APRIL 2014

 

 

Thought for the Month

 

"Being a Parisian is not about being born in Paris, 

it is about being reborn there.” 

“Our wisdom comes from our experience, and 

our experience comes from our foolishness.”

“You can pretend to be serious; you can't pretend to be witty.” 

 

Sacha Guitry

(French actor/director/playwright)

 

1

[Day of the Jesters]

 

RealLife Satire

(When Life Becomes a Parody of Itself)

 

Sadly, this is not a crazy Fool's Day joke but a man in Maine gave a dead porcupine (roadkill) a c-section in order to save its baby porcupine. Read the absurdity for yourself.  https://www.independent.co.uk/news/weird-news/man-gives-roadkill-porcupine-a-csection-saves-its-baby-9226010.html

 

 

Again, not an April Fool's joke, but the Bob started running (jogging) today at 7:30 a.m. Due to current girth, thirty years of smoking and not having run since 1999, I was only able to clock in 4 minutes at a mild jog. Hopefully, I can add a minute every other day. I am going to lose 20 pounds this year even if I have to die on the streets of Paris! Tonight I venture out to a French/English language class - 45 minutes of each. I hope I don't lose my Boston accent! The following breaking news story.

 

 

The First Church of J. Christ, Banker

 

Lloyd Blankfein, the Chairman and CEO of Goldman Sachs, was once described by Rolling Stone magazine as a “vampire squid wrapped around the face of humanity.” (actual quote) He is the soul of Goldman Sachs, the most famous investment bank in the world.  GS had net earnings of more than 8 billion dollars in calendar year 2013. The only words to describe him are ‘capitalist extraordinaire!’  In an interview with the Times (London), this man, the essence of rags-to-riches humility, stated, “I could slit my wrists and people would cheer!” (actual quote)

 

But for Lloyd, being number one wasn’t enough. He wanted to make more money than any other investment bank would make in the next hundred years. It was then that he was struck with an angelic calling. It was the angel Gabriel who had moved up from birth announcements to financial revelations.  And Lloyd queried Gabriel, “Is it possible to make too much money… to have too much ambition… to be too successful?” (actual quote)  And Gabriel replied, “Of course not. You must take care of your disciples as you take care of yourself but without stock options. You are like a bishop watching over his flock.”  (angelic quote) Lloyd responded, “I don’t want to put a cap on their ambition. It’s hard for me to argue for a cap on their compensation. I am just a banker doing God’s work.” (actual quote)

 

And after a barrage of thunder, Gabriel declared, “The holy father in heaven wants you to found a new religion, far greater than all others, providing guidance for those who understand that money is the only eternal good and who seek recession-proof financial rewards. It is through this spiritual endeavor that you and Goldman Sachs will become more powerful than any other investment bank, now and forevermore. Amen. Do you accept this divine enterprise?” (angelic quote)

 

“But what about the biblical admonitions on making money:  casting out the moneychangers, the whole eye of the camel thing, love of money is evil root and so forth,” whimpered Lloyd. (semi-actual quote) Gabriel answered in a soothing voice, “Nothing but bad translations by the Catholics. They knew that money was the eternal good but they did not want to share any. So they lied and now I have to come to you, the Prophet of Prosperity, to save the world from spiritual and carnal bankruptcy.” (angelic quote) And Lloyd cried into the wilderness of Wall Street, "Although I should probably beg the holy father to let this cup pass before me, I am in this big time. Send me me the business plan." Then Gabriel disappeared as quickly as he had arrived.

 

Lloyd was so flabbergasted that he immediately made himself a gold medal winner Jim Beam Black Bourbon Whiskey over ice with Beluga caviar atop Perrier crackers. He was prepared to be the most successful investment banker ever. Goldman Sachs would now be known as the First Church of J. Christ, Banker, a 501(c)(3) tax-exempt charitable organization to be listed as CJCB on NYSE.  [When asked, “Aren’t you Jewish,” Lloyd replied, “Kinda, but I was looking for something more inclusive and more profitable and the Christians will love the J. Christ part.” (quasi-actual qote)] It was brilliant; Lloyd could barely believe that he did not think of this himself. He would become the first Metropolitan Supreme (not a dessert but defined as both head bishop and inhabitant of a major metropolis like New York City.) There would be no end to GS’ or rather, CJCB's profits.

