ABSINTHE MAKES THE HEART GROW FONDER

What is there to do when Yuletides are simply dreams and no chestnuts roasted await you? I am not home this Christmas. I'm three thousand miles away sitting in the desert looking for a star to follow.

Would that I could see my family's faces, those faces that are reflections of my own-- so similar, so familiar. Would that I could heal my father faster. Would that I could console my mother in person. Brothers and sisters, we'd exchange gifts, then gather around a meal, first in prayer, then in joy. The air outside would be sharp and cold. Snow, like the feathers of angels, would fill the ground. The house would be warm with heat and light.

Instead I wander these sands of cinematic mirage, this place of gilded temptresses, this land that buys your hopes for pennies on the dollar and sells them reconfigured and unrecognizable. The years here have baptized me in fire. I am reborn same as before and wholly new.

I've carved a small place in the dunes where I find solace. In my apartment by the oasis, I sit in the solitude of prophets and artists and sip the drink of madness, the verte liquor that worms through the wood of the iconoclastic brain and lights the fire in the soul of creation.

Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder.

Daughters of the Green Lady, lovers of artists and poets, actors and musicians, all manner of thieves and outcasts-- for this night they are my Yuletide companions. They will see me through to the dawn when we give thanks for the birth of the Prince of Peace. They will see me through the longing for home.

STAY TUNED: COMING SOON

I've been remiss in posting the last few days. There is much to talk about: Palin vs. Biden, Obama vs. McCain II, more on the Financial Apocalypse, etc. Fortunately, I've been caught in a whirlwind of positive personal change which has taken up most of my time here in Syren Sea. However, that change has left me little time to post-- but it has not stopped my observations, incantations, pronouncements or prophecies.

The desert winds are blowing strongly and they carry within their roar the whispers of truth. I have much to tell you of what they say.

I will post on all these issues and many more very soon. Until then...

Stay tuned.

ANIMALS

I saw them verywhere in the city the past two days. The animals. Some were dead on the road, some were slinking across streets beneath cars in the night. I live in a city, a real, live, teeming city full of concrete and buses and places of pleasure, yet there were wild animals at every turn.

Hawks dived down towards windows, possums lay dead in the road, skunks sprayed the night, feral cats prowled like panthers and the crows were flying in packs.

They were out and they were everywhere and something deep in my soul tells me that it's a sign of something and of something that's not quite right. Don't ask me what it is because I don't know yet. I just feel it inside.

We live in interesting times, to paraphrase the Chinese expression. Things have been turned on their head in the world and people around me seem content to lose themselves in some fantasy moment of bliss, telling themselves that there is some magic or magic man that will make it right. And they keep on living as they have, spending and playing as if the illusion were not an illusion and the good times had no price.

The angels have started to fall and the ground beneath us is starting to rumble. That sounds crazy, but I believe it. Maybe I'm just tired. Maybe I'm just not in a good mood. Maybe this whole thing will pass...

But there's the animals, untamed, unleashed. Nature has gone wild. Just before I sat at my desk to write this, I saw a brutal sight. I watched a crow swoop down and kill a sparrow. Like an arrow he flew into his prey, bit into the sparrow's flesh, feathers floated around him like lost souls.

As I turned from the scene, a possum crawled out from a sewer. His mouth was bloody from the remains of what he'd just eaten.

I need to talk to my little Cristo.

THE NOTE

Someone had tried to kill me and I had a pretty good idea who it was. I could still smell the blood on me and I wasn’t going to let it happen again.

It wasn’t the end and it wasn’t the beginning. It was only that moment where you know that the way has revealed itself and the key was to figure out how to make it play out like you wanted. It was pretty simple, I figured. Things had to be shed quickly and humbly. It was the only way I would ever be able to settle the score and get away for good.

I had seen the answer in my dreams. Waves of numbers flowing as a river on curves of a woman’s flesh. Her robes had slipped away in the twilight and the symbols were tattooed upon her. Numbers don’t lie, but sometimes their solutions transcend the mathematics. I knew what had to be done.

