By Paul Yamada
Prelude It’s not just the lake and the park it’s not about residence, no or physical dwelling, abode perturbations and back spasms will follow you like perfume on the tongue, shirt cuffs and pant legs if there is nowhere to write here is there somewhere, anywhere else? Where the light does break and you wake reviled by mediocrity refreshed and ready for breakfast tea? ‘sur lat tete’, or ‘in animam’ isn’t this really all the same? relax enjoy the pain your’re not in it for any fame --Easy, Action!— Intro The coffees dripped exchanges quipped cigarettes sucked the muses serve our tongues obey loud angry tenor sax comes blaring out conjoins the smoke rings, helping us to sing the conversation the convocation Logs, Logos, Mono “I won’t be mute like the scads of kids I sat with in class who talked through the Renoir film and ‘didn’t get it’. like they were gonna. Goethe says there’s light— does it seep through the pain and Irish shots, and loud angry jazz? I won’t wear a yellow sash --more light, more light— or is that the projector going off? It’s not just: your feelings, your poem, your life in gestures you can comprehend Gimmie a T Gimmie an E Gimmie an X Gimmie a T What’s that spell? F you! What’s that spell? F you! I’m proud of my ability to say ‘No’. but it usually comes after I’ve said ‘Yes’. and spent too much time in a state of acquiesce. And now, why do I want to stay when I used to know I had to go? why do I walk away? for two hour rear end parking? estranged from the certainty of unshared relations previously called a lover? Why do I want expression? when mockery has been so easy?” The Female Chorus, Dressed In White The greatest singers Come at you from three places The head The Heart The crotch More Mono, Less Dolby “No one’s inner life should end up a parable even the N.T. says if I know not love what have I gained. It cannot go on my head cannot lead when my heart and crotch no longer fulfill; cold, numb from neglect.” Radio On If I could get my mouth To convince my head To believe in every word it said I wouldn’t be so glum I could glow for awhile “I have jumpedback the path I crossed I want no substitute for love I need to wish upon a star I need a life both smooth and rough. How much must I remake and remodel? How to reregister the impulsive? I know what I want and I’m afraid. Can I want for myself and want you, too? When I look at you I can barely see Light surrounds, encapsulates you to me.” Radio On Your toy balloon Has sailed in the sky, love But now it must fall to the ground Now your sad eyes must reveal Just how badly you feel ‘cause There is no easy way down Ode To Joy Things must be cancelled now relatives will ask, “what?” and, “how?” April will be the cruelest month and you must change, and you must move anger and confusion will frequent your life like meat on the grill and jug wine keep moving, keep moving your heart is not Donner’s pass don’t inspect the remains of that relationship until you are free to love and you both must know love even if it tears you apart which may be a gentle prospect compared to the emotional explosion and implosion that May follow months, like perfume seemingly hidden, but not so causing severe reaction with no attendant afterglow causing pain, and fear and dismay exchange is the only way out it will not be simple—trust this— but it may not be too complex heart to heart, fluid, hit and miss all feelings will bruise, everything will ache the head will remember, the heart will take say no to Troilus’ and Cressida’s excess and the crotch will sit this one out, capiche? The Female Chorus Has Donned Pink Chiffon --an American Graffiti moment— And turned the Radio On Talk to me Talk to me Hold me close Whisper low Let’s Talk About Love Whether it comes at you from Al Green or Socrates “love” is a dangerous word very, extremely dangerous Like “all”. or “always”, or “never”, “love” has meanings, properties which explode, inopportunely making shrapnel of its meanings making its parsings particulate matter Add “forever”, And it becomes An Aristotelian bad dream “I’ll never love you” “I’ll always love you” “I’ll love you forever” “I love you” “Love me” “All of me” “Love” The Universal Fails To Save The Day So just do it, let your heart conflate the mind and crotch explore those reasons the heart has that the mind does not know, know, know wrap your heart and mind around Pascal’s ideas explore the day, the flesh perilous but beautiful ‘cause love, love will tear you apart, again Radio Off
About the Author
Independent scholar and cultural critic Paul Yamada has spent thirty years in different areas of the music business, in the midwest and the east. A founding editor of the pioneering rock zine Terminal Zone (1976-78), Paul has written on blues, rock, soul, jazz, and avant-garde music. In addition, Yamada has written on cinema, art, and theater for a wide variety of local and national publications in Chicago, New York, St. Louis, and Washington DC. He has consulted for National Public Radio, the Library of Congress and the Smithsonian Institution, as well as the Washington DC Performing Arts Society and Chicago area theater groups. His current projects include a Chicago project, Wholesome, (WholesomeZine and WholesomeRadio) which will include music revues, essays, visual arts and streamed radio shows.