February 5, 2000 ***"Quote Whore Strikes Again."
    Ah, yes, I, the quote whore, have new trifles to lay upon thee....
    "A lot of big bands from the States seem to be frighteningly ignorant of their own heritage.  It's a creation of the 70's.  I'm talking about the Totos and the Rushes - those groups that sing, "We're a rock n' roll band"...And they don't have anything to do with rock n' roll, wouldn't know it if it bit them."    --- Elvis Costello
    Hmmm...first of all, Rush is from Canada.  And I don't think I ever heard any Rush or Toto song that contained any lyrics like Elvis' example.  Ignorance?  Or arrogance on the part of Elvis.  You be the judge.  Personally, I think the noises the neighbor's dogs make during a full moon are much more sonorous than anything Elvis has ever recorded.
    "Rock has always been the devil's music.  you can't convince me that it isn't."  --- David Bowie
    Ground control to Beelzebub...ground control to Lucifer....
    "Women are absolutely equal.  They just can't lift as much."  --- David Lee Roth
    You womens' libbers didn't know you had a friend in ol' Diamond Dave did ya?
    "I think music is way beyond rational thinking.  It doesn't have to make any sense."  --- Michael Stipe
    "Birthday party, cheesecake, jelly bean, boom"  Yeah, I get it.
    "I did it to myself.  It wasn't society or a pusher or being blind or being black or being poor.  It was all my doing."  --- Ray Charles, on his heroin addiction
    You've got to respect the way he takes responsibility in a world that would have you believe that all of the things he mentioned were the causes.  Ray Charles rocks.
    "If I was a girl I'd rather fuck a rock star than a plumber."  --- Gene Simmons
    Yeah, and if I was a girl I think I'd take the plumber.  At least he'd be handy around the house.
    "Let us read and let us dance...two amusements that will never do any harm to the world."  --- Voltaire
    I'll second that motion....
    "Writing is easy.  All you have to do is sit at a typewriter and open a vein."  --- Red Smith
    Ain't that the truth...'nuff said.
    Hope you enjoyed these little bits of wisdom (or idiocy in some cases)...until next time....
 
 

February 4, 2000 ***"Mirror Suite."
    At the end of my entry from January 27th I made reference to a recurring vision that I have.  That being seeing cracks in mirrors when I look at myself.  Figurative cracks most times, though occasionally they're a bit more real than I'd like to admit.  Since that entry, actually a couple days before, I wrote "The Mirror Suite," which is going to be the main piece in my next poetry collection.  It's an investigation, for lack of better terms, into perceptions vs. reflections and how much stock we place in both.
    It was pretty difficult to put out, too.  It's in its embryonic stages, but the birthing process was fairly intense.  Writing poetry with themes tying them together is much like a band doing a concept album.  The storyline, or theme, has to be really tightly wound to keep it together.  "The Mirror Suite" is ten poems, not necessarily a concept story, but more like different angles and means to the end of deciphering my problems with those perceptions and realities.
    I like it, anyway.  I've passed it on to a couple friends to chew on and give me feedback.  I don't like going to writers' groups for feedback like this.  I have a few friends who I trust to be honest and hit me when I need to be hit.  After all, if a bunch of writers understand, that's cool, but it's the folks who are going to end up buying the books and coming to the readings that matter the most.  Of course, that's not to say that writers' groups don't have value.  They do, very much so.  It's just not my thing.  Perhaps it's a fatal flaw in my character...who knows?
    Anyway, things are going well, the book's underway and should be out by the fall as planned.  I also got to meet with an/my accountant yesterday to go over business stuff for DKP.  Very informative and worthwhile.  It also reinforced my belief that television sucks and media-hype is destroying the world.  Picture what the t.v. would pass off as an accountant...the attributes and assorted idiosyncracies.  The fellow I met with was a straight-shooter, very intense and knowledgable.  All of these are things that I appreciate and, alas, find that the typical entertainment version of an accountant lacks.  C'est la vie.
    Trust yourself, not the t.v.  Trust your perceptions, even with the realization that they're skewed.

January 30, 2000 ***"Snowy Super Sunday."
    Let's get the picks out of the way first.  In today's Super Bowl XXXIV I'm picking the following:
    Tennessee Titans    34
    St. Louis Rams        28
Al Del Greco, the Titans kicker, will be the difference with two second half field goals as his direct opponent, Jeff Wilkins of the Rams, will miss on three attempts in the game.  Oh, yeah, and my dream from last week will come true as the Titans defense will destroy Kurt Warner, showing no mercy as they rip one of his legs off and barbeque it during the halftime festivities.  Jevon Kearse will have to leave with a stomach ache.
    In other news, for the second week in a row, my travel home from the radio show was interrupted by massive amounts of snow and ice.  I swear, at 5:30, I put a song on and walked out front of the studio to look:  nothing but sleet, the same stuff that was falling when I drove to the station an hour earlier.  At 6:03, when I walked from the studio, there was an inch of snow on the ground.  Amazing.  Absolutely amazing.  It took me an hour and fifteen minutes to get home, what is usually a twenty minute ride.
    And now there's snow to be shovelled.  God help me.  I used to love winter, and I still enjoy the cold and stillness that comes with it, but as an adult, having to go somewhere in it is just a freakin' mess....
 

January 27, 2000 ***"Shattered."
    The remote control to my stereo is sitting in pieces, shattered, on the floor in front of the t.v./stereo shelves.  You see, I've only been in one "fight" in my life.  It was two punches.  One to my face, one from my fist to the other kid's face.  That's it.  However, I have my father's temper and occasionally an inanimate object will incur my wrath for no other reasons than it is a) handy, and b) is not a sentient being.
    So my remote got thrown across the room tonight.
    It's a big, bright, green neon sign saying, "Scot, find a new job right now!"  I always let things get to me, and work is no exception.  I won't go into details, but suffice it to say, things aren't well.  I need something where logic and creativity go hand-in-hand.  We have a saying where I work, under our breathes, of course, about snatching defeat from the jaws of victory.  Happens every day.  There's another one about us making money in spite of ourselves.  That's a truth.  And, to be blunt, I don't fit in there.  Oh, we all get along alright and get the job done.  Actually, we're more efficient than most, but it's me.  I'm a musician, a writer, a college graduate...most folks there are avid hunters, dirt bike riders & mechanics.  It's not that we're all that much different...it's more like when you'd focus on us, I'm the one standing there that's a little bit blurred when the photo's developed.
    And as for my temper, generally, I keep it reigned in.  Oh, I get perturbed, sure.  I get frustrated.  But I do my damnedest to not boil over, mainly because I remember how it used to make me feel when my dad did.  No one deserves to be party to that.  If I blow, I do it alone, like I did tonight.  And I write.  And I play.  And I work it out.  I have too much respect for most folks in my life to bring them into my sickness and make them watch it like some mix of the Twilight Zone and old Georgia South wrestling with Gordon Solie.  What you're reading about in this entry is me, alone, dealing.
    But the reason for my tangent this evening was when T., my love, made a snap comment about my computer not being bought from a "name" company and how you should always buy computers with tech support and such.  (My computer's five years old, has been seriously upgraded twice, gone through several near deaths, one actual death, and still runs, though it's dying again and I'm about to put it out of it's/my misery...it's a mutt, but has served me with more loyalty, through designing three books, promoting them, these web pages and many other things, than many of my friends' have who paid three times as much, even with tech support.)  Now, of course, she has a point, too.  I'm not saying she's wrong.  It was more the tone of her voice...it reminded me of work.  A snap judgment made without thought given to the situation.
    I didn't blow up, but I made the comparison to work and, apparently, was a bit too caustic in my description because she got very quiet.  We talked for about thirty more seconds, I hung up and threw my remote across the room.  Then I got my shot & a sandwich and that brings us up to the present.
    I hate my job.  I despise my job.  Most of my resumes go unresponded to for one reason or another.  And, really, I don't know what I want to do anymore.  I've become what I hate.  I'm a sleepwalker.  And then I get home and realize what I've wasted eight-to-ten hours a day doing and just get pissed off.  It's a vicious circle, you know?  Need the benefits and money, don't need the bullshit.
    In my current state, I really shouldn't be around people at all, to be quite honest about it.  I've got too many things to work out and too little time to do it.  Whining?  No.  Reality.  Big difference.  I'm still doing things I need to (seeking pro help with my DKP accounting, planning new projects, etc.) but there's so much more that needs to be done.
    I'm sorry for losing my temper in whatever way I did tonight, T.  It's just that sometimes I look at myself in the mirror and see my face splintered and shattered into pieces even though the glass seems as smooth as can be.
 

