It is a good thing that I stopped in Chicago and rolled the Priceline dice and got that hotel on Walton and asked for a hotel room way up in the building, looking out over Lake Michigan and your lions. I did take two shots of the lions with my camera cell phone, and I could learn how to transfer them to my computer. However, the resolution isn't so good, so the lions might look like pixel pussy-cats.
I am glad that my spontaneous phone call moved you to work with your current illustrator. Should I flip open my passport and call you to tell you how it reminds me of your main character too, just to keep you going? Of course, I called twice because the first time, a voice mail had run out of space. I like that you hold onto messages, and listen to them several times. I wish there was a utility to save these to an online mailbox because voice is valuable, especially when language is spoken to you.
After my divorce finalized, I passed a great deal of time zooming around the countryside of Michigan in my Oldsmobile Alero; it was kinda weird because I didn't have a clear objective.
I think my current drifting in the west has more of an objective; the classes have given me some chops I didn't get in college because I was neither an acting or journalism student. Most people are impressed when I tell them about the agent bit-of-business, but I know that you would not be, nor anyone who has industry ken. I know it's a matter of moxie, and I won't be taking anymore classes until I'm drawing money from narrations. I suspect that ear-prompter might be rather valuable because I'm good with techie information, and there's tons of conferences all over. But it's time to take the skills to the agents and the people who hire. I do not think recording a demo at the West Coast studio is a good idea; I probably can do it for nothing with MM, who sound engineers at a radio station in Southfield. Geeze, I'm hoping just calling people and talking with them will be demo enough ! [You want a demo? I left a copy of my demo on your voice mail, ha !]
There are places I have read about in the west, and I have gone to many of them; two nights ago, I beheld the waters of Lake Tahoe for the first time, and described them to G, my friend and attorney and probably my broker when I take the Michigan real estate test in early May. My daughter and I talked a few minutes earlier, and she is looking forward to seeing me at home Thursday, 4/28/2005. Yes, it's been a bit, could you say manic. I've been calling my anchors a lot, just to check in with reality. (And my lyres, too, Miss K.). The windfall was enough to carry me, and I still have a bankroll. I've stayed in a lot of 25 dollar rooms though, but where I've been the last few days has been very nice.
A few weekends ago, I enrolled in a weekend seminar at Esalen, (The Courage to Renew) and that was an amazing contribution to my ability to coach and relate to people. Last winter, I discovered the transcripts of Fritz Perl, the gestalt psychologist, and I promised myself a vist to Esalen. What you resist, persists. You can only change by intergration, and meeting the man who recorded all these intense sessions and standing exactly where Perl sat as he worked with his students was immensely integrative. I also visited the last remains of Black Mountain College on a trip last year to Asheville, North Carolina for similar reasons, a store-front museum the alumni and friends funded after the mansion up in the hills fell victim to arson. It is the idea of reading or experiencing a cultural influence, and then going to its source.
That impulse has lead me to Peoria, Illinois where I went merely to understand a song I sang in Lutheran church decades ago: "We're marching to Peoria". By that token, I want to climb Mount Tam, the friendly neighborhood climbing challenge because Gary Snyder, Pulitzer Poet, climbed it two years ago with his English class and wrote a sutra, which I've read. There's probably ten marriage proposals a day delivered on top of Tam, including the proposal accepted by KK, an actress who attended daytime conservatory with me.
It blows out so many walls in your mind when you are interacting with a proliferation expert from Japan, a psychologist from Sao Paulo, Brazil, a financial professional from Mexico City, a sociologist steeped in the folkways of the Inuit, a shaman trained in the Apache healing arts and an expressionist painter from Milan, Italy. My concerns and my inauthenticities are incapable of translation into Japanese, Portugese, Spanish, Italian or Apache, and therefore, meaningless. Only what is real translates.
Geez, I probably should write this up as a book proposal and begin begging for an advance; what happens when an ordinary American man starts to listen to American literature and song so closely, it starts to direct his travel plans? Does he wind up with a book, or does he end up in the poor house? I don't think to poor house; after all, when one answers fully the call to adventure, then the guides appear to make clear the way.
Thank you my lyre,
Wilbo
What's in a Name?Wed, 20 Apr 2005 21:57:00 -0700 (PDT)
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