dear diary

 Well, it’s true, I do feel a weigh off my psyche; left good final message, phone machine of muse, and feel at peace. And today I happened to start going through old photos and found a number of myself, young. I’ve always been a monster; a monster in the sense that if you weren’t an artist fighting for truth, ok.

Check out this title on Audible

My Autobiography
By Charles Chaplin, David Robinson - introduction
Narrated by Steve John Shepherd

Listen on Audible:
https://www.audible.com/pd/B09SGTYWWD?source_code=ASSORAP0511160006&share_location=player_overflow


Sent from my iPhone

dear diary

 I think it's finally over; been many, many years, but pretty sure it is. I'd hoped to demonstrate my value to someone, but they'e just not into it for whatever reason. It was that episode where seeing someone local who embodied the traits and characteristics of my muse, and how I failed to initiate contact, and how I was utterly perplexed, knowing it wasn't my muse but someone with a similar life experience, and how I froze up, and then see that same person a couple days later, totally randomly. And I really started to think about it, and today, driving without registration to get to my PO Box to get a desperate check, ready to sell the hell out of any deputy or officer who happened to pull me over--and I just said--you know what dude Even though there are still things uncanny and unexplained, you really were never meant to be with her. Just hope she's got a good seat to watch the end of civilization as we knew it, and maybe yet I'll prove all doubts, though well-founded, incorrect.

dear diary

 just like I can't believe all the things that have happened about me and to me and because of me, I can't believe how that recent stint teaching art taught me how to teach art. mr. toad? mr. magoo? escaping death more times than one would care to remember? how am I still alive? all I know is I just have to finish the novel with the art stuff and publish it

Edgar Allan Poe book

 enjoying the read, his younger years are: a beautiful little human full of vim and vigor, one of the boys who wanted to kiss girls; all his bros loved him and looked up to him; and he was imperious, a youngster with words and pluck to back it up....

dear diary

 Well, this morning was very interesting, and I kid you not, I drive to the market, getting some chips and I see a woman enter the aisle, didn’t notice she had a dog; she got what she wanted on the opposite aisle, I got mine, and now after her in leaving the aisle notice her dog, same, dress, same, it’s her. I say something and I see her body fright at me saying something from behind, she gets out into the end aisle and turns and  I tell her I had seen her just the other day at the mechanics, “Oh what a coincidence, have a good day.” So I finish shopping, and it turns out we have to come in close proximity again and I look away; then I get out before her (she used self-check out), and as I’m loading groceries, turns out she’s parked right near me and approaching her car; I finished loading and we are now twenty feet apart and i say have “Have a great day!” with a little wave, “You too! she says.” Of course she was strikingly beautiful and indeed did have a very similar pulchritude as an actress I’ve always had as a muse. Really wish she’d say Hi, let me send poems; I’d write a lot of good ones.

dear diary

 today i had booked a tire rotation at the local gas station; while waiting a woman pulled up with her dog, and after coming away with mechanic information, saw her face round with the adorable chipmunk cheeks and heard the lilt of her voice, and said that’s her; the spark to speak out was almost there, but didn’t fire; maybe another time, and if so, i’ll have a funny story about when i went to get a rotation which led to a hunt for two new tires.

poem

(untitled)

 According to the Hopi we're here

to make joyful movement

and joyful sound;
and according to the Vedas

we're all just a fractal of divinity—

each one of us everything

out there and inside

all at once--
which is frightening and why

ignorance is bliss.

poem

(untitled)

To be perfect as perfect can be

just burn light for truth

and the key indisputable moments

of our history; every moment,

between falling and waking.

playscript

"Ya know, I know a couple of people in life--same age as us--one's Catholic, one's Buddhist; both of them maybe buying a cheeseburger as we speak; and the way they each conduct their life--their turn of mind--it's just always so righteous. They always have the right touch in contentious moments. They always identify what's-what well. So I try and be like them."

photo

dear diary

 Came away with three contacts from the weekend with plans to talk further this week (the gallery owner too), and one of them sees me, a rad unknown artist, the vehicle issue is dead. Sold $300 at a gig today then found a ticket for no registration, fingers crossed for this week. Any three of them could be like oh you need a car man? No problem.

(fragment)

The stiff ocean breeze on the sycamore tree, bending back windward leaves

to a silvery green; you look from this to the square of people

buying art below and think how badly you need sale,

only to return to your vehicle to find a ticket

for expired registration;

knowing didn’t make all you thought you did,

but in looking at the fee

not bad a nick, thinking

if sun and wind and trees and people

discussing art  

recent email

Dear Rob and Brenny, you guys don’t know each other but you’re the last two tethers to me existing—Rob the dad of a nephew, Brenny the friend since high school; Rob’s agnostic, Brenny’s Catholic.

In some regards this is a last will/testament because tomorrow night is an art reception at a reputable gallery in Malibu, and I got two pieces hanging, and I’m hoping to parlay it into support as a visual artist. If it doesn’t happen, my car won’t smog, driving on tags from May, and pulled over Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride ends.

I’m sixty, got hundreds of pieces hanging around the world and thousands of copies out there of the first novel (both perhaps to be discovered in the future), and as a playwright, eyeing my own narrative, maybe hiking to a cliff over-looking the Pacific and doing a swan dive is a pretty fuckin’ cool way to end it. Of course I’d rather live to fight another day, I’d rather complete the novel I got ten yeas work into and include this letter in it.

If you guys split cost on lease for vehicle for six months, I’ll get a job at Costco or somewhere and become a working stiff; just focusing on being sustainable.

Was hoping dad/Pops would be there, and we talked and I impressed upon him I’m about to lose my vehicle (all that stands between me and living in the bushes), where he said OK, I got you. Then nothing. Pops is a five year old now and Mike controls him. Guess my younger brother stole my dad is part of the narrative too.

I don’t expect either of you to be burdened by me, fuckin weird mother fucker as I am (who has never been debauched or iniquitous [which is why I can look anyone straight in the face, as many fails as I've had]); just didn’t want to let this moment pass without saying such. Tomorrow night on Malibu Road until 9pm will be a definitive moment for lil ‘ol daydreamer John De Herrera :)

Love you guys and how you conduct life, knowing you both you’d make each other laugh. You are studs, I’m a misfit and maybe only in this day and age. Regardless, the fuckin colorfield art will live. Fingers crossed, time will tell.

Rob: 408-763-

Brenny: 310-717-

poem

 (untitled)

Having just had the crow caw from the brach some yards away,

I was reminded how essential they are to my well-being;

and though it is summer now, I know one of my favorite moments

is coming soon; where I put a long read aside near sunset

at the end of Autumn,

staring out the window at changing light,

and caw of them then, when the world is

slowing down in cycle;

their hark a reminder all is well.

recent podcast

 https://www.buzzsprout.com/791252/episodes/17617341

photo

poem

 (untitled)

How exciting and frightening all at once to be alive right now;

how delicious to the marrow of our souls;

when the world is running down,

the vast ground covered in refuting the lie.

poem

 When I Came To The Same Conclusion As Oscar Wilde

It was after years of reading far and wide, gathering up enough information to say what could matter; and I really don’t want to go fish up the exact quote, but it’s there somewhere in the files; where he says the best way to live life is with two minds operating in harmony: one you do as a player, and the other a critique; like in the black box theater of your mind, as a naked human on the stage, and someone in the audience who knows you oh so well.

My fundraiser on GoFundMe

https://gofund.me/8adf23a6

two entries in local art show