Into the Light

There is this part that hides away.  The hikikimori in us, the over-booked stressed out adolescent male who, in Japan, hides away from society, and then may never come out again into the light.

When we lose a friend, or one moves away, or we become adult hikikimories (is that right for plural?) we stain ourselves and our need to be social and have the real chance of becoming weird or influenced by our own strange thinking.  The deal is that friends keep us in bounds.  They sting us with sarcasm when our thinking is out of line, they inspire us to keep doing what we did as kids, and then some, regardless of the pain.  Friends keep us alive and wanting more.

It’s simple:  when the turtle-ing instinct kicks in, kick it back by calling a friend.  or texting.  or emailing. or using Line, Kakao, Skype, your own blog or another of the myriad options for being public, or at least in touch with those who provide the necessary boundaries for a life of achievement.

Be Happy friends. Its an amazing cure-all.

And now this musical interlude:

Roy Buchanan

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Roy Buchanan

First you invited us to

have a beer in your

van, then you

offered back stage fun

by the lake in Syracuse.

The DBs,

then you, Little Feat:

a legendary

show because it changed

my life. Oh, but I still cry

about yours.  What the hell made

it impossible

for you to

resist whatever

recreational was in

front of you,

or bar fights?  Your home

town of Reston police

finally had enough, too

much, but how did this lead such

a gifted

guitarist to end it all?

Or did you

have it ended for

you?  I switched the guilt

I felt to

a story in my favor.

I still pray

our short time as friends

was good for you too.

Copyright, Doug Stuber, 2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

BC

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BC

 

On lead guitar is

Bradley Carr, adding “Midnight

Hour” to the

long list of covers

sprinkled with original

gems like “Out the Door

and Down the Road.”  We

opened for all,

from Bobby Blue Bland to Roy

Buchanan, Toy Caldwell, back

when the Iroquois

rocked, and Roanoke

offered rogues

a way to scrape by

on very little:  not that

we knew any! It

must have shocked you to

find Andrey

forced in, but right then we were

as good as any band had

to be to

continue the tour, play for

small pay, enjoy

camaraderie and

each other’s antics.

Even I

have a child now, and often

wonder what’s

going on up there.

How are you old friend?

Copyright, Doug Stuber, 2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Youth, So Joyous BB #28 June 11-12, 2008, ICN-SFO-CHT

Youth, So Joyous BB #28 June 11-12, 2008, ICN-SFO-CHT

One kept coming, called to say a cheery
goodbye, introduced friends, danced, bumped
shoulders, threw a one-on -one birthday party,
weathered a Japanese assault, passed out
resumes, laughed, posed, smiled, arched
backward, resisted, broke-up, reunited, skipped
class, drank beer, stilled a wandering heart,
broke through the walls of an impossibly complex,
lonely man, and acted as an emotional tour guide,
matching up exactly, creating social space, a
lifesaver, as my office-mate is cold, the Korean
professors wanted nothing to do with some visiting
windbag who invited them to join his class to
pick up a bag’s worth of the daily garbage strewn
by students used to living amongst discarded
packaging. No no, these “colleagues” stayed away
in droves, so it was students for lunch, family
for dinner and hundreds of hours slaving over
text-book writing, waiting for a relaxing visit from
one young smiling, jazzy, loyal, reinvigorating friend.

Copyright, Doug Stuber, 2008. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Earthquake Blues

Earthquake Blues

She didn’t get certified, so must study more, more
language, more life, more gripping handbags, thin-calved
walking, slender-footed parades, waves good-bye, the one
who didn’t dare has come and gone, leaving her with eyewear,
a slim-banded watch, see-through lace skirt, tenacious
desire, and new friend called Yaya who sits, red-eyed,
pen-stroking, jean-skirt surrounding young legs, separate
life, light blue heart-shaped hair clasp, blue sweater
on a warm, rainy day in case she has to hide her top from
conditions both frigid and hot that have crushed her party
here in Gwangju. This man she told me about won’t leave
her alone, and he proposes great things, but is not her type,
so she wears three thick layers even if this is late May.
No matter the joy, this year the earth shook, broke, quaked,
leaving no time for chit-chat. So how to connect to those
who go home before they fade out, but wait, the switch
got flipped a long time ago, so she stumbles around in his
darkness, losing certain functions, until, via friendship,
she steps out smiling, her life is her own, but she still
has red eyes, not fully aware of how it all happened.

