Studio Notes

MORE MENTAL HOUSE CLEANING

2008-11-25T20:33:00.000-08:00

After Jeff died my life changed in many ways; which of them have anything to do with his absence I don't know; I'm too close to tell.

(News flash to everyone because no one really knows this!)This last year has been tough in a lot of ways and I knew changes would have to be made. I might have to-get a job! A change was made, a chapter in life is over and a different one begun.

Jeff's death put a stopper in the verbal narrative of my life. I have wanted to resume writing on Studio Notes and felt that the first entry needed to be about his death. I felt a need to memorialize him, to honor him, but I couldn't, and so hadn't done anything beyond that point. It was seven months until I could say something. A lot happened in that time, and yet, not much as well.

A week or so after I got back from S.F., and really came out from myself into the world at large, I met, and soon went to work for, (unknown to me when I met him), a maniac, helping him remodel a house. Fortunate timing in the face of a long, lean summer filled with nothing regular in the way of modeling or shows. So I spent the summer building someone else's dream. The oddness of having my life take such a big turn for the worse and then the better, experiencing such loss, then getting work when people are losing their homes and jobs, making good money when the financial world is collapsing, I was humbled and weirded out.

One of the more challenging aspects of my brothers death was inheriting things: his car, a Toyota 4Runner and the nicest machine I've ever owned, the Mac I'm writing this on, several good books and more styling clothes than I have had in years. I hate it, feel nauseous thinking about it, and sometimes like it, and that too makes me feel sick.

The computer Robin let me have is an older Mac and I don't yet have administrator access (getting passwords when someone is on their death bed isn't something I anticipated) but it is a good enough learning curve to be on, and I hold out hope that his files will be a good piece of him to have.

I have been too tied down and busy, as well as dealing with the aforementioned technical challenges, to pay any attention to all but the most glaring outrages of this election. All I want to say is- we can change today, “Si se puede!” Now more than ever, we have to adapt or die, extreme, but true. The work has just begun.

My Brother Jeff

2008-11-02T22:36:00.000-08:00

died April 15.

Today, November 2nd was his birthday. He would have been 51.

He was brilliant, stellar, and thus illuminating. Lest you think I am idealizing him too much- an easy thing to do from many perspectives- those closest to him could get too much infrared and U.V.s and be burned. Noble and generous when things were going well and not afraid to ask and expect the same from others on the rare occasions when he was in need. He could be toxic, dangerous, and loving and occasionally all at the same time. He saved me and hurt me and I will never be the same without him. I miss him more than I can say. In many ways, he was as powerful as a black hole and as influential on my life, and many, many, others, as can be. He was my hero and my antihero, the center of the universe in many ways to me; an example, guide, and cautionary tale all in one. He respected me in ways that I rarely got from others. If a cynic is an idealist whose ideals are so high they are never attained, and thus are forever let down Jeff wasn’t a cynic but he often demanded much more than this world could deliver.

He shared windows into his world that continue to color my life with the light of his passion and insights, introducing me to a host of transformational experiences and people in such a way as to change my life forever. He was hyperbolic. He was superlative. For me words don't work yet to convey his essence. He was my leader and example in more ways than I have been able to recount, something I have been trying to do for the last several months, been trying to put into words what his death has meant to me and even now I am challenged by the effort. To some degree the difficulties that this involves come from the similarities and childhood we shared and putting this into words requires a large measure of self-examination, some of which is pretty uncomfortable.

He was a challenge and a blessing from the start. He tormented my sister, Kristin, to the point of violence too many time to count and helped put food on the table with his paper route money after my parents’ divorce. He gave me my first Charlie horses because he wanted to watch my flesh bulge out when I could do nothing to stop him and stood up to my father when the fighting between my parents began in earnest. Victimizer and redeemer, tormenter and hero. These were roles he played throughout his life until the very end. All his family and lovers will attest to this.

He was a tech geek from the beginning: doing science fair projects with lasers (only invented twelve years earlier!) around the age of 12, dissecting a shark and gathering top honors from it.

I was as overjoyed as he was when he and a friend came home with their newspaper carrying bags overflowing with a couple of bull frogs and hundreds of baby frogs. My mother was horrified and made him take them back to the pond they came from. What he had planned for them I had no idea, but how cool.

He was an Angry Young Man when he was a boy and I clearly recall joining the anti-Nixon/anti-war protest rally he had organized the neighborhood kids around one summer night, irritating our Republican, and former Nixon campaign worker, father. In high school he was busted for streaking, after being identified when someone pulled off the paper bag he had over his head. One of the first, and almost last, times he was caught for his transgressive behaviors. He was a quick study to say the least.

Starting with his irritation at my changing the station on the clock radio (we shared a bedroom growing up) from KDKB to KUPiD, his musical tastes fundamentally formed mine and turned me on to the depth and breadth of experiences that music has to offer.

All of the musical highlights of my life, the most amazing experiences, the most spectacular performances, and the most memorable events involved him: a free ticket to my first concert-Al Stewart when I was 14, Fela in Los Angeles, Bowie, my first Dead show and all that entails, The Talking Heads and The Tom-Tom Club, many Meat Puppets shows, The Phillip Glass Ensemble at The Scottsdale Center for the Arts (he almost cried when I gave him the tickets for his birthday, and was pretty much speechless when we met Glass back stage.), a champagne brunch he made the morning of a Stones concert (his enjoyment of food expressed itself in his excellent cooking). He taught me the opening chords to Brown Sugar and gave me my first Led Zeppelin album, Houses of the Holy.

Just as in Scottsdale and Tempe, then Seattle and lastly in San Francisco, a number of remarkable personalities coalesced around him. I will venture a guess about places he lived but I didn't visit him at- Bozeman, Montana and Denver, and include them as well- Jeff was always just left of the center of, if not spot on, the most exciting scenes around-the heart of the budding punk/alt/whatever music scene in Phoenix in the eighties and the Meat Puppets, then Seattle and Nirvana. Finally, San Francisco and the dot com thang. Lots of dots. Usually content to be shining the light on others, sometimes chagrined to be, in his own words to me “Always a bridesmaid, never a bride”.

