“The Holy Grail” by Dante Gabriel Rosetti, c. 1860
A Flick of The Grail
And God’s green birth, seeded,
Falls from the apple tree of the sun;
The yellowing edges of the Holy Book
Shades windows from the outside
As they brighten its pages from within.
The ink is drying the tears in your eyes.
This green seed Earth, buried
Beneath layers of sound, vibrates
In between its separateness from the sun
And the shadow of the moon. In the heart
Of this sound thicket,
The green seed is seen by the spacious
Sun through the window
Where, in the star-dusted haze,
A rising solar ship’s mercurial antenna
Takes time into the past.
Please see here for more information on the work of Mark Fleury.
Peter Zokosky trained at the Otis Art Institute in Los Angeles. He has also studied cadavers in much the same way as Leonardo da Vinci, which enables him to recreate anatomy on canvas in a way few could imitate. His work has appeared in countless solo and group exhibitions. Peter has taught at the J. Paul Getty Museum and several other establishments. He is currently an instructor of Anatomy for Artists at California State, Long Beach. It was an honor to sit down with him to find more about the man behind the imagery.
Is true you peeled back the layers of a dead bird to learn more about its anatomy? Why do you think anatomy has fascinated you since an early age?
I recall, very clearly, an early obsession with things unseen and a desire to not only understand hidden forces, but to see them. Seeing and understanding went together and for me, they still do. Anatomy continues to amaze me, the idea that something that is physical; bone sinew, tissue, can get up and walk around, and that it can exhibit consciousness is very exciting, mysterious, and weird.
Diligent Ape
What were you like as a child? What are some of your fondest memories from that time?
I understand I was affectionate and pretty happy. I loved my family and spent a lot of time with my grandmother, who was very patient. I also didn’t mind being alone. I would draw and build things constantly. My sister was punished by being sent to her room, my parents quickly realized that punishment didn’t work on me; hours later they would find me drawing trees or staging battles between my legion of plastic monsters. We had a boat, and it was exhilarating to be sailing over the ocean. We also had two monkeys, and they would careen between manic and gentle.
Did you always have a love for creative things?
My parents were both artists and it was just part of our life. We had art supplies, and mom and dad would draw and paint. It was natural and I loved making things. Perhaps when you have those opportunities early on, you get a taste for the magic that art adds to your life.
Who are some of your influences?
Lots of it came from my parents and the art they would introduce us to. I remember looking at Gruenwald reproductions, Gustave Dore engravings, Basil Wolverton, Howard Pyle, the most profound influences were rather fantastic, ornate and even grotesque. I definitely leaned that way, I remember thinking Whistler was boring and Picasso was stupid, and that he couldn’t draw well.
I read somewhere that you often found yourself alone on excursions to the morgue during your art classes because most of the others didn’t care for the company of the dead. Do you find it peaceful to be among the dead? Why do you think most of the world is so afraid to actually see death? What do you find most fascinating about it?
I suppose my desire to see what we’re made of was stronger than my sense of repulsion. My first encounter with dissected bodies disturbed me somewhat, mortality is very real when you see, smell, and touch what’s left of us. I guess it’s natural to be put off by the idea of death, it keeps us clinging to what we know.
What are your own feelings and death and such? Do you believe it is a final end or that there is more to be seen?
I don’t think that I have any great insight. I think it’s likely that consciousness, like nitrogen, calcium, and everything else, is broken up, scattered, and eventually reconfigured. It doesn’t disappear, but it doesn’t stay intact either.
You have said that, “We’ll all be dead soon, so let’s experience the joy of being animated meat for these 70 years.” Do you think most people tend to forget that(that we’ll all be dead soon)? What do you enjoy most about living?
The fact that life is finite does make it precious. Of course there is suffering, pain and struggle, but it’s a magnificent struggle, and there’s just so much potential for experience, the horrid and the beautiful all mixed together. I suppose I feel most alive, and most conscious when I’m savoring the moment as it is happening.
Camel
Do people seem find your curiosity a little morbid?
