Typing? July 16, 2022 Brand Art Galleries

This is an experiment.  I attended the opening reception for "GenERAtions" at the Brand Galleries in Glendale, California  I sat for about two hours and chatted with folks and thus only got about two pages typed.  Writing 'from the hip' means, to me.. just narrating with no censor what is going on around me.  My personal take on what I see is spontaneous and honest.  We'll see how it looks.  One may be able to enlarge this.

This is page two.

I believe that using a manual typewriter can enhance a writer's creativity.   When we type on a keyboard and put messages up or send emails or worst of all, send texts or tweets, we are sending out immediate impressions that are often misunderstood.  When typing on a manual typewriter, the effort is different, the brain works differently and the thought process is different.  That said, these two pages came spontaneously, perhaps denying my entire premise?

michael sheehan 

early July 17, 2022

We Come and Go

 Almost May..  4/28/22

 I have a friend who is a multi-talented person. They are world traveled, educated, multilingual, cynical and vulnerable and highly artistic and skilled. And... egotistical.  Big ego.

But.. to succeed in most things, ego must propel us to next steps.  At least in the West.

My friend lost their friend to suicide the other day. The Suicide was, evidently, well balanced, talented, family oriented and a good friend.  My friend, has felt the blow and, I, through, them, feel the blow as well.  

We can't much comfort those left behind by suicide.  The loss is deep. The questions never to be answered.  

I learned today of the death of a woman who was 103. How can we be sad for that loss?  A long life of service to the community was hers.  The opportunity for those who met her to embrace her knowledge and know  that we have emerged better for the contact is a gift.  We pass away. Spent.

But.. when a 'healthy' person steps into the next world with no explanation, our own egos are diminished a bit because we thought we knew them and loved them and understood them. 

Comforting those left behind really cannot much happen because the loss becomes personal and, somehow, all about us.  The Suicide may have given all sorts of clues, but we can't grasp them because we are so self involved.  

This is not an attempt to explain or fix this shock. This is just to say that as we advance through our lives, we each experience life in an individual way. We may never really know anyone else.. because of our own ego? Or? Because the 'Other' chooses not to share for any of a thousand reasons.

My friend's friend walked out of their home, drove to a remote but accessible spot to die. Perhaps to not leave a mess: a last consideration. No note. No clue. No apparent reason.  Gone. 

Is ego the buggaboo that, at once, drives us to succeed (or fail?) and in the end must be in charge?

Am I listening? 

April 28, 2022 

Glendale, California

The Power of The NO!

 Recently, I have had to deal with NO!

 

"NO" of course comes in many packages:

 

A friend dies  "Oh No..."

 

A child reaches for a forbidden thing "NO!  Hot!"

 

The dog makes a mess on the floor.  "NO! Bad Dog!" 

 

Are you happy? "no.."

Are you unhappy? "--- No..."

Eat your spinach.. "NO!  (ow)" 

Does this hurt? "no"

DOES THIS HURT?? "...  ow... n o o  o..."

Joseph Campbell discusses in the Hero's Journey that The Hero  may come to a Gate Keeper now and again who will challenge the Hero and try to prevent him from continuing his quest: To find and secure the 'boons.'  Conflict is essential to every good story, no?

The gatekeeper represents a "NO" that makes us stop for a moment and then find a way around or over or under or through the Gate.. unless we want to fail and end the quest.  

(Or see the foolishness of it? )

Sometimes the "No" is a boon in and of itself. How many times have we been stopped at a Red Light (no, don't proceed) as a fire truck comes screaming through right in front of us? Or,  have we missed the last seat on a doomed airplane .. No Room...  keeping us alive? 

Those made up instances are simple ideas to sort of mitigate the sting of a rebuke or a rejection or some other No that may be waiting for us unawares.

The on line dictionary definitions? 

https://www.google.com/search?client=firefox-b-1-d&q=no+definition

(I wonder why that isn't a direct link?  A "NO?" 

That link, of course, is a cop out, no?

We have so many ways to say No.  In polite society, we may apologize and say, "Sorry... no.." (In the voice of Ken Jennings hosting Jeopardy!?)

Tone in punctuation and in tone of voice and attitude make a world of difference when simply declining  an offer or a request.  Of course, in polite society, we attempt to become deferential to soften the denial. Slamming the door of opportunity in one's face would be the opposite of that, no? 

