A lil' universal nonsense sprinkled with a slice of ego....

In the immortal words of gumdrop daddy Willy Wonka....

"My dear friend, Candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker."

No, in the immortal words of Willy Wonka....

"We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of a dream."

"No!!!! In the immortal words of Willy Wonka....

"A communist, a lesbian and an Oompa-Loompa walk into a bar...."

NO!!!! In the immortal words of Willy Wonka, "A little nonsense now and then is relished by the wisest men." Only in the movie Gene Autry hums the proverb into the Winston Churchill-ish chin of my ex-girlfriend Veruca Salt's father after he pans Wonka's golden "good" egg "bad" egg machination as "alotta nonsense." Last night, during an untapped phone conversation with a friend (hmmmm...geez... wonder who?)I jabbered that I was going to change my name from the healthy germanic gruff of "David Von Behren" to the narcissistic banner of "Universal Male" so that everytime an angel hushes out a mystical maxim linked to the "Universal Male" motif they can feel free to flutter in my direction......

My health is improving in Goliath-like strides. Color has been finding it's way back into the folds of my face. Dreams adorn themselves to the ritual of sleep. I'm smoking less, hacking less, even keeping Uncle Mike's pad tidy for once. And even though I'm first to confess that longevity is over-rated and I'd rather die young than see myself in fifty years in both Dentures and Depends (the last Father/Son activity I shared with my Dad was helping him take a shit--God, who wants to be remembered like that?), the steady cramps and rashes and nausea that accompanied me like the trinity these last twenty-or-so months are slowly starting to subside, lifting north like a billowing stage curtain at the beginning of a high school thesbian production.

Of course, I can't grouse too much. I learned poverty, found Uncle Mike and learned not to be so stuffy and pretentious with my literary ambitions. One night, after fifteen months of failure and no sleep, I came home far past midnight and told Mike that I felt compelled to ink my John Hancock on a Declaration of faith.
And of course, imminently, there was no change. I still didn't sleep. I wrote filth disguised under the substratum of literary greatness. My car died the very next week (also a blessing), beautiful Erica Johnson still smiled at me crookedly and pretended she was deaf everytime I availed my dreams ...but, of course, I feel blessed to have been on such a path and await with wild anticipation what "universal" creature will sprout up naked next before my eyes.
*

"I saw grief drinking a cup of sorrow and called out, "It tastes sweet, does it not?" "You've caught me," grief answered, "and you've ruined my business, how can I sell sorrow when you know it's a blessing?" — Jalaluddin Rumi

*
Sometimes I wonder (even in my own lifetime) if human beings will totally divorce themselves from the biological category of mammal. If the onslaught fluss of technology and global acceleration of mankind will propel us into a divine realm of both omniscient and astonishing creations. Even in my own lifetime, I've gone from sitting in front of a fuzzy screen, being educated by stringed-puppets ferrying letters and numbers to having eveything I can every fathom or even want to know (even sins) in front of me, instantly, accessed with a few right clicks.

What a time it is to be alive. What a blessing it is simply to be.

*
And the blessings were like poets that we never find time to know,
But when time stopped I found the place where the poets go.
And they said, "Here have some coffee, it's straight, black and very old,"
And they gave me sticks and rocks and stars and all that I could hold,

I had the blessings, a moment of peace even when the night ends,
Yeah the blessings, can we meet? Can we meet again,
At the crossroads of disaster and the imperfect smile,
With the angel in the streetlamp that blinks on as I walk on a mile, the blessings.

And the best ones were the ones I got to keep as I grew strong,
And the days that opened up until my whole life could belong,
And now I'm getting the answers, when I don't need them anymore,
I'm finding the pictures, and I finally know what I kept them for,
I remember, I can see them, see them smiling, see them stuck,
See them try, I wish them luck and all the blessings.

I was fast asleep at three in the morning when I got the payphone call,
And she said, "Did I wake you up," I said, "Hey, no, not at all."
And she said, "I got this suitcase and I don't know what to pack,"
And I said, "You can take anything you want, just wait and see,
It's not a release, not a reward, it's the blessings,
Its the gift of what you notice more,"
And I walked out and I watched her kick the big pile of the night,
And we sat down and we waited for that strange and empty light.
Yeah the blessings...

Folk Singer Dar Williams, "The Blessing" Mortal City (1996)