Interview with Mac Part 1

Recently Maugham Malraux sat down with Mac and interviewed him, a project he had been pestering him about for years. The following is a record of their candid conversation about spiritiuality, religion, the arts and relationships.
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MM: Well I often call you a "wuss" in popular discourse, so I must say I am surprised you agreed to this. It's hard enough to get you out for coffee, so O reclusive one, can you tell us why you agreed to do this?

MAC: I thought it about time to address some fairly controversial things and I knew you would be hard on me, yet fair and direct.

MM: Oh great...an agenda?

MAC: Yeah sure. You know damn well I am a subversive.

MM: How did that happen, where did that come from?

MAC: I think I have always had a heart for those oppressed or used by others. When I was younger there was nothing I could do. I was one of the powerless. Later, after my conversion, I suddenly became empowered. You can see the pattern woven throughout my life. I fought cults in the 80s, worked hard in the 90's on church renewal and now am a strong critic of Consumer Christianity.

MM: I have never got the "Christian" thing with you. You seem too smart and you rail against religion every bit as much as I do, though I think you wuss out.

MAC: Well first of all the label "Christian" should be understood as an irony.

MM: An irony? You are shitting me.

MAC: "I wouldn't shit you boy. Yer my favorite turd." Name that movie.

MM: Easy, Cool Hand Luke. Now answer the fookin question.

MAC: The only time the name "Christian" is used in the Bible is in Acts as a term of derision by those who felt threatened by this new faith. The irony is that it is now still a term of derision but for the opposite reasons.

In the early days of the young church they were an anomaly in the community because they had fresh faith and they were known for their love for people, both Jews and Gentiles. Their only power was in their serving others and in their love and faith. That was a threat in the face of the dominant political and religious power structures.

Now we have a situation where the word "Christian" has become synonymous with the dominant political and religious power structures in America. So when I meet someone and they find that I am a "Christian" they assume I am a Right-Wing, Pro-War, Capitalist, Judgmental A-Hole.

MM: And yet you are none of those things except being an A-Hole.

MAC: Right. So we need a new term...maybe "iChristians"

MM: Will that play on my iPod?

MAC: Well, it would raise the question, "what the hell is an iChristian?"

MM: What the hell is an iChristian?

MAC: An ironic one numbnuts. You need more coffee?

MM: No, I'm drinking wine.

MAC: At 10 a.m. in the morning, are you crazy?

MM: I thought it would be more fun because you are so damned serious all the time.

MAC: True. Sorry.

MM: Wuss.
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Next...

Interview with Mac Part 2

Maugham malraux on location.

Part Two.

MM: I want to pursue this thing about the church a little further. You know I am not a Christian or religious at all, so I am curious about it from the outside. What is up with the church in Amerca?

MAC: Well that is too big a question to get into any detail. Some people would look at it through the lens of a culture war. That'd be one way to look at it...but there are probably about 30 different ways to analyze the huge, almost tectonic shifts that are constantly occurring now.

MM: So of those 30 lenses, how do you see it?

MAC: Well you know I am a big Kierkegaard fan.

MM: You read that shit?

MAC: Yeah, because I can and you can't.

MM: Settle down...don't get testy or I'll have to smack you in the nose.

MAC: Kierkegaard lived in Denmark at a time when the Church was supported by the State. It was a situation very akin to where current Christian "Dominionists" would like to see America fall. The ministers of the official Church were actually paid by the State.

Now that is not what these folks want...they want even more. They want to dictate to the State. So it's potentially worse than Denmark in Kierkegaard's day.

Kierkegaard saw the inherent insanity of this and called them out. One guy...just one little guy with a brilliant mind and a small inheritance so he could publish at will.

Kierkegaard made the distinction, and we should to, between "Christendom" and "Christianity". The latter is a living faith deeply connected to God across all denominations, both inside and outside the established "Church".

"Christendom" is the hardened shell of organized religion which reflects the political and economic ambitions of those in power.

Kierkegaard saw the two as utter antithetical.

I do too.

MM: Thanks for the post-graduate lesson in Kierkegaard.

MAC: You asked. What do you want me to say...organized religion is doo-doo? Okay. There.

MM: But you were once an ordained minister.

MAC: Thanks for bringing that up. That's one reason why I do not do interviews.

MM: So weren't you a part of the establishment?

MAC: I was very lucky. I was in a sort of renegade church. Now a days they are very mainstream, which makes me sad, but back then it was very much about loving people, serving them and also loving God. In many ways they were anti-comsumer Christianity. Kids who couldn't afford to go to camp always went anyway, the senior pastor took no salary (a whole other story) and the rock concerts we did on Saturday nights were always free (and quite expensive to put on). No, people and God really came first.

So, no I can honestly say I have never been a part of the establishment. In fact, in any church I have ever been to I am usually met with some degree of suspicion.

MM: Why?

MAC: I imagine it is because I am both fully trained as a scholar/teacher and I am unrepressed and honest, come what may.

MM: Do you regret it..all those years of training?

MAC: No, not at all. In fact few people I have ever met have been exposed to all I have. Hermeneutics, exegesis, Greek and Hebrew studies and the writing of church history across all lines: the Desert Father, Athanasius, Ireneaus, The English Puritans, Pascal, Kierkegaard and then the moderns, etc... 2,000 years of great theological writings and thought.

MM: Are you bragging?

MAC: Er, maybe...I don't get out much.
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Part three on the way...

Interview with Mac Part 3

Part Three

MM: Do you go to a church now

MAC: No.

MM: Why not?

MAC: My girlfriend likes to watch Spongebob on Sunday mornings.

