On The Road With Al and Ivy: A Literary Homeless Chronicle - July 2019

"add Deeds to thy knowledge answerable; add faith, 

Add virtue, patience, temperance; add love, 

By name to come called charity, the soul 

Of all the rest: then wilt thou not be loathe

To leave this Paradise, but shalt possess 

A Paradise within thee, happier far.—"

- Milton (Paradise Lost)

I've spent a lot of my leisure time in used bookstores. One of the best was Berger's in Sunnyvale, California, back in the 80s. It was a dusty hole in the wall, owned by Thomas Berger, who spent his days reading classics and theological works, but would stop and ring up sales or handle trades as needed. I saw him use a vacuum cleaner a couple of times too.

Like any good used bookstore, it reflected the owner's tastes, and in this case, it was the classics and history at very low prices. That was right up my alley, and my average stay was two hours, often more.

My routine was to walk through the aisles and check the new arrivals, which were on the floor in boxes and bags until Mr. Berger could get around to pricing and shelving. Then starting from the letter A in the fiction section, I'd literally look at every book in the store and see what caught my eye. I later realized that what popped out reflected my state of mind at the time.

I'd ask Mr. Berger about a book, and he'd patiently explain the author's background, and most importantly, the context of the work. On one such occasion, an explanation of Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress" turned into a fascinating hour long lecture about the book's symbolism and it's influence on the Western novel form, which not only opened my eyes to Bunyan's genius, but convinced me to cash in a months worth of trade credit on a rare vintage copy.

I'd often just pick out a book and read, sitting on one of the boxes of books in the aisles. Once I lost track of time and was still reading after closing, but he kept the store open until I looked up and realized it was getting dark. I bought that book, a vintage copy of Arthur Conan Doyle's "Micah Clarke," which I've talked about in this blog and still own. 

Mr. Berger stressed that it was important to read new authors, particularly ones out of my comfort zone. The idea was that one didn't only read for pleasure, but to learn and explore. I wasn't a big fan of Balzac or Longfellow, for example, but I've read them and my experience is richer for having done so. Even if a book isn't to your taste, it's still, in a sense, a conversation with that author and each has something to offer.

...Last Of The Mohicans revisited...

One of the most influential suggestions was to revisit "Last Of The Mohicans" by James Fenimore Cooper, which in junior high seemed too arcane and wordy. He said that people focus on the romantic adventure story and miss the spiritual side, expressed through a young preacher, a character often omitted in movies and reviews. He had an interesting series of exchanges with the Pathfinder, whose conception of God was atavistic and closer to the Mohican view of life. How the two found common ground was out of the norm of religious thought in that era, a naturist view.

On one visit, Berger threw in a free book by Thomas Wolfe, along with the full background on it. He said that Wolfe actually wrote one huge book, and his editor broke it up into separate works. That's not an unusual occurrence in the music world either. Columbia Records producer Ted Macero took several of Miles Davis' rock fusion jams and edited those into such classic albums as "Bitches Brew," "Jack Johnson" and others.

We discussed Wolfe on my next visit, and I mentioned that another book, Jack Kerouac's "On The Road" was a similar trip, having been typed up on a single roll of paper. I told him that the book seemed tedious, with long passages about routine sounding stuff, and he agreed that it wasn't the type of book I normally read.

He pointed out that I was someone who bought every different translation of Homer's "Illiad" that came into the store, and added an interesting observation; that I loved the story and "enjoyed hearing different voices tell the tale."

Story is important, he added, but sometimes it's is only a vehicle to express what the author really wants to say. In the case of On The Road, the symbolism of Kerouac's car trip was to leave an old life and plunge into a new one, and that the book broke from the conventions of it's time by describing an almost existential string of events that wasn't just about finding a girl and living happily ever after. 

It was about being in the moment, not living for a far off future or stuck in the past.

Understanding what he meant took another year and several more books. There wasn't a copy of Kerouac's book on hand, so he started me off with a free copy of Henry Miller's "Tropic Of Cancer," adding, "forget story, there isn't one here, but read as if you're listening to him thinking aloud, listen to his voice."

I did what he said, and the book blew my mind wide open. Henry Miller wrote without a filter between his mind and the written word. Even if you don't like his books, you've still had the opportunity to listen to a man who was as free from social conventions like guilt or shame as one could get in that era (though one could include Joyce in that group). It was a voice that spoke without fear, which isn't the same as breaking taboos, a quality that's still rare today and takes real moral courage. I'll be talking about Tropic Of Cancer in the August blog.

That concept of an "author's voice" is important in my book, because I refer to it as "people I've met" in the past, who've said things that developed even more resonance while living out there in a car, all who were introduced to me by Mr. Berger. 

“Was it not known of old,” she said, “that a woman should ruin the kingdom of France and that a woman should re-establish it?”

- Anatole France (The Life Of Joan Of Arc)

Francois-Anatole Thibault, who wrote under the pen name Anatole France, was a Nobel prize winning French poet and writer who wrote a two volume biography of Joan of Arc. George Orwell described the work as one that showed that Jeanne, or Joan was "a lunatic," which was his interpretation, not France's.

France did speculate that Jeanne may have suffered from delusions caused by frequent fasting, but the books are actually a detailed collection of fact, historical legend, opinions, and more interestingly, his questions. The critical assessments of the bio vary, and as with any historical work, it's accuracy is disputed by someone or another.

The "Life of Joan of Arc" reads like an old history book. It doesn't have the flow of a modern novel, and because it's a translated work (from French) it loses subtleties like humor and satire. The overall feel of the book is, for lack of a better word, "kind" to Jeanne's story and the occasional insertion of author comment and criticism feels jarring, like a sudden shift in tone. It probably read differently in the original French.

Jeanne's "voices," those of Saints Margaret and Catherine of Alexandria, and occasionally the Angel Michael, are woven into the story. That creates a atmosphere where the protagonists appear to float in and out of "reality" but feels accurate for that era, when visions weren't necessarily considered fantasy or neurosis.

What makes the book worthwhile is that while Anatole was a skeptic, he does give Jeanne a fair shake. One gets the feeling that he admired her, implying that even if manipulated there was no guile on her part. All of the major events are covered in detail, her statements delivered straight, and her piety described without judgement. One will see all the points of view that surrounded this ultimately remarkable woman.

Anatole's book makes clear that she had plenty of detractors, but he doesn't spare them either. During the Hundred Years War, France was a sprawling mess of small provinces ruled by lords that the King couldn't control, and whose soldiers were as likely to rape and pillage their countrymen as the English. The politics and religion of the time was corrupt and infested with scoundrels with fake piety and a devotion to the One True God (of cash).

Jeanne was a young woman who the clergy had verified as pious, sincere, who sorta-coulda be the fulfillment of an ancient prophesy, and who probably struck people as a breath of fresh air from the politics of that era. As far as talking to Saints or other deities, that's something lots of people did then, and still do today. We can't lock them all up.

The actual historical data isn't comprehensive, in fact, it's not even clear what she looked like. Many people base their opinions on the remarkably detailed transcripts of her trial. One problem with data, beyond whether it's accurate or not, is that by itself it generally means nothing. Information often ends up being cherry picked or packaged to back up a conclusion or opinion, like those studies that attempt to diagnose her mental condition.

...a living symbol...

It's clear that Jeanne became a living symbol, and that various people and factions embraced or attacked it depending on their own personal agendas. That's led to modern opinions that reveal more about the writer and his or her motives than the subject. One opinion I've read, that speculates that she was a naive stooge used and manipulated by powerful nobles really just shows the writer's reluctance to believe that a young woman could achieve something great. Her rise and fall certainly involved more than one single factor.

