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 boringinformative 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.
It is already super, super, SUPER sunny here today, and it’s going to be very hot. So I want to get an early start into town to get the groceries.
I don’t want to complain, though, because the rest of the week is supposed to be overcast and full of thunderstorms. Of course the crops need the rain. But anyway. I’m going to try to make the best out of the sun today, but stay out of it as much as I can.
Last night’s episode of Endeavor was definitely worth waiting one year for. (I noticed in the opening credits last night that it’s actually spelled the British way: Endeavour. Only took me 7 years to notice this.)
I’m not crazy about watching it on the flat screen TV with the firestick 4, though, because it is so intensely HD that it has that “live” look to it — the “film” quality is completely gone. I actually wound up switching halfway through it, and going back to watching it on the iPad.
But everything else looks okay on the firestick 4, although it still seems so weird to have the TV in the kitchen. I was watching a special about Viking Warrior Women last evening and suddenly noticed that I actually had both my legs — bare feet included — up on the kitchen table while I was leaning back in my chair (!!!). Jesus. That’s a little too bohemian for me…
Anyway. Where to put the TV is the worst of my troubles right now.
Today is “reading other writers’ works” day! So I’ll be back in the Netherlands (mentally), reading Whatever Comes My Way: Travels in the Netherlands, by Roger Gaess. Today, I’m going to find out about Zwolle, Eindhoven, Venlo, and Maastricht! (I don’t know if I’m going to find out how to pronounce the names of those cities, but I feel certain that we’re going to find out where all the bars are!!)
Yesterday was a bit of a washout. I wrote nothing new on Thug Luckless: Welcome to P-Town. I simply could not get the brain to function properly — it just kept drifting away from me (see yesterday’s post re: how the morning started out). That stuff kind of depresses me when it happens, but oh well. The week’s over. On Friday, I can get back to work on Thug Luckless.
By late yesterday afternoon, I finally gave up on trying to write. So I streamed some things on the TV, waiting for the magical hour of 9pm, when Endeavour came on. I watched the above-mentioned Viking Warrior Women thing (fascinating, actually), and then another great episode of Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries. And then I also watched Napoleon Dynamite.
I had never seen that movie. It was a huge hit among teenagers back when it came out, but I was 44 when it came out! Anyway, I know that now it’s sort of culturally iconic so I wanted to finally watch it. I really enjoyed it. It was a very sweet & touching film, overall. And I did laugh out loud at a lot of it.
I took a walk over to the cemetery, too. Not to look at the graves, so much, as to see the panorama of cornfields. The cornfields are everywhere around here, and the corn is really tall now. It’s so pretty to look at it. For as far as the eye can see now, the valleys are filled with rows and rows of corn, and then the valleys are surrounded by green hills, covered in trees. Just really pretty to look at. Helps me forget all the COVID nonsense.
Meanwhile, more wonderful developments re: Tell My Bones. I’ll keep you updated when I can start blogging about it. I’m super excited by the potential prospects.
Okay, that’s it today, gang. I’m going to head into town now. Have a great Monday, wherever you are in the world!! Thanks for visiting. I leave you with my listening music from this morning — Bob Dylan, “It’s All Good,” from his Together Through Life album (2009). (Below is a live version, the only version I could find, but it’s all good!!!) All righty! Enjoy. I love you guys. See ya!
“It’s All Good”
Talk about me babe, if you must.
Throw out the dirt; pile on the dust.
I’d do the same thing if I could
You know what they say? They say it’s all good.
All good.
It’s all good.
Big politician telling lies;
Restaurant kitchen all full of flies.
Don’t make a bit of difference; don’t see why it should.
But it’s alright, cause its all good.
Its all good.
Its all good.
Wives are leavin’ their husbands; they’re beginning to roam.
They leave the party and they never get home.
I wouldn’t change it even if I could
You know what they say, man, it’s all good.
It’s all good.
All good.
Brick by brick, they tear you down.
A teacup of water is enough to drown.
You oughta know, if they could, they would
Whatever goin’ down, it’s all good.
All good.
Said it’s all good.
People in the country, People on the land.
Some of them so sick they can hardly stand.
Everybody would move away if they could
Its hard to believe but its all good.
Yeah…
Well widows cry; the orphans plea.
Everywhere you look there’s more misery.
Come along with me babe, I wish you would.
You know what I’m sayin’, it’s all good.
All good.
I said it’s all good.
All good.
Cold blooded killer stomp into town
Cop car’s blinkin’, something bad goin’ down.
Buildings are crumblin, in the neighborhood.
But there’s nothing to worry about, cause it’s all good.
It’s all good.
I say it’s all good.
Gonna whistle and blow it in your face.
