#21

Stripes or solids
not both

darn the luck
this is sew unfair
I feel like I've been socked in
the face
we snickered at them because our
guile was up

solids
no stripes
I can't decide

put a sock in it, mister
the crew grew angry
I take calf and calf in my coffee

Stripes
definitely

#17

There were
trees
they grew there

tall
proud
they waved to heaven
on a breezy day

they left
when the letter came
they hung their heads
and they left

perhaps it was something you said

today they bear fruit
on distant soil
and wave at me

I can see their grins
toothy and pure from here

There were
trees
they grew there
now
there is grass
nothing but grass

Lady Dragonfly

Dragonfly wings
filled with a gust of September air
appear around the corner

she dangles as a puppet
in free formation
over five late summer orchids
none like the other

her head as empty as a paper lantern
laying in the ocean waves
yet the candle is lit

she spies the wood of our old porch
a haven for a moment

a year passes through her
before she endeavors onward

bees tease
but escape her this season

she will not see another
and I will have to tell her what she missed
when our heavens mix
in days yet to come

T and A (Script)

EXT. LAKE HARRIET - DAY

Late autumn, multi-colored leaves dance along the shoreline of Lake Harriet, blown about by a light breeze.

A pair of brown leather hiking boots dangle mischievously from a bench facing the lake - kicking at the aimless leaves. They belong to TAMMY, 19, jeans, blue jacket, blue toque, blue gloves.
She is joined on the bench by ALLEN, 18, jeans, black pullover jacket, tall, dark hair, stocky, and muscular.

ALLEN

So Kitty Kat... Have you thought about it?

TAMMY

I’ve thought a lot about it. But I haven’t made up my mind about anything.
(pauses)
I’m not going to just do it for the sake of doing it. I’m not sure you’re the right one.

ALLEN

How can you say I’m not the right one? After all we’ve been through. I suppose you think we’ve got forever?

TAMMY
(angry)

I know we don’t have forever. And you can just drop that subject right now.

ALLEN

So, now we can’t talk about it? If you’re worried about me feeling bad for you - don’t! I don’t feel sorry for you, I don’t pity you, and quite frankly - I love you.


Tammy looks sharply at Allen.


TAMMY
(fighting back a smile)

That’s the first goddamn time you’ve ever said that in 2 years.

ALLEN

I didn’t want to freak you out.


Tammy watches the leaves tumble by her feet.


TAMMY

I’ll tell you what sexy pants.


Tammy stands up and turns around toward the large park behind the bench and across the parkway.

TAMMY
(childish smirk)

If you can catch me, you can have me.


Tammy takes off running into the park across the street. Allen jolts off the bench and runs after her. Allen must stop at the street for two cars to pass by.


ALLEN

Come on - come on... Friggin’ old people...


Allen crosses the street running with a limp. Tammy is halfway up the park’s big hill. She is heading for the swing sets and slides at the top of the hill.


EXT. PARK - DAY

Allen pulls closer to Tammy as she climbs the ladder of the big slide and stands at the top waiting for Allen to get there.

ALLEN

You’re playing dirty now! You know I can’t climb for shit.

TAMMY (O.S.)

That’s what I’m counting on. You’ve got to work that knee, Mr. Q-Bee!


Allen grimaces as he favors his left leg and swings the right to the next rung. Allen painstakingly climbs each rung of the ladder until he is within grasp of Tammy.

Tammy backs to the furthest part of the top platform just out of Allen’s reach.

TAMMY

Hold it! Tell me something. Why did you give up on football?

ALLEN

Is that what you’re mad about? That I gave up on football?

Jesus Tammy! Why do you think? The damn thing broke in two places! What exactly should I do? Put me in coach, I’m feeling much better - why don’t we let those 300 pound guys have a go at the knee.

TAMMY

You’re being an ass! You could be a coach! You could be a trainer. Dammit Allen, those guys look up to you! You have so much life to lead!


Allen reaches the top. Tammy turns and runs down the slide. Allen crosses the platform and slides down. Tammy runs to the oversized merry-go-round and stops poised on one side of it. Slowed by the sand at the bottom of the slide, Allen trudges toward Tammy.


TAMMY

Is it hurting?

ALLEN
(defiantly)

I’m fine!


Allen reaches the opposite side of the merry-go-round from Tammy. Allen spins the large disk - slowly at first. Tammy keeps her distance as they both jump on.