For dramatic effect the door slam can be useful. The broad hand of a LeBron James denying an opponent a basket a sort of a door slam. 

Rejected!!!

On Jeopardy, when a contestant supplies the wrong  response to a clue, the host's tone is conciliatory. "Sorry. No"  Not "NO you stupid moron!!" 

As an actor, I have faced  No! a thousand times.  Rejection is a thing. 

Rejection is a thing that  one must face with the hope that something will change and something good will come of the rejection.  

But, if the rejection is phrased to cut and wound the supplicant, that No is on the Gate Keeper. To deliberately reject someone, with prejudice, that denial may be intentionally just mean.  It's a good plot point for a melodrama, but in our simple lives, to preserve some dignity in the situation, kind people take a moment and with or without or a reason.. must remember to say, "Sorry. No..

 Or? Even "No...  thank you." 

No?

michaelsheehan

 

PROFESSIONAL HELP

This note and the previous one are to take some difficult stuff and make a record of it. Only one friend has expressed an interest and she may read  this.. She's aware of my birthday and declares that Taurus men are possessive with their women.  I never possessed this woman, though years ago she asked is she was 'my girl..' Euphemism..

It was the surprise that got me all upset.  Bottom line, is that we tell our friends stuff that maybe will change our relationship in a way that is not hurtful.. and may preserve the friendship, even if it changes. That happened like a slap in the face to me and my writing about it and getting feedback from one writer friend is helpful.  I want the woman who surprised me with news of 'being with' a man for ten months and never mentioned it to just tell me why? What happened? I had no social or 'mate' type of connection with her. We would report back and forth once or twice a week on the phone. The Plague has had her not invite me to her home and so.. a couple of meals over time and life was 'normal' except that she's in a relationship with this guy. Am I unable to handle the truth??  I do try to treat her like a special friend with gifts and stuff from time to time..  That's not staking a claim.

My criticism of her way of doing or not doing something is a cruel thing to report. But.. it's the truth.  I've walked on eggs for years just because the friendship was more important than causing her to be angry, which was not hard to do if I wasn't careful. Why stick with a connection like this? Well you may ask. Because I have a genuine respect and affection for her and want to be supportive and have been. Thinking she was grateful was enough, though he feeling of gratitude never realy was felt. End of story.

In my attempt to fix things.. because this is all on me, of course for having a very emotional reaction to her "I don't know how you'll take this.. but..." I'm still smarting, but she is just about my only connection on a regular basis to the outside world. Oh poor me. 

So. I wrote this to her:

... I understand that you did not mean to hurt my feelings.. I am pretty sure. But.. I've been feeling left out and disrespected for a long time as far as we are concerned: to matter less and less to you and it makes sense because you are in love with someone who makes you happy.. Your terse responses or no responses are frustrating, but that's because you have little to share with me.  If you kept your lover a secret from your kids and other friends, which I really doubt.. that would be one thing. I just felt slapped in the face.

So.. this little gift I have for you  may or may not happen.  Frankly, I just want to find out why you'd carry on a love affair and not tell me for ten months?

I've never wanted to hold you back and you gave me fair warning years ago. 

What I'd have done.. after maybe the first hint that some gal was becoming a regular thing for me or we'd slept  together.. and it was maybe 'going somewhere'.. I hope that I would just see you in person and care about your feelings.. just in case you had any feelings regarding my happiness.. and it would have only colored the connection as an early warning with a discussion,.. maybe. But, that's all speculation and just me ..I am still sort of reeling and feeling sorry for myself and like a fucking fool.

You are forgiven. You are my friend. I am shocked and a bit jealous and feel pretty stupid.. But, I'm naive like that and I know you well enough that even this note may be dismissed as a nuisance. 

I sincerely hope not.

The end of August, 2021 You need Professional Help!

August 31, 2021

 The dog days of summer.. Easy times. But, when a person you consider a close friend and has been a friend for over fifteen years calls and says,"I don't know how you are going to take this.." and tells of a love affair that has gone on for almost a year.. well, ten months, I must be wrong to feel insulted and betrayed, not because I hold any sway at all over my friend's life, but true friends generally share good news.
. She mostly dismisses my suggestions and is hard pressed to share much of anything beside a daily report and then my report and then her report. Danger, Will Robinson? Red flag?  To a less naive guy, probably.