He was admitted to San Francisco County Hospital in late March with his most serious bout of ulcerative colitis, a disease he developed several years ago but kept this from most everyone for a few years and many people, even very close ones, until immediately before his death. He died from an unstoppable M.R.S.A. infection contracted the day he was scheduled to leave the hospital.

The last couple of times that he was hospitalized because of it, my efforts at understanding and support were met with a degree of irritation and diffidence that he could express quite well; if it wasn't of value to him it shouldn't be to anyone else either. He was never one to complain about what ever difficulties turned up in his life, and by and large, was fiercely independent and powerful. His was a power that was expressed as intensely passionate anger, and overwhelming act of love.

Now a bit about Ulcerative colitis (U.C.) M.R.S.A. or, Methicillin Resistant Staphylococcus Aurus and his end, no pun intended. U.C. is an immune system disease where-in your body doesn't distinguish between food and your own intestines and, if left untreated, will result in your body literally digesting itself. This is first expressed as pits and eventually holes in your colon, or as he said to me, “I’m ripping myself new assholes.” The consequent massive infections are treated by assaulting your body with antibiotics. One of the many results is the destruction of your immune system, leaving it open to the smallest infections.

M.R.S.A. is a relatively new version of a virus, a “superbug” that is on 90% of all humans, most commonly found in the nose, which is why you are more likely to contract it when you have a tube up it for extended periods. There are four major strains, his was the toughest of them. It is survival of the fittest which means you or it. I would love to hear Darwin hold forth on it. I have a friend who is a doctor and, in his words, if he were in the hospital, as soon as he was physically able, would crawl from the hospital to avoid this. When MRSA started to be an issue, Sweden got on the ball and now has a .10% infection rate. In the richest nation in the world, where we let the "free market" make the decisions, because "greed is good", if you are in ICU for over two weeks, you have a 50% chance of becoming infected; you have a 27% chance of dying from it. But at least we have low taxes, right?! He was diagnosed with it on the day before he was scheduled for release.

I had had several late night talks with him over the course of his previous stays in the hospital. Colitis treatment involves steroids; one of the side effects was being wired and, knowing I am a night person, he would call me in the middle of the night. He had told me a couple of times when it was particularly bad, that, while, yes, he wanted to stay around, he had lived a full life and was as ok as one could be with leaving. His biggest regret was leaving Zoe, his stepdaughter of 13.

The infection was in his blood and thus was spread throughout his body. The body’s response is to produce clots that are themselves infected. In the doctors’ words, "they (the clots) have spread throughout his body and set up shop." Blood thinners are the standard treatment for clots, but because they were infected, dissolving them simply spread them throughout his body which caused at least three strokes.

San Francisco County Hospital was described to me as "the Harvard of the West coast" by a couple of his doctors. A pause to praise his docs and nurses; they were all amazing. A couple of them went to his wake and several told me and my family that he was their favorite patient; he was so on the ball, so knowledgeable and engaged about everything that was going on. He signed consent forms to the last.

As is only fitting of Jeff, the way that this disease progressed was so rare that only one similar case could be found from around the world, a man in Australia had a similar set of conditions (technically termed-Cavernous sinus thrombosis, or doctor speak for a blood clot between his eyes, in the front of his brain) and he made a full recovery. By the time I got there (a Thursday morn) he was blind in one eye and had bruises and sores covering his body.

Two weeks after he was diagnosed, he was dead.

The first week was a series of ups and downs, on the path downhill. Robin, his girlfriend of the last several years had been staying with him during his U.C. treatment as much as she could while keeping home and hearth (and job) (and motherhood) intact. She was an unsung hero for the whole of his dealing (or not, as the case was so often) with his disease.

Through the time I spent with him he was a fighter, dealing with it stoically and with eyes wide, so to speak. A quintessentially Jeff moment went like this- He told me how wonderful his team of nurses and doctors were, then praised them in front of me with all the sincerity that was in him (a lot). He then asked me to brush his teeth for him (Robin had been shaving him during his stay as well), which I happily agreed to. Soon after I started he became irritated at my ineptness (I’ll cop to that-I’ve never done it for someone else before.) yelling at me as best he could in his weakened state “Figure it out Steve! It’s not fucking rocket science!” Quintessential Jeff, to the last.

The morning of the second Friday I was there (all the while, all of us playing tag-team staying with him) the hospital called and suggested we come to discuss with him as best he was able to what he wanted to do. We went down to tell him we would support him in whatever he wanted to do, fight or not… the tests on his blood had come back positive for MRSA for eleven days and they were doing everything they could think of but it kept getting worse. That evening he let us know he wanted to keep fighting but by Saturday morn the doctors called just before we were all heading down there. He had told the attending doctor that he knew he was dying and he wanted to quit. Focus shifted to comfort and he was given triple the amount of morphine had been on for the previous two weeks, all tubes were pulled and tests stopped. He had been given his own drip button to control the morphine several days before. He was as comfortable as could be.

As word got around to his friends the ICU became so full, ten or twelve of us rotated in and out of his room and were told that we had to stay in his room and out of the halls of ICU. "Only two people are allowed in a room at a time." They saw more life and energy in that unit that they had had in God only knows how long and I think they liked it. He took his time and was aware for most of what came and went till Tues morning.

Tues night I left at 10:00 P.M. to take my mother back to Robins. At 10:35PM his heart stopped. Kris, my older sister was holding his hand and Allen, my younger brother was standing by his side. MY brain completely seized up when I got back from Robins and I turned right around, unthinkingly and went back to get my Mom, thinking for some reason she would want to come down. No, she had to stay with Zoe. I turned back around and went to the hospital, all this time not crying, and for the tenth time, got lost. When I got there most everybody had left. I went in and joined Robin, Allen, and Kris.

He had had an oxygen mask and tube up his nose the entire time I had been there, right eye swollen shut and in crippling pain, a grip in his hand and a corresponding fight in his face the entire time I was there. And now, I saw no pain and a calm. And one last glimmer of his beauty. I was the last one out.