 

The philosophy and rules will be simple. There are only two commandments:  1. Money is the eternal good. 2. The only goal is profit (33.33% of all profits from the congregation will go directly to CJCB) and dividends will be paid quarterly from former tax expenditures. Lloyd, as the Metropolitan Supreme, will handle all financial matters including bonuses, church charitable giving, and all donations from the congregation as well as from independent donors. There are no weekly services, no high or low holy days or any other stressful precepts and a complimentary subscription to the Wall Street Journal is included. Members of the congregation will include all companies listed on the NYSE and NASDAQ, all investment banks and their subsidiaries, all other bankers, and current MBA candidates.  Members of the general public will be invited as soon as the church holds an initial public offering (IPO). Any and all stocks acquired by church members will be tax-deductible. The Second Church of J. Christ, Banker is up for grabs pending the success of the CJCB IPO. Furthermore, the church will be designated as a person so that it may give unlimited funds to political candidates with the blessing of the Supreme Court.

 

This will be heralded as the most important milestone of rampant capitalism - the piece de resistance of any banker, investment or otherwise.  Thanks to the angel, Gabriel, no other investment bank will have the same opportunity. Morgan Stanley, JP Morgan Chase, Merrill Lynch, and Citigroup can all eat dirt and go to hell!  In a speech at LaGuardia Community College, Lloyd uttered the profound and inspiring statement:  “You just never know. Unpredictability is the great thing about life. The world changes. But the Church of J. Christ, Banker shall never fall far from heaven's gate.”  (demi-actual quote)

 

May JC, Banker, be with you all, now and forevermore. Amen.

 

4

 

It's 1:30 Friday morning and I just got back from the Thursday night open mic at the cafe/bar Culture Rapide.  It was great to reconnect with the people I met back in November.  It was like a homecoming where I felt that I had never left.  They are like a ready-made community of very nice and very talented people.  I read two recent poems, "Gertrude's Stepson" and "Death in February (Part 2)" which were both received quite well.  I also sang but it was a bust.  Just as I finally let go of taking the bar, I fear I must also let go of my musical theater career!  Fortunately, since I have had so many mortifying experiences during my life, it’s much easier to jump right back up on that proverbial horse.  Even better, I finally remembered that I used to do parodies of show tunes where I wrote my own lyrics.  So although I won’t be singing arias, I will be playing around with musical parodies — which is actually much more fun.  The energy at Culture Rapide is inspiring and I left there quite "jazzed” (if that term is still being used.)

 

On Tuesday night I went to a conversation class where there were eight people, four French speakers and four English speakers.  For the first 45 minutes we spoke French and for the second 45 minutes we spoke English.  It was a nice way to work on the language and to meet people but while this first class was free, additional classes are about $10 - $12 and I’m sure I can find a similar conversation class for free or less than $5 per class.  But I definitely need a French-speaking outlet as most of my performing friends speak mostly English and very little French.

 

I will be performing in a one-act play at the end of April for my friend Chris who wrote the one-act that we performed on a boat last November.  Now I just need to find some of that work stuff that pays money!  All in all, I am thrilled to be back in Paris with many new adventures to come.  So stay tuned.

 

[N.B.  Mozilla (Firefox) Chief Executive Brendan Eich was asked to step down after it was found that he made a donation to opponents of gay marriage in the California Prop 8 debacle.  It's so nice to see that gay people are getting more respect than bigots.]

 

 

 

Above is the side of Culture Rapide (entrance around the left) and my friend, Chris Newens.  On the blackboard it says, "You have to trust the words."

 

6

 

Sabbath Sermonette

 

8

 

Slamming Paris!

 

Well, it's 12:30 a.m. on Tuesday the 8th and the Bob just got back from slamming in French.  Translation:  the venues I refer to as open mics are actually entitled 'poetry slams' although anything goes - poetry, prose, skits, music, nudity, dancing, rapping, all languages, etc.  Monday night at the Downtown Cafe is pretty much all in French which is why I go.  If I can ever understand these performers, I will actually be French!  I must say that tonight I was able to understand 15% of what was said versus only the 10% I caught on my first visit!  I read a poem I wrote in French which seemed to go over well.  The audience here is very friendly, supportive, and quite boisterous.  These are not the aloof French people you hear tell about.  I was about to sneak out at the break when one of the hosts, named Sourio (some slang combination of smile and sun, I think his real name is Gerome), asked me to do something in English to mix things up a bit.  So I did my standard sing/speak song called "Love Don't Need a Reason."  And, of course, it was a hit.  Sadly, half the audience had left at that point.  Once I know what they're saying, I think I will mix well with the French!

 

Tomorrow, I start rehearsals for a nutty one-act farce I will be performing in at the end of April.  Oh, and I stopped jogging after reading an article about how jogging was worse for the knees than running sprints.  I guess I'll be off to yoga.  Au revoir!

