Tag Archives: playwright

Yeah, Well. Now It’s All About Work…

I feel like I need a vacation just from having been away for 8 days… plus catching that darn cold. But, alas. It’s not to be.

I know I’ve said this before, but I honestly can’t even imagine what a vacation would feel like, or where I would even go.

It, of course, has come to my attention that the first full-length staged reading of Tell My Bones will be happening in NYC directly before I’m supposed to oversee my first Writers Retreat at Villa Monte Malbe, so that’s interesting, right?

Not that it can’t be done. It certainly can. I’m mostly just concerned about what will likely be my intensely frazzled frame of mind. Going back to NYC, dealing with the rehearsals, then the actual reading and all that that will entail, then fly off to Italy, go deep into Perugia, all by myself, where I don’t speak the language (even though I study it every single darn day– the only way I will be any good at Italian is if everyone there just gives me written quizzes and doesn’t attempt to actually converse with me), then attempt to communicate with the staff at the retreat– the kitchen staff, housekeeping , none of whom, I’ve been assured, speak English; and then try to help about 15-20 writers that I won’t have met before have some sort of magical relaxing creative ethereal sort of experience.

You know, it’s always really important to me that when other writers work with me — either in a collaborative way, or they hire me to be their editor, or they come to me as a writing student — I always want the other person to find something truly expansive in that experience. Help people approach their writing in an empowering way, or maybe in a way that helps them understand themselves better as someone gifted and born to write. That type of thing. It matters a lot to me.  I would rather not be out of my fucking mind while I’m trying to do that.

I guess we’ll see.

More wonderful photos out of Canada last night! This time, Toronto. Although I don’t think anything is going to compare with that theater in Montreal. (I’m speaking about the Conversations with Nick Cave, in case you’re new here and wondering what the fuck I’m suddenly talking about.)

Next he will be in Chicago — a mere 45 minutes from Crazeysburg!! (By plane, that is. ) I really like Chicago. I have some wonderful memories from the old historic Palmer House Hotel there!! And their Art Institute. I wish I were going…

Anyway. I’m gonna scoot here and get to work.  I’m kinda hoping the Universe has something figured out for me because, left to my own devices, all I manage to do is work too much. Oh, and a web site for Tell My Bones will be forthcoming in the very near future, gang! Meanwhile, please follow the new facebook page:


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Okay. Thanks for visiting, gang!! Have a super Sunday, wherever you are in the world!! I leave you with this true gem from Tom Petty’s Highway Companion solo album, “Square One.” I think he wrote it about himself & Dana, but then I think he wrote everything about Dana… She was his angel. Okay. I love you guys. See ya.

“Square One”

Had to find some higher ground.
Had some fear to get around.
You can’t say what you don’t know.
Later on won’t work no more.

Last time through I hid my tracks.
So well I could not get back.
Yeah my way was hard to find.
Can’t sell your soul for peace of mind.

Square one, my slate is clear.
Rest your head on me my dear.
It took a world of trouble, took a world of tears.
It took a long time to get back here.

Tried so hard to stand alone.
Struggled to see past my nose.
Always had more dogs than bones.
I could never wear those clothes.

It’s a dark victory.
You won and you are so lost.
Told us you were satisfied, but it never came across

Square one, my slate is clear.
Rest your head on me my dear.
It took a world of trouble, took a world of tears.
It took a long time to get back here.
c – 2006 Tom Petty

Frankly, I Think We’d All Look Pretty Darn Good in There!

Wow, the photos from Nick Cave’s Conversation in Montreal last night were positively STUNNING.

The theater itself was gorgeous, and he looked incredible on that stage. (And not meaning it as a backhanded compliment — that theater was so gorgeous that I think any one of us would have to work pretty darn hard to not look kind of stunning up on that same stage.)

Anyway. Every time I think a show looks like it was incredible, another batch of photos & comments comes through Instagram that makes another show seem even better.

This is the very reason why I need to be attending every single show. But I have this pesky thing called “my life” — you know? It’s always getting in the way. Needing things, like, my presence within it.

Wow. Okay.

This darn chest cold is not yet gone. But it really feels like today will be the last day of it. Meanwhile, though, my brain has not been able to really focus on those intricate details it needs to focus on in order to get the rewrites underway. But I’m not stressing. There is still time.

Yesterday, Gus Van Sant Sr got in touch with me again re: my trip to NYC and my meeting with Sandra and the director, and he did something that I can’t really discuss on the blog, but I can say that it absolutely blew my mind. He is so kind. So generous. And it came on the heels of that intense phone call with my dad, so what Gus did just felt even more like a miracle from Heaven, you know?

