Well, after having an all-out coughing fit late last night and then sleeping for 10 hours, I appear to be 99.9% over this fucking virus, finally!
I sure hope so. It has been over 3 weeks already. I am not at 100% yet but the difference in my breathing between today and all the other days that came before it is huge. So I’m hoping I don’t regress again.
The past two days, I started doing yoga again — but only 15 minutes each time, and only stretches that focused on my posture, my abs, my rib cage; trying to get some strength around my lungs and it seems to have helped a lot.
The Amish roofing guy called this morning to confirm that he’s coming by bright & early tomorrow morning to discuss the new roof for my barn!! I’m so excited, gang. It’s really happening. (And knowing the Amish and their amazing craftsmanship with wood, I’m hoping against hope that he might know someone who will want to come haul away the dead oak tree for not too high a fee. We shall see!)
For those of you who are Johnny Cash fans, I made a mistake yesterday regarding the new documentary about his first wife, My Darling Vivian. It actually starts streaming today on Amazon, not tomorrow, and then streams for the next week.
It is a truly gorgeous morning here, gang. I feel really optimistic again about everything. Plus, I also started streaming the “Suspicions of Mr. Whicher” movies last evening (BBC 2011- 2014). They’d been in my queue for a few years already and I’d forgotten all about them. Wow, I love them! They are so fun. I don’t want them to end. (Do you even remember what it was like in the years before we were able to binge-watch stuff? How it would take us months, if not an entire year, to get through a series? I regret that I can go through a series at breakneck speed now and then, suddenly, it’s over and there’s nothing left to watch… But I still love being able to do it. Especially in lockdown.)
Well, I don’t know what I’m going to do today. I want to try to take it really easy even though I feel worlds better, because I don’t want to go into reverse again. So we’ll see how the day plays out.
Meanwhile, I will get going here. I hope you have a really good Monday, wherever you are in the world. I leave you with my listening music from last night, as I was falling to sleep. It is Jacques Offenbach’s “Barcarolle,” from his opera The Tales of Hoffman. It is probably my favorite opera. I’m not a huge opera fan, but I love this one. And the aria, “Barcarolle” — if you aren’t familiar with it at all — is just stunningly lovely and it underscores an orgy in the beginning of Act 3, “Barcarolle” is also known as “Beautiful Night, O Night of Love”. (I saw it staged by the Met in NYC and it was probably the most eloquent and moving orgy I’d ever seen….)
Anyway. It’s beautiful, and I drifted off to dreamland last night while listening to it over & over. Enjoy. And thanks for visiting, gang. I love you guys. See ya!
(Who knew sewing could be so sexy? It might even make this coronavirus look sexy…maybe we’ll find out — I’ve got some buttons around here that need re-attaching!!)
Alas, though, I actually got dressed here this morning. For a change, I am not in my chemise. I am in real clothes. For now, anyway.
It was one of those mornings where I woke up and felt like I was finally totally fine. But once I was actually out of bed and walking around… How long is this fucking breathing problem going to last? This virus just doesn’t quit.
Okay. Well. Happy Sunday!
It’s rainy here today but still really mild, so some windows are open and the cats are happy, so that means I’m happy, too!
So, yes, I got dressed and I’m planning to work at my desk for a while today. At least do some editing if not some actual writing. We’ll see how it goes. I really just want to be back to normal around here. It’s so frustrating.
However, there was more good news regarding the upcoming staged (taped) reading for Tell My Bones. I can’t really go into it on the blog yet, but I spoke with the director again yesterday and the call made me just unbelievably happy. I’m really just so blessed, gang.
And even amid this whole lockdown COVID 19 thing, I was able to get those updated Life Rights contracts signed by everyone and returned to me and options got paid and everything is moving ahead smoothly regarding the play. Just weird, right? Things still got done, even though I was basically in bed for 3 weeks straight.
Oh, and yesterday, more new luggage arrived! This was a 3-piece set. Heavy duty luggage this time. The kind with the hard outer shell and large enough that you could go away for a couple of weeks.
If you are new to the blog, back before I bought this current house, I rented a friend’s house for almost 2 years. And had to put most of my life into storage. When I was cleaning out the old house, I was in a very bad mental state, and a lot of things I wanted to put into storage accidentally went off to Goodwill instead.
Once I got settled down into this house and had to start traveling again, I discovered that I had absolutely no luggage. None. At all. It had been given away to charity by mistake. I had one small flight bag to my name. So, little by little, I’ve been replacing stuff. Overhead carry-ons, under-seat carry-ons, and now actual luggage. So I’m set.
It was pretty exciting when the stuff arrived yesterday because it made me feel as though, one of these days, I actually won’t have the virus any longer, and the theater stuff will be happening in NYC again and not on Zoom, and the film stuff will be moving ahead again in LA, and I will be traveling again. Yay.
Here’s some more exciting news — a new documentary about Johnny Cash’s first wife, Vivian, will be streaming free on Amazon for one week, beginning this Tuesday, April 28th. The film, My Darling Vivian, told by their 4 daughters, has gotten incredibly terrific reviews. I can’t wait to see it!
Johnny and Vivian Cash at home with 2 of their daughters
She’s another one of those first wives whose reputation in the minds of the public has been seriously tarnished by the PR machine. Apparently, this documentary undoes all that damage. I can only imagine, you know — during that whole first marriage, while he was getting famous and traveling constantly, he also did just an enormous amount of drugs & drinking. Just off the charts. That first marriage must have been just unbelievably difficult.( I guess we’ll find out on Tuesday.)
(He had his demons, for sure, though — if you’ve read any of his memoirs. For one thing, he had an older brother whom he idolized, who got killed early on in a horrible accident at a saw mill– basically got cut in half.)
When Johnny married June Carter, later in his career, he sobered up and found Jesus. (Which was great, because a lot of us were looking for Jesus and didn’t know where he was — but Johnny found him. It turned out, he was right where we’d last left him– in that top drawer in the kitchen, right next to the stove!) (Okay. Just kidding.)
All righty. I’m gonna scoot. I really, really hope to get some actual work done here today. Even if it’s just a little tiny bit of editing. It would feel so good!
I hope you are enjoying your Sunday, wherever you are in the world! As far as music goes, I’ve still been just watching Bad Seeds TeeVee around here. And since I tend to prefer listening to audio tracks and not watching “official videos,” there are a ton of Bad Seeds videos out there that I’d never seen. It’s been very fun. There was even one in clay-mation with 3 Barbie doll/mermaids that was just too cool!! Just unbelievable stuff. However, I will leave you with a very early Johnny Cash televised performance from 1958 here this morning. Enjoy, gang! Stay well!! I love you guys. See ya!
