Making a small part of your life a Country Western Song in 2 very EASY steps….

From the MInd of the Manic

5.5.02

                                                          “Confessions of a River Dancer” ©2013, Robert Redus

“There probably aren’t a lot of actors my age who tap dance.” – Christopher Walken

there is always that point of recall…you know…that place where we can say it all began…John Anderson…the country western singer said… “It all started at a corner table, sipping on a Jack and Coke, and when the sun found us the next morning, we were acting like married folk” 

so some truth does exist that we might have an inkling of what is yet to come….I mean if you grew up in the 1970’s…went to a bar on a Friday night…chances are what you wanted just very well might have happened….wether it was drugs…trips to Albania in a cargo plane…sex…understanding what “Altered” really meant…or maybe being the best man at your best friend’s wedding just across the border with one of the girls you’d picked up a few hours earlier hitchhiking to Oregon….it…the true “it” was all there…and available for a small price at the time…

I once drove a car with 4 other people 3 of whom I’d met earlier that night…(around 10:30 at a bar in Juarez Mexico we left around midnight)…to LA to drop one of the guys off…we had an ice chest filled with beer some mangoes…a potted plant and 1/2 pound of dope…clearly…we only saw the inkling in small sporadic flashes across the windshield….throughout the entire trip…and to this day…I don’t know if anybody in the car actually…owned the car…when the haze cleared…we were at the point of no return and the guy we were dropping off in LA decided….he want to go to Reno instead….none of us had ever been to Reno…

my point is simple….what lies in front of us more often than not….has been there awhile…we’ve either stepped over it…walked around it…ignored or periodically acknowledged it…as if we are really going to get to it….and soon….and we drag it around like a sleeping bag…looking for a place to sleep…for the night

my father insisted I get a haircut every Wednesday night…and three of his army buddies and I would drive over the Zaragosa bridge into Mexico to get a haircut and a shoe shine for .45 cents….we then would stop at a bakery and eat some Mexican hard rolls with butter…buy a few cartons of cigarettes…and because one of his friends had a torrid love affair with vodka…he’d purchase 4 bottles of Oso Negro…you know the one with the little black bear on the chain around the neck of the bottle….we’d hide the vodka and cigarettes under the seat….every time my father passed through customs…. they’d asked him what we had to declare…he would answer….”Just haircuts and shined shoes”…one could easily look into the car and see all of us with really bad haircuts…and shiny shoes….that’s predictability to an extreme….but every Wednesday….I knew what to expect…and I can pinpoint…..starting day

Maybe almost 57 years old has offered up the why I believe this way lately….and maybe it hasn’t…it could be my mortality…or even that fact that I care more about fiber than at any other point in my life…the knowing what to expect most of my life frankly never really mattered….and now there is this need to find where it all started..sure this could quickly turn into the chicken or the egg dialog and it might never have an answer of any substance…and then again…if I ever find out where it started…might just ruin where it’s going…

I once knew a prostitute…who said she was Carol Channing’s sister “Wendy…now Wendy was from Zacatecas Mexico…originally and yes….she did resemble Carol…until she said anything…and once she spoke…it was clear she shared nothing with Carol other than maybe mitochondrial  eve DNA…even though it was not convincing…someone somewhere is telling…someone somewhere they slept with Carol Channing’s sister…Wendy…now that’s a place to start…kind of like John Anderson…. “it all started at a bar in Mexico, I was sitting with Carol Channing’s sister…Wendy…we negotiated a little..she liked me…I liked her….and before you know it”

So….I’d like you take a few moments…think about where something big started in your life….once you’ve identified the event…what’s it look like leading up to it….how did you want it to work out – VS – how it did work out….what did you want to happen after the event -VS – what really happened after the event…you know….were there blood tests…or paternity tests…did you run away…have to meet a bunch of people…say yes a great deal more than you wanted…or did you just nod your head a whole bunch….in either direction…look up alot…cross your arms or realized how little you cared for all of that stuff you once said was valuable as you were sneaking onto the cargo plane to Albania…now once you’ve been here…established some memorable event….my next challenge is…..

Can you make the  lyrics to a country western song from your event…..

here goes mine…:

It was  New Year’s  Eve, 1973,
El Toro Lounge, Santa Fe and I was
with my new friends from New York State 
 
She was a dark haired beauty, laughing at my newspaper hat
with a picture of Katharine Ross taped
right there on the front
I was rolling a Bugler cigarette thinking about paper clips, why dogs bark so much
when
she handed me a napkin with a key in it and her addressed printed beautifully in red ink
Chorus
she never said her husband was a murderer
she never said he was going to be released so soon
she never said I had to worry  much 
just as long as I was gone by next Tuesday at noon

so it all started….right….the rest of the story later….maybe…

“If I talk about something I either talk about it or I DO it… the minute I talk about it it’s lost all it’s drive and all it’s fun.” – Carol Channing

441. November 21st…Half way there….more or less…

Thoughts from the "Tinman"

“Hands in” 2010

“A man’s work is nothing but this slow trek to rediscover, through the detours of art, those two or three great and simple images in whose presence his heart first opened.” – Albert Camus

when it all takes place….sort of a moment of waiting for it all to gel and make things a certainty…I must say…that was the myth…the place somehow being set there to wait…worked until it no longer did….maybe it was the independence of soul and spirit or perhaps it has been the ability to crawl from the circle drawn in the sand….I do not know….yet there is a time I do know…that a light brightens…sometimes even comes on….illuminates it all for seconds…days…weeks…maybe the rest of the life time….

I recently turned 54 years old…and decided I have come to the half way point of my life….half way to 108….now that sounds just fine….as another 54 years with what I know now might just be enough time to roll the ball perfectly…round…smooth all of the edges…to a soft fabric feel…not question anything as long as it is still part of everything I do….and if I am wrong….and there are not 54 years left in my life…I’ll still roll the ball round…smooth like a river rock…work for the soft edges…and then maybe the word…”Busy”…becomes me new mantra….

when I’ve thought of busy…I’ve always thought of frantic…too much to do…with not enough time to do it in…yet defined Busy means: “not at leisure; otherwise engaged” and, “Ornate, Disparate“….the word Disparate means: “Utterly different or distinct in kind“…

so I’d have to say….”Busy” is probably one of the perfect words for the rest of my life…

as now I feel most of the smoke has cleared…and what lies ahead…is really a series of putting it all where I want to put it…that being said…there comes an enormous responsibility with that…being….”otherwise engaged“…which also means….showing up….and within that showing up….the rules are simplistic…minimal and…very doable….no unnecessary Bullshit…and keep doing what feels good….pretty easy….right???…..

I believe in recipes….recipes are rules….made up or borrowed….that can be changed in any way that seems reasonable…or not…and I’ve found the better I know the recipe….the more likely any changes become more effective and real…I can always go back to the original or over the top with something new….yet either way there is something that is a poem of sorts I can say out loud…one I know well enough to recite by memory….one that will return me to a place I can stretch my arms out…full…something familiar….

“I try not to worry about things I can’t do anything about.” – Christopher Walken