That man has been such a blessing to me. I don’t even want to think about what my life would have been like if he hadn’t walked up to me out of the blue that morning, not knowing me from anyone else on Earth, only going on something his barber had told him out at his country club — “I hear you’re a writer and that you need work. Do you want to come work for me?”

Oh my god — yes. I sure do. How amazing, right?

It changed everything in my world that was truly spiraling downward at that point. He is just the nicest man.

Well, okay. I actually have to scoot here, gang. I think I need to go back to bed for a little bit. I’m still sort of wiped out.

But have a super-duper Saturday, wherever you are in the world! Thanks for visiting. I leave you with this. I have no idea why I started suddenly listening to Let Love In again while driving home from NY, but I just love this album. It is truly a bonanza of darkness set to really excellent music.  I love every song on this fucking album, even though I have to assume that the worst happened to every girl who’s ever left him. Like, in this song below, “She’s Nobody’s Baby, Now” — did he kill her? I mean, it seems like he killed her, right? Or somebody did. The entire album is like a Rape & Murder Festival, so it just sort of seems like she met with foul play.  And that song “Thirsty Dog” just cracks me up.  It is, like, just so deranged. The lyrics, I mean. Anyway. It’s such a cool album from God knows how many years ago now. But I leave you with “She’s Nobody’s Baby, Now”. Okay. I love you guys! See ya!

“Nobody’s Baby Now”

I’ve searched the holy books
Tried to unravel the mystery of Jesus Christ, the saviour
I’ve read the poets and the analysts
Searched through the books on human behaviour
I travelled the whole world around
For an answer that refused to be found
I don’t know why and I don’t know how
But she’s nobody’s baby nowI loved her then and I guess I love her still
Hers is the face I see when a certain mood moves in
She lives in my blood and skin
Her wild feral stare, her dark hair
Her winter lips as cold as stone
Yeah, I was her man
But there are some things even love won’t allow
I held her hand but I don’t hold it now
I don’t know why and I don’t know how
But she’s nobody’s baby now

This is her dress that I loved best
With the blue quilted violets across the breast
And these are my many letters
Torn to pieces by her long-fingered hand
I was her cruel-hearted man
And though I’ve tried to lay her ghost down
She’s moving through me, even now
I don’t know why and I don’t know how
But she’s nobody’s baby now

c – 1994 Nick Cave

Who Does This Sound Like, Gang??!!

As most of you know, my birth mom has been staying at my house, taking care of my cats while I was away.

She called me on the phone yesterday to tell me that she will probably still be there this evening when I get home because my sister is coming to pick her up after work and she has to work late.

I’m actually really happy that she will still be there and I can see her again— plus it’ll be nice not coming home to an empty house.

But listen to what she said: “It gets so warm during the day that I go around and open all the windows, then in the morning, it’s freezing so I go around and close them. Then midday, I open them all up again!”

That’s so funny, right?! That’s how I spend every single darn day! Just hearing her say that, and that weird tone in her voice— the one that perfectly matches the voice in my own head — made me feel way less crazy about all those windows. It was too funny.

And you are all my witnesses: you all know that I tried really hard to get that house clean before she got there. I did my very best. However, she told me yesterday that she dusted and vacuumed and swept the porch and cleared off the cobwebs there—and cleared out all the weeds from the front of my house!!!

Jesus. I must say, I’m kind of excited but, you know, I was really trying not to let that happen. I really was. But since I sort of failed there— well, wow. Yay!! Coming home to a clean house and no weeds!!

The other amazing thing that made me so happy, so excited: She actually bonded with all those crazy cats! Well, all of them except Francis, who is just one mean little cat. But she said they come out in the morning to get fed, and then come out again in the evening to get treats! This sounds simple to you, but is unheard of in my house because my cats are feral and terrified of people. They will hide for literally days on end if people are about.

I had a feeling that my mom was going to make some progress with them.  I’m so happy. Plus this means they didn’t act out while I was gone by pissing on everything. Yay!!

Okay, well as sad as I am to not be attending anymore Conversations with Nick Cave, they do indeed resume tonight in Cambridge. Lucky ducks!

There were some great photos on Instagram from both shows in NYC— both from onstage and offstage, so that was cool. Even though, specifically at Town Hall, it was really distracting and annoying to have those people around me taping everything with their phones, especially when the whole theater was dark and he was singing. Those annoying phone lights. Then of course, it makes the ushers have to come over and flash another light at the culprits to get them to put their phones away. Just maddening all the way around. So distracting.

