Unfortunately, it is rainy and humid today in the Hinterlands, so dads around here are not going to get to do what they do best!! (i.e., work really hard out in the blistering hot sun all day, then cook over a blazing fire…)

Here is a photo of my dad that I really love. It hangs on the wall in my family room.

This was taken of him before he got sick, right after he moved into his new Senior Living apartment building, after my stepmom had passed away:

***********

And this has nothing to do with Father’s Day, but it will finally explain to you why printers were created!

Today’s going to be a big day for them — I’m moving the kitten playpen thingie out of the bedroom. Mostly, I want them to get used to it not being in here anymore, even though they love climbing all over it. But it will be easier for the cat sitter to feed them and clean up after them, without the playpen getting in the way.

Meanwhile, all 4 of them have already started trying to get out of the room the minute the door is open. But as soon as they encounter one of my full-grown curious cats out in the hall, they come running back in.

But we’re getting there… They are 9 weeks old already. They need to explore. My main concern is still Little Blackie (the mom) getting out and attacking my other cats, so I’m taking everything a moment at a time.

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

Well.

Yesterday was sort of a weird day for me. And it all stems from my novel, The Curse of Our Profound Disorder.

As I read over it, I’m astounded that it essentially needs no revising, and there have been an absolute minimum of typos. Clearly, I had already spent a ton of time editing it, 26 years ago.

And even though I certainly remember that I wrote this book, I have no recollection of actually sitting at my desk in our apartment at 777 West End Avenue–

— and literally writing it. Whereas, I have clear memories of every aspect of writing or editing all of my other novels and books (a total of 38, including stories I wrote specifically for other editors’ books).

So I find it really odd that I have no memories like that for The Curse of Our Profound Disorder. I can remember submitting it to the various writing competitions back then and how happy I was when it would win something (it actually won something in each competition I entered it in).

But, as I said in a recent blog post, it is a little unnerving to read over it and readily see who certain characters were based on, and which events were from my own life, and which from other girls I knew — often a very long time ago.

What made yesterday difficult was coming across a few passages where I was clearly contributing my own feelings, about something that had happened to me, to one of my characters. So it was like unexpectedly encountering myself in a novel that I don’t remember writing.

And yesterday was the 50th anniversary of me having seen the Rolling Stones in concert for the first time and, even though it was a HUGE event in my life, I found that I was unable to really even think about it yesterday — because a couple of weeks after the concert, I had my first suicide attempt and was then committed to the mental hospital.

And so all of the characters in my book, and all of my experiences of my early life, have been converging. Some of it is devastating.

Meanwhile, I’ve also been listening to Exile on Main St. — a lot. Which is kind of the soundtrack to all of this stuff, since it was my first Rolling Stones album and it absolutely blew me away. (The summer I turned 12.)

It’s hard to pick a favorite song from it now, there are so many I love, but I remember clearly that when I very first bought it and started listening to it on the record player up in my room, this was the song I loved the most. I played it over and over and over:

When I listen to it down in the kitchen now, while either making breakfast or dinner, I still remember every single word (to every song) — and it seems sort of amusing to me that I knew all these words when I was twelve (!!), for Christ’s sake. Although I really didn’t understand, yet, a lot of what they were singing about.

I sure do now.

And, obviously, I also have memories of my own life now. And now I know, from experiencing it, how (mostly) unhappy it was.

And then I wonder to myself what it would have felt like at the age of 12, if I knew I’d be listening to this same album alone in my kitchen when I was 65, still knowing every word…

Anyway, yesterday, a lot of this converged. And then add to it that I knew today was going to be Father’s Day.

And The Curse of Our Profound Disorder deals a lot with who I was and what life was like before I finally found my birth father (at age 28).

The novel is fictionalized — but not too much.

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

It is fascinating to read it and I am determined to just not flinch and let it all see the light of day, finally.

And it helps SO MUCH, knowing that a publisher (a woman, no less) is out there, waiting to read it. Wanting to like it. And also wanting to see it reach the light of day.

It’s an incredible incentive. An incredible feeling. So I keep at it, from the moment I get home from my shifts in the late afternoons, up until the early evenings, when I sort of collapse and make dinner — and listen to the Rolling Stones and remember my whole effing LIFE…

Well, yesterday, after I closed down the laptop for the evening, feeling sort of jumbled up inside, a little raw, but also really glad that I was doing this, I quickly checked my phone before heading downstairs and there was an unexpected email from the publisher, simply saying that she is really looking forward to seeing the whole manuscript.

Which, of course, makes everything feel like it finally makes sense.

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

In case people are wondering — I won’t go into it on the blog — but 2 weeks ago, I left the TV project behind. It had become just an enormous amount of nonstop typing, it wasn’t creative for me, and I had no life left and no time for the play or the novel, which both need my complete creative attention.

So I do feel right now that everything in my world is finally making sense.

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

Okay!

I think that’s it for now!!

Even though Nick Cave is Australian and lives in England, so it isn’t officially Father’s Day over there, I was going to include a photo of him with his sons. but trying to find a photo that included all 4 of them just became sort of really sad.

So here’s this!! Nick Cave with his grandson, Roman!

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

And of course, here’s this! Although there are quite a few more babies in the bunch now!

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

Okay!

Enjoy your Sunday — or Father’s Day — wherever you are in the world!

Thanks for visiting.

I love you guys. See ya!

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

I’ll skip the daily feature for today, but I leave you with this!!

James Tabor posted this video to his private group several days ago.

Joan Baez’s version of Steve Earle’s song, “Jerusalem.” Beautiful. Enjoy, gang.

“Jerusalem”

I woke up this mornin’ and none of the news was good
And death machines were rumblin’ ‘cross the ground where Jesus stood
And the man on my TV told me that it had always been that way
And there was nothin’ anyone could do or say

And I almost listened to him
Yeah, I almost lost my mind
Then I regained my senses again
And looked into my heart to find

That I believe that one fine day all the children of Abraham
Will lay down their swords forever in Jerusalem

Well maybe I’m only dreamin’ and maybe I’m just a fool
But I don’t remember learnin’ how to hate in Sunday school
But somewhere along the way I strayed and I never looked back again
But I still find some comfort now and then

Then the storm comes rumblin’ in
And I can’t lay me down
And the drums are drummin’ again
And I can’t stand the sound

But I believe there’ll come a day when the lion and the lamb
Will lie down in peace together in Jerusalem

And there’ll be no barricades then
There’ll be no wire or walls
And we can wash all this blood from our hands
And all this hatred from our souls

And I believe that on that day all the children of Abraham
Will lay down their swords forever in Jerusalem

c – 2002 – Steve Earle