We had a mini-wake Thursday afternoon in Golden Gate Park for my sister, father, and his wife before they had to leave. The weather was gorgeous until 5-ish, when the fog rolled in, which is when it was to end.

My mother left that evening.

Friday night Robin, Zoe, Allen, and I went to the wake his friends had hurriedly put together at "The ranch", a collection of studios in the east end of SF and listened to stories, looked at pictures in a slideshow and assorted activities that people do at a wake. I was struck time and again by the people who shared stories of his compassion and generosity to, in some cases, complete strangers. Those closest to him got burned the most and everyone near him got fire and warmth. One of the most honest, truthful, and thus loving things I heard all night, and I heard many expressions of love that evening, came from someone whose name I regretfully don’t remember, when she said “Just because Jeff is dead doesn’t mean we can’t say he wasn’t an asshole!” He would have loved it.

I was all grins when, when throughout the evening, and indeed, throughout the time I was in S.F., his friends were shocked at how much he and I looked and sounded alike. One friend had to have me turn sideways so she could be reminded of his nose in my profile, which she proceeded to kiss.

Haikus about him and flowers for him were placed throughout the place and music we all recalled him loving was played.

Somewhere out there he is rearranging the ions till they’re as right as he knows they need to be.

I'll have more thoughts to share here, but for now it's time to let this be and go on.

AN OPEN LETTER TO THE CHRISTIAN RIGHT, MITT ROMNEY & MIKE HUCKABEE

2008-01-04T22:18:00.000-08:00

If you’re going to proclaim that you govern based upon your values, I will demand that you define your values and the foundation of your values. Is it the Bible or reason? If it is the Bible, as you have claimed, when an American subscribes to values that are in opposition to those expressed in the Bible will you feel disinclined to support their claim to liberty and human rights as well as equal treatment under the law? Are your religious values superior to their secular values?

We point proudly to the long tradition of tolerance as an aspect of our American legacy; we are a moral people with a deeply ingrained sense of fair play. This is in fact, a legacy, not of our Judeao-Christian foundation, but, in spite of, and even in opposition to the evils of organized religion that were the fallow ground for the enlightenment to germinate.

What is referred to as the Old and New Testament is a deeply paradoxical set of beliefs. The Old Testament, or as you would have it, “The Word of God” is to a large degree, a set of prohibitions, guides, rules and laws that constitute an extortion letter wherein God says “If you don’t do x y and z, you and yours will suffer the consequences: stoning, banishment, total devastation of your land, cities and people, fire and brim stone, eternal damnation to hell etc. (as well as a few juicy, scatological and racy passages that are too obscene to be repeated on the public airwaves lest someone’s delicate sensibilities be offended). On the other hand, if you do these things, you’ll experience the good that I can bestow, it’s your free choice.”

This is in diametric opposition to the Bible 2.0 (the New Testament version of “The Word of God” ) which throws out the whole intimidation factor and says “You have been told that an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. But what I tell you is this; do not resist those who wrong you. If anyone slaps you turn and offer him the other cheek also.” (Matthew 5: 38-39). Instead of smiting your enemy and conducting a campaign of total war, a scorched earth policy, you are now commanded to “Love thy enemy” (Matthew 5:43)

It seems that there are a few bugs to be worked out. The word of God contains some contradictory dictates and as such it doesn’t seem too good for settling differences. It is this very range of interpretations that allows one to selectively pick and choose from a wide array of opinions. As such it is a defacto demonstration of moral relativism, a quality you loudly decry as a cause of this nations moral decay and something endemic to those secular humanists. I would say that is a pretty big plank in your eye (Matthew 7: 3-5).

Either way it makes no difference because your behavior is coerced . They aren’t freely chosen because it is “self evident" but because you want to get into heaven or avoid hell; not simply because it is good to be good, but because of fear. You have to get your guidance from the Bible because you don’t know what is good; it has to be imposed upon you.

Reasoning, on the other hand provides a fairly tried and true method of resolving differences. I, using my “God given” capacity to evaluate my circumstances and arrive at decisions that are in my best interests, am able to behave in a “moral” fashion without the reliance upon a collection of writings gathered up over the course of several centuries by a bunch of highly partisan mortal men with, in some cases, very specific political agendas. I reason, it is “self-evident” that I can best look after my own affairs. I am free. In exchange for not doing whatever I choose to regardless of the consequences, I receive your reassurances that you won’t do whatever you want to regardless of the consequences. This is the essence of what philosophers refer to as the “social contract”. In my case the express name of the social contract is “The Declaration of Independence, The Constitution of the United States of America” and the amendments made to that document referred to as “The Bill of Rights.” These documents were arrived at through the exercise of our “God given” capacity to reason-not a collection of ancient texts of uncertain origin, human constructed, long held, traditional spiritual values that shamelessly assert themselves as truth, the one true faith. It is precisely because the Founding Fathers couldn’t agree upon religious matters that we have the first clause of the first amendment.

For someone to assert that I am not entitled to the same rights that the social contract affords others on the basis of their opinion that that my behavior is “an abomination before God” because it says so in your Bible, well, fuck you. And if you feel that you shouldn’t have to explain to your child why two men are kissing and that you resent me parading my “perversions” in front of your eyes, ramming my “sinful life” and values down your throat with my “homosexual agenda” by demanding that I be treated with respect in the courts, classroom, the field of battle, hospitals and every other arena of the public sphere, fuck you. When you, at every turn decry the decay of morality in our culture and claim threat and fear as your justification for what in effect is a process of dehumanization, fuck you. When you attack, threaten, assault, demean, intimidate, degrade, and kill on the basis of fear and God, fuck you.