Possibly, but it rarely comes up. I forget that what I enjoy can be off-putting to some, but I can’t worry about that.
Is there one subject you love to cover more than others?
It’s a big subject, and extends into every realm, and that would be duality, or more precisely, the union of opposites. The fact that duality is part of everything makes it an essential part of creative expression. To present just one side of existence, whether it’s comforting or disturbing, it’s just half the story. For life, and art, to be complete both sides have to coexist.
Siren
You have also said that the power that emanates from women is amazing to witness. Can you explain that a little further?
It’s not that I see women as exotic magical beings, but I do love and admire them. Perhaps it goes back to the duality issue and the fact that the other side is essential.
What do you find makes a person the most beautiful to behold? Do you think it goes deeper than what be seen on the surface?
I’m fascinated by the science of beauty, the notion that beauty can be measured, quantified, and analyzed is compelling, symmetry and health, hip to waist ratios, pheromones, all of that is great, but there’s still the great mystery, those things that science cannot adequately explain. I’m a big fan of science, and I think we should do our best to understand everything, but I see no risk in undermining the great mystery, it will always be there, after the explanations run out.
Attraction
What led you to become a teacher? Do you enjoy having the chance to teach others how to hone their skills?
Teaching opportunities came about naturally. I learned that I love teaching and that I seem to have an aptitude for it. I have to admit, I really like people, and I enjoy a structured setting where an exchange of information happens. I prefer a classroom to a cocktail party.
Are there any little known things about you that you’d not mind sharing with our readers?
I’m AB negative, I can accept blood from anyone, but can only give it to another AB negative, but they can, of course, accept blood from anyone. If there’s a profound metaphor there, I haven’t figured it out yet.
Monkey Skeleton
What was the best advice anyone has ever gave you?
“Think for yourself, and avoid crowds.” From my father, who lives it.
Do you have a dream projects you’d most like to bring into being before your time is up?How do you hope to be remembered when your time comes? What would you like your last words to be if you had a say in that?
The trouble here is, I lack a sense of priorities. Every project I think of seems like it’s the greatest thing ever. Every week there’s a new idea that would take years to accomplish, and it always seems like it will be worth all the effort, but then, of course, a week goes by and there’s another “greatest thing ever” project. It’s likely that I’ll have way more unrealized dream projects than actual finished projects. I like to think there will be some good stuff left and my last words will be “I just need a little more time, since the greatest thing ever just came to me…”
Anything else you’d like to say in closing?
I appreciate the opportunity to express some thoughts and I’m impressed that you, the reader, got this far. Thanks for your time, I hope it was interesting.
Valerhon grew up in a small, remote Colorado town where he spent much of his free time reading ancient history and mythology. and writing stories of the worlds he dreamed up. Never serious about art his perspective changed in the 1990’s when he began writing and illustrating roleplay games, magazine articles and, collectible card games such as Alien vs. Predator, Babylon 5, Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time, and Tomb Raider among others.
He became a full time freelancer in 2007 creating digital paintings that have now become his trademark. He has worked with several well known photographers, transforming their works into a hybrid of realism and supernatural.
His favorite themes are mythology, religion, and transhumanist ideas. He currently resides in Phoenix, AZ in a house whose interior design is a mythic forest. He’s a huge fan of Calvin and Hobbes.
(“I have sometimes quoted myself with great gravity”):
Drive thy Employees,
let not them drive thee
We have no Gains
without their Pains
Our To-day is worth their To-morrows
“Industry need not wish”
as long as there be such a thing as advertising,
thus it is
“The artificial Wants of Mankind thus become
more numerous than the natural”
and,
as a just result,
“God gives all Things to Industry”
“The [spying] Eye of a Master
will do more Work than both [your] Hands”;
even so
“be ashamed that a good Master should catch you idle”
“Be industrious and free;
be frugal and free”
“when you run into debt
You give to another
Power over your Liberty”
“rather go to Bed supperless than rise in Debt”
“you will no longer complain of bad times,
or
the Difficulty of paying Taxes”
They who won’t be so counselled,
can’t be helped
Michael Ceraolo is a 55-year old firefighter/paramedic/poet who has had one full-length book (Euclid Creek, from Deep Cleveland Press) and a few shorter-length books published, plus numerous magazine publications. This poem is from his Twenty-First Century Editions, re-writings of various political, religious, and literary works for the twenty-first century.
