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Bukowski’s Ghost, A Murder, A Lawyer, A 2-bit Whore

View from Castle Hills
View from Castle Hills

Bukowski’s Ghost

I’m renting a room that’s big enough for my bed, books, desk and an electronic music studio. The house sits on a hill with a view of the Pacific. There’s a swimming pool and a neurotic husky. My housemates are four men, whose lives are shaped by modest but weird ambitions: a specialist in running shoes, whose room is like a shoestore, a Brit expat slumlord who flies in from Asia from time to time to evict tenants, a younger man from El Cajon with a Charger tattoo on his arm and Norma our landlady, a Wagnerian soprano in her 60s, who obviously was hot in an earlier time.

I’m moving as soon as I finish writing this fucking novel. I want to live where I feel inspired. Panama, maybe, Thailand or Brazil, someplace warm where women are less demanding and I don’t have to deal with a lot of white people. I returned to this city from a hermitage in the Northwest (speaking of white people), but reluctantly. The constant presence of the military here seems strange. A third of the population are living on money from military budgets, and other kinds of government employees: cops, postal workers, hookers…

I’m doing a brain research project. My brain in particular, trying to understand how it is that the pianist that lives next door can’t recall his own name, but sight reads Beethoven sonatas with perfectly nuanced interpretation. Understanding this may reveal how the idiots in uniform running around the harbor manage to avoid blowing everything up with their nuclear toys, which they guard like upset marmosets, while their spouses are fucking civilians or sublimating by shopping, doing yoga and driving silver SUVs. But I digress (they have a right to shop and fuck whomever they please as it’s a free country, in part thanks to the efforts of their husbands.)

Music and writing is my way of sublimating sexual energy. I didn’t intend to abstain from sex, I’m an involuntary celibate;  20 to 50 years older than the typical stimulator of my limbic response and living on Social Security. Panama is the answer. In the meantime, I’m kayaking 50 miles a week, trying to stay in shape. How long can that go on? Besides this motivation to keep my blood pressure in a habitable range, I’m addicted to the feeling of freedom, as I pass Pt. Guijarros, beyond the dogs of war, parked in their aquatic stables.

People here call San Diego paradise because of its mild climate and (compared to LA) clean air. Native Americans had another name for the place; the vag. I can see why when I’m offshore in the kayak. The two hills that enclose the town lie on either side of a steep canyon and extend like the legs of a huge reclining woman opened at an angle of 137°, with the cove forming a vulva where the legs join.

Now that Orgasmic Meditation has put me in touch with the infinite feminine, I can’t avoid the absence of sexual intimacy in my life that compels me sometimes to push past my antipathy for the so often disappointing nature of human beings, to produce something useful for paid publication. But this isn’t why I’m writing about the murders in Del Mar, where I lived before I left to become a hermit in Mendocino. I didn’t know about these murders until a year after I returned to San Diego–quite recently. The murders happened while I was away. I knew both victims; one was a vet I’d brought my cat to and the other a radiologist and exotic car collector, who had trained his cat to jump through hoops. I gave my Alfa Spider to him in exchange for his 325is that my ex-girlfiend used to dog with. The  two murders happened several months apart; they were both bludgeoned at their homes and their corpses were left along a road within a mile of each other and yet it appears the murders weren’t connected in press or police reports, which seemed more strange because the radiologist was found on Squaw Valley Road and the vet’s body was found about a half mile away on Luna de Miel, although his home in Del Mar was a good 6 miles distant.

I happened upon the reports of their deaths accidentally, while researching the more recent demise of a lady lawyer that owed me money. It was more upsetting that she died without paying me since she was related to an “unfaithful” former lover. It was double jeopardy. Is fate entitled to both cuts? I came across the notices of the vet and the radiologist in a list of unsolved murders published in the Tribune at the time when my former legal counselor met her end coincident with an election  in which the paper was  pushing a stable of Republican candidates, names are irrelevant, called slime balls because nothing ever stuck to them despite they demonstrated together the morality of a pair of hungry rodents.

With the money gone, as if in the wind with the ashes of the dead woman, I began looking into these deaths, to see what connection they might have, aside from their connection with me.

The radiologist was unmarried, a sexually active bachelor. In my experience, his interest in human relationship was purely transactional. But he was interesting. His family were white collar New England Jews. He was small and athletic and training for the Olympics, a gymnast, and he left school and joined the circus. I knew this about him from our conversations, when trading cars, and also that his only family was a sister in New Hampshire and a housecat named, Tom, that he’d trained to jump through hoops of fire like a circus act. The odds are good my ex had fucked him, too.

The vet on the other hand had a reputation for misanthropy but was excellent with other species and respected for his expertise by wealthy denizens of Del Mar who brought their dogs, cats, birds and reptiles to him but loved by none. My own experience with him convinced me that an ounce of prevention was well worth more than a cure yet I commiserated with him for his misanthropic attitude, given his clientele, the residents of Del Mar, Solana Beach and Rancho Santa Fe, expensive communities that had initially coalesced around people with liberal environmental values escaping from Los Angeles but gradually decayed into a stagnant pond of bourgeoisie and Republicans jealous of each others homes and fearful about dropping a rung on the ladder of net worth as the waves of Chinese and Saudi immigrants bought their way into the United States.

I  learned about the dead woman and began by contacting her daughter. She literally ran, when she saw me coming toward her. I felt there was some undelivered communication.

Make Sex Affordable!

Make Sex Affordable! Subsidize Sexwork!

A majority of men over 50 suffer depression. For many it’s clinical. Many suffer for 30 to 50 years as we grow less resilient and become susceptible to other problems. The economic cost of the consequences creates an enormous burden on society.

Disconnection with others is depressing. Physical intimacy and sexual fulfillment are our deepest connection and necessary to well-being. Intimacy declines in marriages, usually disappearing when procreation isn’t a goal and partners lose desire for each other. Throughout history, Intimacy has been provided by professionals. Today professional intimacy is affordable only for a minority of those who are well-off and not affected by social stigma or shame associated with sexual desire.