Surrender and attack. Walk away from it all, like from a burning wreck on an empty road, and head into the night. Surrender the past, but not the fight. Never surrender the fight.

So I worked fast. I grabbed what mattered most: family photos, pictures of Cristo, my writing, my sketches and my guitar. Done. I left that apartment forever. I got into my new car and I told myself that I would play it better this time, that I was beginning to understand, that I would win.

All I left at my place was a simple message:

“Jack the Knave. That’s your name, right? I know you’re gunning for me. You work for the Beast of Seven and Ten, Cappo di tutti cappi, pez gordo, The Man. He gives you dominion. Yeah, I found you out and you don’t like it. I saw what you’re all about behind the smiles and sweet words and I called you out. Now you want me gone.

What I love, you try to kill. My faith you try to destroy. You took my child, you took my ride and you took my pride. You’ve shut me out so far, but the game's not over yet. There's still a few innings left.

And just remember, I have this against you: I’ve got your numbers. I know their meaning. When I roll the dice, I won’t lose, you will. The Angels of Probability ride with me.

I’ll see you at the tables, Jack. I’ll have a pocketful of gold and faith and fortune at my side.”

I didn’t have a clue about the numbers yet, but I knew the bluff would hold him for awhile. I also prayed a good long time. May God grant that the Angels of Probability be with me. Let the games begin.

A LADY JOKER AND THE QUEEN OF DIAMONDS

My little run in with Jack Knave's crowd had given me the creeps. I parked my car out in front of the casino and went in for a good, stiff drink. Sambuca was the choice of the evening.

I sat down at a Pai Gow poker table. There was an old dealer there who said his name was Qian and that he came from Hong Kong. He was a long way from home. He almost seemed out of place at the table. He was so serene and smiling, he looked more like he belonged in a monastery. There was no one else at the table, which suited me just fine. We played a few hands and mostly it was a push-- a draw between me and the house.

Anyway, I began to drink more and we began to talk. He was affable. I told him about my night and the run-in with Jack Knave and his gang. He told me about the I Ching. I knew of it. I asked if it could help me with my luck. He looked around conspiratorially, then pulled three strange coins from his pocket. He continued to deal the cards in the empty casino and while I looked and the hand I'd been dealt he would shake the coins again and again and throw them on the table.

Finally, he stopped and told me:

"The I Ching tells of change. Change is the nature of all. The number has come to you. Do you believe in numbers, my friend?"

I smiled, "I live for them."

"Your number is 36. "The Darkening of the Light." The ancient writing says that `He enters the left belly of the darkness. He sees the true nature and understands that which is obtainable and that which must be avoided.' Learn from this, friend. The I Ching tells your destiny. Change is upon you—perhaps, sooner than you think."

Out of the ether two women appeared and joined me at the table, flanking me on each side. They were pretty and they were friendly and I could do with being around both right at that moment.

Qian smiled at me and never said another word to me the rest of the night.

With women for me attraction has always been about the unconscious, the transcendent spirit that flows through everything. It's a vibe and when I tap into that vibe the corporeal feminine manifests itself. Now here they were, materialized from the currents in the air.

The cool, sharp one was called "Diamante." She was dressed conservative and classy. Her hair was short and slicked back. The fiery, laughing one was called "Fortuna." She had her hair dyed some wild color and her clothing was a little outlandish.

Fortuna spoke first.

"There must be some kind of way out of here," she said.

"Said a joker to the thief," I answered dryly.

"You know the day destroys the night," said Diamant.

"And night divides the day," I answered her, “You ladies go around quoting rock lyrics to every guy you meet?

They looked at each other and smiled, then Diamant said, "He's the one."

We all became friends fast and fast friends. The alcohol helped with that. Diamant carried herself with an aristocratic hauteur. She had sharp insight and a sharp wit. It was all about reason and calculation and she played cards that way. Fortuna was loud and playful. She told joked constantly and took risks with cards. They were quite a team. I wasn’t sure if they were genuine or trying to roll me.

I started to win a lot of money. I decided to play the king of hearts and suggested we go somewhere else to spend it and have some fun. They liked that idea.

