My first novel, now ashes. But don’t cry for me, Argentina. It deserved it. I   weaned   myself   off   the   phone   in   1984,   mostly   because   if I   need   a   phone   I   can   find   a   phone   and   I   rarely   need   a   phone. So,   when   cell   phones   first   came   out,   the   only   people   I   saw lugging   them   were   Hollywood   pimps   and   street   dealers.   A decade   later,   I   noticed   the   smaller   phones,   as   people   started walking   around   in   public   talking   to,   seemingly,   no   one.   I once     shut     down     a     particularly     obnoxious     cell     phone histrionicizer   in   a   bank   by   stage   whispering   to   the   woman behind   me,   “Wouldn't   it   be   funny   if   the   battery   was   actually dead right now?” She laughed. He took it down to a mumble. Then   people   started   pretending   they   were   from   Star   Trek, the    Original    Series,    and    people,    particularly    real    estate people,   started   wearing   what   looked   like   high   tech,   blue cockroaches   on   their   ears.   Turned   out   to   be   phones.   Still looked like blue cockroaches. And I went away yet again. Thence,    in    airport    after    several    years    away,    suddenly everyone   had   a   miniature   TV   screen   that   they   played   with, listened   to,   fiddled   with,   fidgeted   with   and   utterly   engrossed them while they waited for their planes. I   finally   accepted   a   “Gusto”   flip   phone   that   doesn't   work like   those   on   Star   Trek,   but   which   requires   me   to   lever   it open   with   a   thumbnail,   which   I   rarely   do,   since   no   one   ever calls me on it, since no one has the number. I   have   talked   plenty   on   phones   over   the   years.   I   am   happy to NOT talk on the m, when I can help it. Ironically,   I   covered   the   death   of   the   Rocky   Mountain News   as   employees   learning   about   the   closure   tweeted   from

the newsroom. Before Twitter really caught on. And    I    am    reminded    that    I    don't    always    get    it    right. Ofttimes   I   miss   major   social   changes,   and Twitter   was   one.   I thought it would be a short lived fad. It doesn't seem to be. The   Twittersphere   of   short   meme-based   communications seems   well-adapted   to   an   ADD   world.   But   I   haven't   lived there   for   a   long   long   time,   so   I   never   read   what's   “hot”   in my    network.    I    look    to    more    substantive    sources    for    my news. But   that   is   not   because   of   my   age.   It   is   because   of   my priorities. As   I   move   from   middle   age   to   well-earned   geezerhood,   I am   happy   that   I   made   several   choices   in   my   life,   and   I   am happy with my life. That's the short version. And so I am born ... Here's a longer version. When   I   quit   doing   “formal”   music,   having   taken   Music Theory    101    in    college    and    a    semester's    worth    of    piano lessons,    learning    to    play    selections    from    Bela    Bartok's Mikrokosmos,   I   made   the   conscious   decision   to   NOT   learn from   others'   licks,   but   to   start   from   there   and   construct   my own stuff. As   I   had   made   the   conscious   decision   to   NOT   learn   songs on   the   guitar,   but   to   learn   the   chords   and   write   my   own songs,   so   that   I   wouldn't   be   haunted   by   “oh,   that's   such   and such”   or   “that's   so-and-so”   and   in   retrospect   those   turned out to be very good choices. When    I    was    a    kid,    reading    voraciously    out    of    the Carnegie   Public   Library,   I   adopted   a   “superstition”   -   as   US Grant   called   it   -   that   I   would   not   glide   over   words   I   didn't know, but would STOP and go look it up in the dictionary.

I was an early adopter of the Internet For   my   ultimate   profession   and   my   life   in   general,   this proved   incredibly   valuable   and   was   the   beginning   of   a   life- long   love   affair   with   this   English   language   that   I   so   oft abuse. Alas. And   I   am   happy   to   have   taken   the   same   approach   to   art, having   taken   my   formal   training   at   Hollywood   High   School Adult    Night    School,    Introduction    to    drawing    and    then ignoring   all   other   influences.   Not   stopping   my   looking,   nor my listening but not LEARNING how to do this or that. And   at   sixty,   what   I   have   is   mine.   It   is   my   art,   my   music, my   writing.   It   took   longer   this   way,   perhaps,   but   I   look   back and   am   happy   that   I   learned   to   take   the   slow,   patient   path for    my    rewards.    Those    things    built    over    a    long    time generally   take   a   long   time   to   go   away,   where   those   things built in a day or in a year vanish just as fast. I   am   happy   to   have   learned   this   lesson.   I   am   not   at   all happy   with   its   teachers,   but   that   is   a   topic   for   another   day, perhaps. When   I   chose   to   be   a   writer   -   or,   more   correctly,   it   chose me,    that    call    of    “vocation”    that    would-be    priests    are    so desirous   of   -   I   knew   that   I   was   in   it   for   the   long   haul.   I hoped   for   overnight   success,   and   yes,   I   had   a   share.   But   I also   knew   that   being   a   writer   at   twenty   was   still   going   to   be being a writer at sixty. I   wrote   a   blog   for   ten   years,   and   have   taken   a   year   off. And   it   was   nice,   for   once,   to   NOT   write.   But   I   knew   as   I've always    known    that    it    would    not    last.    I    write    and    have written,   since   I   realized   that   I   was   a   writer,   as   I   breathe: naturally and almost unconsciously.