When I go into a classroom and see your extortion notes “carved in stone” placed up on the wall as a “moral guide“, you are ramming your value system down my throat, rubbing your values in my face; when I go into the court of law to receive justice and see your values in a position of state sanction in the form of your Ten Commandments, you are rubbing your values in my face. When you prevent me from upholding my end of the social contract by defending my country on the field of battle because of my “immoral behavior” you arerubbing your value system in my face. When you deny me the opportunity to be with and care for some one I am committed to on the basis of your “Judeao-Christian traditional values” as expressed in our legal code you are rubbing your values in my face. If your “faith” commands you and provides you with justification for intolerance, your “opinion” is actively corroding the fabric of the social contract. When one party fails to adhere to the terms of a contract both parties are released from their contractual obligations. The contract is null and void. I will put you in my verbal and intellectual cross hairs to defend my life and liberty. Fuck you.

If, as the gun nuts assert, the second amendment is what makes all of the others possible (specifically the first amendment: rights to free speech, freedom of assembly, freedom of the press, freedom of religion, freedom to petition the government), isn’t that in and of itself all the justification I need for the above arguments? Is it in fact only through the threat of force that all the others are possible? Is this not exactly what your God is doing? Telling all of humanity “Do what I say or else!” It kind of throws all the Christians, (Evangelical, Mormon, Baptist, Catholic, Presbyterian, Episcopalian and every other doctrinarian hair-splitting sects) moral arguments in a weird kinda light doesn’t it? You’re not being moral because it is “self evident” that it is good to be good, you’re doing what you do because of fear. Fear of “eternal damnation”. This is love? Swell guy, that God of yours.

Rights are never given, they are only taken. It is not within anybodies purview to grant me something I am already in possession of. The only thing that can be done is that they can be taken from me, and only then with my consent. By virtue of my humanity I am endowed with “inalienable” rights. To take them from me has the effect of dehumanizing me. Rights exist before government. Government does not grant, bestow or create rights. Rights exist; human beings come together to create a system of government to protect them. That is the function of government. The Presidents role and responsibility is to defend those documents from those, within and without our country, who would attack them. You, Mr. Romney are attacking them. You, Mr. Huckabee, are attacking them. And so is every single person who supports you.

If the Bible, and your selective interpretation and reading of, it is the foundation of your beliefs and values, and you are going to lead this country from that position, you are not fit to govern these United States of America.

The system we have developed in this country has been exceptionally effective at protecting liberty because our cultural foundation was such that there was an understanding that was fairly widely held that we are all ‘created equal and endowed with the rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness’ (in spite of many reasonably effective and enduring efforts on the behalf of kings, ‘holier than thou’ priests, violent thugs and ignorant, self-righteous politicians.) These are in fact, “self-evident” truths. The Judeo-Christian-Islamic tradition believes that we (human beings) were all created in the image of God (I need to point out that they were neither the first nor were they the only religions or cultures to do so) and this basic belief underpins, in many ways even gave birth to, the cultures that allowed the Enlightenment to ferment. It does not follow however that the ideas contained in all their sacred documents are the sound foundations upon which to form a government. Perhaps the enlightenment would not have come to pass were it not for the three monotheistic religious traditions, and with it the American Revolution but we would still have developed morality and reasonable behavior- in spite of faith. Moral behavior is not the exclusive domain of the West or the three great monotheistic traditions, nor is reason. Both are human qualities; any examination of human history makes this abundantly clear.

It can, and has been, very soundly argued that it is precisely the beliefs contained in the Bible that have been responsible for so much of the tragedy that has been European history and more recently the devastating abuses to our environment . (However ,in another example of why the bible is such a bad basis for decision making and a glorious example of the Christian Right’s capacity to rationalize and twist ‘the good book’ it is also now used to justify protecting the environment as well.) Genesis claims that the whole of the earth and everything upon it is for man to use because God made us lord over all, that mankind has the freedom to choose to do anything we want to, good or evil. But ultimately mankind is above it all in a hierarchical sort of way, separate from the natural world. This is what makes it possible to behave with such disregard for the world around us. Additionally, when you see others as less than or not fully human all manner of hideous acts take place. Witness Islamic suicide bombers, witness fundamentalist Christian abortion clinic bombers and assassins, witness slavery (indeed it was the biblical support for slavery that led to the creation of the Southern Baptist Church). When God sanctions your behavior because you are with him, when you’re his chosen people, you can do anything you want, God will back you up because you’re doing as He commanded.

This nation finally abolished slavery because it is morally reprehensible even though your Bible condones it. We do not use the Bible as the basis of our social contract, we use reason.

Your church and its followers, Mr. Huckabee, exercised it’s freedom of choice and liberty to disagree. Are you still in the thrall of those twisted readings of “the good book”?

Your church and it’s followers, Mr. Romney as recently as 1977 discriminated against people of “dark skin”. Are you still in the thrall of those twisted readings as well?

No. Because it is morally reprehensible, in spite if what it say in the Bible.

Are these changes in official religious policies not self- evidently worth doing? Apparently not because you both had to get it from a book of directions, from official authority.

The Bible isn’t grounded in reason; it is an article of faith. Reason and faith-diametrically opposed means of understanding the world around us. To the extent that the Bible is, as I have already said, essentially an extortion letter, it is an embodiment of the same tried and true dynamic that underlies the declaration and constitution; law backed up by the threat of force. You are not behaving in a moral fashion when you use your faith to discriminate against me. Get your ‘values’ out of my face.

Do you have enough respect for me to ‘do unto me as you would have done unto you’?

Yours in democratic enlightenment,

Steve

Why I sign my name here.

2007-12-28T23:33:00.000-08:00

The question of anonymity involves quite a few issues and some of their tendrils reach deep into ones that I struggle with; here is my exploration of them and the answer to the question. Not that too many people seem to wonder about it, but it is important to me. Perhaps this is because it is obvious to a lot of people but I also know many of us are hindered by the dynamic that G.B.Shaw put his finger on so firmly when someone quoted him-“No question is so difficult to answer as that to which the answer is obvious.”. Let me spell out the obvious and otherwise.

In the same way that a convert feels compelled to share their conversion and the depth of their experience with others as well as the insights their transformation has given them, I have had similar revelations, as well as similar compulsions, that have shaped my outlook on life relative to fear and insecurity, the two underlying motives for being hidden.

