Gratitude List 1310

This one’s from last Thursday morning, Halloween in fact.  

1. Slept five surprisingly solid hours between midnight and 5 am, was surprised it was already 5 when I first woke.

2. Took a long hot shower before bed. It still blows my mind how I’m able to do that now, without having to interact with multiple other men, many of whom have been suspicious characters. I still remember my friend George getting his Ibanez custom ripped off during the 5 minutes he was taking a shower at Multi Agency Service Center. Thankful those days are gone.

3. Meditation service was nice. It was gentle. Thomas mentioned liking the Prelude. I didn’t think I was playing very well, but sometimes that’s the best.

4. Did the door last night and got a $20 gift card to use at the cafe. Just used $5.50 of it on a doppio and blueberry muffin. Breakfast at the Courtyard is now obviated, and money saved.

5. The singer-songwriter, Julien Kozak, was also gentle. Very good guitarist and singer, reminiscent of James Taylor. Stopped on his way to Seattle. I am reminded of a gentle period in the 80’s when I used to tour different cafes in the Bay Area. Makes me want to do a tour.

6. You know, I have a really good church now. I’ve been at the same church for over 3 years. This is unusual, in my experience.  My church is a gift from God.

7. Got to talk with Danielle first thing in the morning, and we had a great conversation. There were so many spiritual insights, I was taking notes, and just finished writing down a whole bunch of stuff in my journal, lest I forget.

8. Not having heard from her for a while, I just got a substantial email from Lynne that looks very supportive and insightful. I skimmed it by reading the topic sentences of several paragraphs and am eager to see what all she has to say.

9. Had a nice conversation with Vern yesterday — not Vern the bus driver, but Vern the trumpet player. I’m grateful to be living in a town where everybody knows me as Andy, and where, whether it’s Vern the bus driver, Vern the trumpet player, or anybody else, Andy is ALL RIGHT.

10. God is Love.

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Gratitude List 1264

1. Slept six hours last night between 8pm and 2am. Also got an hour nap yesterday afternoon between 12:30 & 1:30.

2. Ran three miles yesterday morning. I see no reason not to run a couple miles or more this morning, with better form.

3. Was in a good mood during the gig at Jodie’s church, played “Be Thou My Vision,” and got a lot out of the sermon.

4. Jodie paid me $50 in cash. Now I can pay the phone bill.

5. Just noticed it was Proverbs 16 this morning, my favorite chapter in Proverbs. Just looked at 16:7, my favorite verse in Proverbs, and it applies.

6. Good Grapevine meeting last night, sat between two members whom I like who shall remain anonymous, and talked afterward to a member of the clergy who shall remain anonymous. It was a lot like an Al-Anon meeting, and I needed that. Gained from it.

7. Ran into J. drinking at an outdoor establishment taking with D., and tried to avoid them so as to continue doing all the creative work that I typically do “in my head” while briskly walking.  But then, when J. hailed me, I succeeded in not responding with annoyance, as though it were an impolite intrusion.  Rather, I managed to be cordial and smiling with both of them, though still successfully conveying that I had work to do, and managing a getaway without appearing hostile.  For me, this is a breakthrough.  I hate it when people interrupt my work, and it’s been frustrating trying to explain to non-autistic sorts that most of my work is done invisibly in my head.

8. Was praying that somebody would let go, when it came to me that I was the one who needed to let go.

9. I have discovered a truly marvelous resolution to the last Scene in Eden in Babylon, which unfortunately this margin is too narrow to hold.

10. I so love the “absolutely quiet hours.” Can’t wait to finish my reading — and write. God is Good.

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Gratitude List 1192

1. Went to bed early (seven or so) and slept well — possibly too well — till about 4:45am. Was definitely up & about after that. Grateful to have gotten up early, and felt early morning wakefulness and light spirits.

2. Strongly sensing that a lengthy period of isolation and extremely low self-regard has come to an end.

3. Courtyard Cafe, nice Starbucks coffee. Had a large “tastes like morning” from the Sunset, too, which discouraged going back to bed and pulling the covers over my head again, like a slacker.

4. Phone is working again, though dimly. Thinking of the need for a new phone, I also can’t help but think how I actually have held on to this Samsung, ever since it was awkwardly gifted to me, and have not hurled it to the ground in order to stomp it to bits. So a new phone is not out of the question, as it once would have been.

