Mickey Z
Cool Observer
Saturday, November 05, 2005
Billy Blanks owes me $150
Holy Kitty Littler, Bat Dude, you’re hardly being showered with comments here! When shall the Expendables “return” to tell tales?
I have a question. Why is it, when a relationship ends, do some people feel the need to fight? What closure is wrought in anger and conflict that gives the angry and conflicted satisfaction?
I spent nine hours being fought with last night, as Punkin has no desire to “end a perfectly good thing.” Funny way of showing it, in my opinion, picking and sustaining a battle.
A long-ago lesson brought home to me the uselessness of fighting about the past. In 1987, I was a bored, drunk, self-involved cheater. My patient and delightful wife, Theresa, was 47 to my 27 and pretty much over the dramatics stage of relationships. My peccadillos with men left her feeling a little annoyed, but only a little...which fact she related to me in calm, rational tones. The smallness of her response, she told me, was a clue as to her actual involvement in this relationship; she wasn’t really with me,just marking time, so she was moving back to Latin America to guard her three kids’ inheritance.
I blew up, I screamed, I was furious and hurt and loud about it. (Incidentally, I was drunk AND coked up at the time, as well.) She listened patiently, which made me more furious, and then said the simplest and best thing one can say to a raging idiot: “I’m sorry I hurt you, but even this display of stupidity doesn’t make me love you any less.” And she walked upstairs and went to bed.
I’d love to say I went sober that night, and realized I WAS acting like an idiot, but I left the house and never came back, sure of my Rightness and nursing a hurt ego. The boy of the moment, I think his name was Pepe, distracted me until Theresa was gone.
Our entanglement didn’t end there, but for me, a larger lesson had been given and slowly revealed itrself to me: I was ANGRY. Not at her, particularly, just ANGRY. That startled me, I considered myself a generous, genial chap. What was I so angry about?
I moved to New York not long after this fight, and space plus time equaled answers for me. I deal with the fallout of those answers every day, and I cannot ever begin to thank Theresa enough for hitting my psychic smugness with that destabilizing, painful sucker-punch. I pray every night for her happiness and well-being in sheer gratitude.
And I have to say, after that, I haven’t seen the point in fighting about much of anything ego-related. That’s freed up a lot of anger to become righteous indignation, hence my presence in the lefty trenches. Who knows, while hanging around here maybe one day a cosmic ray will sever a synapse and I’ll even become a vegetarian! (Could never be vegan, too hard, not enough in it for me.)
Posted by Mudge on from Dear, dead Austin 11/05 at 10:55 AMOkay, now to catch up with last night:
Jarhead was excruciating, except for Jake Gyllenhall’s nudity, and I have seldom seen anything I liked better come out of Hollywood. The timing and the message are spot-on, and the film itslef unusually well structured for a Hollywood film. About 5min too long, IMO, but it’s barely a blip on my Curmudge-dar.
Joe, you earned every comment in praise of your writing, and thinking, and essential being. You, sir, are an artist, and the sooner you cop to it, the happier you will be, and the more entertained and challenged and thrilled we your audience will be. NaNo.
Helga, it’s 86F here right now, breezy and sunny and exactly perfect...if this was August. In my fantasy world, it’s always between 40F and 78F, cloudy or partly cloudy, with daily rainstorms. And yet I am uncomfortable in Seattle! I think there’s something wrong with me....from the time I get there to the time I leave, I can’t shake memories of Pompeii....
RMJ, see above...ready to come for a visit? As to fluffing MZ’s book, I don’t know if it would do any good. Austin’s book-buying public is pretty savvy, we’re one of Amazon’s top shipping destinations, f/ex; resistance to sales pitches is strong here. I spent the $10 I didn’t have to spend on entertaiment in my budget (got taken to see Jarhead) to give my brother who works at the local paper a copy, with instructions to read and pass on to the book editor. I wasn’t about to give up MY copy, it’s inscribed! I’ll nag him next week.
JOS, my inbox is bereft of a file with your novel in it...ain’t showin’ you mine ‘til I see yours....
Michael, keep thumpin’ my Scot, keep thumpin’ because the world needs the kind of outrage reading your blog induces in those even partially sentient. The Ragged-Trousered Philanthropist is my annual Christmas book from my wealthy Repulsivecan Christian sister, I’ve decided.
If I neglected anyone’s post that even tangentially relates to me, it was inadvertent, but hey y’all...how cool is this, that there is so much ferment in this tank that we CAN overlook something!!
