Writer • Musician
I read your words late this morning to rock and roll in the living room booming, resounding as clouds roll, overcast in mysterious oncoming afternoon daze......... Are we here? Is everybody in? Is that working now. Is it just me? Do I type too fast? I am just? Trying to type my poem, for Kerouac …
It was early in the morning and I couldn’t see the peaks of the mountains. The mist in the air was cool and no cars drove on Highway 1, also known as the pacific coast highway, in central California. This was a place I’d only heard of but never seen. It lived in my mind …
What a crazy thing I think about, when its all about my career and acting classes, and the teachers who look at you with silent acknowledgement that you’re not at their level yet 'kid', but you show some promise at doing the thing in life that seems so important to everyone in the room, but …
There was a time that when I'd think of my mother and my father, I would see a great life divide that illustrated perfectly the divide within my own mind; and one afternoon it greeted me in raw earthly form across the expanse of West Texas, that region which begins for me just a few …
Continue reading "Oh Texas, oh great American lands. To the mothers and the moon."
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 …
I went to Frisco for the first time when I was a boy, with my mother when I was six years old. We stayed with her cousin back when she used to live in the city. Now she lived across the bay not far from Berkeley. We talked a little of that time but not …
Out again after the shootaround in west LA and Wilshire, with the king photographer. What I thought would be an epic duel with the sun turned out to speed right on through, for the heat of the past few days was nowhere to be seen. The photographer is a true professional, used to be an …
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 …
Dear Victoria, Tonight is one of those nights in which so many things seem to all come together from the far corners of the night sky. I fasted for a day and have deduced that it does indeed lead to an altered state of consciousness. And I think it may be needed in today’s world. …
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 …
--- When Ray called and told me that he was driving to Seattle once and for all and asked if I wanted to hitch along, I actually hesitated. I couldn't figure out what surprised me more: the idea of a cross-country road trip or the fact that I didn't jump up immediately and scream 'let's …
An excerpt from one of the main stories in the works about Rawling. Chapter 1 Jim Morrison died 40 years ago, and Jude Rawling wanted to write the next great American novel, the next ‘On the Road’ or ‘Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas’; and there was no denying that this trip was inspiring him …
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 …
Today brings in a new morning, or we’ll see anyway. We’ll see if I’ll be able to maintain a daily log on the computer. It’s a bit more difficult for reasons I cannot understand. If I end up losing steam perhaps I’ll just stick with the paper journal. I love that little brown journal though. …
Ren Michael 