And — oddly enough — that’s me sitting at my desk in 1973! Some things absolutely never change, apparently. (And I still have a tiny desk — even 47 years later.) (And, gosh, I wish I still smoked.) (I loved smoking, even though I only ever smoked occasionally, even as an adult. However, as all things go with those occasional loves — it stopped loving me first.)
I bring up me at age 13 because last night I watched that documentary, The Sacred Triangle: Bowie, Iggy & Lou 1971-1973.
Wow, was it interesting. And it focused primarily on the years 1971-1973. Although, they went into a lot of earlier background on Bowie that I only vaguely sort of knew.
I’m guessing that since Bowie always had this reputation of being really controlling about how his public image was portrayed, this is the kind of documentary that only could have been made about him posthumously. Not that it said anything bad about him, really. But it showed a different side to him. And Angie Bowie was in it a lot. And she came off really great. It was kind of amazing, really. The PR machine has sort of religiously tried to discredit anything she’s ever said publicly — ever — since she and Bowie split, a million years ago.
Back in the early 70s, I didn’t really understand the connection between those three men: Bowie, Iggy and Lou Reed. I knew they knew each other, but only because it seemed like all the rockstars I loved back then knew each other. They were always photographed together, doing stuff in London or NYC that was nowhere near a concert stage. And then there was also a Berlin connection a few years later. So I never really gave it any thought at all — the actual connection they had within their careers.
And it’s kind of ironic that just a couple of days ago, I started playing Lou Reed’s Transformer record again. (The record was produced by Bowie and Mick Ronson in 1972 — and that’s the record that had Lou’s hit “Walk On The Wild Side” on it, which I heard on the AM radio when I was 12 and absolutely could not believe. I’d never heard any song like it in my life. ) (And then in my mid-20s, during the AIDS epidemic in NYC, I was a volunteer with the Visiting Nurses of NY and one of the patients I was assigned was the photographer Peter Hujar, who had taken so many of the iconic photographs of all those people Lou sang about in that song.)
Anyway. I felt such an unexpected connection to that documentary. I was kind of stunned. I was only peripherally aware of it — I’d seen some things mentioned about “The Sacred Triangle” on Instagram, but I thought it was in connection to one specific famous photo of the three men that Mick Rock had taken back then.
And there the movie suddenly was, available to stream for free on Amazon last evening. And it seemed like a nice moment to pause Bad Seeds TeeVee for 90 minutes… (man, that is an addicting channel. It’s just awesome. I went to sleep last night, still staring at Bad Seeds TeeVee on my phone in the dark.)
Okay. So.
I’ve started some initial discussions with Valerie about the small press I want to start up here (to self-publish all 749 million of my books, past & present). She helps me design covers for some of my eBooks, so I’m hoping she can also help me design covers for the actual books.
I’m wanting to have one basic sort of design “feel” — if that’s the way to describe it. Sort of how New Directions Publishing was in the old days, where all of their book covers had a similar look to them. Not a lot of color, almost black & white. The same font all the time.
I’m kind of wanting to go with something like that. My goal is to have erotic books that don’t have girls in their underwear on the covers, so that people can read the darn books anywhere they want to. Women especially. (I had female friends in the past who had to make book covers out of paper bags, in order to cover up the photos of practically naked women on the covers of my books, so that they could read my books on the subway without feeling harassed. I also had a friend here in Ohio who did that with a cut-up paper bag so that her husband wouldn’t know she was reading my book Stirring Up A Storm — which was nominated for 3 Pushcart Prizes for fiction, for godsakes, you know? Take the fucking naked women off the covers and more people will read the darn books.)
Anyway.
I’ve also come to the understanding that Blessed By Light is probably not a good title for that novel. Too many people have thought it was a Christian novel of some kind. So I’m thinking maybe I should call the whole book The Guitar Hero Goes Home (which is currently the title of Chapter 18 in the novel).
Plus, I want to go with a different cover. Valerie already designed one last year that had a guitar on it and a Hellcat (car) and a guy smoking a cigarette. I want to change that all up now.
So she and I are working on that.
Peitor and I texted a lot yesterday, but we never actually hooked up over the phone. We are hoping to do that today, so we’ll see.
And even though it sounds like maybe I’m working a lot, or whatever, sadly, yesterday was one of those days where I ended up back in bed for awhile by mid-afternoon. I am hoping that today will be better. I am certainly feeling better today, at least. So we’ll see. I’m hopeful.
On that note, I guess I will close this and see what the day brings. It’s a gorgeous day here today and the temperatures are going to be mild enough that I will be able to open some windows later. So I’m excited! (And I can’t tell you how excited I am about that barn, gang!! I can’t wait!! My neighbors are gonna fall over and die when I finally fix that darn barn!)
All right. Thanks for visiting, gang. I leave you with something truly awesome I just now listened to on Bad Seeds TeeVee, “Give Us A Kiss” from 2014. The lyrics are in the video. Enjoy your Saturday, in the best way you know how. I love you guys. See ya!
There is now a 24 hour Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds stream on YouTube. And it’s totally addicting. (Bad Seeds TeeVee). I have stuff I need to do, you know? I need to lie around and stare out the window and sometimes read. I have to scroll mindlessly through silly cat & dog videos on TikTok. I have to scroll through Instagram. Watch 9-minute episodes of “Agua Donkeys” on Quibi.
In fact, I even have to write this blog post and I keep switching over to the window that is now always running Bad Seeds TeeVee…
I can already see that this is sort of going to become a problem.
All right. I paused it.
Good news on the Amish front! He is coming next week to discuss my roof options and then we will proceed from there. (I can’t decide whether I want another metal roof, or a shingle roof.) I am so excited, gang! A new roof on my barn. Finally. After two years of living here, already. God bless those high winds that removed segments of my roof for me and blew them off into my backyard, or I would probably have just kept putting it off.
Plus, last week, from one of my bedroom windows, I watched a house across the street get a beautiful new roof. And I mean, it is a beautiful roof. And the roofers did it in under two days. And I just sort of watched their speedy progress, and I watched the gorgeous roof become a reality. And I thought to myself, Oh god, that is what I need for my barn! I have got to do something about this. Where are the Amish when you need them?!
Of course, my barn is the fraction of the size of a house. It’s a small horse & buggy barn. The side where the horse used to be kept is now more of a garage, but the insides of the barn are exactly as they were when it was built in 1910.
The side that was meant for the buggy is where I want to put together a sort of potting shed. I store all my gardening stuff in there in a sort of heap right now (including my beloved rake (!!) which I am going to have to actually use once I can safely start moving around again). The raccoons got in there during the winter and pushed through some of the wooden slats of the outside wall. They didn’t actually do any damage, they just loosened the boards. So it has to be fixed up a little bit, but I am getting there. Finally. And I am super excited!! I love that barn.
