A new poem video of my new work, The Long Goodnight of the August Night.
Cape Cod has been on my mind lately. So I recently revisited the Cape by way of Thoreau, in the NewPages blog.
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.
Beyond the wall of sound
Recently put aside the behemoth manuscript of the novel started this summer — and from the same source came a dozen new HEAVEN songs.
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.
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.