And so it continues…

We’re getting closer to getting this darn novel published, finally.

Although the email that came from Valerie during the night, in response to my email to her regarding the cover design was: “OMG! What are all these words?!?!”

To be fair, though, I had been texting her with many emojis and leaving anxious voice mails, indicating, in a sort of very stressed out way, that I was “having issues” regarding the layout…

However, I’m confident that today, we will get it all figured out!!

And soon — very soon — that novel will finally be published!!

On a similar note, sort of — I heard from M. Christian the other day that one of our publishers was trying to locate me because they had a royalty check for me and had no clue where I was living anymore!

Well, that’s exciting — a royalty check. But it made me wonder how many other publishers have lost track of me? I still get royalty checks at our apartment in NYC, and that has not been my mailing address since 2003. So I was thinking that maybe I ought to do something about updating everybody. One of these days.

Anyway.

Well, as much as I tried to drag my feet on it, I have officially watched the final episode of Endeavour in Season 7. I cannot believe how long it takes to get the new episodes and then it’s over in a heartbeat (3 nights!!) and then you must wait another whole year.

I remember way back in the Dark Ages of my wee bonny girlhood, how different it was! A TV season lasted about 30 weeks, and then went into reruns all summer long, and then in mid-September, shortly after the new school semester had started, the new TV season began!!

OMG, it was so exciting. I couldn’t wait to see the new seasons of I Dream of Jeanie, Bewitched, That Girl; or The Brady Bunch and The Partridge Family  — to see how everyone had changed and grown and what kind of new hairstyles everyone had, and all the new fashions. It was so cool. It was just so exciting. (Okay, I was really little.)

I was so in love with David Cassidy (from The Partridge Family) back then that, when I was 10, it managed to practically ruin one of our family vacations for me.

David Cassidy, 1970s teen idol, has died at 67
David Cassidy — what’s not to love??

David Cassidy was going to be the special guest at Cleveland’s Thanksgiving Parade that year (1970),  kicking off the Christmas season in downtown Cleveland, but my family and I were on a vacation in the Caribbean. In the sunshine.  In a private little villa with its own private swimming pool, only a few steps from a beautiful beach and the Caribbean sea…

St. Thomas Beach Shore Excursion with Sightseeing & Shopping

…and I was heartsick because I couldn’t be in freezing cold, snowy downtown Cleveland, to watch David Cassidy ride in a parade and wave for 3 seconds at a mob of screaming little girls!!

Blizzard in Cleveland Ohio - 1950 - Euclid Avenue | Cleveland ohio ...
Cleveland in Winter

Too funny to think about it now — what I wouldn’t give to be hanging out in a private little villa with my own swimming pool.  Even though I had a good time during the day — the beaches were so beautiful, and it was my first exposure to steel drum music and I thought it was incredible; still, I would literally cry in my bed at night, knowing that I would miss David Cassidy in the parade…

(It was not TV-related, but there was another time when my parents forced me to take a really lovely family trip during summer vacation and it caused me to miss The Osmond Brothers performing live at the Ohio State Fair!! You can easily see that my childhood was tortuous…)

The Osmonds (Everything is Beautiful【Grammy 1971】LIve ...

Okay, well that was an unexpected trip down memory lane…

Yesterday, Nick Cave sent out a Red Hand File that was really good — all about his take on Cancel Culture and the role of mercy in a tolerant society. You can read it at that link there. It  was really well stated, gang.

Well, I gotta get started here! There is so much work still to do on the publication stuff today. I hope you’re having a nice Thursday, wherever you are in this COVID-infused world. Thanks for visiting, gang! I’m going to leave you with a hit song from 1964 that I always loved.  It’s Calypso, but no steel drums, or anything. “Shame and Scandal in the Family” by Shawn Elliott (this is based on a 1943 song, that had different lyrics, but these were the lyrics I grew up on). It’s too fun! So enjoy. I love you guys. See ya!

“Shame and Scandal in the Family”

Woe is me
Shame and scandal in the family
Woe is me
Shame and scandal in the family

In Trinidad there was a family
With much confusion as you will see
It was a mama and a papa and a boy who was grown
He wanted to marry, have a wife of his own
Found a young girl that suited him nice
Went to his papa to ask his advice
His papa said: “Son, I have to say no
This girl is your sister, but your mama don’t know”

Oh, woe is me
Shame and scandal in the family
Oh, woe is me
Shame and scandal in the family

A week went by and the summer came ’round
Soon the best cook in the island he found
He went to his papa to name the day
His papa shook his head and to him did say
“You Can’t marry this girl, I have to say no
This girl is your sister, but your mama don’t know”

Oh, woe is me
Shame and scandal in the family
Oh, woe is me
Shame and scandal in the family

He went to his mama and covered his head
And told his mama what his papa had said
His mama she laughed, she say, “Go man, go
Your daddy ain’t your daddy, but your daddy don’t know.”

Oh, woe is me
Shame and scandal in the family
Oh, woe is me
Shame and scandal in the family

©  1943, 1965 Sir Lancelot; Lord Melody

The Delights of Pre-Publication Continue!!

I spent all day yesterday working on the pre-publication stuff for The Guitar Hero Goes Home and here’s something really interesting that you might want to make note of:

If, two years ago, you thought you were going to write your novel really quickly and then just toss it up on Amazon’s Kindle & Create Space and so you used a manuscript writing template from Amazon that was in Beta-testing mode and then life went on and on and men you loved died and it was horrible and it took a year to finish writing the very short novel and by then you thought you’d send it around to small presses because the responses you were getting to separate chapters of the novel were extremely positive and so, a year later, when not a single small press replied to you, you decided to publish it yourself, as a small press and not necessarily as a Create Space press, and so you went through the process of attempting to format your manuscript as a non-Amazon POD…

And you then  discover that the Amazon Beta-testing template never made it to Alpha and it no longer exists and your manuscript is now locked into that template and you cannot remove it!!!!! Try as you might!!!

And even though it doesn’t look like it’s stuck in that template it actually IS…

And even though you try every way you can think of to try to trick the manuscript into thinking it is in fact no longer stuck in that Beta-testing template, and you run it through the manuscript processing machine, you realize that it has in fact tricked you, AGAIN, and it is still stuck in the template.

And so you stare hard at your computer screen for just a really long time and say things like, “Fuck, this can’t be possible” and “I am not retyping this whole fucking manuscript!” and “Shit, fuck” — stuff like that.

And then Valerie doesn’t return your texts or your calls and you have not only a lot of stuff to relay to her about the cover design, but you also wish to tell someone/anyone how insane this fucking non-removable template is and that you want to shoot yourself and you want someone/anyone to say how bad they feel for you!

(She did eventually text me back, but it was long after I was done fucking with that manuscript for the day.)

Anyway. Round 2. Guess who’s publishing The Guitar Hero Goes Home as a Create Space press? Because the template at least meets the measurements they need for the pages to print correctly.  Funny, right? The best laid plans of mice and men just lead you right the fuck back to where you were when you started writing the novel 2 years ago.

