Writer • Musician
On west third street, a couple o' blocks from the shop is doughboys cafe and bakery and it feels very homey and Italian. The coffee is always warm and is served in mugs that look bigger than my head. A young couple and lone young fathers bring their babies and little children here for early …
After La Dolce Vita Marcello Mastroianni is a man's man and an actor of the truest form who roams the desert hills palms up and facing the Italian badlands, lamenting over the crying woman dressed in black, kneeling to the ground with her child like some old Sicilian tragedy. Marcello, brother of Brando. The other, …
From the wake of exhaustion I am invigorated somehow as I sit at a small cafe table, with my head leaning against the table and looking out at the sea of small tables before me. It has the feel of a quiet night though patrons are scattered about the cafe, some silent and alone and …
Continue reading "Christmas Eve on July 31. Saints, refrain"
I wanna put you in a dinner dress, get you looking like an Italian woman in the countryside. Living off the vine. The dress will fall to just below your knees And against the rural wall you'll lean, Passioned and endearing, smiling at me And you'll wear no shoes. The dress is delicate and thinly …
An unexpected message from an old acquaintance, a teacher from childhood, adolescence, telling me that he was getting burned too often to remain teaching. Think the sincerity, the candor, as he calls it, of my last letter to him might've been too much to allow for any prompt reply on his part. As I look …
This Girl. This girl. Who I crave and want to know more about. Share in that laughter. That laugh of hers riveting, youthful. Joyous. She is the desert highway child, Young and reckless, drives me wild. I came in on chariots of thunder when she came right out, snuck in from under, Desert nymph. Oh, …
Thoughts, feelings return in the chatter and laughter the sacred warmth of the night hereafter Living in a drought, staring at the reservoir holding back pain A circling force the invisible rain Still beneath the toasty smoke she skips, The oblivious child watched by her elder brother so loving as coffee's roasting and the patrons …
There is a girl who walks in and she owns the night. Dressed in black. Her skin is fair and Latin, And her dress fits her tight. Her name is Maria. I see the fire flicker deep within the autumn of her eyes. Her lips are red and warm, Like a rose in dim lamplight, …
Los Angeles, CA When the shooting happened I wanted to ask all to say a prayer for our fellow man, but instead I kept quiet and said the prayer myself. The incident speaks for itself. Been wanting to write a lot lately and this morning I cannot remember my dream. They fade away so fast …
It's not for me to say whether sports have become better or worse these past few years. I have no way of knowing that. But as the NBA playoffs wind down and old tales of the Dream Team resurface, I am reminded of how much it has all changed in such a short amount of …
But enough about that. Man, I am already feeling a new rush coming on. It's late in the morning and late in May. For the past two months things have been a little in the dark, but we'll see how things go from here. The greatest peak in this period of time, the moment in …
There is a feeling that I may be really in for it, if I don't stay true. And for a young artist, this is the great recurring dilemma. But first I would have to decide if I am indeed an artist; and I most certainly am not. No, I am just some young pilgrim looking …
What is there to write? I haven’t written in a long while, that is true. But I can promise that it has nothing to do with any personal decline. I have learned that it can only be what you make it, this journey that is life. I don’t doubt life is certainly just …
Richard Nixon was not a bad man. He was a man. He wanted to be loved, and they all want to be loved. He just got caught, and so he payed for it. There's a thread of the main intrigue for me. They all go into it with such optimism only to come out beaten …
Continue reading "Leaders and Lions in the Arena of Love and Fear"
Coachella at first glance seems to be merely a taste of the desert. It is an atmospere that allows one to declare 'yes' they live out in the desert, while impressing any listener into thinking they are brave and adventurous for living out on these outskirts. The word 'desert' after all does have a sense …
And so it was inevitable that I begin this new little trick with videos and documenting the moving images I see through the looking glass. I think it best then to begin with a little stroll I took up on the desert a few days back. In honor of the many beauties of the southwestern …
To the Pacific Coast, the Highway on the central coast of California. Valentine's Day It feels more organic now on dualcore, which is the name I will designate to my Apple laptop. It feels more natural now to be typing on it since I have been writing in my journal the past few days, in …
Last night after acting class I came home and began watching 'Me and Orson Welles', which reminded me further of the potential sense of fulfillment that comes from performing, whether that be on the stage, before a camera or on the radio. Orson Welles was a man who must have harbored a profound degree of …
Continue reading "Morning thoughts in middle to late January"
Ren Michael 