Voglio andare in biblioteca!!

Yes, indeedy! I want to go the library!

I actually might say this while I’m in Italy, gang!!

We are at long last inching our way into the ballpark of things I can see myself possibly saying while sequestered in Villa Monte Malbe in Perugia.

We shall see! But the important thing is that I’m still really enjoying the Mondly app. It’s really fun. I do real well on my quizzes, which is remarkable. They are throwing so much stuff at me every day,  only a fraction of which I am retaining at this point, because my primary focus is on revisions of Blessed By Light and then, of course, revisions of Tell My Bones. So why I score well on the quizzes is a complete mystery to me.

I guess it means that somewhere, deep down inside me, Italian is making itself known to me and that this time next year, when I step off the plane in Rome and open my mouth, fluent Italian will spring forth!

That’s the goal, anyway.

Okay!

Gosh, it’s a lovely day here today, gang. Just unbelievably pretty out there.  Last evening we had – yes, more rain! – but it has made for just a really, really nice day today.

I watched the final episode of season 6 of Endeavour last evening. It was really good, although I do have to say that it had some very tidy “happy endings” all the way around, for all the characters. But, still. It was nice to know that everything is back where it needs to be and all set up for a killer season 7 next summer!

It’s amazing how quickly I get addicted to that show. And they only do 4 episodes in a season.  In the old days, back when it first came on and I would actually watch it on a television set, I used to DVR it and re-watch each episode so many times. But now I just don’t have time. I’m lucky to watch it once. But, wow, do I love that show.

For some unknown reason, after I watched Endeavour down in the kitchen last evening, I suddenly decided to wash the downstairs bathroom floor. This is the floor that had Daddycakes’ footprints on it. After he died, I was unable to bring myself to clean the floor because of his little paw prints being there on the tile.

It’s been over 2 months now since he died, and even though there were still traces of his  paw prints on the bathroom floor, what I really actually had, was a very dirty bathroom floor.

So I tried not to get sad and I finally mopped it. I have to say, it certainly looks a lot better.

But I really miss that cat.

Okay.

Well. Nick Cave is in Nottingham tonight. And, yes, for all you Americans who, like me,  grew up on the story of Robin Hood, it turns out that Nottingham is an actual place.

Of course, I’ve known for a very long time that Nottingham is an actual place, but I remember how strange it seemed, when I first learned that it was indeed an actual place.  It just sounded so intensely mythical.

Plus, there are connections between Robin Hood and some sort of folk-hero bandit  type person who indeed lived in Sherwood Forest.

All that stuff just fascinates me.  How myths, and legends, and stuff get handed down through storytelling.

On my birth mother’s side, I am partially of Scottish descent, and that particular last name on that side is Hood.  On my birth father’s side, as I’ve detailed here on the blog, I have connections to quite a few interesting historical people, including Daniel Boone and Chief Blue Jacket. And I’m also a cousin to Louisa May Alcott.

But, on my birth mother’s side, the relatives were a lot humbler in origin. But I tell people that the family name on that side was Hood, and that I’m a direct descendant of Robin.

You’d be amazed how many people actually believe me when I say that. It’s all in how you say it, you know?  Especially if you’ve been throwing around names like Daniel Boone and Chief Blue Jacket.

Anyway. I digress.

We’ll see how it goes on Instagram tonight, but I’m noticing that people who aren’t supposed to be taking pictures with their phones during the Conversations, wait a day or two, and then suddenly the photos they weren’t supposed to take start getting posted to Instagram.

There was one photo of Nick Cave posted last night, in black & white, from Scotland that was just beautiful. So we’ll see.

I guess I’d better get to work here on the revisions of Blessed By Light. I decided to do a significant overhaul of Chapter Two, so that’s on my plate for today. And for some reason, I’m looking forward to this and not freaking out.

I leave you with this, gang. And, yes, I know, I’ve left you with this before. But yesterday, I drove into town to get groceries. On the way back, I was going my usual 95 mph. No one else on the highway.  A bit of atmospheric rain, making everything intensely green again all over Muskingum County for as far as the eye could see. I was listening to the “Wildflowers” CD for the first time in a long time, and when this song came on, I punched the REPEAT button and totally cranked up the volume.