I knew around the age of 17 that I was attracted to men, and for those of you who seem incapable of wrapping your head around the idea of “bisexuality”, this was long after I had an appreciation of women. Being attracted to men and women was never a contradiction in my mind for I have long had an understanding of the, at times, elusive subtleties and conflicts inherent in life and just how screwed up we, as a society, are, relative to sexuality and our black and white vision. Content with this understanding about myself and still deep in the grip of fear that I learned so very well growing up as a child, I never felt particularly passionate about sharing this with anyone in the larger world.

As my doors of perception opened and I grew up I came to understand just how warped I was from fear, how stunted and misshapen I had become and how, if not stopped, my fear would continue to damage myself and those around me. The cliché of F.D.R.’s is just that because it is so ragingly true- “The only thing we have to fear is, fear itself.” It is the mind killer.

Which is not to say that I am free of it. I continue to struggle with it to varying degrees and for a variety of reasons. However, several years ago, after a relationship was ended it occurred to me that in my new state of solitude it was the appropriate time to start owning the other aspects of my sexuality and was tired of letting the many oppressive voices, both in my head and in society at large, dictate my behavior. The relationship I was in was far from suffocating, but very much guided by the considerations for her comfort and security and as such didn’t feel the desire to come out of the closet; I was out to her and very much satisfied with things the way they were. The new solitude made me aware of how tired I was of being in the closet at the same time though, and I found an object to focus much of the ever present, seemingly congenital anger in me upon-homophobia, as well as all the attendant sickness it is both representative of and that it enables. So out I came with a vengeance, or at least what felt like vengeance.

The liberation I felt is difficult to describe, the change in outlook made so many things clearer. I had cracked through another layer of the petrifaction laid down by childhood, the scales were removed from my eyes.

Around this same time I was in a bicycle accident that resulted in a compound fracture of my lower jaw, a broken face/nose and a severe concussion; that is to say, more physical pain than I had ever experienced in my life. I say that after a previous skull fracture and severe concussion at the age of 5, an assault when I was 17 that left me with 60 stitches in my head and 12 in my back, and another mild concussion. In short, I know physical pain and the bike accident was the worst I have felt.

The point of bringing this experience up is to cast light on an incident that happened a couple of months after I had come out and after the bike accident-a beating at the hands of three skinheads. The details aren’t relevant except that, when asked at the start of it “I’ll bet you’re one of those hippy art fags, aren’t you?”, my reply, which I knew at the time was both the right one and the wrong one was “Yeah, what if I am?” I did this because I knew what real pain felt like, both psychological and physical, and the pain these two-bit losers were capable of inflicting was nothing I hadn’t already known. I did this because I wasn’t going to let homophobia make my decision. I wasn’t going to let their ignorance, insecurity and stupidity make the decisions for me. I wasn’t going to hide or crawl away from their behavior. I was right and they were wrong. It is my life and not theirs. I make the decisions and do so proudly and will get in the face of the vicious, stupid and insecure. I own my feelings, thoughts and behaviors. Fuck the bastards.

I am painfully aware of the potential for negative consequences as a result of simply being myself. I am, more importantly, aware of the negative consequences of yielding to ignorance, stupidity, fear and oppression. Overcoming fear is a visceral as well as a psychological need for me.

Those four qualities, ignorance, stupidity, fear and oppression are destroying my home, my nation, and my world, and are being pursued in a willful calculated approach by many people in this country and indeed by the very people who currently hold the reins of power and their small-minded, virulent, delusional supporters.

My adopting a posture of anonymity condones the very forces and their corrosive behaviors that are ravaging this nation. I will not live in fear. I will not hide. I will not turn the other cheek. I will not ignore the damage being done. I will not facilitate the power they are wielding to destroy the very ideals that we are, nominally at least, killing for. And praying for. And indoctrinating about. And paying for.

At this point in my life and from my point of view, anonymity is wrong. Anonymity is hiding because of fear. Anonymity is avoiding responsibility. Just ask John Hancock and the rest of our hallowed, revered, Founding Fathers.

Now then, having gone on in this righteous, indignant tone, let me share some of the other side of this coin I’m looking at.

Caution is brought about by an understanding of what one has to lose. The risk that life can be at times has made me move in a pretty calculated way and I am loath to lose what I have worked so hard to make in my life. More importantly and perhaps more relevantly to this post, nobody but myself is put in immediate risk by what I do and say, I don’t have that much to lose in an immediate fashion. As such I have a greater degree of liberty or to put this in another light, am less imprisoned by the circumstances I have created for myself.

I have been aware of this for awhile and to some degree, but it was brought to my attention recently in a conversation with a friend. He related to me an experience he had regarding a letter to the editor and a resulting online discussion in which he took someone to task for their out-of-control behavior in a youth sporting event. Someone else reading their exchange wrote to my friend revealing a lot of personal info about where my friend lived, the ages of his children and more with the intention of getting under his skin and wigging him out. And the online thug succeeded, my friend was understandably wigged out and in fact didn’t do anymore posting for awhile. He felt threatened, and justifiably so. His caution was born of his awareness of his responsibility to his family. I understand and respect that. The downside of that choice, however, is a defacto tolerance of socially unacceptable behavior. The threatening freak who took advantage of public trust and my friends assumption of security in our civilized society, crossed a line that is clearly drawn, and got away with it to the extent that he got his twisted kicks from it. My friend owned his action, he accepted responsibility for what he said , felt, and thought by signing his name. And was put in jeopardy for it by someone who used the anonymity the ’net provides to evade responsibility for his (or her) ugliness.

I have said, and will continue to say, some pretty inflammatory, impassioned things on this blog and do so in the belief that there are some people out there who are thoughtful and reflective enough to take what I say at face value and gain some insight into those who disagree with them. I am doing so with the understanding that I am taking a risk from some of the very same people who pose a greater risk to society and the values that this nation is founded upon. We protect free speech, not so we can be nice to one another, but so we can call people out on their stupidity, bullshit and just plain wrong-headedness. We also protect our right to be rude to one another in the belief that through discussion of these difficult divisive subjects arrive at a sensible reasoned coexistence with one another, and with this insight develop “a more perfect union”. I also believe that people tend to behave as they are treated, to rise or fall to the expectations placed before them. I am demanding intelligence because I think we’re intelligent people, please don’t prove me wrong. Be nice or you may come to understand in a fairly painful difficult fashion why it is important to do so.

