Sunday, January 3, 2010

'Sandman, If You Can, Send Me a Dream'


I wake up at midnight
watch the t.v.--
Then write a love poem
that you'll never see,
I've burned more candles
Than stars in the sky,
Read all your letters
and kissed the goodbyes.
Now I'm not sleeping,
I'm not getting through,
the end of the day where it used to be you--

I'm not getting through...

Sandman, if you can,
send me a dream--
a new one no blue ones
I'm right in between--
this night and last night,
please help me believe--
Sandman, if you can,
send me a new dream.

I open the curtain,
and look down the road,
there's a light in the darkness,
The Johnson's are home,
I've cursed at angels
while waiting for dawn,
I've looked at your picture
until my senses were gone...

Now I'm not sleeping,
I'm not getting through--
the end of the day
where it used to be you--

I'm not getting through...

Sandman, if you can,
send me a dream,
a new one no blue ones,
I'm right in between,
this night and last night,
please help me believe,
I'm down on my knees
and I'm begging you please--
if ever a night
when I need to believe--
Sandman, if you can,
send me a new dream...

Oh, to be a song. So many songs are letting go songs, still, you think you've let go long ago, using a song to help move things along, and then something happens to let you know that some things are hard to let go of. So, we pine, we languish in what could have been. We lie awake and wonder how the outcome seemed so unfair. And so the past collaborates with the present, and the memories turn into feelings once again, and we can only lie there and know that all these emotions are pushing us towards the future, and for a little while, the concept of time is no longer. I don't think I've written a better 'letting go' song, the melody is haunting and Gray. Its so interesting to live with a song, to sing the past right into the present, now I'm becoming redundant. I love to sing this song, though, softly and sweetly. Letting go...

The one o'clock meeting today was powerful. All in defense of the first drink. I remember once, at the end of seven years sober, I went to Lake Tahoe, NV, to play a gig. It was a singer/songwriter gig, two nights at The Cutthroat Saloon booked by my friend Jeff Jones of The Jeff Jones Band. I had finished the first night, and sat down at a table where Jeff and his girlfriend were sitting. Not knowing that I was seven years sober, he bought me a beer and set it in front of me. I stared at the beer, and then in a 'heady' place after finishing a performance, I drank half of it down. It was on. I didn't drink again for six months, but that was the drink that I had no defense against. Some of you may think, "So he had a beer, what's the big deal?" For me, it is a big deal. I couldn't stop thinking about that beer, until it took me on a drunk. I proceeded to drink episodically for the next four years. I have a trigger that I am trying to arrest, which causes me to 'pre-meditate' my drinking. It's the work I'm doing here. Stopping the cunning nature of this horrible compulsion to drink. Trust me, I don't drink the same way you do, I drink to forget. I drink to sabotage, I drink to have another drink. The tools I am seeking today are in defense of just that one drink. Its almost a full time job. I am excited by my progress, however, and will continue seeking this path. Okay, enough about that spirit.

Today was a good day, more dog park, some grocery shopping, reading, and now writing. In the morning, there are two places I'm going seeking some work. My confidence is high, as is my belief that this will be a very good year for me. I now have nineteen dollars in my checking account, and that after some very kind contributions from three of my favorite people. I should have a royalty check coming tomorrow from Samuel French, but still don't know if it will be fifty dollars or five hundred dollars. I'll expect the low, and hope for the high. When I get down towards the end of my cash reserves, I always go to the grocery store, have done that for years. I know I will eat for the next two weeks.

I have some very good news. I knew this was coming, but wanted to wait until I knew for sure. I got a call from the woman who will be producing 'Under the Desert' in Los Angeles. It looks like sometime this spring, someone will finally produce this play. Although I'm always skeptical of these overtures of production, it looks like this will really happen. I talked about this play in an earlier entry, and the tedious and time consuming process to get it towards a finished product. As I mentioned earlier, I think this will be a good year for me, if I can keep my feet moving forward, pay attention to what the universe is bringing, and not let my time and energy move in another direction. I'm at a 'tipping point'. I've waited twenty years for 'this year'. I'm stepping out in faith to make that statement, good things are on the horizon and the sun is coming up. I need to sleep, I have to be up early, tomorrow will be another day of adventure.

I do miss, the company of writers. I'm looking for them, I know they are here somewhere, I miss the 'Book of...'


Anonymous said...

I like you. I love and cherish your raw honesty and your fearlessness in showing youre human. You err you love you crash you laugh then cry and you grow. Youve earned the moon and taught me respect. golden, you are, golden. said...

I think you are reaching to the world and I believe it will come.
Great news about your play being produced in L.A.
I have always liked Sandman..and I love this comment of Anoymous.

Chuckh said...

On being a writer

The last words of the great general, Robert E lee before he died, years after the end of the war, on his death bed were, "Strike the tent..." Oh, how we live in our dreams, our guilt and pleasures of the past, present and future. I have lived memories over until they were worn thin and lost impact. I have seen how I wanted things to be and argued with ghosts of the past only to awaken and see them for what they are. There was a time when I refused to commune with certain people because I did not want the memory of them in my head. I see things over and over again after they are gone. I am an observer. I have a keen interest in cause and effect. I see people as they are, as they try to be, as they hope they are...The past haunts me until I tell it to go away, then it does for a while until stirred up again by some inane comment or situation. This is why I write. I see things clearly enough, can hold them still long enough for me to write it down…

Doc said...

I just want to comment. Raymond sighted on the family site. Raymond writing another entry. I am thinking of a break in the clouds, knowing this is how you live your life. I have faith because you do. That is the only way I can look at it. Mom

Kayla said...

Art Father,

"I do miss, the company of writers." You and me both. In fact, it was that longing that got me trying to get some people together to do some sort of online writing community thing. Terena, myself, Isaiah, possibly Brit Shostak, and I think Renee Simms might join in as well, are most likely going to start some kind of back-and-forth writing critique/commentary/share space.
I'm desperate for inspiration, and my catalogue of writers I know, trust, and respect, is rather slim.
You're welcome to read and/or share with us, if you'd like. :)


Chuckh said...

Sorry to hear you didn't get my card. I hope you can find it somewhere because it had a small gift inside. Where could it have gone?