I   have   worked   hard   with   music   and   with   art   to   do   the same   thing.   They   are   my   pets,   my   unicorns:   I   was   always willing   to   take   any   writing   work,   from   writing   brochures   for cancer   clinics   to   writing   résumés   to   typesetting   Lee   Nails boxes,   Spanish   supermarket   fliers   (“Uvas”   always   seemed to   me   a   perfect   thing   for   a   crowd   to   chant)   and   part   of   the proposal    for    the    Space    Station    that    Congress    originally approved. “Have   typewriter,   will   travel”   was   my   leitmotif,   and   I never   was   unwilling   to   earn   my   living   with   it,   never   thought that   working   as   a   Kelly   Girl   retyping   papers   or   other   things that   no   one   in   the   office   wanted   to   type   was   “beneath   me.” As   Sturgeon   told   me,   “If   you   can't   do   art,   do   craft.”   And “Never   be   afraid   to   take   the   'humble'   jobs:   there's   always   a gift.” Theodore Sturgeon 1918-1985 I   listened   to   him,   and   he   was   right:   being   willing   to   write the   photo   captions   and   the   “girl   copy”   and   the   little   house introductions     to     special     sections     always     taught     me something.    Ditto    typesetting    Spanish    supermarket    fliers. There   is   always   some   little   thing   you   learn   that   you   could learn no other way. No:   I   always   have   been   willing   to   work   as   a   commercial writer/typist.    Or,    as    I    perhaps    ought    to    put    out    a    slab: “Scribe.” I chose to never specialize and that was a good choice. I   decided   to   figure   out   where   you   go   when   you   die,   and   I looked    around    until    I    found    a    practical    school    and    a practical   teacher,   and   I   found   my   answers   then   and   am   not in a state of existential crisis today. I   guess   you   should   have   more   explanation   but   I   can't   give

you   answers. You   have   to   get   your   own   answers.   I   answered the   great   existential   question   which   gave   me   prime   directive from which to construct my values, and my world. An   inner   moral   “compass”   you   might   say.   And   now,   as my   body   panics   as   little   debilities   appear,   I   understand   how much   more   terrifying   it   would   be   did   I   not   understand   the process   I   am   now   in   the   final   stage   of.   Seems   like   I   was   just about to turn 30 and now I'm turning 60. I   want   to   live   to   one   hundred,   but   if   I   die   tomorrow,   I have no regrets. The   most   difficult   lesson   to   learn   was   learned   at   the   end: If   your   vision   is   clear,   then   write   it,   draw   it,   compose   it,   and move   on   to   the   next   creation.   Eventually   the   world   will catch    up,    but    I    don't    depend    on    the    compliments    and adulation of the world for my impetus to create. I   wanted   to   be   the   person   that   I   am   at   twenty   and   I   find that   when   I   stand   there   and   look   here,   he   is   not   only   happy, but   astonished   at   all   the   amazing   stuff   that   has   happened along the way. I   am   not   without   my   faults,   but   I   am   comfortable   in   my own   skin   and   on   my   planet.   And   my   “vices”   are   not   very impressive.   With   patience,   they   can   be   weeded   from   my garden. I   can   “do”   the   telephone/smart   phone   thing.   I   can   tweet.   I can titter. But, I don't generally twitter. Then    again,    I'm    a    geezer    and    am    not    expected    to    be computer   literate. As   most   of   my   generation   is   not   computer literate. Another   choice   I   made   that   I'm   happy   with.   I   used   to   play the    same    BASIC    games    in    the    basement    of    the    Math building   using   boxes   of   sprocket-feed   computer   paper   to land lunar modules and shoot space invaders. And   I   got   into   computer   typesetting   in   1977   and   followed the   diverging   models   and   evolution   of   Compugraphic   and VariType   typesetting   machines   from   the   beginning   through the   extinction,   seemingly,   of   the   very   profession.   I   followed the keyboard from typewriter to computer keyboard. And    I    got    to    watch    the    greatest    revolution    in    mass communications   since   Gutenberg   and   within   the   realm   of Print since Gutenberg. Which    was    when    I    realized    that    if    I    had    to    wait    for someone   to   approve   my   projects   I'd   be   waiting   until   hell froze over and would produce nothing in the meantime.

Cutting up their rejection letter and returning it to them got me a humor column at New West And,    as    I    look    back,    almost    everything    I    ever    wrote, drew,    painted    and    composed    is    MY    copyright,    and    my intellectual   property.   So,   I   have   something   to   show   for   my passage   through   this   life. There   are   many   who   can't   say   that, and that alone is SOMEthing. Anyway   it’s   been   a   long,   strange   trip.   Here’s   an   example of    something    you    probably    know    nothing    about:    I    have      been   in   films—as   a   filmable   prop—with   Sylvester   Stallone, Adam   West,   Phil   Silvers,   David   Carradine,   Willem   Dafoe, Mickey    O'Rourke,    Ron    Jeremy,    Jerry    Butler    and    John Holmes, among others. And that’s just one little bit of it…. Courage. Eugene, Oregon December 11, 2015 Listen to this short  but amazing recording from December 11, 1941.