I don’t know about you guys, but I’m having the hardest time trying to live through the morning over here.
I’m so done with the news. I guess we should just encourage everybody to go ahead and exercise their 2nd Amendment right to own firearms and protect themselves; this way we no longer have to worry about hair-trigger cops being called in to deal with “situations” anymore, and we can just all shoot one another.
Don’t have to worry anymore about race, creed, gender, religion, etc., etc., and cops.
That horrible American problem — solved. (We’re absolutely stellar at killing one another, though, so no problems there.)
And now there are all these weirdos out there (women, obviously) who want international legal regulations in place regarding AI sex robots, because the robots are getting too life-like and it’s disturbing the highly educated human women, and they’re worried that too many people (men) will get alienated from real live people (meaning, you know, people who shoot each other all over the place in this country…) As if it’s anyone’s business how alienated people want to become in the privacy of their own homes.
You know, I, for one, recall all sorts of intensely intense scenarios that me and my little girlfriends imposed on Barbie — with and without her fabulous clothes on — yet they never created laws about how we could treat her. It was never stark-raving-naked Barbie and all the things we subjected her to that upset & alienated me; it was those real-live fucking alienated men who raped me who actually upset me.
For godsakes, let them rape their sex dolls instead. Why the fuck do we need to make international laws about it? Nice as it is of those women to worry so much about random, nameless men, getting too much alone-time at home with their helpless dolls.
Also…
I loved how the various news outlets jumped so furiously on Fox News for allegedly portraying the Seattle autonomists (autonomous-ists?) as carrying guns… Later in the day, the Seattle autonomous-ists said, “well, yes, we do carry firearms — to protect ourselves from white supremacists…”
Christ, you know? I’m just done. No more fucking news without first imbibing heavily in drugs…(I’d say “booze,” but you know, booze puts on weight!! Much like this COVID 19 pandemic quarantine shit!)
So. I’m just done.
Unfortunately, I can’t take drugs and write worth a darn so I’m stuck being intensely 100% sober in every way. I’ve decided, instead, to put all sorts of barricades up between me and “the news.”
But on that auspicious note… I am making very good progress on Letter #8 — oddly enough, titled: “The Choice to Kill” — for Girl in the Night: Erotic Love Letters to the Muse. It’s going really well but it is also slow-going, only because I’m trying to capture so many complex things in a very few, tightly written pages. But I’m still happy with it.
(And, yes, I have completely developed a bona fide habit of having an unlit, filter-less cigarette in my mouth now whenever I’m sitting at my desk. I don’t think I’m ever gonna light it, but I have gone through that whole pack of Chesterfields that I bought several months ago, and now I’m halfway through a pack of Pall Malls.) (Because I’ve noticed that the filters snap off more easily from Pall Malls…) (Life in Crazeysburg these days…)
Oh! And I do indeed have a new barn door!! Yay!! However, that idea I had the other day, about putting some sort of flower box in the barn window? I’m having a lot of trouble finding planter-hardware that will fit the 8-inch width of the window ledge, without it being some sort of DIY, which I am not at all handy with. To say the least.
The widest planter- hardware I can find only fits a 6-inch window ledge. And I must say, though, that I sound quite interesting, saying, “No — I’ve got to have 8-inches!”
(More drugs, please.) (But it is super-cool that at my rapidly advancing age, people are still so ready to accept that a thing like size would still be at the forefront of my needs…)
All right. Jesus Christ. Here’s hoping that this day helps me reclaim some sort of sanity.
You know, not only is it Arbor Day here in America – thankfully, a holiday that honors trees, and that no race, religion, creed, or gender felt it necessary to appropriate from any other one — it is also the “anniversary” of my first suicide attempt. For some unknown reason, that date has always stayed with me — for 45 years now. So I’m going to try to look for and then tally all the reasons why I’m so darn glad that I lived long enough to see this glorious fucking day unfold before me, in all its splendor.
On that note, I’m going to get going around here, gang. Enjoy your Sunday. Please. And thanks for visiting. I leave you with more Bee Gees breakfast-listening music from this morning!! Another spot-on song from their Spirits Having Flown album (1979): “Love You Inside and Out” (lyrics in video). But I’m also leaving you once again with Nick Cave’s version of “Cosmic Dancer” because I popped onto Bad Seed TeeVee, as I am wont to do, and it was playing again. And this song is one of the few songs around my house right now that makes me feel like — somehow, someway — I’m gonna survive this fucking fucked-up thing I call my American life. Enjoy, gang. I love you so much, guys. See ya.
Another dream coming true here in Crazeysburg, gang!
Wow, last evening was just the most amazing summer evening in a small town. Okay, I realize that, technically, it’s not going to be summer for about another week. But still. It’s June. It glorious weather. It’s summer.
The weather was so perfect last evening, that everyone was out and about — either riding bikes or riding motorcycles, or sitting out on their lawn chairs around the fire pit, and/or playing music, etc. Up until about 9:30 at night, when the sun finally disappeared from the sky.