Just amazing.

Okay!! That said — I’m planning on having a really great day today, even though I will be once again spending the entire day trying to get this novel one step closer to publication. We shall see how that goes!! And if it goes poorly, at least Valerie has promised to call mid-afternoon today, so I will have someone to loudly complain to if need be!!

Well, that’s kind of it around here, gang.  My day was rather narrow in scope yesterday. I did watch one more episode of Endeavour, and another episode of Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries, so I was at least in heaven last evening!! (But (heavy sigh) only one episode of Endeavor left. Then a whole year must pass before the next one…)

I hope you have a great Wednesday unfolding for you, wherever you are in the world!! Tropical Fuck Storm dropped a new single last night, “Legal Ghost.” (This is a slightly different version of a song that Gareth Liddiard and Rui Pereira released in the 90s.) I leave you with that today!!  Enjoy! And thanks for visiting. I love you guys. See ya.

“Legal Ghost”

She said come in, wipe your feet
I walked in off the street
Into her room yeah it looked pretty bad
She made me read the report
And after all her contortions
I met her legal ghost, her legal ghost, her legal ghost

They went and burned his body
And then they burned his clothes
Yeah but it doesn’t really matter who you sleep with now, you’ll always sleep alone
So it may as well be me, I got nowhere to be
I’ll probably hang around
Yeah just you, me, us two, and your legal ghost
Your legal ghost

For once the cops ain’t calling for ya
But ya know that kid she can’t stay with ya
And see only thing you’ve got coming is just the spaces that are left by all the things that go
Like your legal ghost, your legal ghost, your legal ghost

It doesn’t really matter who you sleep with now you’re just a legal ghost
It doesn’t really matter who you speak with now you’re just a legal ghost
It doesn’t really matter who you talk to now you’re just a legal ghost
It doesn’t really matter where you walk to now you’re just a legal ghost
A legal ghost
You are a legal ghost

Ah but don’t the walls seem harder now?
Ain’t the corners just a little darker now?
Now your faith has failed you
Even a paper trail
Leads to your legal ghost
Your legal ghost
Your legal ghost
Your legal ghost

It doesn’t really matter who you sleep with now you’re just a legal ghost
It doesn’t really matter who you speak with now you’re just a legal ghost
It doesn’t really matter who you talk to now you’re just a legal ghost
It doesn’t really matter where you walk to now you’re just a legal ghost
A legal ghost, you are a legal ghost

It doesn’t really matter who you sleep with now you’re just a legal ghost
It doesn’t really matter who you speak with now you’re just a legal ghost
It doesn’t really matter who you talk with now you’re just a legal ghost
It doesn’t really matter where you walk to now you’re just a legal ghost
It doesn’t really matter if you hang around you’re just a legal ghost
It doesn’t really matter if you stay in town you’re just a legal ghost
You know I know that you know you are a legal ghost
You are a legal ghost, a legal ghost, a legal ghost

© 2020 Gareth Liddiard

Well, It’s That Kind of Day

My prayers go out to Jimmy Lai, and all of Hong Kong, really. I hope he survives his arrest — lives to see freedom again. I wouldn’t put money on it but I hope I’m wrong.

I hope Chicago survives its utter, all-out insanity.

You know, what goes on in Portland and Seattle — that insanity doesn’t bother me as much, because both Washington and Oregon are States with a long history of progressiveness, Socialism, etc.  That’s their thing. If they want to destroy their streets in the name of Socialism, that’s their thing.

But Illinois is not that type of State and to see the massive looting and rioting and murders and a sort of orgy of crime going on in the name of “progressiveness” is just unbelievably sad to me. If you look up the definitions of the words “progressive” and “crime spree” it will be interesting which definition you think is most suitable for what’s going on now in Chicago. You know, based on the functioning of your own brain and its ability to understand concepts.

And of course the main news outlets that cater to the progressives downplay all the violence, the mass shootings (Chicago — 2,249 people have been shot so far in Chicago this year –and Washington DC, where shootings have spiked 45% this year over last year).

I guess those news outlets want to keep everyone’s focus on de-funding the police, and mass shootings and violent riots would maybe tend to destabilize that goal.

You know, there are areas that can work just fine with a smaller police presence, but America, overall, is just way too violent even in a good year to de-fund the police.

It’s also interesting to note that people I talk to personally — friends still living in NYC — who talk about how violent it has also gotten there now and how they are making plans to move away;  you don’t see that desire for a mass exodus reflected in the news much, do you? They try to make it sound as if this unbelievable resurgence in crime is what the people want…

And the riots in Beirut right now as they try to uproot Hezbollah from their government. It’s interesting that the NY Times is all over that, but if you look at the online news coming out of the Middle East, they are not all over that Hezbollah angle. They put a  whole different spin on it.

It shows you that the media is always up to something. Best to trust your gut and your brain. If something quacks like a duck, it’s a duck.

Okay.

I spent most of this morning not wanting to do what I’d planned to do. I stayed in bed longer than I normally do. I did yoga instead of aerobics. I called my dad at the appointed time, but when he didn’t answer, I just turned off my phone. I don’t feel like talking to people right this minute.

I’m supposed to work with Peitor today on a new script for Abstract Absurdity Productions.  I don’t know if we actually will — I haven’t heard from him yet. I hope we do, but if we don’t, I have a ton of work to do on The Guitar Hero Goes Home (formatting , pre-publication work) because over the next several weeks, I’m going to be a guest on two podcasts, promoting, among other things, my new novel!

It would behoove me to actually have that new novel in the  marketplace by then.

The first podcast is a new show, hosted by Ralph Greco, Jr and M. Christian.

And the other podcast is hosted by  Dr. Amy Marsh and M. Christian.

These are both sex-positive podcasts and if you drop in and listen you will likely be astounded and amazed by the many, many sex-positive topics I have contained here in my brain on any given day.

My trip into town yesterday to buy the groceries was actually quite wonderful because I broke down and bought two different types of indescribably yummy ice cream bars!!! I bought a box of the Magnum minis (nowhere near as high in calories as the real things), and then some organic strawberry ice cream  bars dipped in organic dark chocolate. (Also not very high in calories!)

I can assure you with absolute confidence that both brands are incredibly delicious!!!

And you know how I get about ice cream when the world is stressing me out — nothing works better at calming me down.

You know, we don’t have crime here in Crazeysburg. I am absolutely quite serious about that. Crime here is negligible. And we have a very small police force — but it does contain one white woman, one African American man, and two white men.  We are, like, the perfect village in the middle of nowhere. We don’t even really have the virus here, either. One thing we are, though, is one giant speed trap. You can either go 25 mph, or 35 mph. That’s it. And it would behoove you to pay close attention to those speed limits if you ever decide to come visit me because they will get you. That’s how City Hall makes it’s money since there’s no real crime…

And it gets harder and harder to want to leave Crazeysburg.  It really does.  It’s actually not so crazy here.

