Tag Archives: Abstract Absurdity Productions

A Foggy Little Morning In Crazeysburg!

Yep, that’s a 1954 powder blue pickup! I guess you can tell what I’ve been doing nonstop around here — writing that novella! (1954 Powder Blue Pickup)

It is now at 20,000 words, and I won’t say that “there is no end in sight” but there is still a lot to get down on paper, so I’m thinking it could be 30,000 words by the time it’s finished.

I just find this all so fascinating. I was well into writing the new novel, Thug Luckless: Welcome to P-Town, when I suddenly began writing 3 new erotic stories in a row: “Score,” “Half-Moon Bride,” and now  1954 Powder Blue Pickup — totaling 37,000 words (so far).

That is quite a sudden deluge — to break away from a novel and have all that stuff start pouring out. I’m not complaining, though. It has been so much fun.

And just as an update — Abstract Absurdity Productions is still on hiatus. Not just because I’m suddenly writing all this other unexpected stuff, plus still trying to get the final print edition for The Guitar Hero Goes Home to look right, but also because Peitor’s been dealing with horrendous weather conditions in Los Angeles (horrible wild fires, which also cause smoke and smog, and a heat wave hovering around 115 degrees Fahrenheit), plus he has a whole crop of new records and new singers that are getting released, and he’s gone down to Laguna Beach to try to get a break from all of it.

But as soon as life gets sort of back to something that feels like normal, we will resume production.

Meanwhile, I’m just enjoying the uninterrupted hours and hours and hours of working on the new story while I can.

And that’s pretty much all that’s going on right now. So I’m gonna get some yoga done here and then get back to the new story.

I hope that you have a thoroughly terrific Thursday underway, wherever you are in the world. Thanks for visiting. I leave you with my breakfast-listening music from this morning — in my opinion, it’s the best song Dwight Yoakam has ever written, even though he has written a lot of great songs. But this one is my favorite: “Buenas Noches From A Lonely Room” from his massively popular album of the same name from 1988. And featuring the amazing Flaco Jiménez on accordion.

Flaco Jiménez is one of the true  mainstays of Tejano music and was also a member of that incredible super-group of Texan musicians, The Texas Tornadoes!! I loved those guys.

(In fact, I will add the incredible version of “Across the Borderline” that  Flaco Jiménez recorded with John Hiatt back in the early 90s, on his album Partners, just for your listening pleasure!) (The song was written by Ry Cooder, John Hiatt, and Jim Dickinson, sometime in the 1980s, and you probably know it because everyone imaginable has recorded it but Flaco’s is, hands down, my favorite version.)

Okay, and I will also add a delightfully dirty little Tejano song by The Texas Tornadoes, “Who Were You Thinking Of When We Were Making Love Last Night?” from the late 1980s, as well.

Okay, gang. Enjoy, enjoy, enjoy!!  I love you guys. See ya!!

 

“Buenas Noches From A Lonely Room”

She wore red dresses
with her black shining hair
She had my baby
and caused me to care
Then coldly she left me
to suffer and cry
Oh, she wore red dresses
and told such sweet lies

I never knew him
but he took her away
On my knees like a madman
for vengeance I prayed
While the pain and the anger
destroyed my weak mind
She wore red dresses
and left the wounded behind

I searched til I found them,
then I cursed at the sight
Of their sleeping shadows
in the cold neon light
In the dark morning silence
I placed the gun to her head
Oh, she wore red dresses,
but now she lay dead…

© 1988 Dwight Yoakam

Perfect Treadmill Weather!!

Yes, it is the most beautiful Sunday morning here in Crazeysburg, gang. 60 degrees Fahrenheit and sunny!! And going up to 80 by this afternoon!

So I indeed got on the treadmill this morning (see yesterday’s post re: 98% humidity…) and you know what else? The first 2 minutes felt endless, but then suddenly I had actually gone over the allotted time without even knowing it.

With me and this treadmill that is unheard of!! I don’t know if I ever mentioned that not only does the treadmill get you off and running walking at  a brisk and often unwelcome 3.2 miles an hour, but it is also set on a permanent incline, so regardless of anything, you  are always walking slightly uphill. Always. I think that’s the hardest part of this treadmill. Because usually, I really enjoy treadmills. But this one I now have — it just always makes you fucking work.