Sex work is a demanding, nuanced service, requiring finesse and empathetic sensitivity. This petition advocates a solution that directly challenges ignorance, fear and superstition and aims to produce a dramatic reduction of suffering for tens of millions and savings of billions in medical costs that are indirect costs of depression. More than this, an open conversation diffuses the stigma that causes problems for all ages, with impacts on every aspect of American culture.

I’ve been a counselor to the elderly and visited institutions where contraction in the lives of older men and women is palpable in a visible process of separation that ends in death. The idea of subsidizing sex work seems outrageous now but its far more shocking that we ignore the problem before us. We need only look within ourselves and imagine what the future holds for each of us to see it.

Sign this petition, make a statement about your own future now!

Make Sex Affordable! Subsidize Sexwork!

A Purpose In Life & Sonata 111

I came to this planet as an agent of Grace. I’m an artist. I use images, gestures, words, objects, sounds, music, dance, performance, events using skills of observation and expression to celebrate the beautiful, sometimes unlikely or disguised. I value freedom, for beauty lives in the eyes of beholders and so, beauty is granted by free observation.

Gesture 111  – An Adaptation of L.V. Beethoven’s Opus 111

Work proceeding at this writing as I score Sonata (or Sonnet) 111.  I’m sure to change the last part and I envision unconventional staging I must describe ( while this should work well with conventional orchestra resources for some performances).

By way of inceptional background:

…reading Thomas Mann’s,  Dr. Faustus, written in Munich in 1943 , under aerial bombardment by the allies, it’s a fictional biography of a composer in Germany at the turn of the century and through WWI, a time when autonomous music was in the ritual of life, love and religion for the bourgeois culture. Mann knew music. Between Mann’s  Faustus and Philip Radcliffe’s Beethoven’s String Quartets (1965), I saw a continuity from before Palestrina, through, Bach, Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, Wagner, Mahler… Schoenberg. The thesis of Dr. Faustus is an extraordinary statement about dehumanization of human beings through culture. Mann’s story draws a distinction about the satanic: in suppressing expressions of our animal nature, bourgeois spirituality makes nature evil. Mann’s man makes a deal with nature, such that he creates a monumental work in music in exchange for his soul.

Examining Opus 111 sonata #32 led me to experiment in this piece with Beethoven’s rhythmic sensibility in musical ideas, motives, etc., that we hear in pieces by Bach, Vivaldi, Mendelsohn, Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, and so on. In Dr. Faustus, Sonata #32 is deconstructed to draw a distinction about the nature of freedom and the premise that creation requires transformation,  when a form becomes another form. Piano Sonata #32, Op. 111 was described in Beethoven’s time as the epitome and final statement of what is possible in sonata.
Michael
July 7, 2015

My Screenplay

Saw Ghandi hanging out at Denny’s
Asked if I know Antonio Gaudi.
Dave, the manager, eyes darting arrows of service,
Warmed us up with hot dark coffee.
A hundred million kindnesses later,
Eternally seeking opportunities of love,
A young man, early twenties, quietly left.
Can’t breathe, he said, without a smoke
(Muted trumpet solo)
Life comes with the territory
Inexorably.

 

Here’s the deal:

I did make some movies and I did want to make a feature film. I was really interested in the magical technology of motion pictures. I loved the way the camera interpreted things by eliminating from within the frame of the image and in motion and in sequencing, revealing meta ideas. I felt I knew what I was doing about anything except what I was doing in the moment. It felt this way to paint, make music, write.

I learned to be invisible in school. Imagine a small Jewish child in an elementary school for children of conservative Christian parents, in classes led by teachers whose savior my ancestors crucified. (Is it PC to capitalize, Nazi?)  An unintended consequence of hiding out was that it masked and fortified immensity an artist’s ego. I’m now a phenomenon; freak of nature, for-mí-da-blé. In some ways.

Pages from the screenplay:

10 A Man and a Woman and a Man and a Woman and a Man and.. (dragged)

11 A Man and a Woman and a Man and a Woman and a Man and.. (dragged) 1

12 A Man and a Woman and a Man and a Woman and a Man and.. (dragged) 2

Jesus In Therapy

JesusJesus went to his weekly session with Mel, a  therapist from New York that he’s been seeing about his difficulty with intimacy.

“When Mom told me about the virgin birth, I couldn’t grasp it. In the first place, the relationship of genitals to reproduction wasn’t clear to me at all. I was twelve years old and I woke up with a hard-on and didn’t know what to make of it. She gave me the low down on sexual reproduction and, when she came to the part about, “that’s how you were born”, she said, “however, in your case,” etc.

I questioned her about this virgin birth idea. She then told me that it isn’t authentically true for her to say virgin, since, although the masculine part was provided by the holy spirit, however, it was embodied, a kind of coitus took place, whether or not a hymen was broken in the process.

She didn’t go any further with this conversation. My father, Joseph, was embarrassed, when I brought it up. It may have been then that I decided it was my fault that my real father, the holy spirit, wasn’t showing up in my life, because something was wrong with me; that I’m not worthy of his love, that I’m not enough just as I am and it was this decision that compelled me to prove myself worthy of his love and guided my every step, literally led me to the cross.

Citizens Unite for Subsidized Sex!

30″ Radio Spot:

ANNOUNCER: Everyone needs intimate touch. Sex pros could make this possible for you for a few hundred or thousand dollars. Intimacy should be affordable for everyone that needs it, especially older men and women on fixed incomes, who face neotony in the sex market. Subsidize sex work! Donate now to Citizens United to Subsidize Sex* Help CUSS put a smile on every [adult consenting] face in the world. 

… End of Announcement …

 Campaign for positive sex positive activism

Even when sex positive activists speak about sexually repressive political policy, media sensationalizes this sex geekdom as if it was a sect opposing middle class values rather than the expression of middle class materialism at apogee.. Reactionary rhetoric about freedom, justice and equality just isn’t enough to enroll our culture in growing up and sexually we’re as if stuck somewhere in pre-adolescence. To shift this, we must talk about the real possibility of sexual freedom instead of polarizing sex ideology. This is the one thing we have to learn from the success of a  poorly written and less well informed sensationalist novel that has done more to inform a popular movement toward open sexual communication than has the work of all sexologists since Kinsey.