January 26, 2000 ***"Pickle."
    Sometimes I get hit with that blinding epiphany that just knocks me on my ass.  It happened today at work.  Actually, it was one that I've had before.  It goes like this:  what if there's nothing else?  Just ponder that for a moment, okay?
    What if there's nothing else?
    What if the atheists and existentialists are right?
    What if this skin suit and it's fucked up intake and output are all there is?
    I don't think that's true, but sometimes it sneaks up on me and, literally, shoots a cold chill down my spine.  Just that thought.  It makes me realize how witlessly I waste time.
    Some people just want to live & get by.  They want a nine-to-five, go home & watch television life.  To those folks, this entry probably doesn't matter.  Of course, to those folks, I'd bet they don't become repeat customers to my journal either.  And that's fine.  I believe in personal choice.  I also believe that if someone wants to yank enough rope to hang themself with, I'm more than happy to give it to them.  I will stand tall for someone else's right to be an asshole, too.  Do it.  I find it entertaining.
    I just have this pickle of a streak in me that wants to wake people up.  I want everyone to feel.  I hate to see people walk around in a haze, not noticing their own lives as they pass by.  Part of that comes through in my writings, poems and songs.  Part of it is just my attitude.  However, I'm more of a watcher.  I love to watch people.  I'm not a voyeur, except that people are so much fun to watch, if not to interact with.
    Which makes me wonder about the epiphany....
    I believe there is much more than this ("this" being a reference to our observed, objective reality).  So why do most people cave in and become, for lack of a better word, drones?  If someone e-mails me and wants a box of about fifty CD's I don't want anymore, they can have them.  If someone wants my Sony Playstation, for $75 it's their's.  Some of my books, same thing...come get 'em.  I'm cleaning house.  I'm untying myself from my worldly estate aside from the things I need.
    That's the point at which most folks lose it.
    Do you want it or do you need it?
    I need my computer (for word processing, typing & communication).  I need my basses & guitars (for creation, the outlet, the art).  I need my certain CD's and assorted media items (inspiration, background, ambiance).  But there are so many things I don't need.
    The pickle is that it's so easy to distract yourself from life.
 

January 23, 2000 Pt. 2 ***"The Aftermath."
    My Sportsmanlike Side:
    Congratulations to the St. Louis Rams on their defeat of the Tampa Bay Buccaneers today in the NFC Championship game by an 11 to 6 score.  Also to the Tennessee Titans for their whipping of the Jacksonville Jaguars 33 to 14 in the AFC Championship.  It should make for a great Super Bowl next Sunday.
    How I Really Feel:
    I hope Tennessee's Jevon Kearse (#90) breaks both of Kurt Warner's "Thank you JEZUUUUUSSS!!!" bullshit, candy-ass legs and the Tennessee Titans put an ass whipping on the Rams the likes of which haven't been seen since the Bears wiped the field with the Patriots in '85.
    However, my hearty congratulations also to my favorite team, no matter what, the Tampa Bay Buccaneers.  The table is set for the next five to ten years for them to be one  of the dominant teams in the NFL.  They'll be back, no doubt about it.

January 23, 2000 ***"Timmy Wisdom, etc."
    Wisdom from the desk of Mr. Timmy E. McNally, esquire:
    "They say that if you have unprotected sex with a girl, you're having sex with everyone she's had sex with in her life.  So, if you use a condom, it's like you're using a new dick every time you have sex!"
    Needless to say, that set off a chain of deep rationalizations about sex and life-in-general.  Last night there was a nifty snow storm in the area.  Took me an hour to get back from the radio station, a ride that usually lasts about 25 minutes.  Tons of fun.
    And, yes, the Tampa Bay Buccaneers are facing the St. Louis Rams in the NFC Championship this afternoon.  Seem odd for me to be a Buc fan?  Yeah.  That's me, though.  When I was a wee youngster I saw 'em on t.v. and, sick as it may sound (no sicker than Tim's wisdom at the head of this entry, to be sure), I really dug the creamsicle orange uniforms.  And thus began what was to be a very trying, but very loyal relationship with my favorite team.  How many straight losing seasons before '97?  13?  Yeah.
    But they're back, one step away from the Super Bowl.
    And my hopes are riding on them.
    My picks for both games today:
    Tennessee Titans 24, Jacksonville Jaguars 17
    Tampa Bay Buccaneers 28, St. Louis Rams 27.
 

January 22, 2000 ***"Bitching & More Top Ten."
    I'm a horrid person.  One of my best friends moved to Lexington to go to Grad School and I haven't been able to find the time to call him in more than a week.  Granted, coordinating schedules is a tragic feat, but I know I've been lacking here.  Thing is, I know he's terribly busy and I guess I'm a bit fearful of catching him at the wrong time.  From the way he described his classes, god knows I wouldn't want any phone calls unless I was suitably prepared.  I shall try this evening, though.
    Oh, and for those curious souls who've e-mailed, yes, I still hate my job and, no, I don't think that any particular pornos belong in my top ten film list.  Porn is like a McDonald's cheeseburger...the idea is interesting when you're needing it, but it never tastes as good as you hoped it would.
    However, in keeping with what I started a few days ago, here are my top ten albums.  The criteria are such that, simply put, if I can listen all the way through without skipping tunes, no matter what mood I'm in, it gets in the list.  There weren't many contestants, though I have a bunch of albums that I adore.  Here goes:
Scot's Top Ten Albums:
1.    King's X - Gretchen Goes To Nebraska
2.    R.E.M. - Document
3.    Cracker - Cracker
4.    Creedence Clearwater Revival - Chronicle
5.    Warren Zevon - I'll Sleep When I'm Dead
6.    Manic Street Preachers - Generation Terrorists
7.    Alice Cooper - Billion Dollar Babies
8.    U2 - Achtung Baby
9.    Concrete Blonde - Bloodletting
10.  The Cult - Sonic Temple
Honorable Mentions:    Rush - Presto, D.A.D. - No Fuel Left For The Pilgrims, Soul Asylum - Grave Dancers Union, Savatage - Streets, Hanoi Rocks - Bangkok Shocks, Saigon Shakes, Hanoi Rocks, Sisters Of Mercy - Vision Thing, Heather Nova - Siren, Morphine - Yes, Peter Gabriel - Shaking The Tree, Lethal - Programmed, Phil Cody - Sons Of Intemperance Offering, Our Lady Peace - Happiness..., The Pursuit Of Happiness - Love Junk, Iron Maiden - Live After Death.
    Here's an unfortunate quick note to go along with the above list:  given my mood at any point in time, the Top Ten list could look as it does now.  Or it could be flooded with some from the Honorable Mentions, too.  The numbers, really, mean very little.  It's where I'm at now.  Basically, I suppose, this isn't so much a "Top Ten" as it is my favorite albums, period.  Enjoy.
 