Georgina Flood, 35, is a native of Dublin , Ireland. She lives there with her husband Gary and daughter Mia. Georgina is a self taught, graphite artist. Inspired by her Dad’s artistic skills, Georgina has had a lifetime ambition to be a portrait artist. Georgina made her debut in the U.S., in August, at the Chicago Fest for Beatles Fans. That was followed by a guest appearance at The Beatles Convention in Liverpool.
She donated an original of John and Yoko, “Love is Real”, for Yoko’s charity, City Meals on Wheels. Yoko’s awareness and acceptance of Georgina marked the third time that a Beatle – or in this case a spouse – has accepted her work. In 1998, Ringo accepted a portrait by Georgina, while onstage. His graciousness extended to asking Georgina to stand up and take a bow.
In 2011, Georgina was asked by a friend and author, to illustrate the cover of her book, written about Paul McCartney. McCartney can be seen in photos,accepting the book .
As Paul celebrated his 70th birthday this year, English rocker, Paul Weller (formerly of The Jam) covered The Beatles song, “Birthday”. Weller’s cover version was done for charity and appeared on both Apple iTunes and Amazon. Weller asked Georgina to use her work of Sir Paul,titled, “The Fool”, to be used as the cover art.
Towns took me in, but never for more than a few days. The townspeople were generous, but they did not wish to harbor a fugitive from the horseman. I did not blame them. I would have done the same, in their position.
I saw slim girls swimming in a shallow pond. Their bright eyes, their angling backs, the archery of their bodies: the scene drew my interest. Their throats emitted shrieks: I thought, Pain! But no, this was not pain. The water grew red. I thought, Save them! Help them! But they refused my assistance even before I offered it, refused without even knowing of my presence in the hedges. I stalked off, and they never saw me. The horseman was quick on my trail. I heard their screams behind me, and I thought, Joy! I did not turn to confirm this; in retrospect I regret the lapse.
I thought, Apocalypse has come! For some of the cities were in ruins. But then there were the thriving metropoli to thwart my theory. Yet——I knew Armageddon was biding,—in the despairless throngs, in the grim mouths of the streets through which throbbed the tired traffic tongues, in the rust squeals of the mayors’ bones, in the satisfaction of the winos, in the writhing rainbow skies of twilight. The cities slept by day, and at night arose in hideous bodies, syphilitic, asthmatic, languid and shuddering weak, but strong enough to stroke their organs, to climax in the dawn, to fade (gratefully) into that fitful sunlit slumber. The cities did not take me in, nor expel me. But they answered the horseman’s queries as to my whereabouts, to the best of their knowledge: they saw no profit in protecting me, and possibly feared the horseman’s reprisal should they be less than honest. I did not blame them. I would have done the same, in their position.
I heard the hunt crashing through the brambles of the wood. I hid. Near me was a bleeding boy. He gasped and shook, and the galloping blasts of firearms in the distance shocked and swept him swooning. I took the boy up in my arms, and noted he was light. I carried him all night through the gaps between the trees, from gap to gap, traversing the gaps. The boy slept peacefully in my arms, and his blood stained my shirt, but it was old blood, for the bleeding had stopped. I licked his wound, confident he would not wake to my tongue. I found I enjoyed the taste of his blood, so I probed at the wound with the tip of my tongue until its seam burst and new blood seeped out. This invigorated me, and I traversed the gaps at a far greater pace. But the horseman was quick on my trail, and I dropped the boy. The boy still slept on the ground where he landed. I found a way out of the wood, and behind me I heard the horseman and the boy. I should not have dropped him. He may have had a sister, as I have a sister.
