Listen: It's No Secret

            I’m trying to be mindful of the way I listen. Not just for music but in the way I interact with people. The human connection is largely about listening. I find myself wondering about what I look like when I’m listening. Someone will be talking and I’m thinking about how I’m standing, or in what direction I’m facing, or if I’m looking the person in the eye. Do I look sincere while I’m listening? I don’t feel sincere. I often wonder what the person who’s doing the talking is thinking about how I’m listening. It’s a strange concept the idea of listening because in many respects it's more than just paying attention or giving the illusion of paying attention, it’s the human connection. It’s the need we all have to be heard. Yet, I must admit I sometimes take listening lightly. It’s not always easy to listen. Sometimes I’ll give people my full attention when frankly they don’t deserve it. There’s a fine line between listening and being abused. Some people are selfish and needy and demand your attention to the point of insanity. Shut up! Thank you.  

Killing Spiders

            I’ve been killing spiders. I use to have a catch and release program but last night and today I found it easier just to whack them. I don’t feel good about it, but the little buggers are like cockroaches. They multiply real fast. I like having a few around during the summer months when the mosquitoes are prevalent. I’ll let one spider keep a web on a window seal as a natural defense for my skin, but it’s winter now, and the spiders are a little too comfortable. I guess everybody wants the easy life, even spiders. They do fascinate me but from now on they’re on a quota system.  

A Good Thing

The reports are in. It was a down year for poetry and short fiction but an up year for songs which exceeded all expectations.

            I like to take inventory at the end of the year. I’m a little late this year. It’s already January the sixth. Some people collect cars or like to have money stashed away. I collect poems, fiction and music. As the years pass and I look back on my collection I’m reminded of where and when I wrote a poem and the state of my constitution at the time. Some poems are bleak and others are down right quirky. But that’s the nature of poetry and why it’s so damn exciting. You never know what you’re going to get, or how many you’ll end up with when it’s all said and done, which is a good thing, a real good thing. 

The New Year

I spent New Years Eve at James M. Cain’s old house in Beachwood Canyon, I was in Hollywoodland, and it felt like it. The house was spectacular. It was built in the late twenty’s and it had old Los Angeles written all over it. The tile work was something to behold.

            The matron of the house liked me, and at one point she asked me to dance with her. You don’t say no to the matron. I got on the dance floor, and sure enough her husband was threatened by the events, and he started to dance as well. No big whoop, I didn’t want dance in the first place, so he kind of saved me. 

            There were people singing Karaoke at the bar, the house had its own bar. All and all it was a pretty good time, although I’m not much for Karaoke. On tis night it felt like a false excitement. 

            I went to bed and was awoken in the middle of the night by the sounds of sirens. It sounded like fire trucks going back and forth. I found out later that the arsonist was captured on Fairfax and Sunset later that night. The arsonist was going nuts. He was lighting cars on fire and setting carports a blaze. He must've not liked cars. He started over fifty fires in four days before he was captured. People were really upset about it. There was a foreboding in the city, a mystery that brought in the New Year. 

The Holidays

The holidays. We have a family tradition of making tamales for the holidays. This year was no different. They were tasty. My friend Lou makes them for his family as well. Lou is a tamale maker. He made so many this year that we had to go back to East Los Angeles to buy more masa. He picked me up and we made the now familiar loop, from East LA to the Venice Room, to a little bar in San Gabriel. It’s always good to see Lou.

            I have mixed emotions about the holidays. I still call it Christmas, which is nowadays, somehow not PC. I really don’t care about being PC. It’s a pain in the ass how sensitive people have become. I guess my mixed emotions come from losing a year and gaining another. We’re going to take this one away, but we’re going to give a new one. It’s conflicting. It’s some kind of man made mumble jumbo that helps categorize the past, future and present. It's necessary I suppose, but kind of strange when you think about Jesus and Christmas. 

Dust

            I got the mastered version of Dust Covered Man back from New York and posted it to Bandcamp here’s the link, http://theglenlivers.bandcamp.com/track/dust-covered-man

            I really should work on The Glen Livers page, promotion is one of my least favorite things to do. Some people love it. I find it offensive in some way. I guess it’s not that big of a deal, and I suppose I can even have fun with it at some point. I should toss up some pictures and set it up right. I’ll try to do that over the holidays. Check it out. Post a comment. Let me know you’re out there. Good bye.

The Soul Healing

            I went to see my spiritual healer yesterday. It sounds funny, spiritual healer. If I had a better word I'd use it. Some people go to church and some people go to temple, I go to a healer. There’s a lot to heal with all the muck in the world.

The sessions are always the same. We’ll talk for about an hour and then we get down to business. She’ll lay me on a table and I’ll have my doubts. I always have doubts. At first I don’t feel any different, then, things get heavy without me realizing it. She’s a powerful woman. When it was over I barely could stand. I was light headed. It’s hard to explain, but my arms went numb, during the healing. I was sweating like a racehorse. It was as though I ran a few miles. I was covered in sweat. It was strong.

            When I left her place I drove over the hill on Coldwater Canyon. I was driving at a safe speed when I noticed bright lights from a SUV right on my tail. I was trying to be calm, but I found myself getting agitated. The SUV was messing up my high. What’s the rush? I’m not sure why but there are a lot of morons in Los Angeles. They can’t slow down. They’re desperate. At best they’ll get there a few minutes faster and everybody knows that, but they can’t help themselves. It’s dorky. It seemed there was a lot of bad drivers last night. There were cars running stop signs. It was too much. You people need to get it together, and fast, I mean slow down.