Icy Odyssey: going into an igloo with UCO students:

I wanted to stay indoors during the winter storm the last few days, Thursday through Sunday, but I ended up having some icy adventures instead...

First, getting out to the UCO Library before the doors closed on Thursday at noon, to get some books I've been waiting for, then driving to OKC to help a friend pick up their guitar. It began to sleet heavily as I made my way to OKC. But after a rescue mission with an electric guitar from questionable circumstances, where it had to be left or carried through the rain, I made it back to Edmond through the sleet as it became more and more like the ice capades.

I stayed inside until Saturday, but then had to get my car ready for work, driving deliveries for Domino's pizza Saturday from 5pm until we were through. I managed to get the job done with an ice pick and a scraper. The ice was in layers. Underneath the first layer of ice, every thing was filled with sleet, then a layer of ice covered the sleet. Next a layer of snow about 1/4 to 1/2 inch thick, then a second layer of ice 1/4 to 1/2 inches thick and another three inches of snow on top of it all! It was amazing how the ice on the windshield was thicker than the windshield!

As I made deliveries, everything was going okay, until I stepped into a puddle of icy slush-water that turned out to be a pot hole which sank a few inches deep, completely covering my shoes, so my feet were wet the rest of the night! (I knew I should have worn my platforms!) Twice, there were cars with huge sheets of thick ice that flew from the roof of their SUV's, twirling in mid air and narrowly missing my car, shattering onto the road next to me. Luckily, I didn't get struck or stuck on the way. One SUV was almost at the top of a hill to exit a shopping center. I could see his chrome wheels spinning, but I couldn't tell if his car actually had spinners or if he was just having trouble reaching the top of the hill!

Sunday night, working again, the roads were still slick and difficult to drive or walk on. I was somewhat amazed and disappointed that I didn't see more snowmen out on my deliveries, and one abandoned attempt to build an igloo. Feeling a little disappointed that the project was abandoned, I wondered if there were any others who made an effort to build an igloo in the snow. Then I got a delivery for a house near the UCO campus. Some students had actually built an igloo and called in an order for someone to deliver their pizza to the igloo in their backyard! Since it was my turn, I took it, wondering what I would find. When I got there I saw an impressively large igloo! They wanted me to come inside and see their igloo, which I was happy to do! There were six people inside, and three lanterns. It was also a warm relief from being in the cold, even if we had to crawl in on all fours. However the inside was spacious and had a dome roof, so there was plenty of room to move around, which reminded me of a Japanese tea house. They wanted to take pictures of us all with their pizza and to share the moment with their delivery driver. Here is a couple of pictures they took with my phone. The other five students were each sitting around in a circle across from us, taking the pictures. It's an odyssey I'm glad I didn't miss, discovering a new way to chill with neighbors... and, except for seeing the photo of myself in my uniform, I almost forgot to get back to work!

bLue monDay

One of the benefits of a pizza delivery job is having the opportunity to share with others who might not be able to enjoy pizza when things are tight, or who haven't had a meal in a good while. Last night I made a run to OKC to take a hot pizza to my friend, Cooper, after work and make sure he was doing okay. (I often wonder if I get this 'drive' from my grandmother, who, during WWII in Germany used to ride her bike to the nearby villages, collecting food donations to take to the workers who were prisoners of war at the factory in the town where she lived.) Cooper had only eaten rice krispies in a couple of days, so he was grateful for the meal!

The rest of the night after I got home was an alternating blur of writing, sleeping, waking, texting, and cutting from scene to scene in my brain's pool of random thoughts and dreams, friends in flux and various musical selections. Two hours of subversive sleep was all I could manage to squeeze out of the ordeal... by 7am Monday morning the vibes of the day began again (from my cell phone)...then, oh no, let's go...

Picking up Cooper in OKC and caffeine seemed to be the first order of the day. Sunglasses shielding me from the morning's whiteness, I asked the ominous voice at the drive-thru speaker for 4 creams and 10 sugars (for 2 coffees), thinking they would throw them into a bag and we'd add them ourselves on the way, but when we got to the window, they had already added them, all four creams and ten sugars per cup! The sun was bright, after all! So, what the hell...

Cooper had been awake all night as well, I know this because he kept me updated with texts. He also wanted to get an early start on the day and make it to a pawn shop somewhere before he had to go to work. (Cooper, work? yeah, right! As long as there is socializing and music involved, net-working is his strong point.) As a musician and front man for a band, it is understandable that he lives for his art. The urgent errand had to do with his cat, who was with him since he was five years old, who is dying. She can't eat or keep her food down. He needed a way to get her some help, and he had been wanting to get rid of one of his sound systems.

The sound system in question was a constant reminder of the loss of his father this Christmas, who had succumbed to lung and liver cancer over the last year and a half. Cooper was just turning 20 when he found out, the week of his birthday, that his father was dying of cancer. It had been a difficult relationship between them from the start, but they were able to make some progress occasionally, however the progress of the disease was more relentless and not preventable.