To feel dismissed is probably on the dismissee and the dismisser really has no feeling about being dismissive because it's not their affair to look out for the feelings of someone who has .. he thought.. me.. was being loyal and helpful and kind and all of that, as a good friend behaves.

I've vented on FB and the odd thing was that in my dismay and hurt feelings .. I put up one of those meme things with white text and black back ground 

 "I know a woman who has never made an apology and never said thank you from her heart. How about that?"

Immediately, I get the email telling me that I need professional help. In my inimitable way, I agree. I need a plumber and other professionals to do the stuff that I seem uable to do myself.  The sad thing is that instead of offering any help or wanting to make me feel better.. I get another dismissal.  Some folks are like that :Black and  White.  I've been accused of that and hope it ain't true.. But hiring a 'professional helper' for a situation that could have easily just been discussed about the second month that she was having so much fun; opting to share it with her other friends (I'm pretty sure..)  and not me.. it felt like a deliberate slight and 'I don't know how you are going to take this" as an introduction to this surprise was just really a friggin' surprise.

 The business of venting in public is not all that cool.  How many of her friends know that she's never apologized because she is never wrong and says the words 'thank you' clearly, but with nary a hint of really being grateful might be that, I, in my feeling dismissed wonder why sharing good news.. she found someone to be with.. would not be something to share right off the bat?  Am I jealous, probably. But, the air kisses at parting after a dinner or lunch and exchanging reports was probably a red flag, too.

We all have stuff that is on a need to know basis. Sometimes too much information can be.. well.. too much information.. My getting my tender feelings stomped on is on me, right? Feeling left out? This behavior expands to other stuff that I've deliberately swallowed and kowtowed to, just because being snapped at for asking 'is everything all right?' makes me a cautious pal. Red Flag?

I take responsibility for the stuff in my life. Do I deserve an apology for being deiberately kept in the dark vis a vis my friend's happiness?  Maybe because I had discussed her handling my estate if/when I die, as a friend..  made me think that I mattered in some extra ordinary way?  Could be.  so. 

Poor Me.. my feeings got crushed and she's in the sack or not. .none of MY business. with someone she likes and finds attractive and that's a blessing.  I said to her on the phone "I just want for you to be happy.. " and I meant it, but that did not dismiss my feeling as though she really had very little concern for my feelings and probably would have not said anything, except we have some business she helped me with and she didn't want the news of her big deal to come from another source.. 

 Maybe I'd have gotten an invitation to a wedding in the mail? Oh By the Way..  That's silly, of course, but I'm on a roll and still feel crappy and would do just about anything to fix it because it all comes back to my feeling damaged by another person's actions, whether they intended to hurt me or not.  The get help email was deliberately mean.  But, being terse and tacit is the way some folks survive. 

I maybe wrong all together. Later?  I'll be happy to be friends.  Am I glutton for punishment? Evidently??  It's just not very comfortable dealing with a person who thinks about things more than being spontaneous and when I've tried to make her laugh ..?  It's like pulling teeth. I'm about one for ten. 

We learn to cope and the fact is I've relied on her way too much. Too many eggs in one basket, right? So.. We get what we deserve.. the royal We? ..  I can forgive just about anything.. but I am entitled to my feelings and my feelings are in sad repair. 

We are all responsible for our own feelings even when they have been knocked silly by someone who was trusted.  They didn't ASK to be trusted, that's on the trustor.. is that a word.. the one doing the trusting?

All anyone has to say is 'I'm sorry that you had a bad fall.  Let me give you a hand. I didn't mean to push you. It was an accident." Or they can look down at the heap in the puddle of tears and say "Get professional help." 

Okay. .call me a plumber? ..

 

August August or just a bust?

 When a go to theatre guy  / cum college prof rises to the call of August with the Scottish play at hand, weird sisters in the times of non-binary and up the LGBTQ and such.. The following scene is set not upon a Heath or a Butter Brickle for those in the know of candy.. but in the phosphors. 

Barbara Garson's "MacBird" discussed a scenario after the death of a really good president with the Bard as a matrix... So, Professor Bill Svelmoe, bard of the Bend of South rises to the August occasion. 