January 20, 2000 ***"Top Ten Films."
    For the next few days, I think, I'll poison you all who dare read these pages with my top ten lists.  Face it, everyone has them.  Everyone has their favorite films, bands, albums, books, poems, etc.  Most of us are not neurotic enough to have to post them in an online journal, however.  Me?  Oh, fuck, yes I am!  *smile*  We'll begin with films...the reasoning is simple:  these are the films that I can and do watch all over again.  Keep in mind that I'm only 26 years old.  My classics may not be your classics.  This list is not open to debate (unless you're really feelin' froggy) either.
    By the way, I really, really, really hate living where I do.  But that's another entry for somewhere down the road.
Scot's Top Ten Films
1.    Star Wars Trilogy    Yes, the whole trilogy counts as one entry in the Top Ten.  Any one without the others, while they certainly stand on their own, is not as cool.  These films and the concepts in them really defined my childhood and had a deep impact on who I am today.  And Carrie Fisher in that outfit on Jabba The Hutt's barge was, I believe, my first realization of lust.
2.    The Shawshank Redemption    This is here for so many reasons that I won't even bother giving explanation.  Simply put, from the film:  "Get busy livin' or get busy dyin'."  More sound advice is hard to come by.
3.    Dead Poets Society    One of Robin Williams' few good acting jobs.  Ooooh...I can feel the burning stares now.  Sorry.  Great comic but I really haven't liked most of his flicks.  The concepts in this film, the acting, everything was top notch.  Great story and great execution.
4.    Things To Do In Denver When You're Dead    A story of organized crime, love, lust and personalities.  Who do you trust and why?  What do you do when you know you're going to have to pay with your life?  Along with the fact that it was titled after a great Warren Zevon song, the acting and story are rockin'.  Boat drinks....
5.    The Prophecy    I love religious iconography and stories.  This is a great one.  Two words for you beyond anything else I can say as a reason to see it:  Christopher Walken.  'Nuff said.
6.    Scream    Y'know, the plot and story were fantastic.  And Neve Campbell speaks for herself as an actress.  The best thing about this movie, to me, was that it poked fun at the horror genre, was a parody of sorts, and yet is one of the best horror movies I've ever seen.
7.    Baseketball        Trey Parker and Matt Stone, of South Park fame, pull off a flick that had me rolling with laughter from the word go.  Also features some nice ass shots of Jenny McCarthy (hey, I'm only human...and a man....)
8.    The Breakfast Club    Great theme song and stunted, but great, acting.  Eighties high school paranoia and freakishness.  And Ally Sheedy...mmmm, Ally Sheedy.
9.    Wild Things    Okay, yes, a Neve Campbell / Denise Richards sandwich would be mind-blowing, but beyond the obvious sexual tensions throughout the movie, check out the script and plot.  Superb.  Deception and scheming.  Lying and cheating.  Cocaine and dog chains.  What more do you need?  Great edge of your seat movie.
10.  Indiana Jones Trilogy    While growing up I often flipped between wanting to be Han Solo from Star Wars and Indiana Jones.  Oddly, both are Harrison Ford characters.  Alas, I'm not much of either one.  Again, religious iconography, history, excitement.  And, like the rest of the above films, these three had the key ingredient to any film:  great storytelling.
Honorable Mentions:    Falling Down, Full Metal Jacket, Say Anything..., Clerks, Ferris Bueller's Day Off, Apocalypse Now
 
 

January 18, 2000 ***"The Struggle."
    I'm mulling ideas over for the next book.  My early hope is for a summer release, but knowing the reality of the situation, financial and otherwise, fall is more like it.  Yeah, I know it's January now.  Y'see, folks, publishing is like making music is like architecture...the less you know about it, the better if you're not involved.  Like the old saying, once you see sausages being made you'll never eat them again.
    However, let me say that I had the opportunity to see sausages made and, though not pleasant at the time, I still love a good link or two on the ol' breakfast plate.
    My initial temptation was a themed collection, a la Mark Strand's Dark Harbor, but I'm not sure that's the route I want to go now.  I don't have enough to edit down to a full collection yet either.  Basically, if I'm going to do a book with, say, 50 poems, I'd like to have at least 90 to 100 to choose from.  Those left over will either get filed and cease to exist or be held onto.  There are a couple in Tripping Darkly that had been around for a few years prior to it's release, but Soliloquy was all new.  Ya never know.
    I don't have the patience for a novel.  Just don't.  Know thyself, huh?  I know that much about me, anyway.  But a poetic work, not an epic, but a poetic work tracing a theme.  But what theme?  Where to take it?
    I think that the struggle herein is one of me facing myself and trying to push my art (or so-called art) to a new and different area.
    Much work to be done, much brainstorming to undertake and much reflection to be had.
    And, of course, my stomach's in knots over the upcoming football game, the NFC Championship on Sunday.  My Bucs are 14 point underdogs.  My view?  I'm hoping against hope that they pull it out.  But I also realize that their offense is a semi-weak link right now, with a rookie quarterback and sometimes suspect offensive line.  By getting to this point, their defense has stake their claim on greatness.  In the next two years I believe they could lay the groundwork for a dynasty.  My fingers (and other assorted appendages) are crossed.
 

January 15, 2000 Pt. II ***"Bucs Comeback."
    The Tampa Bay Buccaneers just completed a spectacular second half comeback to beat the Washington Redskins 14 - 13 and earned a spot in the NFC Championship next week.  The Redskins' problems, the fumble, interception and botched field goal attempt, led to their downfall, along with the poise of Shaun King and the Tampa Bay defense.  I have no pity for Dan Turk, the Washington long snapper who botched the field goal attempt.  He's a good long snapper who just failed in this one attempt.
    Y'see, for over a decade it was Tampa who threw the interceptions.  Fumbled the ball.  Missed the field goals.  I have no pity anymore.  It's football...you make a mistake, you pay for it.  Just as Washington did.  Their season is over.
    And Tampa plays on, with old-school defensive football and a rookie quarterback who, though he gives all the credit to god, has a heck of a strong personality and great instincts on the field.  With heads-up play by their key players and belief in their gameplan they'll either head to St. Louis or stay at home and greet Minnesota next week.
    They've been this far once before and lost.
    I think the Buccaneers' time has come.
    (And, personally, I've suffered enough, having been a fan going back to when I was a wee youngster and barely knew what football was.)
 

