My New Years Post (version 2..0)

written 12/30/10, slightly revised 12/31/10


It is raining today.  A little cold drizzle, the sky is grey, there

Is a misty haze, the snow is soft and wet, your feet get cold

And wet, the rain soaks your coat.  Cold and wet and grey.

I need days like this.  They help me think.

Here  are some lyrics to a song  I really like

(partly because I wrote it, mainly because it's good):

The Rain Falls Down (on a Freeman)

So there's this guy out on a pier, fishin’, and it's cold and it's wet and it's

raining, and he's not catching a damn thing. But he looks like the

happiest SOB I've ever seen in my life. Now sometimes, curiosity gets

 the better of the cat, so I’m like OK, I’ll bite, and I walk up and I say

"So, how's the fishing?"

"Pretty bad, pretty bad"

"Think you're gonna catch anything?"

"Nope, no I know I won’t"

"So..."

"Yep"

"So…"

So the rain falls down on a Freeman

rain falls down on a Freeman

I say the rain falls down on a Freeman

LET THE RAIN FALL ON ME

[Harmonica solo]

So we're standing out there in the rain like that, standing there for quite a

while actually, and finally he says:

"You know, I just got out of Prison today. I was there for eight years.

For eight years, I told myself that the first thing I was gonna do ,

when I got out was go up to that there Minnesota, where they got 10,000 lakes,

and I was gonna get me a pole, and some bait, and a fishing license, and brother

I was going fishing!

Now for eight years, I dreamed of this day, and believe me it was not like this!

But it is what it is.

And you can stand there with that fat-boy, self-satisfied, suburban smirk on your face

and think anything you want to about me, but friend I’m going fishin’!

And I know it’s cold, and it’s wet and it’s raining, and do you know why that is?

Because the rain falls down on a Freeman

rain falls down on a Freeman

I say the rain falls down on a Freeman

Let the rain fall on me.

[harmonica solo]

There are two versions of my last play, a full length version and a one-hour version.

This song  is from the full length version.  I wrote this song. It is registered with the

US Government as a song in my play.  I should be proud of this.  I am. Not everyone

could write a musical all by themselves.  I wrote the song about my feelings about

being trapped in my job and my life. That was three jobs ago. I’m a little dense

(or as Jethro Tull said, “Thick as a Brick”).

The play did not attract any interest, so I’ve abandoned it.  I would like to talk about

writing  this play, and some of the difficulties I encountered occasionally  in my blog.

It won’t become a blog about playwriting, but occasionally, when ever, I want to talk

about this subject (my last play,my next play about Berta Beeson).  It’s a part of who I am.

It’s like Don Quixote tilting at windmills, only I knew they were windmills, not giants,

Don Quixote, on his nag, in the snow and the rain, and Picasso would say “Glorious!

I must paint that.”

I’ve mentioned I’ve written two plays, neither of which was produced, but the first

I did make money on.  I spent about five years all told writing my first play.

At the very end, I wound up house sitting for someone, and this gave me a chance to get

home from work, put on something “nice” and write. For three weeks I was able

to have the space, the privacy, the negligee, that I could dress up when I felt like it.

Which honestly was from the time I got home, until the time I left the house.

 So yeh, when the inspiration did hit me, I was lying on this girly bed, wearing

a pretty black camisole,  for hour after hour, awake or asleep, day after day, and I

couldn’t write fast enough. I have never before or since had this opportunity.  It was

like a truck suddenly running on 8 cylinders, the creative release was like opening a

door and seeing a  world outside, and just writing it down, the easiest, most natural

thing in the world.  It was wonderful. 

 I am very proud of the accomplishment of writing this play. Very, very few people ever

write a play, and receive a major award for their effort. But like so many significant

events in my life, I can not seperate the achievement from the cross dressing,

from the identity issues. I was there. I remember.

So I locked the door and boarded it over, and went back to running  on three,

or four, or five cylinders, and you’re not going to win a race like this.

I’ve talked about boxing, being in the corner, getting pummeled.  I don’t think

it much matters whether you’re in the macho-macho corner or the girly-girly

corner.  You’re in a corner getting pummeled, get off the ropes, get out of the

corner . But like I also said, sometimes  when you are in the corner, you come

up with something good.  I learned an art term the other day – Wabi Sabi.

It means the celebration of Imperfection.  I’m like the poster child of Wabi Sabi.  

I like that. That works, that's who I am:

 Me, a guy, in a pretty gown, on my donkey, in the rain, and the snow,

tilting at windmills! Glorious!

Get me a pen.

It’s still raining out there, and to paraphrase Bob Dylan (A Hard Rains

a Gonna Fall), "I’m going back out...", but I’m just going to the health club,

trying to lose some weight.

So picture this, some silly guy pulling up to the line in his pink truck

And everybody in the stands is laughing at him, but them 8 cylinders

are purring like a kitten – Wanna Drag?  I’ll blow your doors off.

PS – Welcome Lissa! You never know what you’re going to get with this blog

PPS -  Happy New Year (I’m fine, really)