The Tommy Page

   - By “Blondie” -

Shayla worked in a factory

She wasn’ t  history

She’s just a number

One day she gets her final pay and she goes far away.

Green trees call to me.

I am free but life is so cheap.

Scenery is still outside of me.

All alone, trapped by its beauty

Shayla turned to run away, to leave in peace and end her stay.

Years of fear were in her way

Lost in space and down she came.

Suddenly some subtle entity, some cosmic energy, brushed her like shadows.

Down here we stop to wonder

Cars on the freeway

Bright lights and thunder

Deborah Harry, lead singer of rock band, “Blondie,” co-wrote the song, “Shayla.” I love the  mystic and ambiguous imagery in many of the band’s lyrics. Extraordinary beauty and with decidedly quirky style and manner, DH has inspired me…

     Adding to the absurd and tragic proportions of George Bush’s War (“crusade”) against Iraq, the Chairman of The Pentagon, General Peter Pace, made the following comment in regards to gay men and lesbian women who serve in the armed forces: “I believe that homosexuals are immoral and that we should not condone such acts…”

     Pace’s personal attitude (“phobia”) toward gay men and lesbian women, however, does not reflect the current “DON’T ASK - DON’T TELL” policy, which allows homosexuals to serve in the military - to die for the country - just so long as these members do not tell anybody that they are, in fact, gay or lesbian.

     Later in the day on the Fox News Channel (“fair and blanced? Why, of course they are! he he he) a few fat old white men newcasters (“Fox and Friends” - with friends like this, who needs enemies?) went on to comment about the timely subject: “Those men have to take showers together,” one of the old men said with a crinkled nose.

     This is a tired, ridiculous argument that has been used for years to justify the discrimination against gay men and lesbian women who have either aspired or who did join the military.

     Why is that fat unattractive heterosexual males (such as those who appear on the Fox News Channel) always think (with delusion) that gay men have a desire to molest them in the shower? Any gay man - in the military or otherwise - will tell you that he has not the slightest interest in an out of shape heterosexual man that is not, likewise, attracted to him. As with heterosexuals, attraction (physical and emotional) is something that requires a mutual chemistry. This age-old phobic concern is laughable, since it is more often then not the ugliest and least sexually-desirable of heterosexual men who somehow think anybody    would be checking them out any where, much less a public shower. It is a poor argument from a heterocentric point of view that has been used over the years to dismiss and judge harshley - inaccurately and unfairly - against an estimated 10% of the population.

     In response to the biggoted remark, Massachusettes Democrat Senator Meehan said, “He (Pace) needs to recognize that support for overturning the don’t ask - don’t tell policy is strong and growing. the military is turning away good troops to enforce a costly policy of discrimination.”

     In spite of Pace’s inflammatory comments, there are approximately 65,000 lesbian and gay troops currently serving in the combined armed services, of which about 11,000 have been ousted for “telling.” In light of Bush’s agenda to “surge” the military population sent to Iraq by 30,000, this outdated and shameful policy is downright illogical and unintelligent.

     Louis Vizcaino, spokesman for Human Rights Campaign, said, “…General Pace’s comments were insulting and offensive to the men and women serving in the military honorably. Right now there are men and women that are in the battle lines that are in the trenches; they’re serving their country. Their sexual orientation has nothing to do with their capability to serve in the military.”

     The issue of shower taking is a trivial one, especially during war time. The women and men who might be taking showers near one another have higher priorities in mind, rather than mulliing over who might be gay, who might be straight.

     Just as President Bush has demonstrated the use of fear as a means to stir up sentiments to support his war against Iraq and Muslims throughout the world, he likewise supports anti-gay laws which disalllow gay men and women the basic rights of marriage and joining the military without the threat of being discriminated. It is part of Bush’s tactic to use biggotry and fear (“homophobia”) to perpetuate his his campaign against people he doesn’t like, such as gay people and people of the Muslim religion.

     Just as A. Hiltler ostracized those members of society who could have assisted him in winning World War II, (Albert Einstein, for example), so too has G. Bush and his militaristic-minded cronies who have dismissed about 20 gay men who specialize in speaking Arabic and Persian during a time when those specific skills are rare, in demand. (Discrimination does not help in winning wars!)

COUNTRIES THAT ALLOW GAY MEN & WOMEN TO SERVE OPENLY IN THEIR MILITARY

Argentina, Australia, Austria, The Bahamas, Belgium, Bulgaria, Canada, Colombia, Croatia, Czech Republic, Denmark, Estonia, Finland, France, Germany, Hungary, Ireland, Israel, Italy, Lithuania, Luxembourg, The Netherlands, New Zealand, Norway, Peru, Poland, Portugal, Romania, Slovenia, South Africa, Spain, Sweden, Switzerland, Taiwan, Thailand and United Kingdom

COUNTRIES THAT DO NOT ALLOW GAY MEN & WOMEN TO SERVE OPENLY IN THEIR MILITARY

Brazil, Cuba, Egypt, Iran, North Korea, Phillipines, Saudi Arabia, Syria, USA, Venezuela and Yemen.

