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Long ago–late March of 2007 or thereabouts–I made three photocopies of the pages of a text-and-image journal I had been keeping since late December of 2006. I spiral-bound the whole ungainly messes with the title page SOUL. I gave two of the copies to my good and encouraging friends Katie Meade (now Katie Wood) and Karen Wilkinson (now, tragically, deceased).

My soul has changed, not only with five job changes, six changes of residence, a divorce, and two other breakups, but with altered physicality, involvement in the Valley poetry scene, and meeting and making friends with over a hundred people. And a huge way my soul has changed is with the loving toil I have put into this blog. It more than anything else I have done documents my life in terms of expression.

Enough with the introduction TO the Introduction–on with the Introduction.

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Overview

Most of my posts are a combination of image and text, usually of a poem and drawing all in pencil. The reason I called the blog “One with Clay, Image and Text” is that I had intended to showcase my ceramic works along with my poetry and drawings. I regret that my clay work has been put on indefinite hold due to my equipment being garaged due to all my bouncing around, residence-wise. I hope mightily to get back into ceramics soon. Here is an example of what I had been doing with Raku way back when:

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Of my images, this is the one that has been seen the most, due to Roger Ebert’s showcasing it in one of his tweets a couple of months before he died:

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These two studies of Frank Zappa, subject of the documentary EAT THAT QUESTION: FRANK ZAPPA IN HIS OWN WORDS, are the two latest things I have done, though that will probably not be true before this post is over. These were done today while I was watching the documentary. I freeze-framed the video twice to draw these.

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This first one included a double-acrostic, “FRANK ZAPPA,” bookending the poem, in which I tried to synopsize his two striking qualities, Oddness and Honesty.

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In this second one I tried to pay tribute to Zappa’s wonderfully off-the-wall song titles by imagining a few that might fit music of his I have heard. The quotation, ” . . . give a guy a big nose and weird hair and he’s capable of anything,” WAS said by Zappa, but it is out of context: he was imagining what people were thinking after seeing him.

Ceramics, an image done almost eight years ago, and two done today–that’s a rather ramshackle Overview, but one which I hope gives a clue to how my soul has changed and how it has remained the same.

Underview

The subtitle of my blog is “A blog for the aggrandizement of Gary W. Bowers.” I am sorry to report that there is much truth to that. I have for the most part accentuated the positive and left out things I’m not proud of. I hope I haven’t been out-and-out deceitful, but some of the more embarrassing and shameful aspects of my soul, such as my incessant argumentativeness and pettiness, have not been showcased in this blog. I am flawed.

Comedy and Tragedy with Real-Time Update

I just took a break from posting to finish a page I’d been working on. It includes two poems I wrote the same day. I wrote “dole,” the first one, because I was discouraged and disillusioned by the shallowness I felt I was bringing to the poetry table at the time. I was feeling like a hack. After I wrote it I realized my real agenda in writing it was cathartic: being depressed, I was trying to express my way out of the depression. This made me think of Robin Williams, and James Lipton’s comparison of Williams to Pagliacci in an interview after Williams’s tragic death. How does one cheer Pagliacci up? Well, if you’re from Glendale, Arizona, you become Fuzziwuzzy the hairless bear and sit next to Pagliacci on a park bench, and then pretend you’re in the campfire scene in BLAZING SADDLES.

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dole

is it a pineapple
or an allotment?

lack of togetherness
in an apartment?

is it a person
who once ran for prez?

is it a wrongness
when spirit won’t rise?

doleful the poe-taster
runs down the list,

sick of his cleverness,
sick of the mess.

pineapple wringing
and churchbells off key,

tears unreleased and
the rhymes wry awry

a bald bear cheers pagliacci

pagliacci was a clown,
fuzziwuzz a bear.
pagliacci wore a frown,
fuzz a lack of hair.

side by side en benche they sat,
fuzzi breaking silence
whoopicushionesque and that
gave his pal some smilance.

pagliacci said, “p. u.!”
fuzzi said, “such knowledge
fair astounds me: how you knew
where I went to college!”

since then they’re the best of buds.
heaven-made, this matchulance.
fuzz and pally, laughing studs–
no more need for flatulence.

AND, IN CONCLUSION . . .

Friends, it’s almost 1 AM. I now realize that to go further will not reveal much more of my soul that cannot be found in previous posts, which I fervently hope you’ll peruse, and I must be straining your attention span by now, if I haven’t already. More to the point, my soul is now at peace, and wishes to sleep. Thank you for sharing this one-in-a-thousand experience with me. I close with my beaming face.