One important point that Anatole makes is that in the events leading up to Jeanne's first (and probably greatest) victory at Orleans, was that the inhabitants welcomed her because of a deep distrust of the French nobility, who were as likely to plunder the city as the English were. 

The military situation at Orleans was that the English, called "Godons" because they seemed to use the word "Goddamn" a lot, didn't have enough men to completely seal off the city. The problem was that the population could defend the city walls, and had more supplies than the enemy, but not enough strength to actually attack armored knights in the open and drive them away.

In other words, if the Godons couldn't be driven away, they could eventually gather enough men to completely cut the city off, though that wasn't a given, as the shortage of supplies drove the English to mount desperate attacks to try and bring things to a quick conclusion.

One solution was to ask the French King for help. It could require a hefty payment that might simply whet the appetite of the noble banditry, and after victory, they could possibly have to deal with their rescuers. It was a classic political situation where each solution was a little worse.

Aside from the rapine and butchery that an English victory would bring, it's also clear that France, as it existed then, wasn't in any real danger of being completely conquered. The Hundred Years War was essentially a series of glorified raids by the English where some territory changed hands, and the massive defeats of French armies were followed by payments and concessions that left the country intact. 

That the people of Orleans didn't regard getting aid from the King as the default solution shows that the English weren't viewed as a threat to national survival. That's just a simple overview, of course, one can get into a whole lot more detail about that age, which would then open the door for a multitude of theories and opinions.

The salient point is that the myth, or leadership of Joan of Arc was inspiring to the commoners and middle class of France. The people of Orleans were probably relieved to find a hero who could keep the French nobles in check (who by themselves could produce a victory that would be as bad as a defeat).

Joan of Arc, or her image, was a unifier, and it did bring about the defeat of the English at Orleans and elsewhere. Her piety must have been real and inspiring, because in that age, she'd have been tried and executed for witchcraft or heresy long before she picked up the banner for France.

Anatole France's biography, as stated earlier, was written by a skeptic, but like many of the learned religious figures back them, he could find little wrong with the person. Like Sitting Bull or Hannibal, whose histories were largely written by their enemies, it says a lot about them when their character survives attack.

Anatole France could find no hard proof of insanity, and centuries of modern cynicism hasn't produced convincing evidence that she was a mere figurehead for men (unless you're predisposed to assume men are always the real power). Yet despite attempts to destroy her myth and legend, and judged by the same criteria as a man, it can be said that she saved France from the English invaders and became a national hero and Saint who still inspires men and women to this day.

"If you want to write, just write."

- Kenneth Roberts (I Wanted To Write)

My writing days began in high school, though not due to any design. I joined the High School newspaper in my junior year with the hope of becoming an editorial cartoonist, but was instead assigned to the Sports section. My first story, about the poor performance of the JV Tennis team, which as a matter of disclosure I was a part of, was OK'd by the Editor-In-Chief, who was on the Varsity team and agreed with the slant of the piece.

To his credit, the JV Coach didn't kick me off the team but did let it be known that implying he was barely qualified was oversimplifying the problem of trying to coach a team where, for example, one of the members had only been playing for three months. I insisted that it was actually four very intense months, during which time I'd also read two "how to" books on the sport, but was compelled to grant his point.

I was subsequently transferred out of the sports page to the editorial staff, which was deemed a good place to learn about the true conscience of journalism and a convenient place to put someone who appeared to have little interest in learning how to write a proper news story.

Which I'll cop to, I could have cared less. I just wanted to draw cartoons just like the geniuses working for Mad Magazine and be off in time for tennis practice.

The Editor-in-Chief, a senior named Mark, had other plans and decided to make me his successor. It was an odd pairing, as he was a Young Republican type who believed in journalistic integrity and I was a left leaning artiste who thought underground newspapers (and Mad Magazine) were the wave of the future.

Mark not only put me in the Editorial section, which was rarely given any space in the paper, but made sure that my other assignment was layout. It was tedious work, but by the end of the year gave me the ability to combine everything into a layout that was "offset print ready" for the printing technology of the time. I learned what would be picked up by the camera and what details, like the edges of the typed columns, wouldn't show.

It was no small thing. Understanding "print ready" made it possible to put out a publication in the 80s with just a good typewriter and simple graphics equipment. After succeeding to the Editor-In-Chief position in the second semester, I put this knowledge to work and remade the school publication into what looked like an Underground Newpaper and most importantly, gave myself the job of editorial cartoonist.

Though the school paper started to lean left, Mark did teach me one valuable lesson, which was to never forget what a newspaper was. He and the advisor resisted the temptation to censor articles about student anti-war protests, birth control info, and ecology but made sure I put in plenty of content about the student government, school spirit and the various clubs. It's easy to fall into the belief that a publication is all about one's vision, but it's also about who's going to read it.

I didn't use those editing skills until the 80s, other than some freelance commercial art projects here and there. In 1981, after a stint in a punk band, it hit me that a more personal project involving blues and jazz music would allow me to immerse myself in the world of music journalism and gain access to free records.

...the delta snake...

The Delta Snake Blues News launched in 1982, and was immediately popular in the San Francisco Blues scene. I typed the copy in justified columns on a typewriter, and did all the graphics by hand, and delivered the completed layouts to the printer who liked my concept and gave me a discount after agreeing to sit through a presentation about a marvelous food product that was stored in puncture proof containers, never spoiled, tasted as delicious as fresh, and that with good old American go get'um, would make me rich beyond my wildest dreams in a year. I chose the way of art, and stayed poor.

I sent out preliminary review copies to such personages as Tom Mazzolini, the organizer of the San Francisco Blues Festival and DJ for the popular KPFA-FM Blues By The Bay show. He gave me some invaluable advice; remember to put your name and business address on the newsletter.

The first mailing sold out, with 100 copies mailed out to subscribers, and another 99 distributed to record labels, blues clubs and used record stores, all with my name and mailing address written in by hand. Fortunately I forgot to give out the 200th copy, otherwise there'd be no first issue in my sort of complete collection, one of the few belongings I kept even after becoming homeless. 

After the first issue, former Eddie Cochran sideman, Troyce Key, who co-owned Eli's Mile High Club in Oakland, California, wrote me and said he liked what I was doing and wanted to buy a regular full page ad. He said make sure to charge enough to cover the printing cost, and until he died, never failed to pay. The entire paper-era run of the newsletter, about seven years, was largely due to his support.

What I did have to worry about was delivering the product. Several blues labels also bought ads and sent review copies of records, over 20 in the first month.  Having to write 20 reviews was unexpectedly tedious, but taught me a lot about writing under deadline and the difference a thesaurus makes when describing the same kind of music over and over again.

Distribution soon jumped up to 2500, and I was forced to supplement the printing runs with copies run off Xerox machines at work. I'd offset print the covers and run the other pages at work. Any feelings of guilt over using company property was lessened due to having to wait in line till other staff got their own private newsletters out, but to this day I wince at the thought of how sneaky artistic endeavors on a shoestring can be. 

...the beginning of freelance stuff...

It was during this time that the publisher of a local weekly paper approached me to do a blues story. That was my first paid publishing credit, at three cents a word, and encouraged me to seek more freelance writing assignments. That continued into the 90s, with articles that included three cover stories; one that made print, one that was downgraded to research and one that was killed by the publication's legal department.

None of that was discouraging, as once you get into print, you tend to keep getting work, though not necessarily enough to actually live on.

Publishing The Delta Snake, which is still in existence as a blog (though not as active as On The Road With Al and Ivy), taught me the value of being a "one stop shop" where every discipline is combined into one skill. Editing, for example, seems less mysterious, and the drawings seen here in this blog are executed for print, not display. That means every ink line, shading or textures are executed with the intent of running the drawings through effects filters. 