Posted by Mudge on from Dear, dead Austin 11/05 at 11:32 AMCool! Your even on IMDB!
http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0955273/
My short little professional film career was all behind the scenes. Toting camera and lighting equipment for a small production company in Burbank California. Mostly filming Horse shows, little BS productions and even one low budget porn called “Ordinary Couples, Extraordinary sex” part of which was filmed at this wonderful house made from geodesic domes high up in Sierra Madre’s. The owners were really very cool and forward thinking in there way. Very spiritual from a new age perspective. I was fortunate and became friends with the owner and one weekend he invited me to partake in a Sweat lodge ceremony. He, myself, and a small group of friends and family came together , built the sweat lodge structure, and had an elegant little ceremony. It was extremely cool and very sweaty.
Posted by Luna_C on from somethin' somethin' 11/05 at 12:19 PMMick, wasn’t Fast Eddie’s on the Upper East Side? I know I’ve been there...I can picture the sign out front. That’s about all I remember as it was during my heavy drinking days. Great story...I think Billy Blanks owes you some hefty interest on that $150.
Mudge, I wouldn’t want to torture you with my “novel” at this juncture as it is currently in a form that is unreadable...give me a week to give it some form and then we’ll make the exchange.
Hello Luna_C.
Fast Eddie’s brought back a fuzzy memory that I may or may not share later in the form of a story. It ain’t pretty and I wouldn’t want to spoil what’s left of my sterling reputation.
See you all later.
Posted by JOS on from Calle Colón 11/05 at 12:41 PMMorning, Luna and Mudge. It’s a gorgeous day here in NYC. I’m heading out soon to revel in the fact I can wear shorts and a tank top in November. Let’s hear it for global warming…
Mudge: I know you a long time but never knew the specifics of your marriage and break-up. What a sordid tale.
Luna: The good vibes upon which your story ended complemented Mudge’s message.
We all fall into those traps, huh? Responding with emotion. Not thinking first (or at all). Trying to always be right. Damn, I’ve wasted so much time trying to be right and I’m ashamed of it. This year alone has been a breakthrough for me, re: learning how rarely I actually am right. I’ve undergone a fair amount of psychological “change” as a result.
I’d love to write a memoir-style book one day...as a cautionary tale, of course. I think I’d call it “Billy Blanks Owes Me $150.”
Posted by Mickey Z. on from Astoria 11/05 at 12:42 PMSorry, JOS. It happened again. I “wrote” as you “wrote.” Anyway, I’m looking forward to you soiling your image here later.
Btw, Fast Eddie’s near the Garden. In the 30’s.
Posted by Mickey Z. on from Astoria 11/05 at 12:44 PMMZ, I don’t spend a lot of time retailing the demise of my relationships, this space notwithstanding, except to make some point or another. You, o 16-years-happy, need no messages from MY grave to order your life! (Grave reference courtesy of GBS) It was and is a sordid tale, and got moreso as the years passed. I am nothing if not stubborn, and must needs be clonked hard several times before any lesson is learned.
Hi Luna! sweatlodge experiences are great, care to share details?
Yo JOS. Unreadable my lily-white one. You seem to use a Mac, which might be evidence of a relentlessly contrarian nature, but Word and suchlike word processing software is almost always compatible across platforms these days. Remembering that I spent almost a decade reviewing 2500+ incoherent ramblings a year when I was an agent, what was your excuse again?
Sterling reputation? You HAVE a sterling reputation? Where, with whom, and why?
Too damn hot, I need to turn on the a/c. Check in later.
Posted by Mudge on from Dear, dead Austin 11/05 at 02:41 PMDelightful story, MickeyZ! Throughout the day, my friend, I’m certain you will liter-ally be showered with praise…
(We have 4 cats. None of them go out, ever. joe cleans the cat box. What joe has seen - and smelled - must never be spoken aloud...)
Mudge, interesting, and sad tale. I have many similar tales. Being an idiot is hard work, but I’ve never once backed away from the struggle. I’ve been a complete fool on three different continents. Now, I’m dispensing wisdom in essays!
Jesus, somebody shoot me!Hi Luna - I’ve never been in a sweat-lodge, but I spent a few weeks in a geodesic dome, out in the woods in northern Michigan. The way the sound moved about, inside, was eerie. Sometimes it was hard to hear the words of someone just a few feet away, while a whisper from the other - uh, end?, curve?, side?, - of the structure was often crystal clear, almost “too” clear…
Did you experience any of that?I have a story…
Posted by joe on from over to the left... 11/05 at 02:54 PM(Hey, Hi to you, JOS - hope you have a great day out there...)
