Ghost Writers in the Sky

"Richard (RIP) and Shane at The Levee" by Raphie Frank

Creative output without real world translation from mind to paper, paper to people.... it's like heat lightning, baby. All lash, slash, flash, and rash-a-dash. No ground, no cash. No cash, no ground. Just another Ghost Writer in the sky. Deal with it, baby, 'cause you got just one hand to play and then you can't even self-gratify unless you stop feeding yourself. And then you're just any old Johnnny, Johnny. Cash will ALWAYS be King, but the Queen will always rule because she covers more ground and runs circles round us all...

I popped that off while hanging at Hank's in Brooklyn last night and I've got to give credit where credit due. Conceptual half-twist assist honors go to Michael Carter, East Village Poet (Read Interview) and a Man wearing Black with a Smith Corona 1929 typewriter I met earlier in the day at the Verb Cafe in Williamsburg. This man, a former student of David Mamet -- and dammit but I plain forgot his name -- had words that flowed like liquid gold from a silver stein and it kind of makes sense because just before I left he gave me an impromptu reading of Shel Silverstein's The Devil & Billy Markham which might just be the inspiration for the new Tenacious D movie, which was actually better in person seeing as their concert tour is basically an echo of the film, but in real, not movie time.

That reading the Man in Black gave me kind of put me in the right frame of mind for Hank's last night because Hank's, as it's described on BrooklynCountry.com is a rough-looking, rundown, flame-painted biker bar with a craggy cast of regulars that could scare Bukowski straight and I'd have to say I agree.

So, anyway, I'm there last night, listening to the hard country Hank Williams jam-about -- it's a regular thing put together by my downstairs neighbor, a real "Yes Virginia, There is A Santa Claus" kinda' guy, John Epperly, who is from well, uh... Virginia, actually, and appropriately enough for this post has a band called Haunted Horses -- and this guy comes up to me and we get to talking.

"Not to say nothin'" he says, "but I'm semi-famous, and all I can say is fu*k fame! What the hell did that ever get me? Nothing! I'm STILL broke."

"Well," I looked at him and said "Ever think about what your fame did for anybody else?" He didn't have an answer, and my good friend and honorary little brother, Tommy Poole, kinda looked at him and said "Yeah, buddy, maybe you're looking through those binoculars the wrong way." I thought those were some smart inklings, him being the dumb-a*s that he is half the time, so there may just be hope for him yet seeing as he's a not a half-bad and artistically inclined tilesetter following in his father's footsteps all the way from Oklahoma to Florida to NYC where he was supposed to start a job at the WTC on September 11, 2001.

Which kind of brings us back around to those 1000 Points of Light Through the Ariadne Maze I wrote about yesterday. When the towers fell, Tom got put out of work for about a year and was entitled to goverment assistance. He never took a dime. Why? He knew others needed it more.

With that in mind and for what it's worth, Tom is full on famous in my book and he ain't got much money, but he's anything but broke. The semi-famous could do worse than to learn a few lessons from him, just in case they ever take "semi" full circle.

And that's a fact, Jack. And Johnny too.

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Above picture used to illustrate the post...

The Levee That No Force of Man or Might Can Break

So bye bye Miss American Pie, drove my Chevy to the Levee, but the levee was dry...

Those were the good old days, eh? These days levees are just about the wettest thing around I hear. But that's not all bad I figure, especially because right around the corner, a half hop and a skip away from my front door is one of the wettest levees in America; and this levee, frequented byTexans and New Yorkers, and Floridians, and Ohio folk, is one where everyone somehow all seem to get along. Except when they don't, of course, and then it gets a little crazy...
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