On evenings like that, a lot of the neighbors are usually smoking weed, too, and the smell of it wafts into all my open windows from all directions, but now that lockdown for most public places ended this past Wednesday, I guess the weed-smokers were out at the lake…
Local Crazeysburg pot-smokers at the lake…
I know that you’re probably thinking, from the way I get so upset here on my blog about the state of America in general, that I must be in the thick of it — but none of those things are actually going on in Muskingum, County. Like most of rural America, the virus put in a negligible appearance here; social distancing is practiced, but masks are not worn out here, etc. And the riots/protests didn’t happen out here, either — and, practicalist that I am, I’m guessing it’s because way too many people in rural America, including Muskingum County, own plenty of guns and aren’t at all squeamish about using them.
But that’s just a wild thought off the top of my cynical head…
It’s funny how people in rural areas tend to know the Constitution, though, especially that part where it was determined that the 2nd Amendment gave individuals the right to bear arms to protect themselves (and their property)…
Well, even so. And even while the tiny village I live in is remote, I do still get upset about the shape of the rest of the country because I’m not able to separate myself from the rest of the country, or even the world, really, for that matter.
But that said — last night was just like some sort of dream. It really was. I felt just so grateful that some higher power found this house for me in the middle of beautiful Nowhere, Ohio. (Even if it means I have to breakdown and buy a male AI sex robot in order to have someone to enjoy it all with!!)
Okay.
Well, my dad has indeed decided to move! At age 90. Not to Florida, thankfully, but at least to a less restrictive senior retirement type place. He’s currently in Independent Living, on a nursing home compound, which will remain under lockdown probably until January, and he’s losing his mind. He’s in very good health — except for that recent stress-related thing a few days ago, which was also related to the lockdown. He’s only at a nursing home place because my stepmom needed to be there, but she has since passed away. So he’s moving to where things are no longer in lockdown. And now he has to seriously down-size his possessions. In 2 months…
This means that all those art work thingies of his that I have absolutely no room for but really, really want, are soon going to be mine. So that will be interesting, gang. I am so serious when I say that I have absolutely no room for any of it!! But I’m not going to let it get given away.
So, yesterday, I got great work done on Letter #8 for Girl in the Night: Erotic Love Letters to the Muse. So I am really happy about that. I’ll probably be working on that exclusively today.
And then, during the night, William, over at a1000mistakes blog in Australia — who is always making lists related to music, bands, books about bands, live concerts — posted his Top 100 favorite Nick Cave songs.
I was astounded by this! Not just the fact that he took the time to do that, but that he was able to categorize all those great songs into some sort of preferred order.
I cannot even imagine being able to do that. I’m only able to pick, like, my top five if I’m forced to do it. To think about it, I mean. And even then it gets hard to put even 5 great songs into some sort of preferential order. So, to me, his list was just fascinating.
Plus, growing up in Australia, he has had ready access to lots more Boys Next Door records and Birthday Party records, too. I have very little of that stuff and have had to sort of poke around on YouTube to even find it. So that was cool, too! You can check it out at this link if you’re so inclined.
Okay. I guess I’m going to get started around here! When you next hear from me, I should have a brand new barn door!! Finally!! I hope your Saturday is just as magical, wherever you are in the world! Thanks for visiting, gang.
I’ve been in a Bee Gees mood around here lately — the love songs this time, and not the heartbreaking songs, for which they are so renown! So I leave you with my breakfast-listening music from this morning: “Too Much Heaven.” It was off their Spirits Having Flown album from 1979, which has a couple other mega-platinum hits on it, as well. So, listen and rejoice. And enjoy your beautiful day. I love you guys. See ya!
“Too Much Heaven”
Nobody gets too much heaven no more
It’s much harder to come by
I’m waiting in line
Nobody gets too much love anymore
It’s as high as a mountain
And harder to climb
Oh you and me girl
Got a lot of love in store
And it flows through you
And it flows through me
And I love you so much more
Than my life.
I can see beyond forever
Everything we are will never die
Loving’s such a beautiful thing
Oh you make my world… a summer day
Are you just a dream to fade away
Nobody gets too much heaven no more
It’s much harder to come by
I’m waiting in line
Nobody gets too much love anymore
It’s as high as a mountain
And harder to climb
You and me girl got a highway to the sky
We can turn away from the night and day
And the tears we had to cry
You’re my life…
I can see a new tomorrow
Everything we are will never die
Loving’s such a beautiful thing
When you are to me, the light above
Made for all to see our precious love
Nobody gets too much heaven no more
It’s much harder to come by
I’m waiting in line
Nobody gets too much love anymore
It’s as high as a mountain
And harder to climb
Love is such a beautiful thing
You make my world a summer day
Are you just a dream to fade away
Nobody gets too much heaven no more
It’s much harder to come by
I’m waiting in line
Nobody gets too much love anymore
It’s as wide as a river and harder to cross
Nobody gets too much heaven no more
It’s much harder to come by
I’m waiting in line
Nobody gets too much love anymore
It’s as high as a mountain
And harder to climb
Nobody gets too much heaven no more
It’s much harder to come by
I’m waiting in line
Nobody gets too much love anymore
It’s as high as a mountain
And harder to climb
I usually don’t like to show you photos of my actual home here in Crazeysburg, on the legendary Wakatamika Creek (pictured above), because I don’t want you guys to get jealous!!