Okay. Well, I’m gonna get started here. I’m way behind schedule. I hope you have a terrific Tuesday, wherever you are in the world.  I’m still listening to Dylan’s 2009 album, Together Through Life. Today I’m leaving you with this somewhat timely song, “Beyond Here Lies Nothin'”. This is the official video, which is really violent, but it’s the visual statement Dylan wanted to make. And it is a good song. Okay, make it a good day for yourself, okay? I love you guys. See ya.

“Beyond Here Lies Nothin'”

Oh well, I love you pretty baby
You’re the only love I’ve ever known
Just as long as you stay with me
The whole world is my throne
Beyond here lies nothin’
Nothin’ we can call our own

Well, I’m movin’ after midnight
Down boulevards of broken cars
Don’t know what I’d do without it
Without this love that we call ours
Beyond here lies nothin’
Nothin’ but the moon and stars

Down every street there’s a window
And every window’s made of glass
We’ll keep on lovin’ pretty baby
For as long as love will last
Beyond here lies nothin’
But the mountains of the past

Well, my ship is in the harbor
And the sails are spread
Listen to me, pretty baby
Lay your hand upon my head
Beyond here lies nothin’
Nothin’ done and nothin’ said

© 2009 Bob Dylan, Robert Hunter

Really Gotta Scoot, Gang!!

It is already super, super, SUPER sunny here today, and it’s going to be very hot. So I want to get an early start into town to get the groceries.

I don’t want to complain, though, because the rest of the week is supposed to be overcast and full of thunderstorms. Of course the crops need the rain. But anyway. I’m going to try to make the best out of the sun today, but stay out of it as much as I can.

Last night’s episode of Endeavor was definitely worth waiting one year for. (I noticed in the opening credits last night that it’s actually spelled the British way: Endeavour. Only took me 7 years to notice this.)

I’m not crazy about watching it on the flat screen TV with the firestick 4, though, because it is so intensely HD that it has that “live” look to it — the “film” quality is completely gone. I actually wound up switching halfway through it, and going back to watching it on the iPad.

But everything else looks okay on the firestick 4, although it still seems so weird to have the TV in the kitchen.  I was watching a special about Viking Warrior Women last evening and suddenly noticed that I actually had both my legs — bare feet included — up on the kitchen table  while I was leaning back in my chair (!!!). Jesus. That’s a little too bohemian for me…

Anyway. Where to put the TV is the worst of my troubles right now.

Today is “reading other writers’ works” day! So I’ll be back in the Netherlands (mentally), reading Whatever Comes My Way: Travels in the Netherlands, by Roger Gaess. Today, I’m going to find out about Zwolle, Eindhoven, Venlo, and Maastricht! (I don’t know if I’m going to find out how to pronounce the names of those cities, but I feel certain that we’re going to find out where all the bars are!!)

Yesterday was a bit of a washout.  I wrote nothing new on Thug Luckless: Welcome to P-Town. I simply could not get the brain to function properly — it just kept drifting away from me (see yesterday’s post re: how the morning started out). That stuff kind of depresses me when it happens, but oh well. The week’s over. On Friday, I can get back to work on Thug Luckless.

By late yesterday afternoon, I finally gave up on trying to write. So I streamed some things on  the TV, waiting for the magical hour of 9pm, when Endeavour came on. I watched the above-mentioned Viking Warrior Women thing (fascinating, actually), and then another great episode of Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries. And then I also watched Napoleon Dynamite.

I had never seen that movie. It was a huge hit among teenagers back when it came out, but I was 44 when it came out! Anyway, I know that now it’s sort of culturally iconic so I wanted to finally watch it. I really enjoyed it. It was a very sweet & touching film, overall. And I did laugh out loud at a lot of it.

I took a walk over to the cemetery, too. Not to look at the graves, so much, as to see the panorama of cornfields.  The cornfields are everywhere around here, and the corn is really tall now. It’s so pretty to look at it. For as far as the eye can see now, the valleys are filled with rows and rows of corn, and then the valleys are surrounded by green hills, covered in trees. Just really pretty to look at. Helps me forget all the COVID nonsense.

Meanwhile, more wonderful developments re: Tell My Bones. I’ll keep you updated when I can start blogging about it. I’m super excited by the potential prospects.

Okay, that’s it today, gang. I’m going to head into town now. Have a great Monday, wherever you are in the world!! Thanks for visiting. I leave you with my listening music from this morning — Bob Dylan, “It’s All Good,” from his Together Through Life album (2009). (Below is a live version, the only version I could find, but it’s all good!!!) All righty! Enjoy. I love you guys. See ya!

“It’s All Good”

Talk about me babe, if you must.
Throw out the dirt; pile on the dust.
I’d do the same thing if I could
You know what they say? They say it’s all good.
All good.
It’s all good.

Big politician telling lies;
Restaurant kitchen all full of flies.
Don’t make a bit of difference; don’t see why it should.
But it’s alright, cause its all good.
Its all good.
Its all good.

Wives are leavin’ their husbands; they’re beginning to roam.
They leave the party and they never get home.
I wouldn’t change it even if I could
You know what they say, man, it’s all good.
It’s all good.
All good.

Brick by brick, they tear you down.
A teacup of water is enough to drown.
You oughta know, if they could, they would
Whatever goin’ down, it’s all good.

All good.
Said it’s all good.

People in the country, People on the land.
Some of them so sick they can hardly stand.
Everybody would move away if they could
Its hard to believe but its all good.
Yeah…

Well widows cry; the orphans plea.
Everywhere you look there’s more misery.
Come along with me babe, I wish you would.
You know what I’m sayin’, it’s all good.

All good.
I said it’s all good.
All good.

Cold blooded killer stomp into town
Cop car’s blinkin’, something bad goin’ down.
Buildings are crumblin, in the neighborhood.
But there’s nothing to worry about, cause it’s all good.
It’s all good.
I say it’s all good.

Gonna whistle and blow it in your face.
This time tomorrow I’ll be rollin’ in your place.
I wouldn’t change a thing even if I could.
You know what they say?
They say it’s all good.
It’s all good.
It’s all good.

© 2009 Bob Dylan

A Whacked-Out Sunday is Certainly Underway in Crazeysburg!

Just one of those days, gang.

I did not want to get out of bed (eventually, though, I did).

I did NOT (capital letters there) want to get on the treadmill this morning, but after sitting on the edge of my bed and staring at stuff for almost 2 hours, I finally forced myself to go downstairs and get on the fucking treadmill.

Then I showered. Washed my hair. I have all the earmarks of someone who’s actually doing stuff here this morning, but I am struggling to make that happen.

Mostly, I know how depressed I can get if I avoid doing stuff, so I try to just make it happen. Plus, I’ve lost 7 pounds now. 5 more pounds and I’m back to pre-COVID weight. So I don’t want to lose sight of that.

Well, that documentary on Creem Magazine (Creem: America’s Only  Rock & Roll Magazine), was really good.  I can’t emphasize enough how that magazine shaped my perception of myself and music and New York City in the 1970s, and had a lot to do with me moving to NYC in 1980 (rather than to Nashville, which was where a lot of people said I should have moved).

