. Never have I been so open and candid about issues in my life and part of me thinks my mother would scoff at the idea that I put this out there. She always thought I would have made a great journalist.
Nacimiento - Light Black
So, a very large dream of mine has been in progress, and I can't keep it a secret for much longer. I, lucky enough, have found some amazingly talented people to play music with and I believe, the results have been pure greatness. The band is Light Black. Levi Lebo & Josh Asher of New Transit Direction, and Carri Wakefield of The Wolfs, Azon & others, and then me. Woo! So, that's what I've been up to lately. We played our first show last month and it went pretty well. We got a write-up in SLC City Weekly and it seemed to be well received.
I can't begin to tell you how excited we are to play with one of our contemporary heroes - Chelsea Wolfe. She's radness beyond raditude. Basically, we're honored and think it will be an amazing show. I'm such a dork, I drew up a flyer for the show. If you're in SLC on Aug 29th and want something mystical, something real, come to Urban Lounge and watch us wang noodle. You can buy tix on 24tx.com.
& Here's a video of Chelsea Wolfe in case you're not convinced.
Diane: Meet Danielle
Do you find that this approach usually works? Or let me guess, you've never tried it before. In fact, you don't normally approach girls - am I right? The truth is that you're a quiet sensitive type but, if I'm prepared to take a chance, I might just get to know the inner you: witty, adventurous, passionate, loving, loyal. Taxi! A little bit crazy, a little bit bad. But hey - don't us girls just love that?
This pretty much sums up my 20s.
This movie, more than any movie from the time I saw Trainspotting in the theatre in 1995, until now, no other has been so influential. Which is strange to say. I have never done heroin or hard drugs, I'm not Scottish. I don't know what it was. It was the film, not its content. I love(d) the scenes, the styling, the music. Everything about it - I loved. I was 14 when this film came out. I was reading Zamaytin, Orwell, Goldstein, I wanted rebellion, or more so, something to stand for. Throughout my 20s I argued with professors, just to get deeper answers. I rebelled by getting a degree in something dry, just to prove I could be just as academic despite my creative side. God, being young was great. The greater thing, is that I'm still young. I'm in another phase. I feel like a hermit crab. You get old. You've got baggage. See, how Diane becomes my mid-life hero too? She's got parents, rules, school. She's repressed by any means. Me, I'm independent, choose have to work a 9-5 (freedom within limitation type of reasoning), have no real rules, and yet, I feel burdened? What has happened? How are adults viewed so independently? We've set ourselves up to follow the same system we've known. Complacency. Shit! I've been duped. The same fucking schedule I followed in high school, I now follow, save for longer hours and less breaks. WTF. Now I rebel quietly, with what I wear, what I choose to believe in, what I choose to eat for lunch. Fuck. I spend my time differently, but I'm still rebelling, even with my 9-5 and my mortgage. Now I know the premise for a mid-life crisis. This is why grown men buy hookers, drive expensive cars on the wrong side of the street, and why affluent women still shoplift. I know that I can find better avenues. Thank the universe for granting me the gift of creativity. If I didn't have a creative bone in my body, then I'd probably be stealing eyeliner and boxed wine from CVS. Instead, I find rebellion in quiet places, in my mind, and that, I will never let die.
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