It’s a really sexy little song, gang. A great groove.  But for some reason, when you’re driving in the rain, and this song is playing REALLY loud, and you’re sailing along super fast because you’re in Muskingum County which means that the Sheriff is never too worried about what you might be getting up to in your going-very-fast vehicle; well, then the sexiness of the song gets amp-ed up and — I don’t know — it just makes you really want to have sex.

(I know. It doesn’t take much to make me really want to have sex, but this is just, I don’t know, I guess, yet another one of those endless things that make me really want to have sex. Before you stoop to mocking me, though, you should get in your car, drive fast through Muskingum County in the rain, and crank this song, and see if it doesn’t do it for you, too.)

All righty! Thanks for visiting, gang! Have a terrific Tuesday, wherever you are in the world!! I love you guys! See ya!

[Come on, now, play it A LOT louder than that or it won’t work! – Ed.]

“Cabin Down Below”

Come on go with me, babe
Come on go with me, girl
Baby, let’s go
To the cabin down below

I got a radio
Put it on soft and low
Baby, let’s go
To the cabin down below

Well, I’ve had my eye on you
For a long, long time
I’m watching everything you do
Baby, you’re gonna be mine

Come on go with me, babe
Come on go with me, girl
Baby, let’s go
To the cabin down below

Time’s been moving slow
Since we both got here
Come on slide a little closer
Let me whisper in your ear

Well I got a radio
Turn it on soft and low
Baby, let’s go
To the cabin down below

Oh, baby, let’s go
To the cabin down below
Baby, let’s love
In the cabin down below

c – 1994 Tom Petty

Easy-Peasy, Gang!

Yes, I am of course talking about the endless editing that I’m now doing to Blessed By Light.

I finally signed off on the revisions to Chapter One (I’m really happy with them, btw; this is the strangest novel I’ve ever read, gang, and I think that’s a good thing). But then I realized that Chapter Two could be more streamlined, so I’m up to my eyeballs now in that.

But, honestly, it’s not so bad now. I got past all the stymied weirdness of the other day. And I know for sure that the whole book doesn’t need editing; it’s just these opening chapters that I want to tighten.

So.

I’m okay with it.

That’s me, btw, up at the top there. 30 years ago. I was at my best friend’s beach house in North Carolina. He has long since died from AIDS. But back then – wow, he was the only person who could calm me down.

Actually, when we knew for sure he was dying, that he would not survive, that was his main concern: “Marilyn, how are you going to be okay without me?”

And I absolutely did not know.  Although I didn’t want him dying while worrying about me, so I told him that I would figure it out – how to be okay without him.

I guess I did; I’ve managed, anyway, even though I don’t have any other “best friend” and that is super lonely. But I can guarantee you there are no other photos in existence of me looking that relaxed.

Anyway! It’s a beautiful day here. I didn’t blog earlier because I slept in until 7 a.m.!! I don’t remember the last time I did that, but it felt good. I woke up happy.  But now that I’ve switched my meditation time back to first thing in the morning, then I do that Inner Being journaling thing, and then I had to get started on the revisions. Then do yoga…

So, anyway, here we are! Day’s half over!

I’m gonna say first, though, that I am hopelessly lost now re: all these Conversations with Nick Cave in the UK. I don’t think anyone in Scotland posted to Instagram last night. Plus, all these johnny-come-latelies from London and Manchester are still posting to Instagram, confusing me, and other people who have tickets to upcoming shows back in Scandinavia are posting things that haven’t even happened yet, and since Nick Cave apparently insists on wearing the same darn suit all the time, I am losing my ability to figure out where the heck he is.

The UK is really decidedly weird, though. Meaning that they seem to be incredibly okay with detaching themselves from their phones and so not posting pictures to Instagram. So they are really just screwing me up.

Oh, sort of on an unrelated note. Right this moment there is an amazing photo of Iggy Pop on Instagram that he posted to his own official page. He’s in concert and, as usual, is only wearing clothes from the waist down. But this photo is an extreme close-up of him from the waist up. He’s in his 70s now and still really muscular, but his skin is an absolute roadmap of lines and wrinkles. It is just jaw-dropping and breathtaking. It truly is.

I love Iggy Pop.

Back in the early 80s, when I was taking that songwriting workshop with (the late) Jim Carroll, one of our assignments was to write some specific lyrics and turn them in. And at that particular time, I was reading Iggy Pop’s memoir, I Need More, from his years living in Germany. So I wrote a song about that.