Three-sheets to the wind we stepped out into the thick night air to start an adventure. We found one, but it was a little different than we expected.

Then I saw it. My truck was on fire.

Now you can look at anything in a positive or negative light. Normally, my car being on fire would be something purely negative, but flanked by a lady joker and a would-be queen of diamonds as I watched the flames rise into the night, I thought of mythology: The Phoenix. From the ashes of my car something dangerous and new was about to arise in my life, something which would lead to my destiny and my fortune.

That's what I kept telling myself anyway.

"Looks like we’ll have to walk," said Fortuna.

“Yeah,” I answered, “A joker, the Queen of Diamonds and the King of Hearts. We could start a new religion or create our own revolution.”

Obviously, we had had a bit to drink.

But then that the night got really interesting.

JACK KNAVE - MAN OF THE PEOPLE... SO HE SAYS

If you wanna know where all this madness in Syren Sea began for me, how I got to where I am, then we have to go back a little bit. I need to tell you about a charismatic slickster called Jack Knave who runs with a guy known as The Beast of Seven and Ten. Jack is a self-styled revolutionary with a lot of starry-eyed followers who'd kill their firstborn for him. The Beast of Seven and Ten… well, let’s just say he has more power than you could imagine and lives in the shadows.

It was about a year ago. I was laying languidly in my apartment. It was hotter than fresh-made sin outside. Summer was coming. I could feel it. I stayed inside until the night cooled the air, then I went out in search of answers to questions that kept whispering to me from my soul.

It might be a sea-sized oasis, but Syren Sea is still a desert city. And the desert is a strange creature. It's a alive; trust me. It's no different than a cobra or a bird. It's a being. It breathes and it thinks and it looks at we little humans as strange germs crawling around on its skin. If you weren’t born in a desert, you never really get used to it what it's like living in one unless you're three feet long to the tail and have green skin and scales-- even then it burns your rear. It's the way that oven heat blasts you, knocks you in the face like a hard slap, the way your eyes sting from the dust and your tongue gets dry.

So when it finally cooled down, I went out looking for the Angels of Probability. They were the only ones who’d have the answers. They’re my guardians; they point to the directions available and the options therein. And there was only one place to find them. The Syren Sea Racetrack.

The old racetrack had seen better days. They tried to spruce things up there by adding a casino next to it a few years ago. They could get away with that because part of it was on Tribal grounds, so you saw a lot of people running around who were supposed to be Indian, only they didn’t look too Indian to me.

That night I didn’t play the ponies. I knew that my answers would be found in the sacred calculations hidden in a deck of cards.

As I was driving up, I saw a crowd gathered near the casino. Some guy was on a soap box giving a speech. I would learn that his name was Jack Knave. I pulled my old truck over by the crowd and got out to see what was going on.

Jack was your quintessential modern-day pretty boy, the kind of smooth operator that all the girls fall for and all the boys follow like a messiah. To me he just looked like a prancing, preening little con man—not that I had anything against the guy.

Jack always dressed flashy, sometimes outrageously so. When I saw that day him he was wearing some kind of a cross between a preacher's robes and rock-and-roller's duster.

He was making one of his great speeches for the people. Something about revolution and democracy and rights of man. He was selling utopia and everyone was buying. His silky, Southern pronunciations apparently transfixed the crowd. I guess they thought he was a regular Thomas Paine—not that he had an ounce of ol' Tom's integrity.

I listened and analyzed, but I didn't hear anything real in his words other than sounds.

When his speech was finished, his followers applauded wildly. I stood silent.

He made his way through the crowd and he caught sight of me. I wasn’t reacting like his zombie followers. Charmers don’t like that. Most charmers want everyone to fall for them, and when you don't, their mask comes off and their inner beast shows.

"You ready to join, brother?" he asked me.

"Not ready to join and I'm not your brother," I answered.

He flashed a wan smile. "Well, we're all brothers. Why don't you take some of my literature and think on it? We have an office right here by the casino. Go on in. We'll see if we can't get you to come around. Our movement is about bringing a form of government that offers a fresh political rebirth to each and every one of us. What I speak about is bigger than just me. We can make a difference through what we teach and try. We can have a form of government that gives us all liberty again-- all of us together through this movement."

