Author Archives: Scottt
Born in Kuwait circa 2015 when the Kuwaiti government was endorsing lethal gunshot and poisoning as forms of animal control, #vannawhite was amongst the few lucky #felines who were rescued by an incredible group of American animal rights activists. Upon Vanna’a arrival to the US, she was fostered by an #Amish family in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. Yarden came across Vanna’s adoption advertisement on the #PAWS website while she was applying to #medschool; a time of utmost stress and uncertainty.
As told by Dr. Yarden Cohen…
“I remember driving home from Pennsylvania with Vanna curled up in the front seat. I told her everything about my life and who I was. I told her all about my former cats, about my family, about my passions, my goals, my dreams and, of course, about my favorite TV show, #wheeloffortune
She didn’t meow once.
“A few months later Vanna and I were on the airplane to #Grenada for what would be the most challenging 2 years of my life. I don’t know how I would have made it through that time without her. Vanna has been there with me through some of the most difficult days of my life and though I don’t argue that she understands the English language or that she embodies the ability to think and act with human rationale, I do believe she has learned, through associating behavior and outcome, the practice of #companionship and the art of #unyielding #compassion“. She is the very #best. Thank you my little #kittenmitten my little Vanna Banana White Cohen.”
After many years of doing background work in between poetry tours I am happy to report, I have earned my SAG card. I am extremely grateful I was able to make a living (primarily) as a poet performing in colleges and theaters these past 10 years with MayhemPoets keeping me grounded, humble and whole and thankful for the generosity afforded to me both on the road and while on sets.
I’ve had some memorable experiences and some easily forgettable ones, where I was simply fed (and paid) to listen to podcasts, write sonnets and read obscure non-fiction I didn’t quite understand.*
We are all aware of the elitism that often comes from SAG toward Non-Union and the frustrations of 10 sometimes 12 or more hour days spent swimming inside a segregated pool of the waived and unwaived. Sometimes catching one on the right day is a stroke of luck and sometimes a stroke of genius. Just know Union or Non, many of you are ridiculously talented. Don’t you forget it, your butterfly will reach the sky!
Others, who may be crawling along at various points in any of the above lanes, learn how to stay in the pool and stay afloat, hopefully engaged in some other semi-related aquatic sport (especially when tides are low).
If you choose to leave the water, let’s say move to a land-locked country cabin with the love of your life, shoot to be each other’s star and capture the most picaresque moments for yourselves. And if you still feel the need to soak yourself in stardust, there’s always the community pool.
Perhaps as time passes you find yourself hovering round the kiddie pool, cheering on your Lil Louganis before he or she reaches a new Age of Aquarius. Be supportive, but let your budding Summer Sanders find her own lane, build her own castles. It’s okay to keep your feet wet, but try and keep your Hair out the water while your son or daughter catches breaks.
And to those goggley-eyed, chlorinated clueless newbies, some fortunate enough to ride the big kahuna to the starry shores, you may have somethings to teach, but you still have lots to learn. There may be no lifeguard in live theater, but double take your time if you have to, remember to breathe, then dive in when you are ready from head to toe.
Back on land if you have 12 hours to spend with strangers, sure, make friends but also work. If they don’t want to or have yet to use you, use your time to finish that web-series, polish that screenplay, rehearse that monologue. Take hold of holding and fill in the gaps with beautiful creations all your own.
*Read about some of my on-set experiences in my new collection of stories and poems, “6 Piece-Chicken,” coming in April. (This is a first draft of a longer post)
The End of The…
Heigh ho silver linings bipolar steed.
On a miserable-go-round you might need
Ritalin and speed to reverse the weed
Should you put cart before white roan can lead.
In lieu of whinnying go breathe and ‘yay’!
Needleless to say can’t find a haystack
Giddying down, so saddle up this way
And don’t play horseshoes with crabs who pray that
Stirrups break feet of all who meet their Reeves.
Quit it’s a bird complaining, start suping
Up no matter what the next X-ray sees
And improve the mood before Lex losing.
Ride off into the sunrise, see the light
Energize your mind, blind the Antichrist.
The following is a excerpted version of a poem commissioned by Poetic People Power that debuted in performance
on July 31st 2013 at the WILD PROJECT. It is soon to be adapted into a story on an upcoming subscription based website dealing with social issues:
There are times I consider myself a wordsmith and nothing more. Most of the times I take a stand, I am sitting –
in front of my computer on the coach in my boxers with a cup of carrot juice and some books –
writing up a storm.
I perform this poem as a dream for the wealthiest among us to hold the soul of a poet in their hearts.
Inside the coffeehouse
that they own
the billionaire poets could easily write an ode
to the thousand dollar bill
using their thirty carat diamond Diamante pens,
with the eighteen karat gold nib
filled with the blood of emaciated artists
and unlawful investments.
Instead they fill stadiums
with the organic fruits of their labors,
tossing tomatoes back at hungry crowds
whose sobering cheers defuse the boos
catapulting cant-elopes to expand minds in states
that have yet to change their views.
Next, they attempt to straw-bury the blues
by cherry picking poems from recent news of bloodshed and injustice.
Skittle poems that taste the rainbow of reinCarnation.
Flower poems that shower sweatshops with sprinklers and paid vacations
pushing Daisies to clone Apple products on back order.
Poems that expose factories to roses, color outside lines
and remove all horticultural borders,
just so that after….wards these poets can donate their pages
to minimum wage wordsmiths underperforming for the quarter.
Then they celebrate,
by giving motivational speeches to fetuses,
by cashing reality checks
for any head-in-the-cloud bleeding heart elitists
who may never learn to fly,
and by offering up heaps of 3.14159 repeating
’til everyone gets a piece of the PI…