 

 

11

 

Sabbath Sermonette

"Remember, my sentimental friend, a heart is not judged by how much you love but by how much you are loved by others."

The Wizard of Oz to the Tinman

 

 

 

It's 1:00 a.m. on Friday morning and the Bob has just returned from another Thursday night at Culture Rapide (CR).  I gotta say, there are a lot of talented people in Paris.  And some of them were at CR tonight.  This week it was hosted by Emily (pictured above) who is an extremely cute woman from the UK who is so sweet that she has an innocence about her even when she uses profanity.  There were many clever and/or touching poems tonight as well as original music compositions that are ready for the RIAA (Recording Industry Association of America).  The best thing about CR is the friendly, supportive crowd who thoroughly enjoy giving and receiving boisterous applause!  Tonight I read a new poem, posted below, as well as a satiric piece, The First Church of J. Christ, Banker, which is posted under April 1.

 

 

Fundamental Wails of a Vainglorious People (Part I)

 

 

Haldol was used in the sixties to 

Sedate angry black men 

Blurring vision, silencing a howling indignation

Branding delusional irrationality as motive

The brave men, the warriors, the heroes

Taking arms against an ocean of troubles

Jeopardizing only exploitation and despair

 

Has anyone howled since Ginsberg died

After giving the word ‘cock’ universal cachet

A shocking treatment 

First to espouse the joys of 

Fudge-packing, bone smuggling,

Driving the Hershey highway, entering the backdoor, 

Corn-holin’, hiding the salami, 

Fart knockers, butt-fucking sodomites

 

Institutionalized 

For a bad case of aberrant behavior 

Therapeutic measures failed

Lies and feigned normality freed him

Resulting in a more astute deviancy

 

We met at a book signing 

Though I didn’t buy the book

I thanked him for his iconoclasm

He rejected the accolade

Giving me a queer look

Even heroes can disappoint 

Oscillating under strains of heroism

 

Thorazine propels the manic into rapid detachment

Desecrating a few moments of happiness into

A collage of disconnected thoughts, movements

Chemically-induced immutability 

Denying personhood until acquiescence 

To their machinations

 

A slap on the exasperating girl 

In group therapy

Results in naked isolation 

In a six-foot square room

A six-inch square window of mockery in the door

Knives and forks are forbidden

No longer utensils but weapons

Inflicting bodily harm to a caged savage

 

Be wary not to trip and fall

Attempting escape through an opened door

Or be manacled to a twin bed

Phenobarbital injected into the buttock 

Until a white flag rises

Above barbaric contusions

 

Subservience is their goal

Your only feasible option

For freedom from curtailment

Sating an appetite for sadistic behavior

Lie and feign atonement

Lessons from Allen

Capitulation guarantees release 

 

Lithium stabilizes the disposition

When moods bounce amok

Immobilizing if too low

Captivating when too high

Until the demons pay a visit

And the tightrope of sanity snaps

 

Prozac is supposed to make one happy

If cognizant of happiness

Amid the obstruction of intrinsic nature

Bearing the whips and scorns of time

The requisite need to howl

Dissipates the vile stench of subjugation

The angry black men repudiated

Surrender to pharmaceuticals

 

12

 

Sui generis haikus

 

The structures of love

Degrade into particles

Random formations

 

pink and white Japan

ephemeral wonderment

taking wing on breath

 

eventide hails me

beckoning to its bosom

sheathing the glare

 

Sentimentally

Spouting hubris of the heart

Seldom ricochets

 

In magical worlds

a prestidigitator

would govern supreme

 

 

13

 

 

Pont des Arts with Padlocks

 

 

American Women — Bound for Success

 

There is a bridge in Paris called the Pont des Arts, also known as Lovelock Bridge because couples from around the world are attaching padlocks with their names or initials on them as a symbol of their love.  They then throw the keys into the Seine.  There are two American women who have lived in Paris for years — both named Lisa — who are trying to ban the practice to preserve the integrity of the bridge.  They have a petition on-line that they hope to present to the Mayor of Paris to enlist her participation in their mission.  For the moment, this has become their raison d’être.  At the same time there is a large group who favors the padlocks and views the bridge as an art installation in keeping with the centuries-old tradition of avant-garde art in the city as well as an opportunity for couples to uniquely manifest their love.  This fight is guaranteed to create bedlam and mayhem for some time.

