Make it stand out.

Wednesday, November 13, 2019A cozy eventHere I sit venting my ventMentioning my proclivity for my own bent. Adventure awaits Beth and me as we went From working full time to a saner tentTenting tonight might include a cuddle or three.Could be. ****I’m glad I worked through my difficulties with Ira. I followed Jesse’s good advice. Not having to hear it thrice Means I was ready to do this. Why did I need to tell Jesse?It got a little messy In the sense that I feel guilty about notBeing self-reliant. I fear being too pliant. Nonetheless No mess, not messy with Jesse not irate With Ira. In fact there was unusually good feeling today especially at the end of the session. There’s an identity to when I’m more communicative and self-respecting with Beth. Could this be a new path instead of a bath of rusty old wrath?***Next step, back to work. Carnegie Hall hello. Philadelphia Orchestra and Curtis beckon. ***I could go for a margarita In deed aCouple sounds good I vaguely remember feeling sick Last time I let loose with my prickly desires Drinking too much- that was two margaritas not one frozen and one on the rocks is where my career wound up because of my lousy personality, my inability to work with others, to learn before I felt compelled to burn bridges itching to leave whichever company of men and women and especially children...That was then. Even looking back, it’s a little bit of a distortion, I’ve penned. Extortion wasn’t needed for my extraction from that world. Oft I feel Zoloft may improve my ability to learn. No need to earn another degree.More knowledge of orchestration and pop music and piano, singing, violin and bassoon Would be welcome coming not a moment too soon. Do I really want to play, sing, conduct?Ineluctable thoughts. My energy is being utilized in ways I prize:Composing, writing, editing, trading, exercise, languages, a little travel. Seems like enough. Good stuff. I close this with two taps of the gavel. ****Slightly hyper From working with piper and strings And brass what I really want is a piece A piece not too crass so that it will land me in a morass. Or less asinine Assigning my libido A free go association a la Freud Enjoyed by my woken will Will it pay my psychiatrist’s bill?Tuesday, November 12, 2019I’ve written songsMy lyrics were so-so at best. They did not stand the test of time. Even in four-four they were square. Yet I might careTo edit and compose a few new tunes. Sing and play my works for friends. My career is about to begin. ****There have been songs calling for action. With hooks for traction. Songs of despair. Songs of hope, care, compassioninspiration, love Jealousy, rage When it is too outrageous to speak ere long seek solace in song. ***There are political songs Work songsReligious odes by the boatful. Not to be abashed but or by our boastfully boisterous, bloated, bigoted, big bellied, bullying, belittling leader Is the most perfect inspiration for ludicrous Lieder. ****Love songs are probably the most common. Few as far as I know have been written about salmon. ***Lyrics for a song Should not be long. They could be glib, hip, suave, alluringAssuring your listeners that you’ll be touring. ***In the driving rain Taking a left off of Third & Main Late as usual for my daily train Why do I do this to myself ingraining The exact opposite of how one should train?Suddenly I saw a young mother of three. Happily, sunnily chatting as happy as she could be. With her chipper pup a wee little thing Wagging her tail come rain or hail The whole bunch perhaps were headed for brunch on a beach. (I headed to teach, trapped in a profession out of my reach, though for some quite a peach.)Keeping the mood light, gently funny They played with a little green fluffy toy bunny. All this good cheer Seeing as I passed from the left and rear knowing infinitely more, the happy dog his humans too helped me see and be more fit for a life no longer in endless fog. ***I’m smart.I’m clever.At least at this little writing endeavor. ****I’m smart, talented, a decent trader Who likes to compose notes and words. I’m in good and getting better shape. No desire to vape I escape in other ways Sometimes with meditative forays Though Faure’s Requiem is great As are his songs I have had little curiosity to hear more ofHis outputToo much input over the years. It’s not uncommon especially in older cultures for men of my age to become Reclusive and introspective Of course, I’ve been doing this most of my elective life.  More fun traveling with the wife. Still worried about our son. His idea of fun is too sodden with booze He will someday choose another way To relax and find his own mainstay. Ok. I’m sick of gratuitously putting myself down. Could I ever repair my name, my image Gain healthy, happy renownSay my name out loud?Make my son proud?****Eisenhower and Kennedy and Regan and CarterWould have thought it a non-starter For a Pres. who gives no press conferences to be a buddy of Putin’s alliances. Tootin his own horn born againLike a god or king of Israel to visit beyond the lake, the pond and the pale in Red Square he may visit to celebrate May DayObserving their military parade with his sights on emulating good old Ruskies Especially the huskies and blonde Babes who shower him with more than praise Hazing his political rivals We’ll see if our survival can be secured while this boorish bore is stealing from our heartland and shoresFrom granaries, the treasury even from the grocery stores of the poorest of the poor. 

Monday, November  11, 2019

Composing at my desk for nine hours in a row with nary a tone-row in sight. 

I might put one in or into my Sixth

But not tonight. 

Old hat

Old hand 

Ignorant of so much I should know

I could study endlessly till I’m done, no place to go slowing down not quick not more or less 

I guess I’d be even more of a midnight bore

For sure dead in the creativity head. 