I include two versions of the same drawing later in the blog. One was treated to recreate an old 17th-18th century book illustration feel, which took me years to realize that it was the printing process that made it look that way, and a more colorful version that's closer to the original in appearance, where the textures and shading lines can be seen.

I do cringe when reading some of my earliest work. Being my own editor meant that some amateurish work slipped through. But none of that ever "ruined" my writing career, which has occasionally paid well, and not very much the rest of the time. I came out with some disastrous Delta Snake issues that I still shake my head over, and am still haunted by the memory of submitting a successful query for a Jack London article and to my horror, realizing that I had no idea how to write it.

Time is always on the writer's side. The Delta Snake went through three periods; paper, Usenet and then Internet. Each era was a fresh start with new skills to learn, leaving behind past mistakes with useful experience to be carried into the future. My writing got better, though it's still not where I'd like it to be.

Which is another big lesson from those days; that you won't get better at writing by reading about it. To quote the great Maine author Kenneth Robert, "if you want to write, just write."

"The Nymph wondered whether she had misheard his words. She asked: ‘Who may the Father God be? How can any tribe worship a Father? What are fathers but the occasional instruments that a woman uses for her pleasure and for the sake of becoming a mother?’ She began to laugh contemptuously and cried: ‘By the Benefactor, I swear that this is the most absurd story that ever I heard. Fathers, indeed! I suppose that these Greek fathers suckle the children and sow the barley and caprify the fig-trees and make the laws and, in short, undertake all the other responsible tasks proper to women?’"

- Robert Graves (Hercules, My Shipmate)

"But Ino, Cadmus’ daughter, saw that scene—she, nymph with lovely ankles, once had been a mortal, one who spoke with human speech; but, honored by the gods, she then became Leucóthëa, a goddess of white waves."

- Homer (The Odyssey, Allen Mandelbaum translation 1990)

- Al Handa

  July 2019

Note: I later composed an ambient electronic piece about the idea of Ivy becoming a mermaid, it's on the Electric Fog Factory site on YouTube, called "A Dog Dreams And Becomes A Mermaid."

https://youtu.be/vJLXEAHI3yo

- Al Handa

djboogieunderground@gmail.com

The Al & Ivy Homeless Literary Journal Archive:

There are earlier blog entries on the Delta Snake Review section of this site that aren't on the On The Road page:
http://deltasnake.blogspot.com

Cover Reveal For Hide In Plain Sight

This is the cover for the upcoming book, Hide In Plain Sight, hopefully out sometime in 2019.

-Al Handa

djboogieunderground@gmail.com

On The Road With Al and Ivy: A Literary Homeless Chronicle - June 6, 2019

He traverses familiar, 

As one should come to town 

And tell you all your dreams were true; 

He lived where dreams were sown.

- Emily Dickinson 

"Do you suppose I give a damn about life now? Why, you bone-head, I haven't got a single damned lying hope or pipe dream left!"

"By God, there's no hope! I'll never be a success in the grandstand--or anywhere else! Life is too much for me! I'll be a weak fool looking with pity at the two sides of everything till the day I die!"

- Eugene O'Neill (The Iceman Cometh) 

I've first saw O'Neill's play, "The Iceman Cometh" in high school. My English & Literature class watched the movie version that starred Lee Marvin and Robert Ryan on PBS. I won't go into all of the deep meaning, as there's cliff notes and Google for that, but what seems relevant today was the importance of dreams, which are part of a reality, even if delusional.

The play's message was also anti-dream, a reaction to the Hollywood dreams-can-come-true-story, which envisioned success in terms of riches, or a rise in social status, which for most will never happen as the capitalist system is about winners and losers.

The aspirational image is a powerful concept. People who'd be unhappy working in a burger joint for minimum wage will willingly put out much more effort for less money in pursuit of a dream. Most writers and musicians know this is true.

Hollywood standardized the dream narrative but in real life, dreams can be quite idiosyncratic. However, one's stated dreams are not always revealing or illuminate a real desire. 

For example, a person dreams about becoming a star (or in America, rich and famous, as simple fame is often derided). When asked, the aspirant will talk about creating great art or helping others, but if they do succeed, can end up acting like tabloid celebrities and engage in behavior that would have shocked even the 17th century French nobility.

In that case, the dream wasn't about great art, but status. Once achieved, the real desire came out, empowered by money. People talk about the pressures of fame, or the corrupting nature of money, but that's not generally true. Most of the rich don't flaunt wealth, they know better, and even if snobby, generally keep to themselves (or let politicians do the dirty public work). Many try to do good works, and manage to hang on to the money (and not blow it on drugs or whatever).

A dream can be anything you want, but to me, one of O'Neill's messages was that to have a realistic dream, it's a good idea to know oneself. At the end, the Socialist drunkard has a realization that seemed like a final surrender to death. Perhaps on the surface, but realizing he was a weak fool for sitting aloof and pitying both sides was a deep piece of self knowledge. 

Another classic, "Magister Ludi," aka "The Glass Bead Game" by Hermann Hesse has a similar theme. An intellectual master of an extreme sport for the mind finally realizes that he can't stay aloof from life. It's a nuanced idea, but the Glass Bead Game became the Master's life and it failed him when a choice had to be made in real life.

The idea of intellectual pursuit or a dream isn't a universal truth. There's other views of reality. In an old Japanese film, the ending text said that the characters lived their dreams and after death, moved on to the real world, which implies that life here is an illusion.

Frankly, all of that stuff is true when it is, and not when it not. I once said in an earlier blog entry that a person could be Mickey Mouse as long as he didn't try to make others believe it, and even then, whether it's a wasted life is really only an issue for those who care about someone else's business.

Which, in terms of art, means that one can dream anything they want, and you're a writer (for example) if you call yourself one. If that dream requires money, an audience or applause, then you have to decide if it's worth doing what it takes to get that, things which will often have nothing to do with art.

"A word spoken with the whole being can give life. Activity in itself means nothing: it is often a sign of death."

- Henry Miller (Tropic Of Capricorn)

An awful lot of the "history" of literature is Western-centric. The start of so-called realism (in France) is said to have started with Balzac and Stendhal, whose work was a departure from the "romantic" era exemplified by writers such as Sir Walter Scott. Such a viewpoint might earn a passing grade in a literature class but anyone who's reasonably well read knows that the modern Western era wasn't the first time that adventurous, realistic, free form or dirty writing had been created.

Many of the ancient classics, like The Arabian Nights or Canterbury Tales were originally  rowdy works that were bowderdized into clean tales suitable for children. The history of Western literature is often more about the battle over censorship than any supposed progression of creativity, particularly as the printing press enabled more works to get past the old gate keepers that published books by hand.

One can get the impression from early school text books that literature evolved from folk tales into classic works full of truth and reality when it's really due to wider literacy and the evolution of technology that enabled the production of mass market books and movies. One could even argue that today's higher sex and obscenity content could be as much a matter of changing tastes (or the competition for public attention) than an increase in freedom.

...what genius...

Many of mankind's greatest works could be nitpicked into a failing grade by a person properly trained in English grammar, though there are genres, like technical manuals and textbooks, where proper structure can be critical.

All great geniuses are rule breakers, and tend to be treated as exceptions or outliers. It reminds me of a past musical discussion about jazz guitar on the Internet, and how one of the greatest guitarists, Wes Montgomery, played on extra thick strings with his thumb, which was considered unorthodox. The consensus among the "experts" of the discussion group was that Montgomery was a genius but not one that could be emulated by those wishing to "properly" learn jazz guitar.

The lesson society teaches is that individual style works if it works (makes money), and your safest bet is orthodoxy or pro level craft. That was a mantra of a past era, when a writer generally only had one or two chances to prove their talent (ability to sell). That's because book publishers were gatekeepers who successfully convinced the public that their product was of the finest quality and that self publishing was a "vanity" project that was the last resort of the mediocre.