However, I do live rather luxuriously here, with my boat dock right in my house, at the bottom of the stairs — and of course, my prized AI male sex robot to keep me company on the couch…
Seriously, though — don’t you just love that picture? Someone’s idea of the future? And yet it contains completely outdated technology. Plus, you really, really gotta love somebody to want to live so remotely — and so alone — with them, right? And it looks really spacious, but it’s all sort of just one room, when you study it closely.
I have yet to love somebody that much that I wouldn’t want to have at least one wall between me and him or her.
You know — I’ve actually been seriously contemplating the perks of owning a male AI sex robot. I’m at least investigating that thought. Not for the sex, just the company. I’ve lived alone now for 4 years (well, alone with anywhere from 11 to 7 cats). But it’s been nine years since I actually lived with somebody I was romantically inclined toward (wow, that “love” word just really doesn’t want to put in too many appearances in my life, does it?).
Anyway, it’s been 9 years since I awoke, daily, with somebody in the bed next to me. And I’ve been thinking how, well — maybe it would be cool to have a male sex robot to at least occupy space in the bed, you know? Just lay there, and just be like somebody who’s in the bed. You don’t have to do anything. The more I thought about having that additional “presence” there, the more appealing it seemed.
However, they only make, like, 2 different models of AI male sex robots and they’re really young looking, and they don’t look anything like what I’m normally attracted to in real life. The fact that they cost more than my house has nothing to do with my reluctance; it’s strictly the way they look…
I mean, I do kind of like the hippie-biker-trucker type quasi-surfer looking robot (he’s brunette, too!!), but I’m creeped out by the fact that he looks about 17. If they made a hippie-biker-trucker type quasi-surfer looking brunette male sex robot who looked about 60, I might start looking into a second mortgage on my house. But, I guess, until then…
Anyway!!
Well, yesterday was fun. I accidentally unsubscribed myself from Nick Cave’s Red Hand Files email thingy. I think I signed back up, but when I tried to re-subscribe through his site, it seemed to think I was already subscribed and wanted to know what my fucking weird American problem was — (my words) — so I think it’s my actual Yahoo account that thinks I’m unsubscribed.
I was really quickly cleaning out my inbox yesterday on my iPhone (have you noticed how fast you can delete emails now on the iPhone???) and when it asked me if I wanted to unsubscribe to “Nick Cave”, I clicked “yes” before I had a chance to not click “yes.” Really — it just came at me so fast. I mean, God forbid they ask me if I want to unsubscribe from those weird SnapChick emails from extremely creepy young women who want to have sex…
So, I tried to fix the mistake through my inbox, although I’m not sure if I did.
But it feels like it’s been forever since he sent out a Red Hand Files thingy (that could be my skewed perception, I’m not sure), so I keep checking, checking, checking — both at Yahoo and at the RHF site — to make sure I’m still getting the updates because I don’t want to miss out on my reason for living!!!
Other interesting things I did yesterday — got some good work done on Letter #8 for Girl in the Night: Erotic Love Letters to the Muse. I was at it until about 8 o’clock last night. And it’s strange because I feel like I know what I want to say, or to write about, but it keeps coming out weirdly — the words seem to keep changing their minds about how they want to be arranged on the page. And then it will suddenly seem like I’m taking forever to say one simple thing.
I don’t feel bad about it, because it’s progress, but I do find it really perplexing that it isn’t just finding its rhythm and then finding the page. This Letter #8 has been wanting to come out for quite a number of days already. I guess I’ll just stick with it until it tells me where it really wants to go.
Well, I won’t say too much more about this other topic, but it just disgusts me so much: more conversations with colleagues in NY — both black colleagues and white colleagues — who are saying that white anarchists were behind the protests there getting so violent. (First, piles of bricks being at the meet-up sites before the peaceful protestors even arrived, and now the discovery of stacks of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream containers left behind at the protest sites — the kinds of ice cream containers with the lids — only they’re filled with concrete.)
You know, where are the white anarchists now? Now that all the damage has been done, and people have children (of color) at home, afraid to leave the apartment because so many New Yorkers are enraged by all the damage the “black protestors” caused? It just makes me so sick — as if the actual real problem of inequality wasn’t bad enough. Taking all your hate and anarchy shit and dumping it in the laps of people with real problems, who didn’t ask for it. (And of course, Trump out there being mocked and ridiculed for saying that terrorists were behind the riots getting so violent and now he’s once again proved right… you know? Hello.)
Well, okay. On that note, I will cease and desist because, God knows, my soapboxes can get pretty long and drawn out.
I hope you have a happy and productive Friday, wherever you are in the world. Thanks for visiting, gang. I leave you with something else that was wonderful from my wee bonny 1984 girlhood!! The Screaming Blue Messiahs!! Anything off of their album Gun Shy is incredible, gang — but today I specifically leave you with “Someone To Talk To” (an AI sex robot perhaps??? You decide!!) Okay! I love you guys! See ya!
[PS: Sorry, lyrics are not available… But listen anyway, these guys do not disappoint!!]
Well, if you saw last evening’s post, you’ll know by now that we had intense thunderstorms around here, and even a tornado near by. But it blew out all the high heat and humidity that was keeping me from being able to breathe all day yesterday.