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Here is the “final” version of “buster browne,” my acrostic homage to Jackson Browne. I put “final” in quotes because I had intended to make this an oil pastel, and I may yet, when I am sure I will not ruin it. I refer you to Part 1 for a clue as to how shaky my proficiency with oil pastel is. This drawing has nuances that I cannot yet transcribe into that more difficult medium; but I see nothing wrong with glorious black and white, for now.

The title/acrostic is “buster browne” both for the irony of the reference to the shoe spokesboy Buster Brown and for my admiration for certain of Browne’s songs, in particular “Lives in the Balance,” wherein he calls to account (busts) the Reagan Administration and its shenanigans in Central America. “Lives in the Balance” is equally applicable to other misdeeds worldwide, with passages like this:

In the radio talk shows and TV
You hear one thing again and again
How the USA stands for Freedom
And we come to the aid of a friend.
But who are the ones that we call our friends?
These governments killing their own?
Or the people who find they can’t take any more
And they pick up a gun
Or a brick
Or a stone . . .

Browne is deservedly in the Songwriter’s Hall of Fame. He has solid songs in each of five consecutive decades. A year ago January I recited “For a Dancer” in its entirety, from memory, at a poetry event after the death of my beloved friend Karen Wilkinson. Here is its finish:

Keep a fire for the human race
Let your prayers go drifting into space
You never know what will be coming round . . .
Perhaps a better world is drawing near
Just as easily it could all disappear
Along with whatever meaning we may have found . . .
Don’t let the uncertainly turn you around–

( The world keeps turning round and round)

Go on and make a joyful sound!

Into a dancer you have grown
From a seed somebody else has thrown;
Go on ahead and throw some seeds of your own,
And some time between
The time you arrive
And the time you go
May lie a reason you were alive,
But you’ll never know . . .

Browne could be a bit of a rascal, too, with sexual innuendo. Try on his song “Red Neck Friend” and see where it gets you. And his song “Rosie,” about a sound man who lost a girl to the drummer of the band, has this chorus:

But, Rosie, you’re all right (you wear my ring)
When you hold me tight (Rosie, that’s my thing)
When you turn off the light (I got to hand it to me . . .)
Looks like it’s me and you again tonight,
Rosie.

And that is why in my drawing, in the background sub-portrait, I have Jackson Browne sporting a halo that also puts bunny ears, or devil’s horns, on him.

Here are the words, which refer to his songs “The Pretender,” “Walking Slow,” “For Everyman,” and “Running on Empty.”

buster browne

bitterness of brew and herb
urgency!!! dissolve and stir
some pretender? we dunno
though he takes his walking slow
every man ought say it plain
runs on empty keep us sane

*****

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Here is a rough cut of the illustrated version of my poem “come love me.” In Part 2 I intend to have a less sketchy illustration and a more calligraphic transcription, and I am also thinking of writing variations and additional stanzas. But as of now the words are these:

come love me

come love me said the blinking text
come play with fire come share my bed
we will disrobe and do what’s next
with no regrets and nothing said

come love me he replied at last
we’ll dine on scones & tea & such
our eyes will meet our souls hold fast
our hopes will mix our psyches touch

come love me now and bring your trust
her answer came ten minutes hence
we will be naked as we must
our lust become our testaments

come love me if you dare he wrote
we’ll shed our bodies get our bliss
we need no flesh to cross the moat
nor lips to frame the perfect kiss

an hour passed
two hours

ten

the silence s t r e t c h e d and
too
despair

they sought a love
had never been

they wanted something

was

.

not

.

.

there

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The final vignette concerns Santa Claus’s psychic tussle with a mysterious menace who appears to be Native American. This staredown may have only one survivor.

There was more to my cover design than the four drawings I’ve posted. I embedded them in a template that includes the masthead/logo of AMAZING ARIZONA COMICS, and I also added a title and subtitle at the bottom, reading “SUMMER ALBUM ISSUE/featuring SPEED CAMERON, SANTA CLAUS, and their Friends & Foes.” Since AAC is Russ’s brainchild, I’ve encouraged him to make any changes to my drawings, design or title that he wishes. I frankly don’t know how the finished product is going to look–but I can hardly wait to find out.

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The story so far in Vignette 3: That despicable canine cad, Archie Wawa, has used cuffs as coercion to shanghai June Monsoon into a milkshake date at the 5 & Diner. Archie appears, and is, unpleased at the arrival of June’s friend and champion, Speed Cameron.