I am now on Day 4 of feeling almost better. In fact, yesterday, since I went into town to get groceries, I obviously got dressed and then I stayed dressed for the entire day. That was the first time in 21 days that I actually was able to stay out of bed for the whole day. So I am indeed getting better.
I am sure hoping this breathing problem is not going to last for the rest of my life. It feels like it will, though. It’s a little discouraging.
My biological dad lost half of one of his lungs in the Vietnam War. He was injured on a flame thrower during a skirmish on the Mekong Delta. And especially in the mornings, he had trouble breathing. I always think about that now and I wonder how he stood it for all those years. (Plus, he kept right on smoking. I can’t even imagine it.)
Well, exciting news on the Tell My Bones front, regarding the staged reading now moving to the Zoom platform. The director and I had another long chat on the phone this morning, regarding his ideas and some technical people he wants to bring on board. I am feeling really positive about it. I’m going to have to do some minor editing to the script — just to scale it back for a reading. No actual rewrites. But I am pleased to announce that I will not be involved in any of the on-camera stuff for the Zoom reading. The director will handle all the on-camera stage directions, background info, etc.
I have no problems being on an actual stage, but I hate to be photographed, and even worse — I hate being on video in any way. I just can’t stand it. It makes me nuts. So I feel doubly excited that this reading can get pulled together with my staying completely in the background. It is a huge relief to me.
And all of that stuff is going to start coming together this weekend. Isn’t that insane, how quickly things get pulled together? (We still don’t have any actors yet besides Sandra. I just mean the technical stuff is going to be pulled together over the weekend.)
Well, I guess that’s kind of it. It’s Friday, which is usually an Abstract Absurdity Productions day, but we haven’t worked in over a week, so I don’t know if we’ll work today or not. I just sort of leave it up to Peitor right now. And of course eventually, I’m going to have to get back to working on that website — which technically I can do now, since I no longer have to stay in bed all day.
Okay, well! I’m gonna scoot. I hope your Friday is a good one, all things considered, wherever you are in the world! Thanks for visiting, gang. I leave you with my breakfast-listening music. I am a huge fan of all the early Emmylou Harris records. I know them backwards & forwards; every note, every nuance. She sang with some incredible musicians back then; worked with incredible songwriters. “If I Could Only Win Your Love” is an old song, written by the Louvin Brothers. It was on her Pieces of the Sky album, from 1975. Enjoy, gang. She sings like a country angel!! Okay. I love you guys. See ya.
“If I Could Only Win Your Love”
If I could only win your love
I’d make the most of everything
I’d proudly wear your wedding ring
My heart would never stray when you’re away
If I could only win your love
I’d give my all to make it live
You’ll never know how much I’d give
If I could only win your love
Oh how can I ever say
How I crave your love when you’re gone away
Oh how can I ever show
How I burn inside when you hold me tight
If I could only win your love
I’d give my all to make it live
You’ll never know how much I’d give
If I could only win your love
Oh how can I ever say
How I crave your love when your gone away
Oh how can I ever show
How I burn inside when you hold me tight
If I could only win your love
I’d give my all to make it live
You’ll never know how much I give
If I could only win your love
Yes! I left home this morning! I drove into town and bought groceries.
My breathing is better than yesterday, so this makes 3 days in a row when I haven’t gone in reverse with this virus. I’m still trying not to push my luck, or anything. But it was great to go into town and buy food.
AND!!! On the drive home, I saw an eagle! I don’t know if it was a golden eagle or a young bald eagle, because they sort of have similar coloring. It was sitting high up in a tree that didn’t have any leaves yet. And I was driving by on the highway, so it was just impossible to really tell. But, boy, was it an eagle! I was so excited.
And then, when I got home from the store, a neighbor came by and asked me if I wanted him to cut my (still horrible) grass. He charges less than my usual lawn guys, who still haven’t gotten back to me about when they’re coming out here. I texted them yet again. So we’ll see. I might be saving money on lawn care this summer.
AND!! I found an Amish guy who can likely fix the roof of my barn!!
Honestly, do days get better than this?? I don’t think so.
Last night, I heard from both Sandra (the actress in NY that I write theater projects with) and the director of Tell My Bones, who is here in the Hinterlands until the end of August. And it looks like we are going to be doing the staged reading of the play on Zoom, rather than waiting indefinitely to mount it in real life in NYC. So that is a huge switch-a-roo, But on we go, right? I’m just trying to stay adaptable.
The last time I made the drive into town was before I got the virus, back when the dogwoods were all in bloom. Well, now it’s the fruit trees everywhere, blooming. And around this part of Ohio, there are a lot of crabapple trees, which I just love. There are a number of different varieties, but they essentially look like this, in case you’ve never seen one (and the older trees get really huge; not tall but really wide):
I just love them. And today, they were everywhere.
Oh, and the gas price in town is now $1.49 a gallon. I have no idea what the heck that price even means, you know? It just keeps getting cheaper. So I stopped and got gas for the car, too.
Okay. Well, I’m super hungry and my morning is now entirely gone so I’m going to go down to the kitchen and make some lunch!
I hope you guys are having a great Thursday, wherever you are in the world. I might check in again later, I don’t know. Meanwhile, thanks for visiting. I leave you with my “driving to town song” from today. It’s from the 2003 Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds album, Nocturama — which I don’t hate. It has a number of songs on it that I really like, including this one (I actually love this one) — “He Wants You.” So enjoy. Stay healthy. Stay socially distant!! Don’t watch the news more than once a day! And keep wishing for those things your heart desires, because they come true!! (I mean, honestly, when was the last time you wished for an Amish guy to fix the roof of your barn and then found one??!!) (And other beautiful desires come true, too.)
Okay. I love you guys. See ya!!
“He Wants You”
In his boat and through the dark he rowed
Chained to oar and the night and the wind that blowed
Horribly ’round his ears
Under the bridge and into your dreams he soars
While you lie alone in that idea-free sleep of yours
That you’ve been sleeping now for years
And he wants you
He wants you
He is straight and he is true
Ooh hoo hoo
Beneath the hanging cliffs and under the many stars where
He will move, all amongst your tangled hair
And deep into the sea
And you will wake and walk and draw the blind
And feel some presence there behind
And turn to see what that may be
Oh, babe, it’s me
And he wants you
He wants you
He is straight and he is true
Ooh hoo hoo
I felt really pretty good yesterday. Well enough to spend a lot of time downstairs at my kitchen table. The breathing issues were hardly noticeable. I was able to have a window open all day and the fresh air really helped.
I even got dressed in order to take my trash bin to the curb and it felt really great to be in actual clothes for a while. I hadn’t been in real clothes since I ran that errand to the dollar store the other day.
I’m hoping today will be similar, but I can’t open the windows because it’s super cold again — and I think that fresh air really helped.
