Greetings realness people !
I want to congratulate Harold Pinter, the great realness author/playwright for his Nobel lecture and Nobel Prize. It was an incredible real brave speech Mr. Pinter did. The media around the world, especially in the USA, should take note and follow Mr. Pinter's example of speaking the truth of what's going on in the world instead of always selling out and hiding behind a desk in fear of telling the truth. I commend you brother Pinter. You are all the way real. Letting the world know how things really are. Along with Samuel Beckett, Harold Pinter is one of the playwrights I admire. It is such an honour to be connected to Samuel Beckett through my "Waiting for Godot"- days back at San Quentin prison. I am also connected to Harold Pinter and Eugéne Ionesco, because of a mutual friend and American publisher/agent of Samuel Beckett, Barney Rossett. Who I met during the days of "Waiting for Godot". He is an old and dear friend of Samuel Beckett and was at Samuel Beckett's house when Beckett died. Mr. Rossett and I have stayed in contact over the years. He promised to help get some of my work out into the world. Mr. Rossett kept his promise and have published me in his Evergreen review magazine. Mr. Rossett published a lot of Samuel Beckett's work from the very beginning when he owned Grove Press. He also published Pinter and Ionesco and also worked with Alan Ginsberg. He was also the first to publish a Malcolm X book. He has worked with many avant-garde poets, writers and playwrights. Mr. Rossett's magazine is now only published on website at evergreenreview.com Mr. Rossett have given me the tremendous honour to be published in his magazine. I salute you for your realness Barney Rossett and for always believing in my work and realness. It is cool for Pinter to finally get the Nobel Prize and Mr Pinter's speech is equally important. Beckett has the Nobel prize too. Thank you all for you realness.
PRISON DAY
Today i had to go back down to the work center and work with the main library in a storage room that use to be a vocation class. When level 4 prisons were still teaching trades. Now this big room is just a storage room for big Library cabinets and shelves, now being filled with lonely books. Thousands of books sit idle rotting in cold damp place where the old basement room leaks when it rains. There are thousands of legal books. Thousands of classical and history books. There are some of every kind of book down there just wasting away. Books crying for warm hands and light to touch its pages. More than once I had to stop lifting boxes or moving shelves when I come across a book I had read years ago or one I would like to read. So many books unused like songs being written and never played or sung. Books just sitting when knowledge could be shared. This is the third day I have been working down in this storage room with another guy, a library clerk nearly 70 years old. He keeps bringing up his heart problems and how we must pace ourselves. He keeps showing me his heart medication. We have fun as we work and I clown him about taking breaks, They added a younger to work with me and the older fellow. So we go at it, and it is the second day of moving up to hundred pound boxes full of books. I toss the books in boxes to the younger guy to see how much he could take. But on the third day all three of us are tired from moving boxes and filling shelves and my lower back started not allowing me to toss boxes around like paper airplanes. I welcome the end of the day and weeks and rest. I come back to cell and got at cup of soup ready to eat. One must have sardines and noodles or package beans to eat everyday because the food the prison feeds us only look good on paper. I flash my cell light for shower. I get in shower and let the warm water sooth my back. I get back to cell, pour hot water on the soup and I have fish or squeeze cheese in soup. I make me a cup of coffee and write or read and wait for the mail to be passed out. Still the best food comes in package we got from the streets and on visits. My last visit came from my long time friend from Norway, Ingunn, who vacationed here in USA. So if anyone over seas come on vacation here, please drop by. Right now I am sitting in art room listening to some classical music, as a fellow art room worker Yang is drawing up certificates for graduation this friday where I will read one of my poems "Will the rain come". I wrote that poem during time I was learning how to act. WRITING STUFF Sitting in art room waiting for poetry class to begin and an alarm went off. But fortunately there was no incident so it looks like we will have poetry class today. We have not held a class since the third week of November 2005. So right now I am sitting getting into writing mood, listening to Anna Olsson with her great great voice and music. I always listen to Anna Olsson of Sweden and Ani DiFranco great music. We had our regular guest poet from KVMR plus our #1 producer from the station. The class was full of new students so basically I did a introduction class and had the new people introduce themselves. Actually the class was rather scrambled with a bunch of people speaking at the same time. But I could understand all the anxious energy. Because we had not held class in nearly two months. Plus the class was new with more people in it than normal. I had the guest poet and producer introduce themselves and run down their link to our programs here at New Folsom. I had the cats read some poems and only a few guys had some text ready. None of the new guys had any paperwork but all of them showed interest in the class. Most of them showed they were willing to share, listen and learn. Because in reality we all are students and teachers in life.