This time tomorrow I’ll be rollin’ in your place.
I wouldn’t change a thing even if I could.
You know what they say?
They say it’s all good.
It’s all good.
It’s all good.
I did not want to get out of bed (eventually, though, I did).
I did NOT (capital letters there) want to get on the treadmill this morning, but after sitting on the edge of my bed and staring at stuff for almost 2 hours, I finally forced myself to go downstairs and get on the fucking treadmill.
Then I showered. Washed my hair. I have all the earmarks of someone who’s actually doing stuff here this morning, but I am struggling to make that happen.
Mostly, I know how depressed I can get if I avoid doing stuff, so I try to just make it happen. Plus, I’ve lost 7 pounds now. 5 more pounds and I’m back to pre-COVID weight. So I don’t want to lose sight of that.
Well, that documentary on Creem Magazine (Creem: America’s Only Rock & Roll Magazine), was really good. I can’t emphasize enough how that magazine shaped my perception of myself and music and New York City in the 1970s, and had a lot to do with me moving to NYC in 1980 (rather than to Nashville, which was where a lot of people said I should have moved).
It was really cool to see the interviews with some of the musicians who were around my age, who were also just as influenced by Creem. It was quite a magazine, there was just nothing like it.
The documentary is mostly about the people who started it and how & why it got started, and the personalities involved (many of the writers there became quite well known). Lots of 1970s-excesses, though, which lead, sadly to suicides and accidental deaths by overdose.
Plus, the zine was so indescribably politically incorrect that by today’s standards, people now would start twitter-storms and social media hate bombs. All that nonsense. There was never a racial problem with Creem — because back then, the music from the black communities and the white communities usually mixed. But the writers at Creem were often insensitive to absolutely everyone’s feelings — expecting the people they wrote about to stand up for themselves (they did!). And they were also writing simply to provoke and to get readers worked up and involved.
The magazine was actually really fun. And fucking funny. (For the reader, anyway.) I definitely enjoyed watching the documnetary and taking that trip down memory lane, where people weren’t so intensely hung up on stuff (politics).
Plus, I miss rock & roll. Which is just basically dead now.
All righty. Good news continues to develop regarding Tell My Bones, but I still can’t blog about it. But it’s certainly helping me feel like there is something on the horizon besides more and more COVID and more and more shouting about politics.
I’m hoping to just focus on Thug Luckless: Welcome to P-Town today, but then tonight!!! Season 7 of Endeavor begins on PBS!!!!! And I, for one, cannot wait!!
Well, I think that’s about it for today, gang. I hope you have a terrific Sunday, wherever you are in this wonderful world. Thanks for visiting. I leave you with the Everly Brothers this morning! I am currently listening to their Greatest Hits during the wee small hours of dawn. And this is certainly one of them: “Love Hurts.” (If you’re too young to know who the Everly Brothers were, they were actual brothers from Kentucky who sang and harmonized together like angels.) (Egos eventually got too big and they split up, but before that happened, they had tons of huge hits.) Okay, well, enjoy! I love you guys. See ya.
Okay, well, if you’re here wondering what happened to the new flash-memoir piece I posted here last night — I only wanted it up for about 12 hours. Since it’s brand new & unpublished, I didn’t want it to get too many views yet.
But thank you for all the “likes.” I appreciate it.
Today has been one of those days where I had to try to just get myself on automatic and make myself do stuff. It was one of those mornings where I didn’t really even want to get out of bed.
Well, I mean, I got up at my usual 5am, fed everyone, did all my millions of Inner Being Journal-type thingies down at the kitchen table, then went back upstairs and meditated, then went BACK to bed, and then didn’t feel like getting out of bed.
(I know, I am, like, just fucking neurotic. If you think I’d be hard to live with, imagine how I feel when I wake up each morning, 60 years running now, and realize: oh my god, she’s still here.…)
Okay, anyway.
I somehow managed to get on the treadmill, even though I absolutely did not want to work out today. And then, after my shower, I even forced myself to finally cut my hair. I cut off three inches and my hair still hits just below my shoulders. It had gotten so long. I really, really didn’t want to cut it because I love long hair, but it wasn’t really looking very attractive. So it had to go.
While I’m waiting on PBS Passport to air the new season of Endeavor (in 7 days), I’ve been splitting up my time in the evenings watching both the old Season 2 of Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries (which I watched 6 years ago, when it was new, but I don’t remember much of it so that’s fun), and then a newer show (also on Acorn TV), Dead Still.
That one is only a 6-part show, but I like it a lot. It’s quirky. The only drawback is that most of the characters have such heavy Irish accents that a lot of the dialogue I don’t actually understand. But I can still follow the plot. It’s not that tricky. And it’s really fun.