Anyway. Another day is upon us!!
Last evening, I began watching that movie The Lighthouse (Robert Eggers, 2019), starring Willem Dafoe and Robert Pattinson. The cinematography is incredible and the movie is delightfully creepy. I’m not done watching it yet, but so far so good. It’s streaming free on Amazon right now.
I am sort of a solitaire addict. I play it on my iPad a lot while listening to music. I find that my brain really processes things well when I’m doing that. I get a lot of thinking done while playing solitaire.
Back before things like iPads or even computers, I used to play a lot of solitaire the old-fashioned way — meaning with an actual deck of cards. Yesterday, while sitting at the kitchen table with nothing to really do, but I didn’t want to get back in bed because the weather was so beautiful and the kitchen was so sunny — I remembered that I had an actual deck of cards in a kitchen drawer, so I got them out and played solitaire at the kitchen table for awhile.
And then a whole slew of memories came back.
When I was a little girl, growing up in Cleveland, a couple times a year, my family and I would go to stay with my adoptive mom’s parents. I believe they meant well, but they were intensely controlling people — especially that particular grandmother. She was really unbelievably rigid and inflexible. (She suffered from mental illness but I didn’t know that when I was little).
They were both Russian immigrant Jews who had come to America in the early 1900s. My grandfather’s mother died in the flu pandemic of 1918, actually. My grandfather did not have much schooling. He left home and had to start working when we was only 13. But he eventually became a millionaire.
When I was growing up, my grandparents were the first people I knew who could afford a color TV and Central Air Conditioning. Going to visit them was always so intense. We had to dress for dinner and not speak unless spoken to at the dining table — the whole 9 yards.
My grandmother had this weird rule that I wasn’t allowed to get out of bed in the morning until the housekeeper had gotten up, taken her shower, and gone down to the kitchen. I have always had a bladder the size of a mustard seed, and I have always been an early riser– waking up before anyone else on Earth. So to have to lie there with a bursting bladder, for over an hour before the housekeeper got up, took a shower, got dressed, and went downstairs — it was torture for me. Absolute agony. Because wetting the bed was out of the question, too. It would have been like the Wrath of Khan x 2 (meaning first, my grandmother and then my mother, because I would have made my mother look bad).
I honestly don’t believe my grandmother meant to be abusive or anything. She just desperately needed to control everything in her home. Everything. She was afraid of the entire world, and I’m not exaggerating. (Among other things, she had severe agoraphobia.) (She was also the first person I knew who had a Camaro convertible. In 1967, my grandfather bought it for her, hoping that a sporty little car might help her want to leave the house. It didn’t. It stayed in the garage for decades, until she died and one of my male cousins inherited it. By then it was a highly valued classic car, and it was in mint condition.)
So they had money and they had a live-in housekeeper. The housekeeper was white, Christian, single, and I thought she had sort of the saddest life. I don’t know how she put up with my grandparents. She worked for them — and lived with them — her whole adult life. She died in her 60s, while still working for them. I was already living in NYC by then.
Oddly enough, the housekeeper was buried in the same cemetery where Greg was buried — my boyfriend who died when I was 14. Once, on a trip back to Ohio from NYC, I made a trip to the cemetery to visit Greg’s grave. I wasn’t 100% sure where it was, but I knew the general area.
I parked my car, got out, and started heading in the direction of Greg’s grave and then suddenly stopped. Looked down. And right there at my feet was the grave of the housekeeper!! And literally thousands of people are buried in that cemetery. I believe that in spirit, she did that. You know — she stopped me. A way of saying hello.
I always felt like she was a sort of guardian angel to me, even when she was alive. It wasn’t until I was much older that I learned she had gotten pregnant out of wedlock while working for my grandparents. She was sent to the same county home for unwed mothers that I wound up being born in a couple decades later. She gave birth to a baby girl that she gave up for adoption. (I heard that the man next door to my grandparents had been the father of the baby but I don’t know if that’s true or not.)
So, I didn’t know of that connection until I was grown and the housekeeper already had passed away. Obviously, she felt connected to me because I was a baby girl who had been adopted into the family.
Her bedroom was at the back of the upstairs hall in my grandparents house. And it was furnished with the bedroom furniture my grandparents had gotten when they’d gotten married in the 1920s. It was simple but lovely mahogany furniture. And, as was the custom back in the 1920s, it had a vanity with a mirror and a little upholstered bench. When she was taking breaks from housecleaning, I would go into her room and sit on that little bench and talk to her, while she smoked her Belair cigarettes.
She was just so sweet to me. So intensely different from my grandmother (or my mother for that matter — in fact, if you are a reader of my in-progress childhood memoir, In the Shadow of Narcissa — the first time my mother was excessively abusive to me occurred when she was trying to potty-train me. After she did what she did to me, my dad took her away on a vacation, to try to calm her down. And my grandparents’ housekeeper was sent to Cleveland to stay with me and my brother while our parents were gone. And the housekeeper had me completely potty-trained before my parents even returned from their vacation.)
Once, when I was 8, and sitting in the housekeeper’s bedroom, talking to her while she was on a break, she gave me a gold ring. She took it out of her vanity drawer and said, “Here, I want you to have it, but don’t show it to anyone, okay?”
I didn’t know it at the time, but it was real — a 10kt. gold band with real diamond chips in it. I’m guessing she wore it while she was pregnant — on her days off, when she would go downtown and go shopping. It likely kept people from thinking she was unmarried and pregnant, which was incredibly scandalous in the 1940s. (In my teens, one of my girlfriends got pregnant and I gave her the ring for the same reason — so that she could wear it in public and people wouldn’t think she was unmarried and pregnant. But at that point, I didn’t yet know that the housekeeper had ever been pregnant.)
Well, my point is that, during the evenings, when all the dinner dishes were done and put away, the housekeeper would sit alone at the kitchen table and play solitaire for hours, until it was time for her to go to bed. Whenever we’d be visiting, I always liked to sit at the kitchen table with her and watch her play until it was my bedtime. She taught me how to play, in fact.
So, yesterday, sitting at my own kitchen table — almost as old now as she was when she died — playing solitaire the old-fashioned way… well, all those memories came back. She’s been gone about 35 years already. (Oh, and just FYI — each time I’ve been out to the cemetery to visit Greg’s grave since then, I have looked for the housekeeper’s grave again and have not been able to find it!!)
All righty. Well, here’s hoping that I continue to breathe sort of normally today. Two days in a row would be so cool! I hope you have a good Wednesday, wherever you are in the world. I leave you with my late-night/breakfast-listening music: “Moonland,” by Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds. Oddly enough, YouTube told me to start listening to it yesterday. I got an alert first on my iPhone, then on my laptop, and then on my iPad. It was the strangestly persistent thing. So I started listening to it yesterday on YouTube (which is not how I usually listen to it).