"No thanks, pal. I like thinking for myself. I'll pass," I answered.

I guess no one had talked to His Holiness like that before. His minions were aghast and began to gather around. I had to be on guard. It wasn't that I thought I couldn't handle his gang of prep school followers one-on-one, but the crazy look in their eyes and their numbers made me play it cool and careful. These people were plain creepy.

I started back toward my car, but me being me, I couldn't resist telling him and his zombie disciples what-for.

"I don't like being crowded, kids. And I don't like people trying to put the squeeze on me, but let me just tell you this, something a wise man wrote a couple of centuries ago: `Liberty is not in any form of government, it's in the heart of free man. He carries it with him everywhere.' And this free man is going to go his own way. Thanks. Now, twenty-three skiddoo, teenyboppers. I need to get to my car."

"This your car, huh?" One of the kiddies asked.

"What's it to ya?" I answered.

"You'll see... what it is to you," Jack answered cryptically and smiled.

I gave him a long, cold look and got back to my car. He and his cult followers departed for their headquarters. I drove the next few blocks to the casino. I needed to find those Angels. It wouldn't take long.

LEADERS, SEEKERS AND SERVANTS

"The people that once bestowed commands, consulships, legions, and all else, now concerns itself no more, and longs eagerly for just two things - bread and circuses!"

-- Juvenal, The Satires

So I am told that we are to be happy with the faddishness and hysteria which surrounds our current election. "The youth are involved!" scream euphorically the grayed longhairs (those that still have hair), blissed-out on Aquarius Age reminiscences they've passed on to their children, tinged ever so slightly with the flashbacks of acid trips past. Their children quiver and speak in tongues, screaming and chanting their mantras of platitudes while they wait with baited breath for messianic deliverance.

Forgive me, but as I sit here by the Syren Sea, things look just a little different to me. Living alone here gives one perspective. You see, the sea is unmatched in its beauty, with emerald and azure waves, but underneath, the alkaline builds and the life that it contains within it is slowly poisoned away.

Right now, a few yards off, I see Old William, his white hair blowing in the wind, turning somersaults by the shore. The old geezer still moves as if it were 40 years ago, God bless him. There are piles of dead fish on the ground around him, yet he spins and spins. I can hear him shouting that the sea looks wonderful and he can't wait to take his boat out into the water and catch something fresh.

And so Old William is happy. And he dances and twirls all the day long. And his son comes running behind him laughing and singing of fish to be caught and feasts to be.

Well, I just sit here, guitar in hand, strumming a tune no one can hear and saying to myself, "And so it is goes in our great nation."

It is wonderful when citizens become involved with the affairs of state, and there is a fervor for change, but change must come from within us. Each member of a democracy must actively challenge himself or herself to find the answers needed. We cannot look for messiahs to lead us. Emancipation from others comes at a price. Those who come offering to be our protector always leave us the slavery of tyranny as their gift.

We must save ourselves.

Yet this is precisely what we no longer seem capable of doing in America. We distrust each other and worship the wealthy, the anointed, the charming. Rather than answer questions for ourselves, we look for others to solve them for us. The task of the citizen in a democracy is to choose the right people to serve them, not to lead them.

A servant of the people follows the dictates of those by whom they are chosen. We the people offer the solutions and demand that those who take political office enact those solutions as we see fit. Politicians are not there to show us a new way but to follow the way that we show them.

Politicians are the face of the state, while the people are the soul. The beauty of a face is transient, the soul eternal. The face should reflect the soul; the soul should not mimic the face. In order for the spirit of the state to manifest itself, citizens must think independently and not be swayed by glitter and glamour. Sweet words and bright lights are the tools of darkness, seduction and tyranny.

It is not easy to find answers for ourselves, nor is it easy not to be tempted by pundits, false prophets and thieves, but always remember what Thomas Paine said:

"Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly: it is dearness only that gives every thing its value."