Arguing for the validity of sex work is the same as arguing for breathing.  We must bring advocacy to supporting sex work. This is critical to causing a  sex positive cultural transformation. To inspire support, we must enroll people in a possibility that they can get their sex needs met. For this, we must address the economics.

A quality sex worker is the most costly personal service imaginable. Sex service is more demanding, artful and costly to provide than are services of most medical practitioners, lawyers and your average rock star. It would interest those outside the circle of sex friendly activists to understand why sex is costly and we need to enroll them in a more powerful place about this in terms of their needs and values.

I’m not inspired to support an industry that provides services only to the wealthy by entrepreneurs who are naturally dismissive of those those who can’t afford their fees because they feel called upon to defend the value of their own bodies. But the cost of sex, however justifiable,  discriminates against all people on a budget, for instance, the elderly, the majority of whom are in dire need of intimate contact and many of whom suffer depression as a result of isolation that could be ameliorated by intimate physical contact.

For the mainstream to be moved to invest more than fascination with anything sexual, the sex industry must address this economic disparity and advocate for making sex economically accessible to any person who needs it, providing always that it’s a client’s responsibility to enroll a provider in serving them, even when money is no issue. The efficacy of this idea is demonstrated by affordable internet porn.

Were money not an issue, the sex industry would expand, and so would freedom of sexual communication. There would be more interest in sexual relationship workshops, especially about how to successfully enroll a sex partner, whether for pay or not.

The need for public support of sex is unquestionable. Sexual expression is directly related to mental and physical well-being. Physical illnesses arise from depression and sexual fulfillment  empowers high self esteem. Nearly half the men in America over the age of 60 suffer depression and this rate is highest for African American men.  It’s inarguable that healthy sex can turn this around and it’s apparent that virtual sex (pornography) doesn’t deliver.

Physical intimacy is more empowering than virtual intimacy (pornography). Porn may have  therapeutic value, but it’s no substitute for real interpersonal relationship and physical touch by another obviously offers something substantially different.

The argument for decriminalization of sex work disappears within a conversation for supporting sex work. But there’s no integrity unless we insist that sex for pay is accessible to those who need it, regardless of economic circumstances. Universal medical care and education wasn’t always a commonly held position. Access to opportunities for sexual expression should not be limited by affordability to the economically privileged few and we must begin this conversation now if we’re going to change this.

Citizens United for Subsidized Sex advances the conversation for free sexual expression to a possibility of putting puritanism in its proper place in America–16th century New England.

Financial support for sex work questions the absurdity of the underlying stigma because it unconceals the way the status quo, with its economic disparity, supports the mystique, glamour and narcissism, rather than the inherent value of intimacy.  Making sex activism positive undermines the conservative strategy to denounce political leaders through innuendo about their sexual behavior.

Superstitious, ignorant and sex-phobic psychologies will be awakened by the notion but unless we put the question of paid sex work on a positive footing by making it progressive rather than reactionary, these phobics will continue to focus on hyperbolic moral rhetoric and sex positive spokespersons will continue to react. Isn’t it ironic that the most sexually repressive culture in the world today offers the possibility of sex with 90 virgins to reward it’s heroes, while this culture criminalizes sexual transactions.

We have state gambling concessions (lotteries), cigarette and alcohol taxes that support government programs and education. We have an increasing national debt because of our support of hugely costly outmoded weapons systems. We are still building freeways for automobiles in the face of global warming and the rising cost of energy production, electric, nuclear or fossil fuels. We are able to afford the cost of addressing the sexual needs of our population.

There’s another benefit to having this conversation:

Valuing sex more appropriately substantiates the economic aspect of all sexual relationships, including monogamous marriage. People naturally want to get what they pay for even when the transaction is called, marriage. Divorces result from economic issues associated with breakdowns in the sexual transaction as well as shared cohabitation expense. In this paradigm, the idea of a spouse as a chattel in a relationship is realistic because ownership comes with obligation. The only way to change this is economic support so that spouses who “fall out of love” can get their sexual needs met without leaving partners and children behind in broken homes.

The sex positive community-speak has assumed a high moral ground of meeting the needs of people in their communities. This aligns with and supports sex workers, who argue justifiably for their own needs, it is only coincidental that their needs involves sexual freedom.  Justifying the needs of clients puts integrity into the rhetoric.

Is it possible? Will it work? It doesn’t matter now, whether or not a ballot initiative to fund sex work would win: a public conversation about the possibility of supporting sexual fulfillment is about sexual freedom for the mainstream, aimed at serving needs regardless of the ability to pay, just as we do with medical care and education.

By leveling the playing field, the CUSS proposes to create a conversation for new measures of value in gender differences. It places the economic value of a vagina in consideration of the owners’ point of view. Supporting sex work can do more to stop illegal trafficking and victimizing and discriminatory laws. The process of accomplishing this will transform views of sex and of women. A proposal to subsidize sex work speaks to the rights and needs of adults with clits. Equal pay for equal work is just so much talk. The economic value of vaginas is far superior.

*Comments or questions:  michael@michaelwinn.org

…………………………………………………………

(I am an artist. The minute I take money to compose for some purpose, I’m a commercial artist. Though I bring my talent, passion, knowledge, heart and soul to a project I’m hired to produce, the product is compromised by priorities for which I’m paid and though there is quality in my commercial music, it isn’t a good piece for concert because there is no compromise in music composed for listeners. And this is the only question I will ever ask of the whore I adore.)

Controversial Dangerous Idea

Small children excepted, we are always afraid of the idiot, the person who blows our cover, revealing the hypocrisy or our own narcissism or the slights of hand in our enterprises. Ironically, the best or worst idiots are narcissists. Like Dostoyevsky. Call me an idiot.

Men in monogamous relationships should know it’s their right to have whatever extra-marital intercourse they run into and they’re at fault if they regularly fail to do so. There are no excuses. Everyone is personally responsible for their sexuality. There, I said it. Heresy.

