(Inspired by and “written with” the aid of Natalie Portman’s brilliance)
I lost myself in you
Consumed by the purity
Purity held, lost, convinced of
Who are you
Who am I
The sheltering womb consumed
Fragile lies unreachable dreams
Devouring the mind, spirit and whole
I lost me in you
In me
In this
As I reach
And grasp
Hold for all to see what I’ve attained
But what is real
But what is me
What is this
And I die
Wrapped in the blood of
Perfection’s duplicity
Copyright SGW 2010
Note:Who/what devours Nina?Is it the controlling, slightly demented mother?Is it her own innocence at war with the hunger of her just out of her grasp/within reach dream?Is it something inside her too in opposition with itself to live after it is discovered?
Note:I wrote this with uncontrolled passion.It was completed instantly.I was left exhausted and needing to re-find myself upon completing this piece.
Many have Christmas for holiday cheer And Jews with Menorahs hold Hanukkah dear The rest of us empty of our own special day Until Frank Costanza, non-conformed, led the way Festivus, Festivus, the day he devised Four major pieces, you should be so advised A Festivus Pole stands erect, unadorned “Tinsel distracts me,” as Frank has since warned Airing of Grievances would begin dinner plans The disappointment in loved ones is heard by demands “I’ve got a lot of problems with you people,” Frank’d angrily spit And all ‘round the table, “Now you will hear about it!” Then holiday supper does, of course, have its role Feats of Strength are required for the night to be whole If Festivus strikes you as especially clever Make checks to “The Human Fund,” a “Money for People” endeavor
Out in the whispers of wishful relent Soothed by the seasons in offered consent Seeds of forgiveness will open the heart Fog falls to tinker with unconscious part Keep at a distance until left all alone No call to reason’d forever atone Sit with me, linger and hold tight my hand Love knows its limits as drops of the sand
When listening to Molly Venter's "Love Me Like You Mean It," one is taken by the passion of a woman who is clearly "all in." Whether it is in loving, self-evaluation or simply life's dance, Molly Venter conveys her pursuit of life with unquenchable fire. Wear gloves when handling "Love Me Like You Mean It," because it is hot to the touch.
I came across Molly Venter in her new role as the third member of the Appalachia/Bluegrass trio Red Molly, who I have followed from their inception. Rather than discussing Ms. Venter's fit (perfect) within the trio, I will save those words for their hopefully next CD release.
Molly Venter's alluringly, sensual voice grips the listener immediately and never lets go. Have no fear; you will want nothing but to stick around.
Venter opens with "Shaky Ground," an introspective springboard to what is to come. Venter is clearly giving thought to who she is and might become. We can all relate, but few dig so deep and honestly as "I've been stepping on landmines and running straight into things. Now I am broken down, I am broken up, and there's no one to save me."
But maybe there is.
In "Happier Now," Ms. Venter's self-effacement - "My lips are thing/My legs are not so thin" - serves as a path to acceptance of self. I will save myself by being who I am ... and that is all right.
Molly Venter cuts straight to the heart often here. On "Love Me Like You Mean It" she is "not holding back" with her love and expects the same in return. This longing is further reflected in the impassioned desire of "Playing For Keeps." Venter always does.
And Ms. Venter is willing to laugh at her love tribulations, too. In "Tonight," she is tripping over herself, defensive and unsure. While she sings, "You like giving me hell just to see me react," one thing is guaranteed - react, she will. Could someone with such fire not do so?
In "Good Mother" and "Playing For Keeps," Venter puts forth need, fragility and longing. She is a mixture of strengthened confidence and scarred and struggling traveler. As she says on "Real Anymore," "I am this body, but I'm not. I am a walking paradox."
Yes, Molly, perhaps you are. But when Molly Venter sings and speaks to us, we are grateful for each contradiction. "Love Me Like You Mean It" is something to be thankful for, too. A great collection of songs will take you down a path of emotional passion few artists can match.