I stumbled into a vast network of caverns in which dwelt men with slight bodies, attenuated limbs, milky flesh. They fed me, and medicated and clothed me. Their bodies were so soft. I slept on them; they gladly played my mattress: it was their pleasure. As I slept, the softness of their bodies softened; a cool, liquescent soma flowed into my breath. My body filled with inhalations that weighed me to the rock and would not let me rise. When I awoke, perspiring and thirsty, I fell asleep again. When I awoke a second time, merely thirsty, I dipped my tongue in the puddle that had formed around me. I slept again, and rose refreshed. But I did not pause to enjoy my state; for I could hear the horseman in the tunnels now, and already my good health pursued the wane.
A mountain loomed in my way, and I began to climb. I did not stop to rest, not once, but plummeted inversely with the very gravity of the horseman, which sought to drag me back down that mountainside. When I reached the top, I discovered a cabin nestled in the rocks. A blind hermit lived there. He took me in. He did not demand I leave. I told him of the horseman, for I am honest, although fugitive. He laughed. He told me, I know of this horseman. I too have been in his clutches. I too have escaped. Suddenly, I felt uneasy. I told the hermit I could not stay. He told me, You will be safe here. The horseman will never reach here. I told the hermit I must leave. He grabbed at my arm, but I shook him off. He lunged at me, but since he was blind it was easy to evade him. I heard his howls for hours as I stumbled down the other side of the mountain. I did not blame him. I would have done the same, in his position.
I thought, Apocalypse has come! For before me, on a plain, armies were assembling for war. Flames serrated the horizon, and the sky was a spectrum from crimson to black. I walked through the encampments, and no one noticed me. A tearful woman performed a tracheatomy on a convulsing toddler. A naked boy beat a drum with his erect member before an audience of haggard men. An amputated soldier practiced swordplay. A priest tore his vestments on a protruding nail and cursed. Some of the tents were squirming. A dead whore lay in the street, and a crouching girl attempted to wrench some rings from the swollen fingers. The armies could be seen out on the field, beginning the engagement. I heard the metal sounds, and the ground sounds, and the throat sounds: they floated in on a gentle breeze of stench. Some hags were sweeping, some children brawling, some women popping bouillon cubes. Armageddon bided here. But I knew the horseman would come anyway.
I came into a valley where the dead lived. My mother approached me with welcoming arms. She did not speak, but implored me with her eyes. I spat in her face, and knew she was no one’s mother. You would have done the same, in my position.
I will not always run. Sometime, the horse will tire.
Yarrow Paisley lives in the Pioneer Valley of Western Massachusetts. His work has appeared in various and sundry places, online and in print. Honors of which he’s proud include having been nominated for prizes, having been translated into Portuguese, and serving as a Guest Editor for the online literary journal Gone Lawn. His website is http://yarrowpaisley.com.
Dip your fingers into the cool darkness that winter has breathed upon us,
When each shivering star has come to seek you out
And the owls swivel their heads with lamp-lit eyes
…This will be our time-
Haunted too, soft spoken as moans that murmur secrets,
Vibrating sighs of drowsy content and of hours spent
Laid beside each other in the frosted earth-
I shall call you forth from sleep…. From fields of unknowing
Where each moment will have its hour, each mouth its kiss…
Where in some other unspoken territory my body has become yours,
And within the dark tide of the sky, we wear our nocturnal speech.
Lily Kurdach is a writer, a poet, an artist, oris one of these incarnations on most days. Much of her work can be found under the name “VampireLily”and is featured on her website, online, and in various rags that have been shoved under various couches and park benches through-out the United States. She digs public displays of humanity, cursing in public places and is a proud advocate of creative punctuation. She prefers darkness to light, a hard laugh over a weak cry and will take sharp wit over a dull comment on any day. Oh, and she loves to create and is grateful to all of the other people on this beautiful planet who love to create as well. Lily can be found at: http://www.VampireLily.com
Ray Ramos is a man of many talents. Over the years he has worked as an actor, director, photographer, playwright, and producer. His most recent work appears in the play To Love Somebody and the music video Call Out to Me by Rosendo. He is currently working on a novella titled Tom Sugarland’s Memorable Christmas, which is slated for release on Amazon soon. His 20 plus years in the entertainment industry have led him to cross paths with many fascinating, well known individuals. He also currently maintains the site: http://www.thatmanray.blogspot.com/
Can you tell us a little about your background?
