Summer travel

Cape Cod has been on my mind late­ly. So I recent­ly revis­it­ed the Cape by way of Thore­au, in the New­Pages blog.

The video’s on YouTube.

This is one of sev­er­al short book essays I’ve writ­ten this sum­mer — I’ve read about 18 books since the last week of May.

My mind has also been on the future replace­ment of this site, which I’ve been think­ing of for years, and see that it’s prob­a­bly about time to do.

Growth and coming change

I don’t believe in pol­i­tics. I nev­er real­ly did — I’m of no par­ty what­so­ev­er and I have no inter­est and I abjure myself entire­ly of all of it. It’s all a tired LOL and not for me. I just don’t care. Almost noth­ing could be more bor­ing. Sure, I’ve been tricked and conned and fooled and pulled like any­one else, like almost every­one. The only answer is to sim­ply ignore it. Just like ‘social media,’ which is one of the biggest bor­ing jokes and cons of this wreck­éd age. All real friend­ship, life and liv­ing hap­pens off-plat­form, and peo­ple who want to live need to remem­ber that.

There are no answers — only ques­tions. The more I know the more ques­tions that I have and the more that I keep ask­ing. There’s noth­ing else to do. I am inter­est­ed in the long and near, the gone and far away, the moments in our reach that melt away. This is what I’m inter­est­ed in and this is what my work is all about. Writ­ing, sto­ries, nov­els, songs, images and objects made — that’s what mat­ters.

I don’t like Word­Press, either, and I know this site and home­made theme has long out­lived its sim­ple use­ful­ness — it’s time to return to plain HTML and the good hand­cod­ed text of yore, and I’m about to. In my own time — I’m still offline, work­ing and doing, and I enjoy the dis­tance and the silence.

Lounge nights

In the course of going through and mak­ing sense of my sprawl­ing and unwieldy vinyl col­lec­tion, I’ve been shar­ing what I find by DJing at clubs. When I start­ed, I won­dered why I had­n’t done it soon­er. So I’m spin­ning at Por­co Lounge and Tiki Room again this month — most­ly vin­tage lounge, and inevitably this night will end up as a kind of trib­ute to Doris Day. A decade ago — almost to the day — I stayed at her place in Carmel. I knew her pass­ing was inevitable, but it was still sad when it hap­pened. She was the end of some­thing.