A long, long time ago, I was living in Saratoga Springs, and hanging out alot at a place called Cafe Lena. Saratoga was a magical little town, and Cafe Lena was a legendary folk-music cafe, on a very unusual little street - Phila Street. During the summer, the area was swamped with orthodox Jews, all dressed in black, with their long braids and heavy beards and perpetual frowns. Hippies and freaks of all sorts lived on the next block, on Caroline Street, and the resulting street life looked like something out of a Fellini movie.
Lena was a chubby, smart, wise, no-nonsense 60-something lady, who knew virtually every talented folk singer in North America. She regularly received cards and notes from musicians all over the world, Don McLean and Bob Dylan among them, and the parade, in and out, of radicals and folk singers and crusty old wobblies and delighted, wide-eyed kids, like me - was endless.
(She died a while back, and “Lena’s,” as we all knew it and loved it, has ceased to exist, though the structure and the name remain.)
Well, Utah Phillips roared into the cafe one afternoon, and after he and Lena were finished hugging and gasping and giggling, Lena introduced us. By the end of that day, after talking with him and watching him and, especially - listening to him sing, I was almost in love. He was the big, loud, burly, brilliant, giant of a man I’d always wanted my father to be. For a while, whenever I could, I followed him around like a puppy. When he was in town, singers and song writers and old “forest activists,” poets and novelists and strange, smelly, incredibly bright vagrant types of all sorts, would suddenly turn up to talk and argue and reminisce. I had never seen anything like it…
Anyway, I began to try to write songs. I worked and worked, whenever I had a spare moment. I told Mr. Phillips about my aspirations, and he replied that most people confused poetry with song writing. He said he prefered to sing songs and read poems.
After many weeks of thoughtful, painstaking work, I showed him a few of my songs.
This was his only response, ever -
“Well, these are really songs. They’re not poems, Joe.”After a while, I got over it, and returned to trying to write fiction. I never quite fell out of love with the big guy, however… I hear he’s still around. Did some work with Annie DiFranco.
I bet he likes her songs…Posted by joe on from behind the scenes 11/05 at 03:01 PMOho, the truth comes out! joe, you’re still hurt at the rejection you suffered from Utah, your man-crush! His opinion was honest, and you seem to agree with it, but wild, tumultuous praise wasn’t frothcoming--isn’t very often, and should ALWAYS be regarded with deep and abiding suspicion when it is. You returned to fiction then...and now? NaNo.
It’s such a huge blessing to be in a place during its magic “times.” Austin in the 70s and 80s was a lot like that. Now, 30 years on from the hippie times, it’s trending ever so slowly back that way. I hope it is, anyway, and that’s not simply wishful thinking on my part.
Posted by Mudge on from Dear, dead Austin 11/05 at 03:37 PMHey, Joe, (I have always wanted to say that, Sorry!)
Anyway, you’ve made it onto WHATREALLYHAPPENED.
Should boost the readership!
Looking forward to more ....... no pressure, mind!Posted by Jim on from 11/05 at 03:41 PMMudge, ask and you shall receive. But don’t say I didn’t warn you...its got a long way to go, so much of the story is left to be told.
Hey Joe! I always greet Joe that way Jim...just like Jimi says.
I am goin out and about as they say in Toronto. Be back late.
JOS
Posted by JOS on from Calle Colón 11/05 at 04:10 PMThanks for the stories guys. Mickey, according to imdb you’re banned in Iceland for The Breeders. For the weekend I’m visiting my mother in the middle of lovely French nowhere, we’re gonna watch The Corporation and I’ll post a story later tonight.
Posted by Owen on from a cottage with no neighbours, Pyrennees 11/05 at 04:27 PMHi Humans -
Here’s a link to some great pics of the old one at an IWW conference, in case anyone would like to peek.Mudge, yup, my 22 year old self was dashed against the rocks… Still, I kept hanging about, soaking up whatever I could of the genius rushing all round.
Sadly, Saratoga, too, has been mostly taken over by the yuppies. About 8 years ago, I was in town, and I drove by an old apartment I once rented for $90.00 a month. It was for up for rent, and was being offered for $700.+
Of course, it was all schnazied up.Since Lena’s death, the cafe has incorporated!