ALLEN
(still defiant)

I have so much life to lead? Don’t throw that shit in my face! This isn’t easy for me either!


Tammy and Allen are spinning on the merry-go-round at a good pace and fighting to stay composed and upright. Tammy rips off her blue toque and throws it angrily at Allen revealing her bald head.
Allen gets hit in the face by the toque causing him to fall backward off the disk. He rolls over - face up.
Tammy jumps off the disk and stands at a safe distance from a dizzied Allen.

TAMMY

Take a better look at yourself, Allen! The one thing I want from you is to see you DO something! Stop feeling sorry for me! Stop feeling sorry for you! And DO SOMETHING!

Allen gets up onto his good knee and brushes the sand off his clothes.


ALLEN

I was doing something. I was there for you every step of the way. And I’m still here - because I want to be here. I want to spend every waking moment with you.

Allen stands up and Tammy takes three steps backwards. She keeps backing away as she talks.


TAMMY

That’s just it, Allen! Live for us, not just for me! I’m not waiting for nothing! I’m here, I’m now, I’m going onward regardless of what anybody says or does. Can you understand that?

ALLEN

Yes! I get it. Now I’m going to get you!


Allen lunges forward as Tammy runs to the swings. Allen gimps after her.
Tammy grabs two swings - pulls them back and hurls the vinyl seats at Allen - slowing him briefly.
Tammy is prancing and dancing around the park avoiding Allen. She is teasing him and taking advantage of his bad knee. She reaches a large picnic table and hops on top. Allen nears. Tammy pulls back shaking her hips side to side.


TAMMY

This is the hardest I’ve seen you work in months, Mr. Quarterback. You must really need it bad.


Allen sits down at the picnic table breathing heavily.

ALLEN

I meant what I said Tammy. I love you. It’s just...


Allen pauses to choke back some tears. He sniffs hard.

ALLEN

It’s just that I feel like we should be packing in all our moments right now. I don’t want to miss anything!

TAMMY

Listen sweetie... You’ve got to relax. Live to move forward. Let the future be what it is - stop forcing it.


Tammy gives Allen a loving smile, sticks out her tongue, giggles, and jumps off the picnic table running down the hill to the Park’s tennis court.

TAMMY
(shouting as she runs)

You still haven’t caught me thumper!


Allen gets up and wobbles after her.


EXT. PARK TENNIS COURT - DAY

Tammy is on the other side of the net pretending to volley. Allen pushes the fence door open and enters the court.

ALLEN

Big mistake! There’s only one way outta here, and knowing your bladder size, I figure I can outlast you!

TAMMY

What makes you think I won’t climb the fence?

ALLEN
(smiling)

Oh - that - is - it!


Allen charges toward her. Tammy jumps away escaping Allen’s fingers and takes off around the court.
Allen hops with renewed vigor and corners her in the back court.
She escapes with only a finger nail flick from Allen.
Tammy leaps over the net, but catches her back foot at the top, landing on her hands - giggling. Allen stands over her.


ALLEN

Well, well, look what I’ve caught in my net! Can we go now?


Allen scoops her up into his arms and carries her off the court.


TAMMY
(still giggling)

Hey, I’m a good catch!


Tammy wraps her arms around Allen’s neck and plants a kiss on his lips. Allen carries her off into the distance.

FADE OUT.

The Falls

The crush of rock puffs its chest
through the mist vapors
while white pines and poplars point
to an amber thread
of water being pulled by
gravity unleashed

The dull roar of the water
over the limestone
orchestrated like sirens
calling to Homer
with my mind's eye wide open
I could sleep for days

With the mist hiding my tears
I will meditate
listening to the water
in serenity
carving the rock with my brain
as it puffs its chest.

Even Grandma

she rounded the corner
found him laying on his back
still

he looked at her
with mercy in his eyes
she delivered none

He begged in silence
giving way to occasional whimpers
she wouldn't oblige

he wanted coma
release
a dream

she wanted him
lying there
she wanted him to look in on
and pity
she wanted him to suffer

so he did

his insides turned to mint jelly

he began to look away
to the ceiling
to the window covered with purple construction paper
to the crack in the wall from the last earthquake

she let him go
it was a sunny day

he left when the leash was released
he left and never looked back

I Think I Went Shopping

I saw him walk to a car and lay down behind the wheels. He was face down. His arms folded in front of him and his head into the fold. His back would rise slightly; I could see him breathing. I watched him for several minutes. Nothing changed, he didn't even look up. People would walk by him and take a casual glance and continue without skipping a beat. I suppose, I wasn't much better just watching him there. On a hotter day he would have been burned off that asphalt within seconds. He's lucky it's cloudy today.