Here’s a photo of page 1 of my graded assignment – Jim Carroll’s comments. (I treasure this, obviously. Usually we didn’t have to turn stuff in, we went over stuff in class. So I don’t have his handwriting on too many things.) (Oh, I adored Jim Carroll, too, in case you’re new to this lofty blog.)

The song I wrote about Iggy Pop as an assignment for Jim Carroll’s songwriting workshop in early 1984.

Jim Carroll actually terrified me. He was SUPER nice. He really was. But he was also really tall – hence, The Basketball Diaries. And I was really shy. Whenever he would stand too close to me, I would sort of silently panic and freak out. Once, I arrived for class just as he was arriving and so we road up alone together in the elevator (he was usually surrounded by a swarm of students, but this time it was just him & me). He had an intense Bronx accent, and he said, “Hey, so, what’s yer name again – Mary Ann?”

ME: (inaudible reply)

HIM (smiles): “Hm. So how ya doin’?”

ME (just a sort of chirp): “oh. you know. fine.”

I was just terrified of him. It was too funny.

One time, at the end of a class, students still all over the place, he was talking to me about something I had written and while he was talking to me, he was picking at some lint or something on the lapel of my jeans jacket. So, in essence, he was touching me. I have no clue what he was talking about because the blood just went barreling through my eardrums and drowned out everything else. I was so excited that he was, you know, sort of touching me….Anyway.

I’m not 100% positive about this, but I think that Jim Carroll died in the same way that F. Scott Fitzgerald did — had a heart attack at his desk while he was in the middle of writing something.

Well, to switch gears entirely.

After I was done meditating this morning, I decided to get yet another hotel room in NYC for after that first Conversation with Nick Cave that’s happening on Saturday night, 9/21.  I got a hotel room close to Lincoln Center.

I had been planning to maybe ask Sandra if I could just stay that one night in her pieds a terre there in the city, because it’s close to Lincoln Center.

She & her husband now live up in Rhinebeck, which is where I’ll be when we aren’t rehearsing in the city, and I’ve been worrying how intensely rude it will feel for me to leave Lincoln Center and grab that last train out of Penn Station and then arrive back at their house up in Rhinebeck really late and maybe even wake them up.

But then I was afraid to ask her if I could borrow her pieds a terre, because it feels sort of presumptuous to do that – you know, she being an actress and I’m just a lowly scribe. But mostly because I still feel really weird about being in NYC for rehearsals of my own play and then inserting these 2 Nick Cave Conversations in the middle of all that and making myself unavailable for 2 nights.

But, anyway, I finally decided on getting another hotel room and so I’ll just do that and now I feel a little more relaxed about that whole thing.

So life is just working out merrily on all fronts!

And work with Peitor on the micro-short video scripts yesterday was kind of incredible. Extremely intense. It is a shot by shot kind of script that we’re working on right now. So I’m sort of transcribing the thoughts that are in his head – the visuals.  Sort of putting a storyboard into text (before we actually storyboard it), since this particular video has almost no dialogue, and it’s loaded with abstract visuals and industrial sorts of sounds.

I was kinda tired by the time we ended the call. And we only had maybe a page and a half of script. Just intense brain-work for me. But it’s all still so exciting.

Okay, I’m gonna close.  Have a good Sunday, whatever’s left of it where you are, gang! Thanks for visiting! I love you guys. See ya.

 

Summer Fun Has Officially Begun!!

Yes! I am of course talking about the new laptop arriving and all the summer FUN involved in setting up that fucking thing!

I’m trying to think – is there anything I hate MORE than setting up new computers??!!

Hmmm.

Don’t think so!

It’s a really nice laptop, though.  I’m glad I bought it. I just need to patiently stare at it for a while and just slowly do everything it’s asking me to do, instead of trying to keep rushing through it and getting annoyed.  I hate that, though. All I ever do on my laptop is type, so how come I can’t just plug it in, open it and type??

ME (like I’m some kind of OLD person): “Grumble, grumble, grumble…”

I also got a new guitar capo yesterday! One of those kinds that looks like an alligator – a gator capo. It made me think of Tom Petty so I had to have it.  (He was from Florida, so he was all about “gator” this and “gator” that.)

The gator capo is actually ridiculously easy to use. I would have really loved one of these a million years ago, when I was still playing music professionally.