But as I had feared, having the Acorn TV subscription again is giving me way too many options for TV shows that really, really appeal to me. And I really don’t like watching (streaming) TV. It makes me feel like I’m wasting time.
Sometimes I try to convince myself that it’s “research” and it’s giving me an opportunity to see all the great new television writing that’s out there — and that’s partly true. But I have so much reading I could get caught up on in the evenings. Just during the pandemic, I’ve bought 20 new books. And so far, I’ve only finished reading about 3 or 4 of them.
Even though I need structure, otherwise I sit around, staring, and that almost always leads to terrible, terrible places; I still have just so much structure to my days, that it can start to make me go completely insane.
At some point before I die, I would really like to figure out how to just enjoy myself, without having a single darn thing to do from morning until night. I think I would really love that, as long as I had some sort of keeper, you know, who would keep my mind distracted.
Well, I did not make much headway with Thug Luckless yesterday, because I had to take another webinar mid-afternoon, and I wanted to take it in “real time” and not stream it later on. And then, on the heels of that, I had a great phone conversation with Kevin (director of Tell My Bones) about potential stuff for the staged reading of the play, which was really exciting. However. That all sort of skewed my energy for the rest of the day.
Today, however, I have nothing left on my schedule that I need to do but work on Thug Luckless, so that’s pretty cool. I am hoping that it’s going to be a productive day. (Yes, I know — I’ve just spent the last 5 hours doing what most people spread out over an entire day, so hoping that the day “is productive” is just fucking insane.)
Oh well. You know, if I didn’t have these cats counting on me — I realize that Kafka had TB, and that he eventually died from it, but I used to think that it was so cool that he would just go off and disappear in a sanitarium in the mountains for huge chunks of time and try to “get well.” (Kafka was almost as neurotic as I am.) (I’m just kidding, gang — he was one of the most neurotic writers that ever lived.) But sometimes, I just wish I could go off somewhere and “get well.” I really do!!
One of my favorite writers (and men) of all time.
Okay. On that note. Let me get going here. I hope you’re having a great Sunday, wherever you are in the world. Thanks for visiting, gang. I leave you with absolutely nothing today because what have I been listening to? Yes, that’s right — IZ singing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” over and over and over. I think that makes about 3 or 4 days running, doesn’t it? I have probably listened to it about 800 times now. And I don’t seem to be getting tired of it yet. (Methinks I would like to get to that place over the rainbow, but I’m not entirely certain about that yet!!)
All righty. Enjoy your day. I love you guys. See ya.
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.
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.
Here in Crazeysburg, the cocks — excuse me — the roosters are out and about, which is always exciting, and it is yet another incredibly beautiful day!!
(I’m kidding about the roosters, gang. They don’t actually allow you to keep chickens and such here in the Village of Crazeysburg itself. You have to take 14 steps out of the village if you want to do that.) (And I’m not kidding about that part.)
But that reminds me: A million years ago, Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers did a live radio broadcast out of Chicago, where they did just a killer (sexy) version of Howlin’ Wolf’s “Little Red Rooster”!
(This whole broadcast is actually really great. It totally kicks A. I don’t think it’s on an actual album or CD, but there is an MP3 download of it that you can get everywhere.)
Okay!! So!!
Today’s kind of a big day for me. Today is my big foray into Granville, Ohio, to have dinner with Kevin (Director of Tell My Bones) (in some future make-believe land, that is. All theater in NYC is shut down until 2021. I’m guessing NYC will never get back to normal, at this rate.)
Anyway. Kevin and I are having dinner at the Granville Inn and I have not done anything social, let alone been to the inn, since March 14th. I’m not entirely sure that I remember how to behave in public, but we’ll find out. Plus, this will be the first time I will put on my eye make-up in 3 and 1/2 months. So weird.
But I’m excited!! And also nervous. Because life is just plain different now. I’m guessing that if I let go of believing in anything I ever knew before, I should do all right.
Yesterday, I was working on Girl in the Night, and I guess I’ve just been doing too much typing these last few days, because the bones in the tops of my hands started to really hurt. So I took one extra-strength Tylenol and within minutes, my hands felt great but I was so sleepy I couldn’t even sit at my desk anymore! I had forgotten that those darn pills make me sleepy.
So the bulk of the day was not entirely productive, although I did have a nice day, regardless. And the lawn guy came to cut the grass, so the weeds — yard — is looking really spiffy.
And of course, by 9pm, I was quite perky and wide awake. And remained that way for a few hours, but I didn’t really feel like working at that point. So, after streaming another episode of Professor T., I just laid around on my bed in the dark — well, with the lights out. My bedroom is never actually dark because of the streetlights outside my window.