NOTE: The 5 & Diner is a popular 50s-style soda-fountain-type diner, variously located in the Valley of the Sun. Pictures of James Dean, Elvis, Marilyn Monroe, the Life Magazine cover showing a movie audience wearing 3D glasses, and loads of other memorabilia festoon their 16th Street/Colter location. My daughter Kate and I have been known to pop over there for cherry Cokes and burgers in the middle of the night, though it’s been a long time. I wish I were there right now.

ANOTHER NOTE: These images of vignette panels I’ve been posting were not scanned, but badly photographed for expedience’s sake on the day I sent Russ my cover design. I know Russ and his superstar colorist brother Kyle have a challenge ahead of them, finishing and colorizing my design, but they will be working from the scanned originals and not these unholy photoimages, thank Goodness.

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Last night I finished the design of the cover of the August issue of AMAZING ARIZONA COMICS, meeting my self-imposed deadline of midnight by 20 minutes. Now I can go back to this stuff. [smiles]

This edition of this stuff is in a way a blast from the past. It finishes a drawing I’d begun while still the front desk clerk at Sedona Winds, a year and a half and a lifetime ago. The acrostic poem was created today.

tone in tone

tenacity is sometimes silent
oboes, faint but not pianissimo
nudge silence aside for satisfaction
entreating the listener to drowse

Note that there is the mildest violation of my arbitrary Acrostic rules: the last line does not go through the n of In, the middle acrostic word. The last n of Entreating would have fit perfectly, but the text would have been too squeezed.

On this page I wish my brother Harold a happy 64th birthday. This is a first. “To err is human; to forgive, divine.”

It is the last day of the month. It is my personal superstition that to do things on the last day of the month is to increase the probability of their occurrence on other days. (This also applies to the first day of the month.) So I have cooked and cleaned a little, and, though my heart wasn’t in it, having received two reminders of things over and done with, I’ve created this minimalist acrostic/image card. Abs is for abdominal muscles; Orb is for that “cold-hearted orb that rules the night;” Ent is for that singular creature of J.R.R. Tolkien’s invention, a humanoid partaking of a tree.

An allotrope is one of at least two arrangements of the same atoms in differing array. A burden is represented here as a pack mule loaded down with another’s possessions. A sailboat is often delightful.

Watson and Crick were the scientists who found that DNA, the stuff of life, was double-helical in form. Even Linus Pauling, supernally brilliant as he was, didn’t deduce that.

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I have a feeling of deja vu. Have I done this acrostic before?

 

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fields epithelial and fallow
e
levate onward, windborne
a
nd though unpossessed of persona
t
here is a seeming d e l i g h t
h
opping hastening hopscotch
e
ven a waltz-rhythmed dance
r
aising the sight of the Viewer

Epithelial cells comprise feathers.

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“Cold Reading” is a method of fakery by purported psychics. The late, great Orson Welles did his share, and here describes both how it is done and how it is dangerous for the cold reader, who starts to believe the power is real:

 

And here are my few words, acrosticizing the subject:

Cast a spell to curl the hair
Oust some devils on a dare
Listen for the lost & bad–a
Daughter’s message 2 her dad

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I am really proud that this one exists. First, I had cards but no pencil or pen. I went out of my comfort zone and asked a fellow train waiting person if she had a pen or pencil. The sweet, thinnish, abuelitaesque lady handed over a pen, refusing payment. (Before we got on the train I wrote THANK YOU and my signature, so at least she has a Thank You card.)

On the ride to work I first did JONES on the left side, KELLY on the other. Then I wrote and then drew as fast as I could scribble, with no photo source nor other reference material-just me, the card, and a ballpoint pen I’d just met.

Wotds:

Just a nod 2 2 exceptional folk

O for a punch/line–pray tell us the joke

Nothing so doing-got nothing 2 sell

Effortless focus has set for a spell

Spirit then rises swellingly–GRACE & GRACE live (d) tellingly

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slow, please; stop, please; turn around, please

optimism needs to be on a leash
for if not
it is unleashed
and what-the-hell holds sway

a man runs for president
and he is famous for his infidelities
and his bankruptcies
and he wrote or had written the art of the deal
and he seems near-identical to the uncaring jerkmeisters
catspaws of the corrupt bank-executive predators
whose fraudulence brought down the 2007 economy
and who got off scot-free

there is vast proof that he lies constantly
and his supporters say “ah well,
all politicians lie”
while he brands an opponent “lyin’ ted”
schoolyard bully style

many years ago there was an english rock band, the who
who did a song called “won’t be fooled again”
but the last line was “meet the new boss,
same as the old boss”

gaaaah
reason and logic may once more fail to carry the day
because there are neckless optimists with distractive shotguns
and a bedrock-solid sense of entitlement
who think letting the fox run the henhouse is a great idea
and will make america great again