Instant Writing

Obsessed about a new kind of writ­ing, some­thing more inter­est­ing, and imme­di­ate, than what’s hap­pen­ing in social media or any­where else, cer­tainly books—and it was seen in the thrim and shim­mer of the ligh­trays and lush at a disco loft party last night. There for a sec­ond, a mir­rored moment alone, when my ancient idea of “instant writ­ing” was haunt­ing me hard, some of it came out quickly in great nat­ural clarity—it was strong, ver­nal, and maybe the only way out that was rea­son­ably possible.

Because look: I’ve cre­ated a moun­tain range of backed-up work in jour­nals and files and piles of pocket note­books all to tran­scribe, and there’s sim­ply no way to gather it en masse together and orga­nize it with­out stop­ping, and time, and mean­while more—the ideas keep gush­ing forth in their fast-flowing froth and I know that the most likely way of fin­ish­ing these big leg­ends and books is maybe to write them all out in real­time just as they hap­pen, and instantly with fast strokes & brushthought life is trans­muted to word.

Treasure Island Redux

Trea­sure Island, Florida and its envi­rons is one of the best hotbeds of mid-century mod­ern archi­tec­ture in America—right on the Gulf of Mex­ico, about a mile from Jack Kerouac’s last home, was an exam­ple of every major archi­tec­tural style and trend from America’s high point.

In an effort to bring aware­ness to what they had, years ago I got Trea­sure Island on the front page of The New York Times. They didn’t get it then, even as the national spot­light was thrown upon them.

I’ve been mak­ing some trips down there to doc­u­ment what’s left, and I’ve become hap­pily sur­prised by some­thing else: there’s new inter­est and hope in his­toric preser­va­tion. Now that mid-century mod­ern is so hot, this might be a very good year for the city.

Tropic Terrace

The Sands

Silenced.

Con­trol the medium and you con­trol what’s pos­si­ble on it. Lan­guage is the medium of thought. So the way to cur­tail thought is to take away the tools that make it pos­si­ble — ban words and phrases, change their mean­ings, out­law cer­tain expres­sions … and sud­denly whole ideas are for­bid­den, if not impossible.

Today the so-called “lit­er­ary” press is among the worst of the politically-correct con­trollers. That’s why con­tem­po­rary lit­er­a­ture is so weak and use­less — it has no cul­tural cachet, the novel and poetry have almost no pres­ence or power in pub­lic life. “Lit­er­ary” is a syn­onym for weak-minded, aca­d­e­mic PC junk that isn’t worth your time.

I won’t sup­port them, and in return they won’t sup­port me, either — Cir­cuits of the Wind isn’t sim­plis­tic enough for them, they hate a lot of words and ideas in the book, and they sure don’t like white males — dead or alive.

So I was hon­ored to be a part of Loren Feldman’s doc­u­men­tary film Silenced: Our War on Free Speech, pro­duced by Mike Cer­novich. It’s exactly about that. And a lot of us aren’t shut­ting up about it anymore.

Watch Silenced on Vimeo.

Silenced: Our War on Free Speech