January 15, 2000 ***"Poetry Readings."
    The poetry reading last night was astoundingly good.  Some great poets and very eclectic material were offered up.  Sold some books to some very cool people too...I love getting to talk to folks about the books, writing, whatever else comes up.  (Thanks Robin & Laurie!)  We're starting to draw more of a crowd to these gatherings, too, which is very uplifting.
    Just so you know, we're calling ourselves Poets Anonymous and the core of the group is myself, Greg Blankenship and Lonna Kingsbury, who actually started the whole thing and is our leader.  We read every second Friday of each month at The Cabaret in downtown Cincinnati.  There are always three or four other poets reading with us and there is also always an open mic after the featured readings.  The events aren't long...usually two hours or so before The Cabaret turns back into what it's actually known for, that being awesome piano playing and singing.  Quite an evening if you stay through the readings and the music (which I, alas, did not do last night).
    The horrible part is my friend from college, Lauren, apparently showed up right after I left.  Suckage.  I'm sure she'll be pissed at me for taking off, but the reading was done and, weirdly enough, I wasn't in the mood for the music or the crowd (not a crowd person).
    But these events are fantastic.  It's always a thrill to be on the radio with Scriptus Live (check the link out) but doing the live-in-front-of-people thing is just so much cooler.  Adrenaline and fear, anger and joy, emotions stretched to their limits.  Nifty stuff.
    Even when I doubt, it's nights like last night that make me understand better who I am and why I do what I do.  So thanks to all who participated last night and those who took the time to chat afterword...and to my folks for coming *smile*.
 

January 14, 2000 ***"J.J. & Green Bay."
    Ray Rhodes went 8 - 8 as head coach of the Green Bay Packers this past NFL regular season.  They missed the playoffs for the first time since '92 and Ray was fired.  It was his first year as head coach, having previously been head coach in Philadelphia, where he accumulated a less-than-terrific record.  Bottom line:  In the NFL, head coaches are paid to make their teams winners, whether they're implementing a new system or not.  The problem Jessie Jackson had with Ray Rhodes' firing is that he is black.
    I say so what.
    Nothing is fair in the NFL.  You get the job done or you end up working as a beer delivery guy watching the games at home on Sunday, plain and simple.  Many players realize that and, if they can't get the job done, so do coaches.  Now, perhaps Rhodes wasn't given the time to prove himself, seeing as how he signed a four-year contract.  However, Green Bay's record of success in the past years, with much the same talent core as took them to two of the last three Super Bowls, winning one, meant that instant success was necessary and attainable for a good coach.  Heck, an average coach would cry to be given the opportunity to coach them.
    And Rhodes ended up 8 - 8 (one of those losses was to my Buccaneers, by the way).
    In Tampa Bay, one of the two other teams with a black head coach, Tony Dungy believes Jessie Jackson is picking on the wrong folks too, based on yesterday's press release/interview.  Tony had a different situation four years ago in Tampa.  Tampa sucked.  They'd sucked for 13 years.  There was no standard.  Tony's record the first year was 6 - 10, but that was better than before and the teams was very young and was showing effort, winning four of their last six games.  The next year they were 10 - 6 and won a playoff game.  Huge year for the franchise.  Then an 8 - 8 year, a year of adolescence in which the team learned about itself and dealing with success.  This year, 11- 5 and a playoff game Saturday which, if they win, will send them to the NFC Championship.
    It's all about standards.  Had Rhodes been in Dungy's shoes four years ago and went 8 - 8 in Tampa, he'd have been a hero, like Dungy is now.  In Green Bay, he got fired, and rightfully so.  He is simply not a good  coach, no matter his skin color.
    Perhaps Jessie needs to pay more attention to the college ranks, where there are more black head coaches in training for shots at the NFL.  Or the NFL's players, 70% of whom are black (that's a majority, by the way, for those of you scoring at home).
    Don't get me wrong...I think that there are still problems with racial inequity in most workplaces, from promotions to pay.  It's America and we're slow to change.  But to pick on the NFL?  You've got to be kidding.  And to pick on Green Bay, though I hate them myself, for holding up a standard for their team and wanting success for the money they're paying?
    Maybe we need some of Green Bay's philosophy in Cincinnati.
    Or maybe next year Mike Brown will hire Ray Rhodes.
 

January 12, 2000 ***"MLK."
    It's truly a shame that no one cares about Martin Luther King Day around here.  Well, not "no one," but many companies and agencies do not allocate that as a holiday for their business.  I suppose I can understand why...money.  Sure.  Here's my problem with it:  we celebrate Thanksgiving, a meaningless holiday, with two days off.  We celebrate Christmas...you get that off whether you're a Christian or not.  Labor Day, sure...most of us work.  The 4th of July...celebrating the independence of our country (and don't forget, kids, every patriot was a traitor first).
    But the day set aside for the greatest civil rights and racial equality leader in the United States' history is overlooked.  To me, that day should be one of reflection...we need more of that in the U.S.  Reflection not only of how we live and deal with each other, but on what this country has become and the many strides we've taken thanks to people like Martin Luther King.
    More reflection and internal looks at ourselves would be a good thing.
    I'm taking January 17th off from work for some of that...and to remember someone who changed the cultural landscape of this country in a dramatic and profound way.  I urge you, if you're not already off on the 17th, to do the same.
 

January 9, 2000 ***"Wishing Luck."
    I helped one of my best friends move today.  Well, I didn't do all that much, honestly, but I did help move his bed and sort of see him off on a new adventure.  And, honestly, I'm envious of him.  He's chosen a new path and is hacking the foliage away in search of the trail he seeks.  He called his new place a hovel...it looked like paradise to me.
    It's sometimes odd to see someone, especially a close friend, embark on some new quest.  I know he's so sick of me mentioning this story, but I will tell it once more and then never mention it again.  I met Bunny the first day of fifth grade at Taylor Mill Elementary School.  Well, actually, like the seventh day of school.  We were both part of the twelve or so kids taken from their given homerooms to be put into a split fifth/sixth grade class for the "advanced" kids.  Me?  I didn't know what the hell was going on.  New kid, new school, no friends...horrid.  The first person who spoke to me and that I kind of got to know (my first "girlfriend" too, for what things like that are worth) was Amy Casson, who would die of leukemia during our high school years and was also a close friend of Bunny's.
    And Bunny was the second to speak to me.  In the lunch line.  His first words to me:
    "I just want you to know that I'm forming the Scot Kaeff Hater's Club."
    And he walked back up to the line.
    I look back on it and laugh now, but at the time it was stunning.  Cryptic and bordering on insane.  I walked up to him and started talking to him, curious as to both why he wanted to form this club and how in the hell he even knew my name in the first place.  Thus the beginning of what has been my longest standing friendship.
    From the oddest circumstances sometimes come the greatest rewards.  And that is what I give to him now:  Look beyond the confines of the apartment you're in and the possible trials of maintaining relationships and the hard work ahead.  The fruits of the labors you're embarking on will be wonderful.
    Good luck, mi amigo...vaya con dios.
 

