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i am going to simply type some of the entries in my little leather bound hard journal.
these short entries and poems would have been my opera journal if i were plugged in.
not all at once but now and then, because i don't want to tire you. it may be very boring fare for some.
anyhow, it starts with this poem i wrote when i worked for two days for nothing, in the hope of generating some money to rescue my car. i went around with a salesman in a car full of framed prints and helped him foist them on the businesses in the area around northern los angeles.

i knew right away that what we were really selling were the frames at an inflated price for their quality. although they looked fine, they were stamped out and mass produced at a cost of probably $5.00 apiece. our pitch was that they were leftover from designer townhouses, valued at $275 to $400. but to get rid of these 'leftovers' we were taking the price waaaay down to $75 and $125 depending on the frame. ha ha like so many businesses i've seen behind the scenes of… it's a scam. so here's my little poem.

i've seen the crass
somnambulists squeeze
gold from the honest work
of true artists

lies and fancy dancing
practiced disarming
grimaces called smiles
i have been their companion
these thieves of essence values

oh! how my conscience
squirmed to be accomplice to the remora
riding the ghosts of real artists
i sat on my mouth
not to blurt out… Run!
don't listen
invest your surplus in
living art and let the ghosts
of past visionaries rest
in paradise.

May 18th, 2005

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