"I don't have any one piece where I sat down and said, 'OK, this is going to be about the secret of the universe.' I write about everyday occurrences and the day-to-day stuff that makes up a human being - "
 
 

Edwin Decker, free lance writer and poet.
 
 

Interview by J. Allison Marlowe
www.wildmoonsymphony.com
 
 

Man on the Side of the Road Playing Bagpipes
(part1)

There was a man on the side of the road
playing bagpipes. He was trying
to drown out the sound of traffic.
 

Man on the Side of the Road Playing Bagpipes
(part 2)

There was a man playing bagpipes
outside of his bankrupt marriage.

He was surprised to find a nickel on the ground
 

Man on the Side of the Road Playing Bagpipes
(part 3)

There was a man playing bagpipes
outside of the holocaust.
 

Man on the Side of the Road Playing Bagpipes
(part 4)

I took a snapshot of a man on the side of the road.

He smiled
while I played a song on my camera.
 

Man on the Side of the Road Playing Bagpipes
(part 5)

There was a man on the side of the road
playing the "Star Spangled Banner."
on his bagpipes.

Somebody hit him with a Coke can.
 
                                                    Edwin Decker
 
 
 

Ed Decker seems to me like a mellow kind of male with a grin and a sometimes beard. The kind of guy that will always be "boyish," love rock, and never grow old. To me he is a San Diego kind of guy. We exchange some gut level poetry on the Internet once in a while. I am always happy to see his latest articles in the Union Tribune, The San Diego Reader and SLAMM Magazine.

Ed always seems to be involved in one happening or another in the poetry and music field here.

Allison: What do you like about  living in San Diego?

Ed D: I don't want to say the weather because that is the obvious answer and a reason most people like it here, but I like the weather. It's so outdoor friendly. San Diego is a beautiful city. I love that it's city life here, but at the same time there is nature too. The mountains, the desert, the ocean are within easy reach. . . And since I am a city-boy who loves nature (as opposed to a nature boy who loves city) I have found my home.

Allison: I see that Blind Melon has given you space on their site; how did that come about and what is the connection?

Ed D:  It's actually the Blind Melons/Winston's site. I work for them. I bartend and have a column in their calendar/flyer that they send out.   What happened was, I went to South America for 2 months. I brought my laptop, got an apartment in Cuzco, Peru (pronounced Cooze-Ko), hooked up to the internet, explored Peru and Bolivia and then wrote about it. I still kept all my writing obligations, and also sent periodic emails back to my close friends. One of them is Mike Stifano, co-owner of the Blind Melon's/ Winston's empire. He asked to post those emails on his website changing it from informal friendly emails, to a journal on a website that anyone can access.
They were a big hit too. I got a ton of feedback from them. My travels were exciting and dangerous and lustful, which always makes for a great read. You can check 'em out at http://home.san.rr.com/melons
.
Allison: I remember something about you hiking around with an injured knee. What happened?

Ed D:  I had an ACL knee surgery about 6 months before I went to South America. There were a ton of things to explore down there, but the grand finale, and the reason Cuzco exists, was a 4 day hike into the Andes to visit the lost Inca ruins of Machu Picchu. My doctor and physical therapist both said it was too soon to be doing this kind of hiking (it WAS treacherous) but I couldn't justify coming all the way down to South America and NOT hiking the Inca trail - or as the locals call it - "The Inca Trial."  The horror and the comedy of that hike are all included in the journals which are still posted on the site.

Allison: Of all your writing do you prefer journalism or poetry?

Ed D:Well my writing is comprised of more than journalism and poetry. There's also short stories, novels, and my biweekly column (Sordid Tales of a Bartender in Heat.) My favorite writing is the creative stuff. Not that I don't enjoy the journalism part - I love the art that's involved in finding interesting people and events and revealing the story, slowly, for the audience.

Warhol talked a lot about what art is. He says that sometimes the artist doesn't create, he just points. In other words, he says; "hmm, I think that person (or thing) is interesting and so I will display it for you." I like that. It's like when you hear a new band and you want your friends to hear it, and your proud of yourself when they like it because you turned them onto it. It makes no sense really, but it gives me great pleasure.