I couldn't figure out if he was trying to prove a point, or if he was suffering from some sort of disorder. He continued to lay there, and people continued to ogle and move on. I was the only one who stayed. I had to know how this would end. I saw two flies circle his butt and scatter. I saw a black ant crawl up his elbow and onto his back. I lost track of him when he reached the other side. A little girl walked by and asked her mommy if he was all right. She would only offer a smile and then quickly changed the subject to ice cream.

I stayed and watched. It was well past the hour mark now. A security guard finally came out and nudged him. He didn't look up. The guard gave him three nudges. I think I would have caved at two. I mean the first one is easily disregarded. Its all those after the first nudge that are hard to ignore.

I think I could've lasted at least two hours, as long as there was only one nudge.

About the Moon

If the world collides with the moon
the seas would drown in the Fire's cauldron

If the continents fall into the ocean
the air would escape into the clouds

If you and I were to endeavor an embrace
it would collapse the Earth around us
folded at the rivers
bathed by lakes and trees
a whirlpool of livestock
a tornado of houses

a collapse that would rewrite the bible
in countries of hunger and war

mathematicians would have to recalculate the hypotenuse
right angles would turn left at the intersections
short wave radio would be in it's longest form
hills become valleys
valleys become mountains of snow and ice


we would melt from the inside
like grilled cheese sandwiches


all this in motion
revolving around the Sun
four seasons become two
and then one
and then we are one
as the moon
set to collide

Impatience

small pieces
of metal, plastic shards,
and blanched paper
boast their positions,
then mingle with
frail sliver boned
spit
of neighborhood cats,

cigarette filters
white and amber
attempt to
breathe back their form,

fallen
scattered
tree garbage of
deep dark brown
strain to decay and
apologize for their presence,

rocks shuffled by shovels
heap into obvious piles
wishing to return
to ambiguous places,
while reluctant rain
slowly washes over
faded blades of grass
bent over
to try on
new spring fashions;

I wait for green,

the buds
the stems
the weeds
the moss
the thorns
the stalks
the leaves,

St. Patrick’s Day
and Mountain Dew
must suffice
for weeks.

Run Johnny Run

Johnny's running a marathon
after losing a hundred pounds
never felt better in his life

forty six year old accountant
for a seventy-eight year old firm
figures taxes every year
down to the last penny

his wife is a mile ahead of him
long time runner
even won one once

they've been trying to have kids
for five years
she's about to go through menopause
the adoption papers went through this week

she is an adorable Asian child
with a smile to melt your heart
she'll be loved forever

Johnny hits mile 13

he's thinking about buying a new car for himself
figures he's earned it
after all his trouble to get in shape
but he knows she will want a new TV for the bedroom
maybe one of those new Plasma TV's

Johnny hits mile 14

we should finally take that vacation to Hawaii
he thinks
before we get involved with a baby
babies in Hawaii are depressing
this should be like the honeymoon we never had

Johnny hits mile 15

as the blue sky greets his eyes
an embolism meets his brain


^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Strobe Life

We will begin this BLOG with a personal essay. Writing is my profession, stage lighting is my hobby. I suspect that very few entries will be of my being a lighting director. You'll have to suffer through some poetry, perhaps a screenplay (short form) if I can transfer it to this effectively, and general prose from fiction to non-fiction. So - today - let's start with non-fiction prose.



Strobe Life


In the time it takes a strobe light to flash once a human heart rests between beats. The retina of the eye, regardless of surrounding color, nearly slams shut. A bee has flapped its wings once. Most lightening strikes are only one sixteenth complete. All oceans have lost several molecules of water. The Earth entered a new part of space. The Sun increased its size, and you blinked.

There are many types of strobe lights, and most have adjustable settings. Some strobe lights can flash as fast as twenty flashes per second. Most commonly they are set to flash five to eight times per second. Anything greater and the effect diminishes to the light appearing to be always on, but flickering. The repeated effects of a strobe light are known to cause seizures in those afflicted with Epilepsy. The irony is that there are as many types of Epilepsy as there are settings on a strobe light. Most lighting directors, like myself, attempt to create a stepped fast-paced movement of those on stage. Lighting up the Rock n’ Roll stage is a far cry from lighting your neighborhood theater stage. For one, most theater lighting directors have to apprentice with another before they get their own show. In the world of live music performance, in the night clubs and bars of Minneapolis, you could be pulled from the audience and let loose to pound on the light board. That is, if you know someone in the band.