MM: And here I thought you had no sense of humor.

MAC: I'm serious.

MM: Did you do lots of hallucinogens in the 70s?

MAC: No.

MM: So whereas you use to go to church on Sunday mornings with your wife and kids, now you get up on Sundays with your girlfriend, who you live with, and watch Spongebob instead?

MAC: I find Patrick very inspiring.

MM: You're joking.

MAC: Yes, just reminding you that I still have some vestige of humor left even though I gave almost all of it to you.

MM: I think that was wise by the way, because you can be a real drag.

MAC: Thanks. Remember I could erase you at any moment.

MM: Ooooo, I'm scared. You can't fool me. You are a benevolent creator who is far too merciful, plus you love us rascals the best.

MAC: I'll cop to that. "Ask your question bridgekeeper I'm not afraid!" Name that movie.

MM: Oh do get off. Not worth my time. Er, and don't think I didn't notice you derailed us.

Sunday mornings?

MAC: Okay. You have three choices. You can go to a Baby Boomer church were you sit passively and watch the music, the little play, the announcements and the sermon. Then you have coffee (or lattes in the newer ones). Then you go home.

Or you can stay home and turn on one of the TV churches and do all the same things from your couch in utter passivity.

Or you can watch Spongebob.

MM: I see your point. Hmnnn...

MAC: I still do "Church".

MM: But you said...

MAC: I said I did not go to a church on Sunday mornings. I did not say I did not do Church.

I did Church last week meeting with Rick for coffee.

MM: You have been outside another time this week?

MAC: Yes. We meet often for a few hours. It's active, engaging and we both learn. I also email back and forth with people all over the world in an open and very spiritual way.

MM: Christians?

MAC: iChristians...just kidding. Actually they are of all persuasions, beliefs and political affiliations. I would say this, they are all spiritual in their own ways and also very honest. I see a deep connection between honesty, spirituality and even faith.

This is why I see the current juggernaut of political and religious power in America as opposing spirituality and faith. It certainly fails the "love test" that Jesus and the early writers of the New Testament preached.

America is the New Roman Empire and the only answer to the joining of political, economic, and militaristic power under the banner of religion is to be subversive.

The Gospel is inherently subversive while being trans-historical and trans-cultural.

MM: God I forget sometimes how much I hate talking with you. You are SOOOO boring! I'm having a third glass of wine because I can see you are winding up so I wanna get a little tight so I can kick your ass.

MAC: Again, you asked. I admit I am pretty humorless. It's why I became a writer, because I am so annoying in person. I admit that. I do not get how my girlfriend can stand me. Of course, my two ex-wives couldn't.

MM: Was that an attempt at humor?

MAC: Er, I suppose. Can we move on?
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Next...

Interview with Mac Part 4

Roy batty playing chess with his maker in Bladerunner.
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Part 4

MM: You used an old word "Gospel". When I think of that word I think of tent preachers threatening people with hellfire and damnation.

MAC: Well the word simply means "Good News", which is another irony because so many people make it utterly bad news.

Imagine two newspapers delivered to your door. One is pretty much like the one you get today filled with the bad news of murders, rape, incest, scancals and all manner of perversion.

MM: Wait. All manner, or just some?

MAC: Okay, some manner of perversion...the kinda that is bad news for somebody.

Then to that add threats of terrorism, both global and local. Then add to that the secret negative thoughts and judgments of all those around you...in daily print. Then a full page add on the final page, supposedly from God saying "I've been watching, you are in deep shit."

MM: I'd cancel my subscription..

MAC: Really? Do you?

That would be the Bad News newspaper and is representative of those who try and scare/terrorize people for religion's sake.

The Good News newspaper would also arrive. It would not gloss over the realities which had happened, but they would not be front page news by any means. Perhaps they would be in section H with opportunities to help and care for victims.

But the front page would be about how God loves the world and all the ways that had happened, through real people the last 24 hours. It would all be good news. But straight and sober, not saccharin.

It would also be about how people love people just as much. Maybe they do not believe in God, but they believe in love.

That is also Gospel. Good news is good news.

In the midst of hard realities it would also be a celebration of all that is good news.

The relief efforts in Africa, the success of some new medical procedure in France, growing political pressure to bring safety to those under siege in. All the births, and I mean all of them. The woman who beat breast cancer, the man who fixed his elderly neighbor's house. The cop who talked the man off the bridge, the young couple who took a homeless man out to dinner. Love letters, how many times that day people comforted each other in distress. How many times people forgave each other and made new starts.

It's hard for me to even describe Maug, because it is so contrary to what we know. But to answer your question "Gospel" just means "good news". Anything that emphasizes all that is bad is not "Gospel".

MM: Man, you can go on. So what's this trans-stuff. Is that like the margarine I'm supposed to buy at the store so I don't have a heart attack?

MAC: Yer a smart boy. I created you with enough stuff to translate that.

MM: "If only you could see what I see through your eyes..." Name that movie.

MAC: (sigh) Bladerunner...but that isn't the quote you are looking for.

MM: It isn't?

MAC: No, it's the words the replicant says to his creator just before he puts his thumbs through his eyes.

That what you got planned for me?

MM: Your optometrist did call the other day. I believe he said his name was Dr. Batty?

MAC: Very funny. Next question.
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Part 5...

Interview with Mac Part 5

We see through a mirror dimly...

Part 5

MM: Tell me about your art. Do you see that as some divine calling by God?

MAC: No, not at all.

Is it some special assigned calling to do my dishes? I think not. It's just a part of life. I happen to be artistic by nature. The best you can say is that all of our giftedness is somehow reflective of being created in the image of God.