But of course, people like me then go on Instagram and hit all those little “like” buttons, saving all those great photos, and only reinforcing all this bad behavior!!

Okay, gang. Gonna go say my prayers and offer some gratitude to St. Francis, St. Christopher, and Christ himself, in preparation for another 9 or 10 hour drive.

It really was such a successful trip. And the Airbnb wasn’t horrible. I might do it again next time, I’m not really sure. As much as I love hotels, I did like the casualness of just trotting down the stairs and hitting the street. So we’ll see.

All righty. Thanks for visiting!! The next time you see me, I’ll be up to my eyeballs in rewrites! Have a great Wednesday, wherever you are in the world, gang. I love you guys. See ya!

Okay, Gang! She’s Outta Here!!

First, allow me to complain a little bit!

In no particular order:

  • Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds sent out an email this morning listing the upcoming listening events for the new album, Ghosteen, and apparently they accidentally left Crazeysurg off that list and so now I have no idea where I’m supposed to go! It looks like maybe Belgium is my closest option.
  • I am really, really tired of the lousy air quality in NYC and cannot wait to get back to Rhinebeck this afternoon. My throat is, like, raw.
  • While the audience at Town Hall last night was really fun and enthusiastic, they were the most fidgety bunch of people I’ve ever been anywhere near. First of all, at least half of the balcony arrived “late” — and I put that in quotes because they weren’t late, they were out in the upstairs lobby drinking and ignoring the flashing lights. So about 700 million of them came in and tried to find their seats after the Conversation had already started. And then I have never seen so many grown up people get up & down and go in & out— going for more drinks, going to the use the bathroom, etc. I really just wanted to smack all of them throughout the entire show.
  • The man in front of me — who arrived late and then left early to catch his train out of Grand Central— was really tall and it was a constant challenge for me to see around his head until he left (early) but then 10 minutes later, the show was over.
  • I have never seen so many people get up and go catch the last train out of Grand Central at the very same time as I saw last night (meaning: 10 minutes before the show ended).
  • Overall, while indeed enthusiastic, the audience last night drove me a little nuts.

Other than that, though, the Conversation itself was great. Very different energy from Lincoln Center, yet both were somehow equally great. And even though I was in that balcony with all those fidgety, constantly moving people, I still had a really cool view— dead center.  I could see everything easily— except for having to contend with that tall guy in front of me.

I still think it’s better than being on the main floor if you aren’t seated right up in front.  And even though Nick Cave himself seemed to be in a different headspace last night as compared to Lincoln Center — where he was sort of more subdued or something— Town Hall is now just a really sucky place to be in the audience after experiencing that specific theater at Lincoln Center, which was just incredible.

Okay, so I’m gonna get a Lyft here in about an hour and try to get through the insane Midtown traffic in time to catch my train out of Penn Station at 10:20am. Sandra is taking a later train but, truthfully, I just can’t get out of here quick enough. I just feel like I need some decent air.

I did spend a few hours with Valerie yesterday afternoon and that was really nice. I have had a ton of quiet time during my stay here in the city, so it was just so great to spend some time with someone who knows me so well, who laughs a lot, and who is such a huge part of the “old” New York. That old vibe— meaning, not militantly-politically correct.  And Valerie is a really tall, butch dyke who drinks and smokes and is extremely liberal and has been for 60 years, and yet she, too, has to contend with the constant onslaught of the intolerant zealously-politically-correct hordes. It gets so tiring.

I’m not sure if I prefer the Mongol hordes to this current horde of zealously PC liberals or not. I have to give it some thought.  I’ll get back to you.

After lunch, we hung out on the stoop so that she could smoke and we did indeed discuss Mick Jagger’s weird inability to age— how it was sort of spooky. (And I wasn’t the one who brought up this topic, either, so clearly, I am not the only person who’s kind of creeped out by him nowadays.) But I did fess up to my recent discovery that, like Mick Jagger, I, too, prefer the idea of having sex with much younger women over having sex with 70-year-old women, and so I can’t really call that particular kettle black anymore.

And, of course, she concurred. Which, in itself, is kind of weird because we were lovers for 20 years, and now I guess we’re agreeing that even we are too old to seem like an appealing sex option to each other.

(I’m sort of just kidding. However, under our breath, so as not to be overheard by the PC militant zealots scurrying around us, we agreed that when it came to girls, we liked them “really young.”)

All righty!!!!


Wednesday, I make that drive back to Ohio and I’m not 100% psyched for that trip yet, but I’m looking forward to spending the rest of the day and evening in Rhinebeck and I guess spending some more time discussing the theater projects with Sandra in person.

