March 29th, 2007
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Pinocchio Mug
In 1997 I went to Orlando with my wife on our honeymoon. We decided that since it was Christmas time that we would do some Christmas shopping at Disney World. Goofy hats, Mickey sweatshirts, the whole nine. But I remember especially something I bought for my Dad that year. We went to this Pinocchio village place and I decided that since it was an Italian themed kind of place that I would get my dad something there. I bought a coffee mug for him with a scene from Pinocchio on it. Pinocchio was always my favorite Disney movie and honestly at that time my dad was Seventy-something and we had stopped buying him big presents years ago. So just little things. He loved it.
In the years to come I spent more and more time with him and watched his health decline. Our Saturdays and Sundays consisted of watching golf on TV or just sitting quiet and bullshitting about everything. Usually he would cook a Lasagna or pot of spaghetti for the weekend and after eating we would defy his diabetes and eat something sweet and have some coffee. I was always a coffee snob and would usually have either Starbucks or at the very least Dunkin Donuts. I would make a run and come back with Styrofoam or paper cups. Dad was pretty simple though. He preferred instant coffee from water boiled on his little senior citizen apartment stove. So I would make his instant coffee and I would usually pour it into one of two mugs. One mug was given to him by my mom and said “World’s Greatest Lover.” The other was the Pinocchio mug. If it was just the two of us, I would use the mug that I gave him and then say something in Italian to him. It’s a great memory for me since dad passed away about a year and a half ago. When we were going through his things after the funeral one of the few things I really wanted was that mug.
This morning I woke up late with a lot on my mind. I got a baby on the way. I’m remodeling my cellar. I’m working on a new show. I’m thinking about the future a lot and not really looking back. In a rare rushed morning routine I decided to skip my French press or auto drip coffee maker and designer coffees. I wanted something fast so I reached for the instant coffee, which I have in the refrigerator and really never use. I don’t know why I even have the stuff. But for some reason I reached way back into the back of the cupboard. Behind the good dishes and cups that match. I reached way back and pulled out the Pinocchio mug and used that to make a cup of instant coffee. I was hardly sentimental as I did it nor was I thinking of how bad the coffee would be. I was on autopilot and just did what I did. I let the dogs out and pulled on my sweatshirt and pulled the hood over my head and walked out barefoot into the yard to feel the contrast of the cold pavement on my feet and the warm spring sun on my face. I watched the dogs run and then I looked down at the mug.
I saw a scene from Pinocchio. An old Geppetto stands at the door of his little house. His arm is raised waving goodbye to his boy. Running away from the house with his back turned is Pinocchio and his conscious Jiminy chasing after him. Pinocchio holds an apple in his hands and his eyes are fixed on it as he holds it in front of him. With his books in his hands he follows the path ahead. As you rotate the mug to the right you see the path ahead. It twists and winds and there are the usual suspects ahead. The wolves. Stromboli and his puppets. The whale. The ocean. The future. Rotate it back and see Geppetto waving goodbye and wishing him luck. Rotate it back and see the open mouth of the whale. But if you hold it dead center so you can drink from it. You see Pinocchio. A feather in his cap. Running. Skipping. Chasing. No strings. Straight ahead. I get lost in this scene and wander around the yard transfixed and lead by the mug in my hand. And I wake from this morning daydream and see where I am. I’m now standing in the garden of my backyard. I’m alone. The dogs have wandered off to the other side of the house. My wife is away at the doctor. I stand barefoot in my garden that is covered in crossed over broken tree limbs from the winter storms. I sit down on a tree stump. And I drink from my father’s cup.
Pinocchio Mug [5:29m]:
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March 27th, 2007
I was reading a eulogy I wrote for someone a few years back and I found a quote I liked. (pat pat on my back:-) Anyway…I speak this to me and all who may need it.
Its easy for us to look at the beauty of this world in a starry sky and say I believe in god. The hard thing to do is look in the mirror and say god believes in me.