I was born in Santa Monica. I grew up in Venice, California, a child of the 60’s and 70’s. Geographically speaking, I’ve always somehow been in or around the entrainment industry. I’ve worked many jobs supporting the industry somehow in some fashion: ABC TV, The Directors Guild of America, The Ambassador Hotel, which was the number one film location in Los Angeles, before it was torn down by the city, a few years back. Those jobs were great, but they didn’t fulfill me creatively. I was in denial for many years, and it took me a long time to get back on track to doing what I really loved doing… so here we are.
What were you like as a child? What are some of your fondest memories from that time?
Looking back, I think I was a kid full of imagination, like most kids, I was enamored by the pop culture of the day; Batman, James Bond, the Dean Martin Show, the Beverly Hillbillies. The soundtrack to those days came courtesy of an AM radio station in L.A. called KHJ. The Doors song Light My Fire seemed to be on every car radio in my memory. When it comes on the radio, I always get a flashback to those times, and it makes me feel good. Even though we had the Vietnam War raging, for me as a kid back then it was a time of innocence.
What first sparked your interest in the entertainment industry?
I got sucked into movies, TV whatever? I remember one Thanksgiving at my grandparents house, NBC showed the movie, The Vikings with Kirk Douglas. It was exciting first off because my grandparents had a color TV! It was the first movie that I remember watching the whole way through. That’s entertainment! It was so damn exciting for me, as a little kid, kinda like Star Wars would be? Pretending to be a Viking, swinging a sword around, and walking across boat ores on the fjords… what I aspired for as a kid playing along on the canals of Venice. I like the idea of entertaining, by telling a story. All those old TV shows when I was a kid; Mannix, The Fugitive, Lost in Space, The Night Stalker with Darren McGavin, Rod Serling’s The Twilight Zone… they just helped fuel my imagination… they still do.
How did you first come to be involved in it?
I did the high school drama bit… I was actually voted best actor at Mark Twain, Jr. High… let that read in my obituary. I first thought I was gonna be the next James Dean, then when the original Saturday Night Live came out; that influenced the kind of road I wanted to take at the time. The whole James Dean thing went out the window! I was always better at being funny than serious, just like in real life. It didn’t win me any popularity contests in drama class. But those early SNL guys, John Belushi, Bill Murray… they were doing crazy funny shit. So that’s what me and my comedy partner, Bill Rapada would try and do. After I got out of school, we started hitting the Comedy Store in Westwood (no longer there) and other places like that. I studied at performed with an Improv company, The L.A. Connection… and did a little radio too; which I loved and was very comfortable doing. I had a friend who was an agent for a while, and and I went out a lot of auditions. After a while, I drifted out of that whole scene, with the exception of writing scripts. I would occasionally do stand up, here and there, but there were certain aspects of it that I didn’t love… I haven’t done it in years, but sometimes I miss it. Most recently, I’ve been writing and producing plays, I’ve started up doing some acting again. It’s been fun.
Photo by John Szewczyk
How has entertainment changed in the last decade?
It’s a lot more complicated. And it’s changed it so many ways: more outlets with cable TV and now the internet stuff… its busted wide open. The old Hollywood ways are over… too many things to get into. Except I will say on a positive note, now anyone can play. Technology has let everyone in the sand box. If Orson Welles were alive today he’d be doing projects left and right. You can look at it was a new golden age in a way.
As someone who has worked as an actor, director, photographer, producer, and playwright do you prefer one over the others?
