redefining beauty

It's really interesting with how we redefine beauty as we get older. If I could compare notes with me at 25 right now, I think we'd have very different ideas. I'm talking about all of it, physical beauty, natural beauty, artistic beauty, etc. Nowadays, I find things absolutely beautiful that I would never give the time to back then, sometimes even things you cannot see. They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder and to an extent this is true, but eventually we learn that beauty extends far beyond our eyes. I've smelled beauty. I felt beauty. I've heard beauty. I used to place the highest of value on physical beauty or looks but boy that has changed. For one, I met more than enough ugly people who look amazing and even more so, I've seen how physical beauty is fleeting because of age. As part of my continued life education and evolution, I have had to redefine what beauty is to me. In our society, we're led to believe beauty is youth. Magazines are adorned with 20-something year old supermodels and celebrities. We’re constantly told how to “hide” lines, wrinkles, spots and grays. We’re given anti-aging tips and offered products that can help in this endeavor, and they sell like hotcakes. As humans we fear getting old, probably because of our even bigger fear of dying. Getting old means getting closer to that sweet by and by. So we are sold this superficial bill of goods but as we know, time is undefeated. We are gonna get older. 

They also used to say beauty is only skin deep. But what happens when the skin gets weathered, or lines and wrinkles appear? Where does the beauty go? I could argue that it never went anywhere, but we did.

the power of words

8 years ago tonight. It was the last poetry slam I would win. The Toronto Poetry Slam August installment at the Drake Underground. I went to Toronto alone that weekend and got a fairly cheap little hotel room for 2 nights. It was an old building that used to be a college dorm that was converted into hotel rooms. It served its' purpose as a place to crash at the end of eventful days.

That night I wandered into the Drake, quiet, observant and a little early as usual at the time. I signed up for the slam. Signed up for the mailing list. Made some brief introductions to the organizers and asked about the rules. I didn't tell them I was from out of town. I think I was insecure that if I had, maybe they'd be less welcoming. Like, oh this out of town hotshot wants to come in and compete with poets of the GTA. I know that's silly but so am I. I played it cool. I was incognito.

I don't even remember what poem I did in round 1 but I qualified for the next round and that was all that was important. Then I did my sex poem; "Craving". I did it a little rushed because I knew the time of it was up against the limit. Thankfully I got in under time. The place went nuts. There was a lot of who is this guy looks on people's faces. I was trying to figure out which poem to do as my encore after I found out I won, because in Buffalo, at Pure Ink, you would do an encore piece if you did. The host gave me the $90 Canadian prize and told me I had the mic. Thankfully I asked; "Can I do another poem?". No, she said. Just say a few words. I'm sure a blank look came over my face. I was ready to deliver another poem, not impromptu remarks. I looked out into a packed house with people standing around the edges because they ran out of seats. I saw all these strange faces. I thanked the crowd for the love. I gave love to the other poets. I mentioned how I was terrified to be up there on stage in front of everyone but sometimes life begins outside your comfort zone. Although I have built a permanent residence inside my comfort zone, I still believe that.

I got outside and so many folks came over to say nice things. My head was spinning. I asked people their names and then thanked them by name. Asked them if they write poetry. My head kept spinning. It felt surreal. Finally the crowd dispersed. I had about a 20 block walk back to the hotel so I started walking up Queen West with this cheese grin on my face. I found myself walking so fast. The adrenaline was still pumping. By the time I got to Trinity Bellwoods park, I was straight up marching. I told myself to stop. Take in the moment. So I sat on a bench and just reflected on it all for almost a half hour. Dare I say, savored it. The goal wasn't to come to Toronto to win a poetry slam, it was just to challenge myself, by myself, in a new place with a crowd that didn't know me at all. My goal was to make it past the first round and the rest would be gravy.