Copyright, Doug Stuber, 2008. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 

 

 

Double Trouble

Double Trouble

Jeung Hwa snaps secrets.
Precise hands load energy
in warm Williamsburg.

Scott plays bass, Mark waits,
Rebecca: a mellow leaf
swept over water.

Profs and sophs mingle.
William and Mary laugh stars
from the sky for us.

Bricks begin and end.
Jeung Hwa smiles for home, letting
colors soak her eyes.

Another chuckle
reminds us how much we miss
those petals floating.

Copyright, Doug Stuber, 2002. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Olya

Olya

Anna A. hovers over this pen. Mimsey, Jenkin’s Mom,
Plays a frontier tune: “Jesus Loves the Little Children.”
Last night, on Olya Crawley’s birthday
(It was the twenty first here) we were reminded
Just how special this life has been. Bombs do that.
But why can’t we have a village of our friends?
Why can’t we live in one happy town?
The world is smaller, and short on time.

Eternal soulmates mingle here on earth.
Some have waited many lifetimes to be together.
Only fools fail to jump through those universal
Windows. Those tiny moments when you have
A chance to change your life forever. But an open heart
Prevails eventually: second, third, fourth chances
Until, with eyes open, the heart finds its corresponding
Mate. We’ve found ours, continents apart.

Here’s a vision of Peter: brilliant financial mind
Tempered by a flair for establishing strong economies
Via timely loans. A beach guy in warm weather, away
From London’s fog. Happy, so happy, a conscientious
Friend. who, unlike so many businessmen, delights in
Small surprises: summer breeze between Eucalyptus,
A smooth rock, a blown glass medallion to give away.
Likely this is off, so laugh and know we laugh too.

Dreams do not come true when talent goes to waste.
So it is back to the pen, the brush, the fret-board
Seeking peace in a brain too rocked by events outside
Its control. Being at the screen late last night caused
New dreams. (It was a schoolyard, then a dormitory.
It raced from the closest moments to scattered
Ethereal teardrops). Here we have bright red leaves,
But no Birches. Six children wander, finding nature’s

Offer sweet. There is a new sketch of a giant tear
With a peace sign made within it. To honor
October 22, it will be one meter square on
Canvass in time to show the strange eyes
Something new. We have seen so many things, been
So many places. There is but one soul. So my new
Thoughts persist in making my little part better while
Here, while there, while scavenging for understanding.

There she is– a smiling friend traveling two
Hundred miles to step off a platform and remain
In our minds. Small, very small and humbled,
My father reports back years later, after new soulmates
Mingle, and we lift a Christmas glass to toast the
Friends we’ve known so long. Liszt lingers now too.
Mimsey reports that he followed her around, and, one day
When she refused to go to school, she asked his ghost to

Make the rain stop or else she wouldn’t go. Poof, the rain
Stopped. Naturally she played “Liebestraum: as part of the
Serenade this afternoon. Can one quick dance charge a
Whole town? Can the frolicking peaceniks persist amid terror?
Of course they can, friend, so out you go, to the dance, to the
Show. Anna is weeping at such loose use of words, but
The point is, this village is growing. Here is to Peter and Olya, Jenny
And Doug. They know that to make the soul better you have to have fun.

Copyright, Doug Stuber, 2001. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

For My Friends

For My Friends

A friend is like a constant river flow,
A lover, more like a pond.
A friend is someone whom I know,
Of a lover I am fond.

To be a lover and a friend
Is well worth all the time.
To love someone until the end
Puts the friendship on the line.

To say I love you is very real,
Our friendship I do cherish.
And I hope and truly feel
That it shouldn’t perish.

I love you greater than love,
Love is transitory.
So let me say that being friends
Might end all allegory.

Copyright, Doug Stuber, 1974. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.