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out of respect and admiration for the subject of this post, valley performance poet bill campana, lowercase will be used throughout, in the style (if not with the astonishing wit) of bill’s outstanding poetry.

bill took me to breakfast this morning. it was part of a deal we’d agreed on to put a ceramic vase i’d made, and bill had seen in my blog post “foom-bozzle-wozzle, part 3,” on long-term loan to bill. it is now in bill’s possession, and i’m proud as can be.

bill and i go back more than ten years, back to my early days of poetry performance, when i was still nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, and bill was supplementing his income with serious money earned by winning poetry slam competitions. in 2010 bill was the host of a the open-mic poetry event “sound effects,” and in may of that year he decreed that may 2010 was “gary bowers month.” that decree incentivized me to write, and perform, some of my best poetry.

pondering why he “gary bowers month”ed me way back when, bill attributes it to impulse: “i just did it.” but once he did it, he stuck to it, and riffed on it, and made a real something out of his impulsive throwaway thought.

and that, i think, is some of what makes his poetry enduring and deep, and much more than funny. under the hilarity is solid structure and soul.

as for the breakfast, at the ranch house grill on east thomas road, it was magnifent. we both had the signature dish of the day, a pork chili verde omelet, with hashbrowns and toast–i had sourdough and bill had the rye. conversation bounced around from bill’s grandfather, to lingering terminal illness, to personal health, to connecting with grade-school friends, to books, to the three stooges, to lou grubb and his progeny, to local tv persomalities, and on and on. one of many interesting facts: in the first grade, bill read thirty books. by way of reward his teacher sent him a fancy book, and inscribed it “to william.” it was a book about dinosaurs. so bill was into dinosaurs long before “jurassic park” roused public interest in them.

i am going to rent a car and take bill to the matt’s big breakfast on 32nd street and camelback a couple of weeks up the road. “we should do this more often,” one of us said, so we will.

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Once upon a time–yesterday, to be specific–I had lunch with a special person, with whom I was once romantically involved. She was making changes in the décor of her abode, and had brought me a wire sculpture I had made while we were involved, and a vase I had done that my mother gave to her.

We had a nice, resolving chat. No regrets about having been involved, no hard feelings, and no reason not to remain friends.

Before we parted company she talked me into accepting some citrus fruit and potatoes that came from her father, whom she’d visited before we got together for lunch. Subsequently I did some shopping, and my evening meal featured a delicious baked potato. This is what it looked like just before I dug in:

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All in all the day was quite therapeutic–and nourishing as well.

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Last Monday I had a rugged conversation with my apartment and thereafter resolved to do massive cleanup. It has been slow and unsteady going, as my apartment knew it would be. But this morning I’m putting in another slug of work.

The drawer in the kitchen to the right of the sink is now relieved of about three pounds of American coin, with an estimated value of $35 or so. About half of the value is in the dimes. They and the other coins now rest in nested vessels I made this year.

Also in the drawer was a treasured keepsake, an inscribed pocket watch, gift of my high school and college sweetheart. The inscription reads GARY/”YOU’VE GOT A FRIEND.”/LOVE GAYLE/1974. Forty-five years ago we were SO young and SO much in love, and ” You’ve Got a Friend” was our song. That was about five lifetimes ago.

The heartbeat goes on. After I do the dishes I’ll bag all but the quarters up (quarters are for laundry) and casb them in at Fry’s, a local grocery store, and buy toilet paper, coffee, coffee additive, and disposable razor blades with some of the proceeds.

After that, in the catchy words of my former classmate and co-conspirator and friend Charles Goss, “I have no plans for the rest of my life.” Except to sculpt, smile, work, and look for love. 🙂

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Before December 3rd, 2012, I had set a monthly reminder to start a blog. Month after month the reminder would pop up and I just wouldn’t have the oomph to get on to a blog-posting site. But on 3/12/2012 I oomphed–and it was ridiculously easy to set up my blog. I wrote and posted “The Great Gettin’ Up Morning” while it was still morning, and the rest is history–recorded history. One thousand, four hundred and sixty-one little explorations. Seems like a lot, but I feel like I only scratched the surface. On the other hand, it will give a viewer–you, for instance–a good idea of who I am and what I stand for, and against. Love and loss is in plenitude here, as are the pinnacles and chasms of the creative process. And suffusing the entire seven-year journey is a celebration of Friendship. I have many treasured friends. I met some of them as a direct result of this blog–Jen, Michel, Tiffany, Marta, Shawn, Jamie, G. E., Alf, “kwiksand”, Chantal–perhaps YOU reading this now–thank you all. I toast you with my Eggnog.

Dick Van Dyke idolized Stan Laurel. They met in the early sixties. Stan declined to be on The Dick Van Dyke Show but watched the episode wherein Van Dyke impersonated him. He later told Van Dyke that it was the best impersonation of him he’d ever seen, but there were a few things he noticed. In the movies, Stan Laurel used paper clips as cuff links. He took the heels off his shoes to alter his walk. And “The hat was a little off.”

“I knew it. Yours and Ollie’s had flat brims. Mine curled slightly. I tried to find one like yours. I even tried ironing the brim on my derby.”

Stan Laurel laughed gently and said, “Young man, why didn’t you just ask me? You could have used mine.”

That’s the kind of guys they were.

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PS: I learned all this today while I was reading Dick Van Dyke: My Lucky Life In and Out of Show Business by Dick Van Dyke. My Steady Girl, Joy, owns the book and has graciously lent it to me. It’s a good read, the more so because the writing seems to be pure, unedited Dick Van Dyke, except, of course, for the Foreword by Carl Reiner.

This morning I bought some more Tracfone phone minutes, and then called my mom to wish her a Happy Mother’s Day and to fact-find and get permission to do an unadorned account of her life as a mother. She cheerfully and at some length reviewed certain of her life events with me, and granted me carte blanche to write what I would.

Here is what I wrote, but not unadorned: atop my account I made a sketch of her.

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I’m embarrassed, but not quite ashamed, to publish this one. It was done in haste and the drawing is crappy, but the idea is OK and the pun, though I say so myself, is elegant.

Here are the words:

Motivations vary. Some will give it tooth & claw
Even laying down a life for Flag & Ma & Pa
Money, bragging rights & buzz are ways of keeping power; breathe our last & always there’s a whiff of sweet & sour