After that moment of reflection and appreciation, I realized I still had almost 10 blocks to go to get back to the hotel. I saw the streetcar coming. I thought, what the hell. I got on and it was pretty much empty. I sat down and no one was within 15 feet of me. At the next stop, a young couple came on board and sat across from me. They immediately recognized me as that poet guy. Some very kind things were said. They asked me if I had a book for sale. I didn't. I thanked them for their kindness and wished them a good rest of their night and before I knew it, my stop had come. I got off and stopped at the bodega near the hotel and got a snack and brought it back to my room.

That night I went to bed as an International poetry slam winner. Little did I know at the time, I would never win another poetry slam but even more surprising to me, was that I would hardly compete in many more after this. It was like this was the peak on a journey that took me so much further than I thought it would. I was more than satisfied. I also began to slow down a little. How many 42-year-olds were even in these poetry slams? The hunger and limited ambition I had were fading. Fast forward to now and I don't write as much as I used to. I don't share as much as I used to... and you never see me performing anymore let alone competing. There are so many young folks with so much to say and they should say it. It's their turn. Maybe one day a quiet, grey haired poet will join them on stage. But even if I don't, I'll always have nights like this one, 8 years ago, to remind me how much I once loved it. There's nothing like the power of words.

Death of a disco dancer

 

When I was a kid I hated disco. I had no reason to hate it but everybody else seemed to so why rock the boat? People would talk about disco like it committed an unforgivable crime. My first memories of getting into music was the early 80s; MTV, arena rock, new wave, hair metal, pop and rap. Most of those things looked down on disco. I didn’t know it at the time but this was the first instance where I ever experienced what we now call cancel culture. Disco got too big, too cheesy, too commercial and it was everywhere. The record companies and money people ruined it. Radio was flooded with it. Rock bands as varied as the Rolling Stones, Kiss, Blondie, Rod Stewart, Queen, the Clash, Zeppelin and many others dipped their toes into the disco pool and had success. I guess it was too much of a good thing. Yes, it was a good thing. I say that because even though I was taught to dislike disco having grown up in the post disco era, I have really come to enjoy it over time, especially as I learned more about where it came from and what it truly was meant to be. Sure there’s some forgettable disco music out there but there was a lot of excellent stuff too. Since I wasn’t really a part of it but its’ demise happened during my lifetime, I think a lot about how it went from being the biggest thing sweeping the world to becoming the antichrist so quickly.

 

Today people get “cancelled” by doing and saying awful, hateful things. In the beginning, all disco wanted to do was have a good time. It’s not lost on me that the death of disco coincided with the dawn of Reagan and trickle down economics, and all that vile stuff we haven’t been able to get rid of. It was like when the 70s ended, the party was over and a cultural backlash was underway. Of course, systemic change usually happens slowly so while the dawn of the 80s and Reaganism took hold it took many years before we really started to feel the long term effects of the damage they did by giving the rich lower taxes, all the deregulation, the increased privatization and all the havoc the new conservative “leadership” would wreak upon us. While the foundation was silently cracking we still had fun in the 80s supersizing our hair, our music, wearing the bright colors and doing many other totally awesome things so it’s easy to dismiss what happened at the turn of the decade as not a big deal but I don’t accept that.

 

While the decline took time, when disco got cancelled, it seemed like the spirit of the 60s and 70s went with it. I remember a bit where George Carlin talked about the baby boomers and how in the 60s and 70s they took all the sex, drugs and rock n roll and had a free ride. This was true. It might have been the most progressive time in American history. I realize that isn’t saying much. But eventually the free ride did have a cost. The sex party wasn’t the same after AIDS hit the scene in the early 80s. The drugs went from less harmful things like grass, poppers and ludes to increasingly addictive and lethal things like coke and crack. The amount of drug deaths climbed in the 80s as did the number of gun deaths. The music underwent changes, evolved and disco died and gave way to punk rock, new wave, rap and the dawn of MTV. Disco artists were basically shunned and many careers were ended with just a few exceptions. The Bee Gees became public enemy number #1 and a group that had six #1 singles in a row during the last few years of the 70s would never have another. In fact, they only had 1 more top 20 song and that took until 1989 to get there. At the beginning of 1979 disco was still raking in huge money but by the end of that year, the end was near. I find it amazing how quickly this massive bubble burst.