If you set aside the issue of integrity, not even the most jealously self-righteous of unfaithful wives can complain about her husband’s peripatetic sexuality, since the image of a husband who is desirable to other women reflects well on a woman. The same thing is said about men whose wives sleep around. The cuckold is lucky. Meanwhile, the appearance of sexual incapacity, even though a husband honors his vows, if he fails to take advantage of an opportunity for consensual, safe sex, reflects poorly on the spouse,  slut or saint.

This is the reality of sex in  relationships after shedding all the rhetoric. Don’t worry if you aren’t or haven’t been tempted. This information is only useful when you are or after you have been. The only problem with it is psychological and then only from cognitive dissonance and you can easily resolve it by changing your agreements with your spouse or drinking when she decides to disclose her own perambulations and voilá, open communications.

Giving rise to polyamory. If you’ve got nothing more pressing to occupy your time. Poly agreements are not necessarily the same as matrimonial commitments. They can be. It’s relevant since children are nurtured by bonded relationships and benefit when those relationships are with their real parents. Foster and adoption is still all good. It’s just different for the children. How this plays out depends on the commitment of the foster or adoptive parent but there is an important aspect to the genetic ties.

I haven’t heard anything cogent about this in the rhetoric of the poly community. I’ve seen more shifting of partners than I anticipated, possibly a consequence of favoring emotional detachment, and talk is always about juicer content. Promoting polyamory legitimatizes common practice but it also promotes all sex-related enterprise.

Everyone needs to make a living. But belief in monogamy is a lot like Santa Claus. Kids are paid with gifts to accept a patently absurd idea. It costs husbands who cheat, if they aren’t careful, it costs half of everything they own and more. But unlike with Santa Claus, there are many who don’t and can’t conceive of being unfaithful. On principle. And they’re so sexually frustrated that they’ve made porno a multi billion dollar industry. And it’s sad that it’s about their sexuality and not a rolly polly man in a red suit stuck in the chimney. Oh well, it’s not our problem.

More sex positive talk can’t be harmful but I don’t know what to do about Islam or Bandon, Oregon. There’s a conflict.

V-Day Carnival Brazil!

Celebrating V-Day 2015

It’s 2:53 a.m. It’s a hot night and a coyote outside is having an orgasm. Body parts I didn’t know I had are hurting. I went in over my head again.

A sex councilor named Kat showed me a few pelvic exercises and I went to an Ecstatic Dance Friday night to try it with music. I found a Capoeira Samba there instead. A female body in a red feather bikini, followed by five others convinced me to stay. A woman in the band sold me a $25 ticket for the annual San Diego Brazil Carnival the following evening, V – Day.

After coffee the next morning, I called the club. A guy with a Portuguese accent told me to let people at the door know if I want to be in the samba contest for a free trip to Rio. It was like Jesus spoke to me.

The Carnival Of Love
The Carnival Of Love

I drove down the hill to the costume store where a woman that looks like my aunt, the one with a dirty secret, hands me an indigo sequin shirt. I find a headdress with a silver and gold sequine cap, beads hanging down. Black and white feathers form a big circle above my head like the sun.

Before Carnival Sans Skirt
Before Carnival Sans Skirt

Only feathered thing I could find for below the waist was a short black skirt trimmed with a purple boa. A wide leather sash went around my waist, with gold chains hanging in front that swing in and out with my hips. Black Bally jazz shoes, and purple faux pearl beads on my ankles. I’m ready to samba.

Purple Boa

Other contestants are twelve mostly luscious females in elegant feathers, glitter makeup. Waiting in the wings, my limbic system was over-stimulated. In the context these ladies created, my strange outfit seems strangely reasonable. The women are stars of samba schools. The event manager gives me a chance to gracefully back out; says I didn’t pre-register for the contest. After the experience at Poly Palooza, I wasn’t about to be stopped by technicalities. I’m doing this. I dance or I get $75 for the costume rental.

She put me at the end of the bill so I can watch each dancer perform, see how they work with the bateria (or not) and the audience. They had an asset I lacked, their bodies. I needed a plan. For two seconds after my name was called, I wonder what the f—k I’m doing. The insistent rhythm of tamborims, caixa and surdos clarifies it.

Finding myself climbing the stairs to the stage, let ’em wait for it; picking up the rhythm, slowly moving across the stage facing the bateria, with my back to the audience, rotating my hips in the tight spiral Kat showed me, left, then right, making eye contact with each percussionist, brief eyeball to eyeball conversations with each one, there’s an accelerating crescendo as they synch up and my spiral gets wider, exaggerated. A break then a down beat and I’m thinking what the hell,  jump turn and face the audience as if we’d rehearsed. It worked.

Glad I didn't notice judges.
Glad I didn’t notice judges.

Audience got it and we had f–ing crazy fun. At times, I admit, I wondered if I was going to die up there. I had open heart surgery in ’97. What a way to go! Decided to keep my heart rate down by settling into a crescent hip to hip movement, low energy. The the caixas come out again, take control. I’m off the floor, flying. The crowd goes wild. The girls come onstage and we rocked for a few minutes, when I noticed Acacia, a dancer from Oakland.

Acacia Hurrican Samba
Photo courtesy of Acacia Hurricane Samba

 

After the intro, we’re off stage. Several women in the audience ask me for pictures and autographs. Everyone is dancing, samba schools performing, Capoeira guys flying around like hippy gymasts and now contestants are called back onstage. I’m expecting an award speech. Instead, one by one dancers drift offstage leaving me and Acacia.

Photo courtesy of Acacia Hurricane Samba

We danced together maybe 10 minutes, audience screaming, copping moves like Gene and Ginger. Acacia’s compact, fiery, energetic, “I got that, what you doin’ with this?” She dances to tamborims, while I ride the shakera then switch or pair up, accelerating tempo while giving dirty dancing a new name. I’m back to the crescent, slow the heart down, breathe, bateria gives me some space. Acacia takes my attention again. I pick up and we hit it together on the beat.