On our way back to his friend's house, we drove through Edmond talking about our most recent political and world concerns, music, and lyrics as usual. But, this morning, on every main cross-street corner in town, there were groups of high school girls dressed in pink-everything for "swine week," to raise funds for the community to provide aid for children with cancer. The sun was glaring brighter as we drove wide-eyed and surreal-ly wakeful after no sleep the night before. As we passed the third group of cheerful, enthusiastic fund-raisers, Cooper, who hasn't said much about the loss of his father so far, said, "This sucks, someone should tell them... there isn't a cure. I saw what cancer does to a person first-hand. For the last year I saw my father's mind break, who had always been a very strong person. I watched his body deteriorate to skin and bone until he could no longer breathe. In a particular way that Cooper brings words together, sharply barbed and forceful, as if breaking into the depths of your soul and uprooting words like mandrakes, they somehow shriek from the marrow of your heart and you feel the agony of his pain as he expresses his words with sighs that can be felt like the back-lashing wind after a bomb detonates, another point that makes him a good motivational or political speaker and vocalist within his music genre. He said, "Anger is a Disease, passed from Generation to generation, till you don't even know why you are angry" (percussion, percussion, percussion). "Cancer is a kind of leprosy that eats away at your insides, a kind of Symptom that grabs hold of its Victim and drains them like a plant that is embedded, which sucks the life right out of you" (Roaaaaarrrrr-rrrrrrr! as your breath was just sucked away). He should be called "soul reaver." If you hear his music, you can hear the shrieks and roars he makes for real, which sound like a hawk falling from the sky, fatally-wounded by an arrow. I tried not to show my tears over his agonizing loss, knowing it does not go well with strong coffee, bloodshot eyes, and full sunlight. But, even wearing sunglasses, my nose always turns red when I tear up, so it couldn't help being noticed.

After I thought about the day, I considered the idea of having a special day to remember those who have lost a loved one to cancer, especially when they face much the same reminders with campaigning and fund-raising during their times of loss. Maybe it could be called "Blue Monday," with a blue ribbon to remember their loved one or friend.

For one thing, a blue ribbon is awarded for first place in certain athletic or competitive endeavors. I believe a battle with cancer would qualify as one of the most competitive and courageous fights to endure.

In the list of awareness ribbons, I didn't see a color that was used for this specific cause, so maybe it is an option, although I haven't had a chance to investigate it thoroughly.

Also, in symbolism, a blue ribbon can signify something of high quality. So, even though the battle with cancer continues, the quality of the lives who have been lost through their battle with cancer could be remembered and valued in this way. It is a reminder not to be afraid to talk to some one about the loss of their loved one; it is a chance for them to remember and their loved one to be remembered. Even speaking the name their loved one can be significant to someone in grief, as well as the comfort of sharing their memories.

Just a thought about my friend's loss on this blue Monday.

Cooper's music: Warped Corpses

Thoughts on Allen Ginsberg: "respect what rises" - pictures in the mind

I have been writing a poem lately. I was not content with what I wrote so far, so I decided to put it aside for a few days. Then this week, I saw a youtube video clip of Allen Ginsberg 'talking to fools' about the writing process. I was already aware of the problem to a degree, but I didn't know what to do about it. When I write, sometimes the thoughts flow and sometimes I get stuck on what words to use to express my thoughts. My way of dealing with it was to take the short cut and fill in something to get an idea of what I wanted to say, thinking I'd come back to it later when I find the right words. But then, when I thought about it later, I would loose my muse. The emotion and creative flow had vanished and it didn't work.

Ginsberg mentioned this sequence and said that the writer needs to take time to visualize what he wants to say when he comes to that point of being stuck, to forget about the words and think about the picture in his mind, and then describe the picture in his mind while the creative energy is present. The results for me before, were that I could tell when I was substituting, or if I was writing from that creative place.

One of the themes of my poem was about the fog. After I got home last night, I realized I needed some things at the store. I also had a lot on my mind, so I wanted to get out for some fresh air. When I went outside, a thick fog had moved in and as I stepped outside I was submerged in the very context of my poem, I knew my muse had arrived. I tried writing again last night with Ginsberg's words in mind, (Jack Kerouac's suggestion) and it worked so much better! I realized that when I paint it is a similar process, and as my previous blog demonstrates, the things I thought I would come back to do later were sometimes left undone.

"It is you and I who are perfect, not the next world." Allen Ginsberg, America

Ah! Sun-Flower

AH! SUN-FLOWER

Ah Sun-flower! weary of time,
Who countest the steps of the Sun,
Seeking after that sweet golden clime
Where the travellers journey is done

Where the Youth pined away with desire,
And the pale Virgin shrouded in snow:
Arise from their graves, and aspire
Where my Sun-flower wishes to go. - William Blake

This is a picture of a road east off of Post Road in OKC, OK that is covered with sunflowers in the fall. I had been reading Vincent Van Gogh's Volumes of his letters to his brother, Theo, while I was in Newport Beach, CA at a beach house for a week. I was sick when I got there (flu), so I spent a lot of time reading. The room I stayed in when I arrived had pictures of Van Gogh paintings on the wall, which was really cool because I had packed one of Van Gogh's Volumes of his letters. I decided to paint a picture of the road bursting like a riot with sunflowers when I got back to OKC, but it was late August and the flowers were already gone. I took a picture anyway and painted it, thinking I would add the sunflowers later; but I ended up giving the painting away to another painter, who gave me his painting of my favorite Van Gogh portrait in exchange. He (my friend, Chris, who did the painting), died within a year later, and was buried with his paint brushes placed in his hand.

I always felt like the sunflowers were missing from the painting, until I read this poem by William Blake. Then I realized they weren't gone, they just aspired!

(One more interesting observation about the poem that coincided with my trip is that the same week while I was in Newport Beach, there was an eclipse of the moon, which could be seen clearly, which reminded me of the line, "the pale Virgin shrouded in snow" that arose from her grave.)