The Internet era, for all it's faults, will be seen as a time when an individual writer had the great freedom, and more importantly, the ability to keep writing after an early failure. That means that a lot of excessive or undisciplined works will be created, but no one needs to write with the simple goal of making money (and all the compromises necessary) unless they want to.

Henry Miller once said, that one should write a book because it needs to be written. When it's finished, to not worry about getting it published but to begin writing the next one, and the next. He wrote that passage in Europe, where there were small presses that would support cutting edge work, not in the US where getting published was indeed critical to a writing career. 

I remember being told in High School journalism class that writing books was only something a journalist who had put in his time could aspire to, and wasn't something anybody could just start doing. Even columns, which were the first blogs, weren't given out to beginners.

What Miller was describing was a life that was all about writing, and he only succeeded after years of hardship, and support by patrons who provided encouragement and even meals. His words make sense in this net era. In truth, publishing an Ebook only costs as much as anyone cares to spend on support services like editing. A work can be published without any of that, and a writer can keep putting out books as each is completed. 

You may not sell many books, and a second job might be necessary to pay the bills, but a writer's life is possible if you want it.

On every side of us are men who hunt perpetually for their personal Northwest Passage, too often sacrificing health, strength and life itself to the search; and who shall say they are not happier in their vain but hopeful quest than wiser, duller folk who sit at home, venturing nothing..."

- Kenneth Roberts (Northwest Passage)

The quote was taken from Kenneth Roberts' "Northwest Passage," which was about Colonel Robert Rogers (whose rangers became the model for today's US Army Rangers) who made an ultimately futile quest to find the Northwest Passage. It was also about a man named Langdon Towne, whose goal was to become a painter, who later fell into the trap of trying to become famous in England, where artists were regarded as part of the service industry. After an endless series of cycles spent trying to meet the right people and live a lifestyle worthy of a great artist, he came to the realization that painting was the real goal, and returned to America.

The movie version, with Spencer Tracy and a very young Robert Young (later of the TV show, Father Knows Best) was, of course, not true to the book and didn't cover the second half which turned the book from a great adventure book into a classic work about art, dreams and life.

It did keep one key scene from the book, where Langdon was wounded after a battle, and had to be helped to walk by an Native American woman and a kid. The Rangers were being pursued by the French Army and Abernaki Warriors, and Rogers couldn't slow the column down for just one man. Before Rogers left them, he reminded Langdon that the other soldiers just wanted to survive, but he wanted to survive to be a painter. Langdon had, in other words, a higher goal.

So Langdon made himself keep going, and made it back. It was a tortuous march, and very much about will power and seeing something beyond the situation at hand. Each painful step had as much to do with the goal as any visions of great paintings and success. That's an idea that influenced a lot of decisions in my book when it gets to the Winter of 2016.

I had a lot of dreams out there in the car, but taking good care of Ivy, going on daily hikes to stay fit, not eating junk food, staying as clean as possible, and avoiding drugs and alcohol wasn't just to stay busy or even fight depression. It was the immediate steps that needed to be taken once I realized that writing a book was a dream.

A lot of artists need second jobs in order to create, and it's natural to want to be somewhere else while working, but that work is still part of the dream, necessary to reach a goal. I remember reading an interview with a guy who worked for Bill Graham, who founded the legendary Fillmore concert venues. He said, that at the shows, Bill could be seen mopping up a spill in the bathroom because to him, it was all the same job.

I knew that I was, among other things, a writer. I wrote to find myself, to find people to help me survive, and felt that being a writer was a key to getting out. I started to write the book, but my blog got equal attention because that was the audience that was already there. 

In writing terms; the book is a dream, the blog is my writing world as it now exists. Everything I did out there in the car wasn't just to get out, but to continue being an artist. The danger of just wishing or hoping for a good future is that instead of taking the steps to get there, you wait, and every empty day reinforces the feeling of failure. 

I remember one of the the things I wrote that summer was that movement was survival, that one moved towards life or death. At the time, it was about the importance of getting the car running again, but it was also an allegory about how one faced life on the streets. There's no static states in nature, those who just sat out there and did nothing got worse.

What one does in the present is very much part of the future.

...William Makepeace Thackeray and The Book Of Snobs...

Thackeray's "Book Of Snobs" is a minor work, or seemed so until realizing that my internet-attention span mind had run ahead of the narrative and missed the joke, which was that the various types of snobs were being described and categorized by a fellow snob.

Thackeray used a fake character, one of the oldest literary devices to deliver satire, who was just as snobby as his subjects. One reason was, and it's true even now, it can be dangerous to satirize under one's own name. George Orwell once noted that Shakespeare would have have such material come out of the mouth of a jester or some such character to make it seem less threatening or incendiary.

Thackeray's book could only have been written in his time, to an smaller audience that was used to good writing and had the patience to read a full piece before reacting. Thackerey was confident enough to let the humor properly develop and was patient about when to land a punch line. 

Which isn't asserting that the times were better. Back then, feelings about slights, real or imagined could require an exchange of pistol fire at 20 paces (generally 30 feet or so). A cynic might point out that the distance was probably beyond the practical range of pistols of that era, but we can assume some bravery was required if historical accounts are true.

In another of his works, Barry Lyndon, a fake autobiography by a Irish rogue, the book got funnier as the story developed as he used the literary device of "editors notes" that start off as standard corrections to the text, then become obvious "corrections" of the facts. The reader begins to see Barry's narrative from the Editor's point of view, that the story is not the heroic tale it appears to be on the surface. It's written in the flowery language used by that era's historians so it's also a satire of contemporary accounts of great feats and heroes.

...Tom Wolfe, and satire....

A modern equivalent to Thackeray would be Tom Wolfe. Though his work was part of the "new journalism," or whatever, his articles had a similar outlook and approach. His humor wasn't cruel, and he generally did his best to present the subjects in as much of their point of view as possible.

Passages from his classic "Electric Kool Aid Acid Test" was often as psychedelic as the uttering of the Prankster leader, Author Ken Kesey. Tom was a New York Dandy, and no where near being a hippie, and because of that caught important details like Kesey's trip not being an attempt to simply create a new entertainment experience but one with spiritual/religious underpinnings. The later resistance from his followers who wanted to keep the Acid Tests as a party trip, once money came into it, was very much like what happens to a religion once a church gets involved. 

The undermining of Kesey's desire to move the Acid Tests into the realm of further exploration by those who'd begun to make money from the shows was something an outsider would see, one who'd seen how Andy Warhol had manipulated a similar trip in New York.

It was an empathetic view, that saw past Kesey's legal troubles at the time and the surface expressions of support from various hangers on. It was possible to see all that nuance because from the start, Wolfe depicted the life of Kesey and the Pranksters exactly as they lived it, without injecting his attitudes into the story. He could keep his own ego in check.

Tom had a Thackeray-like ability to make a subject or person seem funny without necessarily lampooning, which is a rare talent. One reason is that humans are funny creatures, and do funny things. One of the main cruxes of Kesey's world was the recognition that each person was a separate universe, or in his view, a movie, and idiosyncrasies were a case of "it is what it is." Behavior that had always existed, but didn't always get described in print.

By telling the story from the subjects point of view, Wolfe was able to describe the decline of the Acid Tests from exploration to commercial concern, which had many levels in play, but was essentially a case of followers fixating on ritual, and the age old problems that occur when money is involved. The early stages were financed by Kesey from his book royalties, but once other income streams were possible from peripheral activities like the music, drug sales, light shows and such, self interest came into play and it all became political.