STAY REAL SECTION
I am looking for someone particularly in Northern California or anywhere to work with me on my plays. I have at-least 7 plays written and sitting around doing nothing. Because I don't have the stage or actors or director to work with me in the texts. Unlike most other writing that can stand alone, plays must visual come alive on stage to be sharpened. Most of the plays I wrote years ago and at first I would send one out now and then and even got good reviews on how they were read by a couple of theaters. Yet still no one in the free world chose to work with me. So I just put the plays up in the late 90's. Just recently I let a couple of people read a couple plays and they raved about them. So my faith in my plays were renewed and I thought the time ripe to try and get some of the plays out into the world. I sent a couple of plays to our family radio station KVMR 89.5 in hopes that some director or playwright might contact KVMR or me. Nothing has happened although I thought I had a line on someone who wanted to work with me on a plays development. But that action seemed to have fell through. My vision on the play(s) coming to life was to have some one develope a play in a local theater and for that play to be brought behind walls to be performed inside the prison also. That was one of my dreams. Anyways I have taken the plays as far as I can without actors and a stage or a director or someone an agent or someone to push the drama for me. If anyone is interested in working directly with me do get in contact with me or with poetry bridging at KVMR.org Thanks! No I shall never stop my realness dreaming and visions of the real. I hope someone will take a chance on my realness inside one of my plays.
BIRD STUFF
They let us off lock down and I went to work and "Sara" had lost three leaves - three leaves yellow with death and the rest of the leaves and stems shaky and wilting but still strong and green. We have been of lock down for a few days and I have been giving "Sara" love. Her rich green smile is shining through again. I gave her some fish oil from sardine pack. I gave her some coffee grounds and some banana peels yesterday. The leaves that had died, I crumbled up back into her soil. It has been raining constantly for awhile, sometimes really hard. When the sky of clouds took a break and let up on the rain, hundreds of black birds appeared. Of course the ever-present pigeons showed up. The rock doves seem to bred like mice or guppies and are everywhere on Mother Earth it seems. The pigeons dancing around kissing beak inside beak when there is no food around. I wonder, are there any pigeons in the north or south poles; or in the depths of the oceans, swimming pigeons disguised as fish. Maybe the pigeons made it to the moon, mars or saturn or somewhere in space. Have the birds figured out how to make life out of nothing. It is splendid to see and feel the birds again and toss them some crumbs. It is enchanting to see and feel the sky, dark with sweet clouds and rain. Mother Earth smelling earthy fresh and green with soaked grass. No longer brown with the uneven watering of man made devices. Nothing can compare to Mother Earth's love from the sky. How she balances the wind and rain, the male and female, the fire and water. The rivers, lakes and streams all had natural balances. Like my newsletter editor, writer, friend and Peace G. Louise said so elegantly in a letter to me "Mother Earth has her own will.." and " ...that it's better that way! The planet is our home and we can't own Mother Earth. She let us live here! I just know that we cannot keep treating our Mother Earth the way we do. Cutting her lovely green hair. " Yes! I agree with you Louise! So proud of you. We have one Mother Earth that blessed us with life and love as one being with many individual expressions. Mother Earth keeps us alive. But people have run around for hundreds of years now disrespecting her and trying to alter Mother Earth's pure balanced ways. When she has always known what she is doing and what is best for people and all living beings she suckle with life. There are reasons why the rivers and streams flow the way they do. There are reasons why the winds blow the way they do. The reasons are the same as why the moon must glow and push around the sky in tune with Mother Earth. We are a reflector of Mother Earth and every being a light.
CLOSING THOUGHTS
People remember to walk in realness. Sharing your realness. Keeping peace and love and forgiveness and growth flowing like a stream in spring thaw. Stand up for the real !
Peace G. is with you all !
Stay Real
Spoon Jackson