But anyway. It is from their 2008 album Dig!!! Lazarus, Dig!!! — another album that I absolutely love. I really, really do. It has some amazing songs on it. (Apparently, the song was also in the second season of the TV show Californication, which I also loved!)
Okay, well, thanks for visiting, gang. Stay healthy. Stay hopeful. I love you guys. See ya!
“Moonland”
When I came up from out of the meat locker
The city was gone
The sky was full of lights
The snow provided a silent cover
In moonland
Under the stars
Under the snow
And I followed this car
And I followed that car
Through the sand
Through the snow
I turn on the radio
I listen to the DJ
And it must feel nice
(It must feel nice)
It must feel nice to know
That somebody needs you
And everything moves slow
Under the stars, under the ash, under the sand
And the night drifts in
The snow provided a silent cover
And I’m not your favourite lover
I turn on the radio
And it must feel nice
(It must feel nice)
Oh, very, very nice to know
That somebody needs you
And the chilly winds blow
Under the snow, under the stars
The whispering DJ on the radio
The whispering DJ on the radio
I’m not your favourite lover
I’m not your favourite lover
And it must feel nice
(It must feel nice)
To leave no trace
That somebody needs you
And that somebody is me
Under the stars, under the snow
Your eyes were closed
You were playing with the buttons on your coat
In the back of that car
In moonland
Under the stars
In moonland
And I followed that car
Yes, well. I am sort of reduced to telling you about the weather here every day, because I’m not doing a whole lot right now with which to regale you.
However, it is a sunny day here again — a little chilly, though, and very windy.
So there you have it!
And this also gives you an idea of every single morning phone call I have with my dad now, too. But in his case, he’s kind of depressed, so when the weather looks rainy and likely to keep him from taking his walk and being able to chat with other people in his assisted living compound, it turns into a long, depressing day for him. So the weather has become a huge deal.
I, of course, love the sunny mild days so that I can open the windows for the cats — they love that so fucking much; it’s almost what I live for. But other than that, I don’t care that much about the specific weather, because I love all weather. I get a little anxious when it’s super windy and pieces of the roof of my barn go soaring away. Or if we get a torrential downpour with high winds, then it grieves me to find pieces of the bathroom ceiling on the bathroom floor. Other than that, I’m just a big fan of weather.
Anyway. So now I’ve talked about the weather. (Oh, and that reminds me, there was a really funny video on TikTok that I saw this morning by @TylerJarry — “When Dads talk about the weather.” It was just hysterical. I think his videos are always really funny — such intensely silly stuff about suburban parents that is so spot-on.) Well, it felt good to laugh out loud.
Yesterday was a rough day for me. I had such high hopes for it, but by early afternoon, I was back in bed, with more difficulty breathing. And even though I try so hard to be optimistic and upbeat and all that crap — I finally just broke down and cried. I am just so fucking sick of this virus. It is now 18 days.
I know I have it better than so many people — and aside from the breathing, my life is actually kind of perfect. So I hate to resort to tears, but yesterday, I had just had it.
I’m trying again today, though. So we shall see. I’m supposed to work with Peitor on Abstract Absurdity Productions stuff. I’m breathing pretty good right now, so I hope it stays that way by this afternoon.
Well, I watched the first episode of “Dummy” on Quibi yesterday (the comedy about the woman who becomes friends with her boyfriend’s AI sex doll). There were things about it that I liked, so I’ll keep watching it to give it a chance. But even though the show was created by and written by a woman (Cody Heller), I really just hate when smutty dialogue is passed off as “empowering to women.”
After having lived most of my adult life in various areas of the sex industry, I know for a fact that women can talk about sex and their identities relating to sex, and be frank and open and maybe even talk like a sailor, without actually being “smutty,” you know? I don’t think that speaking coarse about sex empowers women at all.
But it was only the first episode, so we shall see.
I’m still a big fan of “Agua Donkeys”, though. That show cracks me up. (And the writing on that show actually does empower women.)
Nick Cave sent out a Red Hand Files letter today. It’s about his song, “Palaces of Montezuma,” on the Grinderman 2 album. It’s a song I really love — and I think I’ve posted it here on the blog a couple of times. But in his letter today, he drew a comparison between that song and Lou Reed’s song, “Andy’s Chest,” — from the Transformer album. And I’m really surprised that I had never seen the similarities before, but they are indeed there. So very interesting.
Many decades ago — particularly during the years when I lived in the hellhole tenement on E. 12th Street in the East Village — I played that record Transformer a lot. But oddly enough, I am not a fan of Andy Warhol, so I think I probably blocked out “Andy’s Chest”(which was written for Andy Warhol).
I met Andy Warhol a number of times at art gallery-type functions in NYC. And I also worked at the Museum of Modern Art, and met him there, too. I didn’t know him, or anything. I simply “met” him — repeatedly. And he always seemed really, really nice. He really did. And I sort of appreciated his approach to his Pop Art paintings. And I did see a number of his movies in cinemas in NYC. And I bought his (often expensive) books.
But I still kept feeling that his forte was exploiting people when they were vulnerable. And I’m guessing that a whole lot of those people wanted to be exploited — still. It just felt like a no-brainer to me, you know? Is exploiting people actually art? I honestly don’t know the true answer to that. Defining “art” gets murky indeed.
But it was still sort of bittersweet to hear all those other songs on Transformer this morning. Songs that I used to just love that I had kind of forgotten about because eventually I wound up gravitating more to some of those amazing albums he did in the 1980s. But to hear Transformer again — it was that repeated feeling of: Oh my god, I know every single word to this song… and trying to remember when that had happened. At what point had I memorized every word? And at what point did I move on?
Anyway. If you’d like to read Nick Cave’s comments about his song “Palaces of Montezuma,” it’s at that link above. (Or here, to make it easier.)
Well, truth be told, I had a very slow start this morning because I had some trouble getting out of bed. And so I’m posting this a lot later in the morning than I usually post, so I’m going to get going here. I hope you have a terrific Tuesday, wherever you are in the world. I hope you’re staying hopeful and healthy, and getting a good grip on the weather!
I leave you with my breakfast-listening music from this morning. I hadn’t listened to this song in a really long time, but I always loved it. It’s such a great song to listen to when you want to feel hopeless about love! However, today it came to mind because of the lyric “somebody can’t breathe” — and I’m guessing you can figure out why that specific lyric popped into my fucking head!!!
And on that note… Thanks for visiting, gang. I love you guys. See ya!
“Somebody’s Me”
You, do you remember me
Like I remember you?
Do you spend your life
Going back in your mind to that time?