Anyway! It’s done!!

I forgot to mention the other day that there is another new poster available at CaveThings.com — it is “Ink and Solace,” the image being used for his current exhibit in Copenhagen, including the cover for that great book that is the companion to the exhibit (Stranger Than Kindness). The poster is £10 plus shipping.

You can purchase it here if you so choose!!

Yesterday got us ever closer to completing the new erotic short story, “Half-Moon Bride,” however, I did run out of printer ink and loyal readers of this lofty blog no doubt recall that I hate that! For some reason, it is much easier for me to catch typos, as well as get an overall feel for a page of text, by printing it out.

It’s by no means the end of the world!!! I can still read straight from the computer screen, it just makes me feel unsettled to have to do that. But the ink won’t get here until Tuesday…

However, on we go!!

So no, I’m still not done, but we’re getting there. I have decided to have the new erotic stories not only available for download on the upcoming MarilynsRoomBooks.com website (which will be processed by Lulu, which accepts Paypal, Apple Pay, Google Pay, Shopify, and CC);, but also (free) on Kindle Unlimited, and then also on Smashwords, which offers pretty much every eReader format there is. All short stories will be .99¢ everywhere (basically the lowest price you’re allowed to use), except for Kindle Unlimited. obviously, which is free.

I will post free excerpts here, so you can find out beforehand if you want to read the whole story. And when the stories are really short, I will offer 2 or 3 in the same download.

So that’s the plan for the new erotic short stories!

And any moment, the new novel, The Guitar Hero Goes Home, will be ready for its test print!! So we are most definitely moving along.

Well, not much is actually going on here right now, besides phone calls with Valerie, and then spending hours at my desk, working. The new script work for Abstract Absurdity Productions is on hold until I can at least get the new novel out in the marketplace (which also means setting up that new Marilyn’s Room Books website). (I know — I always have 1700 things on my plate at once.)  But, you know, it’s the end of summer here and things, in general, are slowing down. Ab Ab Pro will pick up again in September.

All right. Well, I hope it’s as beautiful where you are today as it is here in Crazeysburg. Enjoy your Sunday, wherever you are in the world!! Thanks for visiting. I leave you with my breakfast-listening music from this morning, “This Game of Love” (2020), a stunning song from Mark Lanegan’s Straight Songs of Sorrow (2020). He sings a duet with his wife, Shelley Brien, on this one. It’s beautiful — hypnotic. Okay. Have a good day, people!! I love you guys. See ya.

“This Game Of Love”

Don’t let me burn like this
Save me from the fire
I know the art of loneliness
I see straight down the wire
I see straight down the wire
See straight down the wire

Free my soul of emptiness
I know the taste of sorrow
Tonight I am delirious
I live to play tomorrow
Live to play tomorrow
Live to play tomorrow
I live to play tomorrow

I came in to this town
No comfort or peace of mind
Just as the rain came down
I swear I don’t wanna lose this time

Gonna take my rightful place
In the sun high heaven above
Or there’ll be hell to pay
Am I gonna lose this game of love?

Now I lay me down to rest
Cold ground up against my back
Time and again I failed a test
As painful as a heart attack
As painful as a heart attack
As painful as a heart attack
As painful as a heart attack

Don’t make me burn like this
I know the art of loneliness
Free my soul of emptiness
Pull me from the fire

I stepped down off the train
Not looking to do no harm
Just book a room someplace
And hold devotion and warmth in between my arms
Devotion and warmth
Devotion and warmth
Devotion and warmth in between my arms
But the to and the fro
The wrath and the sloth
The back and the forth took my world apart

Lord I’ll take my place
In the sun high heaven above
Or there’ll be hell to pay
Am I gonna lose this game of love?
Am I gonna, gonna lose
Am I gonna lose this game of love?
Am I gonna lose
Am I gonna lose this game of love?
Am I gonna, gonna lose
Am I gonna lose this game of love?
Am I gonna lose
Am I gonna lose this game of love?

© 2020 Mark Lanegan

All the Joys of Getting There!!