MM: The image of God. You think I am created in the image of God?

MAC: No, you were created in the image of Mac, and I was created in the image of God.

MM: But I am better than you. I am certainly funnier.

MAC: I'll grant you that. You certainly have a freedom I do not enjoy, and if I was an envious being, I would envy you. But I don't. I rather enjoy you. I like that you are more successful than I am. I'm proud of you.

MM: But I just said I was better than you. You aren't even going to argue?

MAC: It's not an important category to me. You want to feel better than me. Good. Feel good Maugham.

MM: Okay, now you are just pissing me off. I think I have been too easy on you in this interview.

MAC: Why?

MM: Maybe it's because you look do sad. I dunno. Are you as sad as you look?

MAC: Perhaps. I certainly thought that things would go different than they have. I suppose that makes me sad. I've known a lot of loss. But that is the price of real human freedom, which is also a gift.

MM: How come you give me so much freedom?

MAC: I respect you and trust you more than you know. It's your life to do with as you please.

MM: How am I doing?

MAC: How do you think you are doing?

MM: I hate it when you do that.

MAC: That's for you to work out. I would suggest you stop drinking and pay attention to your notes.

MM: Is that an order.

MAC: Waiter!? Another Chablis for my friend.

Can we get back to image?

MM: Sure. I'm prettier than you.

MAC: Indeed. You are a sexy beast.

MM: Why did you make me so pretty?

MAC: It's a reflection of some aspect of myself.

MM: You narcissicist!!! How dare you?

MAC: No it's not for me, it's for you, and for others. I am quite content as I am. I only want you to thrive. However I do have a suggestion for you.

MM: Yeah, what is it.

MAC: Well when God created humanity in God's own image the reflected glory or image was "male and female". You need both.

MM: I've got plenty of women.

MAC: That's my point. "Getting women" and living in a relationship with a woman that is reflective is a big swing.

MM: Are you lecturing me?

MAC: No. Just something you might wanna look at. Your choice.

MM: Why do I suddenly feel like you have turned the tables on me?

MAC: Sorry. I may have done that subconsciously. I do care about you. But you are right. This is your interview and you should be harder on me.
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Part 6...

Interview with Mac Part 6

Paradise. Oil on Canvas. Mac

Part 6
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MM: I want to get back to your art.

MAC: So would I. What time is it?

MM: It's only 11:15. Don't wuss out on me. Oh and by the way, this is what sunlight looks like.

Why do you paint?

MAC: I like the mess and physicality of it. Plus it is very hard, whereas writing now comes very easy for me.

I guess I like the challenge of creating something beautiful from nothing.

MM: But not all your paintings are beautiful.

MAC: I disagree, except for the failed ones. Funny you should say that. My father was here recently and off all my painting he by-passed the one I thought the most beautiful and loved the one least likely. Art is that way. It's intuitive. I like that as well.

With writing there is also a lot of intuition. I especially see that in your writing, but not so much in my own. The Saint has some of both.

MM: Oh you had to bring him up. Do you know how many emails I get asking about our relationship to each other. I think sometimes we should just come out and rent a big house on Crete.

MAC: Very funny. No, I need my privacy. You of all people should know that. No I will leave it to you two.

MM: Why did you create him? Wasn't I enough?

MAC: I am not given to flattery, but I must say you have far exceeding anything I could have ever hoped for. I admire your fearlessness, your humor and unique view of the world. I sometimes wish I was you.

The Saint is his own man. While also a fiction, he is smarter than both of us. He does not possess your humor or ironic sense of life, nor is he as grounded in the real world as I have to be.

Frankly we needed a philosopher, and neither you or I was really up to the task. Sorry if that hurts your feelings.

MM: You bastard.

MAC: Hey, you get all the funny lines and the female attention. And you get to publish first. You'll always be my fav.

MM: (sniff)... Okay. But if he makes a philosophical mistake I'm gonna get out the rubber hoses and let the beatings begin.

MAC: Yes, well that is why I endowed you with a certain ruthlessness which I could never possess.

MM: Wuss.

MAC: Yes, you could look at it that way, or as compassion.

MM: Whatpassion?

MAC: "Compassion". It means to "come alongside".

MM: I like to look in their eyes...especially the haughty religious and then engage them until they run.

MAC: yes. When you look in my eyes what do you see?

MM: Sadness. I told you that before.

MAC: Well let's take those haughty Religionists for example, in particular those you took on a few months back at the White Chocolate Jesus site.

You seemed to find some glee in banging them like a gong, overturning their tables and commencing with the beatings until they all fled.

True?

MM: Yes. I admit it. I liked it that they took out their usual weapons of blaming and shaming and I was undaunted and simply kept to the issues.

MAC: Did you feel dirty afterward?

MM: Hell no!

MAC: Well I watched the whole thing and it made me very sad. I felt dirty for you.

MM: Why?

MAC: Religion, and its hold on people, is based in fear and anger, rather than faith, hope and love.

It's not often really about God at all. Rather it is about ego, money, fear and power. You do not need those things if you really believe in God. You may have to deal with those inclinations and issues in your own life, or in society, but you will certainly not run to embrace them first, and certainly not in God's name.

The fact is, Yahweh is very anti-religious.

MM: Yah-Who? Is that the divine search engine?

MAC: Very funny. You know darn well smartass. And isn't it funny that the Religionists would stone you for such a comment but God is proabably laughing?

MM: Okay. You caught me. But Excuse me...HELLLOOO...God is anti-religious? Isn't that all religion is, is about God?

MAC: No, faith hope and love are about God.

