Novus Ordo Seclorum

Fortunately, even after difficult emotional events, I can fall asleep at the drop of a hat. So, despite everything I dealt with yesterday, I slept quite soundly...well, until 4:45 a.m., at which point I woke up, moved downstairs to the couch, and started reading "Into the Wild," until I nodded off again. It's almost 9 a.m., and I am finally up. Ready to face the day, take my daughter and wife to the butterfly conservatory, show them my new cloister, and then hang out tonight with my daughter. It is a new day, and I feel slightly recharged, resilient, a bit resurrected. In 3 weeks, I shall be in Chicago with a dear friend, and I shall meet up with a friend/soul mate who is running in the marathon that weekend. Looking forward to some good steak at the Chicago Chop House and then cigars and piano at the Redhead Piano Bar. But first, I must get through the next three weeks and see how resilient I truly am.

Haiku: Healing

acknowledging pain: an actual sign of growth and my transcendence.

(c) fprm, 2007

Haiku: Chicago

That black dress of yours, piano bar, you entranced, i watch you, such bliss!

(c) fprm, 2007

Haiku: Showtime!

experimental musical - a heavy tap show - in our bed tonight

(c) fprm, 2007

Haiku: Steak

waiting for a dear friend; reading Darkness Visible, steak medium rare.

fprm

(c) 2007

Darkness Visible....

...I have read Styron's memoir and recommend it to anyone who is willing to explore. Those who might be depressed, who might be healthy, who don't know they are depressed...everyone. It's a beautiful tome. I recommend it highly. Now, onto "Into the Wild."

Setting the Stage - Euthanasia

Now that all the necessary people have been informed, I can be more public and open about a critical fact in my life. After eight years of a love relationship, three cats, seven years in a house, six years of marriage, nine months of a rough pregnancy and five years of a beautiful daughter who has her mothers brains and looks and my people skills, two surgeries, three llamas, a vascectomy, many art shows and an ill-fated political campaign, my wife and I have decided - mutually and with love - to end our marriage. Divorce! The word is so cold and legalistic. We try to think of it as evolution not devolution. We are lovers no more, but we are friends, and we are the proud parents of a wonderful girl who will grow to be a fantastic woman. I like to think of the process more like the euthanizing of a sick pet, one who is terminal, not healthy, peeing on the floor, blind, too in pain to move. Perhaps that is too cold a euphamism. But it is a fact, and it is a fact that I face with self-hatred, anger, depression, reinfocement of my sense of loss. Two divorces and one death in my household before I am 18, other losses I wish not to discuss, the election, which I tied too much to my own validation...this end of marriage, this euthanizing of the sick pet, is the cherry on top. How do I move forward. How do I continue to engage and risk more loss? I have gotten to the point where I forgive my wife for her part in this...when do I forgive myself?

Haiku: "Bourbon Without You"

Bourbon without you. emptiness all the way through. missing luscious lips. (c) fprm, 9/9/07

Two New Books

Today, I ran up to the Albany Book House in Stuyvesant Plaza at lunch time, put in an order for a book for a friend and ended up purchasing two of my own, Darkness Visible, by William Styron, and Into the Wild, by Jon Krakauer. As a poet and a politician, I am always intrigued by the state of individual minds. Both look like good reads.

Adjunct Teaching

On Thursday evenings, it is my honor and pleasure to share a couple of hours with a cohort of bright young college students at the College of St. Rose. I am an adjunct professor, teaching Contemporary Business to non-business majors. Minimal lecturing, lots of focus on group discussion, a research paper - this time focused on creative collaboration in business, student presentations on articles related to business. This is my fourth time teaching this course. It is a good group of students, already asking questions, active and engaged. Most from New York State. After class, a beer at my local oasis and then perhaps a little karaoke. Thursdays have become one of my favorite nights of the week (usually because I get to spend part of it with one of my favorite people, sometimes with two of my favorite people, depending on the Thursday).

Shutting Down

I am resisting the urge to shut down, to go into my cloister, to seclude myself from the world. It is been a difficult week emotionally and there is more to come before it ends; unproductive artistically (haikus spanked off at bars don't count); conflicting emotions kind of tear at me, from the inside. Uncertain about the the state of various relationships, happy only with one (which is not to say I am unhappy with the individuals themselves). There better be a novel at the end of this whole damn process. A good one!

Handwritten Letters

Recently, I have rediscovered the magic of the handwritten letter or note. I wrote and sent out three within a 24 hour period...rare for me considering I use e-mail like some use crack!

But to sit down in front of a nice piece of stationery, with a good pen, a clean table, and just write...it is very old school, very liberating. Not yet a lost art, but almost lost to me.

Of course, it was not until the late '90's that I had e-mail...my first address was baudelaire@juno.com, so I was a pretty prolific letter writer back in the day.

Of course, I am a little older now and my hands get a little achy, so letters will likely be shorter than they used to be. But it is a wonderful process. It feels like I've come home again.

New Phase...The Cloister

This week, I spent every night from Tuesday evening forward at my new apartment, affectionately called The Cloister. Beyond its functional purpose, I intend to use this space to retreat, to write, to read, to "entertain." It is nearly complete in its furnishing. And it is set up according to my needs.

If all goes well, I will be hosting one very special lady, brunette, five years old going on thirteen. Smart and beautiful like her mother, a real people person like her daddy. Should I ever consider letting her have the keys to the T-Bird, knowing I will eventually have to take them from her?