 

Disco started in the early 70s and like most good cultural movements, it began underground with people of color and other marginalized communities. Glorious dance parties happened in warehouses and lofts. The majority of the early attendees were black. They were gay. They weren’t trying to make a buck, they just wanted to dance and let loose. They were people who created fun safespaces that existed on the dance floor. Over time it grew beyond the black, Puerto Rican and gay communities and more clubs and discotechques began popping up around New York City because more and more people wanted to get in on the party. Dancing brought people together... people of different backgrounds, interests, classes. This is because a good time doesn’t know color, sexuality or gender. Fun is fun and dancing to the best music you couldn’t hear on the radio was the coolest. The party kept growing. The movement grew so much that the songs the DJs played in the clubs started to become hits on the charts by 73 and 74. That’s when the money people took notice. What was underground was then becoming increasingly commercial and marketed and sold to larger audiences. Corporate America got ahold of the new fad, watered it down and mass produced it. Many believed they whitewashed it so it would be more palatable for middle America and the like. Then they got greedier. If 1 disco hit is good, 10 is better, no 100 is better. In 1977, 5000 discos opened across America. The oversaturation of the movement was starting. Saturday Night Fever came out and became massive and now common America had a straight white face to place on the craze.

 

Disco was everywhere, in commercials, movies and there were disco novelty songs and albums coming out all the time. It was dominating the charts, the Grammys and selling like hotcakes. It was all over the radio and in these times, unless you had records of your own to listen to, the radio was all you had. Some stations changed to all disco formats. You couldn’t skip songs, stream or play DJ so easily like we do today. Because of where disco had its’ roots I believe there was a racial element to the backlash that finally came. Yes, people were tired of it but who led the charge? If you look at video or pictures of the infamous Disco Demolition night in the southside of Chicago at a baseball game in the summer of 79 who are the angry ones? Young white men. It’s convenient to say these were just rock fans who were tired of disco overshadowing their music and tired of men singing falsetto over dance beats but knowing America like we do, it was be incredibly naïve to say that was the only reason. When people brought their records for the big explosion there were many soul records tossed in the bonfire too. When these angry young white men screamed “Disco sucks” and “F- disco” you couldn’t help but wonder what else some of them were really saying. Do I think the end of disco was brought on primarily by racism? No I do not, but I also think you cannot deny it was a factor for some of the angry men who latched on to the disco fatigue America was already feeling and turned it up to 11. Who were most of the biggest disco artists? Take away the Bee Gees and most of the top disco artists were black women, gay men or multicultural groups like KC and the Sunshine Band, Village People and more. Much like corporate America appropriated disco and softened and packaged it for the masses, I think these angry folks saw an opportunity and were more than happy to help cancel disco and end the party. In this way it was a cultural backlash.

 

At the beginning of the 70s, disco was people just getting together to dance and have a great time. By the end of the decade, disco was massive business and everyone was trying to exploit it and make more money before the train inevitably crashed. Disco was the poster child for excess, decadence, everything the conservative 80s aspired to leave behind during this new morning in America. Did corporate America go overboard on disco? Absolutely… but almost never has a cultural fad been met with such a bitter end. Fads and styles just change and the old ones fade away while the kids tell us what the new thing will be. The old fad doesn’t go through a brutal breakup, it just gets ghosted while people move to the next thing. But not disco. It still blows my mind how we cancelled disco decades before canceling things became a fad of its own. I was too young to understand it and that’s part of the reason why I’m here now, still thinking about it. Why did we end up hating it that much? Was it really that bad? The only thing I can compare it to from the rest of my lifetime was the early 90s when grunge came and hair metal got shown the door, but it wasn’t the same. Kids basically just moved on to the next thing and hair metal got left behind. Winger and Poison weren’t hated, they were just forgotten and not cool anymore. There wasn’t the same vitriol to kill it with extreme prejudice like the way disco died. To those of you who lived it or those of you who care, do you feel like disco deserved such a harsh end? Did you have a problem with disco? Can you think of another fad that got cancelled so severely?