Religion is about power, control and scapegoating others because we have fear and anger within us.

That is why I am sad for them. I think they mean well but their lack of love and humility makes it impossible for them to not do damage to others. Their need to be "right" excludes some very core realities.

MM: Such as?

MAC: Well, someone once said that in the eyes of God we are always "wrong". All of us. We all know this on some level, that we are fucked up and need help. But those most opposed to this idea are the very ones who are so vehement about the dark side of humanity. Another deep irony.

MM: So you hold a pessimistoc view of humanity?

MAC: No, not at all. In fact, I see God everywhere I go and in everyone. People are beautiful and the love of God swirls around them whether they are aware of it or not. The Religionists are too afraid to just let God be God and let grace flow. They have to try and control it, bottle it and then sell it with their brand on it.

It doesn't work that way. Thus I feel sad whenever I see a group of them open up a new corporate chain and bottle it when they might just as well let it flow freely.

MM: You know you really aren't any fun anymore.

MAC: I was never really any fun after 1986.

MM: What happened in 1986?

MAC: No comment, except that I am now an iChristian.

MM: What does that mean again?

MAC: It means we are waiting for a new paradigm to emerge that is honest, relational, filled with faith, hope and love lived out in time and space, and perhaps, even a return to the words and life of Jesus rather than a poltical/consumer agenda of fear and dead religion.

MM: You know, you should have been a preacher.

MAC: I'd rather be a recluse and a writer.

Searching for Rod Swenson Part 1

Guest Appearance by me (Mac) as my friend Maugham is busy today. He was arrested last night in San Francisco for peeing on a Federal Building. He claims he could not find a bathroom for seventeen blocks after three pints of Guinness. Anyway, I'm sure they'll let him out later today. I took this picture in 1991 of Rod holding the black bean dip in the company of Mike and Nissa.
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You lose contact with people all the time, but I was thinking about Rod Swenson yesterday as I was painting. He was my unofficial teacher, although the lessons consisted mostly of our painting next to each other, discussing theory and Rod going "CHRISTOPHER!!! That's WONDERFUL!"

But i got a lot of my coloration from Rod and a sense of taking chances with a series and having fun as you worked it.

Well we lived in Sacramento at the time and now he and LizAnn are in Taiwan, and I am in the Bay Area and our lives have changed a great deal.

I am not longer married, he is. They have adopted a beautiful boy (great painting to come) and that is about all I know.

But that is why Google exists (that and for Google to makes lots of dough).

So I did a Google search and this is what I found.
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Next...

Searching for Rod Swenson Part 2

The first Rod Swenson I found taught or teaches at the University of Conneticut. His forte seems to be moving beyond Cartesian dualisms and the inherent epistimological problems inherent in such and view new models. He reminds me of The Saint, only he's not as funny and sexy.

But he does say this:

we have come to recognize more recently that in complete contrast to the 'Problem of Parmenides' the a posteriori and what may be understood as the a priori given of the epistemic act and its entailments collapse to a single set of principles. Among other things, for example, the otherwise endless and insoluble debate as to whether idealism or materialism is immediately a non-starter from this view.

A very good Rod Swenson, but not the one I am looking for. Still, I'll send his work over to the appropriate party (The Saint) as I am not smart enough to decipher this stuff, even though my degree was in Psychology.

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Next....

Searching for Rod Swenson Part 3

Rod Swenson is not a world-famous painter, but he is well know in Northern California and in the Pacific Northwest and, in China.

There are a lot of things that Rod and I share. Faith, artistic passion, unrepressed openess (we once kissed on the mouth, but that's another story) and we are both huge. I weigh in at 6'6" and, er, as of late about 275. Rod is like 6'5" and maybe about 240.

And Rod is hard of hearing so when we would meet there would be lots of yelling and the body-slamming of giants.

The reason is Rod is thinner is he does not drive. The picture above in 1991 was a few months from his 50th birthday. I'm still two years away from that millstone (hehe) and he's probably in better shape.

Rod bikes, walks or others cart him around. Did he ever drive? I have no idea. I just remember being in the cafe and seeing him bike low and lean on one of those weird sit down-lay-back bikes, usually with a weird hat and strange contentment on his face.

"There goes Rod".

Anyway, the Rod Swenson in Connneticut is not the same Rod Swenson.

So I added artist and got the Rod Swenson who use to manage the Plasmatics, wrote lyrics with Wendy O. Williams (and also Kiss) and was a photographer (he did the shirt above).

He was also William's companion and the one who found her after she killed herself.

Apparently this Rod Swenson was a control freak and very difficult.

Not the right Rod Swenson, though I'd love to see him try and handle a chainsaw.
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Next...

Searching for Rod Swenson Part 4

When I finally got past rock star managers and psychology profs concerned with autocatakinetics, I started to find his artwork, including some fantastic self portraits.

I am proud to own maybe 6 originals, including 4 "Bob the Dog" paintings, which are quite popular.

It is hard to find really great art that is engaging yet affordable. Rod has this utter commitment to having his artwork available to everyone. One of my favorites I bought for $80. I wouldn't sell it for $800, even if I was starving (actually it's currently on display in the little Jedi's room to inspire her).

Anyway if you go HERE, you will see how affordable these wonderful pieces are. And remember, the gallery (and it is a fine gallery by the way) probably gets 40 percent.

But then Rod and LizAnn live in Taipei. My guess is (and this is in sheer ignorance) that our shoestring budget here in Marin for a month would probably match theirs for most of a year if not the whole thing.

It's relative. So Rod charges $275 for a painting and I charge $3k . It works out abt the same.