I love doing whatever I’m doing at the moment. But writing is my first love, because I have all of these characters, stories, and ideas in my head. I’ve had a fertile imagination since I was a kid. These days I think I’ve been harnessing that talent more… things seem to be flowing. I’m starting to say, “Fuck it”; I’ll just do my own projects. When you can make something out of nothing, and have it materialize into something that you’re proud for people to see… that’s living! I was lucky to come in contact with so many amazing people in my many lives, it’s been inspiring. To work on a film with someone like David Mamet (Ramos worked on Mamet’s 2004 film, Spartan), if you’re any kind of creative person, you have to take something from that, right?
What are some of your favorite subjects when it comes to photography?
That’s hard for me to say. I love photographing people, and trying to capture that magic thing about them in a split second. But I also love shooting street life as it happens…. To get that decisive moment, like Henry Catier Bresson. One of the best times I’ve ever had was going to Cuba with my camera. Trying to capture that world with street photography was amazing.
Brittany Murphy @ Ambassador Hotel, Photo by Ray Ramos
I understand you were rather close to Brittany Murphy. What was she like as a person? Are there any stories of her you’d like to share with our readers? How do you think she’d most like to be remembered?
I just adored her. Her death still is unbelievable to me. I met her when she came to do a still shoot at the Ambassador Hotel. I was working there at the in the filming department. We just hit it off. After that, she loved coming to the hotel for her shoots and would actually request to be shot there. Brittany was a fan of the old Hollywood stuff. I must say that she was the single most talented person that I had ever met. She literally could do everything. She could act, sing, make you laugh, make you cry. She was a throw back to someone like Judy Garland. She was a hugger; she would hug you with all of the strength in her little body. I truly can still feel her hugging me. The last time I spoke to her, I called her office number to invite her to a screening of my girlfriend’s (at the time) short film. And a most polite English girl answered the phone, who I assumed was her new assistant. Every time I’d say something she’d say thank you to the point it was comical, like a comedy skit on SNL. Finally on the other end of the phone, I hear a giggle, and I hear, “It’s me Brittany! She was full of mischief. Unfortunately, that was the last time I ever spoke to her. For all of the success and fame she had; she just wanted someone to love her. I think she got the wrong guy. She shouldn’t have gone out the way she did… I still haven’t had the heart to take her flowers.
What are your feelings on death and such? How do you hope to be remembered when your own time comes?
I’ve been fortunate enough to come from a large family. But on the flip side that means eventually a lot of funerals. My family has had their share of tragedy too. I had an uncle, named Anthony who was two years older than I. We grew up together, and I looked up to him as an older brother. He was murdered when he was twenty-two. That was rough; I ended up getting anxiety attacks until I figured out how to deal with it. Some folks think I’m crazy because I believe in ghosts and such. I’ve used ghosts in my writing…. So I guess I have a fascination with the hereafter. My one act play, The Girl in the Attic, (from the show To Love Somebody) dealt with that with Anne Frank. Does anyone know? When my grandfather was ill I flew out to see him for the weekend. He was living with my uncle in Tucson at the time. And we were sitting in his room watching an old Roy Rogers movie on TV. And he asks me who that lady is standing at the door… I look over and there’s no lady. The hair’s on the back of my neck stood up… my grandfather died two days later. He insisted someone was standing there, that I did not see. I think someone came to get him. Death is the last great adventure or mystery. If I think of it that way, I’m not as afraid of it, as I used to be. Not that I’m in any hurry to leave yet. But, I’ve had people that I loved like, Brittany Murphy come to me in my sleep and visit me, and when I woke I felt a sense of calmness.
You have met many interesting people in your line of work. Which of them have made the most lasting impression on you?
