Some music to listen to...

Charles Mingus
Count Basie
Duke Ellington
Stan Getz
Bob Brookmeyer
Woody Herman
Paul Desmond
Dave Brubeck
Gerry Mulligan
Chet Baker
Jackie McLean
Gigi Gryce
Sonny Rollins
Thelonious Monk
Miles and Coltrane
Cannonball Adderley
Bill Evans
Gil Evan
Clifford Brown
Max Roach
Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers
Horace Silver
Ray Charles
Muddy Waters
Little Walter
Howlin' Wolf
Big Mama Thornton
Billy Ward
All these from a paragraph in Mingus Mingus by Janet Coleman and Al Young

Sweating Sheets

Can’t eat an ice chip
Can’t take a sip
Can’t walk
Losing breath
Blood
I should call emergency
Dr, I’m broken

I shuffled to a taxi
“please take me to a cure”
Once again I’ll sign these forms
yes of my own volition
but also not my choice

the sharpshooter finds the vein
the dread not followed by pain
iv drip with a powerful steroid push
first liquids in days
come on kidneys
three times a night sweat through the sheets
a gasp of breath between words
stuttering starts days pass
alone

NPO - nothing per oral
Kickoff painkiller brings absolute relaxation
Torso without the acute response
i remember sleeping
steroids battle morphines
Up down awake out
draw the curtains
Is it bright
it is night
I’m confused
On my birthday

A couple meals
Try taking pills
pull each leg forward to resemble walking
20 pounds down
Calves, thighs shoulders gone
Time to go
information is presented but
far from understood
struggle out the door
no float to get up the stairs
no recollection of my return

the orders I follow don’t make sense
leave the house the day after this?
An hour and 1/2 to prepare
drive the truck to the clinic
no record of an appointment
I’m lost, where should I be?
So i stand, barely leaning
old man quiver
confused by the destination
I see myself in eyes of others
grey and swollen
disoriented and shaking
What am i doing here?
Can i please go home?

These dreams aren’t in color
The medications create
Sharp primary pixels with my eyes closed
my right eye shut
hot spot of red, green, purple
where do these come from?
What trigger was pulled to burn them into my night sight?

One cup of water
concentrate on the grip
don’t drop it, focus, focus,
no chance to get off the couch
not even strength no internal motivation
drained completely as day becomes night becomes day
sleep never comes, when it does for 83 minutes
hungry shaking sweating stumbling napping
Am I well? Am I sick? How tired? I can’t tell.
I can’t tell.

Days of sitting quietly
Dust floats through sun beams
when did I cross my legs?
how long have I been here?
no reading even with glasses
watch tv vegetate try to eat

Is this fear? Am I scared?
To go outside? To walk down?
I am.
Take stairs up I can’t catch my breath
Sit down for 30 minutes from one basic move
Walk on a Monday, shattered on a Tuesday
48 hour recovery from a walk around the block.
Baritone to tenor, profundo to a wisp

weeks pass
motionless quiet
an idea forms
but the action can’t be performed
Slow eight brocade
find a stretch expand a muscle
leave, return, breathe
panicky moments
be double careful mantra
shower or cooking or driving
pray no accidents
no accidents

Swimming pool session every three days
float in the corner, moving my limbs
Muscles want to reform
not quickly not of youth
strength recovers
slowly & not complete
many walks before the stride reforms
skin thins cuts unexplained
face expands poisoned hair
buffalo hump eyes tearing pounds lost
back stings internal pain
exertion forces reevaluation
sit again let time pass

Early summer I existed
Mid summer i disappeared into
weeks of couch bed bathroom
hospital noise nightmares
A hot washcloth of humid air
week after week after week
blur through recovery
a haze still exists
fog of frustration
broken dreams
suffering this fool
one more step

More fun with books

Last weekend I had a serendipitous literature day.

On Friday I got a NY Times book section email. Neal Stephenson, author of Cryptonomicon, Snow Crash, etc., has a new book, "REAMDE." I checked the library web site and it had 54 reservations. For a 1000+ page book it won't be available for a year or two. So I went to B&N and bought a copy. Then, reading through the Washington Post National Book Festival section, I see the Neal is speaking and signing books on Sunday. I took the Orange Line Metro to the National Mall, met some book folks and had both the novel and my writing book signed. A good day.

I might look for one specific book at the library, but then I just browse. Came across Ice-T's book "Ice - A memoir of gangster life and redemption-from South Central to Hollywood." I like Ice-T. I liked his rap music and the hard core rock of Body Count. Maybe you don't like it. I'm not asking you.

Recovery Reading

Haven't posted lately. Mighty "not-well" from late June. Call it the troubles. Or my 2011 summer break. For recovery I watched a lot of the Travel Channel. Tried to play guitar and bass. And began reading again. One author a friend recommended is Walter Mosley. So far I've read:

The Leonid McGill Mysteries:

* The Long Fall

* Known to Evil

* When the Thrill is Gone

Detective novels set in New York City. The protagonist, Leonid, is a recovering rough guy, trying to do good after doing so much bad. I like the characters - nothing too deep, which is important while getting my thinker working again.

I've also read two of the three Socrates Fortlow books, and will start the third today.

* Always Outnumbered, Always Outgunned

* Walking the Dog

* The Right Mistake - The further philosophical investigations of Socrates Fortlow

Socrates spent 27 years in prison for murdering two friends. He lives in a 1.5 room squatter house down an alley in Watts. Like Leonid, Socrates is tries to live his life to make things better, having taken responsibility for his actions. He is violent, but as the books progress he considers his anger and his reactions. He considers his place in society and struggles with reconciling issues in the black community.

I did read one Carl Hiaasen book, "Star Island." It was the first thing I read after the hospital. An easy read, Hiassen characters. Nothing to hurt my head.

Listening

Finished "The Music Lesson" by Victor Wooten. I've had it for a little over a year. He writes of his spiritual journey with Music. There are places where life becomes magic and back. And some strong insights into being a better player, band member and person.

I met Victor at the Contra Bass festival at Kamehameha Schools in March 2010. He taught a workshop. I should have asked him whether there was a relationship between his martial arts and his playing.

Source Code Time Shift

Are there 8 consecutive minutes in life that, if changed, would alter the current trajectory?

Of course there are.

Eight minutes is a kiss or not.

Eight minutes is a beer or not.

Eight minutes is a fight or not.

Eight minutes is a flight or not.

Eight minutes is a bus ticket, a hitched ride, a meal, a song.

Eight minutes is a lifetime.

Norwich and Altadena

the coach ride to norwich included 30 years of development

and cacti and streams only found in the desert

ragtop pimp mobiles converge on the corner

parties of youngsters

i'm smaller than they are

Finishing books.

Finished Chabon's "The Yiddish Policemen's Union." I didn't realize it won the Hugo in 2008. His novel is one type of science fiction I like - an alternate reality that has nothing to do with spaceships, skewed hard science, or fantasies of elves and dragons. It brought me back to "Man in the High Castle" by P.K.Dick. I've now read two of Chabon's novels - this and Kavalier & Clay. I don't know if I'll explore more of his writings, but these two novels brought me back to reading larger books. I'm glad they were worth the read.

Dreams with massive crowds.

Handball tournament.

I-Robot factory and prayer meeting.

Killer lower wall shot.