I don’t know what happened to my other capo. I only know that I put it somewhere, thinking: Surely, I’ll remember putting it here, in this very weird spot…. And then that was it. I haven’t found it since.

For some reason, I often think that putting something in the top drawer of the buffet in the dining room is a good idea.  It’s only a good idea, though, if you like that feeling of surprise when, a year later, you finally find that thing you were hunting endlessly for and go, “Wow, so this is where I put it! Wonder why I put it here?!”

But the guitar capo was not in there. I checked. And, in fact, I was relieved to discover that I have stopped putting things in the top drawer of the buffet in the dining room that don’t belong in there.

I did, however, find the Peter Rabbit silverware. I had forgotten about that.  I know I should probably give it away, along with the Cow Jumped Over the Moon dishes.  We bought that stuff for the baby that ended up not coming, back during my second marriage.  I’m not gonna post all that awfulness on such a carefree, upbeat blog as this! It is sufficient to say that I got a divorce instead of the baby and I will let it rest. Long time ago, right?

Clearly, though, I still have a lot of anger about all that and I only reconnect with the anger when I happen across the Peter Rabbit silverware and the Cow Jumped Over the Moon dishes and no child to go along with them. So it seems like I ought to just get rid of it, but I just can’t.

Anyway, when I die at age 123, having outlived by decades and decades, everyone I ever knew, and some poor creature is saddled with that task of having to go through my endless, endless, endless supply of dishes, and they come across the Peter Rabbit silverware and the Cow Jumped Over the Moon dishes, they will stop and ponder and then think, I wonder why she had this stuff? She never had a baby.

At that point, I will likely come back from the dead and say, “No I didn’t, but let me tell you a little bit about that story.” Having, of course, taken all my lovely anger to the grave

Yes, indeedy!

Which of course reminds me, that my second husband had a birthday a few days ago and he turned 65. And my first husband had a birthday yesterday and he turned 63. I find these facts incomprehensible. I do not understand how I could have 2 ex-husbands who are old men when I am still only 12 years old!

Really, it just astounds me. Mostly Wayne turning 65.  When he told me how old he was the other day, I was just flabbergasted, you know? He doesn’t look 65, or anything, or even act it, really. Still, he was 38 when we met and that was last week, right? At least that’s how it feels. It really does.

The first husband turning 63 is not really such a shock to me, even though we met when he was 24 (!!).  However, loyal readers of this lofty blog no doubt recall that for 20 years I had thought he was dead, so when he suddenly came back, that shock completely overrode how old he was, you know? But he is sweet. A real sweetheart. Really just adorable. We mostly email, but we do chat on the phone several times a year and he always makes me laugh.

It all really is just a number, gang. This whole thing about getting older. I’m absolutely not kidding when I say that I still feel 12 years old. I honestly do – just a blither, happier 12! And when I see all this silver hair in the mirror, I think, What the hell?! I still think of myself as a brunette.

Okay! Well, I actually have to get a little work done here before I have my phone call with Peitor out there in Los Angeles. We will be once again back to work on the micro-short videos.  So I’m looking forward to that. The way his mind works really just amazes me.   It’s sort of cinematic.  I’m not sure how my mind works, but it feels more linear, or something.

Well, have a super Saturday wherever you are in the world!! Thanks for visiting. I leave you with the breakfast-listening music from this morning. That incredible song that Tom Petty wrote for Stevie Nicks a million years ago, “Stop Draggin’ My Heart Around”.  I really just love the lyrics to this song, gang. He did such an awesome job. The words to this song still get to me, even all these decades later (closing in on 40 years). Mike Campbell, of course, did a great job on the music, too. He’s pretty incredible at that kind of thing – haunting stuff. God, they worked so great together. It really makes me hate what Tom Petty’s daughters are trying to do re: “the Heartbreakers,” but onward…

Okay, gang. I love you! See ya!!

