But the good news is that the special lube for the treadmill belt will arrive sometime today, and I can finally put that treadmill together and start using it.
I actually am really looking forward to it. I love treadmills. And even though I actually really like the current aerobics workout I’ve been doing lately, it’s still a video that I have to log on to. With a treadmill, I can stream anything I feel like watching, or just listen to music, or listen to something more spiritual. I like having those options.
The onslaught mentioned above, refers to a bunch of private stuff I can’t go into detail about on the blog. I can only say that some of it is family stuff that is truly distressing me, but there’s nothing I can do about it. Some of it has to do with really distressing stuff a business partner is going through, that affects me, sort of by proxy.
And then also just some private affairs of the heart which are just challenging me beyond belief around here, gang. But onward. End-times come when they come, and I just have to learn how to change. I’m actually pretty good with change, once I get past the heartache of it, you know? This one is a doozy, though.
If you follow me on Facebook, you probably saw that I re-posted the Balladeer’s post of an interesting video of black businessmen discussing on an interview show about how, in his private life, Trump had given the black businessmen private business loans that saved their businesses and he did not make them ever pay him back. And also a black fashion model that Trump dated for several years in the 90s, all out in the open and everything, and she’s quoted as saying that he is not racist, there just aren’t that many people of any color that he actually likes.
I don’t know. I just like to throw everything into the mix and just think about it, about what a dangerous weapon the press can wield on all sides. (Meaning, there doesn’t seem to be any real reasons to think that Trump is “racist.”)
Okay. Well, Nick Cave sent out a Red Hand Files thing today. You can read it here, if you so choose! He was his usual eloquent self. And don’t forget to buy a ticket for the streaming event next Thursday evening, Idiot Prayer: Nick Cave Alone at Alexandra Palace.
I did manage to get off those review copies of The Guitar Hero Goes Home yesterday afternoon. (Going to long-time colleagues who know my work very well, who will be supplying cover blurbs. So it will be interesting to see how they react to/review something that’s so unlike anything I’ve written thus far.)
Still trying to figure out a name for the publishing company, and still trying to figure out if I will eventually want to publish other writers or not. That decision plays a huge role in how I will format the final manuscript and where I want to house the files to publish the POD version of the novel. That last part is a huge consideration that I need to come to a decision about.
(Meaning, if I just want to self-publish, I can go to CreateSpace and publish the novel by later this afternoon! Assuming Valerie had the cover art completed, which she doesn’t. But if I think I’ll want it to be an actual small press, I need to house it somewhere that gives me better access to international markets.)
So, I guess I need to come to a decision…
All righty, then. I guess I’d better get started here. I had another one of my little meltdowns for most of yesterday so I didn’t make any headway on the flash/memoir piece I want to write. I think my meltdown for today is already over, so I hope to just get some good work done today, and then get that treadmill put together this evening!!
I’m also hoping the treadmill will help stave off these many meltdowns I’m having. I don’t want people to feel like they can’t call me, or confide in me, or write to me or need me for something that astounds me. And I also don’t want to have a heart that grows cold & insane and forgets how to love, you know? But when the shit storms come to this house in the middle of nowhere — and they do — it’s always just me alone, now, trying to handle everything without losing my temper or falling to pieces.
Oh, and I want to mention something really weird here. Last night, after the lights were out and I was in bed, thinking I was going to fall asleep, I suddenly, out of the blue, decided to google George Harrison.
I love George Harrison but I know next to nothing about his life. Usually, when I love musicians, I love their music and don’t really need to know anything else. There are a couple of exceptions: That Conversations with Tom Petty book, by Paul Zollo, that came out in 2005, absolutely blew me the fuck away, because Tom Petty was never a man to tell anything personal to the press. So I never really knew anything about him at all. Then that book came out and he was talking about everything under the sun; truly personal stuff as well as his various inspirations behind every single song he ever wrote.
And Keith Richards, of course. Not only because his memoir, Life, from 2010, was astoundingly detailed and wonderful, but because Valerie in Brooklyn used to work for Keith & Patti back when the girls were still really young. And so I know these really personal things about Keith’s life that are delightful but really private.
And then, of course, Nick Cave’s Red Hand Files and then his In Conversations tour, brought a whole lot about his life to light and so now I know that.
But normally, I’m just into the music. So, I googled George Harrison and found out all this stuff about him that I never, ever, ever knew. Stuff that kind of astounded me — because (!!) — as I lay in bed in the dark after reading all that stuff, I was struck by the similarities between him and the character that I randomly named “George” in The Guitar Hero Goes Home.
Long time readers of this lofty blog no doubt recall that, three summers ago now, I suddenly began writing The Guitar Hero Goes Home out of thin air (back then, I thought it was called Blessed By Light). It just started coming to me from out of nowhere when I was sitting at the kitchen table one day, like it was being dictated to me and I was scribbling it down while it came. I have no clue where that novel came from or why I wrote it, and it’s not like anything I’ve ever written before. So this “George” character is just so fucking odd. Not that they are identical twins, or anything, But the number of similarities between the character in the book named “George” and the stuff I never knew about George Harrison and now know — it was just so peculiar.
Okay. On that note, I’m really gonna scoot now. Have a good Thursday, wherever you are in the world. Thanks for visiting. I hope life is being really good to you today. (You know, if God had come to me moments before I was born, and showed me even a general blueprint of my life and how it was going to live, and then said to me, “Are you sure you wanna go through with all this?” I would have said no, and gotten the heck out of that womb…) Anyway. Let’s move on. I love you guys. See ya.