Afterwards some contestants congratulate me. More photo ops. A dance hall hero in V heaven on V-day! Thank you, Jesus!

I’m going to Samba school.

Super Sonic Samba School
Super Sonic Samba School

My Name is Odysseus

“My name is Odysseus; it is my birthday today and I have much to be thankful for.”For a long time, I felt I couldn’t add anything to what has already been said in books, poetry, fine art and cinema by predecessors. Not knowing my listeners’ lives and experience, how was I to relevantly inform them? I spoke accurately and openly of my own experience in my work, hoping, I would at least allow others to see how I view similar experiences of happiness, pain, joy, grief, hatred, love and God. I made commercial films and films used in schools across the land, made paintings, sculptures and some documentary films, which few people have seen but those who have seen them have been important to me.”My reticence to speak of things about which I had no direct knowledge, to people, whom, in their own ways might have more knowledge than I led me to go into other fields, for a while, building homes for poor families that respect their pride and developing infrastructure and technology that respects the environment. I authored a book explaining computer and telecommunication technologies and how this will change our communities. And in my personal life, I struggled to understand the emotional underpinnings of the way I and other human beings intimately relate. Then a perfect storm of personal catastrophes occurred all within a short period.

“First, my aortic valve gave out; it was an earlier model designed for shorter spans of life than we enjoy now. During the corrective surgery, I awakened for a minute, while my chest was being sawed. While recovering from the surgery, my fiancé left me. I’d lost interest in nonprofit work and my attempt at private development ended in losing my home and I left town in an old Ford truck with Sammy, a cat I inherited from my mother and my good dog, a pomeranian called, Bear.

“For four years, I traveled from town to town, anticipating I would find a community, where my creativity could be a contribution, where I would feel included with the love, respect and brotherhood essential to life. I lived on a modest pension from my nonprofit development work and occasional gifts of strangers of a place to park my truck and social welfare program I’d learned about in my previous work. One summer, when I was managing an undeveloped public campground in a redwood forest in Mendocino County, in exchange for a campsite, Sammy died from Lyme’s disease. A veterinarian told me it was a deer tick. A week later, Bear succumbed as well. My despair was infinite.

“My response was apathy, however, and that opened a door to my return, which is a story for another time, about Telemachus and my wife and how my unexpected return interrupted their revelry. Such stories are interesting and instructive but this is my birthday and this story is about what I’m thankful for, which is something I can contribute to those of you who aspire to write stories for plays and cinema: what I’ve learned from life that is relevant to all fiction and screenplay writing, which can empower you in manifesting your aspiration.

“When I started making radio plays in college and later, as a professional, films for children, commercials and documentaries, I was lost in the excitement of discovering how it works. It felt the same as, when opening the door of a kiln, I saw how fire transformed my handwork. As I learned more, this excitement dissipated and I grew more critical about content. The question, “Why this film?” grew more relevant as my capacity improved. I could see no reason why my work shouldn’t be compared to that of any writer or filmmaker whose work I admire. This led me to read, and to read again, the literary fiction of the last few thousand years and to read what others had said about them; to visit great museums of Europe and view fine arts; see hundreds of plays and cinema and listen to music of enduring value, all with the purpose of learning what about them has made them endure. This odyssey is what I call, my life.

“If I could sum up an idea that will empower your odyssey, it might be the name, de Maupassant. Why this writer in the galaxy of talent in all civilization? Not for his style, which is beautiful, nor originality of metaphor, which is lively, nor his technical skill, on a par with any great writer whose work has endured, but something more relevant to a particular issue. You are aware of congressional debates about media promulgating warfare and desensitizing the population to gore and morbidity. When you are considering a war story or gore, sexuality and morbidity in your work, you might first read Guy de Maupassant’s story, Epiphany. Another example, where de Maupassant is brief and poignant about sexual fidelity and sexual politics, which are go-to themes of mainstream as well as independent TV, stage plays and cinema, you might read de Maupassant’s A Wife’s Confession when you approach the subject.

“I point to de Maupassant about “Why this film?” rather than many other good writers, whose work I respect love and respect as well because of his economy. The poetry of his language, characters and stories isn’t lovelier than I see in works by Cervantes, Homer, Gilbert & Sullivan, Madeline Kahn, Dahl, Mann, Dostoevsky, Dinesen, De Sica, Chekhov, Williams, Faulkner, Hesse, Shakespeare, McCullers, Marquez and so on and so on. You may worship other stars and that is good, but the pleasure you take or that you’ve learned something from them is beside the point I’m making. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Wisdom is another matter.

“I’m grateful for the work of all these predecessors and honored to stand with you among them.”

Stereotyping of Aging In Media

When I was a child, people of color were commonly characterized in stereotypes that are no longer tolerated. The growing intolerance for racial and ethnic slurs in the media wasn’t the result of altruism on the part of the economically dominant white Christian population but quite the opposite, it was the result of the efforts of organized movement with leaders like Martin Luther King Jr. and others, who opposed the basically selfish and/or ignorant prejudicial attitudes of white majorities who control the media.

In the 1960s, when I began producing media for schools and television, in pursuit of some ethnically egalitarian standard, ethnic diversity was a requirement in casting and black, brown and Asian minorities had to be proportionately represented in school films but not native American. In commercials, however, this kind of balance was unnecessary since the media targeted a narrow demographic—the Lego commercial to be shown in African nations used black talent, except for South Africa, for which, black talent was excluded, and so on.

When we’re really engrossed in viewing a good movie, unless the story is in part about issues, such as, Raisin In The Sun, The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter, etc., children and naive people generally will not notice that their expectations are being shaped about people of color and all other stereotypical categorizations. Stage plays of the 19th and early 20th century regularly and fairly consistently characterize women as weaker and scatter-brained, poor people as ignorant and stupid, actors as lascivious and immoral, clergy as moral and upright, older people as infirm and incompetent, sex workers as depraved; on and on. It is significant that this stereotyping is less true of the literary and fine art works that endure through centuries.