“Stop Draggin’ My Heart Around”

Baby, you’ll come knocking on my front door
Same old line you used to use before
I said yeah, well
What am I supposed to do?
I didn’t know what I was getting into

So you’ve had a little trouble in town
Now you’re keeping some demons down
Stop draggin’ my
Stop draggin’ my
Stop draggin’ my heart around

It’s hard to think about what you’ve wanted
It’s hard to think about what you’ve lost
This doesn’t have to be the big get even
This doesn’t have to be anything at all

(I know you really want to tell me good-bye)
(I know you really want to be your own girl)

Baby, you could never look me in the eye
Yeah, you buckle with the weight of the words
Stop draggin’ my
Stop draggin’ my
Stop draggin’ my heart around

People running ’round loose in the world
Ain’t got nothin’ better to do
Than make a meal of some bright-eyed kid
You need someone looking after you

(I know you really want to tell me goodbye)
(I know you really want to be your own girl)

Baby, you could never look me in the eye
Yeah, you buckle with the weight of the words
Stop draggin’ my
Stop draggin’ my
Stop draggin’ my heart around

Stop draggin’ my heart around

c – 1981 Tom Petty, Mike Campbell

A Jolly Solstice to One & All!

I don’t know about you guys, but I feel worlds better today! Like a real weight has been lifted from me spiritually.

Part of it is because a truly amazing thing happened here first thing this morning: the SUN came up! For the first time in I don’t know how long, it isn’t RAINING!

I don’t mind rain, but it did go on for days. The Wakatomika Creek flooded – it doesn’t take much to flood that creek, but there is seriously a whole big bunch of water all over the place down there on the main road.

So it’s really nice to see the sun.

I had to re-think everything around here yesterday, gang. My brain just had some sort of weird meltdown. I got so stymied in Chapter One of Blessed By Light yesterday, that I knew something had to give around here.

I could tell the opening chapter was going to need re-vising now that the whole novel is finished. Meaning that, now that I know exactly how the novel ends, it re-informs how the novel starts.

However, I couldn’t get my mind wrapped around the changes I needed to make. It was like my mind suddenly decided to just stop working.  And for some reason, I couldn’t force myself to get away from my desk and focus on something/anything more productive. (Meaning, meditation and yoga.)

And so… the more frustrated I got with the chapter, the more frustrated I got with the chapter. And I was magnetically adhered to it.  No power on earth could separate me from the madness of that chapter yesterday…

So I decided that I need to go back to meditating first thing in the morning, when my resistance to everything is low. When my energy is still calm and (usually) joyful. (Which I started this morning.) And then I also need to really, really, REALLY force myself back into my daily yoga routine.  FORCE myself to take breaks from my fucking desk.

Yesterday, while I was in the throes of that immovable weirdness, I was thinking: I need to pay someone in this village to come over here every day and force me away from my desk and tell me that it’s time to do yoga and to meditate….

I mean, it felt that crazy. Like, the only way I can manage it is to be accountable to someone that I’m paying, right? Make someone stand there until I physically get up from the desk, unroll the yoga mat and get started. (Once I get started, I’m fine. I love to do yoga.  Why? Because it makes  me feel so fantastic and calm and it frees my crazy mind.)

It’s just ridiculous how fixated I can get on something until it becomes, literally, impossible for me to stop. Or to even move.  I mean, I could physically move. I did keep going down to the kitchen to get more coffee. As if amping up that nonsense was going to help me redirect my energy. It didn’t.  It just made me more intensely worse.

And I still do that journaling thing in the mornings, too. Those conversations with my Inner Being, right after breakfast.

My Inner Being wasn’t super impressed with me yesterday, either.

However, as George Harrison pointed out many, many years ago: Here comes the sun, little darling!

So I just feel lots better today.  So far, my resistance to everything imaginable on planet Earth is quite low. And I have another new coffee mug. This one is pink and it has a really loving quote by F. Scott Fitzgerald printed on it.

I love F. Scott Fitzgerald. He’s my favorite novelist. Even though I have a lot of favorite writers, for some reason, he is my absolute favorite. I guess because I fell in love with him as a man, not just as a writer, back when I was first exposed to his novels and short stories.

I mean, obviously, he had been dead forever by the time I was first exposed to his work in high school. But I still fell in love with him. Had to find out everything about him that I possibly could. A few of my current cats are named after him & his family – although “Zelli”, a kitten named after Zelda who turned out to be a boy cat, so I called him Zelli – he got adopted out to a good home.

Anyway,  I have a really loving quote by F. Scott Fitzgerald on my new coffee cup, and it feels really good to have my coffee cup love me.