But I laid around on my bed in the dark, stared out the window at the truly beautiful night, watching the blinks of the fireflies wane, and I listened to Phoebe Bridgers’ new album, Punisher.
It’s kind of a depressing album, but it’s still beautiful and the lyrics are great. If I were closer to her age and not old enough to be her grandmother, I would likely relate to it a bit more, but I still really love her way with words. (Although the entire album makes me think of the song “Chasing Cars” by Snow Patrol. So I ended up playing that beautiful, non-depressing song over & over, and then finally fell to sleep.)
But back to listening to Phoebe Bridgers — I was thinking, once again, how incredible it is for young women nowadays to be able to make any kind of music they want to; to write any kind of songs they want to and have them sound however they want them to sound. Because it definitely didn’t used to be that way.
Plus there’s room now for so many more women musicians and songwriters and performers. They used to sign about one or two per genre, and then get behind them for about 2 albums, as long as they proved to be massive hits. Of course, back then, there was so much more money at stake for the various music industry gatekeepers, and all that’s been thoroughly “disrupted” now by everyone wanting so much music for free (and I won’t get political today, I’ll just say, that Socialist tendencies are so great, gang; it helps make everybody equally poor).
However!!
I do genuinely think it’s so great that women in music nowadays have so much more freedom to express what they want to express, however they want to express it. And I think that’s just so beautiful.
And something else that is amazingly beautiful, is the Red Hand Files thing that Nick Cave sent out today. You don’t even have to know his music, or know the album Ghosteen, to be able to appreciate what he has to say about love today. You can read it here if you are so inclined.
On that note, gang, I’m going to get started here. I’ll leave you with both the beautiful song “Punisher,” by Phoebe Bridgers, and the equally beautiful though very different song “Chasing Cars,” by Snow Patrol. Relax and enjoy!! (Or float off into the stratosphere is probably more like it!!) But either way, thanks for visiting! I love you guys! See ya!
“Punisher”
When the speed kicks in
I go to the store for nothing
And walk right by
The house where you lived with Snow White
I wonder if she ever thought
The storybook tiles on the roof were too much
But from the window, it’s not a bad show
If your favorite thing’s Dianetics or stucco
The drugstores are open all night
The only real reason I moved to the east side
I love a good place to hide in plain sight
What if I told you I feel like I know you
But we never met?
And here everyone knows you’re the way to my heart
Hear so many stories of you at the bar
Most times alone and some looking your worst
But never not sweet to the trust funds and punishers
Man, I wish that I could say the same
I swear I’m not angry, that’s just my face
A copycat killer with a chemical cut
Either I’m careless or I wanna get caught
Ooh, I’m not
What if I told you I feel like I know you
But we never met?
It’s for the best
I can’t open my mouth and forget how to talk
‘Cause even if I could, wouldn’t know where to start
Wouldn’t know when to stop
So far, it’s been just an amazing summer. The weather, I mean. And today is going to be yet another gorgeous day!
Before I forget, I did post another chapter yesterday on the In the Shadow of Narcissa website. This one is titled “I See God Everywhere.”
Also, yesterday — remember, a few days ago, I posted that photo of my new Val Kilmer coffee mug, with the Doc Holliday movie quote? I had also posted that photo on my Instagram feed and apparently Val Kilmer saw it, because he sent it out on his own Instagram feed yesterday. (The limited edition mugs are only available until tomorrow — July 1st.)
Well, that was a totally unexpected little thrill, however, it sent quite a number of scammers to my Instagram feed yesterday. Now that I’ve made my account public, anyone can follow me. But I patiently go through every single follower and block anyone that seems like a scammer, and they were coming all day yesterday.
And it was fun to have my picture posted there, too — the cup is sitting on the cafe table out on my kitchen porch:
My trip to town yesterday was splendid! I have never seen the Honda dealership so empty. I think there were maybe 5 people sitting in the waiting room (myself, included). Most people wearing masks, but not everybody. But the seats were all placed 6-feet apart.
I kind of liked it, actually. Usually, it’s a mob scene in the Honda waiting room! And it can take forever for them to finish your car. I was there less than 30 minutes, and they had changed the oil, topped the fluids, rotated the tires, and even washed the car. So, you know, one of the sort of “nice” things about the virus, I guess.
Tomorrow evening, Kevin (the director of my play) and I are finally going to go have dinner at the Granville Inn. I have missed that place so much, but I’ve had my trepidations about going there while it was easing out of lockdown because everyone has to wear masks. And I’m sort of afraid to see it like that.
Those non-mask days of yesteryear…
But, tomorrow, we’re going! I’ve been hearing that it’s crazy busy there — meaning, busy while remaining at 50% capacity. So we’ll see. I haven’t been there since St. Patrick’s weekend.