January 4, 2000 ***"Oh, The Horror...."
    *grumbling*  There are certain places and/or foods that I shall never again let pass my lips.  I am currently dealing with the ramifications of eating one of these certain foods, and, truly, it is horrible.  I hesitate to call my current circumstance "food poisoning."  More like stupidity, for eating the stuff again.  It's so hard to determine "food poisoning" anyway.  Could be allergy, could be just your body at the time, could be anything, not even necessarily what you blame.  So, here is my list (I've been hanging with a certain Capricorn too much lately and he's wearing off on me *chuckle*):
    1)  Frisch's Big Boy.  Mmmmmm...tartar sauce.  Yeah, most of the time it's a good meal.  Decent people and all.  However, that one-in-four that hits my intestines like Lawrence Taylor hit Joe Theismann is enough for me to give the eternal veto.
    2)  Chinese (any).  And I love the buffets.  Good stuff going down, but all I have to do is glance behind the scenes at the illegal Mexicans cooking the food (no disrespect meant to other nationalities, but it's always Mexicans cooking and some folks who look vaguely Oriental serving) to know that this is a bad thing.  Terrible that the tastes are so good and the next morning is so bad...worst one night stand ever was with a tasty little buffet near where I live.
    3)  Taco Bell.  I suppose that, if done in moderation, Taco Bell isn't particularly bad...but you have to eat ten freakin' tacos to be even close to filled up.  And the grease in those tacos, and the high school kid scooping the meat out and sweating into your burrito, just kill you.
    4)  Lima Beans.  As a wee child I was often accosted by my parents, forced to eat either lima beans alone, or as part of succotash (lima beans & corn for those of you lucky enough to have never endured this horror).  I'm an adult now *TPOH blaring in the background* and I don't have to.
    5)  Frozen Mexican Food.  There's just something inherently evil about frozen burritos, no matter how tasty they are.  Especially the ones with hot dogs in the middle of them.  Nothing that's easily discernable as meat involved, but just the right thing to hit the spot after a wretched workday.  And to cause you to be ill enough to not have a wretched workday the next day, but rather a wretched hospital stay.
    Having said that, here are places & things I'm going to frequent more often:
    1)  White Castle.  Seem like a contradiction?  Like this should be on the prior list?  Nah.  W.C.'s are awesome.  My only bad reaction to W.C. was one Sunday in high school...had Taco Bell for lunch and W.C. for dinner.  Now, some of you realize that W.C.'s should only be eaten on an empty stomach, as they can be (chemically) a catalyst of hydrogen-like proportions.  I was very ill the next day and, really, that day earned Taco Bell #3 on the previous list.
    2)  Chili.  Local Cincy-style, Texas-style, homemade, whatever.  Chili is awesome and, if it's good chili, it'll clear your sinus cavities too.
    3)  Apples.  There's nothing quite as calming as sitting down with a knife and a ripe, red apple and carving pieces for 15 minutes while letting your mind wander and your tongue tingle to the chill of the apple's goodness.
    4)  Wendy's.  Wendy's has, by far, the fastest service and the best-tasting burgers of any fast food chain in existence.  Cool commercials too.
    5)  Popcorn.  Sheer beauty, and so many ways to have it.
    So that's that.  I'm off to the toilet again to return some unwanted MSG-saturated waste materials, I believe.
 

January 1, 2000 *** "What?  We're Still Here?"
    First, I urge you to check out Bunny & Scot's Y2K Hell On Wheels Tour For God.
It will explain itself once you get there, but it's basically a tour through the Greater Cincinnati area on New Year's Eve and New Year's Morning.  It's picture-heavy so it'll take you a few minutes to load, but it'll be worth it.
    My only comment today, though, is to Peter Jennings:  kiss my ass.
    Y'see, he had Al Franken on ABC's 2000 coverage and Al wanted to let folks know that the Millenium actually begins/ends next year, in 2001.  This is all true.  Al, though, had a paper to that effect signed by such notables as Stephen Hawking and others, which he presented to Peter Jennings.
    Jennings then took Al to a window overlooking Times Square and said that, no matter the evidence, he wasn't going to believe it unless Al could convince all those people that it was not the turn of the Millenium last night.
    What?  Since when does popular opinion decide the absolute truth?  Sure, we live in a democracy, but come on.  If everyone votes and says the sky is green, is it then green?  If we all vote that people breaking other peoples' legs is a sign of affection, will we all be hobbled?
    ABC News...land of the misinformed and those who will kowtow to anyone if it'll drag the ratings up.  News, my friends, is not about popular opinion.  It's about information.  DO NOT TRUST THESE PEOPLE!!!
 

December 31, 1999 ***"Before The War."
    Repent, ye sinners, for the end is nigh!
    Oh, okay, not really, but I'm getting suckered into all this Y2K bullshit just like the rest of y'all.  My plans for this evening?  Hanging with B.  T.'s staying home just in case anything happens.  I think that, secretly, B. and I are hoping something does.
    Well, okay, not really, but imagine it:  all the movies you see, that depict natural disasters but aren't in any way, shape or form realistic, coming true.  I'm not ashamed to say that I went to the pharmacy for a couple extra bottles of insulin & more syringes.  I'm not a doomsday artist, but I'm not stupid either.  If the world goes to hell in a handbasket I want to at least be able to live for a few months to watch, y'know?
    But what if there's a rapture and everyone's car becomes unmanned?  That'd be the worst.  No one has cool cars where I live so there'd be none worth swiping.  I mean, geez...if the rapture happens and I'm not taken, I might as well forget the morality that's kept me from doing such things as torturing gas station attendants and slapping unwitting consumers, huh?
    Ah, okay, not really.  Just think, though, of how your attention has been drawn in the last six months, by the media, to worrying about Y2K and not the upcoming Presidential race, the movements of the Russians, the crumbling world economy and the seeming instability of over half of the governments in the world.  Pardon me...read my entry from December 15th for more on that kind of stuff.
    I urge you all to take care this eve, to not overreact and to maintain some semblance of humanity.
    Otherwise, I might have to blow your fool heads off....