Our faith and trust in one another is the baseline of our “domestic tranquility” and the social contract. We have a responsibility to one another, and I willfully, even joyfully accept that- I will not tolerate living in fear of those who do not. Neither should anyone else.

Signed in passion, anger, love and pride,

John Steven Holmes

Bifurcation

2007-12-26T12:04:00.000-08:00

As of yesterday, X-mas, I have a new blog-OnGrowing Art. It hit me at about 3:00AM that this is what I need to do, rather than, the hard way, which would have been struggling to get the money to pay down the credit card to get Lithicvision.com up on Microsoft Live Office. I know it's only $5.00 to pay the one-time registration fee but when your card is a bit beyond maxed out it isn't just $5.00, but anyway, enough kvetching about money.
As is almost always the case the hindsight is clear, and once again I feel a little sheepish for not "getting it" for so long. Ah well, the climb up the learning curve that is life continues.
The enthusiasm I'm feeling makes linear thought a challenge (as it can so often be it seems) and there is so much more to be done. Oddly enough this separation of the business from the personal already feels so much clearer and simplifying; I'll be able to a better job with each than I could with just this one. Clarity and focus, such good things.

Self absorbtion or self description?

2007-11-19T19:27:00.000-08:00

You know, the more I contemplate what I’m doing with this site, the more I realize just how uncertain I am about things. So much of what I have to say seems so self-absorbed, so self-important. But, at the same time I seem to pull a thread through it all that makes it pertinent to a bigger picture(at least to me). Another aspect of the democratization that this tool facilitates; we can all say something. Part public diary (perhaps an oxymoron), part platform to proclaim- “I believe this. Engage me.” A large part of this is the fact that I am a fairly quiet, self-contained person, not terrifically social or talkative. I do feel passionate about some things (quite a few really) however, and so here we are. It seems that I’m sharing what I am about myself on this site in the belief that what I have to say is so deeply interconnected with my art and politics that I don’t know where to draw the line, or to what degree a distinction needs to be drawn- the personal is political.

Clearly I’m not a writer, and the rather oblique fashion I take is pretty indicative of an absence of formal education. I, like so many other people in this life, am engaged in on the job training. I’m wanting to recall a quote of Noam Chomsky that a friend mentioned; something about (I’ll parabutcher here) “Never has there been more opportunity to get an education than right now, you just won’t get it at a university.”

I’ll, for now, lay things down in the following format- (having the heart of a poet, as someone whom I respect told me once. Not a poet, just the heart of one.) who, what, why, when, and how. If you’re wondering where the where is? The glorious Sonoran desert (except for a short, extremely important spell in that unsustainable conglomeration called El Lay).

Who am I? The label I was given, which is derived from my family’s past, is John Steven Holmes. A human being, and according to the systemic structure that rational thinking has developed over the last few centuries, Homo sapiens. The Latin root sapiens means wise, to have discriminating taste, to be sensible. Who I am is born of my senses; I am, and we, this species, are sensible. Although, perceiving the things going on around me I wonder if it isn’t time to reassess this description. I was born August 25th, 1964. I am not a fixed, static state but a perpetually changing being, and as such, this could be a long list of adjectives that will continue to grow. I am an artist, I am a frosting maker on the cake of society. And lest you question the value of the arts, ask yourself, which do you prefer, cake with or without frosting? And how much more will you pay for that?

What do I do? I make the things that come into my mind. I respond to the feelings that arise from my perceptions that in turn modify my definitions of myself. The answer is contingent upon the question, or rather the statement-“I am”- dissatisfied with my surroundings, I will change the stimulus to create a state of satisfaction. This is also modified by when I have done what I have done.
Why do I do what I do? Because I am dissatisfied with my state of being and the conditions that shape my perceptions.
When have I done things? The answer to that question is an extensive list of actions laid out in a chronological fashion, that for many people contribute to the definitions, the answer to the question of who I am. To those of you who might like a bit more, I’ll post what passes for my c.v. soon.And you can bet I'll have a lot of poetic fun with that one as well.
How do I do that which I have done and will do? Answer-technical training and accumulated experiences that have provided me with insight into the nature of material reality and the means of manipulating those materials to satisfy my needs.
So much for the playful/poetic approach. In this world, if I want to wear the label of “Artist” as a professional, I find it funny that a segment of our society that has a history of breaking with convention can be so goddamned static and utterly rigid, so uncompromising in its expectations of presentation, format and formality. I try to play the game most of the time, but sometimes I like to test the load bearing limits of the “rules”; how far do they bend before they break?
An artists statement is a bit of all of what I have been so loquaciously pouring out; an expression of why I do what I do, a little bit of what I do, how I do what I do. I guess the when is what is in a c.v..

My philosophy of art, of aesthetics, is also one of healing, of filling the void, of first identifying the unmet need that drives us all. I believe that all of us, everywhere, do what we do because we believe it to be, at some level (usually unknown to us though) good for us; it resolves something inside us. A friend told me once that we all have holes in us that we need filled, it’s just that what we use to fill those holes doesn’t always fit; it may feel good, but that doesn’t mean it fits.

For now, simply put-I make beauty. The next question might be- “What is beauty?” Setting that one aside for a moment, the drive to creation needs to be addressed first. I make something in response to an absence. I don’t make something I already have; the experiential baseline is that of -not beautiful. I’m not saying ugly; that is something altogether different, although I honestly haven’t given it much thought. The baseline is a negative, not having that which I desire. Where does this desire to make come from? An absence, a void, a dissatisfaction, a negative.