But as I said, it's the creative stuff I like best, because I have this voice in my head, as all writers do, and I have to let it out or I shall burst. When I write a story/interview on a band or something, my job is to stay out of the story, which is difficult because my inner voice starts tyrannizing me and I have to constantly tell myself to shut up because I am a loudmouth on paper.

Allison: What do you think about censorship...? I notice the "f" word a lot in the San Diego Reader and Slamm Magazine. I read books with the "f" word and have been known to use it ... it is a good word, but should I use it on my site? You know, one "f" leads to another.

Ed D: Censorship can blow me, but that doesn't mean that, because you might not want to use the "f" word on your site, or in your magazine or whatever, that you are guilty of censorship. Private censorship isn't censorship at all, but rather a person or group of people living within their comfort zone. If I owned a magazine and didn't want to write about punk bands or something, that would be my prerogative.

However, when we talk about governmental censorship, there are few greater evils. Censorship is like a big, ugly, smelly  foot with bleeding corns whose job it is to stomp upon any and all things that the foot finds offensive. Only, it is the big ugly smelly foot with bleeding corns that is offensive. Censorship is oppression, period. It is one point of view trying to squelch another and thin is the line between censoring my words and censoring my thoughts. And I mean this at every level. Even John Rocker, even the KKK, the more offensive the idea is to me, the more pleased I am that it is allowed to assemble. When the supreme court voted to decriminalize flag burning, the late Country Dick Montana said on stage at a Beat Farmers show - "Because it is legal to burn the flag, is reason enough not to."

Ed D:  Those feelings are scattered throughout my work. I don't have any one piece where I sat down and said, 'OK, this is going to be about the secret of the universe.' I write about everyday occurrences and the day-to-day stuff that makes up a human being - and THEN I insert my worldview as it relates to the daily occurrences. Even in the straightforward interview/stories I manage to sneak in something that reveals my attitude toward life, which is this: "Hey you, get off of my cloud! Which is a message to Big Brother, bigots, and the morality police: Life is too short to be filling it up with petty grievances, and rampant hatred . Life is too short to worry about who's gay, who's on dope, who's a slut, who's a vagabond, and who's a tycoon. Worry about your own damn self.

Allison: Your poem, The Outhouse and most of your poems suggest a deep insight and empathy to me, of people in a poverty condition, much the same as what I love about the poetry of Luis Alberto Urrea, author of Ghost Sickness. I first saw his writing in the San Diego Reader.

Ed D: If you mean poverty of the soul, then yes that is where my poetry often resides. Whether it's financial poverty or romantic poverty or whatever, that leads a person to his present state of disrepair, isn't really the point. It's how the character responds to the poverty. Does he/she have strength of character and move on, does he/she crumble and die, or does he/she put it away somewhere, numb themselves, and go through the motions.
 

Allison: Do feel that your poetry peels the layers of your feelings so to speak?

Ed D: Not always. Sometimes it's more like everything is right there from the first sentence.Other times I reveal things in layers. What I never do, or never try to do anyway, is obscure my poetry's meanings in literary trickery and vague wording. I hate a poem I don't understand. Sometimes it's unavoidable - a writer may be trying very hard to convey his purpose and his meaning, and I'll still miss it because my universe may not be the same as his or hers. BUT a writer who intentionally obscures his meaning is usually doing so to disguise that he doesn't have much to say in the first place, so gives it an air of respect if it's over your head.

The fridge was empty
save for a radiator
which she wore upon her head
like the great wreath of the Mighty Boojum tree.

Huh?

Allison: What are the things that make your day?

Ed D: I love days off. I like to play disc golf in the day and check out bands at night. I like going to breakfast with my friends, I love getting an email from a stranger (or a friend) saying they loved something I've written. I love romance.

Allison: How about romance? Some of your poetry suggests bittersweet experiences and the title Sordid Tales of a Bartender in Heat, seems to tell a story of its own.

Ed D: I'd like to rally for "bittersweet experiences," to be the new textbook definition of "romance," replacing Oxford's definition: "A prevailing sense of wonder or mystery surrounding the mutual attraction in love affair."

