Announcement

I debated whether to post this announcement, or just to drop off the face clandestinely.  I chose the former, because when others have chosen the latter, it’s always made me want to buzz them and try to find out what’s up, which is not always appreciated.

Life is such that I can’t possibly keep up the blogging commitment earlier propounded.  I’ve got so much else that needs to be done, the blog just seems more of a hassle than anything else.   I really would like to just be free of it.

I’ll still post, and I’ll try to stick to the days I announced earlier — piano stuff on Fridays, and so forth.  But it’s not going to be regular, and I’m not going to bind myself to have to come up with something six days a week.  There just aren’t enough hours in the day.

Anyway, just thought I should say something.  Life is good, I just finished the first Act of my vocal score, I’ve started on the second Act, and after that I have the instrumental parts to score.   This is just stuff that needs to be done if one has written a musical and has any hopes of it ever being produced.

I also have articles to write for a number of major newspapers who may or may not publish them.  But I’m being strongly recommended by some people who have written for those papers.  So it seems to be the door that’s being opened right now.

And then of course, there’s life in general.  Church, family, everything else.  Blogging would be great if it were a full time job with a paycheck attached to it.  But it’s basically become a full time job with no monetary recompense whatsoever.  And I have other such jobs that are more rewarding, in other ways.  

So ta ta for now.  I’ll be back when I’m back.  

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Homeless in Mayfield: Part Two

This is more-or-less a sequel to the first post in this series, as our hero begins to discover that Mayfield isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.  Again, please bear in mind that this writing was penned some years ago, when I was still in the frustrating throes of abject homelessness.  As such, it does not reflect my current head-space, so please take my ascerbic tone with a large grain of salt.

Just got swept off my Spot by yet another local city officer, this time a grisly old K-9 cop.  Ironically, this was the first night I had found a decent covering, a thick white quilt. It was at a church where clothing was also deposited. So I got a clean change of clothes, too.

(Of course, curled up in white during the black of night wasn’t the brightest thing a boy could do.  But a cover’s a cover.  Too bad I blew my own.)

Cop seemed uncomfortable. I think he was hoping for a dirt bag. I came across like a decent guy who was down on his luck. Still — he said I had one more night, and then:

Image result for bum control clipart“Move on!”

(Always gets to me when they say that.  As if anywhere else I move to, the same damn thing’s not going to happen again.  And as if it solves anybody’s problem just to keep us sleep-deprived and on our toes all the time.   Oh well — the Leave it to Beaver Fantasy was fun while it lasted.   Guess it’s just yer basic Bum Control here, as everywhere.)

So, any of you 378 so-called “friends” of mine on this here Facebook wanna have me over and argue politics on the real?  I mean — can you bask in the presence of a tortured Artist? Money isn’t coming till the 26th, but until then I’ll freely donate my wit, charm, good looks, talent, charisma, and vision for the hope of humanity in a future age of widespread human liberation.  How ’bout it, peeps?   Anybody down for a crash course in Homeless Enlightenment?

Down to brass tacks: on the 28th I get my SS of $960/mo. and if you want to do this on a trial basis, I’ll pay you $460/month. 1-3 months okay – I want to get my bearings anyway. I don’t smoke,. drink, or use drugs. (Done my fair share.) No pets. Tend to  be absent-minded, but I like my space. Composer. No deadlines to meet. I use software and headphones. No loud music.  I’ll be quiet as a mouse.   Anything else you need to know, just ask.  My only critical requirement is that I will not live in the City of Berkeley.   I repeat: NOT!!

(BTW I will not live in Berkeley because my music is too important for it to be targeted by thugs needing devices to barter for crack cocaine. Four were stolen in a year’s span, two violently, not to mention the punk who poured lighter fluid all over my backpack, an burned down all my possessions before my eyes.  No resentments toward anyone, and I love all of the Kids, but I won’t live forever, and my music notation software is my key to success.)

So let me know. I’m serious. I’ll be spamming my own timeline with every piece I’ve ever written, just waiting for the bowels of somebody’s compassion to come bursting open.  Oh, and by the way, I clean bathrooms too.  The moment your guilt makes you erupt like a volcano, you can count on Andy to sweep the shit off your floor.  

© 2014 by Andy Pope

Also, I’ve so far kept my New Year’s Resolution to post specific things according to a specific theme at specific times on specific days.  In keeping with that concept, I’ll do my best to have a piano piece posted tomorrow.  Don’t expect me to sing, however, as I’m still a bit under the weather.   See ya soon.   