PLUS!! My new dust buster arrived yesterday afternoon!! I mentioned it in a previous post this week. I got one of those high-powered ones, to hopefully make it easier to deal with all the cat hair around here (and cat litter that flies everywhere, too).
And it works like a charm!! I love this fucking thing. It keeps its battery power for a long time, and it truly is high-powered. It was kind of astounding to see how much filth it was picking up from deep in the carpeting.
If you’re sort of a cleaning-freak, like I am, you can no doubt relate to how cool I found that high-powered suction thing, and it made me just want to clean and clean and clean!!
So I did!!!
And it doesn’t disturb the cats nearly as much as the vacuum cleaner does, so I hope I won’t have to bring that out as often anymore. We’ll see!
So the combination of an awesome breeze blowing throughout the house at dawn this morning, and coming downstairs to a thoroughly clean house and cool temperatures… there’s just NO WAY this isn’t going to be a great day.
Okay.
Well, the other day, I bought an online course about the theology of Martin Luther and the complicated launch of the Protestant Reformation, beginning in 1517 A.D. I’ve been listening to it a little bit every night before I go to sleep.
I studied the Reformation in Divinity School, of course. And I’ve also done a ton of studying on my own about the various sects that also sprang from that era. Plus, my ancestors were not only alive in Germany at that time, but they were living in that region of Germany that was directly affected by Martin Luther’s tumultuous change of the Church. And they were definitely practicing Protestants, there are surviving records to prove it, so I find it really interesting to think about them and what it was like to live through those times of enormous change. (It wasn’t “just” the Church that changed because of Martin Luther; it was the scope of the Western mind.)
Anyway. The course is fascinating. And no disrespect intended, but, man, Martin Luther was really kind of nuts!!
I’m (sort of) just kidding, gang. But before he settled on his theology of the Gospel, his teachings went to some seriously dark and masochistic and impossible places.
When I was 13, there was a cinematic version of the play, Luther (written by John Osborne), that I saw in the movie theater, so I was at least aware that Martin Luther was extreme. But now that I’m way, way, WAY older, and a minister and all that, I understand now just how extreme that man was. Wow.
I find that kind of stuff so interesting, gang. I really do. Even though it’s safe to say that I don’t adhere to any of those Lutheran ideas or beliefs, I’m still fascinated by the religious arc of the Western mind over the centuries. I just never get tired of learning about all of that.
So, as it so often turns out, the medicine they had prescribed my dad when he got sick last week, only ended up making him sicker. So the doctor told him to stop taking the medicine yesterday, and he’s at the doctor’s office right now, this morning. So, here’s hoping he’s going to finally be back to normal here soon.
He’s the kind of person who will only listen to a doctor, you know? We both knew the medicine itself was making him really sick, and I really wanted to tell him to stop taking it, but I knew he would just ignore me because I’m not a doctor! So I was relieved when he finally called the doctor and the doctor told him to stop taking it!
I find it so amazing, honestly, how some people treat doctors as if they’re actual gods and as if medicine, simply because it’s prescribed by a doctor, holds some special inalienable power. Meaning, that their brains are just so locked into that kind of reverent thinking, they can’t even bring themselves to question it.
I’m just so not like that and never have been. I guess because I have to question and ponder everything. (Which, of course, can get really annoying to the people around me.) But if I’m going to be forced to consider another human being to be “God,” I’d rather just give in and call Nick Cave “God,” as so many Europeans are wont to do!!
(I am, yet again, sort of just kidding…)
Another cool thing that happened — now that I currently have no main barn door on my barn, that storm last evening blew through the barn and blew open one of the side doors of the barn, and also the shuttered window on the other side of it. There’s no glass in the window — just wooden, hand-made, 110-year-old shutters!
I can see that side of the barn from my kitchen window. And this morning, when I went out there to the barn to close the shutters, I saw that there are some old eye-hook type things at either side of the shutters, so I can keep them open if I want to.
And do you know what that means??!!
Yes!! It means I can get yet another window box, plant flowers in it, put it in that barn window all summer long and see the flowers from my kitchen window!!
I’m so excited. (I’ll also be able to see Kevin’s vintage 1965 VW camper van through the open barn window all summer long, not quite as exciting, but still…)
The one draw back is that it’s a long trek from the kitchen, where I’d have to get the water every day to water the flowers. I’m not sure how excited I’ll be about doing that, every single day, all summer long. I already have to make 7 trips a day, in and out of the kitchen, to water all the flowers on both of my porches…
Anyway. We’ll see. I just felt really excited when I realized it today.
I read on Deadline Hollywood yesterday that Johnny Depp’s documentary of Shane MacGowan, Crock of Gold, has been picked up by Magnolia Pictures in North America. Which means we’ll probably get to actually see it!!
I love Shane MacGowan. And I loved The Pogues, back when he was the driving force of the band. And it’s one of those things where I am continually astounded to discover that most Americans (especially if you’re not Irish-American) have never heard of Shane MaGowan or The Pogues. In NYC, especially back in the 1980s — back then, at least, NYC was an intensely Irish town — The Pogues were really popular.
