Wednesday, October 15, 2014

October 15, 2014



October 15, 2014

“The Voice of love seemed to call me, but it was a wrong number.” That seems to happen a lot in my life, and yet, I tend to keep moving on.  Although I have been financially strapped for a while now, I still keep a man-servant with me. I had to sell off my rare vinyl and books, but I think I made the right choice.  A butler is a sort of combination of spiritual advisor as well as taking care of one’s schedule and clothing.  In a way it is like an I-Phone, but I prefer the human touch than the mechanical one.  Kato, was born in Kobe, and eventually ended up in Los Angeles as a student of the English language and to study the fine art of Judo.  When he was thrown out of language school, due to an overnight game of Go, where some say he swindled various participants of their parent’s pension money. Nevertheless, I hired him as a butler, and he moved in with me in my single room apartment at the time off Melrose Avenue.  Over time I got married, and people come and go in my life, but my butler remained with me thick and thin.  And due to his cooking, the thin part is losing out to a great amount of fat.  Even though I’m suffering from the physical point, I’m gaining in a peace-of-mind that is opening doors left and right for me.  Of course, eventually those doors shut tight as soon as I leave the exit, but I go through life as an experience, and not as an end result.



I began to write a detective novel that is based on my life.  Not the case itself, God no, I never even seen a dead body before, but the fictional detective is based on my character.  I’m not one of those writers that can write third person, only first-person narratives.  Even when I dream, it is me watching the dream unfolding in front of my eyes.  I’m in the audience, and oddly enough the figures in my dream narratives are not based on people I know.  They are usually an archetype of a specific type of person.  Usually the slut, the loser and so forth.  But when I awake, I can’t write the narrative as a nameless observer.  I need to be in the story as well, and it has to be told from my point-of-view.   Therefore my character is a foppish dandy, and one who is part of society that is slowly decaying.  As people who know me, decay is very much a process in life that I find fascinating.  Kato always supplies me with clothing that is slightly worn or torn even.  Maybe the collar is even moderately stained.  It’s imperative to show life as it moves from one plane to another - and a detective murder narrative is very much part of that world.   For instance I come upon a room where there is a lifeless body, and my detective character comments and to quote from my book “The Canary Murder Case”: “Why the haste, old dear?” I asked, yawning.  “The chap’s dead, don’t y’ know; he can’t possibly run away.”


When you have a man-servant, one takes a stand in life that says I’m going to drink that cup of life and not find a dead beetle at the bottom.  The ability to transform oneself into something hopefully better, is one of the great things regarding to be alive in such a horror show of a world.  “I don’t feel that it is necessary to know exactly what I am. The main interest in life and work is to become someone else that you were not in the beginning.” And there lie the great adventures that come upon us, as we slip into a world that looks like the outside. It is really an inner landscape that Kato and I dwell in.   I once asked Kato if “trousers matter?” He told me that “the mood will pass, sir. ”
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