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Gratitude List 1001

1. Despite being once again bent out of shape over family difficulties, I turned in my article for Street Spirit on time last night, and even think I did a good job.  

2. Once again, I had the experience of feeling hassled over personal issues when I was outside trying to work in a coffee shop last night, and then moments later, walking through my front door and immediately being overwhelmed with gratitude and a sense of the love of God.

3. Very much enjoyed playing piano for the two nursing homes yesterday afternoon.  It is a particular blessing to be playing a Wurlitzer spinet at Aspen, identical to the one I grew up with, on which I first learned how to play a piano.

4. Heard from my friend Guy, who is a pianist, a singer, and an Acting teacher.  He gave me a great compliment on Holiday, beginning with the word “Wow” and again affirmed for me that it’s hard to believe that this sound quality came from a smartphone only. 

5. Had a auspicious 10-minute scheduled phone call with my editor that may lead to more work writing articles for other newspapers where she has worked.

6. Though my ingrown or distrophic left toenail snapped open when I tried to put on a pair of socks last night, I’m lucky I had some benzocaine on hand so I could apply the local anesthetic and yank it off myself, thus saving an expensive trip to a doctor whom I probably wouldn’t trust with my toenail anyway.

7. Looking forward to Christmas Eve services at my church tonight.

8. Though I awakened at three in the morning once again troubled over a family member, the Gregorian chant I just put on is helping me realize that I really can get some needed sleep again, and that things will probably look brighter in the morning.

9. Nice to have a place of my own where my sleep is uninterrupted by external insanity and cruelty.

10. If celibacy was good enough for Jesus, St. Paul, and St. Francis, then it is certainly good enough for me.  Very very thankful at this moment to be alone with the God who has blessed my solitude by permitting me to accomplish a plethora of creative, meaningful work that no living situation in the past has fostered.  Thank God for the God of Peace.  

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Tuesday Tuneup 16

Q. Do you know who I am?

A. Sure do.  You’re a creation of mine who always questions everything.   

Q. Why have you summoned me?

A. Because I can.  I have the power to do so — the God-given right, and the authority.

Q. Are you my authority?

A. Yes, I am.

Question AuthorityQ. Are you proud of that position?

A. I am indeed.

Q. But why, specifically, have you summoned me today, sir?

A. For the usual reasons.  I summon you every Tuesday, when I need to do a little introspection.  You might say, a tune-up.  I’ve done it 16 consecutive Tuesdays in a row now.

Q. Are you proud of that accomplishment?

A. As a matter of fact, I am.

Q. Why?

A. Because it represents consistency.  And consistency represents stability.   

Q. Are you usually unstable?

A. Yes.  Or so I’m told, anyway.

Q. Who tells you this?

A. Stable people.

Q. Such as?

A. I decline to name names.  But I’m sure you know the type of person I mean.  The kind who can hold down a 9-5 job, stay in one town for a long time without wanting to vamoose, and so forth.

Q. Are  you unable to hold down a 9-5 job?

A. Not for very long.  

Q. Why not?

A. I’m not sure.  But I do know that the last time I held down a 9-5 was in the year 1990, and I didn’t last through the year.

Q. Why not?

A. Got fired.

Q. Why?

A. Got beat out in the competition.

Q. With whom?

A. With a more stable person, obviously.

Q. Are you sure this is the real reason for your not holding down a 9-5 job?

A. You paint me into a corner, you  do.

Q. How’s that?

A. You force me to seek out a deeper reason.

Q. Such as?

A. Such as maybe I just don’t want to hold down a 9-5.

Q. Why not?

A. Because I have no confidence that I won’t be fired.

Q. Why not?

A. Because every time I start out with confidence, I wind up getting fired anyway.  So I’ve developed a —

Q. Block?

A. Maybe.

Q. Disdain?

A. Closer.

Q. Frustration?

A. Closest yet.

Q. So why do they fire you?

A. Three things.

Q. Namely?

A. Number One, I’m extremely absent-minded.  I space too many things out, and it frustrates my employers and co-workers.

Q. Number Two?

A. I show up late.  I keep looking for things in my apartment that I’ve spaced out, things I need for the job, and can’t find them.