Down near the water where the world slips away Beside whispering cattails ‘neath the sunny-sky’d day Ducks on the current gently swim in their row Frog in the tall grass with his trumpeted blow As I lie on the dock, feel a nature’s cool breeze From within all my core I’m completely at ease Deer on the meadow lightly nibble the green Bear and her cubs walk along down the stream Eyes drift to clouds that are puffy and soft Hawk smoothly glides on the winds blown aloft Hear the sweet water of the timeless, drawn lake I will lie in this spot for as long as I’ll take
The voice of the teabagger is a voice often loud With the signs of misspelling and the racism proud Don’t know the issues that they’re too fool to learn They will storm and unravel all that’s good by a turn Strings pulled by wealthy; the big business elite To “take back the guvmint” is the goal they would meet
For who needs tax fairness Or Wall Street contained And healthcare for all Righteous goals since obtained A mess of their making Economic decay Depression averted Yet they ask a replay
An undercurrent of hatred cannot mask true intent The far right wing mantra of a fearful relent “Take back our country “ truly translates the pitch Yet it’s not to what’s better, but rather white, Christian, rich The worst of our nation with a small-minded vision They feed on unknowing’s misinforming, revision Of destructive contempt for any leaders who’d think The teabagger movement wears Republican stink
So, I went into Sloan Kettering yesterday for my yearly post-testicular cancer check which involves a chest x-ray, blood work and testicle grab, and all is fine for another year there (11 1/2 years now). However, I have taken PSA's for a while and it was 1.3 in 2008, 1.56 in 2009 and 2.3 this month. I was concerned with the degree of increase, so I figured since I was seeing the best in the field anyway, why not have it checked?
My doctor sends in one of his underlings first. Needless to say, when I told him about the PSA's, I got the highly dreaded prostate exam. He said all seemed ok, but he called in the main doctor, Dr. Sheinfeld. Dr. Sheinfeld also gave me the prostate exam ( I felt like I had cheated on the first guy) and said everything felt normal. He said PSA's can rise for a million reasons and we could check the levels again in a few months or, while I was there anyway, I could get it biopsed and than not have the unknowns.
I agreed, so bring on Dr. Sandha, who performs prostate biopsies at MSK. I went into the room where the procedure is done and got ready. Step 1 was an ultrasound of my prostate by a technician, which is even more unpleasant than the prostate exam. That lasts about 5 minutes (Or what felt like a week to me!). Then Dr. Sandha comes in and injects me, yes in there, too, with Lidocaine to numb the area. There is a slight burn and pinch, but no big deal. After waiting about 5 to 10 minutes, still laying completely exposed as to hind quarters mind you, he comes back in and has a device that injects you and removes a sample of the prostate - about 15 times!!! Oh, and the sound and feeling is sort of like a stapler (though not that painful). I asked if he was stapling me shut!
Needless to say, far too many things were being jammed up my ass, especially since I am not a fan of having ANYTHING jammed up my ass!! I want a tattoo now, yes, on my ass, that says, "Exit Only."
After I peed, I was allowed to leave. I had to wear a pad, though, as there could be some bleeding. At this point, fortunately, there has been no blood in my urine, and only minimal, and expected, blood from the rear exit, which stopped by the next morning. I am on Cipro to avoid infections, which also will allow me to open any letters with anthrax.
The bummer is I have to wait a week to find out if I now have prostate cancer!! Didn't I fill my cancer quota already!? Hopefully, the PSA's went up for some unknown reason. Even a good biopsy, though, will likely have me getting PSA's more frequently to monitor it.
Nothing like the cancer specter hanging over your head for a week ... while you bleed out of your ass and wear women's liners.
Oh, and I should note that Dr. Sandha and his staff were fantastic. They were professional, thorough and minimized any pain. It also goes without saying that I trust Dr. Sheinfeld completely and have full faith in how he treats me as a patient.
Update: Today is Tuesday, September 28, 2010, and the doctors both called from MSK with the good news - no cancer. I will continue to monitor my PSA's, but am glad to hear the positive report.
Some interesting additional observations: 1. I do not know if it was the distraction of bleeding for a few days, the high cure rate for prostate cancer, a strong positive attitude now from years of hard experiences, or complete faith in great doctors, Sandha and Sheinfeld, but I was never panicked during this process. There was a relative calm that I would be ok no matter what and could deal with things. It is nice to know I have more inner strength than I had realized.
2. I want to re-iterate what fantastic doctors both Dr. Sheinfeld and Dr. Sandha are. I joked a lot about the biopsy above, and it was hardly a fun time, but Dr. Sandha did a remarkable job. It seems as though there are no complications for starters. Also, while aspects of the procedure were uncomfortable, it was not painful. The stapler stuff mentioned above was more a pressure combined with a creepy sound than anything else. No one should fear the procedure if done by a doctor as good as Dr. Sandha.