 

With Bill's permission, I share his writing here and applaud the notion that the Theatre may be a resting place for what's to come this august August.   

 With thanks to Professor/actor/director/playwright/novelist and observer of the days of dogs to come.. His latest take on the state of our nation: Thanks Bill.

//   

It is August.

I (Bill) awakened this morning covered in sweat. The air was full of portents. Birnam Wood is on the move. Pentecostal prophets hee and haw throughout the land. On every lip one hears the cry, “August. August is here.”

 

Yes, my friends, August is indeed here. A month, we have been promised, like no other. A month, a day, an hour unlike any in our history. The Phoenix rises from the ashes. The head that had been wounded revives. The king retakes his throne.

 

Is it the return of Christ?!

For his followers, it is better than that. Like the sun rising, an orange shadow will be cast over the land.

It is the return of Donald.

It is a month that requires its own scribe. 

Its amanuensis(a literary helper?). 

Its chronicler. 

Its poet.

Barbara Tuchman, take up thy typewriter. Combine “The Guns of August” with “The March of Folly.” Perhaps “The Fools of August.” Set aside “The Distant Mirror.” A narcissist’s mirror must not be distant. Perhaps “The Mirror Next Door.”

Oh Shakespeare, take up thy pen. Record the moment. A new title that must never be mentioned on the stages of the world:

 

“Donald”

Act I, Scene 3.

Enter DONALD and GIULIANI, drenched in sweet and sour sauce and drifting makeup. With torches.

Donald: So foul and fair a day I have not seen.

Giuliani: How far is’t to Mar-a-Lago?

 

Three Pentecostal Prophets appear wearing nothing but Bibles.

The Prophets: The Weird Brothers, hand in hand,

Looking like a bad boy band,

Thus do speak, in tongues, in tongues,

Shandalabaya, and Bayadashanda, and thus spake Zarathustra,

The Donald will come and make it thunda.

Peace, the charm's wound up.

 

Giuliani: What are these

That look not like the inhabitants o’ th’ earth,

And yet are on the internet? – Live you, or are you aught

That man may question?

 

Donald: Speak, if you can: what are you?

 

First prophet: All hail, Donald, hail to thee Thane of Mar-a-Lago.

 

Second prophet: All hail, Donald, hail to thee Thane of Bedminster.

 

Third prophet: All hail, Donald, that shalt be King hereafter and Thane of White House.

 

Giuliani: Good sir, why do you start, and seem to fear

Things that do sound so fair?

In the name of truth, prophets, that mythical concept with which we are not familiar,

Are ye fantastical? My rotund partner

You greet with present grace, and great prediction

Of White House returning, and of hope of actually learning … something … for a change,

Oh he seems rapt withal as if believing his own lies.

If you can look into the seeds of time,

And say which grain will grow, and which will not,

Will the grain of his brain grow like a Thane

Or will it, like rain, run down the drain?

 

First prophet: The drain.

 

Second prophet: Yeah. The drain.

 

Third prophet: Best not get your hopes too high. We’re prophets, not magicians.

 

First prophet: Lesser than Obama, but greater than … than … somebody, somewhere, surely. Maybe Pierce.

 

Second prophet: Not so happy, yet much happier than the country will be. Forsooth. I would not want to be that nation that gets him again.

 

Third prophet: Thou shalt perhaps get another Supreme Court justice, though thou be a fool:

So all hail Donald, and Giuliani.

 

The PROPHETS turn to leave.

 

Donald: Stay, you internet prophets, tell me more:

I know I am Thane of Mar-a-Lago,

But how of White House? The Thane of White House lives

A real gentleman; a man of knowledge; a man of experience; a man who actually knows things about government; and to be king again

Stands not within the prospect of belief, although I have high hopes for Arizona

and for aid from the Thane of Pillows. Say from whence

You owe this strange intelligence, if intelligence I can call something for which there is literally zero precedent in the Constitution, or so they tell me, as reading it is really asking too much,

or why

Upon this blasted heath you stop our way

With such prophetic greeting? Speak, I charge you.

 

PROPHETS vanish.

////

Alas, that is as far as Shakespeare can take us. Perhaps Ivanka with bloody hands will reveal more.