December 30, 1999 ***"Wax Paper & Bastards."
    Okay, I was thinking of last night's entry before I went to bed (things separated by about a half hour in time) and felt that, in retrospect, I should've explained one point a lot better.  You might, if you've read my December 29th entry, think I should carry a roll of wax paper around with me...to cover seats where I plop myself so that my candy ass doesn't stick and cause a mess.
    Y'see, if you read that entry and think the point is validation, you're so wrong, but it's my fault for not explaining it better.  Here's my deal:  the validation is in the creation.  I don't need compliments, but I always like to get them (as anyone does).  I don't need critiques, but I always like to get them (as some folks do).  What I do like is a reaction of some kind from an audience.  Perhaps this comes from my musical side, what with the Fogerty quote and all.  I've played in bands where, at gigs, playing really loud music, we're all into it, hair flying around, sweat dripping onto my bass, no one was near the front of the stage and no one moved.  Just stared.  Like zombies.  Maybe it's just Cincinnati, too.
    That's quite possible.
    Just don't take yesterday's entry as some sort of plea for you to validate my writing or music or whatever.  It's art and the mere creation states simply that it deserves to be here.  But it is always nice to hear what you've got to say.
    Oh, and you want to know why Japan rules the U.S.?  It ain't Toyota or some funky t.v. that can scan police channels while you watch Friends or Barnaby Jones reruns.  It's the fact that in Japan, if someone's sick, they either wear a mask over their face or stay home to keep from infecting their co-workers.  Plain and simple respect.  Granted, there are much more of them in a smaller space, but it comes down to respect.
    Y'see, I'm sick now.  I was fine three days ago.  Now I feel like complete horse shit.  At work on Tuesday, there were many people coughing and hacking, getting over being sick.  I understand...I do.  We have inventory on January 3 and many things need to be done.  This is not about J., who is my partner at work.  She covers her mouth and was as respectful as you could be.  It's about the dudes running around, hacking, not covering their mouths, even when they sneeze.  I mean, that's kindergarten, isn't it?  Really?
    And, of course, with the ventilation being what it is in our building, I got a dose of others' colds, diesel fumes and LP fumes from the warehouse, and the styrene from next door.  It's not surprising that I'm a walking petri dish right now.
    Onward into the new year, the new century, but NOT, no matter what the media tells you, the new millenium....
 

December 29, 1999 ***"A Voice Of My Own."
    The poetry reading tonight was, again, amazing.  The four of us who read each have our own voice.  We're all very distinct in the ways we write, the paths we take in our writing and the conclusions we reach.  Sometimes, though, I wonder if anyone gets it.  My focus when writing is on expression or illumination or discovery.  The focus when reading is to express those basic emotions or ideals and to cause a reaction in the audience.  Some form of sentience beyond what they came in with.  Sometimes it's pretty cool, the reactions.  Sometimes I fail miserably.  I realize this.
    Now, of course, we're not always going to reach everyone...or anyone.  As John Fogerty so aptly described in Lodi:  "If I only had a dollar / for every song I've sung / for every time I had to play / while people sat there drunk."
    Sometimes the only way to know if anyone got anything out of it is to add humor, which is good anyway.  I think some folks, when they read, forget that a) too much of a good thing can be a bad thing (i.e. the human mind can't take an hour's worth of soul-wrenching poetry...they'll short circuit after about twenty minutes and not be able to take in any more) and b) it's not a class or a lecture...have fun with it.  Humor brightens the edges of the darker, more heart-inflected stuff.  I freely admit that, generally, about an hour's worth of poetry is all I can take and then I need a break.  So many images and thoughts that, if taken in a binge, will force a purge, which is not the modus operandi of any poet.
    You see, poetry is novels put onto a single page.  Cutting through the grand mire of muscle and bone around the flow of a story and getting right to the point.  Or a simple observation.  Or a revelation.  Or love or some other emotion or thought that most folks feel, but may never think about.  Poetry is the most wide-ranging genre of literature there is.  Which is part of the reason I think modern culture can't fathom a lot of it...it's not wrapped up in a nice, little yellow & orange paper like a McDonald's cheeseburger.  You have to unwrap good poetry yourself, injecting yourself with it, and vice versa.  The burger itself should be edible, tasty and digestible, but you have to unwrap it first.
    So the next time you go to a poetry reading, or if you never have been, go to one soon, open yourself and don't be afraid to let the people who share themselves with you to know that you appreciate it.  And, maybe, by listening to others' voice, they'll help you find your own.
    Y'see, it's happened to me.  I'm surrounded now by many very, very talented writers (and readers).  It's enough to make me feel very insecure, really.  Why?
    Because I can't compare myself to them and I don't know if what I'm doing has any worth to anyone other than myself.
    Then someone reacts to a poem.  Even if it's a slight nod while I'm reading one, or a chuckle at a funny one, or a question after I'm done reading regarding something I'd said, a comparison I'd made.  That reaction, once I'm done with my part of writing the poem, where the art is to me, in the expression, that reaction is what it's about.
    So, to all those who've talked poetry with me at some point, thanks.  You're helping me to maintain my faith in my voice.
 

December 28, 1999 ***"Foot In Mouth Blues."
    I don't know about you, but I have an incredible proficiency for putting my foot in my mouth...well, not so much my foot, per se, but my keys.  My keyboard keys, that is.  E-mail is evil for so, so many reasons.  What I can say on the phone, with a slight chuckle, a bit of a joke, or a questioning tone in my voice, or even harsh depending on the conversation, turns to a simple line of words on the computer screen.  And you may say, Scot, you're a writer, shouldn't you be able to express yourself in a deliberate manner, able to convey exactly what you mean?
    Yeah, probably.  That's not the reality, though.
    The reality of the matter is that I shouldn't use e-mail to converse with those close to me.  I should use e-mail strictly for business and nothing more.  I get into too much trouble.
    Of course, part of this is due to my bad scheduling as well.  And not remembering things.  And noticing too much.  Y'see, I tend to take notice of just about everything around me at any given time.  My scope is much too wide.  Probably why I complain about other peoples' myopic views so much...because my view is too wide.  Sometimes I fade from conversations for a few moments when something else catches me.  It's not like I have a fugue or something...I just drift and come back, usually not missing a thing.
    Maybe I need lithium.  Or thorazine.  Or a few valium and a couple days to sleep.
    No, no, no...of course not.  I just need to watch myself and realize my faults and inadequacies and be more prepared to cover them before I end up insulting someone.
    I know I'm difficult to be around.  I know I'm overanxious sometimes.  I know I'm too intense sometimes.  I know I have a temper that, try as I might to restrain it, still comes out sometimes.
    I realize this stuff better than any of you do.
    Y'see, you can walk away from me.
    I can't....
 

December 27, 1999 ***"Ice & Sperm."
    Let me just say this:  learn how to drive or stay the f*ck home.  Here's the thing I don't understand about drivers in Ohio, Kentucky and Indiana, for the most part.  Granted, there are those who don't conform to these standards, thank god.  Why on earth do you slow down, sometimes to well under the given speed limit, when it rains and then speed up and pretend you're in the d*mn Indianapolis 500 when it's snowing?  Why?  Can someone give me a line on that?
    I drove home tonight, from Frankfort, in blowing snow and icy conditions and had people in four-wheel drive vehicles riding my butt...do they think they're gods just because they have such vehicles?  Helpful hint:  it doesn't matter on ice, folks.  Saw plenty of wrecks, too.  Probably caused by people not being careful.
    Please, for your own sake as well as mine, be careful when you're driving in these weird conditions.  And if you do take a notion to tailgate me, remember that in KY as well as many other states, if you hit me from behind it's always your fault (read into this whatever legal things you like...they're all true.)
    T. and I had a wonderful weekend, a great Christmas.  It's so nice to be with someone who knows me, gets me books she thinks I'll like, an awesome Tampa Bay jacket (and they whipped Green Bay yesterday, 29 to 10, and are on the brink of winning the NFC Central and getting a first round bye in the playoffs.)  She's the greatest.
    And somehow, this weekend, we started talking about sperm donors.  I'm against the human genome project and such things, so I sort of have a problem with sperm donations (don't we have enough lonely kids already?)  However, my response to T. in the car after she asked me if I'd do it was as such:
    "I don't know...I think I'd have a problem with it.  But then again, I wonder what it would pay."
    Yes, I'm still a capitalist and a child of the 70's/80's...you can't take the environment out of the kid, huh?
    Oh, and I knew the weather would be awful today...I washed my truck yesterday.  Typical and you can set your sundial by it....
 