I am- a reality modifier, one who engages in action in response to my perceptions, my sensations that allow me to discriminate between my senses according to the quality of those perceptions and the effect those sensations have upon my state of being. My reality is-( fill in the blank). Your actions will follow from that description. What you do depends upon how you feel, literally upon your perceptions, your physical sensitivity to your surroundings. How you describe your reality will inform how you behave. To be sensitive is to be more fully human. The degree to which we are sensitive is the degree to which we are humane. To perceive in a discriminating fashion is to be human. Sensitivity is contingent upon awareness, cognition. I think, therefore I am. My reality is that which I perceive. What I perceive is subject to my actions. I am a doer, I engage in action, I am an actor. Am I what I do?

Cracking the whip over my own head

2007-11-16T20:19:00.000-08:00

Lawd-a-mighty, give me the time and energy to find my voice and shout it out loud!
Again I'm struck by the dynamic qualities of this blog thing; I'll get over it soon, or not, and just continue the feeling coming over me. Reading a lot of other blogs recently, I'm humbled by the wealth of brilliance and stunned at the same time by just how many stupid people there are. How much weirdness can this planet hold?
I've concluded that this soapbox should be, just that, so look for more passion, hyperbole, and a good dose of my best efforts at articulate thought about whatever comes to mind. When enough cash crosses my palms to pay down my credit card I'll be able to get Lithicvision.com up and running; in the mean time I'm just gonna howl (or whimper, as need be). Starting with some general observations I have made in the past; I just need to get these things out there.
I haven't done much of my own ruminating (that is to say writing/thinking on paper) for several months and was going over the older things that, at the time, seemed reasonable. As I reread them in hopes of posting some I see just how many things need to be tweaked. Events come and go and much of what I wrote to just get it out of my head seems so topical and...not very contemporary but I am modifying them to put up here and have what follows for a start. DISCLAIMER: this is a little stiff and has been done to be clear in my own head at least as much as for public consumption. I also like playing with words and being full of myself sometimes.
While it seems that some of the wind has gone from the sail of the far right god thugs, I need to get this first declaration out there. Another DISCLAIMER: ANY REFERENCES TO, OR DIRECT STATEMENTS OF VIOLENCE ARE THEORETICAL AND ABSTRACT. THEY ARE WORDS NOT ACTIONS. Rhetoric has its place and with words being the most powerful creation of humanity, I will do my best to use them judiciously and with an awareness of the consequences. Indeed it is with this understanding that I choose the words I do, they are the most effective means of expressing my passion and, however loosely constructed they my be, my philosophical beliefs. I'm not an academic I just like to flex my verbal/mental muscles sometimes. I may regret somethings sometimes but, as the Butthole Surfers said, via the Red Hot Chili Peppers-It's better to regret something you did, than something you didn't do.
Now- 1...2...3...GO
A PATRIOTIC DEMOCRAT
In light of the Christian rights’ concerted efforts to disenfranchise me, as a human being with a predisposition to loving people regardless of their gender, I feel compelled to define a few terms being bandied about of late. This is directed at those of you under the aforementioned umbrella who demonstrate the capacity to think and reflect (and I know you‘re out there); the rest of you, well, you’re too fucking stupid to reason with, so forget it.
One of the words flying about: patriotism. I’ll include here associated words and phrases such as “love of country”, “good American”, and the like. The definition in Webster’s Tenth-patriot: one who loves his or her country and respects its authority and interests. My country, ‘tis of thee, land of liberty, land that I love. What more than words do I give, how do you know its not just glib sophistry, words. Since the implication is that you don’t respect me enough to take my words, what else do I have to do? How do I prove to you that I love my country? And better yet that I respect its authority and interests? What credentials are required of me to be a patriot? Let me ask you a question. Does your questioning of my words imply that you don’t have enough respect for me to take me at my word?
My country, where I was born; yep, I really dig the place I call home, it’s pretty fucking great in fact and I’m really tired of unaccountable and irresponsible greedy bastards taking everything they can get their bloody little hands on and poisoning the space that we all share in the process. And that’s not just corporations but most of us, we’re all responsible for this place but some of us are dirtier than others. I’m sick and tired (in some cases literally) of “shareholders” who are too fucking stupid to understand that we all have a stake in how this ship sails, not just the ones with the most money. It’s my air, my water, my land also, quit fucking it up for your goddamned money, or better yet because your god gave it to you to do as you please. My country, the place organized around the Declaration and Constitution? The “idea” of my country as opposed to the more mundane and tangible “land”? The idea that we are all equal and thus endowed with the same things as one another by virtue of our common humanity? Specifically rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness? That the role of government is to secure these qualities that we all have in common from those that would prevent us from exercising our liberty? That it only does what it does for me, on my behalf, with my agreement, and indeed that its’ only claim to legitimacy is because I have agreed to let it do so, it lies in my consent to be governed. If that same government ceases to do that, it is in fact my duty to change that dynamic and stop it from alienating me from my nature which is predisposed to liberty. I will absolutely trumpet my love of those ideas, I love my country.
Do I respect its authority? Since it exists for me, by my consent, since its authority comes from my willingness to be governed, it seems to me that question is kinda silly.
Respect it interests? A nation built upon self-interest, not king and cleric. It is up to me to determine what is in my best interests. Why would I not love a country like that? How rational, how reasonable! How enlightened!
We can all get together and decide what is the best course for this organization of humanity. If you don’t want to listen to me, take my thoughts into consideration, in this organization, you can’t tell me what to do. If you expect me to listen to you I expect you to do the same. If your religious beliefs dictate that I be excluded from this agreement, we don’t have a democracy, we have a theocracy. I don’t feel very patriotic towards a theocracy that thinks I am not endowed with the same qualities as you. Patriotism in America means valuing equality, not your religious beliefs. Democracy trumps religion every time. I’ll say it again- When it doesn’t we don’t have democracy we have theocracy. My equality beats your religion; I do value my secular agreement over and above your small-minded exclusionary religious beliefs. I can’t help it if you insist on distorting, twisting and misunderstanding my beliefs into something you feel justified in beating me over the head with. Secular humanism is not my religion no matter how much you insist in ignoring what I’ve said to the contrary; I do place my well being and reasoned choices above any religious doctrine. To do contrary is to deny my humanity, or as you might put it to deny how god made me, and god doesn’t make mistakes does she? (oops, there I go again, playing around with gender) Wouldn’t it be sacrilegious of me to believe otherwise? To go against the wishes and will of my creator?
I have a duty, a responsibility to stand up to when you are being disagreeable, when you are telling me to do something that is contrary to my happiness. Together we can reach an agreement to, if nothing else, stay the hell out of each others faces because doing that is better that the alternative, unless you have so little respect for me to even do that (stay out of my face). Let me tell you first however that you are the one trying to tell me how to live my life. I’m not telling you how to live your life. My agenda is one of equality and respect, because I know you’re human and subject to all that that entails. In fact it is in my best interests to treat you that way; people who are respected are more likely to behave with respect. Make no mistake on this count however. When you break your agreement to treat me as you wish to be treated I will no longer uphold any obligations to your life liberty and happiness and gladly send you on your way to heaven, after all, a much better place than what we have here, huh? I will not let you take my country from me even if that means treating you in a fashion that is contrary to the ideals I am trying to uphold. You have agreed to not agree with me. There are consequences for your acts just as there are for everyone.

