babinscreams

Dear Elliot, Happy 21 st Birthday.   Today you can now engage in new activity – legally. You can get hammered in public establishments, piss away your money playing slot machines and buying stocks, and run for a seat in Parliament (provided you can pull off the accent). Twenty-one years ago, I watched your birth with a depth of feeling unmatched. That night, as you made your entrance into the world, two distinct feelings washed over me. First, I was overcome by profound beauty; a deep primal sob jumped out of my throat. Then, I was overcome with a kind of regret and sadness knowing that you would experience pain in your life; I wanted to apologize for bringing you into an existence that would include suffering. Within seconds, these feelings and thoughts passed and for the next twenty-one years I’ve enjoyed the bliss you bring to my world. Thanks for being here. Turning twenty-one is probably the last formal occasion in which another adult, welcome to the club by the way, can of...

I attended a Good Friday Christian church service last week. A friend of a friend was playing his soprano sax during the service, and the aim was to hear his playing and then join him for dinner and drinks afterwards. Having had a fling with Catholicism a few years ago, I expected to find a few moments in the ritual service that might “fill my cup” however superficially. The music was very good, with a vocalist playing piano and our friend on sax. And that’s about where anything of value ended. The service consisted of several men and women coming forward to vamp on each of the seven statements Christ is reported to have made on the cross.  Each of these was introduced by a clip depicting the crucifixion from Mel Gibson’s Christ Movie in which JC hangs from nails, flesh gashed and bruised, his body a network of open bleeding lacerations  – he looks like a pound of ground sirloin. With one exception, a woman who reacted emotionally to her own experience of sacrifice, the ...

Dad, January 25, the anniversary of your death six years ago came and went without conscious recognition this year. I was working that day, enjoying the afterglow of an extraordinary weekend. I can imagine your being fine with that. You were never one to stand on formality. Also, letting go of you is something that I must continue to do. I still carry too much of your stuff, both literally and emotionally. This past year has brought a new house, my son as room mate, the death of my first wife, the reckless conclusion of a relationship with a good woman, a new round of confronting personal defects and spiritual growth. My gratitude for all I have, starting with my life, goes out to you and Mom - thanks. Part of my journey, my therapy, is about "re-parenting" myself. In this process, I have conversations, out loud into a tape recorder - my phone actually. It's not easy creating this new paradigm of inner bonding between the "child" in me and the "adult...

Without Beginning or End Beach chatter thinking Crashed to a close When a pair of gulls, Mates, I was sure Began to dance. Soon, every being In sight Fell into step. And my heart went whoosh. I inhaled Caressing her flesh Breathing the sighs of color And saturated moans And I thanked you god For weaving my attention Into the fabric Of divine beauty Hers Mine Yours Then teaching me It is Ours Now Without beginning or end. Her lips Took mine. I could taste The nucleus of fire Descending into blue Hot moist breakers Of Mauve Carnal thunder Rich and wet Calling me in Turning me out And in shallows Amber and pink A goddess-child danced A dance Free of time Free Now Without beginning or end             - Paul Babin

"Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel!", like a pig facing slaughter. He let his shoulders fall, lip curl, posture sag, "What about me?" "What about you?" Her question was genuine. "I need you,..." "Why?" "Because you complete me, baby." "You're delusional." "That's not very nice." "Don't take it personally. We all are. Some more than others." "But, I need your love." "You have it." "But you're giving me all this harsh shit. That's not loving me." "The shit starts and ends right there behind your eyeballs. My love is what's trying to bring it out front so you might see it." "You're killing me, baby." "I think the 'you' that is spewing this drivel should be killed. It's stinking up the room." And with that, she pulled out her Glock 19 and let him have it. “Fuck Zen”, she was heard to mutter as she staggered ...

This weekend finished the second gate at my house.  I dedicated the gate to Ann.  I used  pieces of an old, circular oak table that was curbside awaiting trash pickup. I painted using oils and varnish. There are broken bits of ceramic too. When I posted this photo, people on Face Book responded favorably. One of my co-workers spoke of similar works for sale. I was thrilled by the reactions and began to contemplate being paid for work like this. I posted the following: Now, if I can appeal to the universe: "psst, hey, fate and circumstance, what if enough people became aware of my work, and found in it a value worth paying for, and I could actually cover my bills with the proceeds? What d'ya think?" I fe el like Tevia. Except he was asking to become a wealthy man. I'm already there. The wealth of joy that exists in the process of making one of these is irreplaceable. I wonder if joy would diminish when money entered the equation? " I'll make you a deal. ...

I don’t think anyone will disagree that every year  millions of guns are acquired by people in an attempt to alleviate their symptoms of fear.  Enacting laws to keep paranoid psychotics from owning automatic weapons seems like an intelligent choice; it certainly minimizes my fear of being assaulted or killed. But it seems, my fear pales in comparison to that felt by people who succumb to fantasies of “ THEM ” – the great, dark masses of conspiratorial boogie-men exploited with great success by the NRA, Islamic fundamentalists, third world dictators… all political and religious extremists. The shift in Humankind away from the compulsion to kill one another will only take place when fear yields to compassion . When inflammatory distortions spewing from the 24 hour “news” stations are seen and rebuked for what they really are: vehicles for selling product. When political leaders consistently do what’s right rather than what will inflate their own sense of power. When people’s ...