Then on Thursday, I have a phone conference with my accountant in NYC, because Peitor and I have to formally set up Abstract Absurdity Productions. I always love talking to my accountant because he is always a straight shooter and I get off the phone sort of in renewed & devastating shock over just how fucking much every single fucking business-related thing costs.
Still. It’s better to know than to be surprised when you can least afford it.
And then sometime later this week, Peitor and I have a conference call with the line producer in LA to see just how we might be able to come up with a budget that doesn’t undersell our film but that doesn’t make all of us fall out of our chairs, either!!
Other than that, life is pretty much quiet around here. I’m going to be tackling Letter #8 again for Girl in the Night. I’m hoping that the unexpected detour into In the Shadow of Narcissa will help Letter #8 seem fresh & brand new today!! I do love the 3 and 1/2 pages I’ve written (and re-written and re-written) so far, but I really, really would like it to finally finish itself, you know? It’s dragging on forever.
So, on that note, I will take my leave, gang! I hope you have a terrific Tuesday, wherever you are in the world!! Thanks for visiting. I leave you with one of my favorite songs from my wee bonny girlhood (mentioned in my new chapter for In the Shadow of Narcissa — I absolutely loved this song when I was little, gang, although a bunch of children were singing the version I knew back then): “This Land is Your Land” by the late, great Woody Guthrie.
All righty!! Enjoy. I love you guys. Have a great day. See ya!!
Can you believe it’s already late June?? Peaches are beginning to get ripe? A moment ago, it was February…
I have, like, a hard time getting my mind around that. And even though we’re mostly out of lock down around here, and Kevin (the director of my play, Tell My Bones — whenever that manages to get off the ground again, sometime in 2021); well, he and I keep saying we’re going to meet for dinner at the Granville Inn — I keep sort of dragging my feet because I’m not sure I want to see that beloved place with everyone wearing masks.
But of course, if everyone thinks that way, then nothing will get back to normal.
Anyway. It’s late June and I still halfway feel like I’m still in lockdown mode. But part of that is okay because the evenings around here have just been splendid.
By late afternoon, I finally was able to pull myself out of what was happening to me yesterday, gang, but it got really really bad before I was able to do that.
I don’t know why, but sometimes, my triggers get hit so hard (by key people in my life) that the spiraling down just takes over and happens so fast. I get like a zombie; it’s so awful. At its worst point, I went out and took a walk, but I had to absolutely force myself.
I walked into the dollar store and bought vitamins that I didn’t even really need — clearly not someone hell bent on self-destruction, right? Just trying to interact with reality. And with the nice lady behind the checkout counter. She smiled and said, “How are you today?” And I was forced to be fake and say, “I’m good. How are you?” But it helps. It really does — hearing my voice say that. It’s at least something that’s not telling me to die.
Then on my way back home, I ran into two older men (strangers) from the senior living complex, who were sitting on the bench in the town square (that’s really a triangle). One of them was old enough to need a walker, but both of them were just so friendly and so nice. They forced me to remember for a few moments that life is beautiful. That I have every right to live.
Just two of the angels who came to my assistance yesterday. (I rely on some truly beautiful unknown angels; I really do.)
This thing that happens in my brain has nothing to do with how I actually feel about myself here & now. It’s an old program, an old voice, that gets triggered. Usually, I can override it all by myself. But yesterday was one of the scarier days.
You know, back when Tom Petty managed to become a heroin addict at age 50, it dawned on me that it was never too late to become a heroin addict. Or when all those famous movie stars who became alcoholics in their later years, wound up drinking themselves to death, it served to remind me that it was never too late to become an incurable alcoholic. And then, when one of my colleagues — a very well-known erotic photographer — jumped to his death from his balcony in San Francisco a couple years ago, when he was in his late 70s… It’s just that horrible reminder that I never know what my brain is likely to start telling me if I’m not incredibly vigilant.
I did manage to get some work done — focusing on “tasks” kept my mind from doing that horrible shit. At one point, though, I was on Instagram, looking up the suicide hashtag and interestingly enough, when you enter that hashtag, a little gatekeeper comes up with a link to “Get Help.”
That was actually enough to shake me out of my tunnel vision — should I get help? — but I proceeded to the hashtag anyway. To see what people who think about suicide had posted there. But then it actually led me to some Anne Sexton poems, so I decided to follow the Anne Sexton hashtag instead, and that got me to a much better place. And eventually, it got me right back to my desk.
So, I was able to get some work done on Girl in the Night , and also tackle a lot of the stuff on my To-Do list for Abstract Absurdity Productions. That kind of focusing helped turned down the voice in my head a lot.