Sometimes I call upon F. Scott Fitzgerald to help me in my moments of insanity as a writer.  “Help me here, please, Scott! What should I do about this chapter??!!  I mean, besides drink heavily and smoke a lot?”

Image result for f. scott fitzgerald
F. Scott Fitzgerald smoking

It sucks to not drink heavily and smoke a lot, gang.  Honestly, that was the best part of my writing in the old days – the flipside of a hard day’s work, you know?  Drink and smoke and fucking unwind.

Related image
F. Scott Fitzgerald thinking about drinking.

Since becoming a complete vegetarian many years ago (I had been a pescatarian for quite a while before that), I can no longer really drink.  Because I get drunk immediately. Alcohol goes directly into my bloodstream since the only stuff that’s ever in my stomach gets digested in about 14 seconds nowadays. And even though I was never a serious smoker – I only smoked when I drank. When they stopped making Chesterfield Kings available anywhere where I could actually get at them (apparently they are still sold in Europe but with different packaging that totally sucks), I simply gave up smoking. They were the only cigarettes I really liked.

I just can’t picture F. Scott writing his masterpieces while meditating and doing yoga, though, you know?

I often think to myself, after an endless day of being at my desk, whether the writing went well or didn’t go so hot; I often think, I should go outside on my porch, smoke a cigarette and at least drink a beer. I always have beer in the fridge for the lawn care guys. And I have Pall Malls and Marlboros around here for other people I know who smoke.

But I know I would just make myself sick. So I sit on my bed and stare out the open window and listen to music. And that’s actually really quite beautiful. And I know that next month, once rehearsals start, and my play starts becoming a reality, my whole life is gonna change. (At the very least, I hope I’ll learn how to drink again!!)

Okay, gang! The Rolling Stones have hit the road here in America! They are about 45 minutes away from me, in Chicago (I think).  I can remember the days when that would have meant a lot to me – the Stones being on tour. I saw them several times when I was young and it would cost maybe $15 to see them. Now, it’s just sort of something I see constantly on Instagram.

It’s mostly Ronnie and Keith working that Instagram thing. They are really active on it. Mick is, too, but much more in his endlessly narcissistic way. You know, for him, it seems to be all about looking 35 still, even though he had emergency heart surgery a few weeks ago. I mean, he does look great. But his posts always seem to be about how great he looks.

But with Keith and Ronnie, it’s always about the music and their daughters and wives and art and about how great life is just hanging out in the backyard. That kind of thing.

Anyway.  The Stones are rolling.

Lots of photos posted from Nick Cave’s Conversation in Manchester last night. As usual, one really good one that I wish I get get off of my phone and onto my wall.  But I’ve got enough things to keep me completely insane, I don’t need to fixate on that, too.  (Plus, there are plenty of amazing photos of Nick Cave out there that I can get onto my wall – if I had enough wall space, that is!)

And on that happy note…

I guess I really need to get back to work on Chapter One of Blessed By Light now. I hope I’m on much firmer footing here today, psychologically. I just love this novel, gang. I really do. Even if I say it myself. It just really celebrates what I love about men. It’s definitely not gonna go over too well with feminists, but then they have never really been my readers anyway. God knows.

Thanks for visiting.  I hope you enjoy this wonderful Solstice! I love you guys! See ya!

Me in my hellhole apartment on E. 12th Street, 1985! Back when I could drink & smoke & do all kinds of crazy shit to my heart’s content!

The Next Era Begins, Gang

Now that the novel is finished, that process of reading it from word one begins.

There’s always that undercurrent of doubt for me, like, Oh man, am I even gonna like this book I wrote?

But the first 19 chapters already went past the editor a couple of months ago. So I have to keep reminding myself that I’ve already read the first 19 chapters; I’ve already made the corrections and did some revisions.

I already signed off on all of that. It’s just the final 5 chapters I need the edits on, so there is no reason to fear reading this book.

I’m hoping to begin the final read-through today, only because I am really pressed for time now. I have to get back to revisions on the play as soon as I can get my mind re-focused because rehearsals begin next month. And that play needs everything I can possibly give it. And more, even.

(And talking about being afraid to read something I wrote — every time I get anywhere near that play, I always  sort of mentally retreat and find that there is something else quite pressing that needs my attention first — for instance, sitting and staring. That play freaks me out — the pressure, mostly.)

Plus, Saturday morning, Peitor and I get back to work on the micro-short video scripts.