5. Nice of the pastor Jodie to think of me for a 10am Sunday piano playing engagement of some sort; however, I also told her to give me a day to think about it, as I am unaccustomed to people asking me to play piano during the period of a church service. Still, nice of her to think of me; and I noticed I got on with her very well at Theology on Tap.

6. Grateful for the positive spirit of acceptance and belonging that pervades the community wherein I dwell.  The strong sense of community here is a big deterrent to my tendency to want to isolate myself more deeply.

7. Grateful for some of the things I learned on the streets, though others must be shed. Thankful for developing discernment, to absorb what’s of value and discard the rest.

8. Though I’ve not been feeling entirely good about the communication to Dave that prompted the recent suspension of operations, I’ve not until this morning known exactly what it is about it that wasn’t exactly right. Now I see it, and I see that healing is possible.

9. Great that Kathy printed a new vocal score (sans opening & closing numbers) consisting of the most recent pdf files of all the individual numbers, pagination removed, per my request. This can’t help but be useful. Probably there will still be typos on certain pages, but those individual pages can be readily replaced and rebound. And then, the full body of the score will inform my opening and closing enhancements. Also great that she did new covers for the Pinnacle remakes, for I have brought five of them with me, plus two Exiles.

10. Got the interview down to shortly over one hour and posted it here. Information as to actual dates for the reading is no longer factual, but I just posted a disclaimer along with it. The thing is, I know to take the time to do all my particular homework before we reconvene.

And for that, the Howard piano is very strong for the kind of unique syncopation that characterizes the “Sirens” number I am trying to squeeze into Eden in Babylon in place of both versions of “Intervention.” The Baldwin grand can’t even accommodate any of those subtle accents and other distinct articulations. Finale software can pretty much replicate them, but the light action on the grand opposes them. Another good case for hanging on to the Howard.

It was good to get some of J’s things transferred as well. Maybe by now the Harvard Classics have been sent down. But still, my place of residence is dark and dingy and destitute. I’ve had to defer to the excellence of the Howard piano not to wish to succumb to a lingering urge to chop it into firewood. I sometimes wish I were just sleeping outdoors somewhere, and that I just didn’t have to mess with any of this burdensome household garbage. But I guess that’s just my stuff. God is Good.

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A little bit goes a long, long way.  

 

Awake the Dawn

This offering is a spin-off on the large choral number entitled “Awake the Dawn” that is featured in my new musical Eden in Babylon.  Although it essentially captures the spirit of the piece, it also involves improvisations around other songs that I have written over the years.

“Awake the Dawn” is a biblical expression found in two of the Psalms of David.  It’s Sunday; it’s early in the morning — c’mon people!  Let’s all Awake the Dawn.

“Awake the Dawn” from Eden in Babylon.  Copyright © 2018 by Andrew M. Pope.

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The Long and Winding Road

Hey, it’s Friday, and I got some piano for ya.  This one’s an old Todd Rundgren tune I kinda like:

This one here’s a Christian tune I heard in the 80’s.  (I had to google for the name.)

And finally, the famous Beatles song:

Usually I use a high-end Motorola smartphone, the property of my lady friend, to record these piano vids.  But she’s housebound with a bad knee, so I used the low-end Motorola of my Pastor Norman (the guy I’m talking to at the beginning of “Torch Song.”)  Its quality is not quite as crisp.

If you want even better quality, feel free to make a contribution.  The O.G.’s coming off of twelve years on the streets, and it’s not as though his net worth is anything bigger than Zero Point Zero at any given moment.

That said, still very grateful to for the blessing of indoor living.  I’m putting it to the best use possible, in God’s good time.

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Anything Helps – God Bless!

Welcome to Homelessness

I make a point of remembering important dates in my life.  One would think that the first night I slept outdoors, inaugurating twelve long years of homelessness, would be a very important date.  That I don’t know the date is telling.  Who wants to know a date like that?

I do know that I was prescribed the psychiatric drug klonopin on the morning that my mother was to die (unbeknownst to me) on October 9, 2003.   I do know I was asked to resign my teaching job on February 17, 2004.   I know that I was illegally evicted from my place of residence on April 1, 2004.   Though I became legally homeless on that date, I still had enough money for motel rooms to keep me afloat for another month or more.