Weird that way. Personally, I like his chances better because he comes HERE and sells the whole lot...then beats it back to China.

Smart guy that J-Rod.
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Next...

Searching for Rod Swenson Part 5

When I first met Rod I was seeking refuge at a "liberal" Presbyterian church in Sacramento. I had been humiluated, masticated and pooped out the far end by some Fundagelicals and yet I still retained some love for God.

I had long drak hair down my back and, well you get the overall physical picture. I had a wide berth to say the least.

Still someone found out (ah yes, I remember now who it was...) I was a long-time student and master teacher in biblical literature. After a year or two they roped me into doing a small class.

I did no promotion. I hoped no one would show.

There were four people who showed up. Great. But one was Rod.

Rejected by his girlfriend in San Francisco he, in his very late 40's had to retreat to Sacramento and live with his mother.

Someone invited him to church. He came to the class. he had twenty years of built up ammo to spray my body with.

Except that never happened.

Because I agreed with him. I laughed...we dug deeper...we explored.

He looked dizzy when we were done. But he came back the next week and every week after for a very long time.

Then he met the beautiful LizAnn, years his junior but quirky just like Rod...funny...iconoclastic...containing a certain "light" that Rod immediately saw.

He wooed her. They married and the only reason I was not there was my best friend of 30 years (who had never been married) was getting marreid the exact same day in San Diego.

Still poems were exchanged which will be posted here later.

They moved to Taiwan, then Taipei and they adopted a son there who I have never met, but seeing the painting above...omigod..so perfect.

So where are you Rod Swenson and what are you doing now?

Searching for Rod Swenson Part 6

The (e)volition of Bob the Dog

There are Bob the Dog murals in Sacramento, and they should actually be in every major American city because they have a certain quality that speaks to the inner child while also being adult and realistic.

I own the one above, and it is perhaps my favorite.

But Bob has changed over the years. The new Bob is thicker...much more so, and I am curious about that. Also, he has developed teeth and a tongue (of course he still has no eyes).

His themes are the same...and the playfulness and the ironies still swing and circle around the paintings. They are kinda irrestible unless you are dead and cynical.
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Next...

Searching for Rod Swenson Part 7

Here is a great example of how Bob has changed. Then an old favorite theme...

Searching for Rod Swenson Part 8

Bob Considers a Long Term Relationship.

This is an old theme that has been deepened. Give me some comments on what you think it means. It use to be Bob and Ms. Bob in hula skirts and guitars...now it's a bit diff.

Again...here is the link to see them all.

next art project...I am going to attempt to paint this this evening. 

Answers Three: Literary genre

Dani writes:

Dear Maugham,

What is your favorite genre?

Well, er...mine. That is why I love to write every day.

So what genre is mine?

Well Gonzo for sure after the late Good Doctor...and you must all read Fear and Loathing Las Vegas.

I like a mixture of Gonzo journalism, farce, hard-core philosophy, and humor...then I like to sex it up a bit with more relational stuff.

But humor is pretty key.

My literary mentors are an impossible grouop. Someday I should write a short book where I force them all into the same room for a night of wining, dining and debate.

Who would come?

Walker Percy (semiotics), Woody Allen (farce...and yes he would have to come alone), C.S. Lewis (theology), Anne Lamott (everything), Ernest Becker (Science and Academia), Thomas Merton (Spirituality), Thich Nyat Hanh (Wisdom), Peter Berger (Sociology), Denis DeRougemont (Love and Romance), David Sedaris (Culture), Spalding Gray (the Human Condition), and Jon Stewart (Politics).

Oh..and Bono.

Answers Two: The Political Landscape

From Tabitha:

Dear Maugham,

What do you see as the positive traits of the following political parties:

libertarians
green peace
democrats
independants
republicans
socialists
constitutionalists
communists ?

Woo-hoo...well let's note she says "positive traits" so that makes this a bit more fun and not such a downer. Obviously my answers will be short. I do, howver have to confess great depths of ignorance on the details and probably most of the main points. I am not very political, but strangely activist?

libertarians- I think they are free to do as they please, within reason.

green peace- Keep up the good work, but stop getting run over by traulers.

Did you mean Green Party? They make a lot of sense.

democrats- For not being very different from republicans, they still seem to give a rat's patootie about education, the poor, health care and the environment. That and they are sexier than the republicans who think bombing and greed are more sexy. They are mistaken.

independants- Idealists who should be listened to. Gutsy and should always be considered. My 7 year daughter (the Jedi) is an Independent. She told me the other day.

republicans- I'm drawing a blank here. Education, war, terrorism, economy, deficits, honesty, moral values...hmnnn...I'll get back to you Tabs.

socialists- Are there any Socialists anymore? I'm ignorant.

constitutionalists- Well I wish them well because if they love the Consitution they are surely doomed.

communists- I have no knowledge of what remnant remains after 1989. Perhaps a noble but utterly doomed enterprise from the beginning because people do not function that way (unless at gunpoint...I admit that does get them going a bit).

Others!?

Maugham adds!!

anarchists- They are a lot of fun at parties. You just never know what they will do next (in fact, neither do they). They dance in fountains and super-glue hockey pucks to their cars. Ya gotta love that on some level.

existentialists - okay..kind of a downer group...but they have weird eyes, wear funny hats, and quote Kierkegaard a lot. Sartre said "Hell is other people". Personally I think "Well is other people."

scientologists- They could become positive if John Travolta and Kirstie Alley would just bitch-slap Tom Cruise back to reality.

Answers One: The Revenge of the Lobster

This one came from Mitzzee:

Dear Maugham,

What's your favorite tourist attraction?