And then somebody I care about so much came through so unexpectedly, in spades, yesterday, and I was able to completely break the spiral.
Speaking of Tom Petty — the battling Petty clan seems to be coming to some sort of agreement to move forward on those early Wildflower tracks that were never released. And today, at TomPetty.com, the first song from that batch will be debuted. An 8-track version of his song “You Don’t Know How It Feels.”
I’m not sure I need to hear an 8-track version of that specific song, but I am really eager to hear that Wildflowers Part 2 collection, whenever it comes out. (Plenty of unreleased songs that he actually wanted released are supposed to be on it.)
I don’t know if you tuned into the NASA YouTube channel to watch the guys go off on their space walk this morning — at one point, nearly 77,000 viewers were streaming it. Wow, they have to wear so much stuff to go out for a walk in space. But it was still nice to see that Russians and Americans can thrive together way the heck out in outer space!! (If you’re too young to remember the original “space race” — the USA and the USSR couldn’t have been less accommodating of each other back then. To put it extremely mildly.)
Well, all righty. I guess I will get to work here on this beautiful day. Today, I know it’s Friday!! I have all my faculties in working order here today. So I hope you are gearing up for a nice weekend, wherever you are in the world. Thanks for visiting, gang.
Today, I will leave you with Neil Diamond yet again, but a much more uplifting song than yesterday’s (which was also a favorite of mine, even though it was sad). This one today is one that I post here a lot. But it is such a great song! “Sweet Caroline.” Who can ever get tired of it?? And this is such a great version of it. Okay. Enjoy, gang. I love you guys. See ya!
I’ve been sitting here at my desk in front of the blog template for almost an hour already, unable to clear my mind and get to someplace fun & happy!
I hate using this blog to preach about shit, but I also hate just ignoring the blog for an entire day because I can’t think of something fun & happy.
So many of my readers here are not from the US. You come here to the blog every day from South America, Central America, Western Europe, Eastern Europe, Africa, Asia and countries of the Far East, the Middle East, the Near East, India, Canada, and Russia.
And of course it makes me wonder what you can possibly think about this insane country of ours, especially now.
Oh — and by the way, in case you hadn’t already heard, Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds announced yesterday that their North American tour, which was set to begin this fall, has been cancelled.
And, NO, they didn’t say it was because the US is so insane right now that they wouldn’t be caught dead here…. it was something to do with a pandemic.
Anyway!!
The news here this morning is that Columbus — the nearest city to Crazeysburg, 50 miles from here — announced that those few nights of rioting is going to cost the city and its small businesses over $3 million. (This doesn’t count what the pandemic has cost them, either. Small businesses have absolutely lost their shirts from the virus.) (If you don’t understand that phrase — it means that you have lost everything, including the shirt off your back.)
(I don’t know — doesn’t that look like at least 3 million more votes in Trump’s lap? Hmmm….)
That remark wasn’t really my point. My point is that this is a democracy, and people are always going to protest about something, and sometimes the protests will be violent, and there are always going to be factions in this country virulently opposed to other factions in this country. And the fact that we are allowed to have our opposing ideas, and even our violent opinions, and our individual understanding of what truth is even when it’s completely at odds with what everybody else’s truth is, is what makes a democracy so sacred to human rights.
However, the thing that confounds me about the US now is this whole up-swelling of younger people who have the misunderstanding that a democracy is a “cancel-out” culture. That if someone disagrees with you, that person needs to be cancelled out (silenced) in some way.
(My problem with my play, Tell My Bones, comes under that banner, but I want to add that the director called me twice yesterday, assuring me that he was not abandoning the play. That we were going to have to wait it out, for when NYC gets back to some sort of “normal.”)
The sad situation in our country is that most public schools no longer teach History or Government, or even World History. Private schools are where children get the prime education nowadays — whether they are Catholic schools or strictly academic schools.
Public schools are no longer funded well enough to focus on anything but the basics. There’s no Art, no Music — without parents paying separately for it, and then it usually happens after school. A lot of the schools no longer even have libraries. And even the school sports teams are funded by parents paying for the kids to be on the team.
Yes — isn’t that insane? You no longer have to try out and see if you’re good enough to make the team. If your parents can afford to pay for you to be on it, you’re on the team.
What’s even worse, is that sports like swim teams, that hand out trophies for 1st, 2nd, 3rd place — well, now anyone who participates gets a trophy. Just for showing up. Because no one wants any of the kids to have hurt feelings.
This has been going on for a couple of decades already.
Even at the college level — a friend of mine is a college professor and he’s not allowed to use red ink to grade papers because the color red is too threatening to students.
This is not a joke. This is real. Red ink is too threatening.