Sandra works a lot, mostly in television in Canada, and it can be really hard to get her complete attention (or to even get her to reply to a text) when she’s working. So I need to get as much out of her as I can whenever she’s directly in front of me.

That said, though, I’m still not ready to tackle the next round of rewrites on the play. I can tell that all of it is gestating inside me, so I’m not concerned. I just know that I’m not quite ready.  I know I will be once I’m back at my own desk, with my Muse suffusing my entire room.  Although, Peitor texted, wanting to know when we can get back on schedule with the micro-scripts. So I guess I’m getting ready to be really busy again.

Well, needless to say, but I’ll say it anyway, it has been so great to be able to see Nick Cave in the Conversation environment— twice. It really was just the best time and I’m feeling a little misty over having to move on.  But on we must all move.  Who knows when I will ever see him again in that specific, focused way. But it was just so wonderful. I just love him so much. And last evening— I can’t recall which song it was that he was singing; maybe “Love Letter,” maybe “Shivers,” — but for several fleeting moments, I saw the young Nick Cave coming through in his face, his expression. It was really interesting. Beautiful, I guess.

And now I must open the Lyft app and get that underway. Have a terrific Tuesday, wherever you are in the world. Thanks for visiting, gang. I love you guys. See ya!



Hell’s Kitchen 5PM !!

Lunch was great. Sandra was awake and up and about, so she hopped a Lyft and joined me & Wayne.

We went to the West Bank Cafe. I hadn’t been there in maybe 25 years— something like that. From before my marriage to Wayne. Back when I was having an extremely intense short-lived affair with a bass player who was engaged to be married. He mistakenly thought I was a dyke so he used to flirt with me rather recklessly. I guess I turned out to be not such a dyke…

Anyway, it turns out that— lo! —  these many years later, Wayne is friendly with the owner there and he introduced me today as his wife!! It was weird. Both Sandra and I were, like — actually we didn’t know what to make of it. Right away, I said that I was his ex-wife, and then I felt kind of bad — you know, the blinding speed with which I clarified that. Like, you know, please don’t think for a fraction of a second that I’m married to this perfectly reasonable, well-groomed man sitting here or anything. I did feel kind of bad.

Yes, I did talk a little tiny bit at length about Nick Cave during lunch, but only because they FINALLY got around to asking me how the show was last night. Wayne, of course, knows at least some of Nick Cave’s music, so that was cool.

Now I am back in my room. I have been quite busy! I’ve taken about 30 naps; looked for photos of Nick Cave on Instagram— of which there were many; not just from the show last night but because it’s also his birthday today, so everyone’s posting his photo and wishing him a happy happy.

I also spoke at length on the phone to Valerie, even though I’m spending several hours with her tomorrow.  Luckily, even after nearly 40 years, we still don’t run out of things to talk about.

I’m not sure I will make any progress on rewrites of the play today. I just want to lay in bed, drift in & out of sleep. Listen to all the crazy traffic outside.

Here is what it looks like directly across from my (extremely filthy) window at the Airbnb.

    Outside the filthy Airbnb window. The no longer quite so hellish Hell’s Kitchen. 5 pm.

Okay! Have a terrific evening, wherever you are in the world, gang!! I love you guys!

Hotels Are Better…

There’s nothing at all wrong with this Airbnb. As Midtown Manhattan apartments go, it’s totally okay. But hotels are 100 million percent better.

For instance, another guest is here and sharing the bathroom with me. I don’t know who it is, but it showered during the night and used my one and only towel!! Now I can’t shower again until the magic towel fairy mysteriously shows up from wherever she actually lives and brings me a fresh one.

I would rather remain my own unshowered person indefinitely than use a damp towel after some total stranger in NYC used it.

But other than that, it’s a perfectly serviceable room. The bed isn’t terrible but it’s incredibly noisy right outside the window, so I only slept 3 hours.  I have nothing to do today but write and have lunch with Wayne, so I’m guessing I can just nap off and on all day if I want to.

NYC has gotten so crowded and so congested with traffic that it’s really just a pain in the ass kind of city now, with no charm, no character. All the things I used to love about it are gone, but it’s still fun to visit for brief little periods.

And I’m thinking that the plays will bring me back to NYC more and more, so I’ll deal with it. But seriously, it isn’t even the tourist season right now and it’s just wall to wall people.

I’m not sure yet how much of that meeting that I had yesterday is suitable for posting to the blog. I guess right now, the only thing I can say about it is that it was nothing like what I was expecting— in essence, the director hit the ground running, in terms of the things that will be coming quickly into place to begin getting the show off the ground. It was the start of a dream coming true, gang.