Although demands for social justice in the civil society and demographic targeting by commercial advertisers began to force more balance in ethnic and gender representation in media, the opposite of this has occurred with regard to age stereotyping as a consequence of similar forces; e.g., since younger people are considered more susceptible to media advertising, over the last few decades, pejorative characterizations of older people and aging generally has increased. It is taken for granted that it’s fine to represent aging with symptoms of Alzheimers, dementia, infirmity..

The effect on black children of showing them racial stereotypes was that they grew up learning to view the possibilities of their lives differently than did white children. Now, examine how we grow up learning to view the possibilities of our lives after we reach the age of 60 and you will begin to understand something of great importance to you personally.

Had someone asked me to consider this thirty or forty years ago and if I’d had the sense to listen, I’d have done a few things differently because my expectations of my future would have been better informed. Here’s a few facts about your future that could be improved if the characterizations of aging in media you consume is corrected in the same way we addressed racial and ethnic slurs:

  • Unless you have a life-shortening condition of some kind, if you take reasonably good care of your body and your mind, you will be physically and mentally fit for about 100 years.
  • You are likely to be unemployed and “unemployable” for the last thirty or forty years of your life having nothing to do with your ability but rather a consequence of competition from younger but less able people.
  • You will find that people half your age have replaced you at work and they will regard your wisdom and experience as useless and irrelevant or simply, quaint.
  • Statistically, you may have some health issues, including some that impair your mobility, sight or hearing however, most of that will be the result of your health practices when you are young and risks due to genetic inclinations that could be managed early on.
  • All but a few of you will have greater mental capacity, ability to focus and your ability to understand and assess situations will be greater as you age.
  • Your children and grand children will treat you as if they think you are a doddering fool since that is how older people are characterized in the media and games they play.
  • You will experience prejudicial discrimination that is sanctioned in your community.
  • Provided that your hormonal balances are maintained, you will have a healthy sexual appetite but most people that you’re attracted to won’t be attracted to you and when you express that kind of interest, most of those who are younger will be embarrassed about it and some will be unconsciously rude to you.
  • You will suffer from depression as a consequence of all these things and statistically, your chances of suffering clinical depression are one in four if you are white, one in two if black. You will acquire other health symptoms as a bi-product of depression
  • You are likely to be expected to live outside the community of your family and go off to die in an assisted living facility rather than being a burden to your children and grand children. Depending on your resources, this will deepen your depression.

On Exposition, Harmony & Schoenberg

While working on my play this morning, I’m overhearing the rhythm in the voice of a neighbor, independent of the meaning of his words as he describes (as if communicating valuable information to a genie inside the red cell phone he holds against his ear as he parades back and forth across the driveway outside my window). I recognize him by this voice I often hear in late morning after the noise of commuters dissipates, leaving our suburban street in restful peace, interrupted only by the efforts of the odd landscaper or two, home repairers, song birds and a migrating flock of parrots that troops regularly between Balboa Park and Del Mar.  My neighbor’s stories are steeped in syntax of an era that I feel hasn’t had the luxury of retrospect to define itself, a work in progress, like my play.

Unfortunately, this morning his tale reminds me that the fate of people I love is forecast by current events (notwithstanding that an obsession with knowing how things began could obscure an interest in how they may end). If by understanding how events today are consequences of previous events, I might be able to alter the course of history for the next step of time, this knowledge could be important, albeit action is essential and for me this is in the domain of defining in media the era for itself and in that respect, at least, I am self-defined as an artist, regardless of the medium I employ.

An artist isn’t defined by the medium. I found the following paragraphs in Arnold Schoenberg’s book, Structural Functions of Harmony: 

“The composers of the Romantic period believed that music should “express” something. As so often in preceding periods, extra musical tendencies, such as poetic and dramatic subjects, emotions, actions and even philosophical problems of Weltanschauung (philosophy of life) had become influential. These tendencies caused changes in every feature of the musical substance. Alterations in the constitutions of chords decisively changed the intervals of the melodies and also resulted in richer modulations; the rhythms and dynamics of the accompaniment, and even of the melody, symbolized their extramusical objects instead of deriving from purely musical stimuli. The origin of these new features may be debatable aesthetically, if not psychologically; however, whatever the source of the musical inspiration may have been, it resulted in great developments.”

(He’s looking at the forms of musical innovation as a logical expression of philosophic intention.)

“In descriptive music, the background, the action, the mood, and the other features of the drama, poem or story become incorporated as constituent and formative factors in the musical structure. The union thereafter is inseparable. Neither the text nor the music conveys its full significance if detached from its companion. Their union is an amalgamation comparable to an alloy whose components can be separated only by complicated processes.”

(He means, you may tease out the way parts interact for analysis but the piece is more than the sum of the parts and there are features that make no sense at all out of context, yet they are the essential content in the communication. (A nose evokes a face.)

“Drama and poetry are greatly inspiring to a composer. But much of what they evoke on the one hand, they revoke on the other. A melody, if it followed the dictates of its musical structure alone, might develop in a direction different from that in which a text forces it. It might become shorter or longer, produce its climax earlier or later—or dispense with it entirely—require less striking contrasts, much less emphasis or much less accentuation. Besides, the text is frequently so overwhelming in itself as to conceal the absence of value in a melody.”

(The composer cleaves to the direction of the story in much the same way as lovers respond to each other.)

“These extramusical influences produced the concept of extended tonality. Remote transformations and successions of harmonies were understood as remaining within the tonality. Such progressions might not bring about modulations or the establishment of [tonal] regions. They function chiefly as enrichments of the harmony and, accordingly, often appear in a very small space, even in a single measure. Though, referring them to [tonal] regions may sometimes facilitate analysis, their functional effect is, in many cases, only passing, and temporary.”

(“Tonality” in this sense is analogous to the listener’s musical expectation. Extended tonality is a relationship with this expectation; extending it depends on it by using it in a way that doesn’t limit it.  “Region” is a term of art in Schoenberg’s lexicon; it refers to the dominion of a central tone around which all other tones relate according to their harmonic interaction with the central tone.)