Q. Why don’t you just leave them at work?

A. My glasses?  My keys?  My wallet?  Come on.

Q. What’s the third reason?

A. Can’t handle stress.

Q. What happens when you’re under stress?

A. I implode.  I shut down.  I can’t function.

Q. Is that why you’re on disability?

A. Pretty much.

Q. So how do you spend your time on disability?

A. Doing things I can do.

Q. Such as?

A. Play the piano.  Sing.  Write music.  And write.  Oh – and run long distances.

Q. Why is it that you can do those things, but not the normal 9-5 office type things?

A. I think it has to do with the fact that they can all be done while I’m totally alone, with no other people around.

Q. Does being around people stress you out?

A. Somewhat.   Although I am in a relationship now, and I spend a lot of time with my flame.

Q. How’s that going?

A. Amazingly well.  We seem to compliment each other nicely.

Q. But don’t you get stressed out sometimes being around her?

A. Sometimes.  But we take the time to work through the stressors, and wind up the better for it.

Q. Then why can’t you do the same thing with your office mates on the 9-5?

A. Because they don’t give me the time.  Everything is done according to deadlines, and time pressure.  

Q. You don’t work well to deadlines?

A. Not at all.  I cease to function completely when under time pressure.

Q. But you work well without deadlines?

A. Look at all the stuff I’ve accomplished.  All over this website.  Were any of those things accomplished according to deadlines?

Q. I don’t know – were they?

A. Not at all.  They’re all labors of love.  And no deadline has been involved whatsoever.

Q. What about the Tuesday tuneups?

A. I space a lot of them out, too.  Some are composed over the weekend, or late Monday nights.  Some I don’t even get around to until Thursday.   But I’m trying.

Q. Why are you trying?

A. Because I’d like to show the world some consistency.  Some stability.   So I figured I’d set some mild deadlines for myself, and see if I could keep them.

Q. What other deadlines have you set?

A. I’m supposed to come up with a Scripture every Sunday, a Gratitude List every Monday, this tuneup every Tuesday, a speech every Wednesday, a substantial essay-like blog post every Thursday, and a piano video every Friday.

Q. Who says you’re supposed to?

A. I says.

Q. And if someone else says?

A. No can do.

Q. Problem with authority?

A. Hey!   What are you trying to insinuate?   

Q. Does it . . . seem like I am . . . trying to insinuate something?

A. You heard me!   You’re insinuating that I have a problem with authority, aren’t you?

Q. Am I?

A. Of course you are!

Q. But aren’t I . . . only . . . doing my job, sir?

A. Don’t put words in my mouth!   You actually have the audacity to insinuate that I, your sole Creator and Absolute Authority, have a problem with authority?   What authority?  Who’s my authority? 

Q. Well . . . isn’t your own Creator your authority?   I mean  . . . isn’t God your Creator and your Absolute Authority?

A. GOD??  And who, pray tell, would be God’s Creator?  And His own Absolute Authority?

Q. Why do you challenge me with such intellectual matters, sir?

A. Because it’s your job, damn it!   I summoned you to do your job!

Q. Are you going to fire me, sir?

A. I just might!  And if you don’t want to get fired, young man, I suggest you keep your big mouth SHUT!!

The Questioner is silent.

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Tuesday Tuneup 15

Q. Do you know who I am?

A. Yes.  You are a feelingless generator of questions, whose function it is to churn out question after question, based on a logical follow-up to my responses, with little or no empathy for my emotional state.  Moreover, your first two questions are the same every Tuesday.  Therefore, my first answer is immaterial, since you will only ask me why I have summoned you, and it really does not matter what I’ve said.

Q. Why have you summoned me?

A. Because I can’t read.

Q. You can’t?

A. Not very well.

Q. And how does this affect you?

A. It disturbs me a great deal.  It also causes me to waste huge amounts of time.

dyslexiaQ. Doing what?

A. Trying to read.  Staring at the pages, while my head is flying, off in space, not seeming to be able to alight upon a single word or phrase of meaning.

Q. Why do I find this hard to believe?

A. Probably for the same reason everyone else does.

Q. And what reason is that?

A. The reason that I seem to be educated, and reasonably articulate, and able to write fairly well.

Q. If you cannot read, then where did you pick up all these words you use?

A. Mostly from talking to a lot of smart people, and remembering their words.  You see, I do have an unusually good long-term memory.  I am only unable to focus in the short-term.