      An interesting footnote: In Russia, what they catagorize as “well adjusted gays” (whatever that means!) are permitted to serve in that country’s military.

     The countries which discriminate against gay men and lesbian women are the countries which are known to be intolerant to all minorities. It is interesting (and scary) to note that the USA shares this discriminative policy with countries like Iran, North Korea and Syria. Hmmmmmm…

         “EVERYTHING BA-A-A-AD & BEAUTIFUL”

     February 16, 2007, I went to Sacramento’s historic Crest Theater on the K Street Mall where appearred comedienne/actress/author Sandra Bernhard,  who was performing her one woman show, “Everything Bad And Beautiful.”

     A crowd that could best be described as “ecclectic” adjourned in the art deco lobby just prior to the show. Noteworthy - a majority of the attendees were gay men and lesbian women. My own entourage included my mother, Joni, and my partner, Mike C.

     I had been a fan of Ms. Bernhard’s since the late 1980’s/early90’s - at the peak of my own “coming out” stage of life. Bernhard’s particular brand of social commentaries and anecdotal revelations, not to mention the mezmerizingly irreverent flamboyant appearrances on “The David Letterman Show,” then to follow, “The Arsenio Hall Show,” left me fascinated, inspired. For the first time, an unapologetic openly “out” gay person (who also just happened to be immensely cool and edgey) was stepping up to the plate, boldly, cleverly taking the audience where no faggot or dike had been before.

     Bernhard’s comments back in those days covered the gammet - layered and ironic statements that ranged in subject matter from racism, to sexism, to homophobia, anti-semitism and other social cultural topics. Those of us in the audience who happened to be liberal found particular enjoyment, since most of her “pokes’ were aimed at the biggotted and greedy right wingers.

     Bernhard’s 1992 film, “Without You I’m Nothing,” was ground breaking. In this remarkable project (SB’s finest work to date if one includes her earlier film role in Marin Scorcese’s film, “King Of comedy.”), SB performs a series of vinettes where she includes recreations of her own autobiographical self ( being Jewish at Christmas, for example). A series of semi-short monologues are at times intermixed with what can only be described as “interpretive singing.” Alter ego performances by SB include illustrations of Nina Simone, Diana Ross, Patty Smith and Gerogia O’Keeffe. As the title of the film implies, the theme here is an ironic allusion of sorts which depicts the symbiotic love-hate style relationship between entertainers and audience. The message here: as artists engage in disclosure, self-revealatory anecdotes, beliefs, privately held emotions, ideas and attitudes (some which may be politically incorrect, inflammatory, even), the more he/she will likely alienate himself/herself from varying audience demographics in the viewing/hearing audience. For example, in one skit SB portrays a saucey lounge singer who breaks out crooning the classic, “Mrs. Jones.” Disclosure of the singer’s orientation creates tension in parts of the audience to the point that some of the members leave the place altogether. This is a cautionary tale to artists: Do not reveal anything real or genuine (remember Lenny Bruce?) - You might lose your career! By the film’s end, SB appears on stage nearly nude, only draped by the symbolic American flag. As she sings Prince’s “Little Red Corvette” SB disrobes, serving to illustrate the “getting naked in front of the audience” metaphor. This final statement manages to infuriate  and alienate even her most die hard fan, a black lesbian woman.

                                                             *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

     Fast forward to the evening’s live performance: 

     I sit flanked between my mother and partner, in row E seats, only five rows back form the stage when I hear SB’s warbling, soaring voice from - we think - back stage somewhere. She is singing the oscar nominated Jennifer Hudson song from “Dream Girls.” It takes several minutes before we realize SB is standing at the mid rear of the theater, all lit up aglow amidst the audience. A spot light forces us to take note - a diva has arrived to our lil’ ol’ Sacramento.

     The glowing comedienne struts and enunciates the “Dream Girls” song as she makes her way down the aisle toward the stage. “She is heading right our direction!” I realize. I feel slight palpitations: the idea that she might, as some performers, chose to engage in conversation with us, pulling us (unwillingly) into her show, making us the point of her humor. “You’re going to love me! You’re going to love me!” Her voice is shakey, comical, yet emotional. Decidedly, singing is not SB’s real talent.

     And then, within my mother’s arm reach, SB takes a stance, then turns her back toward us. She continues singing, addressing a man-woman couple across the aisle from us. She takes on the attitude of a Nina Simone type persona with a noted chip on her shoulder. She speaks to the couple in the voice of a bitter, under appreciated black woman:”…It’s tough these days for a black woman,” she says disgustedly. 