In my life in one way or another, I’ve encountered most of the most famous people in show business. Growing up in L.A. helped out a lot. My mom loved John Wayne, so when I was a kid, I won tickets to take her to see him in person at a screening of the movie, The Cowboys. I’ll always remember that. I always loved the old stars from when I was a kid. Robert Mitchum made a huge impression on me when I met him as a kid. The guy you saw on the screen that was him. Gregory Peck and Audrey Hepburn I loved. I was lucky to spend time with them when I used to work on the Academy Awards. I used to work with the talent who were presenters. Clint Eastwood and James Coburn; they just don’t make guys like that anymore… they just don’t. So all those guys still loom large with me… The first feature script that I wrote was a project that I wanted to do with Coburn. Unfortunately I never got it going and he passed on. Although it was nice that when I was working at the Oscars, that I was the person who took him up to meet the press that night he won his award for Best Supporting actor (for Affection.) I was lucky to spend a little time with some classic people. The director Tony Scott, who tragically just passed away this year was another person that I loved, and will miss. I first heard him speak after a screening when I worked at the Directors Guild of America back in the 90’s (meeting, all kinds of amazing directors.) And I really just dug his whole out outlook on the craft of filmmaking. Later when I moved over to the Ambassador, trying to sell the site as a location for film shoots. I was fortunate to spend some time with Tony Scott. He was very forthcoming as a person. He brought you into his vision, but he would also ask your opinion, “What do you think?” He was another person who was a throwback to another time. Tony could have been just as successful working in silent films, working on stuff like Ben Hur with a cast of thousands. He had a dream project; Tom mix and Pancho Villa. It was gonna be his Lawrence of Arabia. That was exactly the kind of project that I like writing. So I wrote a spec version of it to give him.
I worked on it for years, I would ask him questions about it when I’d see him, ask him about casting; he had wanted Leonardo Di Caprio for Tom Mix and Javier Bardem for Pancho Villa. I was dropping hints for Tony to cast actor Jim Caviezel (now on the CBS Television show, Person of Interest.) Sadly, Tony never knew that I had been writing my own epic version for him. I think he would have dug it, it had a mystical quality about it… and in fact again, it had a scene that was reminiscent to the story that I mentioned with my grandfather… But I never could get the beginning of the script the way I wanted; so I never gave it to him… so that will always be a heartbreak.
What is the best advice anyone ever gave you? Who was it?
I heard it in a movie; “If you can’t get out of it; get into it.” But they also said in that same movie; “If you can’t fix it, fuck it!” Both great words of advice.
Any little known things about yourself you’d like to share with us?
On the trivia end of the spectrum; I once auditioned to be on the cast of the TV show, In Living Color. My agent said hey, go down to 20th Century Fox, they want you to audition. I thought he was joking. It was after The Wayans Brothers and Jim Carrey had left the show, and they needed new people. But Jamie Foxx was still on the show. That would have been cool working with him. Also when I was a kid my dream job was to be the guy with the pith helmet at the front of the boat on the Jungle Cruise ride at Disneyland… I still dream of having that gig. I’m kidding… but kinda not.
What do you think is the most challenging thing in dealing with the world of today?
We all know the world is in trying times. It’s never been as crazy as it’s been these days. It scares the shit out of me! We’re getting hit from all sides. But I think our biggest challenge is finding the truth and who to trust. We have a hundred different people telling us a hundred different things.
Tony Scott @ Ambassador Hotel, Photo by Ray Ramos
Can you tell us a little about Tom Sugarland’s Memorable Christmas? Who is Tom Sugarland exactly?
Well yes, that’s my newest project. It started out as a short story but, I liked the characters so much it’s now a novella, which will be out as an ebook on Amazon, most likely in the fall. Like most people who go the creative route, I took a job that was a little out of the ordinary. I managed a Santa photo both at a local mall. After the first day, I said to myself there has to be a story in this situation. The Santa, I was working with was great, but he was very tall and wasn’t really fat, but he had his own whiskers. That got me thinking what if some macho guy like, Sam Elliott was a Santa Claus? And that’s how I usually start every story, with a character that I like. I’m a sentimental guy, I love Christmas. It should be a magic time where people have a little extra magic; where there’ a little more hope to be had. Like a little Frank Capra movie. I’ve always wanted to write something like that. I also wanted to write something that took place in my hometown of Venice. So Tom Sugarland is an old surfer, and a classic old school Venice guy. He’s finds himself a little down on his luck, and out of sorts. He’s without a job and hasn’t even surfed in over a year. He’s offered a temporary job right before Thanksgiving as Santa Claus at the mall and without too many more options decides to take it. It’s also the story of a young Jewish girl named, Yasmine, who gets a job working as one of Santa’s little helpers. She’s also has found herself alone and little lost in her life during the holidays. After several turn of events, the two form a quirky bond that might take their lives on totally different directions by the end of the year. I guess it’s also an homage to all of the wonderful Jewish women that have been in my life over the years. I think it’s a very funny fable with heart.