Schoenberg continues this discussion by providing illustrations of his proposition from Wagner’s Tristan, Brahms’ C-Minor String Quartet and Bach’s Chromatic Fantasy (D Minor). Three years ago, I wouldn’t have understood what Schoenberg wrote, nor why his classes at UCLA, like those of Lubitsch were crowded with visitors. He’s explained in this way the evolution of music in our culture over the last two centuries and it applies not only to the realm of Beethoven, Schubert, Stravinsky, Cage and Ives but also, oddly enough, Kanye West, Madonna and Metallica and more understandably, Miles, Monk, Mingus and less relevantly, Springsteen, Cash and Burl Ives.

In describing this relationship between musical expression and the uses to which music is put, a subtext of Schoenberg’s discussion relates to the genetic memory of all survivors of the holocaust and their descendants (a circumstance I share with Schoenberg). We are sensitive to bigotry, we know intuitively that the holocaust was the symptom of an economic problem. We know the governmental changes adopted here in my country to protect the rights of individuals in the 1930s were economic strategies and we know that expansions of the voting franchise and civil liberties are meaningless if these economic measures are subverted or abandoned and that the expansion of populations globally compound this problem and we know that bigotry and xenophobia motivate and channel economic inequity through mob behavior and this is why it is scary to me that yesterday, the Director of the World Bank publicly acknowledge the obvious: that global warming leads to battles over food. That frankly states the stark reality behind changing the name of the defense department to “homeland security”.

Schoenberg was writing about autonomous music, not commercial music, however, commercial music in media, like that of John Williams, for instance uses forms, phrases and musical expressions “borrowed” from descriptive music of earlier autonomous music. Autonomous means literally that it is not intended to sell cars or induce hypnotic suggestions in dark theaters. That it can be used for this purpose is amply illustrated by Lily Reifenstahl’s use of Richard Wagner’s music in Triumph of The Will and that it is used for this purpose is easily gleaned from a text book on conventional harmony.

Schoenberg, who I feel is the most highly respected genius of music of all those who emigrated to my country to escape Nazism in central Europe, refused all invitations to write music for movies and there is no doubt in my mind that this was a composer with the talent to move the mountain to Mohammed, musically, equivalent in some ways to Debussy, although he might blush at this comparison. That he refused to do movie music is important and relevant.

What is the responsibility of the media that shapes the core values of our civilization, if not to re-invigorate the population with a will to demand that democratic government take responsibility for protecting the needs of those with least power? Was this not what Reifenstahl imagined was her purpose in creating the dramatic myth of the 3rd Reich? She was effective, too; the problem was that she promoted values that were exploited by men and institutions like Goebbels and Henry Ford and J.P. Morgan. And why should Schoenberg trust the government of my country? Had we not allowed Henry Ford to operate factories that built tanks for Hitler? Had we not put our Japanese citizens into concentration camps? Had we not dropped atom bombs on Hiroshima? Should he trust democracy with a gullible electorate of cupidic people vulnerable to propaganda? Under the circumstances, it would have been foolish and after witnessing the assassination of John Kennedy and the war in Viet Nam myself, I feel Schoenberg should be respected as much for his political foresight as for his comprehension of music.

And now? Otherwise respectable people speak about democracy as if its a choice over other forms of government. It’s not. Human beings are by definition responsible for their own fates and the only kind of government that recognizes the possibility of this is one in which the individual’s voice is relevant. Extrapolating from this, regardless of the size of the global population, a governmental structure in which each individual has a relevant voice is one in which the governing institution is democratic, local and relatively small. Large central governments of great power are enabled by information technology but this doesn’t make them effective in terms of economic equity and in fact, they are not only more prone to abuse but also, size means abuses are on a horrendous scale. A large centrally governed democracy is an oxymoron.

But there’s another issue because large populations are dependent on media and the virtual relationships that media empowers and when media is owned and operated by commercial enterprise, those relationships are shaped by priorities of the commercial sponsor.

It’s obvious that, for media to be true to its purpose of invigorating political will for governmental responsibility, the core values promulgated in media can’t be those defined by the needs of advertisers nor by public sector agencies, especially of national governments with no real connection with people and especially not governments that are themselves owned by commercial interests and industries that have priorities in conflict with the will for both individual welfare and governmental responsibility. Moreover, the values promulgated in responsible media must be somehow coherent with local accountability. And this is notwithstanding that, as Schoenberg points out, the content and the delivery must be aesthetically consistent, interesting and appealing to the audience.

If this is what we will require of media going forward, that is, if promulgating core values that help ensure human life is to survive on this planet and my grandchildren are to have grandchildren, then my role as a student and a teacher includes this concern.

It appears that the future of life on this planet would improve, could we remove commercial media, were such a thing possible. We must acknowledge this, if it is true. Because thought precedes invention,  we must think it. Prescience is simply weighing possibilities given what is known and what is suspected. For instance, we know that commercial media has effectively harnessed the power of mob psychology to promote the consumption of goods and activities that results in the world as we have it. There’s no way to change this focus of media that is consistent with commercial priorities, however, as battles for food occur everyday in communities in my country, it’s easy to see that the symptoms of economic deprivation are exasperated by media that is focused on conditioning viewers to equate their self esteem with ownership of consumable status symbols and coincidentally, also fosters dissatisfaction with life in many and hostility toward those who appear to be doing better and have reason to fear those who are less fortunate.

Because the task of responsible media requires the consideration of who is adversely affected, there is the question: whom among my country’s population are economically deprived? Who are the individuals that are defeated in their attempt to be responsible for their lives and those of their loved ones and/or who are resigned to the idea that they can’t be so responsible because they can’t afford to? It’s a growing number that includes members of a previous working class that are now unemployed due to labor market globalization, age disqualification and the extinction of industries that depended on finite natural resources, such as, fish, coal, steel, and lumber and the mechanization of agricultural and other processes. Increasingly enlarging this group are the aging population, who are now out of synch with archaic policies of employment and “retirement” and whose circumstances are often further debilitated by the encouragement of mobility that weakens the anchoring of relationships in communities and all of this together creates a permanent and growing marginalized under-class of unemployed and largely unemployable people over 50 that are costly to support. They are most of us. They are the audience.

