I took a much needed time out yesterday. After four days of concrete pounding, midway twisting, absence of sobriety, my body no longer could keep up with my heart and desires. Besides, I had some work related housekeeping to do and some friends to visit.

Let me say first that the one single question that is most annoying to me these days comes from those I love the most. “Are you enjoying the Fair?” Or, “how is the Fair?” How would you like to have a party and nobody comes? If you have to ask me that question, (1) you don’t know me as well as you think you do, and (2) I know you are not reading my stuff. I growl inside, smile outwardly, and remind folks why I love the Fair.

I can probably synthesize my adoration for the Fair as being my adoration for the idea of the Fair. Straight from the pages of Charlotte’s Web, the State Fair is supposed to be a place of wonderment and joy, miracles and discovery. I am not blind to the reality of the Fair; having become of late nothing more than a glorified yard sale and block party.

Everybody has an art. Some people paint. Others sculpt as a means of expression. Musicians create such sweet melodies. I write. Yes, I love to show off my work but in reality, I write because it is how I let loose my muse and the little bugs that crawl around inside my head and under my skin.

Those of you who fish or hunt know the times you stalk patiently for hours and days without a catch. Then there are those days when fish jump into your boat. As I am always hunting about and fishing around for concepts about which to write … movie reviews, porn, politics … our own New York State Fair provides me with the most fertile ground for my art. It is like fishing with dynamite in a barrel. There are a million stories at the Fair; the hard part is finding the good ones. Any idiot can write a homily to a dead rooster or sample corn dogs. Real observers will give their readers a raison d'etre ... not a raison to fill white space. Boiled down to its greasy gravy, the Fair through my eyes is a microcosmic display of all humanity constantly recreating itself in new configurations. In each change, I see new potential.

The Fair is also part of my vacation and is about the only place I can be outside, teetering over the edge of sobriety and pose no threat to man or beast … not even to myself. I can let go of many social conventions which constraint me in my world.

So please, stop asking me “how is the Fair” or “why do I enjoy the Fair”. I am an idiot and out of my mind crazy. Most folks accept that explanation easier than the fishing analogy.

I do not need the Fair, however, to find subject material for artistic expression. It is everywhere.

First, let me share with you the opening paragraph to a letter I wrote yesterday. Those of you who remember my truck was recently stolen, remember too that it was found abandoned by police 9 hours after a meter maid put a City of Syracuse parking ticket on it where the thief abandoned the truck. The parking ticket required me to ‘pay or plead’ by August 31, 2006.

“Dear City of Syracuse Parking Violations Bureau Folks. Regarding your letter of August 23, 2006 entitled ‘SECOND NOTICE OF VIOLATION’. Please forgive me in my delay in communicating with your office regarding the above referenced violation. When I read on the face of the Notice of Violation that I had until 8/31/06 to pay or challenge, I assumed that I actually had until August 31, 2006 to respond. It was very thoughtless of me to not respond to you beforehand; prompting your office to have to expend time and energy to print, copy, and mail me a second notice.”

I meant every word I wrote. Also, I meant everything that is written in between the lines.

Then, there was an email I received from a soldier apparently serving with the United States military in Iraq. “ Sergeant John Fitte, D Company, 2nd Battalion, 22nd Infantry Regiment. Good day. I am Sergeant John Fitte, an American Soldier. I am serving in the US Army of D Company, 2nd Battalion 22nd,Infantary Regiment, Iraq. As you know we are being attacked by insurgents everyday and car bombs.I and my crew members discovered $650M USD in Saddam Hussein's palace in April 2003.”

“We now managed to move away a total sum US$25 Million dollars cash out from the $650MUSD, mostly 100-dollar bills and was quickly flown out of the warzone and deposited in an undisclosed security company in UK. You can as well click on the site for more details about the funds.”

“Unfortunately, the rest of my crew members have lost dear lives to the wicked Iraqi insurgents. Also very soon all the troops will be withdrawn from Iraq, I therefore seek your partnership to assist me transfer these funds into your account and invest the funds without further delay. I will take 65% while you take the other 30% and 5% will be for expenses, no strings.”

“If you are interested I will send you the full details but my fear is Can I trust you? When you receive this letter, kindly send me an e-mail signifying your interest including your most confidential telephone/fax numbers in order to forward to the Security company for the release of the funds in your names or your company.”

“This business is risk free.”

“Respectfully, Sgt John Fitte.”

Have the Nigerians gone out of business? Apparently, not all hucksters live on the Midway.

Last, there was the unsolicited voice mail left on my cell phone by “Bill Rude” on behalf of Andrew Cuomo who tied Cuomo to Spitzer and Clinton. He said that Cuomo while in the Clinton Administration, had a record of taking on the big fights that “matter to us” and against the “big banks and insurance companies that rip people off” and the “gun makers who arm street gangs”. I was asked if they could count on my support. Not likely; since Mr. Rude ate my cell phone minutes, Mr. Cuomo owes me $2.50. Since Rude’s candidate is running on name recognition and not accomplishment, I have no interest in his candidacy. What kind of way is this to do business or get out a message? Just who did Mr. Rude think the was talking to?

Please folks, don’t complain about me being nuts at the Fair. Reality itself is already insanity. The Fair is no different than life anywhere else. Bring together human beings with conflicting interests and common goals and you end up with chaos. Not all the idiots work the Midway rides. Some sit behind computers at the City of Syracuse Parking Violations Bureau.

See you at the Fair.