SYREN SEA

SYREN SEA

You wind down out of the desert just outside Joshua Tree with the taste of dry air and dust in your mouth and the scent of orange blossoms in your head. You drive past the wind-whipped sand and the rows of date trees straight out of The Thousand and One Nights and find yourself along a barren highway stretch where the only things you see are fenced-in tracts of empty land. Your mind whirls chromesthesially from the shouting of the desert flower and you swear you hallucinate when to the side you see a vast ocean and smell the salt in the air. The vision is too immense for a mirage—Ocean water stretching for miles here amid the desert. As you drive further you come upon a sign that beckons you to follow a cosmic road:

“Welcome to the Syren Sea”

Syren Sea, California, is an oasis that rises wicked and inscrutable from the farthest corner of a near-endless desert. The desert rolls effortlessly, until it tumbles and falls, abrupt and heedless, into an emerald-green ocean. The ocean breeze wraps her inhabitants in a veil of lethargic bliss that lends itself best to idle pleasure and shameless indulgence. Though the climate is parched, the city is watered copiously and blooms abundant with all manner of flora and fauna. The palm trees sway in the hot breezes and the animals mate with abandon. There are ripe fruits and there is rich soil.

The guardians of Syren Sea are careful to maintain her image. They invest in her growth so that she devours more and more of the sand which surrounds her—without ever gaining a pound. Movies and gambling are her great loves. There are plenty of strip clubs, but nary a church. You feel like you need a forklift here just to send up a prayer.

When the sun sets and nighttime reveals its mystery, the lights of the city are unleashed like a plague of phosphorescent locusts and the rattle and ring of slot machines burst forth in a sinister buzz.

This is the draw, the excitement of this place. People come. They never stop coming. They come with portfolios of dreams that they invest in the dust and wind.

So it was that I fell into this place many years ago when I left New York. Back then, my soul was filled with artistry and my eyes hungered for pleasure. Now the world has emptied both of their wonder. I freeze in the hot sun wondering where the time went.

This is where we shall begin. Sit with me awhile. We've got stuff to talk about.

QUADRATIC INVOCATION

QUADRATIC INVOCATION

Beloved, I’ve tried to write this many times. Even now I can barely think of how to start or where to go, save for the fact that now I’ve lived these stories fully and completely. I have become a character that I created and my stories have become fact in the strange way that things like that happen in life.

I will keep this as a journal, a blog, for you, beloved, because you understand and because were there. You saw what it was all about, what it is: The political sorcerers leading mystery cults, the alchemist businessmen sleeping on beds of silver and gold, greed and delusion, the journalistic magi casting spells of falsehood with image and world. They run this place. We know it. And we know it's bull, but everyone still pretends it's fine and lines up at the well of madness for a drink 'cause they say they like the flavor. I don't care what they say. We have to do something. If we are silent to insanity, we give it credence.

We must find the discriminant to discover its roots, rational or irrational, real or imaginary. No magician can alter the mathematical truth of life itself. Only God has that power.

I have nothing to hold me back now, baby. I have nothing to lose. When their lunacy killed, Cristo, my feline son, my life was altered forever. Some people find it ridiculous that his death hurt me that deeply. I don't care. The natives of this land, whose blood flows through me, say the Great Spirit above gives us each an animal totem who speaks to our souls. That was Cristo-- but he was more than that. He was the son of my heart. So, now, I will try to put away childish things and leave my creations as an inheritance for his soul. And when he comes to me now, little Cristo, talking in my dreams, and on the winds of the night when I call to him upon the stars, I will have something of value to give him. Our souls travel together, as they always have and always will.

And your soul is with me too, beloved. Your soul is my soul. Forget the poetry and philosophy and all that. Nobody seems to care about it anymore, I know. Just remember, as flesh in flesh we were one, so are we now, one in spirit always.

So sing in me, Daughter of Truth and Beauty, that my words may echo through spirits and thoughts. For all we have is faith, hope and love, and love is the greatest of all.

But you know me, baby, I will wield that love like a sword.

Let us slit the veil now and show them the world: