DANCING ALONE TO MY UNFINISHED SONG

It is a good day when I find you in my mind

It is a bad day when you have been there too long

Right or wrong, you are ... unfinished song.

You are constantly in my heart

Yet music from the other side

Keeps the real from being you.

Images stay in my heart and in my head

You are part of me yet I am puzzled why you stay.

The band leaves and

you reach to me from an empty stage

My heart soars

But, then you go away!

Time goes by and I don't think of you at all

Then suddenly there you are:

A poster on a city wall

A song you've sung

A dance routine I see someone do.

An Asian woman wearing blue--

Your picture in a magazine

Snuggling couples on the Bart Train

And then I have a good day

and a bad day

as I revisit my unfinished song.

Dancing to the crowds' music

I ask for a moonlight walk with you,

Real that never is.

I know I cannot control my loving you

and

I believe loving you is not wrong

and I know

Loving you may be my detour---

Loving you, my muse, is my unfinished song.

you are always my favorite surprise,

and

Loving you sometimes has taken my breath away

Love is surprises and that is but its way--

I ask myself,

"Will you ever come?

And will you ever go?"

And, then I realize ...

the rest of my song

is only for God to hear

for

it disappears all on its own

into Country music that plays loudly on the other side.

(Nov. 15th, 2010. Recently during meditations, thinking about Spirit Guides, sitting on my bed just before putting myself down for the night, I happened to look up behind my right shoulder where my muses' picture hangs high on the wall--I try not to focus on it frequently now. Wow! the energy that beamed down on me from that picture had me exclaiming outloud and almost knocked me off the bed. Now I am thinking about you, her, more again. And, the picture is dusted off and clean. Further, I have worked a lot recently on this poem. However, I have decided not to include most of the new stuff here; so, if anyone has a commercial lyrical interest in it, please contact Kamaroh.)

MUIREGIONAL BOOSTER COMMITTEE

THE CONTRA COSTA REPUBLICAN PARTY

In our offices perched precariously due to faulty sheer walling high on the side of Hero Hill, recently we received an email informing us that the Contra Costa County, California, Repulican Campaign Headquarters is located at 1320 El Capitan Drive, in Danville. Full time Staff member is Thomas Midanek. The telephone number is 925-930-9551. The Contra Costa Republican Party is chaired by Betty Kolberg. She & I do not go way back but she sounds like she would the right choice also to bring order to an unruly sock drawer. Tell Betty Kamaroh sent you.,

HAPPY BIRTHDAY! #88

My text message from my son buzzed twice before I woke up this morning. I like it a lot when he texts me on Sundays. He goes to the office for a few hours and gets organized for Monday--which I totally agree is a good idea: that's my boy! He included in his message that today is his brother's 40th birthday. He said that #88 is his brother's favorite number for Dale Earnhardt. I am not interested in NASCAR; more I like muscle and funny cars but they seem to get into NASCAR in his Las Vegas encircle and so be it.
...Anyhow this entry is a birthday tribute to my son's brother. He was born in 1970 and that makes him a dog in the Eastern Zodiac which is a cool sign.

Dogs are:

responsible

reliable

honest

compassionate

and nosy-

...When I went to Las Vegas for Stone's graduation from University of Nevada, I saw this lad, D., for the first time in six years on the patio of Stone's house at the party that night. What no one observed, not my son nor my former wife, is that when D. saw me he came over and gave me a big hug. We have always been fond of each other; and, it started when I used to pickup Stone and take him to Children's Fairyland in Oakland, and frequently I would offer to take D. with us and I would treat him just as well as would my own son. He has never forgot our excursions but other relatives have forgotten about my investment in that boy, so when I asked for D's phone number in order to text him happy birthday, my request was deflected. The sore point I see here is that no matter how pure intentions, it is a tough task to jump the fence of righteousness.

...Anyhow, I have been thinking about this little epigram--that was published somewhere, that I wrote many many years ago--and debating about publishing it here in my blog ever since I met up again with that amicable young man once again on Indie-Stone G. Jone's patio,

somewhere, somewhere in Las Vegas:
I love my son

I love his brother

Tell me God,

Why can't I love

Their mother?

Happy birthday D.,

Kamaroh

RETRO DODGE PICKUP DAYS

There was a day some years ago when I had the notion to buy a new Dodge pickup with a Cumming's diesel motor but then life and female relatives got in Kamaroh's way and it didn't happen. Then, what happened is that Dodge came out with a Hemi motor in their pickups; and, one day, I saw a high school councilor I knew scoot across a busy street into fast traffic with a big Dodge pickup with a Hemi motor and because of that--and because one of my clients gave me a cool old mint GMC pickup--I completely forgot my idea of owning a big Dodge pickup with a diesel motor. That is I forgot until recently--see my following description of John Princess's truck--and I got the notion that I wanted to return to my original plan; and, since Kamaroh is a retro kind of guy that it would be cool to acquire a mint condition early model.

SLOW LEAD IN OUR PENCILS!

...with resolve: I was in the 'Lab' waiting room at Fort Miley and, looking around, I realized that the ten guys in the room, despite their age, were a pretty tough group. I remarked this to the fellow sitting next to me, and he said, "Yes, I had been thinking that same thing too-- Just we're slower." ...My mind drifted off into a senario whereas I was the one to select our mission leader from the group. I selected one sharp and trim gray guy who had a jaw like the prow of a ship as a likely prospect. ...The first question I was thinking that I would ask each member of the group in order to help make my decision was what their rank was upon discharge and job specification; and then hand the leadership to him! ...Why not have me, Kamaroh, in charge? Of course I am a hero but me only I mostly am the only person to know that: No, no chance; I am a writer, have been so with resolve ever since I got kicked out of Creative Writing in High School ... and since when did poges and politicos ever take charge of troops in the military!

JUST-A HORSE TRAILORING IT UP HERO HILL!

This is the John Prince truck and trailor. Hero Hill Road has a steep grades, snakey twists, and a slippery way to go in the decent. This efficient rig does it muy bien!

A JOURNEY INTO AN INDUSTRIAL AREA OF REMOTE SAN FRANCISCO!

What happened is that while Barney is here for awhile from his girlfriend and new house in Thailand (please see my entries regarding his construction project), he wanted me to take a look at art and antiques he has in his storage unit that he needs to dispose of. So, I got off the BART at Embarcadero Station where he met me, and because Barney is always in a rush, given he allowed me a bathroom break to start with, I had scant opportunity to photograph but only a few of the things I saw that appealed to my photographer's eye!

JOHN PRINCE OF HERO HILL!

This is John Prince with his brother-in-law's metal detector. He is my nearest neighbor on Hero Hill and he was here way before I moved up on Hero Hill--which I discovered while on a lost helicopter ride with an Asian female pilot who had the hiccups. Me and Johnny Flowers have a lot of respect for John, that's why we call him First Hero of Hero Hill. He is always running on the clock doing things centered around the Mormon Church, helping folks, wood working; and his wife's dogs and horses. A former Martial Arts teacher and fry cook, he is a hunter, a metal detector guy; a cabinet maker, outdoors man, and horseman; and has a huge silver Dodge 4wheel Cummings diesel pickup. He is a busy but quiet hero up here on this blessed hill.

MANLY OUTINGS / WARM MOMENTS

This is a diary format entry: Early today, after my son Stone Jones returned my a.m. "Good morning!" text message, I was thinking that in my Aug 24, 2010, "Wilt" entry wherein I speak of Stone's enjoyment of male companionship (probably more than he does the sport of the activity as I don't recall him being interested in sports when he was in high school. He always had a job in a store somewhere after school)when he goes to the University of Nevada Basketball games, is that I should say that he takes his half-brother with him and I am sure they enjoy spending an evening out together (and even though I am separately fond of Stone's half-brother, that doesn't have anything to do with my opinion on how cool I feel it is that men can go out and comfortably socialize by themselves in a manly pro-forma , their blue collar shirts flapping in their own breeze and them dryin' on the line. I have gone to the ballet, the flea market, the movies or (real cool recently was) to Tommy's Joint on VanNess for buffalo stew with Barnie, with men friends and then Johny Flowers and I recently went to a Friday night car show at Sun Valley Shopping Center, and always had a great time. When I visited my son Stone in Las Vegas, he and I did several solo shopping excursions to WalMart, etc. in preparation for his graduation party; and of the rare hours that I have spent with Stone in his adult life, as I look at it now from this chilly table on the patio at a Muirsville Starbucks where I am sitting this late afternoon finishing writing for today, those brief errands ran with my lad were the warmest moments of my trip to Las Vegas.

NOW I HAVE TO READ SAN FRANCISCO CHRONICLE TWICE TO GET IT ONCE.