Instead I choose to use what I know 

Learn a little as a treat

Be satisfied, standing or in my seat

endlessly glad no longer insane or mad that 

Life has given me so much I sometimes almost feel complete.

****

Short on cash

Take a swig from the calabash. 

Check my stash  

Take some losses

(Good that I’m my own bosses.)

Then linger no longer about being short on cash.

Gamble in the game buying on dips or a

Mini localized crash. 

Not short on stock. 

No need to hock, get roiled, rolled or shocked by trolls pumping and dumping 

Jumping from Windows to Mac and back. 

Stack the chips. 

Flip the floppy on granddad’s old jalopy 

Sloppy long sleeves rolled up

Green visor and Ben Franklins

Conjur a picture of 1890 back room

Of a California saloon. 

Leave the cigar and bourbon for another bassoon playing baboon standing by the spittoon burbling 

Urging 

Exchange for a turban

In urban New Delhi 

In a back room bar seeing 

The avitar of a New Delhi belly dancing bar maid 

Wondering what it would be like to not be so staid

Perhaps delayed by being waylaid. 

That’s the way it works if you’ve got a roving mind which travels far and wide.

While I gracefully slide, not skipping or skipping, simply down and around 

With my feet earth bound

In my own neighborhood many riches here I’ve found. 

Now that I think of it

Our president, had he written this bit 

Would have said to Mick and even Mitt

“Sounds quite profound.”

A hound by another other name is still a dog. 

Sunday, November 10, 2019

After I finish this symphony 

I’ll do something else. 

While looking forward to working on my Sixth 

I might want to play, sing, study 

Why do I still entertain the idea of 

Conducting?

Play in a quintet, a quartet, a trio and/ or a duo. 

With pipe dreams am I through? Oh...

***

Beth likes blues, purples, lavender.

Depending on her well-organized calendar 

We’ll see this, that or the other group of friends or relatives at weddings, hang out at the bar at Bat and Bar Mitzvahs.

I lucked out marrying Beth 

Who does the right thing 

With little ego, good self control 

Smarts, people skills, good goals. 

I gave the right woman my ring. 

Beth marrying me was for her a questionable choice. 

I give voice to her virtues

Which I choose 

To emulate so I win more often not getting bogged down when I lose. 

****

Beth likes books 

Theater, movies, travel, breakfast in nooks 

By a stream. 

Her dream vacation is a trip to Israel 

We’ll see the Dead Sea, the Wailing Wall

Have a tall iced tea by the Red Sea

Could be that by the Mediterranean 

She’ll strike up a chat with an old Ukrainian. 

***

Composed most of the day’s hours. 

Yoga, exercise, languages made me less sour

I’m cooped up not in a bower

But in Silver Towers. 

****

Saturday, November 9, 2019

I overthink the past. 

Often crass

Self absorbed in endless loops of pity and pain. 

It is an addiction in the main. 

Can I more often refrain?

Not a trick or fiction: 

Acknowledging that’s an addiction 

Gives a flicker of smiling hope that I can beat this affliction. 

For the first time I let it sink in

I begin to love my addicting pain less 

Than my life on life’s ever subtly changing plane. 

Stay in the moment 

Usually no harm is here. 

Here, hear!

Don’t make a rule. 

Let life’s perpetual, petals unfolding be the tool

T’would be cool to swim in the workaday worldly pool. 

For the next right decision 

With minimal concessions

It’s not necessary to fear 

Or even to pay overly dear. 

****

Till now

I denied having anxiety.

PTSD, OCD add a smidgen of paranoia 

Oh boy a form of anxiety. 

No shame to be reliant on psychiatry

If that’s what helps. 

Getting healthier

Healing a plethora of

Physical and psychological problems 

Vacillating between feeling strong among the stronger throng and feeling too weak

To do he laundry this week. 

****

Wanting too much. 

As such

I’m always pointlessly poor. 

***

I’m on vacation. 

Vacation from retirement. 

I couldn’t have been a fireman meant 

To be heroic. 

Nor a Greek god stoic. 

Yet here I am slowly 

Ever so slowly accepting my past

My self at long last. 

****

I now know the source of my rage. 

At an early stage 

My out-vents were clogged. 

Bogged down by shoulds and should nots

I got a bad case of non-loving blues. 

Doctors, doctors stop telling me this old news. 

****

Cessation of thought 

Meditation is naught 

But an intentionally non-productive production fraught with challenges 

Which in no store could be bought. 

****

“I’m getting to know you.”

Sounds familiar. 

Sillier sounds 

You know to get to a cvs 

Up and down both coasts 

I’m the toast of a roast

Of self-sabotaging anxiety 

Try it me?

What sertraline?

Ken is keen

For a higher dosage to 

Expunge unwanted violent thoughts 

Prompted by fear of annihilation 

Sounds crazy but on some fundamental level  true. 

Oy!

Who knew?

“I’m getting to know all about you.”

Said none other than my slightly paranoid big brother. 

***

My desire to get over my ocd in a hurry

Is no worry.  

Just a flurry

Of compulsive self-referential 

Angst existential.