There it is

I'm takin' it back to the old school

'Cause I'm an old fool who's so cool

If you wanna get down, I'mma show you the way

Whoomp, there it is! 

In 1993 there was this rap controversy. 95 South released their Miami bass styled Whoot there it is and then a few weeks later Tag Team released Whoomp there it is. Both songs were hits, although Tag Team went to #1 while 95 South stalled just outside the top 10 on the Hot 100. Most people I knew liked both songs but you had to have an opinion, which one did you like more. It was cooler to like 95 South's but I always enjoyed Tag Team's more. That early to mid 90s period was the best of times and the worst of times with hip hop, at least for me. Many of my favorite hip hop records ever came out during that time but this was also when hip hop turned me off. By 96/97 I wasn't listening to hip hop that much as that bitches and money era just didn't do it for me. I hated Diddy and most everything associated with him, save for Biggie but he was gone so fast. I was never really into Jay Z. The No Limit stuff and most southern rap didn't interest me and I had always had a love/hate relationship with west coast hip hop. For 15 years I loved hip hop but I wasn't thrilled with the direction it was going in. 

In hindsight I should have seen it coming with the Tag Team/95 South deal. Tag Team's song was more polished and reminiscent of the party hip hop that came before it. It was fun and while there was some talk of the booty, it wasn't too sexual or explicit. The 95 South track had that Miami bass sound so it immediately conjured images of Luke and 2 Live Crew. Their video was just asses popping for 4 minutes. It wasn't as well produced or clean as Tag Team's song. Even though I was a teenage boy, there could be too much sexuality in music for me back then, even moreso now. Usually I go for the raw, less produced sound but not in this case. While Tag Team reminded me about the fun times we had in hip hop, 95 South gave me a look at what was to come and I don't think I cared for it despite the solid samples and beats. 

So now 30 years later I am proud to declare my old ass as pro-Tag Team even more now than I was then. Which song did you like better? Were you Team Whoot or Team Whoomp?

normal

A word I have struggled with most of my life is the word “normal”. Simple enough word I know, but so hard to define in the context of a life. What’s normal to you? Many times I felt like I was chasing normal. Other times I ran from it. Occasionally I aspired to be normal only for the simple reason of wanting to be left alone. Even if you keep to yourself and don’t bother anyone not being normal leads to recognition and this isn’t always good. People fear what they don’t understand, even if it’s something as insignificant in the grand scheme of things as a hair color, a t-shirt, or a desire to be quiet. Bullies love to target those who aren’t like everyone else, those who stand out in some way. In my life I’ve spent so much time just trying to be invisible or incognito but there is a delicate balance there. I want to be invisible but I still want to be me. Sometimes being me means being seen. Normal for me is a part time aspiration. Most of the time I don’t care about it but when I need it, it’s important. Because of this the word normal had always made me feel pressure that it shouldn’t.

 

In a better world, normal would be nothing to aspire to be. Everyone would be able to figure out who or what they want to be and then just do it. There would be no pressures to conform to and more importantly, no judgment if you don’t. In fact, in a better world there would be no normal, no arbitrary standards. I know that’s asking for a lot, to live together in a global community of individuals who had to the ability to accept and embrace differences. With good intentions, we’re taught to always find similarities and to build off of that. Think of all the ways we are the same. For the purposes of connecting or finding starting points to a connection, there’s great value in that but that doesn’t mean we have to be 100% the same. I always find individuals so much more interesting than the pack, always have. I’ve probably learned a lot more from them too. It’s a huge reason why I’ve always been so attracted to art. Art tends to attract people who don’t always follow the crowd.  