It was really cool to see the interviews with some of the musicians who were around my age, who were also just as influenced by Creem. It was quite a magazine, there was just nothing like it.

The documentary is mostly about the people who started it and how & why it got started, and the personalities involved (many of the writers there became quite well known). Lots of 1970s-excesses, though, which lead, sadly to suicides and accidental deaths by overdose.

Plus, the zine was so indescribably politically incorrect that by today’s standards, people now would start twitter-storms and social media hate bombs. All that nonsense. There was never a racial problem with Creem — because back then, the music from the black communities and the white communities usually mixed. But the writers at Creem were often insensitive to absolutely everyone’s feelings — expecting the people they wrote about to stand up for themselves (they did!). And they were also writing simply to provoke and to get readers worked up and involved.

The magazine was actually really fun. And fucking funny. (For the reader, anyway.) I definitely enjoyed watching the documnetary and taking that trip down memory lane, where people weren’t so intensely hung up on stuff (politics).

Plus, I miss rock & roll. Which is just basically dead now.

Creem magazine's wild misfit days of sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll

All righty. Good news continues to develop regarding Tell My Bones, but I still can’t blog about it. But it’s certainly helping me feel like there is something on the horizon besides more and more COVID and more and more shouting about politics.

I’m hoping to just focus on Thug Luckless: Welcome to P-Town today, but then tonight!!! Season 7 of Endeavor begins on PBS!!!!! And I, for one, cannot wait!!

Amazon.com: Watch Masterpiece: Endeavour, Season One | Prime Video

Well, I think that’s about it for today, gang.  I hope you have a terrific Sunday, wherever you are in this wonderful world.  Thanks for visiting. I leave you with the Everly Brothers this morning! I am currently listening to their Greatest Hits during the wee small hours of dawn. And this is certainly one of them: “Love Hurts.” (If you’re too young to know who the Everly Brothers were, they were actual brothers from Kentucky who sang and harmonized together like angels.) (Egos eventually got too big and they split up, but before that happened, they had tons of huge hits.) Okay, well, enjoy! I love you guys. See ya.

Yay for Difficult Women!!

Good morning, gang. What a lovely Saturday it is here in Crazeysburg.

I’m finishing the laundry right now and beyond that, I have nothing on my plate today but working on Thug Luckless: Welcome to P-Town, so what could be nicer?

And this evening, I’m streaming the new documentary film Creem: America’s Only Rock ‘N Roll Magazine (!!!).

Creem was my absolute most favorite magazine of all time, and when I was a teenager, I looked forward to every single issue with every fiber of my being, because to me, it was my only connection to the outside world — to what I considered the “real” world. (And I believe, even all these decades later, that I was right.)  Stream the movie here. Here’s the trailer:

On a similar note… Yesterday’s issue of Please Kill Me had a great interview with Angela Bowie Barnett (aka Angie Bowie) by Lucretia Tye Jasmine. (Hence the title of today’s post.) If you are not old enough to remember David Bowie’s career, a point came when he was extremely famous and Angie left him, and then the PR machines and Bowie’s management, etc., did their best to silence her, discredit her, de-materialize her, and just plain disappear her.

I honestly believe that David Bowie would never have figured out how to become “David Bowie” if it weren’t for Angie.  In the beginning, she was his manager. They created everything about his onstage persona together. Working really, really hard to come up with a version of “David Bowie” that could actually sell records. (It took years to accomplish that, btw.)

And now that Bowie is completely and thoroughly, 100% dead, people are more interested in what she has to say about the past.

My favorite exchange from the interview:

Responding to my question, “Was David the love of your life?” Angie says, “Excuse me?”

I repeat the question, falteringly. “Good God, no!” We laugh. “I had a headache with David, I really did. And it wasn’t anything to do with him. It was to do with the people stealing the business from me…I was furious.”

But managing someone’s career is tedious. “They’re totally and utterly egocentric. Not at all interested in anyone else on the planet. Dealing with them becomes tedious after ten years.”

Their breakup didn’t feel like a betrayal.

“I was dying to get out.” David’s drug addiction made him the best liar. “I just couldn’t stand it. It was nauseating. It made me sick. So I just wanted to get it over with and be gone.”

“At a certain stage, you just stop. You’ve realized…it’s enough now. And you want to move on.”  — Lucretia Tye Jasmine, PleaseKillMe.com

And here is the accompanying photo!! Angie, Iggy , Lou Reed with Creem magazine!! Photo by the great Lee Black Childers.

I was a huge fan of Bowie’s from 1973 onward. I really was. But he was always a shifting “persona.”  A carefully crafted character. He was  never just himself in public, in the world. Ever. I had no feel for who he really was as a human being, and when he died, I didn’t miss him at all. Because I never felt “who he really was”. He was sort of just a big PR machine that made music I usually really liked.

Well, the music lives on and I still like it, but I have no real idea who the man was and, actually, at this point, I don’t really care.

Unlike people like Lou Reed and Iggy Pop, Keith Richards, Ronnie Wood, Tom Petty, even Elvis — those guys wore their whole hearts & lives right out in the open, all over themselves; whether or not it got really messy. They weren’t just trying to sell records and concert tickets. They were (are) human beings.

Okay. So!

Yesterday, FIRE (the Foundation for Individual Rights in Education) sent out a press release that just made me completely insane (you can read it here), about a student at Stockton University in New Jersey who is facing a fine and suspension because he had a photo of President Trump as his background on a zoom conference and other students  felt “offended, disrespected, and taunted.”

It is absolutely unbelievable how intolerant and fearful so many young liberal Americans are now when people have points of view that differ from theirs. The spinelessness is just unreal.

“In my day” — we were all just thrown to the wolves and you had to figure out how to survive. No matter your race, religious beliefs, sexual preferences, etc. We were all just sent to school and we had to figure out to survive it, you know?

Trump is the fucking President, whether you like that or not. He got elected through the electoral college. It was legal. He got elected. He’s the President. Fucking deal with it. A reminder to just go out and fucking vote during an election year. Jesus.

And though it would be legal, it’s not “threatening” like using Hitler, or Goering and Goebbels and Himmler, with tons of swastikas as your zoom background. (Although I am wont to put American Leftist students onto a dangerous path that leads to men like them.)

This absolutely terrified way of non-thinking is truly prevalent, gang. It’s in universities all over the country and it’s been going on for a lot of years already — but it is getting worse. And it’s not just students, it extends to faculty members, too. (Even tenured professors are getting death threats, and online hate campaigns, and threatened with disciplinary actions for the opinions they hold.) (You might recall the director of my play, Tell My Bones, was told to take down one of Helen LaFrance’s paintings as his zoom background because his (white) colleagues accused him of behaving like a white plantation master with a bunch of slaves. And it made them “uncomfortable.” Fucking ART makes them uncomfortable — and he’s so fucking liberal; it’s ludicrous. ) (I can’t even really tell you how furious that made me. There aren’t even enough words, really.)