My stint in Georgia is coming to an end. And I am left with some thoughts. I was brought here to work on a movie, the latest in a series of super hero films, a franchise that's a major cash cow for a select few and the producing studio / corporation. Georgia offers huge tax incentives to film productions. And after 15 days of shooting, it's obvious the only reason to have traveled people and resources to Georgia would be to save a buck. There is not a single frame of film we exposed that could not have been captured in Los Angeles. The main set was a stretch of sandy beach here on Jekyll Island, a bridge span off the coast of Georgia. The talented greens people sunk a couple hundred palm trees into this beach, and then struggled to keep them looking like palm trees as winter temperatures dropped into the teens with wind chill. On the final days of filming, green spray paint was being administered liberally to the poor, withered fronds. We froze in abject misery  more than a c...

One of the times I miss my father the most is on those occasions when I’m awe struck by technological advances in my daily living. Some of this stuff would impress the shit out of him, and I wish I could share the gee- whiz. Stuff like: Having an Iphone with Google Map into which I type a business name and within seconds am presented with driving directions starting at my current location. Logging onto the Internet and blogging while flying from Los Angeles to Atlanta – yes, that’s how these words are being etched into digital eternity. Watching streaming movies of my choice via the Internet in High Definition. In 1992, I bought a cell phone. The damn thing was the size of a brick, consisted of a handset attached by curly cable to a base. It was absurdly expensive as was the calling plan. But I’ll never forget making the first call to my parent’s home while driving in my car. The conversation was mundane and forgettable. It was the act itself, that bold step into the future that stays...

"There was a man sitting in my office. He was very obese and was suffering from bad knees. At the end of our session he struggled to get out of the chair. He clearly was suffering as he got up. He noticed that I was watching him and turned to me, 'Ya know, Dan', he said. 'As tough as it was for me to get out of that chair, I look at you and say to myself, "Thank God, I can at least get out of the chair."' And I said, 'Ya know, I got to be honest with you, I look at you and how much of struggle it is to get out of that chair, and I think "Thank God, I don't have to go through that crap when I get old."' One of the first projects in my new house was to build this Gate of Gratitude . We both laughed because it's all a matter of perspective. It's all in where your 'mind lands' which determines how you experience life."

For the first time in years, I'm going on location to work. It's brief, only two weeks. I plan to stay on and see some of my relatives over the Christmas Holiday.  During my marriage, going on location was an ordeal that invariably created bad feelings. Michele didn't like my going and was not shy about letting me know. In my co-dependency,  I'd take responsibility for her ill feelings and be miserable. On top of that,  I would become engaged in "future mind" regarding the job and get anxious starting a week or so before departure. It got so that leaving was a huge relief, though I would feel great pain about leaving the kids. So, this time around,  I've succeeded in bringing that chaotic state of mind into the now, because I'm in a relationship with someone. And I  tread with fear when broaching the subject with her of work and staying through Christmas. My fear apparently confused my girlfriend; she got anxious and fearful. I then took responsibili...

This fun, wonderful enterprise by a bunch of volunteers made for a glorious couple days of shooting and a few challenging weeks of editing and special effects for me.

The day after Doug's  "It's Been Six Months and  I'm Still Alive" party.  At this point he had to use an oxygen bottle to breathe. A year ago, November 29th, 2009, my best friend, Doug Wright died. My reflections on the time that has passed: A year ago today, your heart gave up resisting the inevitable; your labored breathing became silent; your restless drive to keep moving ended. A year ago today all that was Doug fractured into memory, an aspect of me that you authored, and a quality of existence that has become inseparable from all that you were. Godamnit, I miss you. You were like a warm bath of acceptance, a conductor of life’s travelogue, an elixir that offered delight and laughter with every sip. Wherever “Doug” is now, if you are able to ingest these words, know that I’m doing just fine. Each day I try to let go of memory and all that ties me to time. I work to accept our relationship as it is now, to remain in acceptance, so that I ...

Doug Wright 10/29/1952 - 11/29/2009

Utah's Democrat will vote 'no' on health reform bill http://www.sltrib.com/utah/ci_13730464 Tell Rep. Jim Matheson how you feel about this: http://matheson.house.gov/contact.shtml

Ruth Sandoval, our contact in Washington, D.C. has forwarded "The Place Beneath" directly to Dr. Jill Biden, a teacher at Northern Virginia Community College. Oh, yeah, she's also married to the Vice President of the United States. Email your representatives https://writerep.house.gov/writerep/welcome.shtml Make your voices heard. Demand that all Americans have access to health insurance. The forces of Fear are hard at work to maintain the status quo.

Doug Wright - I apologize for taking so long to post something. I have kept thinking I would wait until some significant event was over and then include it in my report, but those keep forming. I am doing well, sailing through seas that vary in roughness. I had a CT scan a week and a half ago that showed a lot of disease in my lungs, especially my left, but alsoa little aeration in the upper lobe that had not appeared before, which is encouraging. My prinicipal challenge is fatigue, which I'm trying to overcome with diet and mild exercise. My skin has responded to the chemo very badly, with a grotesque rash that bleeds, and extremely dry sensitive skin all over my body. Tomorrow we'll try to figure out what to do about that. I continue writing, thinking, and driving. I just visited southern California and saw Paul, met some interesting people, as well as two friends I had not seen for twenty years. I also visited the Olive Tree. http://movingarts.us/poetry-olive.html I ...

The film is done. See it here: Doug Film or on You Tube (in two parts)