 

So should everyone be weird as possible? Well first off, everyone is weird to someone else, it’s subjective, but to answer the question, no I think people should be themselves… whatever that means to them. I know I’m an odd duck but compared to what? We’re all different in some way. Not everyone is 32 flavors, some are just one or two and that’s okay. Acceptance and respect for each other would really benefit us all. It’s a two way street. The person who is 32 flavors shouldn’t condescend at the person who is 2 and the person who is 2 shouldn’t treat the person who is 32 like they are a freak. Maybe washing our hands of normalcy is a way to get to respect and acceptance. I’m not normal… I’m Edwin.  

 

The covid years really brought the word back as we redefined normal, in some good ways, some bad ways I guess. I got so sick of the term “new normal”. The problem with all of it was that it wasn’t a choice, it was forced change and many people don’t respond well to those. Scared people forced into massive changes are going to cling extra hard to what they know. They’ll fight to protect the status quo and in a lot of circumstances, this happened with unfortunate results. It was all in a desperate attempt to return to normalcy. 

 

Being normal became just being able to leave the house again. It meant dining out again or going to a show. As an introverted homebody who has dealt with a lot of fears and health issues the past few years wanting to be normal is going to bed at night and hoping for no discomfort or pain. Wanting to be normal again is wishing I can walk like I could before all the spinal issues. For a long time trying to be normal was wanting to eat a reasonable portion of food and being satisfied with it. Sometimes things like those are what wanting to be normal is. I have days where I wish I could be more normal because it might make things easier. Then I have times where the thought of normal repulses me. It truly is a balancing act. Mental health can make that balance more dramatic as well. As I said at the beginning of this; sometimes I am chasing normal. Other times I am running away from it. I think of the words of Val Kilmer playing the role of Doc Holliday in the movie Tombstone. Kurt Russell played Wyatt Earp and he tells Doc that what he wants is to live “a normal life”. Doc quickly tells him; “There is no normal life, there’s just life. Now get on with it.” Doc may have been onto something there. Maybe we should leave normal behind, take all the beauty we can find, run and never look back. Why be normal when we can be magic?

about mental illness

 

I think about mental illness a lot. I'm sure this happens because of my own battles with anxiety and depression but I think about other people's battles often. I wish I could understand. I wish I could help. When I was younger, I used to feel profound sadness wanting to help so many but being unable to. It's part of the reason I began to perform poetry. I wrote poetry for myself but I performed it, yes to challenge myself and make me uncomfortable, but there was always this wish that something I wrote would connect with someone else... help them know they weren't alone. So I wrote for me but I performed for us… or at least I hoped to. As I've gotten older, I don't feel the profound sadness I used to feel about not being able to save or help everyone. I learned to accept that in most cases I am doing the best I can do and that is enough. I learned that I have to do better at taking care of myself. Do I have it all figured out? Of course not, but in some ways I get along a lot better than I used to.

 

But I do think about folks struggling out there, beyond my control, and wonder how their stories are similar or different. I’m quite curious at how the mind works or doesn’t work. It’s hard to have honest conversations, especially on social media these days because certain words are not allowed. I’ve always believed confrontation leads to understanding even though I can’t stand confrontations. I think it’s because these days the word confrontation can often conjure images of yelling, fighting or conflict as we are so testy nowadays but a confrontation doesn’t have to be aggressive or violent. To me, it just means being honest. But how can we be honest if we aren’t allowed to say certain things? I do not agree with censoring words related to mental illness. I feel like if we are not allowed to be honest, how can we reach understanding?

 

The other day I thought a bit about the guy who lit himself up outside the Trump trial. I wanted to learn a little about him. In his past he was a Bernie supporter, a democrat, worked on campaigns, did some organizing and seemed to me like someone who was trying to do good things and help. How did he end up how he did? I forget the site, but a newspaper local to where he lived did a piece on him and it turned out when his mother died a few years back he lost his way and there were several instances of mental health problems. You just wish someone like that could have gotten the help they needed.