It really is just out of control. I got so fed up yesterday, that I wrote a letter to the Dean of Stockton University.

And I guess, as long as we have a Constitution in place here,  I’ll just keep writing letters now. Sometimes it actually helps, gang, when people think the world is watching them. (I used to write tons of letters for Amnesty International, for people in various countries who were wrongfully imprisoned — and the letters worked.  The people were freed. From fucking prisons in awful places.)

The Constitution means everything to me.  It kept me out of prison when John Ashcroft and the President George W. Bush crew were trying to round up Internet-based pornographers all over America and get them into federal prisons. It was fucking scary.

But that same Constitution covers everybody’s rights to free expression in America — even for Republicans and various conservatives, who perhaps would have preferred that I had gone to prison. It doesn’t matter what side of the fence you’re on. You have your right to express what you believe.

All righty!! I’m going to get on with this wonderful day and go work some more on Thug Luckless: Welcome to P-Town. (My Constitutional right to free expression in action, all day long!!!)

Last night, I was listening to e e cummings read some of his poetry on YouTube. So I’ll leave you with a little of that today. It’s old, of course, and not the clearest sound quality, but it’s still pretty cool to listen to his actual voice. So, hope you enjoy. Thanks for visiting, gang. I love you guys. See ya!

Here Comes A Really Beautiful Day!!

Happy Friday, everybody.

If you  are still sort of in lockdown mode (as am I), it probably feels like Saturday or Tuesday or maybe even Wednesday…

When I woke up this morning, it did not feel like Friday. It felt like Tuesday, and I felt a little crestfallen that it was already Friday. Where is August racing off to??

And I went down to the kitchen. It was still dark out, because it’s that time of the summer where things have definitely changed. It stays dark out just a little longer now. And the birds don’t start singing until about 6am — and there are maybe 3 of them, now, instead of 3000. So it’s just crickets now, during my entire breakfast.

But I stood at the kitchen sink, where I have a really great window. It’s really wide and tall. A great view. And I stared out at the dark yard and up at the sky, and I thought of that August 2 years ago, when the man was still alive and we were in the absolute thick of falling in love — which included some arguing, too, because I didn’t know how to be loved and so my constant insecurity kind of made him very frustrated.

Anyway, in my head this morning, I was talking to him and I said: Remember that August? When time stood still? And we didn’t even realize the summer was racing away?

And then after the cats were fed, and I was fed, and the many little dishes were washed, and I sat down again at the kitchen table to write in my Inner Being journals — he came through. Just like that. His words were in my head and they came out onto the page. He said hello, and that he loved me and that he did remember that August, and that he hadn’t wanted it to ever be over, but that we have evolved now (meaning both of us) and that nothing ever really ends. That’s what he “said” !

So, that made me super happy, gang. That man changed my life. My whole entire life. (If you’re new to the blog, he came into my life suddenly in July 2018, and died a handful of weeks later, in late September of 2018.) (He changed my life because he loved me, and he was actually the first person ever that I felt really loved me. Except for my grandma, but she loved me in a different way.  She loved me in a “grandma” way, and this man loved me in every other way.)

And once I finally believed that he loved me (after a few really intense shouting matches, that’s for sure) my whole life changed.

Well, anyway. This is a magical house. And my kitchen is a magical place. Oh — my Amazon firestick 4 arrived yesterday, and the AC power cord to actually finally plug the TV into the wall (!!), and the only place I could find to put it for now is in my kitchen.

It seems crazy to have it in the kitchen, but there it sits, all plugged in. And I moved the hardwired speakers for the iPad up to my bedroom, where I keep my iPad at night. So now I have my iPad with great speakers — instead of the Bluetooth speaker that only lasts one hour — crowded onto my night table.

It just feels weird. But here is a photo I took last evening to send to Valerie (she’s the culprit friend who persuaded me to buy the firestick 4 because it was on sale). I’m watching Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries here:

(oh — and I can get the PBS Passport app on the firestick so I’ll be watching Endeavor on the TV this year instead of on the iPad!! It starts Sunday!!)

This morning, while I was lying in bed (feeling like it was Tuesday), I started thinking about Endeavor and how this would now be Season 7. And I recalled so well when that show first started. It was 3 houses ago. I had something like 3 TVs back then — including a much larger flat screen TV in the bedroom. And I had cable  service, and premium channels, like HBO, Starz,  Showtime, Cinemax, etc. (And on my iPad, I had Hulu, Netflix, Amazon Prime.)

And down in the family room, I had a really big digital TV that was hooked up with the DVD player, and it had the DVR box, and all that.

And a free-standing bar was in the family room, complete with top shelf liquor and all my bar ware. And wall-to-wall, built-in bookshelves. And art on the walls, and framed photos of friends and family set out on the end tables, etc.

Just like how most regular people live.

And then everything really changed. Not in a good way, but I won’t go back into that. And I got fed up with drinking and with watching television. And little by little, I got rid of everything but the iPad, the DVD player, and Amazon Prime.

So having a TV in my kitchen now does not really sit well with me, but it’s okay. And it has a really good picture.

On a totally different topic. here is the Cave Things item (see yesterday’s post re: Nick Cave’s new merchandise page) I  want most (a silk screen thingie), but I can’t afford it so I’ve started a Kickstarter campaign so that you guys can help me buy it!! (I am totally kidding about that.)

I have to say,

Abstract Absurdity Productions is getting every spare dime out of me right now. Which reminds me, I took that webinar yesterday on equity financing versus debt financing for film funding, etc., and my brain did indeed explode by the end of the class. It was presented by 3 entertainment lawyers in LA, and it was an intense amount of information in just under 2 hours. Most of the basic liability information I had already gotten from my accountant, but there was still other stuff that just — well, it’s a lot to cram into this wee bonny brain of mine.

It’s not all that different from when I was running multi-media production companies 20 years ago, but this is on a much larger scale.

Anyway. Every spare fucking penny is allocated right now.

Hey. Look at this! I found this on an external hard drive while trying to find some Word files for the new Muse Revisited Volume 4 collection. It’s the house we had in Cleveland from 1966 until July 1971 — just weeks before my 11th birthday.

Our house in Cleveland 1966 -1971

My bedroom was the window at the top left, behind that tree.  It was a truly wonderful house. It really was.  It had a big back porch off the kitchen, that had a big wooden swing hanging from the ceiling of the porch. And up above it, running most of the length of the back of the house, was a sun porch. There were 2 fireplaces in the house. And a den that had built-in bookcases on 3 of the 4 walls and a  built-in desk. And the whole house had plenty of windows. We didn’t have central AC yet, but it was a really wonderful, breezy house.

Unfortunately, this is the house where my adoptive mother really started to unravel, so I have a lot of intense & terrifying memories from this house, as well. I also had my first orgasm here (I was 7), and I got my first period in this house — and I was so angry, because I was only 10 (almost 11) when that happened.  And so none of my girlfriends were anywhere close to getting their periods yet. I hated that.