"Bittersweet experiences," says more, don't you think? So yeah, my poetry is bittersweet, and not just the romance stuff either. Almost all of it. Because I don't like poetry, or any art, that's either all flowery and sweet or all bitter and disturbed. I like the area in between, because that's where I live.

Allison: What is the background on the title?

Ed D: The title came to me instantly. "Sordid Tales of a Bartender in Heat." It has that lasciviousness that catches the eye. Although the comedy and tragedy of our sexuality is often discussed in the column, the "in heat" part really refers to a general longing. . . A search for answers.
It was about 4 years ago. I had been writing for SLAMM for just under a year, and I was getting bored with record reviews and feature stories on bands. They all tend to read the same after a while. I wanted more of a chance to express myself and, since I have been a bartender for many years, and a drinker, I thought a column about the bar scene would go over well, especially in a town that's full of bars and service oriented people.

I knew that if I only wrote about bars, the subject would tire itself out. So, I tapped into the idea of the bartender as shaman. That he deals with such a cross section of people in various stages of joy or despair, that he is in the perfect position to observe our culture. So it's basically how the world looks through bartender's eyes.  I mix actual bar anecdotes - the comedy and tragedy of the club scene - with political and social commentary and mythology and literary references. My theory, as to why it's been so successful, is the bimodal nature of the column. It appeals to the immature kid inside of us: who looked up the word "penis" and "vagina" in the dictionary. And it appeals to our intellectual side: the analysis of a culture, the references to my literary, film, art, and musical heroes - the call for common sense and decency, it's all in there. I put it there. So I pitched my idea to SLAMM, and coincidentally, they were looking to add some pages to the layout. They liked the idea but thought the title was too long, so I had a bunch of my friends come up with alternative titles. There were some really funny ones, but none as funny as "Sordid Tales." I went back to SLAMM and pleaded to keep the title. They agreed.

Allison: What is the scene for freelance writers here?

Ed D: It's an ok scene. There's the Union-Tribune, The San Diego Reader, The Weekly, SLAMM and a slew of independent biweekly and monthly papers, but it's no NYC or San Francisco, that's for certain. Same goes for the art scene which can't touch NY's, but that's the price you pay for living in a quasi-city with nature.

The good news is, what with the internet revolution, writers are hardly bound by city lines. I write for The Stranger (in Seattle), The Cleveland Scene, The Manhattan Spirit, and the Boise Weekly and various internet magazines. In Cyberspace, NY and San Diego are equidistant.

Allison: You tell me that the market is okay in San Diego but I wonder if you ever feel it is hard to make it in the world of free lance writing.

Ed D:  I'm constantly amazed at how easy it is. Not the work. The work is hard and relentless. And you are only as good as your last story. But FINDING the work is much easier than I ever imagined. As it turns out, magazines, newspapers, online zines, they are all starved for content. Because it's such a grind for editors, filling up day after day, week after weeks of pages... finding things that are new and different, finding writers with a voice and an interesting story. It's why - when you read newspapers and magazines, or even watch televised news - that there is so much crap out there. It's because their is a lot of space to fill, and not a lot of competent people to fill it. Being timely and responsible is more important that being a good writer, or at least AS important.
If I had known this, I would have made the leap to full-time writer a long time ago.

Allison : So you have never experienced the despair many writers complain of, wanting to just hole up and write your life away, only stopping to eat, hike and have sex?

Ed D: No, I'm to lazy to do that much work. I'm much more interested in living my life than I am writing about it. However, writing enables me to live more life since, experience is my job. For one thing, it opens doors for me. All I have to do is flash a business card and I get the green light. I'm constantly looking for new experiences, with an eye on how it will work as a story. That is my enduring attraction to the job, knowing that before I work on it, I have to do it.

For awhile I've been wanting to write a "Sordid Tales" on a night out with a gaggle of strippers. Strip bars are very much part of the world of night clubs and bartenders and sexuality and I thought it would be fun to hire a limo and go boozing downtown with 4 dancers on my arm, get some great quotes, and basically raise hell. So I went into Pacers this Sunday and told a few dancers my idea and the next thing I know I've got strippers hanging on my every word and pleading to go out with me next week.

It's the good life I tell you.