Well, Mitzzee, that is an easy one. I do not always do so well on the really high velocity rides, so I like something tamer, like Star Tours at Disneyland.

Unfortunately the last time I went it was only 18 hours after a dinner of lobster in Mexico and after waiting for 7.5 hours in line for Star Tours, I started to feel lower-intestinal issues, kinda like how the Sarlac must have felt three weeks later after ingesting Boba Fett.

Anyway, we got in and the Lobster struck back! Right there in my favorite attraction: Star Tours.

As the ship dipped and swerved I realized I was doomed. The Lobster had reached up and grapped my intestines with his claws and he was tearing them to pieces and creating a giant proton torpedo in my gut which he was preparing to fire with glee.

I could hear the rumblings down there as the Lobster cursed after the first shot (which I somehow blocked (I am trying hard not to be too graphic here).

"It's away!"

"Negative...it didn't go out...it just impacted on the intestinal wall"

I was sweating profusely and those strapped next to me started to look worried and like I might be some sort of wierdo. They were, of course, my own children, but they are very smart.

As our ship dipped down and went into the trench for the final attack run, the Lobster also made his last attack run. He turned off his navicomputer (I have no idea how he got that thing down there...must have been hidden in the refried beans) and grabbing what was left of my insides and shot one more time...

Again, I do not want to be too graphic. Let's just say that my seat belt snapped abruptly and I did a great imitation of an Apollo Moonshot right there in the Star Tours space shuttle.

People were screaming and as the ship rocket back and forth, the droid operating the ship closed the front shields and fled.

After stages three four and five I was sure I would die and the Lobster would have exacted his revenge.

But suddenly all became silent. I fell unconscious in a toxic fog.

Men in orange Haz-Mat suits stormed the empty shuttle and dragged me to safety before quarantining the entire area, including the gift shop.

I am now permanently barred not only from Disneyland, but also from parts of Mexico.

Next!

ASK MAUGHAM

I've been writing like a fiend on speed, adrenline and dark french roast. I finished the book (The Coffeehouse Diaries). It will be uop for awhile, then down as I get a publisher. For the few of you who read this blog, I am deeply grateful for your comments and encouragement. It has been fun to write these for you.

Writng, for me, is like pitching. The more I have done it (and as many of you know I do it across about 6 blogs)...really daily, the faster the ball goes and it really becomes fun. So while I am doing the marketing part I want to keep my hand in a bit, even if I'm just keeping the arm warmed up.

SOOOOOOO...you are all very bright. Would you submit some questions?????

You can ask on any subject, but if it is about me personally you may get a smart-ass answer equal to a love pat.

It can be something that has plagued you, or pissed you off, or you are just curious about.

It'll be fun!

Can you name them?

I got this idea directly from Mitzzee!

See if you can name the folks above in order.

CoffeeHouse Diary #12: The Funny Story

It's not easy to write a funny story, and even harder to write one that also has any substance. It's one of the reasons I enjoy farce, because you do it simply for the laughs and laughs are their own reward.

Plus women say that it's sexy in a man, and let's face it, a lot of us guys, writers, are not gonna win any beauty contests. Look at Hemingway, or even my Uncle Andre.

Not pretty men.

Overweight, bloated from alcohol and sitting behind a typewriter for months at a time...I mean my favorite picture of Hemingway is one where he is sprawled on the bed, his huge gut jutting up in the air looking like Shamu harpooned and beached. He's snoring and is holding a Harvey Wallbanger in one hand and Monolete's left ear in his right.

Anyway, my challenge a few days ago from good friend Sex (another story) was to write some fiction because I have been on a tear lately writing true stories or philosophical pieces .

Okay, so how do you write something "funny" (of course, she wanted me to do something really "sexy"...go figure).

It's easy to write sexy scenes, especially if you are a good writer and male because you probably write about seven or eight in your head everyday anyway (it's called fantasizing).

But there is nothing easy about writing comedy or farce. At the core is a "discrepancy" that you hold together no matter how disparate. The laugh is inbetween what is expected and what happens.

So as I was writing this piece of farce something strange happened. I wrote the Great American Novel instead.

Everyone says they will one day write a great novel, when in fact, most of them can barely pen a gift card on a birthday. Everyone has their "idea" for a novel or their screenplay. But they rarely ever write more than a few journal entries, or a grocery list. Some just sign for UPS or FedX packages.

So there I was. I set out to write a simple piece of farce and 689 pages later the novel was finished. I contacted my agent, The Colonel, who is only 5 degrees of separation away from Kevin Bacon, who is only three from the King of Finland, who is 4 away from Alexander Solzhenitsyn's fictitious character Ivan Denisovich, who has not suprisingly, not returned any of my calls.

The Colonel did return my call and I told him about the book and about Hemingway laying half naked on the bed like a beached whale and how awful it was to be a writer because you had no control really. You wake up and someone challenges you to write about sex and you want to write about humor instead (this is the only part that makes any sense, because one often leads to the other, if you get my drift), then write a huge epic that Paramount has already shown interest in.

In fact, by early the next morning word had gotten out faster than Paris Hilton can say "do me" and Warren Beatty had bid on the serial rights on eBay by noon. He and Annette argued furiously over the wisdom of this in a Yahoo chatroom, then later in an AIM chatroom, then they decided to simply turn to each other and speak.

In the meantime, Warren was outbid and was only able to purchase cereal rights to the film adaptation. So now Beatty has the cereal rights but will have to lobby the milk industry if he wants anything done with my screen adaptation.