I was not a big fan of menstruation, in general, gang.  And wasn’t sad to see it go at age 46. Although I was devastated to know for sure that I was never going to have children, other than that, I didn’t mind menopause coming so early.

Anyway. Beyond that lovely stuff — I loved that house and I loved my bedroom and I loved my little desk and I loved my big bed and I loved my record player and all my records and I loved the late 1960s. (That’s the house we lived in that summer they walked on the moon. And that’s the house we lived in when my dad was still kind of “around” and not a millionaire yet  and was still really nice and we watched “Star Trek” together on the TV in the living room and I remember that it scared me! I watch that old TV show now and find it so funny that it used to scare me. Anyway. I got my first pair of fishnet tights there, and my first mini skirts. My first maxi-skirts.  I lived there when I first learned French and Hebrew and learned how to ice skate and roller skate, and when I took dancing lessons and had tap shoes and ballet slippers. And I lived there when I learned how to read music and to play violin, piano, and guitar. How to ride a bike. I lived there when I fell in love with the Beatles, and with David Cassidy, and the Monkees TV show. And I lived there of course when MLK and RFK were assassinated, and George Wallace was gunned down, and when Johnny Cash had his TV show and the Everly Brothers, and the Smothers Brothers, and the Beach Boys all had TV shows. And I lived there when “Hair” was a huge scandalous hit on Broadway. And I lived there when “Laugh-In” was a huge scandalous hit on TV. And I lived there when the Beatles broke up. And when our dog got epilepsy and had to be put to sleep and I was heartbroken. And I lived there when “In the Heat of the Night” was a huge hit movie and we saw it at my dad’s drive-in theater and there was a naked woman in the movie and my little jaw fell open!!  And I lived there when I started to fall in love with girls, and my little friends told me that it was a really weird thing to do. And when I lived there, every night after dinner, on the news Walter Cronkite would tell us how many US soldiers had been killed in Vietnam that day.  It was quite a house. When my parents bought it, it cost something like $35K. The last time it sold, a few years ago, it went for something like $550K. Inflation is really just insane. Anyway. There was a lot to love about my childhood.)

All righty. I’m gonna get going here. It is Thug Luckless: Welcome to P-Town day so I am very excited to see what new stuff hits the page for the new novel.

Thanks for visiting. Enjoy what’s left of your Friday, wherever you are in the world. I leave you with another song from Lou Bega’s A Little Bit of Mambo album (1999). This time, it’s “Can I Tico Tico You” (“Tico” is a general term of endearment used by people who live in Costa Rica.) Enjoy, gang. I love you guys. See ya!

“Can I Tico Tico You”

Baby you’re my freak once in a week
we gettin’ kind of deep in my ’86 jeep
I don’t play no tricks you know the bomb ticks
the only style I play is my self-made hits
and it kicks like that yo’ it really does
was it number one hell yo’ it really was
I got the swing the king is back in the ring
ladies throw their bras when I start to sing

[Chorus:]
Can I rock it can I knock it
can I lick it can I kick it can I top it
you make me hazy you make me crazy
and baby I don’t know what I can do

We can start somethin’ fantastic that you never knew
forget you live in plastic when I keep my eyes on you
I can’t cool down because it’s gettin’ too hot
so please baby please baby never let us stop
and it kicks like that yo’ it really does
was it number one hell yo’ it really was
I got the swing the king is back in the ring
ladies throw their bras when I start to sing

[Chorus]

© 1999 Lou Bega

Another Productive Day in the Hinterlands!

Yesterday was, I mean.

But first!! The Tom Petty website released another song yesterday that will be in the upcoming Wildflowers PT. 2 boxed set. It is called “There Goes Angela” and it was just lovely, gang! An acoustic home demo. I really loved it. I cannot find a link anymore to how you can listen to it (they had it posted yesterday). But it was one of those true Tom Petty awesome acoustic songs where he empowers the woman alone in the world, as he usually did in his songs.

Also, Nick Cave’s website revealed Cave Things today!! A place where you can buy sort of extremely expensive things that Nick Cave has designed or curated in some way. The items are really cool. Some of them are “coming soon,” but the descriptions are already there. Everything is pretty much on the pricey side. For instance, a really nice guitar pick with Warren Ellis’s picture on it, which in US dollars cost about $4, before shipping. So that’s sort of a pricey guitar pick that, you know, if I bought it I would be afraid to use, because I wouldn’t want to damage it, or anything.

Still, the stuff is really cool, but being the somewhat lowly scribe that I am, I cannot afford any of the items I actually really want. But check them out anyway, because if you are not a writer, then you can probably afford everything!!

So. Yesterday.

I spent the entire day working on the re-edits of The Muse Revisited collection and came to the decision that the “new” revised edition will only be one book, and only available in trade paper, POD (Print On Demand).

My decision came about because of the page count.

It turns out Volume 1 has a really small page count, so it doesn’t really make sense to offer it separately in trade paper, even though the page count works fine for an eBook.

Then Volume 2 has a really high page count. And volume 3 has a kind of average page count.

But if I put it all together in one book — all 3 volumes, together — it becomes way too expensive for Print On Demand.  So then I thought, what if I pull some of the stories, to ease up on the page count, put it out as one new collection…

…but then I couldn’t offer it as an eBook because it would potentially cannibalize any sales of the tons of eBooks I already have in the marketplace, published by myself and other more traditional publishers who wouldn’t appreciate that at all.

So then I finally came up with the idea to put it out under one cover, but only as POD trade paper.

So I pulled the erotic memoir, the erotic fantasy stories, and the erotic romance stories from the (new) 4th volume. It’s only traditional erotic fiction. But then I’m adding some stories that were not included in volumes 1-3. And now the collection covers 1994-2012, and as of right now, has 25 previously published erotic fiction stories in it.

Plus! I finally found a copy of that publishing history that SomethingDark.eu had published in 2012, and so that will be included in the back of the book, and it lists my publications, honors and awards from 1990 to 2012, and also includes a list of all the reviews I wrote of erotic fiction and nonfiction books for various magazines and websites back in the early 2000’s. But it doesn’t include the erotic art shows I curated in NYC, or any of the multi-media work I produced, which was just a hugely massive amount of work (1997-2006).

But I thought it would make for an interesting book. Again, everything in it is previously published and will really only be for people who prefer books over eBooks.

The title is: The Muse Revisited, Volume 4: The Selected Erotic Fiction of Marilyn Jaye Lewis, 1994-2012. And the cover art is going to be black & white and feature this photo below in some way, that Valerie took of me at Coney Island in 1995, just prior to my 35th birthday.

June 1995 Coney Island, Brooklyn NY

I don’t know — you can sort of tell by the expression on my face that we probably weren’t up to any good.  Holly Lane was there that day, too, because the Mermaid Parade was going on that day. And if you were ever at a Mermaid Parade at Coney Island in the old days — nothing respectable at all was ever going on. And it was a blast.