     Sandra Bernhard doing her rendition of “Welcome To The Jungle,” dressed in police girl attire, toward the ending of her one woman show at the Crest Theater in Saramento.                                       

-  As Performed By Frank Sinatra -

Fairy tales come true,

It can happen to you

If you’re young at heart

You can go to extremes

with impossible schemes

You can laugh when your dreams

fall apart at the seams

All life gets more exciting

with each passing day

And love is either in your heart

or it’s on its way

Don’t you know that it’s worth

every treasure on Earth

to be young at heart?

For as rich as you are

it’s much better by far

to be young at heart

And if you should survive

to 105

look at all you’ll derive

out of being alive

Then here is the best part -

You have a head start

If you are among the very young at heart!

     One of the most joyful activities on a day off work is to go on an excursion. Last Sunday, Mike C. and I embarked on an old fashioned Sunday drive. 

     Only a short distance further up into the foothills, Mike C. and I stopped off at Michigan Bluff (in the photo below) where we were afforded a gorgeous old fashioned snow-scape. The air was fresh, the snow was brilliant white and the sun was a-glow…                 

Snow had just fallen the previous week, late February, in the northern California foothills. A perfect day it was - a blend of crisp winter and pre-spring sunshine.

    An old fashioned barn covered with snow caught my eye as for being the ideal winter time picture post card - also in historic Michigan Bluff.     

Proceding down and around the winding, then bending and potentially dangerous road, we found ourselves parked near a little water fall that trickled, then crashed out of a rock protruding over the side of the road. There is nothing quite so soothing as the sound of flowing water in the middle of quiet nature.          

Once melting snow, then flowing from the tiniest of origins, small trickles of water congregate and pull into purposeful allignment, crashing, descending toward and inevitable place - The American River below.

Splashing into a pool, the chaotic waters settle for a moment before continuing on its course…

I took a cross-legged seat near the babbling waters. From this intimate stance, shapes, textures and colors of nature’s rock, water and earth took on abstract proportions.

Stretching, pointing like wicked fingers across the sky, gnarly tree branches hovered and protruded above the creek flow, giving this little place in the woods an aura of strange, yet vital, urgency and enchantment.

Alongside the water fall an odd sight caught my attention - a curious cut-out angel had been erected and placed atop a pile of assorted boulders and rocks. Was this a burial of someone’s beloved family pet? A strange monument of sorts paying homage to this place? A real mystery in an unlikely and uninhabited place…

        - By Thom R.  Skiens - Written April 28, 2006 -

Don’t pick the state flower -

It’s against the law

Snap a picture instead

to record what you saw

The gold is now closed

It’s too early to say

The blossom shut tight

Just short of May

         Thrust up and thrust open the flower of doom

         Thrust up and thrust open it’s too late

         Too soon

         My heart has been broken

         The winter did that

         The gold still did harden

         And settled to frown

The thing - it did rise

from the ground and the seed

The place was a-covered

bright spots, take heed:

                Rise up from dark

                Rise up from dirt

                Rise up, rise up and show your face

                In spite of this ugly ridiculous place

Necks that reach

First sun to teach

A hand that will touch and tear it from soil

will break the rules

of nature here

That this great gift

to man and child

will rip the borders of civilized trash

Oh, step light amongst the orange

A trampled godsend is not a good omen

of things to come in this cruel season

Let tiny plants take their stage

in this most unpredictable place

Shacks of concrete and aged wood

Untidied industry - ruin - it could

A toxic field of man and might

The tender ones here - an odd insight

How beauty could lurk in a horrid place

amid a pavement of old workplace

daring to shine, brave to show off

The shiny ones shine

The tiny ones dare

The weeds close in

The blossoms scare

              Reach up, stretch up

              Go up and go up

              But, watch it -

              A force of man might snatch you

              Although it is against the rules

              You might be picked for collection

              to be placed amidst other living,

              other dead and pretty things 

       - By Thom R. Skiens -

Silent rage of pen in hand

Buildiing dampness on twisted fingers

Birthed ideas flowing, then like blood on white lined paper

That space of freedom like land out west -

A flowing field of liberation

Spread out and loom like promise

Oppression, repression lurks submerged

Intense and driven from pouncing forces:

             Gravity push like wind to water;

             Mighty cloud  ‘gainst rocky cliff;

             Old oak tree that stands, despite;

             Pushing hands - a bully fierce;

             Magnetic tide, a vacuum pool

Still, the hand locomote across the page

The temples pulse; thoughts - a cage

Unleashed and freed, a creature crawls

The wrist, it twitches as night time falls

The moon, she takes a prominent stage

What shape? What form? The words engage

Loud voices call at you, afar

Painful insults have left but scar

The words still come: the poet’s proof

Silent rage will not be squelched

The words appear

Nothing short of God can stop me!

The next day calm, a hopeful sky

The sun and clouds rushing by

Silent rage still lurks, submerged