Philip Roth. RIP

The writer takes an exit after leaving us with the grand body of work.

I am reading  American Pastoral.(written 1997).  

The story takes place in New Jersey.  Roth captures the 20th century by his genius.
The century that I have spent half of my life living.  The post war boomers and the product of their wealth is the content of this book.

What strikes me about Roth’s writing is his ability to get the spirit of the time–like a surgeon he cuts deep and with precision capturing the post WW 2  American landscape that quickly morphs into the Vietnam War  ( you have to read the book to get what I am saying).

I will give you one quote from the book which struck me as brilliant—here goes:

“The daughter who transports him out of the longed-for American pastoral and into everything that is its antithesis and its enemy, into the fury, the violence, and the desperation of the counter pastoral—into the indigenous American berserk.”
That about sums up what happened to the America that Roth writes about in this brilliant work—this is of a time that our generation—witnessed and we did arrive at  berserk….so smart is Roth’s critical eye.

Check Philip Roth out—if you have never read him—try it—if you have read him —— read him again.

Bang Bang Bang

The school shootings are now so common we hardly blink when the news crosses the various media wires that are hooked to our lives.  The information highway is streaming with kid in school killings.
Here in America we feast on the extinguished lives of our children—who are mowed down like hay.
School was a place to learn now it is a place for terrorists.
The empire eats its own.
We watch the landscape race toward more security and more guns.  Somehow the two don’t mix but it seems to be the solution that we look toward for survival in our post-modern 21st Century life.
Gun’s r us.
We now train to defend ourselves against the odds of a gun man with shot guns and military style machine guns that can and do kill the innocents in our hometowns—most likely at our schools.  

Bang Bang Bang is the tune heard more often than not in our homes, hamlets, movie theaters, churches, malls, & just about everywhere USA.  

No place is free from the fire from guns.
The guns that appear in the hands of the disgruntled minority who resort to violence as a way to settle grief is all too common.  

So now what? as the pols pray and continue to accept cash for for votes from the gunners best friend (NRA) we are caught in a moment that seems like we live in tar.  

How to get out of this mess –is daunting.  

I think it requires a revolution and the revolution is now.   

Not a new idea but each generation has their axe to grind and this for now is the moment for those who are adults in the 21st century.
18 is the number to settle the score.

2018 is a good number to rally around…for now 18 year olds can vote.  

YES —a small step but one that shows contempt for biz as usual.

As Malcolm X said “the ballot or the bullet “(you choose.)

So as Leonard says ” there is a crack in everything—that is how the light gets in….”
In the next century one will wonder who is Leonard?
The footnote industry will flourish as we watch the landscape be wiped clean of all
things that cannot be sold.
We have a little time for the light to get in but the architects are in the process of sealing
everything.
No cracks will be left unsealed.
The orders are coming in from the higher-ups
as I write this little text in the room where I have leaks and drafts–we see change.
The poverty of drafts has an advantage but beware this is coming to an end.
The cold April 0f 2018 is a sign and a signal that we are in the deep state where war lives as well
as other dark forces that steal our bread.
We tumble with these thoughts as we watch our neoliberal
leaders steal the batteries from the children.
Okay so what!!! we say to ourselves— as we flip our wigs and drive our Chevy
down the road singing a song of freedom.
Six guns trumped.
Gum shoes bought.
Cats meow.
Ride Sally Ride.
Me-TOO is real.
Stormy is more than the weather.
And if you are not sure which way the wind is blowing??
Call the weather-women.

Hamlet take an exit
we are done with your complaints.
We are born crying.
This we know and forget
If Whitman is right— life is a sleep and a forgetting.
Is there a memory for this life or
are we lost in time and space.
Are we left holding our fist “like” when we left the crib of our mother’s womb
Or are we swimming to Cambodia with Spalding Gray– wondering what the war was all about.
When all is said and done we are looking for the ship that sails in the dark night….but there is no light only reflection from our eyes.
What am I talking about?—Yes this you would like to know.
Well there is no talking “about” but what I am saying is “that all we have left in our mind’s eye is a series of random thoughts strung together with a clothes line”.
Last night the big tree fell at my childhood’s home–I am free at last.
What remained was the big hole.
So there you are and here I am.
Happy as a clam!
April 5th Hudson, NY.

APRIL FOOL 2018

I have not been here in awhile.

Where have I been.

I have been here there and everywhere.

Yet –I have not left but I did leave to take a break from blogging.

I wonder sometimes what it all means to write these words to those I do not know.

The blogosphere is another mystery to me.

Somehow it all seems so like mercury—sliding—and unable to grasp.

The blog the blogger the one who writes and the one who reads.

A public and private space all wrapped into one.