An entire culture of young people coming out of our public schools who are not adept at handling challenges or conflicts or the opposing opinions of others.
And they aren’t taught how a democracy is run, either. They don’t even study the Constitution of the United States or the Bill of Rights anymore (in public schools). They aren’t taught History, for godsakes. Or that tolerance, however difficult it can be, or impossible it can feel sometimes; it’s the foundation of the civil liberties of all Americans.
(And I guarantee you that a lot of politicians are banking on you not having a clue what the fuck is really going on with all that anymore. Even if you think you’re on the “right” side. That same side is banking on you not knowing how to even really think.)
I just saw a comment just this morning where a well-known Hollywood actor was making a movie about a revolution in another country and he said that it made him think about how the Europeans came to America and what happened then to the Native Americans who were already here.
Honestly — he had to act in a movie in Hollywood before that thought occurred to him??!! WTF??!!
When you study History and World History and Government you learn about things that are really important.
About how history has an uncanny way of repeating itself — all over the world. And to expect that violence is met with violence — so, if you want to choose violence, which is your right, you need to expect violence to come right back at you. Whether you’ve murdered someone, or whether you’re fighting for your inalienable right to live.
It has astounded me, the outcry in the national news that the recent riots were met with riot police, or even the militia. Or that what was intended to be a peaceful protest became violent anyway — on either side. Or that people with an organized agenda of some kind will barricade themselves behind innocent, well-meaning people and allow them to become victims of violence that they didn’t start.
Where is the “news” in that? This has gone on throughout all time.
And so many people bringing up now what happened at Kent State in 1970, when the Ohio National Guard was called in and unarmed students were killed.
Yeah, that happened. I’m surprised they didn’t teach you that in school. It’s part of our history — people fighting for change and for their rights and losing their lives because of it.
I can’t forget it because I lived here back then. Ohio was very violent back then, and the country itself was very violent. Non-military groups, of all colors, were arming themselves and were setting off bombs everywhere and blowing up buildings. Shooting all sorts of people — on all sides. Aside from flat-out assassinations, well-known public people, from politicians to pornographers, wound up in wheelchairs for life because of snipers’ bullets. And riots were common. And blow back was common.
It’s awful. I’m a pacifist and always have been. I cannot handle violence. I expect something more rational from all people. And I’m usually really disappointed. But violence is a part of an equation. We’re all allowed to make any choice we want to make, but we also have to at least be aware that no action exists in a vacuum. There’s going to be a reaction — it’s part of the laws of Physics.
That stuff that they teach you in school, right?
Anyway. It all sucks, of course. But what I have a hard time dealing with is this lack of education in a huge section of America, and this lack of critical thinking and this idea that Liberals — who were once the embodiment of tolerance — are now at the forefront of the culture of cancelling-out; of silencing people; of the idea that someone is not entitled to their views if they oppose yours.
And this lack of History. My god. Honestly. If I see one more person putting forth the image of Bob Dylan and quoting his song “The Times They Are A-Changing”, I’m going to scream.
The times are changing. It’s a no-brainer, gang. But you’d be much better equipped quoting other songs he wrote, that weren’t so “feel-good.” He wrote a ton of them. I leave you with a couple of those today.
All right thanks for visiting, gang. I love you guys. See ya.
“Only A Pawn In Their Game”
A bullet from the back of a bush took Medgar Evers’ blood
A finger fired the trigger to his name
A handle hid out in the dark
A hand set the spark
Two eyes took the aim
Behind a man’s brain
But he can’t be blamed
He’s only a pawn in their game
A South politician preaches to the poor white man
“You got more than blacks, don’t complain
You’re better than them, you been born with white skin” they explain
And the Negro’s name
Is used it is plain
For the politician’s gain
As he rises to fame
And the poor white remains
On the caboose of the train
But it ain’t him to blame
He’s only a pawn in their game
The deputy sheriffs, the soldiers, the governors get paid
And the marshals and cops get the same
But the poor white man’s used in the hands of them all like a tool
He’s taught in his school
From the start by the rule
That the laws are with him
To protect his white skin
To keep up his hate
So he never thinks straight
‘Bout the shape that he’s in
But it ain’t him to blame
He’s only a pawn in their game
From the poverty shacks, he looks from the cracks to the tracks
And the hoof beats pound in his brain
And he’s taught how to walk in a pack
Shoot in the back
With his fist in a clinch
To hang and to lynch
To hide ‘neath the hood
To kill with no pain
Like a dog on a chain
He ain’t got no name
But it ain’t him to blame
He’s only a pawn in their game
Today, Medgar Evers was buried from the bullet he caught
They lowered him down as a king