‘Cause I, I walk the streets alone
I hate being on my own
And everyone can see that I really fell
And I’m going through hell
Thinking about you with somebody else
Somebody wants you
Somebody needs you
Somebody dreams about you every single night
Somebody can’t breathe, without you it’s lonely
Somebody hopes that one day you will see
That somebody’s me
That somebody’s me
Yeah
How, how did we go wrong?
It was so good and now it’s gone
And I pray at night that our paths soon will cross
And what we had isn’t lost
‘Cause you’re always right here in my thoughts
Somebody wants you
Somebody needs you
Somebody dreams about you every single night
Somebody can’t breathe, without you it’s lonely
Somebody hopes that someday you will see
That somebody’s me
Oh, yeah
You will always be in my life
Even if I’m not in your life
‘Cause you’re in my memory
You, when you remember me
And before you set me free
Oh, listen please
Somebody wants you
Somebody needs you
Somebody dreams about you every single night
Somebody can’t breathe, without you it’s lonely
Somebody hopes that someday you will see
That somebody’s me
Somebody’s me
Somebody’s me
Somebody’s me
I’m hoping that if I can focus on something besides every single solitary thought that’s in my head, it will help me get better. We’ll see.
I know I don’t have pneumonia, because I feel absolutely perfectly fine except for this inability to breathe normally. If I lie perfectly still in bed, I breathe normally. And in fact, I sleep great. I’m feeling absolutely fine. But as soon as I get out of bed and start moving around, the out-of-breath thing starts in again and I am just so fucking tired of it. This is Day 17 already.
Anyway.
I’m still loving Vienna Blood (PBS) but I am already halfway through the final episode. I hope they are going to plan on making a Season 2. The writing is a tiny bit uneven, because I feel like they’re trying to cram too much plot from the novels into a 45-minute episode, which means suddenly a chunk of dialogue will happen that is purely exposition and it kind of sticks out from the rest of the story. But it’s negligible, and if you aren’t a writer, you might not even notice it at all. It does make me want to read the novels, though. (Vienna Blood is based on the Max Lieberman novels by Frank Tallis.)
And actually on a similar note… I am seriously considering just starting my own small press again. I mentioned this in a post a few days ago. But now I’m actually really thinking about it. First, just to put into Print on Demand my own titles, and then maybe consider publishing other writers who are super fringe. I have to really think about it, though, because it would mean looking into actual distribution and marketing if I published other writers, too. And I’m already — virus notwithstanding — a tad bit busy.
I’ve been wanting to get Twilight of the Immortal back into print with an updated cover, instead of just having it as an eBook. And then publish Blessed by Light, In the Shadow of Narcissa, Girl in the Night: Erotic Love Letters to the Muse, Thug Luckless: Welcome to P-Town, Down to the Meadows of Sleep: The Hurley Falls Mystery, and maybe do Print on Demand editions of The Muse Revisited collection, and finally clean up all the typos in those specific eBook collections.
Part of the allure of it is knowing that I don’t have to worry about the content and how it would fit into someone else’s marketing agenda. I can make it as hardcore as I want (without going off into those areas where I’m looking at prison time again, of course…) The main problem with most of my work has always been that it’s both too literary and too erotic. And now it needs to be one or the other to appease most small presses these days. (Plus, I’ve gotten just ridiculously tired of waiting to hear back from other small presses who simply just never get back to you.)
So I’m really considering it. The investment is in the cover design, but other than that, the cost to produce each book is negligible. Between my popularity among international book piraters and the state of small presses now, I don’t know that it even makes financial sense to give up a portion of my rights to small presses anymore. Better to give a cut to the actual printer (what’s left after hemorrhaging potential profits to book pirating, I mean) and then just try to arrange readings when I’m off hither and yon doing the various film & theater projects.
Which reminds me that the other play I’m doing with Sandra (with the fluctuating title) that’s being produced in Toronto, has been pushed from this Fall off to the misty glades of 2021. So I’m guessing it will premiere on June 3rd, when I’ll be with my new friends in Switzerland to see Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds…
(As usual, I sure hope I’m kidding about that.)
Okay. Well. It is going to be a really gorgeous day here today. It was pretty yesterday, but it was cold. Today, it is going to be super sunny and really mild. I can probably open some windows around here, which always makes me so happy!!
And I am hoping to spend less time in bed today. I really am. I so want to be past this virus and start writing again. We shall see.
I hope you guys are all in a good space on this wonderful Monday in Pandemic Land. I’m gonna go finish up the laundry now, check in with my dad, get another cup of coffee. Thanks for visiting, gang! I leave you with some very fun Ringo Starr music from I don’t even remember when — the 1970s? “The No No Song,” which of course, I can attest to now, but when it was an actual hit, I was quite far from it… (if you don’t know what the heck I’m talking about, you gotta listen to the song! The lyrics are in the video, gang!) Okay. Enjoy!! I love you guys. See ya!
Okay, I don’t know that the morning is actually “sexy,” but it’s still just a really frisky morning here. Sunshiney beyond belief. Trees everywhere coming more and more into their new leaves. Promising that Summer is just around the corner, gang!
My lawncare guys still have not come out yet because it’s been mostly rainy and still really cold. But I know that really soon, they’re gonna come out here and my lawn is going to look like everyone else’s in the town — meaning not a complete overgrown, weed-strewn disaster.
And then I can once again look out my kitchen window and feel really blissful, instead of really paranoid –knowing that everyone in this town — virus or no virus — is wondering: What the fuck is her deal, anyway? Why doesn’t she cut her fucking grass like the rest of us do? If she wasn’t planning on cutting her fucking grass, why’d she go and buy the one house in the center of town that has the biggest fucking lawn? It makes no sense. And have you noticed that every single fucking window in that house has a different cat sittin’ in it? I mean, really – what the fuck is her deal?
OTHER (very 420-friendly) GUY SITTING IN THE SAME TRUCK: “I heard she comes from New York City. Some kinda writer.”
FIRST (420-friendly) GUY: “New York City?! Shit. There ya go. That says it right there.”
But, you know – keep a tidy lawn and no one thinks twice about you.
And I have made up my mind that this year, I’ll just buy the darn chainsaw myself — the one that the lawn guys need in order to get rid of that dead oak tree that’s in a heap back by my barn. And then they can just keep the darn chainsaw. I mean, I’ll still pay them to do the work because it is going to be a fucking nightmare to get rid of that thing. But perhaps the “parting gift” of the actual chainsaw will finally get rid of that enormous dead tree that has been sitting there now in that heap for a few years, keeping me from being able to really fix my barn.) (Because everyone who promises to come out and deal with that tree — and get paid to do it –never does.)
But guys love power tools, right? So we’ll see… I’m hopeful, anyway.
Well, yesterday, I went to the dollar store! I ran an actual errand and it felt really good. And even though I still spent most of the rest of the day in bad, I wasn’t tired out from the little excursion. I really, really think I am just about over the residual stuff from the virus.