I don't buy the Chron- as frequently anymore since the price went up to a buck. It used to be, for small change, I could pick up a copy and skim through it on the BART ride to San Francisco and then toss it. Well, what happened Saturday is that on my way to The City to go with Barney (who is back from Thailand for a minute,) on an outing, I bought a copy at Safeway; and, started to slam through it on the train and what happened, wow!, is that I couldn't--there was too much substance to the articles and I will have to take it out of the rear pocket of my backpack next trip and work on the articles. Congratulations Chron-- good job!

CREATIVE HORSE VISUALIZATIONS BY SHAKTI GAWAIN

Kamaroh is not a new guy to creative visualizations. After all, it is purely positive thinking and doing that from center--heck yeah! I'm for that. I have another book somewhere on creative visualizations, I guess I must have left it in the studio I made for myself in the tackroom at the other house; that along with my Sean Connery tapes. Anyhow, I really got into it when I was experiencing the falling in love stuff that led me to write my book, The Unfinished Song, and the one strong visualization that I recorded at that time turned out to be the concluding segment of my book.

...Anyhow, when Barney moved to Thailand and left his possesions for me to store for him, I found this book in its contents(first published 1978 - ISBN#0931432-02-2) and started reading it again, seemingly profitably: please read the post that follows this one

HOW MANY HORSE POWER IS YOUR MAN POWER?

A horse is a horse is a horse; well, maybe not! If curious what's up with me and horses, please check my previous entry: Pondering Horses?. Pondering self-discovery, et al, my spiritual guide, who in my attempts at Creative Visualizations, seems to manifest himself as my beloved maternal grandfather, Fred, who always appears wearing a felt hat--which is odd as he was a farmer--and overalls: I see his arms reaching up and supporting me on the back of a horse chubby toddler with a knitted hat, have been pondering what the ongoing significance of horses in my thoughts; and, today, I had a heavy duty ureka moment, that maybe wasn't about actual alfalfa hay and oat eating animals, but just maybe! it was about reckoning with the horsepower under my own hat....

PONDERING HORSES?

Horses having occupied my creative visualizations, my writings, and my pensive thoughts more and more intensely lately than they ever have over the past fifteen years when abruptly one day at a Cinco De Mayo Parade in Oakland, CA, I was struck with their beauty and realized that even though I had been raised in cowboy country and really never had a direct physical relationship with them, they were a part of my history and like my Asian muse they had no inclination whatsoever to vacate the quick of my rustic soul, were also there for the duration, and that I had best deal with them seriously and try to figure out what my they were--symbolically and metaphorically at best--up to...

WILT

I finished this biography of Wilt Chamberlain a week or two ago and do recommend it--that is if you can locate a copy. Officially, it is WILT by Wilt Chamberlain and David Shaw; published by Macmillan 1973. I don't recall seeing an ISBN#. I found it at a Thrift Town Store that is en route to the Bay Area Rapid Transit Train that I take to San Francisco--as my fans know, I sometimes go to The City each day. Since I habitually read autobiographies and biographies of well-known men, I spontaneously bought this for a dollar.
...I am only superficially interested in basketball (my son, Stone Jones, seems really into the fraternization opportunities offered him by following the sport). And, so, the copious information Wilt recalls about his games passed me on by). However, it was surely worth my time reading as, of course, it is a narrative of ascendance by a male sports legend--and reading along I soon realized that Wilt was a man of depth, intelligence, and deeply independent of marriage. Of course, for me as a masculinist, a man who is willing to maintain a home without the dependence of a female assisting him to keep it together, is admirable to me. These,notations of mine of course, are small issues in the substance of his story but be that as it may, they are on top of the recall of my thoughts (In addition to writing this personal treatment of Wilt. I am currently reading the biographies of Bill Clinton and Ollie North simultaneously. I saw a man reading a thick biography of Ringo Star on the BART last night; I won't read that.).
...To close my review, in his book I read that Wilt Chamberlain, playing with a broken hand during a 1972 NBA championship game which the Lakers won, was supposed to receive a now very expensive Dodge Challenger (muscle car) as most the valuable player in the series and he declined it in favor of a Dodge Station wagon which he wanted to carry his dogs on excursions; and, by Kamaroh's standards, that's heroic in multiple ways!

SMELLIN' MORNIN' COFFFEE TO THE TUNE OF MOM'S PERCULATOR

I had been craving perked coffee prepared the classic way for many moons now. I made a contract with myself that I would search around for a used percolator and make myself some. Well, a few weeks ago, I located this one at a yard sale. It was covered with black from being used for camping but it cleaned up pretty well; and, my goodness does it produce a blistering hot (as I like it) cup of coffee, a calming rhythm, and an awesome aroma. Turned out to be two Kamaroh dollars well spent.