I feel no sympathy. I didn't even want to write the damned thing. It just came out...a truly original novel. I just wanted some guffaws, not accolades and potential honorary degrees.

But by 10:30 a.m. that day I had received three honorary doctorates via Federal Express. Four more came UPS. Airbourne called and said another seven had been misrouted to Memphis the night before where a furious scanning battle had taken place between the main Federal Express tarmac and the few beleaguered Airbourne couriers.

The Airborne couriers escaped by wearing 3-D glasses and putting their hands over the "blue" side, rendering the FedX folks, and their scanners powerless to scan them.

But as I said, they were in the wrong city and so the degrees were nonetheless misdelivered to a local Piggly Wiggly the next morning and were given to the first seven customers in the express line who purchased the rotisserie chicken and a bucket of slaw.

By 2 p.m. the lucky recipients of the degrees, a faculty of seven, had formed the Maugham Malraux Graduate School of Literature in Buckhead. They had secured a campus, a groundskeeper, several grants and they celebrated over it all with rotisserie chicken, buckets of slaw and washed it down with 18 six-packs of Coca-Cola.

Of course, it is a little strange because every one of the new professors is named Maugham Malraux (imagine what that would do to your head everyday), but I hear they are thinking of color-coding themselves or using white-out to make some adjustments to the documents.

*******
I just wanted to write something funny...a farcical romp. Damn. Fucking Great American Novel. I was distracted now. And I was throughout the major middle sections of the novel. I kept wanting to crack jokes or have this powerful immigrant family suddenly kidnapped by terrorists and forced to do slave labor in a Krispy Kreme shop or a Big O Tires, or join a major religion like Wal-Mart.

But the dead seriousness was compelling. I tried antidotes that would derail me enough to get me back to farce. As I wrote I slapped in Pink Panther movies, I slapped in movies about watching Pink Panther movies.

I even tried watching Fox News.

Nothing worked. The numbers were climbing as I typed away. I tried pouring chablis on my keyboard. It simply burped and a Microsoft XP sent a pop-up, "Nice try..back to work asshole".

Life can be so unfair.

At page 600 I thought I had a plan. As the deep ironies piled on from brilliant after brilliant chapter (really going back to page one, which was truly breathtaking in it's iconographic pluralism) I saw a dream sequence coming. This was my way out. I could retro-fit all this deeply comic/tragic literature by savagely reversing field at page 604...kinda like Keir Dullea in 2001 A Space Odyssey going through the warp to the baby room, only the reverse. I would go from the baby room BACK through a massive arcade (circa 1983) and land in the board room of the newly formed graduate school named after me where I could address all the other Maugham Malraux's at once and actually steer this novel into the farcical romp it was intended to be in my own brain.

But it had already been sold on eBay and was completely out of my control. Sure, by then they had sent out a check for 5.8 million dollars, which I planned to promptly cashed at the local 7-11,but it was misrouted once again through Airbourne and promptly was used to raise a new medical facility in addition to the literature wing at the new college.

Faced with financial woes and a multi-city book tour with no agent (the Colonel had left the country by this time for Belize with the royalties from my Beatty cereal rights) or money I was forced to take a defensive posture which on limited funds consisted of hiring and hiding behind former all-Pro Bubba Paris and pretending I was J.D. Salinger.

I guess the moral is simple.

Just tell a funny story.

CoffeeHouse Diary 11: Guns and More Guns 1

I had dinner with Mac last night in Corte Madera. I managed to get him a little tight and was able to extract some stories out of his sordid past in Bible College.

I find it hard to see him there, but I love the stories, and some involve guns.

Back in the very late 70's this poor sap enrolled in a Fundamentalist Bible College in, of all places, San Francisco.

As you might expect it was in constant lock-down with barbed-wire-fencing to keep all the evils of the City at bay.

To hear him describe it it was like waking up every day in a Surrealist painting (How many Surrealist's does it take to screw in a light bulb? Answer later).

They could not wear jeans, had to sign in and out no matter where they went, had to sign "morality papers" etc...

I can't see Mac there as anything but a caged Bengal Tiger (even if he is a wuss).

But he met two other Bengal Tigers, and apparently they kept themselves sane in unusual ways. But I'll leave that to him to describe.

My interest is in guns of all kinds.

*******

One of Mac's first gun stories was about living in the dorms. A friend had taken a picture of him standing with two shotguns and he is wearing a ridiculous sort of safari suit and sunglasses.

I feel certain the man has never fired a real gun and if he did something bad would happen.

No he can only be trusted with toy guns, which is what he had at this Bible College.

To hear him describe it, it was a slightly modified Star Trek Tracer gun, the type that shoots those little plastic disks out and a moderate velocity.

Not good enough for Mac. No, he had to modify it.

The result of repositioning the spring-loading device was that it only fired maybe one out of three shots that he pulled the trigger on. The bonus was the little disks came out like lightening when they did. Blammo!

So it was no surpise that a group of young Bible students...all men (for the dorms were strictly verboten to those of the opposite sex, and I believe Mac was the only man ever to smuggle a woman into his room, but that is another story), seeing the picture of Mac with the shotguns and the caption "Do You Feel Lucky?" decided that given their sheer numbers, and the fact that the other two Bengal Tigers were off elsewhere (they checked) he would be an easy target.

Now I should note that a Bible College can be a place of great repression and suppression. Everyone is supposed to love their neighbor, but in fact, they often hate them.

Certainly Mac had built up sufficient ill-will amongst the brethren. He had, and he admits to this now, made many an announcement about the balding R.A. of his hall, "Jared Bond" saying "Jared Bond, the world's shortest, shiniest secret agent, was killed today when King King mistook him for a Ban roll-on".