 

HOWEVER, thanks to my various underground sources throughout Paris, I have found out the real reason for the Lisas’ patriotic charade.  It appears that they frequent a club called Pain and Pleasure (La douleur and le plaisir) or as we say in the USA, Bondage and Discipline (B and D).  Apparently, Lisa is the Master and Lisa is the slave.  They are renowned in the sub-culture for performing great feats with chains, ropes, gags and the occasional polyester swim suits.  Their stage names are, eponymously, Lord Lisa1 and Lord Lisa2.  Their act consists of everything from Houdini-esque bound and gagged escape extravaganzas to the more traditional forms of B and D such as whipping, body wraps, dripped candle wax, tit clamps, fisting, erotic asphyxiation and other everyday, playroom activities.  Their nicknames include the Gags r'us, Chains r'us, Boris and Natasha, Fred and Wilma, Thelma and Louise, and Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.

 

While rumors have been flying, no one has recently caught them in the act and no photos or videos have come to light.  It is assumed that they are only playing at home for the time being.  Their infamous YouTube video is suspiciously missing.  As to the padlocks, besides the usual bondage fantasies, Lisa and Lisa hope to use them to create abstract sculptures and jewelry — in both their present form and/or with the locks melted down to their base metals.  But the kicker is that, without the keys, the locks are pretty useless for playtime!  (My cynical sources tell me that Lisa and Lisa are up to something fishy, deceptive or even fraudulent in the city they purportedly love.)  It is unknown what will happen as rumors proliferate throughout Paris.  In their favor is the fact that the pro-art groups love fetishes as much as the two Lisas.  I hope and pray that a truce will develop from shared interests.  If God is in his heaven, the pro-art people will donate fabulous, ornate, extravagant, and impenetrable padlocks - with keys - for Lisa and Lisa to enjoy while still maintaining the artistic integrity of the bridge.  If nothing else, this is a unique opportunity for the Lisas to meet kindred spirits in a loving, supportive community.  I personally see this as a win/win situation.

 

So, girls, leave the padlocks alone and your compatriots will enrich you with far more beautiful ones (and possibly other accoutrements) to enjoy in your playroom for a long time.  Paris is a city of love — let’s not spoil that with petty misunderstandings.

 

Lisa and Lisa — this lock’s for you!

 

15

 

Moon over Paris - 4/14/14

 

It's 12:05 a.m on tax day and I've just returned from another poetry slam at the Downtown Cafe.  I read a newly written poem entitled "Ergo Sum" which is posted below.  (Some of the accents are missing. I need to start using a French keyboard.) I got a very good reception.  Two French people actually came up to me during the break and were very complimentary in both French and broken English.  Slowly but surely I am meeting the folks who attend this open mic.  No more translations.  I believe in sharing -- if I get to learn French, then everyone gets to learn French! There is an absolutely beautiful full moon tonight.  Since Parisians are already pretty nutty, there are no ramifications to the mystical full moon.  (On this day, remember, no blessings go to those who wait-ed!)

 

 

Ergo Sum

 

Sartre, Beckett, Camus

Pensaient de l’existence

L’essence, en soi, pour soi

Gogo et Didi et ce qu’ils attendent 

L’étranger, sans empathie

Qu’est que ca veut dire?

Ils ne nous donnent de réponses

Qu’est-ce qu’ils ont appris?

La vie n’a pas de raison

Ou, il faut qu’on crée sa raison d’être 

 

A la fois, très simple, très bizarre

Le petit prince,

Candide,

Asterix le gaulois 

Le magicien d’oz, 

Les sorciers, Merlin et Mickey la souris

Tous manifestent ce qui est essentiel

Ne sont-ils pas philosophes aussi?

 

Peut-être, on n’a pas besoin de philosophes

Tout le monde croit savoir les secrets:

Ma famille

Mes enfants

Mes amis

Dieu

Ma religion

Ma carriere

Mais c’est la folie

Dix personnes ont

Dix raisons pour expliquer la vie

 

Qui est correct?

Personne ne sait pas

Personne ne sait rien

La vrai vérité?

On peut créer sa vie

Comme le dieu de son monde

On peut se decider une raison ou 

Pas de raison

Et on peut changer d'idées 

Comme le vent

 

Ca c’est la joie de vivre

La responsabilité du dessinateur

Pas dieu

Pas les parents

Pas les religions

Pas les genies

Pas le gouvernement 

Et pas les philosophes

 

Sartre pourra être un éboueur 

Beckett, un camionneur

Et Camus, un criminel

Pas de difference

On pense ce qu’on pense

On apprend ce qu’on apprend

Et on fait ce qu’on fait

 

C’est nécessaire d’avoir les philosophes

Ou leur questions profondes

Je ne suis pas sur

Mais pour moi, c’est simple

J’aime la joie

 

 

16

 

 

Tonight I had drinks with an LGBT Meet-Up.com group called Chattery and Bavardery at a place called Cafe Cherie (red building above).  It was a lot of fun and I met some really nice people.  It's time to stop hanging with the straight people so much!