March 26th, 2007
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When in Needles, California
When in Needles, California you might get lucky and have an almost perfect day. You might wake up at the crack of 4 PM on a Sunday afternoon. You’ll pull the comforter off of the window which you put up there in the morning so you could sleep through the sunlight. If you’re smart you will wander round town and end up at the Denny’s where all the locals look at you when you walk in. Don’t worry. Right after they look at you they will smile and when you’re seated the counting crows will sing “Round Here” as the waitress gets your coffee.
The thing about Needles is that it is buried in the middle of three of the most amazing landmarks of America. The Sierra Nevada Mountain Range, The Mojave Desert, and The Colorado River. I saw the mountains from Vegas and I drove through the desert to get here so I felt an urge to go down to the river and complete the trifecta. So I asked the waitress:
Me: Can I ask you something?
Waitress: Sure thing sweetie.
Me: (Blushing ‘cause she called me sweetie) Are you from around here?
Waitress: Mmm-hmm
Me: Well is it possible to see the Colorado River? Ya know its almost sunset and I was thinking it might be nice to watch the sunset over the river.
Waitress: What a great idea. You’re right it’s beautiful.
Me: Well, how do I get there?
Now this is where you have to follow closely
Waitress: You make a left out of the Denny’s. You get on the Highway and go back West one exit. Make a right off the exit its called River Rd. And then you…Well do you want a public area or somewhere secluded and quiet?
Me: Guess
Waitress: Secluded and quiet right? There’s a road called Washing Machine Road about 2 miles down on the right. Make a right and follow a dirt road down about a mile. It will say no cars but keep going. You’ll see some trenches from where the river flooded a few years back. Walk past that and there is a quiet little inlet you’ll have all to yourself. Its my private spot so don’t tell anyone.
Me: Really?
Waitress: Mmm hmm. You’ll love it. Its bitchin’
Now. If you’re lucky you’ll have your ipod and you’ll play some Merle Haggard and Willie Nelson for the drive. You’ll go past a street sign that will say Historic Route 66. And when you finally get to the place the waitress told you about you will thank god for her and her wisdom. Because…if you shut off your car and radio and step out you will see a beautiful deep clear river with the mountains in the background. The sun will begin to set and splash purple all over the sky with the abandon of a finger painting Kindergartner. The ducks will dive and surface. A lizard will crawl right up next to you on the rock where you are sitting. The coyotes will call in the distance. A jack rabbit will dart across the dirt path. And then if you close your eyes and listen you will here distant voices of kids in a pick up truck across the other side of the river. You will be reminded of the beauty and fleeting moments of youth as they push, wrestle, swear, kiss, and then skim stones. You will hear the bullfrogs and loons call and a tree of a million birds drown it all out. And a duck will dive down and will not surface for a while. You imagine him under the current of it all. And you might be tempted at this point to wish with all your heart that you were not alone. That someone was with you to share this. You might also be tempted at this point to pray in your mind to loved ones who have passed away who suddenly feel so close to you. And you might wish they were with you here and now. And then the duck surfaces across the other side. And the truth is that you would never have been here unless you were alone. And then silence as if the evening is beating and breathing. And if you sit quiet. You will realize that this goes on every night. This goes on every night! But this night was meant for you. This is a nightly miracle revealed to you by a waitress that called you sweetie. A waitress that was once one of the kids in a pick up truck across the way. In a town where this all goes on every night. As wars are fought. And people chase money and careers. And we entertain ourselves with new electronic devices daily. As we email and as the evening papers are rolling on the presses to tell us what’s news. In Needles California this miraculous show goes on every night. And you got lucky enough to notice.
Needles California [5:45m]:
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When In Needles California [5:45m]:
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March 25th, 2007
Today I drove from Las Vegas to Needles California through the Mojave desert. It was an intense view the whole way. Just amazing! Anyway I have a show in Needles tomorrow and I’m totally jet lagged but I did manage to take a few pics of my journey. Enjoy. Let me show you around Needles. Click on the picture below to go to my picture page.