Wolfe didn't insert any of his own judgement, and like Thackeray had the patience to let the story tell it all. That's a real ability, and it shows an ability to see the subject and describe details that might not be noticed if being viewed from a biased lens, and it shows a trust in the audience (or indifference to their feelings, the result is the same).

Modern satire is becoming less subtle. Maybe publications like the Onion can still satirize subtleties in behavior but these days laughs have to be delivered up front, and indeed, punch lines are now necessary or people might miss the point or just go into reaction mode.

...blessings and curses...

Immediacy is both the Internet's blessing and curse. In the age of print and even TV, a satirist could produce work, and the means to attack back was limited and subject to filters which included a time element that reduced the reactive rage type stuff. It gave a writer a reasonable amount of freedom to create without fear.

If a person didn't like what they read or saw, he or she had to write a letter saying so, and after mailing it, had to wait until an editor or some such person read it, and either forwarded it to the author or printed it in the next issue, etc. It was also understood that civility was required because if one just raved the letter would be put aside and never see print.

The Internet has eliminated that barrier, which was in effect a protocol and democratized the old relationship of publication and reader. A satirical piece can invoke reaction from a variety of sources from comment sections (not even related to the actual pub), blogs and social media and while that empowers readers, it can force a media company to please or avoid offending a customer base.

A good example is National Lampoon, which was pissing everybody off at first but eventually had to lean left as the audience segment that mattered most to advertisers was centered in colleges and some Baby Boomers who'd come a long way baby and rediscovered the financial joys of joining the establishment, but still wanted rebellion in small doses.

A writer like William Makepeace Thackeray could write satire in the Internet age, but he'd have had to accept a smaller audience and certainly constant attacks from trolls. 

...Internet discussion...

Internet discussion is a varying stew of intelligent points, gotcha you jerk, quotes from googled sources or experts, quotes purported to be from googled sources or an expert, fake quotes, quotes from a rented expert, and road rage. Sometimes, like in sports or guitar forums, all of the above is present.

None of that is new, not even the vehemence, as people could end up talking like that to each other in ancient times. However, the people who talked like that didn't hide behind handles and knew who they were insulting and had to be willing to be at the business end of a dueling sword, though a cynic might point out that historical records indicate that a higher number of duels were reported to be fought than actual documented deaths from such scrimmages. Again, we can assume some bravery was required if historical accounts are true.

Thackeray was onto something with his detailed treatise on snobs. He correctly noted a tendency of the English race to display that quality due to the nation's affluence which made snobbery accessible to many, which if you substituted "Americans" would bring that hoary old work into relevance. 

What the English Master didn't delineate was how so many types of snobs could exist but it wasn't intended to be a true think piece. After all, back then as now, if you wanted to make money from commodity type works then it was best to just get on with it and crank out the next series so that enough income was generated to permit a nice lifestyle and better, more artistic works. I doubt he gave it as much afterthought as I'm giving it.

...back to Wolfe, subcultures, and experts for a moment...

Tom Wolfe made the astute observation that America was a land of subcultures, each of which having it's own celebrities and even hierarchy. A person may not be on Page Six or National Enquirer but within the cult, of say, hot dog eating, one could be the next Led Zeppelin. It's a matter of scale, but the dynamics are often the same.

I remember watching an arm wrestling championship on TV, and the contestants behaved pretty much like athletes in a more profitable sport like Boxing; trying to psych each out, showing disdain, super sized egos, etc. 

The Internet added a new twist in that everyone could put their passion or interest into the web, and many exotic or offbeat interests found cult audiences and inevitably, created celebrities. Within a cult, proficiency is the difference between men and boys, but again, cash is king. If a skateboarder gets sponsors, their star power increases, and at that point if the guy wants to act like a jerk, it becomes a prerogative (until the money runs out).

In a more diffuse situation, like Internet Health and Nutrition or anything requiring actual facts, then the word of "experts" and such become important, though more than a few gurus have found out the hard way that people prefer "facts" that confirm their beliefs (or make somebody they don't like wrong). The Internet expert market is healthy, so much so that the field is vast and riddled with unvetted sages and fakes. Nothing new, of course, just an increase in scale.

One big reason for the rise of experts is that the Internet creates the impression that data is an ability or even wisdom. "Answers" are flat out right or wrong, or can become belief systems. Online debates can mirror B-movie courtroom dramas where people discredit whole arguments by finding one fact that's wrong and expect the other's confidence to collapse. If it doesn't, then snooty dismissals or insults follow.

Contrary to any belief that's been expressed that this is a unique Information Age, there was just as much "data" floating about centuries ago. If you had some spare time from working dawn till dusk to afford a bowl of porridge, and wondered about the cosmos or if there were aliens walking about posing as humans, there were plenty of experts back then that would give you an answer and back it up with "facts."

Of course, if you phrased the question wrong or said the wrong thing to the wrong crowd, it might be followed by a session with Doctor Stake and Professor Fire, which in these civilized times rarely happens, though people might publicly slander you, hack your accounts, and try to ruin your life.

All of this used to be harmless fun, but snobbery is becoming less about being high falutin or thinking others are stupid (which is acceptable human behavior on social networks) and moves into the realm of church-based religion or social fascism complete with excommunication, thought policing, or taking an imaginary stick to the poltroon to save their soul.

That's just nutrition, it gets worse when the subject is politics.

These days, quipping about snobs isn't going to produce chuckles when being snooty is acceptable behavior in countries where every man is a king (women too, where required by law). Democracy (via the Internet) gives the masses an opportunity to look down on their fellow man.

Thackeray's Book Of Snobs or Barry Lyndon are a period pieces, and many modern readers might find the works too mannered. It's from an age when the best satirists tried to get people to look at themselves and see the humor or absurdity in their behavior instead of taking the easy route of ridicule or insult. That was a fine skill, and worth any serious writer's time to study. Where such an ability could be applied in these times, I couldn't tell you.

Whether Thackeray's books are brilliant or not isn't for me to to judge, but I will say that both are brilliantly written.

"Sannoko may be the site of legends, but not of history."

- Junichiro Tanizaki (Arrowroot 1930, translated by Anthony Chambers 

The first draft of my book was influenced by "Arrowroot," by Junichiro Tanizaki. Arrowroot was called a hybrid of essay and novel, which was somewhat similar to works like Hermann Hesse's "Steppenwolf" or Melville's "Moby Dick," each which used a scholarly treatise to delineate a central theme in the book. Tanizaki's approach was different in that the essay passages were more tightly integrated into the narrative.

Neither approaches were superior, though in western culture there's a tendency to try to make sure such digressions seem technically sound to ensure the point is understood, and perhaps less subject to attack. There's a danger when presenting factual information as it can become a sticking point where readers can disagree with it (or dismiss it) and not be able to get past that.

I completely understand. To this day I still think the movie "Patton" with George C, Scott was flawed because they used the wrong kind of tanks in the battle scenes.

Hesse and Melville had a different intent, as their in-book essays were attempts to educate, particularly in the latter's case. Melville's long essay about whales was very similar in intent to Tanizaki's, to permeate the work with a historic and mystical aura.

Tanizaki's genius was that the essays were so well integrated that it felt like a great storyteller was filling you in on the background stuff while enroute to this remote village, which had the result of making it seem more alluring as the book progressed.

The first draft flowed well, but hadn't addressed the variety of perceptions that exist about the homeless. I felt the draft could set off an storm of chapter and verse nitpicking (more on that later), class conscious trolling, and get entangled in the contentious politics of the social welfare system. 

In other words, I didn't do a very good job of writing a book that's set in the homeless scene. I still liked the story, but for the second draft, it was time to reassess and rethink the delivery. Many writers experience the same thing. You start off thinking writing is all inspiration and genius, then find that it's really about getting that spark expressed in the real world. Then technical skill, passion, and plain stubbornness become important. 