What other projects are you currently working on?
I’ve got a few things that I’m kinda working on. I’m in the beginning stages of writing on a one man show. I also have plans on expanding my show The Big Woogie, Room 509… all about one crazy night in Los Angeles’s The Ambassador Hotel in the 1920’s. And it looks like I’ll be back producing a play (with my partner Stan Matasavage) this summer at The Raven Playhouse in North Hollywood. Alara Ceri, who was one of the great talents in my last show, To Love Somebody, has written a terrific play about all the pitfalls of coming out to Hollywood to pursue acting. It’s called Hollywood Positive, so look out for it. That’ll be a kick to work on. It makes me feel so great, when people get inspired to do their own projects…try and take control of their own careers. And I’m crazy enough to try make some kind of film project this year… though I really need to get on the ball with that soon! When I worked at the Directors Guild, I used to go to the Sundance and Slamdance Film Festivals every year. I always wanted to take something there to show. So I just gotta make it happen. I know enough talented people, who I would think would lend a hand. At this point, I’m all about making things happen. I try and keep the Orson Welles dream alive… to just create. Thank you, Tina.
From the hot sweat of wild rose—
neon pink blot like the cyclamen
that startled the young me in the cool
forest of Alps,
to the trampled honeysuckle rush—
two deer, curved bodies, outstretched necks
and heads flashing by in heat
on my suburban hill.
From the just-awakened June lupine,
the purple perianth climbing up,
a pregnant belly popping out in its petal
envelope, swelling into fruit,
to the off-white butterflies clasped
on the freshly dug patch
where clover spread yesterday,
I am budding, blooming, ripening
in my mirror garden,
transformed by each scent,
tingling in my soles not touching the earth.
Danuta writes poems and prose, translates between English and Polish, and enjoys artistic photography. Her poems have been published in numerous literary journals and anthologies in the USA, Poland, and Ireland. Her photographs have been featured in several shows in galleries in Maryland, where she resides, and in Poland. Her translations of poems by three Maryland Poets Laureate – Lucille Clifton, Josephine Jacobsen, and Linda Pastan – have been published in Poland; translations of poems by Lidia Kosk, and Ernest Bryll have appeared in over 50 journal and anthology publications in the U.S.A.
When there will be night,
we will claim the promise
of the setting sun
we will claim
our foot-soldiers
and the ones
who stayed inside waiting to be
counted
we will claim them on
both sides of this opaque wall
all those
who refused its opaqueness,
its night, and saw through
we would be counting them too.
II
We will not deny
that tonight
we are not the equal side
by the local measurements they use
but we know,
that on old papyrus,
on the balance-sheet of history,
we add up to more
and the longer this night lasts,
we will let its darkness spill around us
darkness come out from our homes
from our eyes,
and then, sharp like falling stars,
cut through their days,
their pillars,
clouds
we shall refuse to cover our dead
with the shrouds of their making,
of their words
and
of all this
their accounting of our loss
we will promise this to our night,
that when
the sun comes,
we will be taking its light to the witness stand
and ask if the dead that do not die of age
leave the rest to die of memory
and on that day which will promise us
the land,
the long life,
we will say to it with immaculate precision, ‘no,’
‘good lives, sir,
brave, knowing lives, sir, are here – so often – not long
and long lives, sir, today
are not the subject of my song.’
(after Rafeef Ziadah)
Akhil Katyal is a writer based in Delhi where is also teaches literature at St. Stephen’s College, Delhi University. His bilingual Hindi and English poetry collection is forthcoming with Vani Prakashan (2013). His poems and fiction have been published by national and international journals like The Houston Literary Review, The Literateur, The Minetta Review, The Nether Magazine and Muse India.
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