As for Dr. Sheinfeld, I can honestly say that I have 100% faith in the man. I trust his judgment, skill and knowledge, and I believe that was a major factor in my remaining calm throughout this process. I knew he would be taking care of me. Both Dr. Sheinfeld and Dr. Bosl, who I originally dealt with, are also great doctors because they talk to you like you are a human, in fact, like you are their friend. This goes a long way!! There are a lot of doctors, I am speaking to you William Kohlberg, who could learn quite a bit from the bedside manners of Drs. Sheinfeld and Bosl.
3. One of the things you cannot do have a prostate biopsy is have sex for two weeks. My thought on that was that it was nice to have an excuse for a change. :-)
4. I posted this entire story, as well as the other three cancer-related postings you can view down the right-hand column for a reason. I hope others read these stories and gain some solace, understanding, knowledge, and, also, appreciation for the necessity of taking care of yourself, seeing doctors when something is wrong and not pretending there is nothing wrong when something is. Here I have posted on this website about testicles, anal bleeding, prostate biopsies, and so forth, so throw the stigmas out the window, would you!? Talk openly about stuff, don't be afraid and get or be well.
Where the clothing of expectation illy fit An outcast self-made I can walk alone And do
Seem as society’s freak Dancing to the drumbeat of the land’s rhythms I will risk all to find all And do
This is me This is us Listen I am home I am free
In the freedom comes understanding And home is not so far away Or confining now
As death takes me Vision clears to fulfillment and peace I can close these eyes having lived And do
Copyright SGW 2010
Footnote: Inspired by John Krakauer’s book “Into the Wild” and Chris McCandless’s journey to life. This author would note that the poem should not be misconstrued as a calling to anyone to put their life at risk in the way that McCandless did. There are better ways to grow, learn and experience. Careful consideration, caution and wise steps are recommended.
I’ve just finished “reading” fourteen novellas in the last couple of hours. That would be – I have listened to George Wirth’s “The Last Good Kiss” from beginning to end for the first time. Surely, anyone who has fallen into a Wirth song knows that each one is a soft chair, reading light and cherished book containing stories that take the mind to distant and imagined sanctuaries.
Wirth’s second full-length album, following “The Lights of Brigantine,” is another instant classic. His music is like that heavenly piece of land that we wish we could share with a million others, yet we are equally happy to keep this warm place somewhat hidden and reserved for those who will truly appreciate what we have here.
“The Last Good Kiss” is a compilation of Wirth’s observations of life’s struggles, tales and loves. From his dark tome to Asbury Park, “Memorial Drive,” to his subtle love song hidden behind images of Jesus Christ walking on water, “Weight of Sin,” Wirth takes us down long and winding paths that lose time and place as we turn each wonderful page.
On this effort, Wirth has brought some talented friends along for the weaving of his webs. We are graced by the fiddle of Amanda Shires (“The Last Good Kiss” and “In Your Arms”), the dobros of Abbie Gardner (Make You My Home – backing vocals, too) and Jim McCarthy (“Dreamland”) , Gardner again on lap steel (“Power Lines”), and the elusive Janey Todd (writer and co-vocals on “Dreamland). What is most interesting about these contributions comes from the sense that what each artist has brought to the songs has always been there. Each accompaniment is reserved, harmonious and comfortable in its place, as if walking side by side perfectly with Wirth’s guitar and lyrics.
“The Last Good Kiss” is also graced with some of the best songwriter found this side of Bob Dylan and Bruce Springsteen. Wirth’s aforementioned “Weight of Sin” and Todd’s “Dreamland” stand up to anything the two legends could pen. The aching “The Last Good Kiss,” the conflicted “Water on Water” and the photogenic “Easter” are other extraordinary examples of writing brilliance.
George Wirth is an artistic magician. With the help of some incredibly talented people, he has crafted an album that is required for anyone who wants to say they have the best music on their shelves. I would say more, but I am going to sit quietly and listen some more now.
George Steinbrenner died the other day. I would offer my condolences to his family if I knew them. I did not wish him the illnesses he apparently endured the last 5 to 7 years of his life and I did not wish him death.
As an owner, you would have to call his tenure a success from a winning point of view because how many owners can say they won 7 world championships? He could also be credited for his aggressive pursuit of free agents such as Reggie Jackson, Catfish Hunter and Goose Gossage. However, the 1977 and 1978 championships were also a product of Steinbrenner allowing Gabe Paul to do his job a bit more than GM's would be allowed later on. Paul brought in guys like Chris Chambliss, Willie Randolph and Ed Figueroa, and he refused to trade Ron Guidry.