That's all in the realm of technique.

I can describe a scene about a young female panhandler in detail, for example, and if insecure about my ability to bring the reader into it, could bring stock images of pathos into it, or focus on standard images of destitution that in this jaded society, may not even invoke pity in harder hearts. 

The woman's fate will come off as tragedy (rather than comeuppance) if her humanity is communicated in a way that doesn't trigger responses triggered by symbols or modern accident scene voyeurism. My job would be to show her as a person who arrived at that moment after a long series of incidents that cascaded into disaster.

...more about process....

What I'm going to talk about is in the book, but will share more detail about that character. Keep in mind, it's not "advice" or a #writingtip or anything like that. I'm just sharing a glimpse into my own "process" which if you're a regular reader of the blog, is a word that's interchangeable with "technical" because of my musical background (and having grown up in Silicon Valley).

Her opening scene doesn't have much in the way of physical description. I decided not to "paint a picture" of the young woman. The main reason is that far too many people have a reflexive image of a smelly, dirty person with a drugged expression that will fill in the blanks and override any description before it can develop. I avoided keywords that regularly pop up in media stories about the homeless for that reason.

I handled her exposition by setting it well after the original contact so the conversation was between two acquaintances, then switched the narrative to her inner dialogue, which worked better to bring in the backstory. In other words, the story stays in motion with active images to fill the vacuum until her image is fully set.

It's not just about getting into the mind of the subject, but also the reader. You want that image to be yours, what you've written, not simply a validation of stereotypes. If the reader doesn't see it my way, I can live with that, but I want them to disagree or reject what's presented on the book's terms.

...about smell...

Like I said earlier, I avoided keywords. A good example is the word "smell," which is an old stereotype, like "the great unwashed" and so on.

Many female panhandlers, at least the younger ones, rarely smelled bad or looked dirty (at least at first). Part of that was because newbie homeless still worked hard on their appearance, and because in the panhandling world, women were often the "breadwinners" and needed to be on point.

In Silicon Valley, for example, people encounter homeless people every day and never know it. Sure, they know about the homeless camps and the druggies seen in the media (or on the street in places like San Francisco), but thousands live in RVs or cars because service sector jobs don't pay enough to a get a room (even motels are generally filled up by late afternoon). 

They can stay clean because many large businesses have showers, and if not that, there's 24 hour gyms. Most are very aware that smell and appearance are the signs most people associate with the homeless, and even the transient taking a bath in the restroom sink is doing it to feel as normal as possible, however futile the effort is.

The young panhandler had a plot arc that took about half a year to become tragic. When she first appears, you'd only know she was homeless because of the cardboard sign that said so, though as the book reveals, the message on it was also an early sign of depression.

Knowing if she smelled bad, or if the clothes were all she had, weren't things any normal person will know right away. Particularly outside where there's a breeze. An author can fall into the trap of presenting a minutely detailed image, but that's not how perception works. Knowledge comes in layers, over a period of time frame (no matter how compressed).

The initial physical description is how it would look at a glance, then more details emerge.

That cursory impression was due to the etiquette out there. Staring or making direct eye contact could be interpreted as aggressive. I really didn't "see" her then, as my main concern was making sure our conversation didn't look flirtatious, which could bring an aggressive male in on me (I go into this aspect of street life later, of always having to assume one is under observation).

I talk to her standing sideways, looking off in my direction of travel and doing a quick 360 scan to make sure my approach wasn't misinterpreted by a boyfriend who could be watching, and she pets Ivy and talks in her direction. We both were posturing so that from a distance, it could be seen that the conversation was casual and about my dog.

...Rashomon...

The story then places you into the mind of the young woman, and those who walked by or watched from a distance. Some males gave money right away, then hit on her, or in some cases, did the male thing and gave detailed advice, then hit on her.

In another instance, her red hair catches a man's attention which puts him into rescuing prince mode. Yet another guy is far off, and is studying her as a possible candidate to pimp at the truck stop motel. An older woman whose own daughter is a runaway stops, gives her some cash and walks off with a lot of mixed feelings and regrets.

The panhandler saw things too, and was streetwise enough to know that a pimp was beginning to stalk her, understood that the guys wanted sex, and so on. Behind that cheery smile was a damaged, but smart woman who knew that she was in real trouble.

Being a street beggar was a label. What she was and why, what she could be, was really part of a bigger picture. It affected how men related to her, and the label had a stigma that removed many of the social protections that a woman normally has. That tag was important in the sense that it affected how she and others acted, yet on a deeper level, it has very little to do with what she was and why.

Her final story is a tragedy because of what she was and could have been, not because of what happened to her. I should add, because of what will be learned about her, you'll realize that nothing short of death will prevent her redemption. I felt that way after seeing her story unfold, perhaps you will too.

...why the book starts in the summer of 2016 in Gilroy, and eyes watching...

That eight week period, which involved being stuck on a street with a broken down car for six of the weeks, wasn't my first glimpse into the homeless scene. I'd seen it up north in Marin County and the SF Bay Area but at the time had the means to be insulated from those scenes, even if it was just being able to afford a motel room or being near a rest stop.

I side stepped a lot of trouble by avoiding drugs, and it helped being male, which made me useless to most predators. You could stay "under the radar," so to speak, if mobile (car, RV, etc) but being on the periphery had it's dangers. You can become "invisible" to society, or find a "blind spot" to hide in, but can't make the mistake of thinking that it's a safe place. The reality is that people are always watching and you're often under camera in many places. 

One common element of contacts with other homeless was that they watched me for days beforehand. People who immediately walked around introducing themselves were viewed warily for a variety of reasons, but mainly because it could be someone who didn't get it that being careless was dangerous out there.

The local police in the various areas were aware of me, had already stopped me at least once and my name, record (luckily clean) and vehicle were known to them. Dealers had already checked me out and knew if I were a customer, a nothing, or whether or not I was a possible informant or squealer. 

A local Christian cult regularly checked in on the homeless to recruit new members (and add any of their state or local aid to their coffers). There were vigilantes who constantly watched or harangued us, called the police over real or imagined crimes and of course, the homeless who watched each other and could spot a kindred spirit even in a large crowd.

I always assumed people were watching me, and that each pair of eyes had attitudes about what they saw, and it wasn't always pity. Most minorities and certainly women know that feeling of constantly being watched in public. Which is why the young panhandler and I didn't notice much about each other, we were both too busy staying aware of our surroundings. The scene in the book does paint a picture but the details weren't physical but physiological.

...women and money...

There is a strong undercurrent of feminism in the book. These days the issue has become as diffuse as a religion, and has political, social and emotional dimensions, and the latter was very present in the homeless world. All of feminism's successes and failures, and the best and worst of male attitudes were present.

The core issue, in my mind, is power over women and what men have done with that power. A male dominated system isn't really about superiority over women. That's a concept that only a specific subset of males who are afraid of or hate women believe in. 

The real damage to women is that male domination is an exclusion from the economic game of life. Such competition isn't just an element of poverty and homelessness, it's also a major factor in issues such as feminism. Discrimination is about exclusion, which historically is about domination of other males and the pecking order of wealth and opportunity. In other words, it's a man's world.

Power is said to a corrupting influence, but harassment reveals much about the abuser's  psyche. A traditional male patriarchy mandates the protection of women, but like many systems based on power, that sense of responsibility can be changed on a whim or not applied to women who don't toe the line. The Madonna/Whore dichotomy or fallen woman stereotype is very much part of a carrot and stick application of the doctrine.