I had all of their albums and EPs, up until Shane MaGowan essentially drank his way out of the band. At this point, though, after decades of having to jettison more albums with every move I’ve had to make, I’ve only kept Rum, Sodomy, & the Lash and If I Should Fall From Grace With God. But they are two incredible albums, gang. I’m so excited to see that documentary.
Okay. I’m going to get started here now. I hope that Thursday is just as beautiful where you are today, gang!! Thanks for visiting. I’ll leave you once again with two listening options today:
The song that, when Nick Cave sang it solo on his In Conversations tour, caused people all over the world to call Nick Cave “God.” The song is, in fact, titled “God is in the House,” from the truly timeless and amazing Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds album, No More Shall We Part (2001).
And then one of my favorite Shane MacGowan songs, which couldn’t be more different than the Nick Cave song: “Sally MacLennane,” from The Pogues album, Rum, Sodomy, & the Lash (1985). Compare and contrast!! Listen and enjoy, gang!! Thanks for visiting. I love you guys. See ya!
“God Is In The House”
We’ve laid the cables and the wires
We’ve split the wood and stoked
the fires
We’ve lit our town so there is no
Place for crime to hide
Our little church is painted white
And in the safety of the night
We all go quiet as a mouse
For the word is out
God is in the house
God is in the house
God is in the house
No cause for worry now
God is in the house
Moral sneaks in the White House
Computer geeks in the school house
Drug freaks in the crack house
We don’t have that stuff here
We have a tiny little Force
But we need them of course
For the kittens in the trees
And at night we are on our knees
As quiet as a mouse
For God is in the house
God is in the house
God is in the house
And no one’s left in doubt
God is in the house
Homos roaming the streets in packs
Queer bashers with tyre-jacks
Lesbian counter-attacks
That stuff is for the big cities
Our town is very pretty
We have a pretty little square
We have a woman for a mayor
Our policy is firm but fair
Now that God is in the house
God is in the house
God is in the house
Any day now He’ll come out
God is in the house
Well-meaning little therapists
Goose-stepping twelve-stepping Tea-totalitarianists
The tipsy, the reeling and the drop down pissed
We got no time for that stuff here
Zero crime and no fear
We’ve bred all our kittens white
So you can see them in the night
And at night we’re on our knees
As quiet as a mouse
Since the word got out
From the North down to the South
For no-one’s left in doubt
There’s no fear about
If we all hold hands and very quietly shout
Hallelujah
God is in the house
God is in the house
Oh I wish He would come out
God is in the house
Well Jimmy played harmonica in the pub where I was born
He played it from the night time to the peaceful early morn
He soothed the souls of psychos and the men who had the horn
And they all looked very happy in the morning
Now Jimmy didn’t like his place in this world of ours
Where the elephant man broke strong men’s necks
When he’d had too many Powers
So sad to see the grieving of the people that he’s leaving
And he took the road for God knows in the morning
We walked him to the station in the rain
We kissed him as we put him on the train
And we sang him a song of times long gone
Though we knew that we’d be seeing him again
(Far away) sad to say I must be on my way
So buy me beer and whiskey ’cause I’m going far away (far away)
I’d like to think of me returning when I can
To the greatest little boozer and to Sally MacLennane
The years passed by the times had changed I grew to be a man
I learned to love the virtues of sweet Sally MacLennane
I took the jeers and drank the beers and crawled back home at dawn
And ended up a barman in the morning
I played the pump and took the hump and watered whiskey down
I talked of whores and horses to the men who drank the brown
I heard them say that Jimmy’s making money far away
And some people left for heaven without warning
We walked him to the station in the rain
We kissed him as we put him on the train
And we sang him a song of times long gone
Though we knew that we’d be seeing him again
(Far away) sad to say I must be on my way
So buy me beer and whiskey ’cause I’m going far away (far away)
I’d like to think of me returning when I can
To the greatest little boozer and to Sally MacLennane
When Jimmy came back home he was surprised that they were gone
He asked me all the details of the train that they went on
Some people they are scared to croak but Jimmy drank until he choked
And he took the road for heaven in the morning
We walked him to the station in the rain
We kissed him as we put him on the train
And we sang him a song of times long gone
Though we knew that we’d be seeing him again
(Far away) sad to say I must be on my way
So buy me beer and whiskey ’cause I’m going far away (far away)
I’d like to think of me returning when I can
To the greatest little boozer and to Sally MacLennane
I’ve been sitting here at my desk in front of the blog template for almost an hour already, unable to clear my mind and get to someplace fun & happy!
I hate using this blog to preach about shit, but I also hate just ignoring the blog for an entire day because I can’t think of something fun & happy.
So many of my readers here are not from the US. You come here to the blog every day from South America, Central America, Western Europe, Eastern Europe, Africa, Asia and countries of the Far East, the Middle East, the Near East, India, Canada, and Russia.
And of course it makes me wonder what you can possibly think about this insane country of ours, especially now.
Oh — and by the way, in case you hadn’t already heard, Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds announced yesterday that their North American tour, which was set to begin this fall, has been cancelled.
And, NO, they didn’t say it was because the US is so insane right now that they wouldn’t be caught dead here…. it was something to do with a pandemic.
Anyway!!