The championships of the late 90's were, to a degree, a product of a more disengaged approach by Steinbrenner, the result of his only recently being reinstated by Fay Vincent from a suspension. That somewhat hands off approach allowed Gene Michael to build around Bernie Williams, Mariano Rivera, Derek Jeter, etc..., Who knows how many of them would have been traded away during Steinbrenner tantrums, which happened regularly during the 80's and early 90's, when Steinbrenner was most involved in the team, and the team was mostly an over-priced, under-achieving mess. It would be easy to say that had Steinbrenner not been suspended for his shenanigans with Howie Spira, the 4 titles from 1996 to 2000 might never have happened.
But someone could look at my comments on Steinbrenner and say, "Well, Scott, you hate the Yankees, so you are just jealous." Forgetting the fact, that MOST Yankees fans wanted Steinbrenner gone from the early eighties through the mid nineties, I will tell you why I am bothered by all this ridiculous aggrandizement of George Steinbrenner. As a boss he was an abuser and a bully. No, he was not a "tough boss." He tortured his employees and was cruel and, yes, an abuser. Read Bill Madden's "Steinbrenner," or today's NY Times piece by Dave Anderson, and you will see what I mean.
I worked for an abusive prick for a long time, and my health suffered tremendously. This hits close to home for me. I don't give a shit that Steinbrenner was mean to millionaire ballplayers. But he was a bastard to the regular people working in the offices and I can only imagine how much physical and emotional damage he did to countless people over the years.
So, Yankees fans can revel in the titles of 1977, 1978, 1996, 1998, 1999, 2000, and 2009. You deserve to do so. But, you give a guy too much credit considering had he had his way, you likely would not have had many of those championships. And, worse, despite a fairly sizable amount of charitable activity in his life, nothing makes up for being a serial abuser of your employees and anyone else you had power over. Trust me; I've been there.
My sympathies to the Steinbrenner family for their loss. But the rest of us should stop pretending George Steinbrenner was much more than he was.
Sweet scented honeysuckle Alluring and alive With effervescent charm You captivate Invading the senses With dreams of timeless imaginings Breathe in Breathe in Such beautiful fragrance Breathe in Breathe in Permeating to my core
The Macabee princes who have stood ‘gainst the wall
No longer the timid of indignity’s call
Imperfections abounding by unsettling choice
Extremisms flourish in a far too right voice
And religion’s illusion grown apart from God’s word
Devoutness as pretence to round up the herd
Yet still admiration for the self-made great land
Israel as Zion since arisen from sand
These children of Israel are heroically bold
With a secular bonding the connection takes hold
Copyright SGW 2010
Commentary: I have rarely felt the need to have extensive remarks attached to a poem. However, this piece feels different. First, I should mention that this poem is based on the two Herman Wouk books, “The Hope” and “The Glory.” They have inspired me deeply with a desire to visit Israel.
They have also made me feel a need to distinguish between following Judaism as a religion and being Jewish as a people apart from organized religion. And that is what a large part of this poem’s message is. Early on, it speaks to the falseness of organized religion; the man-made creation used to formalize thought and action, which I feel is a device of those in power to control those who are not.
The poem then goes on to speak to the amazing accomplishments of the people of Israel – forming a nation surrounded by those that would destroy them after barely surviving the cauldron of NAZI-ism, creating a vibrant and lively society and economy from a desert wasteland and building a military that could protect all that they have given rise to.
The poem mentions Israel’s failings, too. The “unsettling choice” is the short-sighted and wrongheaded decision to build settlements in the West Bank and east Jerusalem that will be hard to dismantle and undo. Much of the difficulty lies in my original theme of religion’s extremism. These settlements, more than anything else that Israel controls, are an obstacle to Middle East peace. They have also damaged the moral rightness of Israel’s cause and position.
Without the settlements, there would be no legitimate claim that Israel in any way is the obstructing factor to peace. Taken out of the equation, the reasons for a lack of peace in the Middle East are all on the shoulders of the Arab nations. Their unwillingness to recognize Israel’s right to exist and of giving ground on military assurances to provide for that right, their stubborn resistance to removing the Hamas/Hezbollah presence, their promotion of an unreasonable right of return (that will need to be exchanged for financial compensation that Arab nations should be major contributors to), and the despotic rulers of their own countries with no exceptions are far more the cause of the circumstances in the Middle East than any Israeli positions.
In summation, this poem expresses love of Israel, despite its flaws, and a bond with the Israeli people that I feel as someone born a Jew. It hints at my previously versed views on organized religion, but with a belief that religion’s failings can be separated from a nationalist’s pro-Israeli sentiments.