Okay, so I started a new publishing company, Marilyn’s Room Books, and it will be at marilynsroombooks.com — although nothing is there yet. I don’t know if I’ll just keep it as a vanity press or publish other writers down the road, but here’s the logo, in case you’re interested:

And here, for your reading pleasure, is one story from Volume 4, that does not appear in the other volumes.  It is not what I would call “erotic,” necessarily — it’s more about erotic cannibalism.  It is microfiction (less than 300 words), and it appeared in Dirty: Dirty: An Illustrated Anthology of Dirty Writing published by Jaded Ibis Press, 2013, and was written expressly for them.

(And with that, I’m gonna leave you, gang!! I gotta get ready for Abstract Absurdity Productions work here today! Thanks for visiting, though. I love you guys. See ya!)

**************************************************

“We Warned Her”
© 2012 Marilyn Jaye Lewis

It was autumn, so we slung her over the split-rails to dry in the crisper breezes, knowing the smoky air would trap the piquant flavor of her and keep it that way all through the winter. Sweet meat where there were once tight curls of flaming red hairs; those lips hairless now, smooth and cool. The throbbing, over. The tender folds salted and the blood drained. In spring, she was succulent to the eye – engorged, even, to the point where she’d driven us mad. We’d warned her: “From here, we can see your thigh!” She’d laughed at us – her mirth like tinkling bells strung through plum blossoms that are caught on the gentle wind of an April rain. We could hardly fault her for it – that blithe laugh. She’d seemed as intoxicated by spring as the dewy hyacinth blossoms, or as the swollen buds of the old roses that had not yet burst with their sultry fragrance of sin. She’d refused to believe us, yet here was her proof: gone now, from the waist up. Splitter-splatter went the shards of bone in blood. “Straighten your skirts,” we’d urged her. “Don’t sit that way – we’re going balmy!” Lewdly was how she sat, legs splayed down in the grass, those flowery dresses with their many underskirts of lace raised too high. Until it was plain that she’d worn nothing under those lacy skirts; that the fleshy folds beneath the tight red curls were swollen and wet with something salty-sweet. In the summer, she was even worse.  (“I want to devour you,” I’d whispered once, my fingers plunging up into her while I lost control of my very breath. I licked them then – my fingers – and madly kissed the side of her damp face.)

© 2012 Marilyn Jaye Lewis

It’s All About Me Today!!

That’s not actually me pictured up there, but some of the good news is that I did finally lose 5 pounds! So I almost look like her —  just need to lose about 40 years and get all my natural brunette hair back!!

However.

Yes, it is Wednesday!! Which is all about me — doing the re-edits on all the various eBooks of which I’m going to publish POD trade paper options soon.

And I’ll be talking with Valerie later re: book cover designs — and then probably talk about a lot of other stuff — for instance, they got slammed with that near-hurricane level tropical storm yesterday. (New York City is just really the happening place to be right now, isn’t it?) We were texting back & forth anxiously yesterday, while tree limbs were snapping off and flying everywhere. And her poor dog was having an anxious nervous breakdown.

But I, personally, am expecting a really easy, low-stress kind of day. It feels like a while since I’ve had one of those. Yesterday, specifically, was really intense.  Abstract Absurdity Productions days (Tuesdays & Thursdays) are just getting really intense, in general. But on we go, right?

Today is also the day of the week that I do more research on potential topics for “sex-positive” articles. It is such an interesting world out there, people –as you probably already know. For some reason, though, the topics that appeal to me most tend to be about the continuing trend towards what I would loosely call “alienation” but I think it’s actually much more complex than that. More and more people living more of their sexual lives up in their minds — but also maybe including partners that are doing the same thing.

I just find it all so interesting.

And the weather today is just amazing — really sunny but really cool.  The high is only expected to be 78 degrees Fahrenheit today, which is, you know, just perfect.

Okay. Sorry this is short, but I wanted to get started early here.

For some unknown reason, I awoke singing “St. Elmo’s Fire,” at 4am this morning. (The titular song from that extremely popular movie from 1985 — one of those movies that had an ensemble cast of young American actors who all went on to become really famous in the 1990s.)

If you’re curious about what St. Elmo’s Fire actually is (the phenomenon, not the movie), here is a short YouTube video that explains it, but I couldn’t find any actual footage of St. Elmo’s Fire occurring at sea (although, I confess, I didn’t look really, really hard!).

And as for the movie of the same name — I have to confess, I actually enjoyed it but I didn’t watch it until decades after it was a cultural hit. Because in 1985, I only went to see “cool” movies — not hugely popular ones! (Okay, except for PeeWee’s Big Adventure!! Man, I loved that movie!! I know the entire movie by heart. I do not jest about that, either. This movie made me laugh so fucking hard. I went to see it several times in the movie theater, and then bought it on VHS when the home video finally came out.)

All righty. I’m gonna scoot. Thanks for visiting, gang. I hope your Wednesday is really nice, wherever you are in the world today!! Enjoy the “St. Elmo’s Fire” serenade!! I love you guys. See ya!

“St. Elmo’s Fire (Man In Motion)”

Growin’ up
You don’t see the writing on the wall
Passin’ by
Movin’ straight ahead, you knew it all

But maybe sometime if you feel the pain
You’ll find you’re all alone
Everything has changed

Play the game
You know you can’t quit until it’s won
Soldier on
Only you can do what must be done

You know in some way
You’re a lot like me
You’re just a prisoner
And you’re tryin’ to break free

I can see a new horizon
Underneath the blazin’ sky
I’ll be where the eagle’s flyin’
Higher and higher

Gonna be your man in motion
All I need’s this pair of wheels
Take me where the future’s lyin’
St. Elmo’s Fire, ooh

Burnin’ up
Don’t know just how far that I can go (Just how far I go)
Soon be home
Only just a few miles down the road

I can make it
I know I can
You broke the boy in me
But you won’t break the man

I can see a new horizon
Underneath the blazin’ sky
I’ll be where the eagle’s flyin’
Higher and higher

Gonna be your man in motion
All I need’s this pair of wheels
Take me where my future’s lyin’
St. Elmo’s Fire

I can climb the highest mountain
Cross the wildest sea
I can feel St. Elmo’s Fire
Burnin’ in me, burnin’ in me

Just once in his life
A man has his time
And my time is now
I’m comin’ alive

I can hear the music playin’
I can see the banners fly
Feel like your man again
And hope ridin’ high

Gonna be your man in motion
All I need’s this pair of wheels
Take me where my future’s lyin’
St. Elmo’s Fire

I can see a new horizon
Underneath the blazin’ sky
I’ll be where the eagle’s flyin’
Higher and higher

Gonna be your man in motion
All I need’s this pair of wheels
Take me where the future’s lyin’
St. Elmo’s Fire

I can climb the highest mountain
Cross the wildest sea
I can feel St. Elmo’s Fire burnin’ in me

Burnin’
Burnin’ in me
I can feel it burnin’
Ooh, burnin’ inside of me

© 1985 John Parr, David Foster

A Strange Tummy Kind of Morning!