But when the shadowy sun sets on the one
That fired the gun
He’ll see by his grave
On the stone that remains
Carved next to his name
His epitaph plain
Only a pawn in their game
Oh, my name—it ain’t nothin’
My age—it means less
The country I come from
Is called the Midwest
I’s taught and brought up there
The laws to abide
And that the land that I live in
Has God on its side
Oh, the history books tell it
They tell it so well
The cavalries charged
The Indians fell
The cavalries charged
The Indians died
Oh, the country was young
With God on its side
The Spanish-American
War had its day
And the Civil War too
Was soon laid away
And the names of the heroes
I’s made to memorize
With guns in their hands
And God on their side
The First World War, boys
It came and it went
The reason for fighting
I never did get
But I learned to accept it
Accept it with pride
For you don’t count the dead
When God’s on your side
The Second World War
Came to an end
We forgave the Germans
And then we were friends
Though they murdered six million
In the ovens they fried
The Germans now too
Have God on their side
I’ve learned to hate the Russians
All through my whole life
If another war comes
It’s them we must fight
To hate them and fear them
To run and to hide
And accept it all bravely
With God on my side
But now we got weapons
Of chemical dust
If fire them we’re forced to
Then fire them we must
One push of the button
And a shot the world wide
And you never ask questions
When God’s on your side
Through many dark hour
I’ve been thinkin’ about this
That Jesus Christ
Was betrayed by a kiss
But I can’t think for you
You’ll have to decide
Whether Judas Iscariot
Had God on his side
So now as I’m leavin’
I’m weary as Hell
The confusion I’m feelin’
Ain’t no tongue can tell
The words fill my head
And they fall to the floor
That if God’s on our side
He’ll stop the next war
Well, somehow I got through yesterday. Many phone calls — all of which helped me find balance and perspective, and redirect my focus toward the future, and all my other projects.
A few of you wrote to me yesterday (thank you), some of you not understanding why my having written a play about a black painter is now considered “racist.”
The term is actually “cultural appropriation,” which means that white people are not supposed to write about black lives because we can never truly understand them and would therefore create a false perspective of what it means to be black in America.
I can agree with that, but only so far; only up to a point. At some point, we all become human beings. I wrote a play about a woman’s life with not only her full consent to write about her, but with her very deep hope that her story would reach the world in some way.
I also feel that the accusation of cultural appropriation threatens to ghettoize all writers, because it also means that blacks can only write about black lives; Asians can only write about Asians; Latinos can only write about the Latino experience of life on Earth; Native Americans can only write about Native Americans; and Eskimos or any other indigenous people, are only capable of expressing what life on Earth means to an Eskimo, etc. Men can’t write about women; women can’t write about men; Gays can’t grasp the lives of straight people, and straights can’t imagine what it’s like to be Gay.
It gets dangerous to compartmentalize everyone’s experience of Life on Earth, gang.
However, sadly, I saw this coming a few weeks ago — even before the Black Lives Matter protests exploded again with the murder of George Floyd in Minneapolis — because I attended a poetry reading online that truly alarmed me in its rage and anti-white agenda.
It was a fundraiser, and at the time, I was impressed that they’d raised $9,000 during a pandemic. Until another fundraiser I attended online — a multi-cultural poetry reading, heavy with Latino/Latina poets — raised $140,000 in 24 hours, during the same pandemic.
I was just incredibly alarmed, gang, by all the “vibes.” I could tell that something was going to absolutely explode. And I could also tell that my play was going to somehow get hit by shrapnel.
Anyway. It did. It has. And now on we go, toward the future.
I have no lack of projects to devote my attention to — and that’s an understatement. And I hope that all the sorrow and devastation I felt yesterday, cleared the deck for me emotionally, and I can get back to focusing on these other things. For instance, Girl in the Night sits there with only one additional sentence since Sunday. And everything else imaginable remains, basically, half done.
But it is a really unbelievably beautiful day here today. And I slept great (through some miracle), and I am still in love with my life. I don’t really give credence to that saying “everything happens for a reason,” because I’m more of a firm believer that once something is created, it lives, and it goes out into the world, either in spirit or in physical form, or maybe even both. Allow creation to happen for the joy of creation itself. Just allow — you know?
It’s not always easy to get to that place of allowing, but it beats the energy of resisting. For sure.
Okay. I hope you all have a terrific Tuesday underway out there, wherever you are in the world! Thanks for visiting, gang. I leave you with something I was listening to, just for the hell of it. The joy of it. For the years gone by and all the joy and dreams-under-the-bridge-of-it! “Emotional Rescue,” by the Rolling Stones. This was their album that was a huge hit at the time that I moved to New York City, in 1980 (at age 20) and finally started having my “real” life.
So listen and just rejoice, gang. I love you guys! See ya!