Sixties Guns: Atypical Weirdos video
Chad Deal 9:17 p.m., May 25
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John Brizzolara’s Last Column
I don't know if you will read this, John. I first met you in 1988 or so in San Diego, in a not-so-pleasant time in my life. You were a good fellow at the time, and became a wise and valued friend---something of a metaphorical "older brother." After I moved away in 1995, we spoke less and less, and things became more and more challenging for you. But I have always appreciated and valued your friendship. So I will miss seeing your columns. I haven't heard from you in at least two years, but I well remember the fun stories and entertaining escapades we shared. So I wanted to say that I---and a lot of people---wish you well. And I hope that you will drop me a line sometime. Thanks for the writing, the fellowship, and the friendship, even from a couple of thousand miles away.— March 23, 2012 3:18 p.m.
This Reminds Me of December
So I am guessing that the news is not so good for Mr. Brizzolara. All any of us can do is hope and pray for the best. Personally, I miss his voice.— January 22, 2012 1:09 p.m.
A Bit of This, a Bit of That
Hello, John... I haven't heard from you in a very long while. I know you are busy, or are wrestling with demons of various shapes and forms. So I understand. But since I am never sure if you receive my e-mails, I wanted to tell you that you have always been like a brother to me, and I wish you well. You are a good man, a fine artist, and I so hope that things are at last turning around for you. Best wishes from me and my family...— October 6, 2011 8:57 p.m.
Where Ya Been, Mr. B.?
I'm sorry to hear all of this, John. I have never bought into this "love yourself" narcissistic twaddle. I do remember this, from Tennessee Williams: "Hell is yourself and the only redemption is when a person puts himself aside to feel deeply for another person." There are many people who care for you, myself included. I hope your path winds upward soon.— September 7, 2011 8:57 p.m.
Novels for Spring into Summer
Actually, John, someday I hope you will post an essay about "The Ten Books That Most Influenced Me, and Why". I would enjoy reading your ruminations on that topic---if you ever feel like writing on that topic, I mean.— June 23, 2011 5:24 p.m.
Novels for Spring into Summer
Dear John: Always great to see your posts. I just sent you an e-mail to let you know how things are going with me and mine---nice news, I think. Drop me a line if you have time.— June 23, 2011 11:51 a.m.
Some of My Favorite Fantasies
Oh, and do you remember the pitch session for the noir detective story inspired cologne: "Mayhem"?— May 26, 2011 1:22 p.m.
Some of My Favorite Fantasies
Dear John: I don't know know if you got my recent message. Please write if you can. In other news, "Eric Blair" was George Orwell's birth name. But you have to admit that "Orwell" has some punch to it. Better than a name that sounds like a pseudonym in the first place! I hope you are doing well.— May 26, 2011 1:20 p.m.
Life of a Lemon Grove Bachelor
Mr. Brizzolara: I was sitting down with the family tonight, and we listened to a song by the late great Warren Zevon. It sounds like some of the philosophy I used to hear from you. Maybe it will make you smile. Don't Let Us Get Sick (Warren Zevon) Don't let us get sick Don't let us get old Don't let us get stupid, all right? Just make us be brave And make us play nice And let us be together tonight The sky was on fire When I walked to the mill To take up the slack in the line I thought of my friends And the troubles they've had To keep me from thinking of mine Don't let us get sick Don't let us get old Don't let us get stupid, all right? Just make us be brave And make us play nice And let us be together tonight The moon has a face And it smiles on the lake And causes the ripples in Time I'm lucky to be here With someone I like Who maketh my spirit to shine Don't let us get sick Don't let us get old Don't let us get stupid, all right? Just make us be brave And make us play nice And let us be together tonight Mr. Brizzolara, that's the story: just make us be brave, and make us play nice. I miss our conversations, and hope you are well.— April 10, 2011 8:53 p.m.
Incurable Romantics
Well, I think that we can all learn to live between the ticks of an inexorable clock. None of us have forever, at least as we are. And by focusing on the far view, we ignore the immediate at our peril, like experiencing life through the viewfinder of a camera: not real life. William Blake urged us thusly: "To see a world in a grain of sand, And a heaven in a wild flower, Hold infinity in the palm of your hand, And eternity in an hour." But the end of the poem is wonderful (and this poet used to see Psalms in words of fire, he claimed). "We are led to believe a lie When we see not thro' the eye, Which was born in a night to perish in a night, When the soul slept in beams of light. God appears, and God is light, To those poor souls who dwell in night; But does a human form display To those who dwell in realms of day." Happy Valentine's Day, my old friend.— February 12, 2011 12:28 p.m.