September 1, 1996, was a hot late summer night where I was summoned to experience my friend’s new band. They played every Sunday night at the Cabooze in Minneapolis, and called themselves Greazy Meal. They were getting a reputation for being an outstanding Funk and Rock band who performed classics from the Seventies along with a mixture of new Funky/Soul originals. The word had also leaked out that two former members of Prince’s New Power Generation were in the Band, along with a vocalist who could melt butter, and presumably certain female undergarments(?). I was there to listen and observe the lightshow, which, according to the band, didn’t exist. I was to decide if I could make a difference, if I could turn this show into something more than a band playing in a bar every Sunday. They wanted me to help create a concert atmosphere.

As I watched the very tight musical performance being executed before my eyes, I was already running through lighting scenarios for each of the songs. I could definitely do better than this guy. His lights don’t move, there’s no action to the scenes. He’s just doing color scene changes, and nothing moves to the music. No wonder they asked me to come tonight.

As I was making the commitment to the band in my mind, something unexpected happened on stage. Out walks Chaka Kahn. Apparently, as I found out later, she was in town and talking to Prince, who has seen his former band mates in this setting before, and he tells her that Greazy Meal does a version of her Hit song “Tell Me Something Good.” She had to check it out for herself, I suppose, and was gracious enough to walk on stage (hug the two former NPGer’s and the lead singer,) and sing a duet of that song to the sold out crowd of the Cabooze. It never ceases to amaze me how some really great things happen in the smallest corners of the city at any particular moment. Everyone there that night became a fan of Greazy Meal, for life.

Six years previous, my friend was in another funky little four piece band called Beat The Clock. They were just getting started, getting their feet wet in a few of the smaller local clubs, and no one was running lights for them, as their budget was non-existent. My friend said, “Just play around and have some fun. We’re looking for basic things like fading the lights to black between songs, and maybe making the lights go crazy during really fast up tempo numbers. Have some fun and play around.”

A little intimidated at first by the light board, I slowly taught myself what each button did. I eventually found what they call the “Tap” buttons. These buttons toggle certain lights on and off. These buttons became my best friends. Each light is connected to a fader on the board, and has its own Tap button below the fader. I would place my fingers on the individual Taps and play them like a piano to the music. I would Tap each light in sync to the rhythms. I eventually got pretty good at this and was invited back for several of their gigs. I hit the Taps so fast and hard, I created a sort of strobe effect with the lights. Being in an industry of nicknames, I ended up with one, and it stays with me in the music circle even today. Somebody, I still don’t know who, called me Strobe. All of a sudden, I realized I was a “Light Guy.” I worked for nothing back then except the free admittance into the show and all the beer I wanted in the band room.

Other bands and musical acts desired good light guys, and I was lucky to work for a few of them. Luckier still, I eventually realized, to be asked to be Greazy Meal’s Light Guy. Three of the four members of Beat The Clock were in Greazy Meal, plus the two from the NPG, the talented lead singer, and then the nephew of the man who wrote the pop hit of the late Seventies “Funkytown,” (For those who don’t know, Funkytown is Minneapolis, Minnesota.) Why don’t you take me to – Funkytown… And a very good drummer, who has no particular story of popularity, (but a really good guy none-the-less,) rounding out the band of Eight. Except that they also incorporated two female dancers, who danced in tight clothing to the music, like pretty bookends on the stage. Extra eye candy for those drunken frat boys with glossy retinas opened wide; until I showed up and made them all blink.

Lighting the menagerie of ten individuals on stage with a limited number of lights became more of a task than I had originally thought. Every Sunday I had to refocus the lights so they would hit the places they needed to hit. This included climbing a tall ladder to adjust the front spot lights. There were (and still are) only four front white spot lights and two sets of two front color washes, usually red and blue. (A wash is a front set of lights that bathe the stage in one solid color. You can create a mixed colored wash by using them both at the same time at varying levels. These lights blanket the stage in light and dot not work as spots.) The problem being is there are eight members and four spots. Fortunately, I found out the band was used to this dilemma and knew I wasn’t going to be able to solve it. The band had purchased two strobe lights, which I duct taped down to the stage at an angle and ran them into the light board, so I would have control over them with one of my favorite Tap buttons.

