Writer • Musician
Yesterday I had me one hell of a good time playing some music for the people. I think I could get used to this. And so the morning has been splendid. MY girl’s telling me that even my skin’s looking good. It could be the sunlight. Could be the moon from last night. Bob Dylan …
I felt like a thief in the night. Maybe it was guilt, a sense that I was betraying someone, or something. I remember a sign, standing tall on the side of the highway while I was driving through the desert. “Blessed are they,” it said, “Who trust in Him.’ Four years ago, I moved to …
I woke up the next morning and Lucy was gone. The Spanish princess was gone too. Cal stood out of bed looking bewildered, asking me if I thought the girls were thieves in the night. We checked the room and nothing had been stolen. “Well," said Cal. "Was it all just some crazy dream then?” …
My foray into acting began after returning from Portland last year. It was around that time that I took a hiatus from writing. I won't know if the break was a good idea until later. For now, I'll begin to explain where I've been. Though it's always been in Los Angeles. My city. Listening to …
Before all this began, there was December of last year when I wanted to be Arthur Rimbaud and I stood in the corner of a bookshop, where I was becoming a ghostly regular reading a 'Season in Hell' and wondering what it would take as carols played soft on the radio. It was Christmastime. From …
Big Sur is freedom. It is eternal youth smiling to you and shining above you with God's great sun gleaming high as the waves crash in a morning tempest over the sharp rocks below. On this winding road you hang over the Pacific Ocean, and you hug tightly the green cliffs and the redwoods that …
The morning began to the sounds of 'Slow Train Coming' echoing from one the neighboring apartments though I didn't know which one exactly, and me deciding to read Huckleberry Finn for some reason. The rest is a blur and I think someone came in and knocked me upside the head as I ascended into the …
Continue reading "Lead up to ‘Cassandra’. The Hero Girl, Divine Child Part 1"
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 …
A new venture now. Marked primarily with the odd choice of fasting. I feel the body changing. Refraining from the lonesomely romantic nights of wine and the typewriter filled with the hope of what might turn out. Frustrations weren’t from the wine, however. I want to produce more and that can only come from, I …
Some kind of boom has taken hold and I fear that it will not stay. But I do not fear the fear. Fear makes me human and in touch with the waves that surround the young. It is all ok and it makes me alive. I don’t know what brought it out. This must be …
After searching endlessly for a spot in the ocean of a parking lot and joining the hundred or so other people who had parked illegally, I trekked over to the amphitheater. Carnival lights began to rise before the setting sun as the masses gathered before the entrance. I saw steam rising from inside, and only …
'Love Me Tender' is part of that rare breed of song that really cannot be sung by many others since it so greatly represents the man who did so first, and Elvis does sing it in a way that is indeed very tender, very vulnerable, almost as if the King was truly desperate for the …
Audition yesterday has me feeling a bit uneasy. I performed two songs for them, ‘Dresden’ and Dylan’s ‘Don’t Think Twice’, which may have been better than the two that the other guy performed before me. I go back and forth with that. They told me that I’d be getting $100 per gig. Yet consenting to …
Yesterday I realized that I’d missed Bob Dylan’s birthday. What do I mean by ‘missed’? Don’t know. I guess I didn’t get to stand back in reflection and think about him for a good five minutes or so. Play a song of his off my library or something. Just the idea of that strikes me …
I sit at the cafe with my legs crossed like a cool catI’m chasing something far and awayIt’s mystery, unattainableBut I must have itMy words are elementaryI’m like some infantHaven’t learned to walkEvery effort seeming futileI wish to break free from the confines of orthodoxyBreak free from concerns of passing time and trivial rhymeIf I …
Ren Michael 