 

December 24, 1999 ***"Zevon The Ruler...."
    First, Merry Christmas to everyone...I hope everyone has a wonderful weekend and makes merry with their friends and loved ones and just gets gonzo crazy happy.
    Second, let me tell you, the new Warren Zevon album, Life'll Kill Ya, is going to be released in mid-January and it is incredible.  The songwriting and the musicianship are superb.  It's right up there, to me, with Transverse City and Excitable Boy.  Just plain awesome from start to finish.  Even the cover of Steve Winwood's Back In The High Life is pretty darn cool, thanks to Mr. Zevon's touches to it.
    My favorite cuts are...well...I can't name them because, literally, the whole album is, from start to finish, a keeper.  No filler, like you'll find on most stuff that comes out nowadays.  And, of course, if you know me you know that I'm a Zevon fan, so I may be a bit biased...but not here.  I'll freely admit that Mutineer, his last studio disc, was only okay, though it did have its gems (Seminole Bingo, Mutineer and Rottweiler Blues).
    Life'll Kill Ya, though, is 40 minutes and 48 seconds of rock n' roll in the truest Zevon fashion.  Bouncy, up music tinged with clever, sarcastic and sometimes snide lyrics that just, to me, can't help but put a smile on your face.  His artistry is, along with his musicianship and melodic sense, his ability to juxtapose the dark and the light.
    My only example to give is the opening verse to what is, on first listen, the coolest tune on the disc, For My Next Trick I'll Need A Volunteer:
    "Well, I can saw a woman in two/
     But you won't want to look in the box when I'm through/
     I can make love/
     Disappear/
     For my next trick I'll need a volunteer."
    But it's not nearly all fun & games and snickering looks at love's frustrations.  Check out Life'll Kill Ya, the title track, for some serious blows at life in general.  Okay, okay...the best cuts?  Aside from all of 'em?  Okay, my favorites:  Fistful Of Rain, Don't Let Us Get Sick along with  the aforementioned Life'll Kill Ya and For My Next Trick I'll Need A Volunteer.
    If you're as sick as I am of the current crap (is there any other way to describe it?) on the radio and being hawked by major record labels, do yourself a favor and check out Warren Zevon's newest when it comes out in January.
    And many thanks to my friend Nick at Artemis Records for throwing the advance copy of the disk my way for play on Scriptus Live.  You rule!
 

December 22, 1999 ***The Edges."
    Okay, I'm writing this the night before the 22nd.  Just to let you know.  These thoughts are before the day they're credited to.  As if it matters.  But I'm trying to blur the edges, smear them away and make the curbs between things in my life more crumbly.  Easier to traverse.  Lots of stuff going down.  Check out the DKP sample pages & events page to see what I've spent the evening on (revamping things.)  Several readings coming up.  After the one in February I'm going to take a break from the live thing for a couple months & recharge the batteries.  I don't know what to do next now.  I feel like Alice Cooper after he beheaded himself onstage...where do you go?  Where should I go from the totally cool audience participation reading of last week?
    I think I'll lay low next Wednesay, just read maybe 10 poems, at least six of them being new & unpublished pieces, and step down.  I read way too long last week anyway, what with the impromptu telling of the noogie-bashing story.  C'est la vie.
    I had the following written in as my signature on e-mails for a while:
    "The only sin is to repent willingly."
    Over the last week or so, that has proven to be a prophetic statement for me.  I've been on the edge of giving in, repenting my individualism and character, forsaking them for a career for which I have no affinity.
      I will not bow to the bastards and become a sinner against my soul.
 

December 20, 1999 ***"Running, Hiding, Dying."
    To be able to run, just for a while.  To hide just for a few moments from the downpour of tar...yes, tar.  The things that stick to me and weight me down, that gather the little problems and hold them against my body.  The morning is tar, my bed is tar, my toothbrush is covered in tar and it holds things in that I should say.  They never make it beyond my lips.
    I'm insulated, both from the inside and the outside.  I want to touch, but the urge to run is stronger.  I want to sing, but the urge to hide is stronger.  I want to live, but the urge to die is stronger.
    My cocoon is unbearably thick right now.  My sugar, my weight, my strained emotions, my career, my utter frustrations.  Even for all the joy that a few things and people bring me, I'm still low.
    And I don't want to burden anyone reading this anymore.  Funny...when I started this journal it was for things like this, not socio-political commentary and the like.  Evolution.  Devolution.
 

December 19, 1999 ***"Creamsicles Again?"
    Please don't put me down or judge me until you've read this entire entry.  Just hear me out.  My beloved Tampa Bay Buccaneers, who came into today's game 9-4, were publicly flogged by the Oakland Raiders, 45 to 0, making them fly home 9-5.  They're still in first in the NFC Central, which is good, but good lord.  45 to nothing?  Here's the thing:  though it wasn't on t.v. or radio, from the accounts and notes I've heard, it came down to Bucs mistakes...as if they were wearing the old creamsicle orange uniforms again.  It happens occasionally...like they're regressing or something.
    A new quarterback, a rookie.  A terrific defense (usually.)  And yet there are the setbacks.
    I swear that sometimes it was much easier to be a fan when the Bucs didn't contend at all.  When I only expected five or six wins a season and a few highlights here and there.
    And for those of you unacquainted, yes, though a sensitive (?) poet-type and a musician, I'm also a sports fan.  It's where I expend my competitive impulses.  I don't think of creating and art as any kind of competition.  Battles of the bands and poetry slams aren't interesting to me.  They're based on opinion...sports are based on talent, execution, heart and the final score.
    *sigh*  But that's enough about that.  I've railed about it a lot anyway.
    "It's A Wonderful Life" is on t.v. tonight...and as sick as it is, I love this movie.  Jimmy Stewart.  One of the best actors of all time.  Right up there with Christopher Walken and John Malkovic.
    Until next time...oh, and go Bucs *wink*!!!
 

December 18, 1999 ***"Reading My Soul Pt. 2."
    The reading at The Cabaret last night was terrific in all senses.  Brenda Saylor was stupendous...she's so nervous upon going up to the mic, but once there her delivery is so fluid and her words are so honest and straight to what she's talking about that it's just a pleasure to listen to.  Greg, my Scriptus Live cohort, gave a tremendous reading as well.  Leah Maines and Lonna Kingsbury were, as usual, striking in both delivery and material.
    And me?  Let me just give my thanks to the audience who went along with my "audience participation" poetry.  I read "Window Seat" from Tripping Darkly and got the folks to clap a beat for me to scat the poem to.  Awesome.  I was so afraid I'd be left hanging, but everyone came through and made it very special.  I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did.  Read a bunch of new stuff that, for the most part, got a decent response.  It's hard to tell sometimes.  Occasionally I feel more like a comedian up on the mic, as inciting laughter is as much response as a poetry reading generally will gather until you're done and there is applause (you hope.)  But that's okay.  I had fun and the comments I received afterwards were positive.  Another step in the right direction, I suppose.
    My apologies to T., as well, for bursting forth into the story about the riding crop.  Angie, you owe me dinner *smile*.
    And tonight on Scriptus Live, we were graced with the presence of two fantastic poets, Margareth Miller and Denise Brennan Watson (information on them is on the S.L. page.)  Truly a wonderful weekend thus far.
    Christmas is around the corner, next Saturday, actually.  This may be the last journal entry until after the holiday festivities, so to all those who either by choice or just unwittingly happen upon these pages, a happy holiday to you *bowing*.
 