Some men will point to cases of women who've harassed men, or women who screwed them over, which only proves the point about power, and like any argument which cherry picks anecdotes to advance a generalization to discredit women, it's proves nothing. I wouldn't assert that Americans are all criminals by using prison convicts as an example, and no sensible person would take me seriously if I did.

...battle royale of the sexes...

The Battle of the sexes was lost a long time ago. Women haven't won yet, and complete victory for either side isn't a sure thing.

Men had centuries to create a viable system of second banana style womanhood and instead couched surfed until it could only be maintained by physical and economic coercion. It was only a matter of time before women began to realize, probably after the last of the saber tooth tigers died off, that their main predators were males.

That's in the broader sense of theory. Most of the actual battles on the legal end of the issue are about opportunity, and economic competition, which is the most contentious aspect even between males. That's the easy part, the social aspect is more complicated, though it should be noted that on the whole, men and women do get along.

...social verses law....

That brings up an interesting point, which relates to any issue, which is the difference between legal and social change. 

The Founding Fathers wrote a constitution that avoids addressing social behavior and mores, which was not only considered the province of churches and other such groups, but because of what has happened historically when social behaviors were criminalized.

A society does have to make acts like murder illegal, even if the law can't prevent such crimes. In the case of dueling, for example, it was once considered an honorable way to settle disputes. It had to be outlawed for a number of common sense reasons. That was a case where societal attitudes changed, but even after it was outlawed, men still did it for the same reason, that it was seen as a definitive way to settle things.

These days, most would agree that dueling is a bad way to settle differences, but most fist fights are just duels that stay within the law. It's a social behavior that persists. The law serves the useful purpose of containing that behavior so (most) people don't get killed over money or honor and we know that it doesn't necessarily change the underlying attitude.

Laws to mandate equality between men and women are the same thing, it simply seeks to at least contain the behavior associated with discrimination and a realist realizes it changes very little in terms of society. There'll always be men who'll marginalize women, and will do so in every way they can get away with, but changing the laws does create change.

Again, that's just the broad picture, mainly the battleground of theorists, armchair generals, politicians and those who want to sell something. 

The reality is that most of us read what the various experts say and argue about, but on the personal level, men and women just work it out among themselves. Men who want a housewife can wait till one comes along, and women who want to be independent can go ahead and do it. It's not a perfect process, but life isn't cut and dried. 

Any real change will always be societal, about what actually happens in daily life. Marriages generally work, men and women get at least part of what they want, and most love each other and try to make each other happy.

Also, stripped of any notions of power or maleness, all of the fun things men like to do from hanging out in man caves, watching sports, or whatever don't need to go away. Being a traditional or macho male is perfectly fine but would be better as a stated sexual preference, as there are women who prefer that. Very little would have to change if women became truly equal to men. The alpha behaviors described as maleness are a stereotype that traps both sexes.

If men collectively changed their view of women, it wouldn't be seen as weakness. Historians would cite it as one of the most momentous evolutions in modern history, a paradigm reversing centuries of oppression, though it'd be best to do it while men still write most of the history books if credit for the feat is desired.

...another point about the mentally ill...

I started a thread in the last entry about the mentally ill, and will continue that in a later blog, but want to address a point here.

People talk about the mentally ill (out there), and focus on the extreme cases as if that's all there is. I've talked about the apathy present in many, and others have described it in harsher terms like laziness, lack of desire, drug use, criminality and so on.

The thing is, there's a lot more mental illness out there than even the troll element makes out. That apathy was a symptom, that I understood after being out there for a while. A lot of that is depression, often untreated. 

People don't just pop up in camps and streets, they end up there after a chain of events turned catastrophic. Sure, there's drug use, severe mental illness, but also victims of financial disaster, elderly on fixed incomes priced out of homes, and women whose only escape from abuse in an overheated real estate market means sleeping in a car (if they were lucky).

The point is that being homelessness isn't necessarily what devastated them, many were damaged going in. I can't tell you many of the people might be able to work their way out if simply treated for depression, but I know more than a few could. Drug abuse is generally self medicating, and frankly a lot of what you see as a homeless person can make drugs, many of which are cheaper than Big Pharma products, seem attractive.

The harmful part of making the homeless look like a bunch of druggies and crazies, besides affecting societies' willingness to handle it as a human issue, is that it can trigger or aggravate a lot of conditions like shame, guilt, and other emotions of defeat that can prevent people from seeking treatment. Yet in most urban areas, mental health help is available if the homeless could be made to feel that there was no shame in it. That's a problem in regular society too, and the solution is generally stated as awareness, and support. 

Much of what you see in the media about the homeless is true, it's just that it's a small part of the picture, the images most likely to create strong emotions, generate clicks and feed narratives. The reality is that there's a lot of people, both deserving and undeserving, and in varying states of pain and distress, and much of it treatable.

One of the biggest lessons I learned out there was that the acceptance and support I got from the Internet, was decisive and kept me from giving up. Acceptance didn't feed Ivy and me, but it kept me from giving up even after severe setbacks. It enabled me to ask for help, and while self esteem comes from within, having it reinforced by others makes it possible to believe when everything around you seems to indicate otherwise.

...changes...

I'm going to be changing the look of this blog. As you can see, I'm adding images from a sketchbook and other graphics to break up the text-heavy appearance. The illustrations are going to kept as casual drawings from a sketchbook, as that fits the freewheeling sprawl of this blog.

Pen and ink drawing have been a love and hobby since my teens, so it's a definite pleasure to add those to the blog. Also, it's a good warmup, so to speak, as I've decided to illustrate the book. More about that in the next blog, as well as a section on my freelance writing and publishing days, and why pen and ink has always been my favorite media.

Note: All images copyright 2019 by Al Handa

-Al Handa

djboogieunderground@gmail.com

Main Boogie Underground Twitter:

@alhanda

The Al & Ivy Homeless Literary Journal Archive (some of the earliest entries):

http://deltasnake.blogspot.com

On The Road With Al & Ivy: A Literary Homeless Chronicle - Jan 8th

 

"Like all men in this land, he had been a wanderer, an exile on the immortal earth. Like all of us, he had no home. Wherever great wheels carried him was home."

- Thomas Wolfe (Of Time And The River)

...the new kid in town...

...a new face, possibly Middle Eastern, which is rare around here...I recognized myself in him him because he was acting like I did a few months ago, he had found a spot, a haven, possibly after some aimless wandering about to avoid being seen by those he knew.

The first stage of homelessness is the worst...everything looks big, every problem crushing you and what was your life is now gone...it's a rebirth but it doesn't feel that way because it feels more like death.

In the tarot, the death card is actually a symbol of rebirth...which I knew due to being a tarot card reader on the early internet when it called the usenet and mainly consisted of discussion groups and ftp sites.

I went by the name of Magus Fool, and buying a reading from me included a package of the reading and a free subscription to my tarot newsletter...early tarot web sites later carried it in their search for content. I did pretty well, it supplemented the lower  midwestern pay in my two years in Elkhart, Indiana, as I did my early CAD drafting work drawing up structural plans for RVs and shuttle buses during the day, with night work doing ink drawings of furniture for a small company for it's product catalogue.

It was a busy time. There was also my blues newsletter that had transitioned into an ezine but neglected...because being a small time publisher was a labor of love...being a mystic paid better.

My clients were mainly women, and they all wanted to know the same thing...did their man love them?

I eventually had to quit, because the tarot cards can't divine such a thing...it can only help the person externalize what they already know, and as the clients generally knew the answer already, who wants to be the messenger in such a situation?

It was a fun time though...I met all sorts of metaphysical types, from astrologers to the various types of psychics, one of which correctly predicted that there would be a time when women would be my best allies, which turned out to be true. Any man who raises daughters will be at least a little bit of a feminist...Mario Puzo, author of classic The Godfather, once said that God was wise to entrust our children to women, men would have screwed it up a long time ago...the reason women are better is because men think action and brains is the key; women add heart, and that creates real strength.

