INDIAN HILL

'Been a while', as the song lyric goes.  Writing sketches and capturing moments in time, a trip along a dusty trail, literary reportage, it's fun, yeah, but nothing like diving into deep water with a couple of characters and an idea. Started with an email to a friend who I scatter-shoot with ideas, stuff to get my fingers moving, and I started letting him know of the process, how I need to 'connect the dots' to hear stories brewing in the bottom of the barrel.   It worked. Scrolling through web bookmarks I landed on a site for a distributor of products that I like to survey, a distributor who sold me a hard duty bag I use to carry my essential stuff on the road, and there it was.   An idea.  This particular distributor is so close I could walk over there, and his product line so varied and his clients so world-wide, it hit me. Drive in to an opening scene and let it go. . .character development will come. . .scenes and plot and direction will unfold.   Come

2010 officially starts in mid January, for me, when Mom's birthday rolls along.  She turned 91.  Yeah.  Still drives, paints, talks about church friends and how life has been good, living alone now for ten years, Dad gone.  She's healthy and aware, softly touching life through her painting and reading, active in church and still talking about eating dinner and lunches out like she's a hungry little girl.   I'll fire my assistant this next week.  If I can wake her up.  She looked at me when I told her she was sleeping, twice in one day, after posting errant notes on the shared drive. "Look at me," she said.  "I'll never get another job."  I don't feel guilty.  At all.  I don't feel guilt when people can't see it coming, their own ineptness, sliding along, helpless, until someone takes charge and kicks them along their way.  She won't bring me down, won't keep me from reaching my goals, sleep won't be lost. Edited photos o

Saw a flag-draped coffin in a white hearse today     Oh Man     Oh Lord  Somebody's paid up Red White and Blue flag  Wrapped tight around the box Add the hearse Stopped still Against a pink sky     Oh Lord     Oh My Smoke Sage Dancers spinning I moved Two steps forward Two steps back Rocking like ocean waves     Oh Man     Oh Lord A hearse pulled up and I was right behind it Looking at the morning sky Flag draped coffin Getting ready to lie     Oh Lord     Oh My

When I feel a shiver down my back I know spirits are among us, with me.    Pay attention now, this is real .   Native dancers from the San Gabrielino Tongva Tribe had gathered to be with us for an open house ceremony.   I met them in the foyer earlier and the boys were joking about who was more 'cut'.  They wore native dress with no shirts, and the women were small and draped in animal fur and leather buckskin skirts.  Andrew Morales, the captain, wore a black straw hat and black leather vest.  They were friendly and ready to perform. They entered the big room and formed a circle, with a ceremonial artifact on the floor in the middle and when Andrew gave a brief introduction to the ceremony he let out a call to the spirit in the heavens and the room was quiet.  I thought I was going to start to cry when I felt my eyes get wet, always a moment of joy and inspiration, my call to quiet myself and listen.  Andrew introduced the dances and the songs, each one a signal to the tre