The news here this morning is that Columbus — the nearest city to Crazeysburg, 50 miles from here — announced that those few nights of rioting is going to cost the city and its small businesses over $3 million. (This doesn’t count what the pandemic has cost them, either. Small businesses have absolutely lost their shirts from the virus.) (If you don’t understand that phrase — it means that you have lost everything, including the shirt off your back.)
(I don’t know — doesn’t that look like at least 3 million more votes in Trump’s lap? Hmmm….)
That remark wasn’t really my point. My point is that this is a democracy, and people are always going to protest about something, and sometimes the protests will be violent, and there are always going to be factions in this country virulently opposed to other factions in this country. And the fact that we are allowed to have our opposing ideas, and even our violent opinions, and our individual understanding of what truth is even when it’s completely at odds with what everybody else’s truth is, is what makes a democracy so sacred to human rights.
However, the thing that confounds me about the US now is this whole up-swelling of younger people who have the misunderstanding that a democracy is a “cancel-out” culture. That if someone disagrees with you, that person needs to be cancelled out (silenced) in some way.
(My problem with my play, Tell My Bones, comes under that banner, but I want to add that the director called me twice yesterday, assuring me that he was not abandoning the play. That we were going to have to wait it out, for when NYC gets back to some sort of “normal.”)
The sad situation in our country is that most public schools no longer teach History or Government, or even World History. Private schools are where children get the prime education nowadays — whether they are Catholic schools or strictly academic schools.
Public schools are no longer funded well enough to focus on anything but the basics. There’s no Art, no Music — without parents paying separately for it, and then it usually happens after school. A lot of the schools no longer even have libraries. And even the school sports teams are funded by parents paying for the kids to be on the team.
Yes — isn’t that insane? You no longer have to try out and see if you’re good enough to make the team. If your parents can afford to pay for you to be on it, you’re on the team.
What’s even worse, is that sports like swim teams, that hand out trophies for 1st, 2nd, 3rd place — well, now anyone who participates gets a trophy. Just for showing up. Because no one wants any of the kids to have hurt feelings.
This has been going on for a couple of decades already.
Even at the college level — a friend of mine is a college professor and he’s not allowed to use red ink to grade papers because the color red is too threatening to students.
This is not a joke. This is real. Red ink is too threatening.
An entire culture of young people coming out of our public schools who are not adept at handling challenges or conflicts or the opposing opinions of others.
And they aren’t taught how a democracy is run, either. They don’t even study the Constitution of the United States or the Bill of Rights anymore (in public schools). They aren’t taught History, for godsakes. Or that tolerance, however difficult it can be, or impossible it can feel sometimes; it’s the foundation of the civil liberties of all Americans.
(And I guarantee you that a lot of politicians are banking on you not having a clue what the fuck is really going on with all that anymore. Even if you think you’re on the “right” side. That same side is banking on you not knowing how to even really think.)
I just saw a comment just this morning where a well-known Hollywood actor was making a movie about a revolution in another country and he said that it made him think about how the Europeans came to America and what happened then to the Native Americans who were already here.
Honestly — he had to act in a movie in Hollywood before that thought occurred to him??!! WTF??!!
When you study History and World History and Government you learn about things that are really important.
About how history has an uncanny way of repeating itself — all over the world. And to expect that violence is met with violence — so, if you want to choose violence, which is your right, you need to expect violence to come right back at you. Whether you’ve murdered someone, or whether you’re fighting for your inalienable right to live.
It has astounded me, the outcry in the national news that the recent riots were met with riot police, or even the militia. Or that what was intended to be a peaceful protest became violent anyway — on either side. Or that people with an organized agenda of some kind will barricade themselves behind innocent, well-meaning people and allow them to become victims of violence that they didn’t start.
Where is the “news” in that? This has gone on throughout all time.
And so many people bringing up now what happened at Kent State in 1970, when the Ohio National Guard was called in and unarmed students were killed.
Yeah, that happened. I’m surprised they didn’t teach you that in school. It’s part of our history — people fighting for change and for their rights and losing their lives because of it.
I can’t forget it because I lived here back then. Ohio was very violent back then, and the country itself was very violent. Non-military groups, of all colors, were arming themselves and were setting off bombs everywhere and blowing up buildings. Shooting all sorts of people — on all sides. Aside from flat-out assassinations, well-known public people, from politicians to pornographers, wound up in wheelchairs for life because of snipers’ bullets. And riots were common. And blow back was common.
It’s awful. I’m a pacifist and always have been. I cannot handle violence. I expect something more rational from all people. And I’m usually really disappointed. But violence is a part of an equation. We’re all allowed to make any choice we want to make, but we also have to at least be aware that no action exists in a vacuum. There’s going to be a reaction — it’s part of the laws of Physics.
That stuff that they teach you in school, right?
Anyway. It all sucks, of course. But what I have a hard time dealing with is this lack of education in a huge section of America, and this lack of critical thinking and this idea that Liberals — who were once the embodiment of tolerance — are now at the forefront of the culture of cancelling-out; of silencing people; of the idea that someone is not entitled to their views if they oppose yours.
And this lack of History. My god. Honestly. If I see one more person putting forth the image of Bob Dylan and quoting his song “The Times They Are A-Changing”, I’m going to scream.
