Long update

It’s been a busy couple of weeks, folks, both in terms of creativity and lots of things going on. In this entry, I’m going to hit the highlights, then hopefully get back to my regular postings tomorrow. This post is a long one, but probably not as long as the individual posts would have been.

My wife and I were on vacation in Las Vegas from the 14th through the 19th, celebrating my stepson’s plunge into true adulthood. Overall, the trip went well; thanks to a royal flush on a nickel machine and some generous slot club comps from the Frontier hotel, we actually netted only a small loss and still got to see Lord of the Dance before it closed. My stepson hit two royal flushes on the same nickel machine on consecutive days, so he actually came home with more money than he took.

Normally, I would stop by to see my parents, who live outside Las Vegas. Unfortunately, they were gone the entire time I was there, because my Uncle Wayne passed away on the 12th. I wish I had gotten to see them, but I’m glad my parents were able to be with the rest of the family during that time.

While in Vegas, on the 16th, my stepson and I were trapped on the 103rd floor of the Stratosphere for nearly an hour. He wanted to ride the Big Shot on top of the hotel (by the way, did I mention that he’s insane?) He rode the ride, and we hung out on the observation deck (108th floor) for a while afterward, enjoying the view and watching the lights come up on the Strip. While we were lounging, the fire alarms went off and emergency strobe lights started flashing. After about 30 seconds, they went off, but then came on again and didn’t stop. I noted that no one seemed panicky, despite the fact that we were 1150 feet up in the air in a prime terrorist target.

Of course, when the alarms went off, the elevators (and the air conditioning, I think) automatically shut off, so we couldn’t get down. We followed the instructions to take the stairs to the 103rd floor, where about 25 of us waited with little information in a small, hot room for about 45 minutes. We were told we could not take the stairs to the bottom because it was not an emergency situation, despite the flashing strobes and alarms. Eventually, the alarms stopped, but the strobes continued and the elevators would not stop on our floor. No one really got out of control or upset, though one woman (I think she was from New York) underwent a panic attack and one security guard was rather rude and short with us.

Eventually they got the elevators reset and allowed us to go back down to the bottom of the hotel, where the tower manager refunded our money, but “didn’t have the authority” to do anything else for us. We also got an apology from the head of security for the actions of his rude employee.

Monday night, the 22nd, I got a call from my buddy Brad the Drummer. He was filling in on a gig for a band called DaNte SpUmAnTe on the 23rd at Herman’s Hideaway, and their regular guitarist was suddenly unavailable. Herman’s is well-known in Denver as a showcase club. They encourage original music with a weekly New Talent Showcase, and they feature national acts on a regular basis. Brad asked me if I would like to play with DaNte SpUmAnTe at the New Talent Showcase — the next night.

The chance to play at Herman’s was too good to pass up, so I told him I would be right over to go through the songs. The challenge before me was to learn six original songs, then perform them live in less than 24 hours, but I did it. The songwriter and keyboardist came over to Brad’s and we spun through all six songs, then I took at tape home and practiced until about 3 AM.

I think the gig went pretty well, all things considered. However, my opinion is colored by the fact that I had such a short time to prepare. I’m sure DaNte SpUmAnTe wished they had their regular guitarist with them, though they were very grateful for the help on short notice.

On the 28th, my stepson moved into his own apartment, which freed up his room as an office again. I spent the evening of the 29th moving furniture and bookshelves from the master bedroom into the spare room so I can make it into an office. I’m really looking forward to that, because it means I will have some “me space” for playing music, writing, reading, or just getting away from the rest of the world. I crave solitude sometimes, and it will be nice to have a place to go where I know no one else will be. Also, it gives me space to use my exercise bike again. Here’s the plan: Get up at 5:30 AM, exercise for 15-30 minutes, write for 30-45 minutes, then prepare for work. We’ll see how well that plan works out.

Airborne Explorer

Played music with Brad the Drummer at his house for a while, but closed it off early. Unfortunately, on the way home I saw where someone had driven a Ford Explorer into the crowd at a car show I like to attend occasionally. (There was a Denver Post story that used to link here, but the story is no longer on the Post website.) Rumor has it that he did it on purpose, being drunk and upset that he was asked to leave the car show. Original estimates placed his vehicle at 90 mph, but the news article says 60 mph. Either way, it was enough to get the Explorer airborne over the landscaping before it landed on several classic cars, injuring eight people.

I haven’t slept well since.

It bothers me that the thought to do something like this even occurred the driver of the Explorer. No matter how drunk or pissed off he was, it shouldn’t even be conceivable to drive an SUV into a crowd of people at a high rate of speed. It’s amazing to me that no one was killed, though one man was pinned under the vehicle and in critical condition when taken to the hospital. (According to the above story, he pulled through and is stable, thank God.)

It also bothers me that the passenger in the vehicle has still not been apprehended, according to the Post story. How hard can it be for the police to get the driver to tell them the name of his passenger? Or perhaps he has been apprehended by now, but the news has been overshadowed by the nearly 100,000 acres of wildfires burning in nine different places in Colorado as I write this.

I can’t help but wonder whether the events of September 11th influenced, however slight, the mindset of the driver. If we had not been inundated with visuals of commercial airliners crashing into the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center, would he have even thought of using his car as an airborne weapon?

That sounds alarmist to me, and I don’t intend that to be the case. I’m just trying to make sense out of something that makes no sense at all to me.

Platonic Relationship

Platonic Relationship

Plato strove within the grove to teach
His young students of life
How one foot in the soot and one in the clouds
creates balance and lessens the strife

In our walk on the block path of
Personal growth.
Still, we’re rarely aware that to grow,
We need both

A fiery desire for spiritual things and an
Eye to agreements we’ve built.
All too often we soften commitments to one,
And in the other plunge deep to the hilt.

It is easy and pleasing to stay on the ground
Ignoring the ways to higher self
Or hang out in the clouds with our crystals and shrouds
Putting Earthly cares up on a shelf.

I stand with my hand ’round a disconnect tag
Left by some gone electrical truck,
Blink my eyes, realize that I’m stretching to grow
But my butt is stuck firmly in muck.

— Stace Johnson, 1993

Mollie

Mollie

The high mountain Earth seeps
Blood-red mud
After her molybdenum
Rape.

The rapist does
Nothing but chuckle
And ask, “Did you
Climax?”

— Stace Johnson, 1987


 

A note about this poem:

A couple of people have mentioned to me that this poem bothered them because of the rape references, so I decided I’d better create some context.

On the route from Denver to Durango via Leadville lies the Climax Molybdenum Mine. Tailings ponds from the mine step down the valley on the north side of the mountain, and on one trip through there I was disgusted by the lack of respect for the area’s natural beauty. As I rounded a corner, a spring bubbled out of the ground by the road, soaking the iron-rich soil and turning it a deep, dark red.

From here, you can probably put all the pieces together, and see that this is really not a poem about violent male-female interaction, but about the negative aspects of large scale mining.