In the cab ride after the meeting, Sandra said, “Do you know how lucky you are? To have someone doing all this for your play?”

Yes, I do know. But it’s not luck. It’s a lot of prayer and it’s several years of paying really close attention to everything imaginable. 3 and a 1/2 years ago, I first saw a play he directed and I knew he was the director I wanted to work on Tell My Bones, which I hadn’t even adapted satisfactorily yet. Then it was all about connecting with him on social media; talking to him during the intermissions of every other play I saw that he directed.. Saying hello to him every single time I ever saw him anywhere, even though I knew he didn’t know me. Interrupting him at dinner once to tell him I was a writer. Then getting to know his significant other, meeting him for cocktails in NYC  and in Ohio , when the director was too busy. Then telling the significant other that Sandra and  I had a play I wanted the director to direct and, after he googled both me and Sandra, he said, “I’ll talk to him.” Finally, 3 years on, I emailed the director my script so that he could read it on an airplane because it was the only free moment he had….

I don’t really think of that as luck. It’s 3 and a 1/2 years of just staying incredibly focused. And also spending an enormous amount of time writing and rewriting and rewriting that play. But that aside — wow, gang. I could not be happier. We haven’t even raised one dime yet in production costs and yet he already has his game plan in place to get the play off the ground. By the time I came home from seeing Nick Cave last night,  I saw on my phone that the director was already beginning the social media campaign.

And that said!!

Wow, Nick Cave, gang. I am so glad I get the chance to see him again on Monday. It was so wonderful and the time just flew.  I will be up in the balcony on Monday so it won’t be the same but at least I’ll be there.  The venue last night was really just a fantastic place to see him In.  Sort of small. Great acoustics. Really comfortable. The reason why my 4th row Orchestra seat became the 7th row, is because 3 rows of seats were set up in the orchestra pit, since there was no orchestra last night. But it was still a great seat — and it wasn’t over to the side; it was dead center.

Anyway, it was just perfect. A totally perfect night. And his fans are really interesting people. I’m not saying that to flatter myself. But they really do seem to be a whole different type of person. A lot of foreigners were there. Really different fans, overall, from the old days. Still there’s also something about some of the old days that I kind of miss.

But I’m just so glad I got to go. I just love him so much.

Okay. At some point within the next 30 days, Edge of Humanity Magazine will publish my new installment of In the Shadow of Narcissa. I’ll keep you posted! And any day now, that excerpt of my new novel, Blessed By Light, will appear in the Exterminating Angel Press Magazine, so I’ll keep you posted about that, too.

And now I will scoot! I’m leaving you with a shot of my Airbnb room at dawn — my carry-on exploded. And then I did take one photo at Lincoln Center last night before the show started.

Have a wonderful (Nick Cave’s birthday) Sunday, wherever you are in the world! Thanks for visiting, gang. I love you guys. See ya!

Dawn in the Airbnb. My little world exploded.
    Waiting for Nick Cave at Lincoln Center

A Big Money Pow Wow Kind of Day!

Yes, Sandra and I have done nothing but discuss this theater stuff.   To say that it’s weighing on me now is a slight understatement.

We’re taking the train into the city later this morning. Then I’m gonna check into my Airbnb. She’s going to drop her stuff off at her pied a terre. Then we go across town to meet with the director.

The front porch here is so inviting. It has wicker rocking chairs. I actually fell asleep for a few minutes while rocking yesterday in the sun, listening to the peace & quiet.

But then Sandra came out to the porch and we began discussing the play again, and my peace sort of fled me. She says, “ I want to hear what the director thinks, but I’m thinking we’re looking at a 2 million dollar budget for this play now.”

I just sort of looked at her.

I can’t really get my mind around that kind of a budget, but I’m inclined to believe her. The rewrites have been that drastic.

I can’t process it anymore. Of course, we’ll hear what the director is thinking about it, as well. But all I can do, really, is just focus on writing the best play I can and then not think one step beyond that. Just let life happen. Allow the Universe to work those miracles it is so famous for.

Several photos on Instagram this morning from Nick Cave’s Conversation in DC last night. Looks like it went splendidly!! I of course will not even be bringing my phone to Lincoln Center tonight.  I never take photos of events even when I’m allowed to. I just sort of like to be present and not even think about my phone. Tonight’s show is where I have the really good seat — 4th row of the Orchestra, over to the left.

