Dear Santa,

This is the first letter I’ve written to you since kindergarten.  You might have answered that letter but of course I probably asked for a Mr. Potato Head and or a Davey Crocket cap or maybe a set of Pick-Up-Sticks…so my requests weren’t over the top gifts for you to find, locate and then deliver.  I’m pretty sure I wasn’t thinking large like a bicycle or a pony at that stage of my career…..and I would wager that all my requests were under the tree in 1951.

In 1952 at the ripe old age of 6, me and my brother Jerry, who was 10 at the time, and my sister Gigi who was 6 months old, did indeed receive a real life horse.  Her name was Nancy and she was a Palomino-Paint of some unknown breed.  My step-father rode this beautiful lady down the driveway with red ribbons in her mane and tail.  We had moved from Hollywood the previous summer and that Christmas was quite memorable…..and basically was the beginning of our 4 H experience.  I obviously remember working and playing with many other animals that we raised on our small “ranch” in Sylmar California….but that moment on Christmas day 1952 jumps out when I recall my childhood Christmas memories. At the time Sylmar was similar to Montana but of course on a much smaller scale.  Our “ranch” was about 5 acres and contained almost every form of farm animal that one can imagine except of course Mr. Pig or Mr. Cow.   We had no Swine after Pearls but we had tons of four and two legged creatures.

The only reason I’m telling you this Santa is because I want to remind you that impossible things can still happen if you put your mind to the task at hand.

I’m writing this letter to ask for a few specific things.

First I need an agent. 

Second I need a Public Relations person. 

Thirdly I need a publicist  (slightly different than PR)

Fourthly I need an art patron.

I’d ask for more but I’ve never used the fifthly word in a sentence.

The order of the four requests is not important but each of those entities is extremely important for the next stage of my personal evolution.

I’m was extremely pleased with my various 2014 exposures, but knowing that I’m just getting started in the exposure arena one must understand that the moments I had, being able to share my “stuff,” were just whistle wetter’s….teasers….and hints of what I might accomplish.

Santa, since you are the main fictional secular character in the life of so many young people on this planet…..I thought maybe that including an older artist on your to do list might not be such a bad idea.

Think about the extra publicity if you grant these four little things.  Now, I realize that some won’t regard these “things” as little, but for a person with your show biz connections I feel secure in saying….”this should be an OMG no problem dude done deal” for you….after all, you are the man.

 You are the dream maker and  right now I imagine there are at least 20 to 40 million very young people writing letters to you and getting ready to mail them out.

 

So what’s one more?

 

And the fact that I’m writing my letter on Google’s BlogSpot site simply means I’m saving paper and for that I should be rewarded…..right?

 

I know you are busy and I realize this is the home stretch but if you vet my entire practice schedule and see how I’ve stuck to the plan you will agree that it’s now time for the BIGGER PICTURE to unfold.

 

Those four things I need, will help make it happen.  Of course if the Art Patron comes through first, I might be able to figure out how to do the other three things on my own.

 

I don’t want to…..but I would if that’s the only gift you can find in that very large bag of tricks that  must filled up and delivered by the 25^th.

 

If you need any extra help….don’t hesitate to call.

 

I’m listed in the phone book.

 

Thanks BIG MAN

 

Michael Timothy McAlevey

This is IT

12-8-2014

It’s so obvious that I’m doing something extremely wrong
And it can’t be blamed on writing a silly poem or a really stupid song
It’s got to be something that hides behind the façade of my core
I keep pushing the edges of artistic and scientific reality
but I need to do more

 

If I think and concentrate on what I’ve failed to achieve
Than I start to question what I’m supposed to believe
And then it hits me in an area where I just don’t care
Smack dab in the wallet and the large empty air

 

I mean it’s really empty and void of things that I need
A quantum void that thinks my protons should bleed
Something is missing in the program I’ve selected
And it makes me wonder what exactly I’ve neglected

 

I can look at my work and see what I’ve done
But simply doing the work doesn’t create much fun
IF
I can’t even afford to pay my rent
The direction I travel just makes me wonder where I went

 

I came here from there and then moved over to another road
And then I remember what I haven’t been told
Of course one needs coin for the basic supplies
But it can’t be the goal when seeking the spiritual wise

 

Seriously…it’s obvious that I’m doing something wrong
And I wish I could blame it on this stupid poem or song
But it’s bigger
And
it’s stronger
And beats me down every time
There is no money in a white man’s rhyme

 

I hear other’s tell me that I’ve got so much going on
And then I hear those same people say
I hate that song
You are doing something wrong
Please make it short
I’ve got to move along
 

I’ve gotten help from family and friends many times before
But that one big patron
Just hides
Behind an unseen door

 

 And it must be my fault that I can’t find the key

I’d hate to think
That’s its
just
Me
Being
Me

 

That’s not good for keeping a positive point of view

So I always turn it around
And
Blame it on
You

 

Why should you take an interest in what I’m trying to achieve

When you aren’t even sure in what I believe

 

I’m the one not making it perfectly clear

So I’m the one who creates the fear
While asking others to stand and cheer
And that emotional devotional hodgepodge of random semi awareness
Results
In a personal cosmic unfairness

I blame others for not seeing who I am

And who I am
Might not be who I thought I was
And that might be based on
Just
Because

There is no simple answer to the questions I seek

So I dance behind the curtain of the poor and the bleak
I don’t over spend and I don’t throw it away
But when it comes to making money
It’s a game I can’t play

 

I rationalize the poverty by saying look what I’ve done

But after everything is accounted for
It’s not really fun

 

I make beautiful designs with extreme color and flow

and some of them even have a unique type of glow
To ask others to help pay my way is really not my goal
But it keeps playing out that way and it’s hurting my soul

 

If what I make doesn’t pay the rent

Then it’s time to look down the road from where I have went
And stop and question the very nature of my being
Which when one does that it’s to the past one must cling

 

I don’t like the thought of looking back to see where I’ve been

I’d rather go forward and create a new trend
Something that is different in style and design
A unique way of maneuvering between the walls of mind

 

BUT WTF

 

It’s so obvious that I’m doing something wrong
And it can’t be blamed on writing a silly poem or a stupid song
It’s got to be something that hides behind the façade of my basic core

I keep pushing the edges of a not so obvious reality
but it’s perfectly and wonderfully clear
that
I
need

to

do

more