And yesterday, I started streaming Vienna Blood on PBS Passport (From UK/Austria, 2019). About a student of Freud and a police inspector who solve murders in Vienna in the early 1900s. It is really fun. I’m sure I’ll devour it in a heartbeat, though — there are only 6 episodes, total.
And, sadly, the next new season of Endeavor won’t happen until the summer of 2021! I’m guessing, they mean it will begin streaming the very moment Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds begin their re-scheduled Ghosteen concert in Zurich. And that I’ll be forced to watch the premiere episode on my phone while also trying to watch the Bad Seeds onstage in front of me.
And my Swiss friends will say, “Marilyn, you came all the way to Switzerland to see this show, can’t you put your phone away?”
ME (pulling out one ear bud): “But it’s Endeavor. There hasn’t been a new season in two fucking years, man.”
Yeah, right!!
Anyway. Okay.
I am going to get going here and continue on with my sexy beautiful morning (even though I still smell like Vick’s Vapo-Rub). I hope you have a nice Sunday, wherever you are in the world. Stay hopeful!! Summer will get here before you know it and even though everything imaginable will have changed, soon enough it will be better than ever before.
I was still listening to Elvis Presley and “Can’t Help falling in Love With You,” this morning, so I leave you with last night’s listening music, as I was drifting off to dreamland: “To Be By Your Side” by Nick Cave. It is from the Winged Migration soundtrack, 2018. Okay. Thanks for visiting, gang. I love you guys. See ya!
“To Be By Your Side”
Across the oceans, across the seas
Over forests of blackened trees
Through valleys so still we dare not breathe
To be by your side
Over the shifting desert plains
Across mountains all in flames
Through howling winds and driving rains
To be by your side
Every mile and every year
For every one a little tear
I cannot explain this, Dear
I will not even try
Into the night as the stars collide
Across the borders that divide
Forests of stone standing petrified
To be by your side
Every mile and every year
For every one a single tear
I cannot explain this, Dear
I will not even try
[Chorus]
For I know one thing
Love comes on a wing
For tonight I will be by your side
But tomorrow I will fly
From the deepest ocean To the highest peak
Through the frontiers of your sleep
Into the valley where we dare not speak
To be by your side
Across the endless wilderness
Where all the beasts bow down their heads
Darling I will never rest
Till I am by your side
Every mile and every year
Time and Distance disappear
I cannot explain this, Dear
No, I will not even try
[Chorus]
And I know just one thing
Love comes on a wing
And tonight I will be by your side
But tomorrow I will fly
Away
Love rises with the day
And tonight I may be by your side
But tomorrow I will fly
Tomorrow I will fly
Tomorrow I will fly
The sun has just now sprung from behind some clouds that have been hanging around, raining on us, for a couple of days now. According to my phone, with it’s long line of sun icons scrolling horizontally across the screen, we’re gonna have sun all day today.
I sure hope so. I could use some.
First, I want to mention that Bob Dylan dropped another new song during the night. This one titled, “I Contain Multitudes.” I have only listened to it once so far, and I was doing something else while listening to it, so I can’t really give an opinion yet, but it did have some startling lyrics, especially near the end. You can, of course, listen to it yourself wherever you stream your music, and decide for yourself. Why wait for me to be in my right mind? After all, that could be a long wait!
Yesterday was a very strange day. I was supposed to work with Peitor on Abstract Absurdity stuff, and right before I expected him to call, he texted me a really, really funny little cat video. And I mean, it was really funny. I texted him back. Then waited for his call. And he never, ever called.
I’m guessing he was not in the mood to work so I let it alone. I have no idea if he’ll want to work today or not.
Today, I am ambivalent. I’m just gonna let the day come however it wants to. I might stream that benefit concert tonight, at least for a little bit to see what it’s like. But honestly, even though they’re comparing it to the Live Aid concert back in 1985, it doesn’t feel to me like it’s anything close to that. I could be intensely jaded now — lo, these decades later — but it feels more to me like a bunch of really famous people getting tired of sitting at home like everyone else.
And guess what? 35 days into my quarantine, and 15 days into the incomparable virus experience — I’m going to the dollar store today! To run an errand!! From everything I have been able to discern online from the Health Department — from no one who knows for sure — after waiting 8 days after the symptoms of the virus are over, it is safe to go outside, but still practice social distancing, etc.
(I actually love social distancing, gang. I am one of those introverted writers who actually prefers that 98.2% of all people everywhere maintain a noticeable distance from me. I can’t help it. But if you’re part of those 1.8% of all people everywhere that I actually adore, then I get extremely upset when you are not constantly in my field of vision.) (Oh, and I’m not kidding.)
Last evening, I watched some short subject films on Short of the Week. Doing my weekly research on that site, and I watched an animated short that I had meant to watch last week and forgot. Oh my god, was it good!! An animated, sci-fi, coming of age , quasi- space exploration story called, “Finding Uranus,” by Ivan Li. It is completely adult content, in the best fucking way. I totally loved it. (If you use a translator to read this site, “Finding Uranus” is a play on words: it’s partly about going into outer space to find the planet called Uranus, but it is actually about a young guy jerking off to a virtual reality thing that turns him into a tiny astronaut that goes off into space and then up exploring into some gigantic star constellation-gal’s anus.)
Well, it was too cool. It might be offensive to you, but it might not. You can watch the vimeo of it here. It’s animated and about 7 minutes long. (The guy who made it is still only in art school or something scary like that.)
I also voted yesterday! Yes, because of the State going into lockdown right before the Primary election last month, no one was allowed to vote, so my ballot to vote from home arrived yesterday. A Primary election means that you can only vote within your chosen Party. And since I live in such a sparsely populated county, there was basically only one person running for each office within my chosen Political Party, so it felt a little superfluous — but hey, I voted! Plenty of Suffragettes suffered horrific atrocities and indignities to secure the Vote for Women, so I’m gonna vote. And I did. But it is really weird now — I’m so much older than a lot of the people running for political offices, so I was voting for people with names like Mollie and Cindy. I mean — that’s so weird. I felt like I was voting for 6-year-old girls.
Anyway. I’m sure that Mollie and Cindy will have everything all over Muskingum County under complete control.
I went to sleep kind of depressed last night, because of the combined issues of wanting to get back to my desk and really work, but not having enough energy or brain power to really do that yet, and also being someone who identifies way too personally with my work, so when I go this long without working/creating/writing, I start to lose my ability to understand who I am.
So I thought it best to just go to sleep and reset myself emotionally. But I awoke at 2:30am, feeling intensely sad. And I just couldn’t shake it, and at the same time, I couldn’t really understand it. Because, even though I am having to stay in bed a lot right now, still, my life is just so incredibly good. It didn’t make sense to feel so sad.