Let us await the Ides of August my friends. As it has been foretold. “When the sun doth set upon the numberings of Arizona, then will the Son of Doofus be revealed. For when the bamboo splinters of the desert are carried throughout the land, he will retake his scepter. He will rule with a rod of pasta, and his rapier mind will once again be focused for up to three minutes at a time on topics of relevance. And the solutions to the problems of God’s nation will once again be just ‘two weeks’ away.” 

 

It will be an August for the history books … or at least, an August for the comic books …

 

HEARTS ON SLEEVES

 These are the days of new stuff.  Old stuff creates the foundation for the new stuff and it becomes old stuff and so on and so on.

Emotional ups and downs.. our hearts on our sleeves, have become fodder for the last year. Self denial and exploration and ideas warped by bad juju in the country and in the world.  No one is exempt. 

I've learned stuff from old stuff and am hoping for new stuff for additions to my life's foundations and for those I love. We all have that going on in one way or another if we are paying attention. Paying attention is good. Being distracted may disrail or change an intention.  Focus is, for me, difficult to maintain and it may be true for others.  If we are aware of this happening, and get back on track, the tea water won't boil dry, we'll have a cup and find reasons to keep on. 

I see lonely posts on FB by lonely others who will probably always be lonely.  This is not to dismiss them, but to say that I understand. So.. my heart is on my sleeve in that regard. 

Missed understandings and 'trigger' moments are more and more prevalent with 'e' communication. You may read a 'tone' .. even in this post.. that is contrary to my intention.  My intention is to just release some gratitude for having feelings dealt with and information exchanged today that matters. 

Most of us don't have 'real' discussions.  We report and fall back.. Report and pretend to listen. Not really listening. Men and Women express and 'listen' in very different ways.  To be truly 'heard' is a rarity, but now and then, with trusted others, we may feel heard or in turn truly listen. 

That said, I want for those old republican classmates and dear friends and pals and peripherals.. all  to know that if it was up to me, we'd all just forgive one another and to whatever degree we may be capable of, restack the order of our love and share it as best we can. 

It seems that politics with "P" has become religion with "R"  a big fat R.. and the strong emotional ties to whatever our Beliefs "B".. may be, they seem to override the Essence "E" of what true connections are about. or really ought to be: essential.

I'm at a crossroads.  "E" communication: email, texts and other stuff that I don't Enderstand are dissolving our communication.  What I call 'meme' mentality is dominating social media.  A parallel is being cut off in traffic ..probably by accident and the exchange of silent genstures and unheard shouts erupt. It's where we are.

Flip side?  I drive an old VW Bus.  It's a pal. Every time I head to the market or to do errands and drive the Bus, someone may smile or wave or ask to buy it. It's human communication.  Thanks to a mutual moment of feeling good. 

I'm becoming an advocate of letter writing.  I believe that if I hold a letter written by an old friend in Paris, a cursive note that slants up or down, on recycled notes about his music, that the connection is a warm and welcome one. No discussion of the weather. Maybe a thumbs up about the direction the USA is headed. Art. A paper missal (sort of)  from
5,637 miles away.  

Typing may become a 'thing' again.  It's not cursive, but it is personal.  That's what I miss: personal connections. It's too easy to whip off an email or send a text.  Of course, casual connecting is vital, to keep a ball in the air, but good communication .. to me .. must begin again to be more personal. 

Of course, there are folks who rub us the wrong way.. or vice versa.  It's inevitable. It's tough to be not liked or dismissed.  Dismissed is probably worse or maybe just to have become inconsequential? At least, with animosity, something is happening. Maybe we act out just to get a reaction when someone has ignored us. (That scene with Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction? Yikes!)

This is a note in a bottle that I've written mostly to myself.  I hope I never ignore me.  The Old republicans from high school will maybe understand and respond. Edit.. Edit... Edit..

An old right winger pal in my home town has giving me the silent treatment for a bad taste joke I played on him. If friendships matter, marriages, relationships? connections? If they matter, they can be fixed. I learned that lesson  from my most trusted friend. Before that day, I thought that an argument or dust up meant the end of the relationship. She showed me a better way.  

Love one another.

michael sheehan

glendale, california 

april 17, 2021

This is my cousin, Nidra.  She makes me smile.