So there is no time, and really no reason, to get bogged down in doubt over Blessed By Light.

Last evening was rather rain-filled around here! And tons of thunder & lighting. Just torrential downpours. I sat on my bed and listened to music for awhile. Thought about life.

That new single, “Paradise,” by Tropical Fuck Storm was amazing. I listened to that many times.  The official audio link is here. And then I also listened to the new Raconteurs song, “Bored & Razed,” and I really like that a lot, too.  (Official lyric video is here.)

That album, Help Us Stranger, comes out tomorrow. I pre-ordered it a while back, so I’ve already got most of the songs on that one. I think it’s a really fun, rock & roll album.

Re: London last night and Instagram… At first, it seemed like it was just gonna be Susie Cave’s shoes (And I’m not being catty – if you follow her on Instagram, she does seem to like to take a lot of photos of her shoes). However! Late last night, the photos and videos of the Conversation started getting posted. So clearly, there is something about the oddly rule-following,  law-abiding people of Birmingham

Actually, last evening, someone in Birmingham uploaded video footage from Nick Cave’s Conversation from Monday night, and they even stated, clearly, that they weren’t supposed to be using their phones there but that they couldn’t resist, and I’m glad they gave in to temptation because I watched that short little clip about 5 times. It was so funny!

I, personally, never use my phone for anything, really. I do text, God knows. And occasionally I make an actual phone call. I study my Italian on my phone and tune my guitar with my phone. Occasionally, I check piano scales with my phone. But I’m not a picture-taker.

If you follow me on Instagram, you will undoubtedly concur about my lack of picture-taking.  Occasionally, I take photos of my cats. I take photos of completed scripts and manuscripts. And I sometimes take pictures of the world surrounding my little corner of Crazeysburg.

But I would never go to any sort of public event – especially something I’ve paid for – and even have my phone turned on. I’m way old-school in that I like to sort of just experience stuff. You know, with my senses; not through my phone.

Okay, the moment of truth is gonna arrive here any moment: Will I begin reading over the manuscript and begin that final edit? Or am I gonna collapse on the bed and stare out the window?

The former is what I hope I’m gonna do; the latter is what I’m thinking I will more than likely do instead. At least for a little while. But you never know. I do have plenty of coffee sitting right here next to me and it’s still hot and that’s always an enticement of sorts for me.

(A word of caution, though: If you’re trying to entice me to do something, an offer of hot coffee is probably not gonna do it.)  (I’m not really sure what entices me these days. Certainly, telling me that I don’t look nearly as old as I am will get you way deep into the right ballpark, but too many un- enticing things could still crop up speedily to negate that.)  (Probably, you should just leave me alone altogether.)

(Still, if you feel compelled to entice me to do something, and I have that look on my face that screams: what the fuck do YOU want can’t you see I have a lot of staring I need to do today?  You could try something like: “I know you must hear this all the time, Marilyn, but you’re just so beautiful, and funny, and smart. You know, I was wondering, do you think you could ________[fill in blank] for me? Just this once? I hate to bother you…” Even I’m surprised by how effectively that works!)

Okay! I’m gonna get started here. (I hope.) Have a wonderful Thursday, wherever you are in the world. Thanks for visiting, gang.  I leave you with this: [                                             ]. Yes, that’s absolute complete and utter silence for a change. That’s me, sitting and staring, trying to figure out why I am the way I am and, worse yet, always have been. And stuff like that.

Okay! I love you guys! See ya!

Buona Sera!

I’m kind of stunned, gang, but Blessed By Light is finished.

The final chapters are being edited in NYC as we speak.

It feels so weird.  I knew it was ending soon. I knew there was a chance it was going to end this week, but I didn’t think it would end today.

I feel a little sad. I’m a little too nervous to feel happy, yet. Mostly I feel sort of confused, you know? I just wasn’t expecting this after a couple of days of feeling very, very frustrated. And last night, I got next to no sleep. I was kind of worried that I wouldn’t be productive today, at all.

But I was. And then the final 2 lines came out. In fact, I thought the final 2 lines were the title of the next chapter. But then I realized, no wait; that’s it. There is no next chapter.

It sure is an unusual novel, gang.  That much I can say with certainty.  But that’s all I’m gonna say about it for right now.