And I laid there like that for over an hour, and then suddenly got on Instagram and saw that someone I care about very much had just posted something and did in fact seem to be extremely sad — he seemed overcome with dealing with too much loss today, all across the board, really. And then I realized: Oh my god, that’s why I was so sad. And it broke my heart because there is absolutely nothing I can do, you know? I cried a little bit. That feeling of emotional impotence, when someone you love is suffering, far, far away. There’s nothing you can do to change anything. And anything you want to try to say just seems too obvious, you know?
I finally forced myself to get out of bed and feed the remarkably happy cats, and I tried to tell myself that at the core of us, each of us, is Spirit, and Spirit — that great Creative Source, whatever it actually is — is a foundation of energy that is pure, positive love. And so at least I have to believe in that, right? That love somehow makes sense of everything for all of us, at some point. Somehow.
And so then I felt like listening to Elvis — “I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You.” So I played that while feeding the cats (and myself), and it was so odd because one of the cats — Lucie — who is so emotional and so docile and so beautiful, was making these intense expressions that seemed to be in response to Elvis’s singing. I know she really wasn’t doing that, but it was just sort of uncanny. And she made me smile.
Okay. I’m going to get my Saturday underway over here. I hope my journey to the store is uneventful and yet eventful at the same time — in all the best “I’m finally out of my house during a pandemic”kind of way. I hope the sun really does stay out all day today. I hope I don’t have to yet again spend most of this day in bed. I hope I lighten up on myself and stop worrying about never writing again.
Today would have been the start of the European leg of the Ghosteen tour for Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds — in Lisbon. In honor of that postponement, I leave you with my favorite Mark Kozelek song, “I Love Portugal.”
I, in fact, love so many songs that Mark Kozelek has written — including a killer and very, very accurate, heartbreaking song about Ohio, called “God Bless Ohio” — but I still keep coming back to this acoustic version of “I Love Portugal” as my favorite. And I think it’s actually quite appropriate, on several levels, for today. So I leave you with it, along with its 17 hundred million lyrics. Enjoy, gang. Thanks for visiting. I love you guys. See ya.
“I Love Portugal”
In my hotel where the band is staying
I’m on dessert but what I’d give to not get on that plane
Woke to the sound of birds calling and I wanna water the flowers in the garden
And the maid scooting her tray around the echoey hall
I just want to stay in Porto today, that’s all
‘Cause when I’m here there’s a sense of calm
People living day to day and enjoying the moment
Last night we found a cozy place and we listened to fado music and we ate steak
And bacalhau and caldo verde
Then we went and got gelato and we drank iced lattes
And the fans have always shown me love (shown me love)
And so have my friends Vasco, Miguel, and Nadia, and Monica (Nadia and Monica)
I can’t complain, I get to visit every year
Last night my driver said my music brought him to tears
I love Portugal, I love Portugal, oh, oh
I love Portugal
I love Portugal, I love Portugal, oh, oh
I love Portugal
I love Portugal, I love Portugal, oh, oh
I love Portugal
I love Portugal, I love Portugal, oh, oh
I love Portugal
Was listening to Mahavishnu Orchestra’s “Liala’s Dance”
As I drifted off into rare afternoon nap
Yesterday, one shot in Minnesota, one in Baton Rouge, and then retaliation in Dallas
Someone shot and killed five cops
And the cops came back and killed that sniper with a robot
But all was peaceful here at the Seculo Hotel in the Bonfim neighborhood of Porto
Now I’m on my way to Zürich at Gate 35
TAP operated by Swiss Airlines
I miss my quiet day in Porto, sleeping and listening to the many birds sing
And the shoe store that I wanted to shop in
Was closed and, man, it pissed me off
As we drove by twice on the way to soundcheck and on the way to the hotel that night
I’m gonna return some day, I know it (some day)
I’m gonna buy me a home looking over the river in Porto (river in Porto)
Gonna get me a plate of melon and prosciutto and grilled sardines, a cup of coffee, and a bowl of gazpacho (bowl of gazpacho)
The USA can’t pull the guns from the trolls of the country I live in
Can’t get a grip on gun control
If we’re gonna live with a president who’s a huge fucking asshole
Then believe me, baby, I’m gonna buy me a home in Portugal
I love Portugal, I love Portugal, oh, oh
Where the people don’t walk
I love Portugal
They just stroll
I love Portugal, I love Portugal, oh, oh
Where the people go to bars, relax
I love Portugal
And listen to fado
I love Portugal, I love Portugal, oh, oh
Where I feel at peace from my
I love Portugal
Head to my toe
I love Portugal, I love Portugal, oh, oh
Particularly I love the city of Porto
I love Portugal
At the Rothaus, Room 301, in Zurich
The Bern show is cancelled tomorrow night due to violence and a bunch of crazy shit
It’s found its way into the venue
I’m not going to sing about it
I’m just gonna read the statement from the promoter to you
“Dear Mark, Dear all at Sun Kil Moon
I have really, really, really bad news. We’re deeply afraid but see ourselves in circumstances that unfortunately urge us to have to cancel. The Sun Kil Moon show at Dachstock Reitschule, Bern, the open space in front of our house Reitschule, Bern is causing increasing troubles with violence and sexes. An organized drug dealer and the [?] we decided to shut the place down and its ongoing activities. For a while, at least ten days, or maybe longer and find a way of how to deal with our society’s problems erupted in front of our house, creating a rather explosive atmosphere at times in front of our house. We’re very sorry that due to this reaction the show with Sun Kil Moon will have to be cancelled. As we’re in general enforcing this temporary shutdown, apologies for any inconveniences to you, I know your band just got into town. Of course we’re gonna pay full agreed guaranteed fee as well as covering your hotel for 12/7/16. Also tickets will be reimbursed, it can be used to see your show tonight in Zürich. We strongly hope you reschedule your concert in Bern next time your band is touring in Europe. Reitschule remains closed until further notice. Again, my deepest apologies, but it’s totally out of my control. Let me know if you need any more info
Sincerely, your promoter at Breathing Hope.”
I love Portugal, I love Portugal, oh, oh
And the sparkling Douro River estuary
I love Portugal
I love Portugal, I love Portugal, oh, oh
And when I die I want some of my ashes spread there
I love Portugal
And skip the Hail Mary
I love Portugal, I love Portugal, oh, oh
I’m gonna back next year and I’m gonna find that same shoe store
I love Portugal
I love Portugal, I love Portugal, oh, oh
It’s gotta be somewhere between the venue and the Fnac bookstore
I love Portugal
I love Portugal, I love Portugal, oh, oh
And it doesn’t have a goddamned thing to do with football
I love Portugal
I love Portugal, I love Portugal, oh, oh
I love Portugal
I love Portugal
Marilyn's Room 