Yes, yes, yes!! I am almost done with the manuscript side of things; now just waiting for Valerie to finish up the cover art layout. Then I have to run a test print of the book, and THEN …

The Guitar Hero Goes Home will get published. Finally. Yay!!

And then I can focus on finishing up the other 4 (FOUR!!!) books that are in one or another stages of progress around here.

And then, at some point in the not-yet-foreseeable future, I’m going to finish writing Down to the Meadows of Sleep, but that novel is way on the back burner for now. Even though I  love it. But it is a magic realism murder mystery, and in order to make it truly work, I need to give it 110% of my attention. And right now, I have about .006% of attention to give anything on any given day.

Okay!! Don’t get jealous or anything, but here are my current reading materials!! Combined, they come to about 1000 pages of dry boring informative reading!!

These slim pamphlets were recommended by the entertainment attorneys who taught that recent webinar I took on equity financing vs. debt financing for securing film funding, etc., regarding Abstract Absurdity Productions.

You can’t tell from the angle of this photo, but both books are, well — not slender at all.

(I hope this doesn’t disappoint you, or anything, but I actually do love reading books like this. So I’m looking forward to tackling them.)

Okay, onward to other topics!!

I don’t know if you’re into Russell Brand or not, but he has a channel on YouTube and on Instagram where basically he just gives his opinion on things, and I actually really enjoy watching it. I guess because I almost always agree with him — funny how easy it is to enjoy people you agree with!

His current installment is about the WAP video with Cardi B. and Megan Thee Stallion. I’ve posted the Russell Brand video down below today.

If you haven’t seen the WAP video, it’s gotten some people really upset — calling it porn and saying it’s sending women’s empowerment back one million years, etc.

It’s not a type of music I enjoy listening to– regardless of the gender identification of whoever’s singing it– and being a hardcore fan of hardcore porn, I’d rather just watch (hardcore) porn.

But to me, the WAP video is just plain old commercialism with an emphasis on Capitalist extremism. It isn’t even art.  I look at a video like that, and I don’t really see the reason to get so upset. All they want is for your testosterone to hit your wallet somehow — and preferably as quickly as possible. That’s it. You know, stop looking if it’s bothering you.

For me, the only way that video would upset me is if I was being, for some reason, forced to watch it rather than being allowed to watch a million other things on Pornhub. Then I’d be super upset. But I did indeed like Russell Brand’s take on it. (I think I’m way more of a Capitalist than he is, but still, I agreed with him.)

All right! So on to the very best news imaginable — I hope it’s not too soon to say this!! But this fall (somewhere around late September to mid-October) a theater production company based in Harlem will be producing a live stream staged reading of my play, Tell My Bones. Finally!!!!!!

I am so excited, gang, I cannot even tell you!! The production company is Harlem Shakespeare Festival (aka Take Wing and Soar Productions). They primarily fund all-black productions of Shakespeare and other classics, but they are producing a reading of my play under their auspices, and the woman who runs the company will be reading the role of Helen LaFrance (Sandra decided a few months back that she  wanted to read the role of Wanda — the character that has the new (old) song about lynchings, which left the Helen role wide-open and available for somebody awesome).

I am just so excited. I will keep you posted. And I hope you’ll buy a ticket to watch the streaming event, if it streams in the country you live in.

Okay. I guess I better scoot and get back to work on the manuscript. I should have it totally completed today. I hope you enjoy your Saturday, wherever you are in the world. Thanks for visiting, gang!! I love you guys. See ya.

Well, It’s That Kind of Day

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Beyond Here Lies Nothin'”

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

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

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

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

© 2009 Bob Dylan, Robert Hunter

Here Comes A Really Beautiful Day!!

Happy Friday, everybody.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just like how most regular people live.

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

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

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

I have to say,

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

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

Anyway. Every spare fucking penny is allocated right now.

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

Our house in Cleveland 1966 -1971

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I Tico Tico You”

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

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

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

[Chorus]

© 1999 Lou Bega

Another Productive Day in the Hinterlands!

Yesterday was, I mean.

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

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

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

So. Yesterday.

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

My decision came about because of the page count.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

June 1995 Coney Island, Brooklyn NY

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

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

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

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

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

“We Warned Her”
© 2012 Marilyn Jaye Lewis

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

© 2012 Marilyn Jaye Lewis

A Strange Tummy Kind of Morning!