Q. Unable?

A. Well, hardly able.  I suppose you have caught me in hyperbole.  It’s not that I can’t read at all.  I can read short articles, and emails on occasion, and unusually engaging works that don’t challenge my dyslexia.

Q. Then why did you say that you can’t read?

A. Because I can’t ever seem to finish an entire book.  I’ve finished only one book in the past several years.

Q. What book is that?

A. The INFJ Writer: Cracking the Genius of the World’s Rarest Type by Lauren Sapala.

Q. What enabled you to finish that particular book, if no other?

A. A matter of threefold interest.  There was not one, nor two, but three things about the book that intrigued me.

Q. Those being?

A. First, the MBTI.  I myself am an INFJ, and I saw myself all over the book.

Q. And second?

A. Writing.  Something I love to do.  The book was about INFJ’s who are Writers.

Q. And third?

A. Recovery.  The account of someone who had been deeply hurt, and who had escaped from that hurt by evoking a typical escape mechanism, and an addictive one at that.  But most importantly, she recovered.

Q. Have you done so?

A. Recovered?  Or escaped?

Q. Both.

A. Recovered?  Partly.  Escaped?  Totally.

Q. When?

A. All too often.   In 1979 after a break-up with a finacee.  In 1982 when I learned I was too sensitive for a highly competitive position in the music world.  In the early 90’s, after a difficult divorce.  And between the years 2013 and 2016, after being deeply hurt by a critique of my unfinished first draft to my musical Eden in Babylon, when I had turned to a friend for encouragement, and not only had received no encouragement, but the painful information that this man was not even a friend.

Q. How did you find out he was not your friend?

A. In the same way that I learned last night that another man was not my friend.

Q. How?

A. It is too painful to answer.  But it might inform you what was on my mind when I tried this morning, unsuccessfully once again, to read.  

The Questioner is silent.  

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Three More Articles Published

I learned a few days ago that three more of my stories have been published in Street Spirit.  This makes ten short pieces I’ve had published in the past six months, in Street Spirit, and in Classism Exposed.   I find this astonishing, especially because I never expected to have anything published at all.  It brings a new sense of purpose, with a connection to fulfillment in life — something I can always look towards pursuing, at times when I might be tempted to ponder that my life is without meaning or reason.  

Street Spirit

February 2018 Issue of Street Spirit

The above link is to the full 12-page issue.   I think it’s an unusually good one, if you want to leaf through it.  Or, if you just want to check out my own work, I’m on pages 8 and 12.  Terry Messman the publisher again gave me the entire p. 12, which is the back page.  He gave me the whole back page for the posting of The Revelation of Humanity, which I’ve gathered from reader response to be one of my better recent pieces. Other pieces published from my blog were On Disorganization and She Called Me Dad, both on p. 8, the former having had its title changed appropriately for the February issue: “Scrambled and Scattered by 12 Years on the Streets.”  

Now, I trust Terry’s editing in general.  Sometimes, a title change in particular will draw the reader toward a particular point of view the selected article might espouse.  There can be no doubt, for example, that I was indeed “scrambled and scattered” throughout my twelve years of sojourning on the streets of the City of Berkeley and elsewhere.   In many ways, it has been indisputable hell trying to readjust to a set of procedures that, while crucial to the more mainstream modes of living here in today’s America, is entirely inapplicable to the drastically altered set of conditions governing the lives of street people and of those who inhabit the Great Outdoors.

But there was also evidence of some pretty amazing grace that surfaced during the perplexing period when for years I drifted about the outskirts of what society holds to be acceptable.  There were even recurring gifts of a nature that I’ve been hard-pressed, while living indoors again, to replace.  This is why I know that my life has meaning.  It would be one thing if my task were only to report the sordid horrors of extended homeless living.  Some of these may surprise, or even startle or shock.  But we can be startled and shocked by sordid stories any day of the week, anytime, anywhere.  It’s the stuff that was good — that seems almost irreplaceable — that often goes unreported.

The challenge to find sufficient replacement for these blessings is something that adds new purpose to my path.   Anyone who’s been reading me throughout the past year and a half will know that my path toward accepting and positively managing the details of indoor living has not been a straight line.  It’s tempting at times to want to default back to a homeless situation, despite the inherent dangers thereof.   To address that dynamic, it makes sense that I would be about discovering what it is that certain redemptive aspects of the homeless experience were providing for me, so that I might regain their provision, in a different form, in my new story of indoor life.  

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