I’m sure her corpse is banging on the box walls in fury…Jim - I’m still confused about where that last essay came from. Once my head stops spinning, I’ll be able to locate my pen and paper. Thanks for the ‘heads up’ about whatreallyhappened…
Here’s one more thing I simply can’t resist posting. From an email I received, yesterday:
protest sign seen at an anti-war demonstration:
“SOMEONE PLEASE JUST GIVE HIM A BLOW JOB SO WE CAN HAVE HIM IMPEACHED.”Posted by joe on from Santorini, Greece 11/05 at 04:31 PMThe Utah Phillips link takes one to a “main page.” The link I was hoping folks would peek at is “Pictures 26” - a link on the left. There are lots of wonderful pics of all these old radicals and folk-singers. Wonderful site.
Posted by joe on from same 11/05 at 04:35 PMSo I’m banned in Iceland, huh? Too bad, I was planning a beach vacation there next January.
Hey Joe...where you goin’ with that...ah, never mind. Thanks for the Utah images. He’s one Utah that’s not infested with Mormons.
Posted by Mickey Z. on from Astoria 11/05 at 04:44 PMIf it’s a GUARANTEE the a-hole will be impeached, I’ll do it. Anything for my country. Well, almost...he has to keep his clothes on.
Joe, the pics of Utah Phillips are great! It’s nice to see that the Angel Moroni, whose missing golden tablets in Joe Smith shitpile started the whole shootin’ match called Mormonism, has a big brother who’ll try to take the embarrassing stain off the name “Utah.”
Re: real estate, my parents’ admittedly huge (6000sf) house built in Los Gatos, CA, in 1960 for about $60,000 is now worth over $4mil. The fourplex Mama sold for $300,000 in Austin, about 5 miles from where I sit, is now worth $850,000.
I have a question...what constitutes “enough” in capitalist terms? In other words, is there a “natural” ceiling inherent in markets, or is that simply wool-headedness on my part?
Glurk. I’m goin’ to take myself a shower before I spread kitty litter everywhere. :->
Posted by Mudge on from Dear, dead Austin 11/05 at 07:23 PMHere’s a true story I challenge any Expendable to top.....exactly 37 years ago right now, my labor pains started which led to the birth of a beautiful baby girl. Bet you can’t top that one Mudge!!!
Posted by RMJ on from Churchill 4 Prez Hdqts 11/05 at 07:37 PMOkay, RMJ, all I got is this: On the topic of both birth and labor pains, 150 years ago today, Eugene V. Debs was born.
P.S. Happy B’day to your daughter, Christine.
Mudge, since you brought up the Angel Moron...I mean, Moroni, I’m wondering if anyone here has read “Under the Banner of Heaven.” Useful expose of the Mormons...some of whom are as dangerously fundamentalist as Osama, Pat Robertson, or Meir Kahane (who was shot and killed 15 years ago today).
Posted by Mickey Z. on from Astoria 11/05 at 07:52 PMG’night, all.
Posted by Mickey Z. on from Astoria 11/05 at 11:56 PMHey, Mickey,
This is Jorn from RH and the Brooklyn Navy Yard days. Just thought I’d say hello. Haven’t seen the Dark One around town, have you?
MDPosted by Jorn on from Northeast 11/08 at 01:38 PMI’ve seen more than a few Dark Ones, Michael. What had you looking up RH on Google?
Posted by Mickey Z. on from Astoria 11/08 at 01:55 PMThe name Kincaid came up in another context. Got me wondering whatever became of Tim (and Cynthia).
Posted by Michael Downend on from Northeast 11/08 at 02:00 PMWhat an excellent coincidence. Glad you stopped by and hope you’ll come back and join the conversations some time.
Posted by Mickey Z. on from Astoria 11/08 at 02:33 PMHi all, Been busy the last few days but didn’t want to leave comments hanging. ;)
Mudge: It was an amazing experience. I’m not sure if I got all the spiritual ramifications behind the event. I think I would of needed a regular dose of a good sweat with a community of close friends for that to happen. It has a very communal kind of feel to it. Sharing the intensity of the heat and the delicious sharpness of the cold as you step outside when it becomes to intense. All the while letting go and releasing not only the toxins in your body but the troubles of your soul.
Joe: Yep your right the acoustics we’re really bizarre in that place. It was kind of a pain because when filming the crew had to be really quiet because the mic would pick up noise from everywhere. I did get to try the whispering effect your talking about. I could crouch behind a couch and talk really softly and someone on the other side of the room could hear me like I was standing right next to them. Trippy…
Peace and love,
LPosted by Luna_C on from somethin' somethin' 11/10 at 10:51 AM
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