Yes it is so slippery—now April 1, 2018 emerges and I am back here on the blog.

I have been busy.
Yes.
Time cures all.

Guns fire.

Elections make change.

Cash is king.

Hudson loses her center.

Cats age.

9 lives is a myth.

My life looks like those who gave it to me.

Who could think of being generous at a time like this?

Will they come forward those who fell down.

When will she get to the top.

Will the lesbian be a hero.

Can the dyke be a leader.

Did the whore bring down the ship.

Was Moby Dick real.

Did she slide home without getting dirty.

Well then is this the right angle or the left turn.

Is America yet.

Oh my my the pie is a force to be reckoned with.

Can I end the sentence with a preposition.

Did Lincoln die with his boots on.

Did those who loved women get to enter the gym.

Well we all wondered who was straight and who was gay after all.
But in reality after all it didn’t matter did it?

Didn’t they pray like there was no tomorrow.

Really now really now we were ready to call it quits but the game could not end.

The cards were stacked against us.
Would the President load the dice as the clock moved to midnight?
Passover, Easter,  and a Full Moon this is auspicious.

Martha

she brays in the play “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf”..

I ask do we have

time for this play

or another play.

Do we have time

to ponder why

some one does

something or

reasons why.

Do we mine our

thoughts in a time

of liars?

Yes Lying Liars.

Does Aristotle matter?

Do we need to know

the classics or

will they die with

us.

In time of war

we sacrifice

all the culture

for bullets.

Can we learn

how to load a

gun

or run from

the executioner

who wears a vest

loaded with explosives.

Or are we ready to

fight for what

we believe in or

are we willing

like Cato to

fall on our sword

for our leader.

Who will lead in this land o chaos

is there a way

out ?

Who remembers

the way in?

That is

the question.

July 1, 2017

The Waves was a project I did 40 years ago.  The adaption was a project where I worked on the deconstruction of a text by Woolf (Chapter #1). In 1978 as a young artist working in theater I was in search of women’s voices for the stage—frankly there were few available for me to discover except in literature.  Woolf and Stein were two writers I turned to and found by working on their texts I could begin to understand the sound of language which for me became equal to the importance of the narrative.  I saw through this work on the text of THE WAVES  (Chapter #1)that organizing the sound of a text was a means to the end for my thinking.  The WAVES is a look at what I was searching for 40 years ago—We plan on sharing this text with our audience here in Hudson on July 14th, 2017.  This event is a members only event.

Long time since I have checked into the blog part of this site.  Why so absent?  Life and Art collide sometimes.  The time is filled with things that take me away from thinking.  The landscape has been stolen by greed.  This new century is hard to define as one lives it—the markers are indistinguishable—hard to read what is going on and where we have been and where we are going.  We live in serious times.  The future for some seems impossible and hope is worn out like a tired shoe–all scuffed and frayed around the edges.   Refugee–Immigrant–Migrant–all take on new meanings.  We know the climate has changed and yet we can’t change–we think it is summer and yet it is hyper-summer—one day we sweat from intense heat and the next we are so cold…..it is like the political temperament of our land—irrational.
I have a lot I am thinking about and wonder if ……yes “if” as in what if or how if or then if or if cares or if cries or if thinks.  We go on.  Thank you for all your eyes on these words…….

Last Men In Aleppo— is a hard pill to swallow.
The movie is so worth the time to see and to understand the devastation of a place in the world that has been bombed by Russia, Syria (their own government) & USA.
It shows the people who work to rescue the innocent and it shows the view of city that is virtually rubble.
Why we sit idly by is the question– as this nation is blown apart?? (is there an answer)?
If you have the will and the stomach this movie is very worth the time.
This is a deeply troubling movie to say the least.
To see THE LAST MEN IN ALEPPO is to be a witness to the time in which we are living.
Aleppo is nearly no more and the people have so little choice.
This is a crisis and the refugees need to be embraced.
My deep gratitude to the movie makers who risked their lives to capture these events.
Last Men In Aleppo Movie at TSL. screening May 18-28 www.timeandspace.org

New work at TSL Art Gallery space featuring Wayne Montecalvo.
The show called Blotched Surface is up on the walls of TSL.
Wayne spent time in Japan and the work is the result of beautiful images on paper as well as other images treated with various surfaces that treat images by laying one thing on top of another.
Wayne has the love of image that emerges through the blending of surfaces—-it reminds me of the photographic process when you put the exposed paper in the chemicals and watch it come to life in the the dark room’s light—it is magic and memory—things printed and unstable—-like life.
The Montecalvo’s show is up now—-there will be a celebration of his work on May 28 Sunday 6pm to 8pm
Rob Caldwell will be on hand with some music and refreshments are available.
Yes— see you at TSL. www.timeandspace.org