March 23rd, 2007
Today I went to lunch with a business partner. I was his guest and accompanied him to a meeting with some other associates. Associates that deal with thousands and thousands of dollars for him and have been good partners with him for years. I didn’t say much and was actually a toned down observer but felt comfortable enough to interject here and there and make a few quips and BS with them. We went to lunch afterwards. Four white guys in Maine going to lunch at some fish place.
During the lunch one of them, out of nowhere, said “I could never vote for that Obama!” I said “Really why?” He replied “Well for the obvious reason.” I said “whats that?” My buddy leaned over without the other guy noticing and silently mouthed the words to me “He doesn’t like him because he’s black.” I was totally taken back and my instinct was to say “You wouldn’t vote for someone because of their skin color?” But I kept silent because my buddy gave me this look like “Don’t start anything. Please. Keep it cool. Let it slide.” Seeing that these were his partners and not associates of mine and I didnt want to hurt my buddies relationship with these guys…I shut up and just said “Hmph.” I felt as though someone had punched me in the stomach. I literally felt like how I did in fourth grade when this kid put me up against the fence and whaled on me and I couldn’t breathe. It got worse.
I changed the subject and mentioned something about having the chili dogs. My buddy said “You better have some rolaids.” To which one of the racist guys said…”Rolaids..Is that what you call a fag on rollerskates.” I literally almost did a movie spit take and said “What!?” Again I composed myself and bit my lip. I held it all inside. Finished lunch. When we went our separate ways and got back into our car and the doors were closed I screamed out “Dude, what the f*ck was that? What is wrong with them.” My buddy agreed and said I was better off not saying anything. We kind of agreed at the time that if someone is stupid enough to not like someone because of the color of their skin…Then they probably will not listen to logic…or my failed attempts at it. There was nothing I could’ve said that changed them. Thats what we said. That was then…This is now.
Its 11 pm and I can’t sleep. I can’t sleep because I am a hypocrite. Because I failed today. I let myself down. I let the world down. I let my friends down. I let my audience down. In my show I talk about having the guts to speak your mind. I talk about regretting missed opportunities to do something good for someone or something. Right now I feel low. I feel sick to my stomach. I wish I could go back in time. Not to tell anyone off but to just say…”You know what, You seem like a nice person but what you said offends me and seems mean.” Nothing preachy. But just something to let them know that their thinking and word choice is harmful and destructive. But I didn’t do that. I failed. Is this self deprecation to alleviate guilt…I don’t know. All I know is I want to go to sleep and this is eating away at me. I feel like a worthless piece of dirt. This is confession time. This is me. And its a look into that deep dark truthful mirror. Some look at me and see a friend. Some see an actor. Some see a son or brother. An uncle. A husband. I stare at this screen and these words and I see a coward. I’m a chicken and what good am I?
WHAT GOOD AM I
By Bob Dylan
What good am I if I’m like all the rest,
If I just turned away, when I see how you’re dressed,
If I shut myself off so I can’t hear you cry,
What good am I?
What good am I if I know and don’t do,
If I see and don’t say, if I look right through you,
If I turn a deaf ear to the thunderin’ sky,
What good am I?
What good am I while you softly weep
And I hear in my head what you say in your sleep,
And I freeze in the moment like the rest who don’t try,
What good am I?
What good am I then to others and me
If I’ve had every chance and yet still fail to see
If my hands tied must I not wonder within
Who tied them and why and where must I have been
What good am I if I say foolish things
And I laugh in the face of what sorrow brings
And I just turn my back while you silently die,
What good am I?
March 16th, 2007
At the end of the driveway and
The beginning of the road
A mother and her daughter
Wait for the bus
Its 8:05 and its due
The mother dips her head down to her coffee
And pecks away at her newspaper
Shrugging out the wintry march air
The daughter has her down coat flung open
Arms in wide wingspan collecting the spring breeze
Flopping the empty ends of her sleeves
Mother’s face tightly down into the news
Daughter’s smiling swallowing the breeze
The bus is due at 8:05
A daughter takes her mother’s hand
They wait
At the beginning of the road and
The end of the driveway
John Morello
3-16-07