Even while I have collected photos and micro clips on Instagram of every single one of these Conversations since the tour started in Australia in January, I’m oddly feeling like I have no idea what to expect.  The only thing I feel certain of is that the time will fly and I will wish that, instead, time would stop and it would go on forever.


Okay, so I wrote a new segment for In the Shadow of Narcissa yesterday. I think I still might tweak it a tiny bit. But you can find the segment at the link to the site that’s somewhere here in the blog. I’m on my phone now so I can’t really see the navigation. But the link is here somewhere.

Tomorrow, Sunday, I will likely spend the day in my room at the Airbnb working on rewrites of the play. Sandra and I might meet up with Wayne somewhere (my ex who is also a long time friend of Sandra’s). I’m not positive about that. I’m kind of keeping tomorrow open because Monday I’m sort of booked solid before the Conversation at Town Hall at 8pm, and I want to relax a little. I think. I guess we’ll see how it all pans out.

Okay. Yes, I’m in a bit of a weird mood, stemming from this colossal budget thing that I managed to create. No one but me seems at all disturbed by this so I’m trying to just let it go and chill, you know? I guess, like everything, we’ll just see.

I leave you with a shot of the quiet empty kitchen from just before I began to blog— when I grabbed another cup of coffee.  I get up so early, as you know. Not a soul around here is awake until hours after I get up.

Well, okay.

Thanks for visiting, gang!! Have a super Saturday, wherever you are in the world! I love you guys! See ya!

Early morning in the kitchen in Rhinebeck!


All Is Decidedly Well!

[UPDATE:  In the Shadow of Narcissa has updated. You can read it here! Thanks!]

(Now, back to the blog!)

Three nights in a row now, I have slept really great. No anxiety at all, even though all my challenges remain the same and, now that I’m here in Rhinebeck, focusing on both plays with Sandra, new challenges are arising. But that sense that everything will unfold however it needs to unfold is really pronounced.

So I’m good.

I can’t believe that the Conversations with Nick Cave resume tonight in DC. It seems like it came so fucking fast. Then tomorrow night, I see him in the city— and then again on Monday.

I’m doing that thing again — dragging my feet, trying to slow it all down, because it will be over in a heartbeat and life will just go on!

No!! How can that be??

When Sandra asked me who I was seeing in the city, and I said “Nick Cave,” she said, “but who are you seeing on Monday then?”

”Nick Cave.”

”Oh, then who are you seeing at Lincoln Center?”

”Nick Cave.”

”Wait— you’re seeing that dude twice?”


“You must like him a lot.”

”I do.”

”Who is he?”

Aaaarrrggggh!!!! Oh well. Clearly not every American is oblivious to Nick Cave because all the Conversations are sold out…

Sandra and I had a long discussion last evening re: Tell My Bones and I went over the director’s notes with her, even though I haven’t done the rewrites yet. She was very insightful and enthusiastic. Today, we’re going to go over the whole play, scene by scene, which will likely help me facilitate the rewrites.

I’m feeling extremely good about everything because Sandra’s response to this new version is very, very encouraging.

I have a feeling I’ll be spending most of my time at the Airbnb writing. Both on Tell My Bones and on a new segment for In the Shadow of Narcissa. I’m planning to spend Monday with Valerie. But other than that, I think I’ll just be hanging out by myself, writing.

Yesterday, Sandra and I went and had lunch at this place I really like because it has great vegetarian options. And in there, I swear to you — I’m not lying about this — one of the guys who works there, who looked to be in his late teens, early 20s tops, came on to me!! I was completely taken aback by this because I was in one of those intense moods where I wasn’t even smiling. At first I thought maybe he was attracted to my Tom Petty tee shirt. But, no, it seemed that he was actually attracted to ME! And I was, like, WOW.  Now that is interesting, right? It’s like they get younger and younger.

Is it because I’m getting more and more immature?!!

When I woke up this morning, at 5:45 am, my brain was reciting various odd stanzas from Whitman’s “I Sing the Body Electric.”  I hadn’t thought of that poem in years. This is that area of the country, where he lived, roamed, thrived, wrote. Really, when you get to the East Coast you can feel the ghosts of all those sensibilities— writers and thinkers who settled here, drew in the Nature that was all around here back then, and then created from that intake. Rhinebeck is just one of those places that retains its history. It’s part of daily life. It’s the reason why I love it so much — but it does come with a huge price tag. It’s really expensive to live out here.

New Yorkers do that to a place: they buy a summer home somewhere up the Hudson, then decide it’s so nice, let’s make it year round. Then everyone catches on and does the same thing, and in a heartbeat, the price of everything goes through the roof and city people are all over the place.