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

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

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

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

Thank you very much, tummy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It assembles auto parts for Honda.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I Got A Girl”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally, A Little Good News!

Yesterday was sort of a good day, by the end of it.

The Ab Ab Pro phone call was frustrating, just because there is such an enormous amount of work to do. And both of us are more than a little frustrated with the entire world still moving at a snail’s pace because of COVID. And everything always needing more and more money to move to the next step. (I was not looking forward to telling Peitor the financial details of what the accountant had told me, but obviously, I had to.)

So far, in the 35+ years that Peitor and I have known each other, we don’t argue. Which doesn’t mean that most of the time we see eye to eye on things, because we absolutely do not.  But we don’t argue about it.

But yesterday we were at this sort of point — after 2 hours of going over the financial figures for various parts of our production company —  where we were talking to each other in this really measured, careful way — each word under a microscope — like we were in marriage counseling or something and trying not to explode at each other. It was sort of bizarre and definitely exhausting, emotionally. For both of us.

Working Together Clipart at GetDrawings | Free download

 

When we finally hung up, I really wasn’t able to get too much done on Thug Luckless: Welcome to P-Town, because I was so drained. I’m hoping, though, that today will be really creative for me regarding Thug.

But then, last evening, Kevin, the director of my play Tell My Bones, called with some incredible news regarding another potential zoom broadcast of a staged reading of the play — and this one is really, really exciting, gang.

I can’t go into the details on the blog yet, but, man — it was really great news. And I could start to feel again what life had felt like before the virus hit the world and brought every single one of my projects to a crashing halt.

So, that is making me happy. And I have two days ahead of me, free and clear, to work on Thug Luckless: Welcome to P-Town. So, I’m feeling like maybe I can take some time now, block out the stuff that sort of stresses me out, and just focus on the manuscript that’s in front of me and just feel really happy about it.

Plus, that little cat that  I call Henrietta — actually I just call her “little sweetheart” — stopped by to visit us around 6am, so I hung out on my kitchen porch with her for a few minutes. She makes me so happy because, unlike any of my 7 feral cats,  she lets me cuddle her!! She hasn’t come around in a couple weeks, so it was such a nice surprise to see her cute little face suddenly pop up at the kitchen window.  (Now, if only a little alpaca would come visit!!)

Okay, well, I hope you have a similar day ahead of you — stress-free and really creative! And maybe even an unexpected visit on your kitchen porch from one of God’s delightful little creatures. I have nothing to leave you with today because last night and this morning, I was still listening to Israel Kamakawiwo’ole singing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” endlessly on repeat (see yesterday’s post for that link). Well, actually I did also listen to Blixa Bargeld singing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” (1995), because William at the a1000mistakes blog over in Australia sent me a link to it during the night. So I’ll leave you with that! Thanks for visiting, gang. I hope you have a great Saturday. I love you guys. See ya.

Trying to Make this Day Not Suck!!!

Even though I don’t have television and I don’t listen to the radio, I still get plenty of really terrible fucking news.

It can get so difficult to pull myself up out of that garbage once it gets into my head.

COVID 19 is, of course, surging everywhere once again — and not just in America. And even though the vaccine is really really close (yay!! — Phase 3 of the clinical trials are beginning), the cure is what we need because…

Nick Cave’s Instagram feed announced this morning that tickets for the Ghosteen tour of Europe next summer are back on sale and even though I already have my ticket — thanks to my friends in Switzerland — at this rate, without a cure, as an American, I will likely never be allowed to travel anywhere ever again.

So a cure would come in really handy right now. (I’m getting really tired of worrying about absolutely everybody; it’s time for me to be really selfish now. I want to see Nick Cave. So please find the cure!!)

Also, the surge in the violation of the 1st Amendment Rights of college and university students all over America is the scariest fucking thing I’ve encountered short of the white Anarchist-Socialists absconding with the Black Lives Matter movement — and leaving Black people — whose lives actually do matter — once more in the fucking dust. (“Black Lives Matter” now basically only means “I Hate Trump”.)

If you are interested in helping to fight for the Freedom of Speech rights of students, you can check out (and join) the Speech First movement.  They are a not-for-profit, run primarily by women, fighting for the rights of students. On Instagram, they are @speech_first.