You can thus understand why I can watch an interview with David Simon, who knows all this and quite frankly confesses, “hey, look, I’m ok, I sold a show to HBO, my checks come in the mail regularly” with some amusement, as well the conversations of other beneficiaries of a successful career performing and producing media that of course, haven’t crossed the line in any meaningful way and I struggle to deter myself from thinking, “so f—g what?” I was shocked when I first heard Groucho Marx sing, Show Me A Rose, now I sing it myself now as my neighbor has retired to his stucco semi-fortress and I can work again.

 

Space Travel Premise

“These objects are important for science … they’re potential resources for raw materials in space that we may wish to take advantage of some day,” The New York Times reported last month on proposed fuel stations in space “that one study says could put astronauts on an asteroid by 2024“.

PREMISE

Space exploration is a holy grail and technological byproducts of the crusade lead us into directions that aren’t rocket science. Another byproduct is that an adult generation is aware this planet has been subject to periodic annihilations due to collisions with large objects. A troublesome enough thing to worry about. However,

The space program product is artificial life support outside the global ecosystem (mobile so far–like space caravans). A commercial byproduct is technology, re-education, engineered food stuff and stuff that makes communities in extreme climatic conditions appear habitable, which motivates investment capital to accommodate growing populations in marginal and vulnerable areas.

If human civilization hasn’t become extinct within 2000 years, either people on this  planet will be looking at shiny remnants orbiting the earth and sun and wonder how life on the planet survived human organization possessed by such an obsession or people elsewhere in the universe will navigate around such things on pilgrimages here.

Yes, I would volunteer with the right woman, to take a fifty year trip alone with her to Mars, which is off this planet, or Venus.

Sam, Joe and Evelyn's Mother, Dora Meyerowitz
Sam, Joe and Evelyn’s Mother, Dora Meyerowitz
(my paternal grandmother)

Enter Here, If You Please (Namaste)

Welcome. If you have met or heard of Michael Winn or of Michael Myrow or their progeny, Winn Myrow, and have professional interest, be advised that you may find this website disturbingly disordered, similar in this way to an ordinary human’s mind, and you have only to look at your own mind to see the truth of this.

For the vast majority of us humans, the only mind we know directly is our own. (Exceptions to this, please, get in touch with me.)

Euripides, Homer, Cervantes, Sterne, Stendahl, Dostoevsky, McCullers, West, Faulkner, Flaubert, Marquez, Mann (dropping names like a trail of diamonds to illustrate a point), danced with the notion of  seeing and feeling through the imagined minds of others. In doing this, they drew a distinction called, human life. If we human beings are conscious of ourselves we would each be but a closed loop. Literature is where we have archived these other views.

This website is a personal workshop, like a sculpture studio where words are the only tools and imagination the only material. A story is analogous to a sculpture. The novelist carves his sculpture from the entropy of imagination. Reading The Gambler, for instance, Dostoevsky evokes experience of protagonists in their world.

As you read some of the stories on this website, especially those in daily evolution, you may see what compels anyone to write. Why they prefer to not sit quietly and serenely smile at things, drink green tea and recycle. (The truth is I’ve tried that. A sexy woman can talk me into doing practically anything. It’s miraculous I’m here to tell about it.) It is because I’m grateful to God for women and survival, that not only do I feel compelled to write, but also, I am sworn to tell the truth, regardless of how it may make me look.

As succinctly described by C.S. Lewis in Screwtape Letters, my principle as a writer, in other words, why I write is to act in the present consistent with principles that Christians attribute to the words of Christ. (If you are not a Christian, you will find similar principles in Judaism, Islam, Shamanism, Buddhism and so on.) I write to experience our connection. Yours and mine. You may be a captain of the police department, the madame of a brothel, a parish priest, undertaker, gangster, precocious teenager, whatever, but in that we are in each other’s worlds, I include you. Namaste.

 

 

 

Exercise – Some Poems

 

I played chicken with a Coast Guard Cutter and then raced a 36-foot racing sloop close to the wind on a starboard tack, flying an ample genoa on its head, we raced a half mile in a stiff breeze against the ebb to a photo finish at the police dock after which, the channel turns north allowing the sailboat a broad reach. But I caught her, full sail, close to the wind, fair and square.

While racing this sailboat, a profile of my life (so far) occurred to me, unexpurgated: that emotionally, I’m an abandonment/alienation mechanism and sometimes bitter about it. I would not have survived without that characteristic but in that paradigm, in the area of love, family and friendship, I am anxiously as loyal as a puppy and connection projects loss, sensitizing issues of trust, sabotaging relationship. Having surprised the helmsman at the police dock, it appears I have won, no longer am I opposed to surrender.

 

Subset Journal A – The Blues

I had a thought that I should ask you

If you agreed that Facebook is a cyber life,

Unreality realified.

Let’s say I wanted some unknown

no doubt, unknowable

other being out there to get me and my world,

I’d not be running a serial motion picture on Facebook.

But if l did, it must include Bob, Dale,

Large objects

and my idiot son-in-law as well as the

Transgender woman/man I made out with

At Ichiban in PB last month.

She is a bitch.

 

But it feels like giving my time, self, soul, heart

for the apathetic use or absorption

by cyber friends, who though lovely,

are no substitute for a good blow job

I might not feel as acknowledged

Blow jobs are affordable

There’s always Nicaragua.

Would I do it though?

Have I considered everything? No.

 

When I connect, will they be human beings?

In the meantime, I often feel as I do feel now,

like an orphan child of a planet

in a different universe,

left here by mistake.

 

The aforementioned son, in-law?

What happened to due process?

Asked me recently, Are you suffering?

In that moment, I was a little buzzed

And it threw me that he should ask.

Out of the blue like that

 

I have suffered, that much I know

I’ve been here for a long long time

So much of my life happened here

Whoever left me is never coming back

I’m not content with that.

I’m on my own but I abandon no one.

That isn’t suffering.

Suffering is being present to what is past

What is lost, grieving, giving your soul to God.

Have a heart.

Jeopardy Answer: What is a happy ending?