Monthly Archives: July 2011

I wouldn’t trade them.

To my children. If it suits you, to you as well.

There’s a lot of attention being given to bullies and bullying these days. I’m not going to throw my hat into that particular ring (right now) but I do want to say this: I am thankful for the bullies from my childhood. The ones that pushed and ridiculed, punched and spat. You formed me and my determination today. Without you and our intimate relationship, I would not be the unbelievable success that you see before you. Thank you for name calling and questioning both my sexuality and my manliness. You made me examine myself deeply, spiritually. You helped me cherish my uniqueness.

If you are suffering under a bully, no matter what your age and station in life, rejoice! Part of my deciding to pursue my current dream was because of working beneath a hateful, spiteful man. God Bless Him.

There was a teacher who should have known better. He once pointed me out in front of the entire gym class as a ‘weak chinned Nancy’. He postulated that I would end up a ‘milquetoast homo’ living in San Fransisco. (Provide your own lisp here.) In the words of the poet: time is revenge.

Bullies grow weak. Through the miracle of Facebook one might find an old nemesis living alone – devoid of loved ones, bitter and remorseful. One might even strike up a conversation and inspire the old crusted enemy to look at the world with brighter eyes. There’s a story for another time.

I thank you, bullies of my past. This glorious week I’m flying to Vancouver to trade stories and inspiration with fellow artists. I’ll tell them about you.

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Filed under Musings, Public Diary

Loss, Part One

See, she used to get these headaches. Really bad ones. Sometimes they would immobilize her for hours, and she was not a woman who liked to just sit, or lie around.

She loved tennis, both playing and watching. She loved to just walk and look at nature, or great architecture. She had a love of old, southern things. So the headaches used to depress her when they came.

They were caused by stress … or perhaps they were the leftover symptoms of a disease she had in her late teens. The disease caused her to lose some of her lady parts, so she never bore children of her own. She never was clear on why the headaches came, but come they did.

She took these pills. Darvon. They didn’t chase the headaches away, but they made them bearable (I guess). She could take long naps and avoid dealing with the pain. I think that later on the Darvon didn’t help so much and she got some things that were stronger.

The stress came from unhappy circumstances. Her second marriage was failing, the man she had loved was revealing himself to be nothing more than a petty, grasping, greedy charlatan. She mentioned to me on more than one occasion that she really wanted out, but didn’t want the stigma. Still, I think she was making plans.

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Filed under Public Diary

Ramblings of an Aging Magician

A good friend told me that my video diaries need to be more dramatic if my intention is to bring more people to the site. I’m still not certain that that is my goal. I’ve been recording many, but not publishing them.

Does anyone really read these? Am I interesting enough that you want to read what I say?

There was a publication called “Boy’s Life” that I used to get when I was a boy scout. The only thing I really remember about it was the fiction section. I read and re-read those stories, and memorized them. The rest of the mag I don’t remember … I know there were ‘boy scout’ comics (PeeWee something?) and joke sections.

There was a story about two boys trapped in a bathyscaph deep under water. Communication was cut off and water was seeping in. They knew they were going to drown, and there was no hope. Dark. Another was the diary form of a thief who was going to have his hand amputated for stealing. It was his second conviction. I still dream about that one.

I saw a movie this weekend that cast Zach Galifianakis in a dramatic, serious role. He should explore that more.

How long does my show stick with you, and why? Which parts do you remember … what was important?

Respond if you read this far. Even if it’s just one word. This has been an exercise to get my hands writing again. They have been to idle.

Love you.

Hannibal

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Filed under Blither Blather