If you aren’t aware of how bad it’s getting here in the US — students who express opposing viewpoints to the extreme Leftist/Socialist/Progressives masquerading as Democrats, are not only physically assaulted on campuses but receive death threats and have vicious online hate campaigns started against them, which are often sanctioned by the faculty.

And those “old school” teachers  who don’t get on board the new train to violent Intolerance Land, also get those online hate campaigns started against them and can then even lose their fucking jobs.

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury (Full-length Play)

And lest we forget, gang, this once actually happened:

Auschwitz pleads with 'disrespectful' visitors to stop posing on ...
Train tracks leading to Auschwitz

Well, okay.

The earthquake in Los Angeles did lead to canceling my meeting yesterday with Peitor (which has been moved to today instead.) (I know — it’s my day to focus only on writing Thug Luckless: Welcome to P-Town, so, yes, I am a wee bit irritated. ) But I did do a ton of Abstract Absurdity Productions work on my own, yesterday. Including a one-hour phone conference with the accountant in NYC, regarding setting up our LLC, etc., and my brain had pretty much exploded by the time I got off the phone call.

But as far as I know, the earthquake was not Peitor’s fault, so I’m going to try really, really hard to not be irritable through the entire 2-hour phone call today.

And then the rest of the day (and whole weekend, in fact) will be devoted to working on Thug Luckless. So I need to look at the bright side.

Okay. I know you’re really dying to be updated on this: My workout routine now consists of 2 mornings of yoga, 2 mornings of the treadmill, and 2 mornings of aerobics — and then one morning to just say “fuck it” and not workout at all.

I really feel great — I do — but I am not losing even an ounce of fucking weight. It is making me completely insane because, as loyal readers of this lofty blog know so well, I eat really really boring, healthy non-fattening vegetarian food. So why I’ve put on 12 pounds and can’t budge it off of me, is something that leads only to madness if I ponder it too much.

So the only other option is to just stay off the fucking scale until the virus is finally gone from our cultural landscape. So that’s what I’m going to do.

Gone are the days of this past winter, when I had that crazy digital scale that repeatedly enabled me to reach my goal weight in about 3 hours’ time. I miss that!! I don’t fucking care if it’s lying to me at this point, just tell me I lost 12 pounds!! Restore to me the beautiful life I had 12 pounds ago!!

Anyway. I’m not really that insane, but it does bother me.

Okay.  I am just going to say one other thing that is bothering the fuck out of me:  certain family members. Who refuse to ever just tell me that I’m a good writer. And even when something I’ve written has brought tears to their eyes, they can’t say that what I wrote was good. And if I tell them that other people responded really positively to it, too, then those readers “are closeted gays.”

Okay, thank you. Thanks for that. Thanks for that vote of encouragement, you know? I’m fucking 60 now — you’d think it would stop mattering that my family doesn’t support my writing. Or that they can insult all of my readers, all over the world, in one fell fucking swoop. But it does indeed bug the shit out of me.

Jesus.

But I don’t want to be part of the “cancel culture.” Don’t want to disallow that everyone is entitled to their opinions.  So, I just bite my tongue, as they say, and I move on.

Well, all righty! I’m going to get going here, gang. I hope your Friday is really good to you, wherever you are in the world (but not so “Good,” that they send out some Romans to nail you to a cross). Thanks for visiting. Oddly enough, last night, I was back to listening to IZ because his voice makes me so fucking happy. Makes me forget about COVID, and family, and seemingly unrequited love, and LLCs and budgets and investors, dirty politics, and all the fucking damage people can do. So I leave you with it again, even though I only posted it here 2 days ago… Enjoy. I love you guys. See ya.

Smooth Sailin’ So Far…

In case you hadn’t heard, though, there was another earthquake in Los Angeles a couple of hours ago, so I’m waiting to hear from Peitor that all is well, and if we’ll still be doing Abstract Absurdity Productions work on the phone today, or not.

Either way, I have a ton of Ab Ab Pro work to do on my own here, today. Including a phone chat with the accountant in NYC this morning, to find out just how much money it’s going to cost us to set up 723 million separate LLC’s… (Each film needs its own LLC so that a bank account can be opened and an investor’s money can be deposited in the right place.)