The times are changing. It’s a no-brainer, gang. But you’d be much better equipped quoting other songs he wrote, that weren’t so “feel-good.” He wrote a ton of them. I leave you with a couple of those today.
All right thanks for visiting, gang. I love you guys. See ya.
“Only A Pawn In Their Game”
A bullet from the back of a bush took Medgar Evers’ blood
A finger fired the trigger to his name
A handle hid out in the dark
A hand set the spark
Two eyes took the aim
Behind a man’s brain
But he can’t be blamed
He’s only a pawn in their game
A South politician preaches to the poor white man
“You got more than blacks, don’t complain
You’re better than them, you been born with white skin” they explain
And the Negro’s name
Is used it is plain
For the politician’s gain
As he rises to fame
And the poor white remains
On the caboose of the train
But it ain’t him to blame
He’s only a pawn in their game
The deputy sheriffs, the soldiers, the governors get paid
And the marshals and cops get the same
But the poor white man’s used in the hands of them all like a tool
He’s taught in his school
From the start by the rule
That the laws are with him
To protect his white skin
To keep up his hate
So he never thinks straight
‘Bout the shape that he’s in
But it ain’t him to blame
He’s only a pawn in their game
From the poverty shacks, he looks from the cracks to the tracks
And the hoof beats pound in his brain
And he’s taught how to walk in a pack
Shoot in the back
With his fist in a clinch
To hang and to lynch
To hide ‘neath the hood
To kill with no pain
Like a dog on a chain
He ain’t got no name
But it ain’t him to blame
He’s only a pawn in their game
Today, Medgar Evers was buried from the bullet he caught
They lowered him down as a king
But when the shadowy sun sets on the one
That fired the gun
He’ll see by his grave
On the stone that remains
Carved next to his name
His epitaph plain
Only a pawn in their game
Oh, my name—it ain’t nothin’
My age—it means less
The country I come from
Is called the Midwest
I’s taught and brought up there
The laws to abide
And that the land that I live in
Has God on its side
Oh, the history books tell it
They tell it so well
The cavalries charged
The Indians fell
The cavalries charged
The Indians died
Oh, the country was young
With God on its side
The Spanish-American
War had its day
And the Civil War too
Was soon laid away
And the names of the heroes
I’s made to memorize
With guns in their hands
And God on their side
The First World War, boys
It came and it went
The reason for fighting
I never did get
But I learned to accept it
Accept it with pride
For you don’t count the dead
When God’s on your side
The Second World War
Came to an end
We forgave the Germans
And then we were friends
Though they murdered six million
In the ovens they fried
The Germans now too
Have God on their side
I’ve learned to hate the Russians
All through my whole life
If another war comes
It’s them we must fight
To hate them and fear them
To run and to hide
And accept it all bravely
With God on my side
But now we got weapons
Of chemical dust
If fire them we’re forced to
Then fire them we must
One push of the button
And a shot the world wide
And you never ask questions
When God’s on your side
Through many dark hour
I’ve been thinkin’ about this
That Jesus Christ
Was betrayed by a kiss
But I can’t think for you
You’ll have to decide
Whether Judas Iscariot
Had God on his side
So now as I’m leavin’
I’m weary as Hell
The confusion I’m feelin’
Ain’t no tongue can tell
The words fill my head
And they fall to the floor
That if God’s on our side
He’ll stop the next war
Well, somehow I got through yesterday. Many phone calls — all of which helped me find balance and perspective, and redirect my focus toward the future, and all my other projects.
A few of you wrote to me yesterday (thank you), some of you not understanding why my having written a play about a black painter is now considered “racist.”
The term is actually “cultural appropriation,” which means that white people are not supposed to write about black lives because we can never truly understand them and would therefore create a false perspective of what it means to be black in America.
I can agree with that, but only so far; only up to a point. At some point, we all become human beings. I wrote a play about a woman’s life with not only her full consent to write about her, but with her very deep hope that her story would reach the world in some way.
I also feel that the accusation of cultural appropriation threatens to ghettoize all writers, because it also means that blacks can only write about black lives; Asians can only write about Asians; Latinos can only write about the Latino experience of life on Earth; Native Americans can only write about Native Americans; and Eskimos or any other indigenous people, are only capable of expressing what life on Earth means to an Eskimo, etc. Men can’t write about women; women can’t write about men; Gays can’t grasp the lives of straight people, and straights can’t imagine what it’s like to be Gay.
It gets dangerous to compartmentalize everyone’s experience of Life on Earth, gang.
However, sadly, I saw this coming a few weeks ago — even before the Black Lives Matter protests exploded again with the murder of George Floyd in Minneapolis — because I attended a poetry reading online that truly alarmed me in its rage and anti-white agenda.
It was a fundraiser, and at the time, I was impressed that they’d raised $9,000 during a pandemic. Until another fundraiser I attended online — a multi-cultural poetry reading, heavy with Latino/Latina poets — raised $140,000 in 24 hours, during the same pandemic.
I was just incredibly alarmed, gang, by all the “vibes.” I could tell that something was going to absolutely explode. And I could also tell that my play was going to somehow get hit by shrapnel.
Anyway. It did. It has. And now on we go, toward the future.