 

 

18

 

Sabbath Sermonette

 

"Concentrate on what you want to say to yourself and your friends. Follow your inner moonlight; don't hide the madness. You say what you want to say when you don't care who's listening.”

Allen Ginsberg

 

23

 

Well, it's been a few days since I've written.  The Bob has been very busy rehearsing for the shows next week which will be available on YouTube!  On Monday night I went to my usual French open mic at the Downtown Cafe.  There was only a small crowd due the fact that Easter Monday is a holiday in France.  Because of the light crowd, I was able to read in both rounds which they usually don't allow.  I read Part II of "Howl" by Allen Ginsberg, first in French and later in English.  I think it went over well.  Now, prior to the start, I had been speaking to a Frenchman name Loki (I believe that's the spelling).  Loki had his eight year-old daughter with him.  She actually got up and recited a piece by memory (although I could barely understand her either!)  She was great.  During the break, I was chatting with Loki, his daughter and his wife.  Well, during the second round, Loki and his daughter got up together and sang a song in English just for me!  It was very cute and very sweet of them.  Each week I meet one or two French people and, hence, the evening is becoming more and more pleasantly social.  I am actually comprehending about 25% of what these performers say -- up from the original 10%!!!  Last week at Culture Rapide, on Thursday, a Frenchman named Benoit came up to me and asked me if I read at the Monday night open mic.  I was flattered that he would remember me.  HOWEVER, the reason that he remembered me was that one night a woman came into the audience and asked a question to several individuals, one of whom was me.  Of course, I had no idea what she said so I could only answer that I didn't understand.  I guess that was mildly amusing to the crowd and that was why Benoit remembered me!   But -- there is no bad publicity!   Tomorrow night it's off to Culture Rapide.

 

25

 

Sabbath Sermonette

 

“If a little dreaming is dangerous, the cure for it is not to dream less, but to dream more, to dream all the time.”

Marcel Proust

 

27

 

FLYERS FOR THE MONTMARTRE DIONYSIA THEATER FESTIVAL

 

The Bob will be performing in the Dionysia's Mixed Theatrial Olympiad - written by Chris Newens - on Wednesday, April 30^th, and Friday, May 2^nd, in addition to presenting a one-minute "anti-commercial" on Saturday, May 3^rd!!!

(Soon to be available on YouTube!)

 

 

 

28

 

RealLife Satire

(When Life Becomes a Parody of Itself)

 

 

 

The Pope and the Ex-Pope make Saints of two Former Popes requiring only One Miracle instead of the usual Two Miracles.  I think that is all that needs to be said.

 

29

 

Last night, French open mic aka French poetry slam, was a packed house.  I did a little bit about light, la lumiere, and read a poem by Artur Rimbaud called "Eternity" which I have posted below followed by the English version.  Although I am slowly meeting people at this venue, I felt a little like an outsider last night as most people seemed to know each other already.  But, like moving to any new city, it takes a while to create a social network.  The Bob performs tomorrow night in the Montmartre Dionysia Theater Festival and I am very excited.  Unfortunately, the theatre, Petit Theatre du Bonheur, only holds about 25 people; we will literally be right on top of the audience!  And I have written my one-minute "anti-commercial" for Saturday nights boat extravaganza but I will not post it until Sunday -- no previews.  Back to rehearsing my lines.

 

L'Eternité

Elle est retrouvée.
Quoi ? - L'Eternité.
C'est la mer allée
Avec le soleil.

Ame sentinelle,
Murmurons l'aveu
De la nuit si nulle
Et du jour en feu.

Des humains suffrages,
Des communs élans
Là tu te dégages
Et voles selon.

Puisque de vous seules,
Braises de satin,
Le Devoir s'exhale
Sans qu'on dise : enfin.

Là pas d'espérance,
Nul orietur.
Science avec patience,
Le supplice est sûr.

Elle est retrouvée.
Quoi ? - L'Eternité.
C'est la mer allée
Avec le soleil.

Eternity

 

It’s found we see!

What? – Eternity.

It’s the sun, mingled

With the sea.

 

My immortal soul

Keep your vow

Despite empty night

And the day’s glow.

 

So you’ll diverge

From the mortal weal

From the common urge,

And fly as you feel.

 

No more tomorrow,

Embers of satin,

Your own ardour

The only duty.

 

No hope, never,

No entreaty here.

Science and patience,

Torture is real.

 

It’s found we see.

What? – Eternity.

It’s the sun, mingled

With the sea.