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Justin E. Schutz's avatar

This, this work of yours, here, is why i read you. Life is work. But if you get with the syncopation of it, you may find a bit of justice along the way. There is no grand finale, just the experience.

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Bret Primack's avatar

My favorite writer, Ben Hecht, was once asked if he had any secrets about life. The only thing I know he said, is how to keep going.

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Justin E. Schutz's avatar

Thank you Bret. Your favorite writer was, truly, simply, profound.

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Chuck Mitchell's avatar

Wonderful musings, Bret, impossible to disagree with any of it. But I must say that the $300 Bose headphones I was gifted last Christmas have helped me discover things in the music of Cecil Taylor and Van Dyke Parks (to name only two) that I never would have heard otherwise. So there’s that.

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Bret Primack's avatar

It's amazing what you can hear with some good headphones.

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Chuck Mitchell's avatar

Indeed. Levels of detail, intonation, structure and ensemble empathy and even intimacy can be mined

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Lili's avatar

I thought to myself yesterday that I missed your posts on FB. Reading this, and all your other writings I am glad you’re on Substack where I can read your work. This writing in particular resonates with me. It was enlightening and cemented some much needed answers. Spot on and eloquently stated. Thank you. Don’t know what made you share this, but I am glad you did. ⭐️⭐️⭐️

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Richard's avatar

Thank you Bret. This one hit me right in the gut and into the apex of where I am today.

You nailed it!

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Arthur Rosch's avatar

The only possible response to this is a poem I wrote twenty years ago. It's called "Prophet".

Art Rosch

Oh lord, oh lord,

what has befallen me?

That which I hoped to make straight

only becomes more twisted.

That which should be understood

only becomes more strange.

How did I come to this unexpected shore?

And what am I to make of the walking wreck of myself?

I can still think, still work,

still speak in poems

in the sleepless time of the night.

It is a mixed gift, this life, it is hard

to feel so completely lost

in complexity I don’t know how I made.

I wanted to be a radiance

but I am more like a garbage can

tipped by a raccoon in predawn hours.

I pick myself up,

I sweep my contents

into a tidy pile,

but each time I think to rest,

I am again overturned.

I speak to you, o lord,

like the wounded Jew,

like the baffled bloodied prophet,

like the broken fated sage.

I take help from any quarter,

even those with dangerous denizens.

I take comfort with the scorpion,

I sleep with diseases,

I marvel and lament

at my scattered state,

at my continued surprise that I am alive,

that I move my limbs with some dim purpose,

that I have any faculty left to cry out to you.

Oh lord, what has befallen me?

You see, I have nothing but questions.

My life could be much worse, I freely admit.

It could be much better,

I ruefully entreat.

Pieces of me have gone numb.

Whole continents of my psyche have been submerged,

drowned, forgotten.

I am the world I have made.

I am a man, dreadfully incomplete,

unwilling to meet the terror,

reluctant to behold the fire,

shrinking always from the worst case,

taking the hand of any wiser being,

like a lost child who needs to be led home.

I shall try now, lord, to snatch a bit of sleep

from the bottom of the night’s cup.

I’m glad we had this little talk.

I thank you, uncomfortably,

like one who has opened the wrong gift

at the wrong party.

Oh, is this for ME?

I’m not quite sure it fits,

I’m not sure how to use it.

I’ve broken it a little

but it still works. See?

I’ve tried, I’ve hopped on one foot,

I’ve danced insanely.

I’m still here,

waiting for your soft voice

to bring me peace.

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