Yeah, some of what I just said is kinda ugly. Anger is a pretty ugly thing, but it is real and won't be denied. Deal. We, Americans have been doing some pretty ugly things all over the place. Some of us even think it is our "God-given right" to do so. I'm not including myself in that group specifically, but it is a phrase that could use some parsing. Another post some time.
To clarify some things about myself for those of you who need labels to sort things out I'll give a few ideological short cuts. I'm not an anarchist, I'm not a Libertarian, I'm not a gun nut. I am a registered Democrat (although for the record I think we really have one party in this country, the business party that has two wings- Dems and that other bunch). I am an Eagle Scout (to the extent that provides me with some measure, in some peoples eyes, with more "patriot" cred. The BSA has disavowed any claim to legitimacy in my eyes as far as their policy of exclusion is concerned. Again, some other post, some other time.) I was even an Assistant Scout Master for a brief time. If pressed to restrict my religious beliefs down to a label, painful though that is, I would pick Buddhist,(or Hindu, or...) I don't like to simplify things much, life isn't always that way and my thoughts certainly aren't.

Time for a split?

2007-09-29T00:30:00.000-07:00

Another dawning realization is that I may need two blogs; one a professional/business site to avoid scaring people away and another for everything that can be scary.
One of the issues that keep coming up is the overlap between the two realms that do in fact overlap. Art is personal, at times very intimate. Business, at least in a traditional sense, is weighted with the expectations of PROFESSIONALISM. While I’m sure many others have explored this issue in more depth and clarity, and with more eloquence than I, it is my reality now and my head is hard enough to run into this issue and not be traumatized, so here we are. I pride myself in my tendency and capacity to behave in unconventional ways and this is to a measure some of the excitement I feel about this new medium, electrons as fluid as paint, as potent as words, as impermanent as wind, and solid as a rock. Business is done differently now, social interactions are different; the cliché true- we’re in a brave new world, the old rules are changing. Having said that I, for reasons I learned a few years ago, feel the need to be a bit conservative. Which is at odds with the drive to embrace the liberty that gives birth to the new and manifests my passion. Really, the age old conflict between order and freedom, another set of ideas I need to pour forth about, and here is the crystallization of the issue. When my art is an exploration of these very ideas, (largely in my head at this point) how do I go about separating the strands in a practical fashion. I have been told and have read that the best business comes from a personal relationship with one’s client. How personal is too personal? Does the person simply wanting to buy something beautiful(that I do so well) when coming to my site need to be linguistically assaulted by some rant about how appallingly corrosive the Republican liar squad is on our body politic. About sexual liberty in the land of the free, now terrified? And then the struggle over whether I want to do business with people I don’t like or the delight I feel in taking their money. The need to behave with integrity towards my own values of respect and decency, knowing that the world I want to live in and create is one of respect for others and myself, and being honest with my own feelings and clear about the damage done to that same integrity when I tolerate disrespect from people who, to be perfectly honest, have utter contempt for “faggots like me” (for the record and so as not to confuse people-I'm bisexual- neither gay nor straight). I will pour out these ideas in my own words and art; but it is also business. To be honest and true when that same honesty is overwhelming and uncomfortable, there's a challenge. Art can harness this passion and I can make a living at it because I do it well. Caveat emptor.
Another note I need to stick in here is something a friend told me a few years ago that I wish I had been told as a child, and maybe the single most important lesson I have ever learned. There are only two things every single human has to do in this world. First-Make your own decisions, nobody can do that for you. Second-Live by the consequences.

A smile so big

2007-09-25T00:26:00.000-07:00

I am childlike in the dawning amazement about the scope and nature of the changes this new engine (blog is such a clumsy, inelegant word) is enabling. Yet another awakening is occurring. The number of needs and desires this is addressing in me is transformational. Podium/soapbox/storefront/laboratory/gallery/publishing house and more, and it has been in front of me all this time! I feel a little sheepish for having had the potential in my grasp for so long and to not have known the possibilities. Certainly not the first time I have undergone something this profound, and how lucky (is blessed too strong a word?) am I to experience it again?! No excuse for failing to bloom; I am empowered.
I’m tempted to pop my brain in a stream-of consciousness mess all over this screen but won’t quite now, or perhaps ever. A need for discipline regarding this mode of communicating is pretty self-evident to me. But so much passion and an acute awareness of how short our time can be… I want to make my fire burn for a long time.

Homo Novus

2007-09-24T00:37:00.000-07:00

Here I am at the beginning of a whole new adventure in my life and trying not to engage in too many birth cries; I'm a little overwhelmed and getting my bearings. Kinda like learning to breath in a new atmosphere you could say. In the same way that a newborn isn't going to be any kind of a conversationalist, for the moment I'm going to just be quiet for now. I just had to do this first.