December 15, 1999 ***"Anarchy?  Stupidity?"
    So last night on 20/20 II (the CBS...is it CBS? weekly news magazine w/o the use of Andy Rooney) they had an interview with some kids/young adults who'd taken part in the Seattle protests of the WTO (World Trade Organization) meetings there a few weeks ago.  One fellow, who looked like he'd spent his entire life living fine in mommy & daddy's posh house, spoke of being one with nature.  Another claimed to be an anarchist.  And a girl claimed that she didn't agree with our present government and, therefore, the government and laws did not apply to her.
    Here's a newsflash, sweetheart:  if you live here, then you, by the simple fact that you eat food here, work here, study here or do whatever here, are part of the system.  You cannot have one without the other.  To live in the system and to be bound by the rules of the system go together.  You cannot have one without the other.  A philosopher I studied had a name for this...I think it was Voltaire or Bentham...one of those guys...but I can't remember it.  Simple fact is that if you live in the United States and take part in any activities then you are a citizen and are therefore bound by the same laws that the government sets.
    And I don't like it anymore than you do, but it's like an athlete who signs a five year contract and then sits out after two years because he wants more money.  NO WAY!  You do the crime, do the time.  You play, you pay.  And I would say that if you want to change things, you'd better vote and make your attempt to make them better...but I suppose a self-professed anarchist wouldn't vote, huh?
    Anarchy is, simply put, to be void of any form of government or order.  So if I wanted to shoot one of these sods in the gourd and take his food, that would be legit, right?  Yup.  Whether by guilt, fear or respect, we need a form of government.  There are too many (greedy) people in the world.  Change comes slowly.  We know that.  But you must set the wheels in motion for change to even be possible.
    Throwing stones at police officers doesn't begin any change.
    Violence doesn't begin any change.
    As much as I agree with the points made that government is in a shambles due to greed and corruption, I do not agree with the methods of these people in Seattle.  As Gandhi said:
    "Belief in non-violence is based on the assumption that human nature in its essence is one and therefore unfailingly responds to the advances of love...The non-violent technique does not depend for its success on the goodwill of dictators, for a non-violent resister depends on the unfailing assistance of god which sustains him throughout difficulties which would otherwise be considered insurmountable."
    In other words, the non-violent way is the best, most effective method.  The Seattle protesters should have staged a non-violent, intelligent, well thought-out rebuttal to the activities going on that they did not agree with.  The most effective protest is done by teaching, exposing truths and being the rational one.  And, if violence is waged against your protest, again, from Gandhi:
    "He who cannot protect himself or his nearest and dearest or their honor by non-violently facing death, may and ought to do so by violently dealing with the oppressor.  He who can do neither of the two is a burden."
    So, you see that Gandhi was NOT a pacifist, but a non-violentist (a term coined, I believe, by one of my college professors.)
    And the grand irony in the 20/20 II television show's report is that it was juxtaposed with a report on two native Cambodians who escaped the Khmer Rouge regime of Pol Pot and made it to the United States after their families were butchered.  The Khmer Rouge were, in essence, the new Nazis of Southeast Asia.  Genocide of the "impure."  Shooting (pardon the pun) for a completely farm-based, egalitarian society based on the removal of cities and those with money, intelligence or talent of any kind.  Sound like what a few of the folks from Seattle wanted?  Sure, not exactly, but they smack of similarities, huh?  These two guys, who had and have more guts and strength than the grand majority of people you'll meet in your lifetime, escaped from a place of, literally, no government except the guns and martial law.  Anarchy.
    Fun, huh?
    My advice to the freaks and losers (sorry...couldn't help those ad hominem attacks...I apologize) is to go read some Emerson, some Gandhi and some Hunter Thompson, have a sip of apple schnapps, and think about what's going on and the best way to go about changing things.  Use your heads.  Don't jump onto a bandwagon the world going to hell until you actually take a look at the world and figure it out, along with how you fit into it.
    I don't question your point of view...I question your motives and actions.
 

December 14, 1999 *** "Driving & Crazy."
    Welcome in to the third installment of my online journal...I hope it illicits as many responses as the first two, which are still published at the links up there in the introduction.  Do check them out for background if this is your first trip into my world.
    The holidays, my friends, are eating me alive.  I've not yet heard the din of jingle bells being played in a local McDonald's and already I'm ready to puke.  And, y'know, this holiday should be wonderful.  My family is around, I'm in love with a beautiful woman, I have a poetry reading coming up on Friday.  But I'm also tormented by things like a Garth Brooks Christmas album.
    *sigh*  Enough of that.  I'm also in training this week at work.  Driving to Cincinnati (Tri-County, actually) every day.  Let me tell you...from my house to where I need to go, via I-75, is 71 miles.  Via I-275 (the loop around the area) it's 93 miles.  Those are all round trip.  Here's the thing:  they both take almost exactly an hour either at 7 am or 4 pm due to traffic.  But going around I-275 is much, much less stressful as there's slightly less traffic, so that's the way I went today and how I'll go the rest of the week.  I can picture the frown when I turn in my expense sheet, though.
    C'est la vie.
    Here are my early New Year Resolutions, crazy as they may be:
    1)  I will release another book, likely not only poetry but journal-like entries and some essays of sorts.  I will seek an agent once again and strain against the yoke of modern bookmaking that tells me that poetry does not sell and cannot be lucrative.  If it is art, and it is true, it can be lucrative and viable.
    2)  I will take hold of the reigns that are currently tangled about my career and make decisions based upon what I need the the future I want.
    3)  I will try to remain calm when surrounded by fools and martyrs.  I will not vent my anger in the presence of those who do not deserve it...but only when in private council with those who have angered me.  I will not back down.
    4)  I will remain true to my love, T., and do everything I can to keep our love fresh, exciting, stimulating and wonderful.  I will cultivate my truths in hers.
    5)  I will, one way or another, fight my way back to being a working musician again.  Be it with DaVinci's Burden, as a sideman or on my own, I will do this.
    6)  I will forgive, but not forget.
    7)  I will forgive, but not forget.
    8)  I will forgive, but not forget.
    9)  I will forgive, but not forget.
  10)  Resolutions 6 through 9 are dedicated to politicians, lawyers, managers, television producers, record executives, whoever came up with these damn Old Navy clothing commercials I'm being inundated with and all evil ogres of their ilk.  May your souls rot in hell whilst the dogs of truth feed upon your rotten hearts on earth.