This was how the attackers got the keys to his room no doubt.

Then there was Kevin across the hall who felt a bit jealous about the attention that Mac got from the Dean of Women (another story Mac will have to tell). Then there was the usual Fundie Riff-Raff that Mac constantly cut down like fresh grass, often using their own textual passages against them.

Their names were Slider and Scorfull. And they both hated him

[And I have to say, as he now describes this he exudes a certain level of shame over his actions, for he had become far too compassionate man in my view. I would gladly thrash these folks.]
_______________

Next, a knock on the door and a terse battle...

CoffeeHouse Diary 11: Guns and More Guns 2

So they were coming for him, also armed with Star Trek tracer guns and there were at least six of them.

There was a knock on the door. Mac set down his exegetical Greek commentary on the Johannine Epistles and yelled out "who is it?"

"We feel Lucky Bacdon!" the leader yelled. "And your allies are all gone!"

He slided open the draw and put on his sunglasses and made sure his modified pistol was loaded in his right hand. The normal version was in the left but would not be his area of focus. really just a distraction.

There was only maybe 6 feet from his desk, which faced the door, to what was about to come bursting through the door.

He steeled himself and then it happened.

The door swung open violently and a crowd of young men began to fire. Mac could see the disks coming in like slow motion. Most of them veared to the left or right and smecked or placked harmlessly against the back window behind him. Smeck...smeck smeck..plack...plack...plack.

But of course many of them found their way home, lodging in his hair, spinking off his vest, grazing off his shades.

But he did not pay it any mind for he had one goal...the modified tracer gun in his right hand.

And it was at that moment that he focused and fired as he saw Scorfull's gleeful face light up as moved into and fired.

Those pearly whites and the glee sharpened him as he fired. He watched a disk swing far right and smeck the wall. Then two misfires. But the next shot jumped out of the gun and drilled Scorfull just at the bottom of his front tooth, sending him reeling back through the crowd of attackers and taking half of them with him.

Mac got up, still firing and slammed his door as he heard Scorfull howling in the hallway "My tooth my TOOTH!!!! Omigod, My TOOTH!!"
_______________________

More toy guns...they are the best where humans are involved.

CoffeeHouse Diary 11: Guns and More Guns 3

I have two young sons and as violent as I can be in my writing ("let the [literary] beatings begin") I am not so physically.

So I decided that my sons should not have toy guns of any kind...until one day I came out into the yard and saw Ian grab up his rubber alligator and garb the left set of legs and begin to machine gun down his brother with the aliigator/machine gun.

They are just gonna do it.

It's everywhere. Guns.

*******

When I was talking with Mac last night he told me a story. He had a tradition of taking his sons to the beach on father's Day and they would always have a waterfight with waterguns.

But this one year they were away from regular sources of water and so he had prepared (remember, this is the same guy who modified a Star Trek tracer gun and took out a guy's tooth).

So this one year he bought motorized squirt guns that had actual "clips" that you could slap into the bottom of the pistol when the others ran out.

He hid the guns and the clips in a duffle bag dark and deep. He felt he had it under control even when he saw his sons up the hill preparing to come sweeping down like banshies.

He cooly grabbed his pistols out and set them on the picnec table amid the ample food and drink. Then he looked for the clips.

GONE.

The apple had not fallen far from the tree and the lads were one step ahead of him all the way.

Then came the rebel yell as they came howling down out of the hills in full attack mode with super-soakers and all manner of a water attack.

There were only seconds to adjust. Mac knew he was screwed. Oddly, he had a brief flashback to Scorfull reeling back after the plastic disk had richocehted off his left front tooth.

He grinned, twisted the two tops quickly off of the two sport bottles and slunk the two motorized pistols into them and began to fire as the attack began in earnest.

___________________________

What happened next...

CoffeeHouse Diary 11: Guns and More Guns 4

Howling out of the hills in a full attack run the two highlanders came down with a vengeance.

Their pre-attack treachery and planning had secured victory and they had superior numbers and water-power.

UNTIL...

The lids twisted off the sport bottles were suddenly replaced by the motorized pistols which now had a much larger cache of ammunition.

Mac raised the guns in each hand and began to fire...leading each of his attackers ever so much so that the spray would stray across their eyes as they came.

The older one went yelling off into the hills realizing that something had gone horribly wrong at the last moment. The young one just dropped down, dropped his super-soaker, rubbed his eyes and cried out "Daddy!! My eyes are stinging!!!"

It was then that Mac realized the juice in the sportsbottles was, in fact, lemonade.

________________________

But seriously folks...

CoffeeHouse Diary 11: Guns and More Guns 5

Now as you may know by now, I have been on the receiving end of a gun or two.

I have not been shot, but I have been shot at.

It's weird because if this tiny little piece of metal makes it's way into a vulnerable part of your body, you can be dead in minutes.

If not, then you just get an adrenaline rush x 5.

It certainly is nothing like television. I was up last week with The saint and he told me how it use to be...one quick shot...no blood and no one yelled...they went quiet.

[I think he misses the old days]

Anyway, we live is a far more dangerous world. Today a man was shot in London for jumping a turnstile, yet it made sense. The NRA continues it's lobby for automatic and semi-automatic assault weapons for "hunters" (gotta spray those deer!); and we speak opening of freedom when we really mean death. Another man was drunk and waved a gun which went off through his head...death and more death.

That is why guns exist...whether for humans or animals or whatever. They deliver death, which comes anyway, but a bullet comes sooner.

I like water guns, and even disks that ricochet off teeth...because it's all in good fun on some level.

Death is not.