 

It’s so tough though. A lot of times people with mental health issues keep things to themselves. Or they either don’t want help or to burden others. Or maybe they try to get help but lose motivation if they run into obstacles like insurance, or not being to find a provider, or having to wait 3 months to get in somewhere, etc. Health care in this country is so complicated and cruel and there’s no part moreso than mental health care. I can attest to this through my own experience and through the struggles I see people go through via work. Sometimes it’s so hard for the person to try to ask for help and then to get rebuffed so easily over something so stupid… sadly they might not ask again.

 

Tomorrow a book comes out written by former Miss USA Cheslie Kryst. It’s called; “By The Time You Read This”. She basically wrote the manuscript of her book and then ended things shortly after. Her last wish was for her mom to find a way to put out her book and she did both as a way to celebrate her daughter but also to help others. Ms. Kryst seemed to have it all on the surface. She was Miss USA, had a regular television gig, graduated college with honors, was a lawyer, activist, model and more. But behind all the successes was insecurity and a relentless high functioning depression that left her quietly suffering until the end. She had so many gifts but sadly, she was also saddled with mental illness. I wish she could have gotten the help she needed.

 

Are some people beyond help? I suppose so but I can’t say for sure however I’m tired of hearing of poor souls who had little to nothing done for them before they were lost. Nothing breaks my heart more than people who affect others in wonderful ways but are suffering inside. I feel like there’s more mental health issues out there than ever in so many shapes, sizes and colors. I wish we could try to get ahead of it instead of being so far behind it all. These are hard times. Please take care of yourselves and if possible, each other.       

The promise of the night

 

I’m a night person. I always have been. If I had my druthers I’d stay up til dawn pretty much every night. At night my mind seems to come most alive. I love the quiet. I love that the world around me slows down, shuts the fuck up and I can enjoy the silence. I used to go for walks late at night just to enjoy the ghost town feeling. Of course, those walks couldn’t drift towards any bars but I‘d walk all the way up or down side streets. Once upon a time I used to walk down Ashland. I used to walk up and down Chapin Parkway and Lincoln Parkway when I lived next to them. I could get lost in my mind, without distraction, without restriction. What I’d sacrifice in color and vision in the darkness, I’d substitute in peace and imagination and that could be quite enlightening. The night has its own dark beauty. Most times music sounds better at night. Movies are more fun at night. Books really come alive at night.

 

"What a nice night for an evening."  - Steven Wright

 

Did you ever notice night falls and the day rises? I fell for the night all right. From a young age I’ve embraced it and I admit I’ve had a chip on my shoulder my whole life because the night is a promise that we never got to keep. When I was a kid, I always had to go to sleep early because it was a “school night”. When I finally got through almost 20 years of school I took a few years and enjoyed the night thoroughly but before too long I had to grow up despite my stubbornness and then what used to be school nights became “work nights”… always an excuse to get to bed at a “reasonable hour”.

 

But you still get weekends, don’t cha? What happens if you stay up all night on the weekend and then you get to Sunday night? Your sleep schedule gets all messed up. Weekends are a lie in that way. A tease. We work our whole lives til we get old and used up. Then we can stay up as late as we want but you and I both know old people are not night owls. The pants get pulled up higher, it takes longer to get up them stairs and we are so tired. Naps are no longer negotiable.

 

"I often think that the night is more alive and more richly colored than the day."  - Vincent Van Gogh

 

These days I work a shift from 10am to 630pm Monday thru Friday. I wake up at 9:30 each morning since I work from home and even though all I have to do is get up, pee and then move into the other room and turn on all my work equipment and apps, I often barely make it on time. Many “work nights” I am up til 2 or 3am. I can’t help myself. My mind is going and I can’t possibly stop it so some days are a bit harder than others. All I want is to stay up all night and do whatever the muse tells me to do. And if the muse is off that night, then the angel and devil on my shoulder can chime in or my inner child can get me moving. Maybe the dreamer can dream and the curious cat can dig. I want to learn things, love things, create things and enjoy things… and I want to do it all night long. Is that too much to ask for in this life? Cheers to all you night people out there.

 

"Life begins at night."  - Charlaine Harris