Okay! Well, I hope things are good in your part of the world, gang. I’m gonna grab some more coffee and hang out and think about life until Sandra emerges from the boudoir. I leave you with a shot looking down in the neighbors yard at 6:30 am this morning.

Thanks for visiting! I love you guys. See ya.

Looking down at the neighbor’s yard in Rhinebeck 6:30 am


How Nice!! My Brain Returned!!

That’s good news, right? I woke up this morning and had a functioning human brain again!

Of course, the slightly bad news is that I still can’t wrap my mind around those extensive notes for the ending segment of Tell My Bones, and my mind seems to be leaning toward writing the next installment of In the Shadow of Narcissa this morning anyway. So I’m getting the feeling that I’m gonna do that.

And then maybe vacuum the house…

And then maybe sit and think about the play…

Sandra finally texted yesterday that she liked the new version but wasn’t understanding how we were going to do a staged reading of it because it now feels so cinematic.


I totally forgot that I have to completely rewrite the staged reading version of the play now, too. (And if you’re deranged enough to be following the progress of all of my far-flung projects, you might recall that I have yet to revise the show bible for Cleveland’s Burning since I did the 4th draft of it back in October…) (And the veteran African-American television actor who was negotiating with me to attach  himself to the TV pilot to play the grandfather role, decided to die the other day. Literally. Peitor texted me from Italy on Friday saying only: “John died.” Oh fuck, now that’s good news…) (And all of my own selfish needs aside; that guy was a really, really nice man.)


I cannot even begin to comprehend how to write the staged reading version of Tell My Bones at this point, without the director basically drawing me a detailed blue print & map. Either that, or I’ll just shoot myself and hope for a better, non-writing, life next time around.

Honestly. I cannot even begin to imagine what the staged reading of this version of the play is gonna look like. I simply cannot.

However, what I told Sandra is: no worries, we all just need to have a chat about it in person once I get there, figure it all out! She texted back a cheery “thumb’s up.”

So we’ll just see what the heck the future brings re: this amazing play because I sure as hell cannot figure it out.

I actually can’t figure anything out. To be honest, way down deep at the core of everything, I don’t even know what Life is or why I exist. I’m just wingin’ it on every level, pretty much every day.

Before I forget — please be on the lookout for the upcoming Fall Issue of the Exterminating Angel Press Magazine (online) because they have an excerpt of my new novel, Blessed By Light, in there!! They’re printing Chapter 18, which is titled, “The Guitar Hero Goes Home.” I will, of course, keep you posted.

All righty. That said, while I still have a functioning brain around here today, I’m gonna scoot and take a look at how I feel about writing a new segment for In the Shadow of Narcissa. And then, depending on how I end up feeling about that, I’ll either write or vacuum. And try not to think about this indescribably stressful trip that is now looming — 3 days away. (And why I decided not to fly… I just don’t understand me sometimes.) (And my TSA Precheck number arrived yesterday — in plenty of time for that flight I’m now not taking.)

Okay. Have a beautiful Sunday, wherever you are in the world. And if you’d like to apply for the job of being my BRAIN, do get in touch. God knows there is often a vacancy there. Thanks for visiting, gang. I love you guys! See ya!

Oh, and the Stateside leg of the Conversations with Nick Cave (aka In Conversation, and Words + Music) begins in, like 5 days….. Can you believe that?  Where is the time fucking going??!!.

Okay. I leave you with this! (Yes, more soul-wreching Dalida! Always a good indication that my sanity is sort of sliding away… Enjoy, gang!)

“La petite maison bleue”

La petite maison bleue
Est envahie de silence
La maison de mon enfance
Me fait mal quand je la voisC’est pourtant plus fort que moi
J’y retournerai sans doute
Je reprendrai cette route
Qui mène à mes souvenirs

C’est ici que j’ai grandi
Que j’ai découvert la vie
Ces beaux jours s’enfuient déjà
Revibrant toujours en moi

La petite maison bleue
A mes yeux reste la même
C’est ici que ceux que j’aime
Ont connu des jours heureux

Ma jeunesse est restée là
Au détour de ce chemin
Ma jeunesse est restée là
Quelquepart dans ce jardin

La petite maison bleue
Est envahie de tristesse
Mais elle est pour moi quand même
La maison des jours heureux

La maison des jours heureux

c – 1968 Detto Mariano, Don Backy, Michel Jourdan

Those Furry Things Have Gotta Go!!!