The day when I stopped using klonopin was certainly one that I remember.   I went off of 4mg of klonopin cold turkey on May 10, 2004.  I never even had the seizure they told me I would have, as they tried to convince me to keep taking that God-awful drug that had lost me my shirt.  I was so relieved to finally be free of that stuff.  My short-term memory returned, I began to speak coherently again, and I started to remember the names of the people with whom I was conversing.

Though my living situation by that time was sketchy — an illegally parked motor home in the back yard of a friend of mine – at least I was still indoors.  But then, by May 20, 2004, I had lost my reading glasses after sleeping in Golden Gate Park. It was that day that inspired the first piece of literature I ever had published on the subject of homelessness: A New Pair of Glasses.

So it was at some point between May 10th and May 20th that I sat on a bench at a CalTrain station all night long, sometimes nodding off, sometimes waking with a start — to the sound of a roaring engine, or laughter from late night carousers, or some other noise in the night.   Cops would drive by, and I feared interrogation.  But they never stopped me.  Eventually, the sky grew light.  I grabbed a coffee at a nearby doughnut shop, then walked up to the church where for several years, I had been the Director of Music.

Pete, the pastor, had known of some of my recent struggles, and we seemed to be on good terms.  I had visited with him more than once in the past few months, and I figured he might be able to help me get up to San Francisco, where my friend Tony had promised to help.   As I strolled to the church on that bright sunny morning, I pondered how easily I had made it through the night.  There was nothing so far about homelessness that seemed intolerable.

When I arrived at the church, I saw that the Hispanic minister was there, along with two friends.  He did not recognize me from the 90’s, where he had seen me at the church organ many times.  Walking up to shake his hand, I told him that I remembered him from all of those joint preaching sessions, where he and Pete would take turns behind the pulpit on days when the Spanish-speaking congregation joined in with us English-speaking folks.

But he eyed me cautiously, as though I were somehow suspect.  The others looked at me strangely, too.  It seemed they did not believe me.  I could understand if the Hispanic pastor would not have recognized me.  But I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t being believed.  That seemed strange.  I had provided at least enough information for him to have made the connection.

“Pastor Peter will not be in today,” he said, in a guarded fashion.  “This is his day off.”

“Oh that’s right,” I said.  “He takes Mondays off after preaching on Sundays.  Well — I’ll just come back tomorrow again at eight.   Just let him know that Andy stopped by.”

“He won’t be in at eight tomorrow.  He never comes in before noon, you know.”

“He doesn’t?” I asked, perplexed.  “I just saw him a couple months ago.  He was in at eight as usual, the same way he always came in at eight every morning for years, when I worked here before.”

“Please, no more, sir,” he said.  “I cannot help you, and Peter will not help you.   Please go back to wherever you came from.”

love thy neighborAt that, a strange mix of fear and anger ripped through my body.  The man had not only lied to me about Pete’s schedule, but he blatantly refused to even consider that I might have been telling the truth.  Moreover, I had recognized him; I knew exactly who he was, and I could not possibly have changed my appearance so hugely in the past seven years, that he would think I was anyone other than who I said I was.

“And you call yourself a Christian pastor?” I said, outraged. “I’ll have you know I’m a decent guy who’s down on his luck, and you’re treating me like a scum bag.”

“Go!” he shouted, as his friends joined in.  “Go!  Go!  Go away!!”

Talk about your Monday morning! 

I stormed away in torment.  Somehow I knew at that moment that the worst was yet to come.   The worst thing about homelessness, I somehow sensed, would have nothing to do with weather conditions, or malnutrition, or even sleep deprivation — or any of the other things that people always ask about when they find out that one is homeless.  It would have to do with something they never ask about: the way I would be treated.   I would be cast out like a leper, as though one would contract a deadly disease just from being in my presence.

But if nothing else comes of my recounting this horrible memory, at least I have finally learned the exact date.   After all, it was Monday.   There is only one Monday between May 10, 2004 and May 20, 2004.   So the first night I slept outdoors was May 17, 2004.

How could I forget?

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