I’m not feeling hopeful that anything from the London Conversation with Nick Cave is going to make its way to Instagram tonight. There has been nothing pre-show at all. No photos of the theater, or anything. Nothing for me to ponder.

Well, there’s always something for me to ponder, but it probably won’t be on Instagram.

Okay, I guess I’ll just sort of – well, honestly, I don’t know what I’m going to do. In the old days, back in NYC, when I was married or when I was living with Mikey Rivera, whenever I finished a new novel, we’d go out to dinner to celebrate.

I’ve already watched episode 3 of Endeavour, and studied my Italian, so I suppose I can sit on my bed and look out the window and listen to Springsteen’s “Hello Sunshine” for the bazillionth time.

(But I’ve been alerted by the a1000Mistakes blog in Australia that a brand new Tropical Fuck Storm single, “Paradise,” has been dropped, which I want to listen to, too. And the Raconteurs dropped another new single this past week for their upcoming album, Help Us Stranger, which gets released Friday. I want to hear that new one, too.) (I downloaded the new Straycats album, 40, the other day. I’m not done listening to it but so far, it’s not “Rock This Town.”… but we’ll see.) (And they’ll never be Johnny Burnett & the Rock & Roll trio, but then nobody can be that!)

Well, okay, gang! I hope you have a wonderful evening underway, wherever you are in the world! And I’m gonna leave you with Johnny Burnette, apparently with my anthem for the evening, a naughty little rockabilly number – “All By Myself”!! Thanks for visiting! I love you guys. See ya.

Little girl, don’t you understand?
I wanna be your lovin’ man
All by myself, all by myself
I don’t need no one to love you
Gonna love you all by myself

Well, meet me in a hurry behind the barn
Don’t be afraid, I’ll do you no harm
All by myself, all by myself
I don’t need no one to love you
Gonna love you all by myself

Well, I got a girl who’s six feet tall
Sleeps in the kitchen with her feet in the hall
All by herself, all by herself
I don’t need no one to love her
Gonna love her all by herself

Well, I got a girl who lives on the hill
She won’t love you but her sister will
All by herself, all by herself
I don’t need no one to love you
Gonna love you all by herself

Little girl, don’t you understand?
I wanna be your lovin’ man
All by myself, all by myself
I don’t need no one to love you
Gonna love you all by myself

c – 1956 (?) Dave Bartholomew, Fats Domino

Yesterday! Who Needs It ??!!

Man, I won’t say that yesterday totally sucked, but a great big bunch of it did.

I like to think it was the full moon because I refuse to think that my life just suddenly starts sucking for no reason.

I need the cause to be celestial and wholly beyond my control.

I am, of course, mad at myself because I got no writing done on Blessed By Light. Every time I looked at it yesterday, all I saw were the current pages that were not working and I felt completely incapable of understanding how to make them work. And so, after quite a few hours of that kind of frustration, I focused on something – and someone – else.

My good friend Iris in NYC has another new book out. This one titled, Shame.  I prepared a Q &A with her to post here later this week, most likely.  So at least I managed to do  one thing productive yesterday.

Btw, Shame has just been short-listed by North of Oxford as one of their Top Reads for summer. Loyal readers of this lofty blog no doubt recall that Iris writes poetry, flash and microfiction. And even though she is one of my closest friends, I am serious when I say that she is an incredible writer. And not just because she’s my friend.

I had a lot of chores I needed to do yesterday, but I put all of them off, thinking that I needed to focus on the novel. So by last evening, I was just really pissed off. No writing got done and no chores got done, either.  All I’d done was studied Italian and watched episode 2 of Endeavor.

And that means that today I have to get out there this minute and run all the fucking errands that didn’t get done yesterday. And hopefully make headway in the novel today.

So I’m gonna scoot now, gang. But I will likely post again later this evening, when (I hope) my mind clears and my frustration subsides.

We’ll see if folks in London post to Instagram tonight. Honestly, it looks like only 2 people posted from Birmingham on Monday night, so this might be the new trend.  (I am of course talking about the Conversations with Nick Cave, if you’re new to the blog and thinking I’m out of my mind…) (I am out of my mind, but it has nothing to do with people in London or Birmingham and their Instagram habits…)

Meanwhile, have a great day. Thanks for visiting. I love you guys.  I will see ya later!

The world of author Marilyn Jaye Lewis