Sunday, May 10, 2009

Thoughts of a Rowdyman on this rowdy Mother's Day

Comes a time when I ape my old editor, John Slykhuis at THE NEWS, when I stare at the screen, say, "I can't write anymore" and head for the pub.
We had had some inspired editorial meetings there, in the Grey Goat's fuzzy interior of brass and oak, and then we'd get drunk, constructing great sprawling novels in the smoky air and shouting wild promises to the wind

Well, for me there are no great sprawling novels, no wild promises to the wind today.
I had tried to blog on this Mother's Day, but suddenly my lights went out, as they used to do in my drinking days, more often the result of a punch than not.
This morning, this "Pole" has been pole-axed.
Petit mal, probably-lots of Eastern Euopeans get that way, but probably too much drinking and too much thinking, which usually results in either a breakdown or ending up in some strange bed, echoes of a "Flying Dutchman" in your head, who is nagging, "Whatever you are trying to find, you won't get it from a whore."
Well, you can get lots from a whore. Build up your ego, call you handsome, wonderful. But the hand is out for the tip.
And yet, St. John in his masterpiece notwithstanding, what man does not love a whore? And how many times have we gone to Babylon?

Gad, I just can't stay on topic. I had intended to write about Mother's Day and had a personal power blackout.
Worse, I can't write any more.
I think I'd better make a phone call.



Anonymous said...

"what we call the beginning is often the end...and to make an end is to make a beginning...the end is where we start from..."

call your writing back another visit another room...

Charles Gramlich said...

I've got a couple of calls to make myself.

Lou said...

Your opening paragraph reminded me
"A Drinking Life" which I just recently read.

Most definitely not another maudlin Mother's Day tribute. How refreshing.

the walking man said...

Some short circuits are just meant to be... said...



In a word, don't you hate that when it happens?

ivan@c said...


Big tour trip coming up for you. I think we all need a vacation. said...


Thanks. Sometimes you just can't get away fom the cant. said...


I guess you know some of the territory.
...But it panics one to lose his intellectual faculties, even for a moment.

Anonymous said...

Hi Ivan: I've just finished reading "Light Over New Market". You've done a great job. I liked the last piece best when Kevin was in the mental institution. An insane asylum is a great place to explore the human psyche, and you did a good job of it. The book hangs together well with a conclusion based on the preceeding events, with the ending foreshadowed in the first part of the book by hints of madness.

You've left a wonderful legacy. I realize you didn't make any money on the book but I've come to the conclusion that money is only one reason for writing and, ligitimate as that might be, it's not the only legitimate reason. Writing to leave a legacy, writing for self expression, writing to create art - these are all legitimate reasons.

I realize the book was highly autobiographical and that made it more interesting to me because I know you. You have experienced some extreme situations and you made good use of your experiences in the novel. Well done Ivan! What does Karen and your children think of your books?

It took me a long time to read but that's because I've been busy the last couple of weeks and, in fact, I should be out tonight dancing the salsa and merigue with Lucia, but we decided to miss a class. Also, my reading speed has fallen terribly. I'm not sure why. I'll return the book to John when I see him next, probably within the next couple of weeks.

Three novels (I think that's how many you wrote) are a great legacy - worth a little pain and suffering.

Talk to you soon Ivan - Tony
(Tony MacGregor)

JR's Thumbprints said...

Hey, at least you have an editor to ape. As for your lights going out, I hope you don't mean that you blacked-out.

Inside our hands, outside our hearts said...

Dear Ivan,

Sometimes when I come here I take a deep breath because I know the waters are deep and somewhere inside you is this huge emotional being that you only let out once in a while. Sure, sure you make us laugh, sometimes cry, you poke fun at yourself and those around you, but I know there is more that you are holding back. I keep telling myself that one day you will shine so brightly that the life you knew could not compare to the life you have; you need to KNOW this too. You are a stubborn man, but in there, somewhere, is a man that has a greatness about him. I am sure this will make no sense or at the very least make you wonder what I am writing has to do with what you wrote. My answer? Perhaps nothing, then again, I did feel the need to write this to you after reading what you had written, so maybe it does. I guess I want you to see the beauty that stares back at you no matter if it has the same hangover or blurred vision that you have. For even the worst things have beauty.

Soft love my Ivan,
T said...

Hi JR,

A woman friend once said, "Now I've got you figured you do it.... You have this kind of fit, and then you write."

I don't envy old Fyodor and his grand mals. But look at what that Russkie produced:Crime and Punishment. I must get really sick at once! said...

A comment like poetry, Tara.

And thank you.

Inside our hands, outside our hearts said...

No Thank you's necessary Ivan, but you are quite welcome.

soft love,

Aaron said...

Sounds like you need a road trip to clear your head. You know, a Derive. said...

Gotcha. Here's Wiki:

In situationist texts, a Dérive is an attempt at analysis of the totality of everyday life, through the passive movement through space. It is translated as drift.

Yeah drift.

I don't know how Chicago just beat Vancouver tonight. Chicago was outplayed and outshot...Drift.

Did the camera catch all the fists and elbows kicking the shit out of goalie Luango all night to weaken 'im?

Talk about banderillas on a bull. They assassinated the Vancouver goalie. Derive!

the walking man said...

I don't worry about losing my faculties as long as I don't recover them dressed in some kind of adult diaper...there would just be too much explaining that would have to take place afterward. said...


Ah. Drunk agin'. thinking of old Melanie Safka, long befoe Alanis.:

Beautiful people

You live in the same world as I do
But somehow I never noticed
You before today
I'm ashamed to say

Beautiful people
We share the same back door
And it isn't right
We never met before
But then
We may never meet again
If I weren't afraid you'd laugh at me
I would run and take all your hands
And I'd gather everyone together for a day
And when we gather'd
I'll pass buttons out that say

Beautiful people said...


I am thinking of Charles Bukowski, double amputee, because of the diabetetes in a wheelchair, wanting all the same to still live, to still write.
The life force!
Not for me. I think I would throw turds.

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