During my third gig ever with this band, they sold out the Cabooze and broke the attendance record for the bar. The bar is capacity, according to the Fire Marshall, at 1200 people. The staff let in well over 1300 that night. This got back to management, and the staff was scolded for packing in so many people. It would be nearly impossible to break Greazy Meal’s attendance record today, as they stay very strict with the capacity numbers.

I was finally earning money being a light guy, and still enjoying the free beer as well. I got to know and like all the members of the band, as they seemed to really appreciate the job I was doing for them. I had some power. If I didn’t turn the lights on nobody would be able to see the band. But I didn’t have any power, really. They would just replace me with someone who would turn the lights on, and fortunately it never became an issue, as it was more of a running joke with the band.

I got stronger and better and more professional with every gig I did. I even developed a bit of fan base, as small as it was, those who noticed the new light show erupting at every Greazy Meal gig. Again, for some reason, they called me Strobe, which was fine with me, as it made me feel like I was one of the cast members in this circus.

I got word from one of the regulars to the show that his cousin, who was 23 or something, was loving the show and dancing to the music, and then had his first epileptic seizure of his life during one of my crazier lighting moments. He didn’t even know he had Epilepsy, this was his first seizure ever. I guess he was fine after being taken to the local hospital, and was actually laughing about the whole ordeal, being quoted as saying, “That light guy kicks ass!”

I wasn’t sure whether to feel bad for this guy our proud of myself? Yet, his cousins who came back to the show after they had taken him home, reassured me that it was a good thing overall. Apparently, the doctor told them his Epilepsy should not go untreated, and it is better to know as soon as possible when you become afflicted. So, OK, this was a good thing? I just smiled and told them to tell their cousin I hoped he would get better, and left it at that on the outside. On the inside, I was jumping for joy. I had profoundly affected somebody with my light show. I had made them blink, and squint, and shake, and swallow hard. I had their head spinning and their mind reeling. And not just the boy with the newfound Epilepsy, but others who would come up to me and tell me they loved the light show. Every Sunday night, the Sunday Night Tribe of Greazy Meal would gather for a concert. They were not just a band to drink to anymore. They were an event, a happening. Sometimes they had a crew member run to Taco Bell across the street and buy a bunch of bean burritos which they would throw out to the crowd. Sometimes it was snack foods, I think, like Twinkies. I didn’t keep up after awhile with their give-a-ways.

The band created a camaraderie with their fans. They kept coming back every week, and they would bring new people who would be indoctrinated into the Sunday Night Tribe. The band would commiserate with those who worked hard all week and chose to unwind and let loose on Sundays. They developed cult-like mantras for the Tribe, shouting catch phrases like “It ain’t easy – Being Greazy!” and “I AM a Greazy MotherF**ker!” All attending were included, and all were welcomed to every show. They were spanked by bright white lights and strobes bouncing off the walls in time with thunderous bass riffs and high powered percussion. Then they were soothed by a version of Marvin Gaye’s “Inner City Blues,” and/or their original song “Away Delilah,” which flowed like sweet honey over the audience.

The central, pivotal event of the evening would come when they played their jazzed up funk original “The Urban Herbalist.” Which was, in essence, the song you became indoctrinated into the Fold, the Tribe. It is a jazz infused instrumental that breaks down into a spoken word performance toward the end of the song. The most important stanzas to me were: “The metaphor for you tonight is this – That underneath the lights the Meal will persist to play - so every Sunday Night - we get the groove on – so you can say, “so long,” - to all that is going wrong in your life – without the use of a pipe – or any media hype - we’ll keep you feelin’ alright, BECAUSE – this ain’t placebo it’s the real feel deal – we call it – GREAZY MEAL!”

It was a very special time in Minnesota music history, as the band got write-ups and interviews in all the local media rags. They did a few in-studio radio appearances, and eventually managed to sell out the largest live music bar in the Twin Cities, First Avenue. An event that is still one of my crowning glories as a lighting director. An event that would prove to be the band’s pinnacle moment.

As time can heal all wounds, it can also create them. And time did just that to Greazy Meal as they eventually broke up and ended Sunday nights at the Cabooze in 1999. It’s not important how or why they broke up; much of it is music business cliché. What is important to me is that I became a valid, real-life light guy. A lighting director. A lighting specialist. I was Strobe, a factor, an effect, a presence in the performance like no other light guy had become, (as far as I knew.) For a fraction of a second, I had something nobody else had - their attention.