I have no lack of projects to devote my attention to — and that’s an understatement. And I hope that all the sorrow and devastation I felt yesterday, cleared the deck for me emotionally, and I can get back to focusing on these other things. For instance, Girl in the Night sits there with only one additional sentence since Sunday. And everything else imaginable remains, basically, half done.
But it is a really unbelievably beautiful day here today. And I slept great (through some miracle), and I am still in love with my life. I don’t really give credence to that saying “everything happens for a reason,” because I’m more of a firm believer that once something is created, it lives, and it goes out into the world, either in spirit or in physical form, or maybe even both. Allow creation to happen for the joy of creation itself. Just allow — you know?
It’s not always easy to get to that place of allowing, but it beats the energy of resisting. For sure.
Okay. I hope you all have a terrific Tuesday underway out there, wherever you are in the world! Thanks for visiting, gang. I leave you with something I was listening to, just for the hell of it. The joy of it. For the years gone by and all the joy and dreams-under-the-bridge-of-it! “Emotional Rescue,” by the Rolling Stones. This was their album that was a huge hit at the time that I moved to New York City, in 1980 (at age 20) and finally started having my “real” life.
So listen and just rejoice, gang. I love you guys! See ya!
I honestly cannot believe I’m having to post this, but it is looking like my play about the painter Helen LaFrance, Tell My Bones, is being shelved indefinitely due to my being a white writer and the play is about a black woman.
Since the Black Lives Matter protests have taken over the country, no one wants to be perceived now as racist or as politically incorrect.
I’ve worked on Helen’s life story now for 8 years — as a screenplay first, then as a play with music.
I’m devastated. I can’t really even think straight. This has been going on since last evening, so I’m really just a mess. My nerves are destroyed.
Naturally, I got no significant work done on Girl in the Night: Erotic Love Letters to the Muse. And today — in between bouts of crying, I’m just worn out. Just wanting to vomit.
A bright note — the other day, I found a first edition of the photo book Fish in a Barrel, in excellent condition at list price. These are photos the photographer Peter Milne took of Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds on tour, and it came out in 1993. It includes some of my favorite photos of them.
The book arrived in today’s mail. I’m happy but I’m also sad because I don’t know how 27 years flew by so quickly. This all seems like yesterday.
Don’t forget! If you live in Copenhagen, or can get there, Stranger Than Kindness, the Nick Cave exhibit, opened today!!
And on another sad note, my best friend Paul, who died from AIDS in 1999, would have been 61 today. I like to feel that he’s hanging out with me a little bit today, but honestly, I just don’t know anything anymore.
Have a good Monday, gang, wherever you are in the world. Thanks for visiting, I love you guys. See ya.
This is another one of those posts that is going to be brief!
It is just a spectacularly sunny day here, today. And add to that, that I managed to get the house all vacuumed yesterday, so the sun is not shining in on a ton of cat hair everywhere — and I’m just super happy about that.
If you saw my post from last night, you know that Letter #8 for Girl in the Night: Erotic Love Letters to the Muse took an unexpected turn yesterday, so I want to get back at that. See where it wants to take me now.
Last night, I also posted about the discouraging news about the birthday stuff for next month — well, now my dad is really sick. So I’m guessing he is just really stressed out about all of this.
You know, since there is not a damn thing I can do about this stupid pandemic, I cannot get too bogged down in all these unhappy feelings. I need to just accept “what is.” Somehow, move forward.
Okay. Don’t forget — if you live in Copenhagen, or live somewhere where you’re allowed to travel to Copenhagen, the Nick Cave exhibit, Stranger Than Kindness, opens tomorrow!! And if you get to see it, please write and tell me about it!!
All right, well that’s it for today. I want to get started here.
I hope you have a good Sunday, wherever you are in the world. Thanks for visiting, gang. I leave you with “Oh Happy Day,” that huge hit by the Edwin Hawkins Singers from something like 45 years ago. It’s how I’m feeling at the moment! I hope you are, too! Enjoy. I love you guys. see ya!!
It’s been a really lovely day here, gang, but kind of sad.
My dad and I have birthdays one day apart: mine is July 22nd and his is July 23rd. We were supposed to have a big family gathering this July, to celebrate the fact that my dad is turning 90 and I’m turning 60. Plus it was a way for everyone to be together again for something a little happier than my stepmom’s funeral (which was back in January.)
Anyway, today my dad canceled the party because of the pandemic. Nursing homes and their surrounding “assisted living” residences are still under tight lockdown and might stay that way through the fall.
So it’s frustrating and sad.
I did vacuum the house, though. No help from the cats, of course. And oddly, after spending so much time with that first page of the new segment for GirlintheNight, I was working some more on the second page today and then realized it was actually the first page of the segment and wound up totally deleting that whole other first page. (This is for Letter #8.)
I sure wasn’t expecting that, but it’s okay. The Letter has taken on a whole new tone.
The day is indeed over and now the evening is just so lovely. So quiet. But I still feel a little sad.
The sun is still on the horizon. I’m going to watch yet another CharlieChan movie— another one that I’ve seen before. I’ve seen most of them many times! Anyway, they’re fun and I don’t really have to think, which is what I want right now.
Okay.
Hope your Saturday was good to you, gang. I love you guys. See ya!
Marilyn's Room 