Not a single solitary one of them has done any housework in weeks. And I have to say I can’t stand for it anymore. You know, they don’t even try to win me over with coy affection. Don’t sidle up to me, don’t entwine sensuously, don’t purr seductively in my face and whisper things like, ” I’m too pretty to clean.” (And trust me, you can get a lot of mileage out of that with me!!)

No. They don’t do anything close to that. They just fucking ignore me.

I am absolutely exhausted, gang. And I mean that in the most crucial way.

I cannot imagine how I am going to get my house clean before my mom gets here. On Tuesday morning, I have to drive over and get her and then bring her here — that’s two hours each way, so that gives me two hours in the car to explain to her why my house is sort of a mess.

I’m going to clean the bathrooms and vacuum and I think that’s going to be it. Dust is going to have to remain. Everywhere. Because I received some extensive notes from the director last night re: the ending section of Tell My Bones — more rewrites that I need to do before I get to NYC.

How I’m going to do this is a question that’s right up there with all the unanswerable questions that Man has conjured since Time began. Because my brain is absolutely fried right now. I only have enough brain power left to clean the house — however, it turns out that I can’t really do that right now. I have to revise the endless play instead.

If I were flying, I could write on the plane, and during the endless layover in Philadelphia, but I decided to drive instead. I’m starting to think that maybe driving there this time was a bad idea because I am just exhausted — not even factoring in the new needed rewrites. I’m starting to think I should have went for a non-stop flight to JFK, which would have been lots better than the convoluted plane trip to Stewart International which had the ridiculously long layover in Philadelphia to start with. I’m starting to think that every single thought I have, and every decision I come to, is just deranged and unhinged.

I wish I could hire someone to think for me from here on out. (And clean for me, too, although that’s just stupid because I am totally capable of cleaning my own house — when I’m not spending my entire life at my desk.)


Here in Crazeysburg, it is almost 1 o’clock in the afternoon and I am just now sort of getting out of bed. I’ve been awake since 4am, and have gotten in and out of bed a number of times, but the “getting back into bed” part has remained infinitely more attractive throughout the entire morning. I am still only loosely committed to this idea of finally starting the day.

You know, I printed out all of the director’s notes so that I could walk away from the desk and sort of focus and study them. And while I agree with them, and I understand his points, and I trust that his comments will lead to that coveted Pulitzer — I look at those notes at this point, and my poor brain is so over-extended, that I can’t process any of the words that are on the page.

I’m guessing this is only a temporary condition. And that maybe by as soon as tomorrow, I will be back to comprehending the English language once again. Today, I think, is going to be a complete washout.

I think I’ll just go back to bed and stare for awhile and see if anything whatsoever springs into my brain and motivates me. We shall see. Meanwhile, gang, enjoy your Saturday, wherever it finds you! Thanks for visiting. I love you guys. See ya.

(PS: It’s been a week now, and I’m actually loving my new grown-up car. It’s a fast little motherfucker…)


[Verse 1]
Well she got her daddy’s car and she cruised to the hamburger stand, now
Seems she forgot all about the library like she told her old man, now
But with the radio blasting goes cruising just as fast as she can now
And she’ll have fun, fun, fun till her daddy takes the T-bird away
(fun, fun, fun, ’till her daddy takes the T-bird away)

[Verse 2]
Well the girls can’t stand her cause she walks, looks and drives like an Ace, now
(You walk like an ace now, you walk like an ace)
She makes the Indy 500 look like a Roman chariot race, now
(You look like an ace now, you look like an ace)
A lot of guys try to catch her, but she leads them on a wild goose chase, now
And she’ll have fun, fun, fun till her daddy takes the T-bird away
(fun, fun, fun, ’till her daddy takes the T-bird away)

[Verse 3]
Well you knew all along that your dad was getting wise to you, now
(You shouldn’t have lied now, you shouldn’t have lied)
And since he took your set of keys you’ve been thinking that your fun is all through, now
(You shouldn’t have lied now, you shouldn’t have lied)

But you can come along with me cause we’ve got a lot of things to do, now
(You shouldn’t have lied now, you shouldn’t have lied)
And we’ll have fun, fun, fun now that daddy took the T-bird away
(fun, fun, fun, now her daddy took the T-bird away)
And we’ll have fun, fun, fun now that daddy took the T-bird away
(fun, fun, fun, now her daddy took the T-bird away)

(fun, fun, now her daddy took the T-bird away
Fun, fun, now her daddy took the T-bird away)
(fun, fun, now her daddy took the T-bird away
Fun, fun, now her daddy took the T-bird away)
(fun, fun, now her daddy took the T-bird away
Fun, fun, now her daddy took the T-bird away)

c -1964 Brian Wilson, Mike Love