The most misunderstood card is the Death card, which was really about rebirth or the end of an old life; though in tarot, the cards can end up meaning anything the reader thinks it means...the best readers are extremely intuitive, the worst are egomaniacs that think that whatever thought comes up is inspired.

The whole idea that tarot cards can predict a future is arguable but not likely...true divination, or oracles, are very rare...rare enough that the true seers are all famous...most divination is really the subject's inner thoughts pulled out into the open and thus a course or future is clear...which is, of course, a talent that's alarmingly close to a con artist's ability to tap into a sucker's greed or vulnerability.

So a newbie homeless is someone who's drawn the Tower card, which is catastrophe or upheaval, and against all normal logic, needs the Death card to comprehend the situation and find a new self...that's one way to look at it anyway.

The main thing lost was a home, which is both a physical and metaphysical concept...the thing that began stabilizing my situation was to quit moving blindly about and find a spot, a haven that may not have been a new home but where the visual confusion of a constant stream of new scenarios could stop and the mind could begin to work.

In other words, get to a place where you can stop reacting and think.

I found my island at a rest stop up north near San Mateo...the nature and isolation of the place meant that the other homeless lived in cars and were similar to me...and I went through the same stage the Middle Eastern new comer was going through.

He's an older guy, a bit older than me, which means a radical change in life is occurring without a younger person's sense that there's plenty of time left to start a new life, though a younger person may need to be told that by an elder. Life is a circle...

He parked in the same parking area for a couple of weeks...same as I did, and gradually expanded that to a couple of other spots. It took him about a week to begin walking away from his car for reasons other than to go to the bathroom, etc., and about two weeks to stop driving off to another spot if someone parked next to him. Which I didn't do, since at the rest stop there was only a couple of areas a newbie could go, there were cliques in the other places that marked off turf and could get hostile if you invaded their space.

I would just try to become more invisible...

The car feels like a protective shell, like a womb where the new self begins to form...that new self can simply to be the old self that realizes that after all the chaos of becoming homeless, you're really the same person after all but simply without a roof over your head, but now with a chance to actually be that same person but without the baggage...that might sound like a circular argument and maybe it is, I don't think I've found out who my original self is yet...

This week the newbie has reached the point where he's coming in at different times and parking pretty much anywhere...he watches the others more, and has begun to look at the outside world again. I don't know what his next step is, but hopefully he knows the difference between a safe haven and a home...it's too soon to decide that he's found a new home.

...singing in the rain...

People like to wax romantically about the rain, but then, most people can walk away from it and go indoors...I can, sort of, but see it pitter pattering away all day on the car windows...you see diverse behaviors out here; people trying not to get wet, getting irritated, tunnel vision aimed at the nearest door, and the occasional Gene Kelly type dancing in the downpour (but definitely because of drugs).

Even the most downtrodden homeless person pushing a cart makes sure they have a raincoat...a cynic might remark that it's a rare chance to wash, but that's not how rain works...unless the person wants to strip naked for an extended period of time and enjoy their new status on a sex offender list.

In this world, rain has a silver lining...as nature sheds it's tears on a thirsty world, the temperature goes up 5-10 degrees and cold cars become stuffy and comfortable even on a windy night.

Seeing all that water come down pounds home the point that I could be out there miserable and cold with a dog that looks like a chihuahua when her fur is soaked. It's a pitiful picture that inspires gratitude and relief.

There is a discipline involved...the real world has places where one can shed the wet clothes and shoes and not track it into the house...in a car, you want to keep as much of the water out as possible...damp air makes feel colder inside, damages devices, and in a rain that lasts days, could invite mildew...also I move away from trees, otherwise the raindrops that collide in the branches come down in bigger drops and can sound like a steady stream of rocks pinging the roof.

I'm lucky my little buddy Ivy hates rain...when she hears it coming down, it brings out a rare patience about going outside to pee, and we both wait for lulls in the downpour to go outside.

Since some coming and going is unavoidable, my wardrobe changes...I prefer trunks, T-shirts and sandals unless it's too cold, as wet clothes don't dry fast in a car...bare feet and skin can be dried off with a towel faster than wet denim and leather. I'll wear a vest or jacket mainly to not attract attention to this kook who's walking around like it's summer, and an umbrella is essential.

It's a car routine for rainy days...if Ivy and I were on foot and had to seek shelter under an overpass, the procedure would be different.

I keep most of my food in the trunk, but if rain is coming then there's a second smaller pantry on the passenger side floor...the trunk has become a drawer, so opening it in the rain means bedding and clothes get wet, and can still be damp and wet in the evening when it's time to sleep. Ivy and I can eat for days from that smaller pantry.

Garbage is dumped daily, and I make it a point to keep it up front...there's a lot of trash in parking lots these days, and homeless are often blamed for it...if an officer looks into my car, I want it obvious that my trash isn't part of the squalor outside. 

I use wipes to clean up every day, and in rainy weather switch to ones that have alcohol, which dries faster and keeps the windows from steaming up. Not that the extra privacy from the steamed windows isn't undesirable, but steamy windows attract extra attention from passing police and security thinking that some sort of fornication is going on...that it could happen in a homeless car is a pretty funny idea when you think about it...not even homeless women will pick a homeless guy in a car as a first choice for a partner, at least one that isn't a druggie...if you see fogged up windows in a homeless car, it's more likely to be pot smoke or wet clothes warmed by body heat.

Rain is often looked at in absolutes like something to get out of, needed but best enjoyed in someone else's neighborhood, or to be endured...but it's like any weather, nature always makes sure there's a silver lining in any of it's offerings.

...it's all about power...

One of the cool scenes in the Apollo 13 movie was where all the people are arguing about this or that in trying to save the astronauts, and the young guy shuts everybody up and says that all that other stuff didn't matter, it was all about power, how much electricity was left in the batteries...without it, the spacecraft wouldn't be able to land.

The scene was about what a key issue is, the essential truth, and it applies to life and homelessness...in a car, it's all about keeping it running...once the car stops running, the whole life can collapse, and end most thoughts about the future, and drop you down to the next rung.

Tow truck drivers will tell you, the start of the rainy season is one of the busiest times...mainly electrical systems that fail in the damp and wet weather.

I pay attention to the electrical system and ignition when it's raining. Casual things like running everything at once in a older car is like a drunk sailor with a months pay in a foreign port, it can lead to a dead battery, and immobility at the wrong time.

That means avoiding such things as the temptation to constantly run the car to warm it up...it has to be done once in a while of course, but my rule is use only one thing if possible at a time; if the lights and heater are on, I don't charge devices, and I try to get one of those other two things off as soon as possible.

It's not a solution per se, but a discipline...keeping stress off the battery and alternator keeps power at a good level in case the inevitable goof up occurs like leaving a dome light on...a little care can mean forgiveness later for violating Murphy's Law.

- Al Handa 1/8/17

ontheroadwithalandivy@gmail.com

The Al & Ivy Homeless Literary Journal Archive:

http://deltasnake.blogspot.com

THE IVY CORNER: Ivy seen here in her first professional photo session for the ad layouts for Eric Wilder's book, Big Easy. I'll be starting a new project Media-Entertainment project in February, more on that later!

Yes I did say that video was coming but I haven't worked out all of the bugs yet :-)

 

Many thanks to these contributors to this blog!

 

In a sales slump? Need your books to stand out from the crowd? Up Your Marketing Game with Book Banners Etc.

www.bookbannersetc.com 

Voodo chile Ivy finds it easy to love Eric Wilder's Big Easy!

http://www.ericwilder.com/

 

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