I’m still planning to do a ton of Abstract Absurdity Productions work today with Peitor, but my tummy is behaving weirdly. Like it can’t make up its mind if it wants to be sick.

Last night, lights out.  I sat on the edge of my bed in my freshly laundered cotton summer PJs, wondering if I wanted to stream a lecture on Christian Antiquities, or play some more Einstürzende Neubauten, or maybe just listen to the sound of the crickets filling the night and stare out my window at the dark.

And then, suddenly —whoops!— my tummy decided, out of the blue, as it were, to shoot a bunch of weird acid-y stuff right up into my mouth.

Just suddenly. Just like that. No warning or anything. Ich!!

Thank you very much, tummy.

It startled the heck out of me. It’s never done that before.

And from then on, everything felt just a little bit off. And even though I could still eat my breakfast today, and I did the treadmill, and even though I sort of seem just fine, I still just feel a little off.

It could of course just be anxiety. I’m really good at finding new and unusual ways to express that. Free-floating anxiety.

There’s a ton of Ab Ab Pro stuff to do (mostly for me to do, not necessarily for Peitor to do) (including another webinar I need to take on Thursday — this one on equity investment and debt financing and it comes with a guarantee that by the end of the 2nd hour, my head will explode or I get my money back).  But even though there is so much work still to do, today we are starting a new script, because we want 3 of our micro-micro shorts ready to shoot as soon as it’s feasible to do that (either out in LA or in the cinematographer’s studio down in Alabama, depending on the cost estimates we get, etc.).

So there’s just this growing feeling that nothing will ever get done because there’s too much to do. And I’m also waiting to hear back from the director of my play with any word re: the potential staged reading of my play (on zoom). Something that will potentially make me happier than you can possibly imagine, but would also require my near-total attention for a while.

And then an email arrived at dawn from the accountant to follow up on everything regarding our 723 million LLC set-ups for Ab Ab Pro, and something the accountant said in the email brought to my attention that I might have misunderstood something during our phone  call  on Thursday and that I might have misspent some of Peitor’s money and, if so, I will have to pay him back today. And I thought — anxiety circling ever closer — please don’t tell me I have to absorb that cost right now. Crap.

And then I found my imagination doing that thing it does when it wants to just bail on me — I started thinking about the factory that’s a 5-minute walk from my house. And about how I noticed when I drove by it yesterday that it had a huge “Now Hiring” sign out in front. And I thought, I should go get a job at that factory.

It assembles auto parts for Honda.

I have no clue how to work in a factory. I have no clue how to assemble auto parts.  I have no real marketable skills at all except for writing and editing, and I have no clue how I would stand on my feet for 40 hours a week in an assembly line and not shoot myself. But suddenly, since it is only a 5-minute walk from my house, by brain is telling me to just give up on everything and go work in a factory.

I was at it in my imagination for quite a while before I finally realized what I was doing and had to snap myself out of it: Jesus Christ, Marilyn, you’re not going to go work in a factory. You’re going to deal with your life.

And then I further thought about how most of my friends are now retiring and getting those social security checks and winding down their lives.  And I’m still in the very thick of everything, and am also very seriously contemplating another online start-up with M. Christian to begin next year. Something that would be so fucking cool and would be an indescribable ton of more (editing) work for me…

And I marvel at this idea: Retiring. What is that, exactly? How do people manage that?

It’s the exact opposite of what I’m always doing — piling more and more projects onto my plate. Projects that I love, you know? That I simply cannot say ‘no’ to.

Well, anyway.  As much as I would love certain aspects of retiring, I don’t think I’m ever going to do that.

On a whole other topic– Nick Cave sent out a Red Hand File today that was really interesting, about the nature of songwriting. You can read it here. It was really well stated. Just beautifully expressed.

And it was illustrated with the handwritten lyrics of a song he wrote a million years ago, “Sad Waters,” which was on the Bad Seeds’ Your Funeral…My Trial double EP from 1986. (And I always used to lie on my bed in the hellhole tenement apartment on E. 12th Street and listen to it on my record player and stare up at the ceiling and wonder why it was a double EP, and not just an LP? But anyway, it wasn’t.) Here’s the image he used. I just love this!!

Well, okay. I guess I better get started here. Have a terrific Tuesday, wherever you are in the world!! I know this will seem like an odd choice to leave you with, but this is the song I was listening to this morning, as I was drinking my coffee and  trying to get a grip on all my anxiety. Lou Bega, “I Got A Girl.” From his 1999 hit album, A Little Bit of Mambo (a really fun album, by the way).

So listen, enjoy, get rid of that free-floating anxiety if you can. Go file for your retirement benefits. Relax. Take it easy. Have a good life!! This song promises all of those good things. Thanks for visiting, gang. I love you guys. See ya.

“I Got A Girl”

Six, seven, eight, nine, ten
Lou Bega on a trip, would you all come in?
With a little bit of this and a little bit of that
You can get what you see, you can see what you get
And I bet that you all a little bit excited
If you need a autograph, honey, I can write it
I got girls worldwide on the planet
Some called Whitney and some called Janet

I gotta girl in Paris, I gotta girl in Rome
I even gotta girl in Vatican Dome
I gotta girl right here, I gotta girl right there
And I gotta girlfriend everywhere
I gotta girl on the Moon, I gotta girl on Mars
I even gotta girl that likes to dance in the stars
I gotta girl right here and one right there
And I gotta girlfriend everywhere

From Miami Beach to Beluga Bay
From the Milky Way to East L.A.
From St. Tropez to my home cafe
That´s my way and I do it like day by day
In Africa, America, Europe and Australia
Asia, Canada, I take them all an’ marry her
India, Arabia to the girls of Germany
All around the planet, you can be my fantasy

I gotta girl in Paris, I gotta girl in Rome
I even gotta girl in Vatican Dome
I gotta girl right here, I gotta girl right there
And I gotta girlfriend everywhere
I gotta girl on the Moon, I gotta girl on Mars
I even gotta girl that likes to dance in the stars
I gotta girl right here and one right there
And I gotta girlfriend everywhere

You and me, no matter where you from baby
No matter where you from baby, baby only you and me
You and me, no matter where you from baby
No matter where you from baby, baby only you and me

I gotta girl in Paris, I gotta girl in Rome
I even gotta girl in Vatican Dome
I gotta girl right here, I gotta girl right there
And I gotta girlfriend everywhere
I gotta girl on the Moon, I gotta girl on Mars
I even gotta girl that likes to dance in the stars
I gotta girl right here and one right there
And I gotta girlfriend everywhere
I gotta girl in Paris, I gotta girl in Rome
I even gotta girl in Vatican Dome
I gotta girl right here, I gotta girl right there
And I gotta girlfriend everywhere
And I gotta girlfriend everywhere
And I gotta girlfriend everywhere

© 1999 Lou Bega, Christian Koenigseder, Achim Kleist, Wolfgang Webenau Von