Hey Sailor!

On the eve of Pride Celebration it seems appropriate to mention this story that appeared on channel 5 in San Francisco about a week ago. The story featured the report that the Pentagon had sought $7 million in funding for what people are calling a "Gay Bomb" intended to make military enemies (I suppose, theoretically same-sex military enemies) all hot, horny, and attracted to each other.

I suppose that the Pentagon researchers thought that maybe folks in other armies would drop their weapons and uniforms and start cavorting around the battlefield like so many marchers in tomorrow's parade. A proposal that, to my mind, seems like a pretty damn good idea! I mean... seriously... this is really breaking new ground and it adds a whole new dimension to that old saying from all the way back during VietNam, "make love not war."

Frankly... I see potential for it in all kinds of other fields as well. How about dropping one of these bombs on the Vatican for example? Or the White House? Or the broadcasting facilities of Pat Robertson's Christian Broadcasting Network... adds a whole new dimension to watching the 700 Club, I'll give you that! It seems to me that, as the only true "Peace Candidate" for President, Dennis Kucinich should latch onto this idea as something he could implement in his first 100 days as Commander in Chief. It would show a lot more creative decision making than the current Decider in Chief has shown in his entire 6 years.

Unfortunately, the other part of the story was the protests lodged by representatives of the LGBT community who found the idea offensive, complaining that the proposal is homophobic and reprehensible and that the military is missing the point that homosexual people can be just as blood thirsty and war-mongering as the next person. Not only are these folks demonstrating that militarism can cross all barriers of class and culture, they are also proving that Queer Folks are just as liable as anybody else to suffer from an EXTREME LACK OF HUMOR!

I propose that we latch onto this weapon and test it right now! This could be a hallmark in the progress of human social interaction.

Besides... The military wouldn't even need a new recruitment campaign...
Everybody just stand up and sing along!

We want you... We want you...
WE WANT YOU AS A NEW RECRUIT!

For my next trick I'll need a volunteer...

Wednesday night I went to Copperfields Books in Petaluma to hear Crystal Zevon read from her new book about Warren, "I'll Sleep When I'm Dead."

It was an emotional experience. There were not very many people there, but most of us had clearly held an inordinate attachment to the man most people know for writing Werewolves of London, but who wrote oh so much more and who, in fact, was oh so much more. Crystal was not only his wife for many years (you'll see them in this fun home movie video from Amazon)but they were also very old and dear friends in the many years after they divorced. He often sang about her and had many times asked her to take him back. These are emotions that I have experienced myself over and over during the last two years, and I find comfort in these songs that remind me that I am not alone in the feeling. On Wednesday, Crystal even commented that they had talked about getting back together several times over the years, but they finally came to the conclusion that they were better as friends. Evidently, they were very good friends. You could feel it in the way she spoke of him, the way she looked off above the crowd at points when she finished reading. Warren was the one who asked her to write the book, and at times during the reading it was easy to get the feeling that if you turned around Warren would be standing in the back row grinning and taking it all in. My favorite quote of the night was that Warren "... had this way of empowering you to do what you had no business doing."

If you spend some time with the later songs from Zevon you come to understand a little bit about how an artist of such catastrophic craziness at one point in his life can become deep, and profound, and lovely at another point (or perhaps both sides were there always, and it takes other developments for the rest of us to see them). Such people are really what artistry is about, because it is in the living of their lives, their faithfulness to their gift and their work, and their giving to the rest of us from that living that we learn more about being who we are.

Crystal's stories were entertaining, engaging and encouraging and she closed the reading by, as she put it, "giving Warren the last word." It was a wonderful and surprising evening, one that once again reminded me of the depth to be found in Warren. Such evenings are why we have books and records and films... It's the way we keep the memories, the lessons and the love in our hearts after the people who gave them to us are no longer existentially present in our lives.

On The Willows...

I spent much of Saturday afternoon in the little northern California town of Cotati where they were honoring New Orleans with a “Jazz Fest” of their own. Like the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival this little event on the square in downtown Cotati was more eclectic than just a jazz festival, but unlike the one in New Orleans the eclecticism was served at the expense of the jazz. The afternoon started with a poorly put together wanna be Traditional Jazz band that played with heart and good intentions, but that’s about it. They ended their set with a “second line” down the middle of the street in downtown Cotati, something that has probably never happened in Cotati before, and frankly you could tell. Between the band’s weak performance and the plodding “marching” (no dancing, no craziness, little joy) it was just sad, and it reminded me of the line in Apocalypse Now when they have a barbecue on the beach in VietNam. "The more they tried to make it just like home, the more they made everybody miss it.”

The second line was followed, throughout the afternoon with groups of increasing ability and diminishing interest in anything that can be remotely termed jazz. There were other players, and somewhat better bands, playing in many of the little bars and restaurants that dot the downtown area, one in particular was a Latino style jazz band called Tumbao. Finding them was one of those delightfully surprising experiences that come along at things like this. I was tired of the half-realized, semi-intentional music on the square and was headed for home when I heard an irrepressible latin beat emanating from Spancky’s Bar and Grill. I popped in just in time to catch them leaving for a break but what I had heard made me order up a margarita and hang out for the second set. It was worth the wait as the performance really did hold its own and made me feel much better. After Tumbao I even ventured around to the other small venues in town, catching a little bit here and a little bit there. The afternoon wound up feeling like a pretty decent Sunday evening on Frenchman’s Street (not quite the quality or abundance of music, but a reasonable facsimile thereof) and I found myself less homesick and more appreciative of the way it's possible (if we try) to make home wherever we are.

Happy Father's Day... Part Three

The story of how I came up with this posting is one of those twisted, and possibly pathological, stories of the internet. It started with me getting up and getting online (something that I've promised myself I wouldn't do on Sunday... oh well) to read email and news. I started, as I almost always do, with the BBC news feed and for one of those internet synchronicity reasons I tracked down a connection to BBC Radio1 and a story about Gnarls Barkley and producer DJ Dangermouse.

Now ... first off, I've never heard of this guy (okay I'm old... I know that!), but damn if this piece didn't make me want to know more about him. So, I did (again) what I always do, and started searching for Dangermouse on the web. Well I should have known this was going to happen, but I really wasn't expecting to get linked to all of the fan sites for Danger Mouse, the Greatest Secret Agent in the World. After that... I was toast... You see, when we first moved to Sonoma, when she was 7 (and the years following), my daughter Jennifer and I used to sit, pretty much every afternoon after school, and watch Danger Mouse on television. It was one of those ridiculous guilty pleasures, along with Inspector Gadget (if you really have more time on your hands than anyone should have - or if you are my sister - you really ought to check out this little web extra just for the fun of it), and later The Angry Angry Beavers, which might just be the best television show ever made, that I had the good fortune to be able to indulge in because I worked at home, picked my kid up from school most days, and had the chance to just spend fun time... time I will always be glad of and that I will never get back... with her. As strange and stupid as it seems (and might indeed be), watching Danger Mouse on TV with Jennifer (and on some days with Caleb and Lia as well) is truly one of the highlights of my life.

There were lots of other days that were almost as much fun (Desa and Jennifer dancing to Janet Jackson is one that sticks out in my mind), but those completely non-productive, and seemingly pointless, experiences when all I was doing was, as John Lennon put it it, watching the wheels have turned out to be the gold of my life. That's my Father's Day story. Danger Mouse on the big funky couch with bad snacks and lots of laughter. It's really true that "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans."

I've got to go now... I'm supposed to go to church and brunch with my daughter.