Through some miracle, however, whenever Peitor and I have needed to cough up a bunch money to get something done, there has always been money available to cough up, and it hasn’t been some horrible dry hacking painful empty heave.

I’m hopeful that the trend will continue.

All righty. Well. I have now watched all of Season 3 of Agatha Raisin, and in about 11 days, the new season of Endeavor starts streaming on PBS Passport!! I can’t wait!! My absolute favorite show — one of my few reasons left for living. And meanwhile, I’m re-watching Season 2 of Miss Fisher’s Mysteries on Acorn TV. It’s actually been a few years since I watched it, so the shows are kind of new — meaning, I don’t have any recollection of “whodunnit.”  So that makes it still fun.

And speaking of Australia… (we were, because the Miss Fisher Mysteries take place in Melbourne in the 1920s), one of the many Instagram accounts that I follow is about an alpaca named Alfie that lives in Adelaide. And, if you don’t know who he is, he is actually a house pet. He lives indoors with his humans. Like a pet dog.

In case you aren’t aware, alpacas are huge! Really large animals. But so cute. And a number of people keep them as pets. (I seriously want one. They are so personable.) And it kind of amazes me just how many different types of animals people on Instagram have as pets.

Tons of people have pet owls, pet ducks, pet goats. And by this, I mean, they are indoor pets.

Of course, once all of the rest of my many cats transition over to the fields of the Lord, I don’t intend to have any more pets. The responsibility of having them makes traveling really complicated.

However, I really wish I could have a pet alpaca. They are just amazingly cute. (But then I also wish I could have a Henry A.I. sexbot from RealBotix, and I don’t see that happening, either.) (It’s amazing that I bother to get up in the morning, isn’t it? Knowing that my fondest dreams just aren’t ever gonna pan out…)

Okay!!

Today (right now, in fact) is the day my dad moves to that new place — it’s really nice. I saw it when I was down in Cincinnati last week. It’s not a nursing home, exactly. But it is assisted living. His apartment is inside a 3-story building, instead of a stand-alone condo type place, cut off from everybody, that he’s been living in the last 2 years. His new apartment is really, really nice.  And now that he’ll be indoors, among tons of other people and staff, I won’t have to call twice a day anymore.  I won’t have to worry that he fell and nobody knows, or something like that. So that’ll be good — for me, at least.

I cannot even imagine being 90 years old and moving to a new home. Actually, I don’t even like to imagine ever moving from this house I have now at any age, but you just never know how life will come at you, right? So I guess we’ll just see.  I bought the house (2 and 1/2 years ago) to have a quiet home base that I could then travel from, instead of moving back to New York (so fucking glad I did not move back to NY!!!!).  So far, that’s what I do — travel when I have to, then come back home — but traveling from here gets complicated because I am so far from an international airport. But we’ll see. I’ll stay here at least until the cats all transition, because I don’t want to ever have to move them again. Since they’re feral, I have to trap each one of them in order to move them, and trapping them is a nightmare. (I own my own traps, so I do it when I have to, but I hate it and so do they. It fills them with absolute terror and so then, of course, they attack — meaning bite, scratch, attempt to kill you.)

Hard to believe, though, right?

Clockwise from top left: Lucie, Huckleberry (laying flat), Weenie, Daddycakes (now deceased), Tommy, and Doris! (At the old rental house, a couple years ago. Frannie and Scottie are not  pictured here. They were hiding behind the piano.)

They will each go from “sweet” to “attacking you” in a nanosecond if they have to.

So, anyway, here’s hoping I don’t have to relocate them ever again. For now, my birth mom is happy to take care of them when I need to travel, but that won’t go on forever. She’s already 73 years old.

Okay, gang. Sorry this is so brief. I guess I’d better get my notes ready for my phone call with the accountant.  Have a great Thursday, wherever you are in the world, okay? Thanks for visiting. I leave you with my listening-music from last night. I posted it to the blog a few times last year, when it first came out — Bruce Springsteen’s “Hello Sunshine” from his 2019 album Western Stars. (Lyrics are in the video.) Get mellow and enjoy. I love you guys. See ya!!