SATURDAY ATTITUDE

I WRITE THESE SONGS TO INHABIT THE VIBE. The Imagination is Delusion-adjacent, of course, and I’ve spent most of my life tinkering with that machinery. Whenever I write, sing or listen to these songs, I am a citizen of The Vibe, I am THERE. Where is “There”? THERE is sort of a glittery, sensual, optimistic and Art-bedazzled ’60s-’70s Zone (without the Nasty Racism and Sexism and Vietnam War Shit we all went through), and it features a permanent, mellow, late-afternoon breeze redolent of Jasmine and English Leather, Baby. It’s not a “flower child” thing… I’m not promoting Geopolitical Naïveté or … Continue reading SATURDAY ATTITUDE

CHEAP ‘N PAINLESS LESSONS IN WRITING, SESSION #5: THE KITSCH-BALANCE

[a 10.5-minute skim] There are two dominant kinds of Kitsch in the Fiction grift: Sentimental Kitsch and The Kitsch of The Awesome, both being unrealistic corrections, or dishonest improvements, on Life as it is governed and defined by Natural Laws of the Universe.* —-Type One: Sentimental Kitsch, as a Literary category, is best embodied by Romance Novels, in which the erotically-magnetized protagonists never defecate, fart, get the squirts from roadside Mexican restaurants in Tijuana, suffer from bad breath, cellulite, thinning or frizzy hair, tiny penises, lopsided boobs, bowlegs or hangnails. —-Type Two: Kitsch of the Awesome is exemplified by the … Continue reading CHEAP ‘N PAINLESS LESSONS IN WRITING, SESSION #5: THE KITSCH-BALANCE

QUADRIPEDAL FEELZ ‘n EXPLICIT ADVICE

OFFSPRUNG’s UK Boyfriend (OSUKBF)  stayed with us for three weeks (!),  during the Xmas break, and,  before it came to pass,  I viewed the possibility with trepidation. But OSUKBF was a delight (I even wrote a song for him to sing, I got one of my engineers to record it, we produced it quickly, Offsprung’s boyfriend loves the song and wants to record more when he returns: email me if you’d like to hear this banger)…  he returned to the UK on January 19th and we went back to normal, though I had ended up eating too many cakes and … Continue reading QUADRIPEDAL FEELZ ‘n EXPLICIT ADVICE

PUBLIC CONVOs: “INCEST AND AFRO-AMERICAN LITERATURE” & “WHY IS DFW A RED FLAG FOR PEOPLE?”

CONVO ONE: “INCEST AND AFRO-AMERICAN LITERATURE” THE PREMISE “For black history month, I’ve read The Color Purple and Toni Morrison’s The Bluest Eye. I loved both books, however I was quite surprised and shocked to see that both books started with an incest. Both books at the very first page have a story of a black girl who gets pregnant as a result of an assault by her father. This is such a taboo topic, so I’m sure there’s a reason why the two authors decided two put it at the center of their books. Why would they do that? … Continue reading PUBLIC CONVOs: “INCEST AND AFRO-AMERICAN LITERATURE” & “WHY IS DFW A RED FLAG FOR PEOPLE?”

LOVE IN THE EARLY STAGES (a factual short story of dubious shortness)

LOVE IN THE EARLY STAGES: A BIOGRAPHICAL REPRINT I arrived in Berlin the early evening of November 13, 1990, at Tegel Airport, flying out of London. I arrived in Berlin just shortly after suppertime. I arrived with a woman I barely knew. Two male friends of this woman met us at the  empty arrivals gate of the airport and drove us from the airport to the flat that I was planning to sublet for a year. The flat I was planning to sublet was occupied by Cali, a German DJ, who was friends of the woman I arrived with. I … Continue reading LOVE IN THE EARLY STAGES (a factual short story of dubious shortness)

CHEAP ‘N PAINLESS LESSONS IN WRITING, SESSION #4: EXPOSITION

[a 9-minute skim] I get updates from the Lit-Thing called “Narrative” because it satisfies my morbid curiosity about the ongoing trend of gradually replacing  all poets,  with actresses and fashion models,  by 2030. Sometimes the “poems” it deposits in my in-box are so absurdly twee or plain bad that it makes Woody Allen, with his Orgasmatron-using, swastika-emblazoned, McKuen-citing nitwits  (as seen in his prophetic docudrama, Sleeper) seem smarter than Orwell. But sometimes Narrative (and this is the disturbing part) brings us Writers who are known… and, even worse, sometimes it brings us Writers who are not bad, or,  even,  good. … Continue reading CHEAP ‘N PAINLESS LESSONS IN WRITING, SESSION #4: EXPOSITION

CHEAP ‘N PAINLESS LESSONS IN WRITING, SESSION #3: WRITING ABOUT SEX(X)

[a ten-hour skim] Writing about Sex is like cooking with garlic: the garlic is not the point. Imagine writing a scene in which two important characters share a meal and you’re therefore lavishing all of your descriptive powers on that act of eating (and, possibly,  attempting to elevate this act to a level of kitschy spiritual symbolism that neither Eating nor Sex can realistically support), leaving almost everything else out of the scene. Imagine doing that several times in a novel: it would be peculiar to do so. Eating is great but… right? Garlic is great…. Imagine, instead, the meal … Continue reading CHEAP ‘N PAINLESS LESSONS IN WRITING, SESSION #3: WRITING ABOUT SEX(X)

CHEAP ‘N PAINLESS LESSONS IN WRITING, SESSION #2: THE TEN THOUSAND HOURS

[a 22-second skim] Germans have a word for mixed-raced people: “Mischlings”. It’s considered a pejorative term here in Berlin  (the equivalent of “mongrel,” perhaps) but I like it. I like how it sounds and I like the fact that it isn’t as pseudo-technically specific as words like “Mulatto” or “Quadroon,” because those words purport to denote the precise proportion of mixing involved in the production of a given Mischling. People always asked me, when I was a kid, what I was and I often answered “mixed,” when it was safe to do so, having learned to read people, fairly young, … Continue reading CHEAP ‘N PAINLESS LESSONS IN WRITING, SESSION #2: THE TEN THOUSAND HOURS

CHEAP ‘N PAINLESS LESSONS IN WRITING, LESSON #1: METAPHORS/ ENDINGS/ PRESUMPTIVE IQs

[a 3-second skim] This 14-page short story (cited below) contains 15 instances of  “as if”.  That’s roughly an “as if” per page. Trimming the “as if” stuff would streamline the pacing and strengthen the metaphors the “as if” bits introduce. Trust the reader to be intelligent enough to guess that “The Moon was a curtainless window,” for example (mine),  is a metaphor, not a statement meant to be taken literally, within the reality of the text, and, bonus: that sleeker sentence simply reads better than “As if the Moon were a curtainless window… “.  Lopping off the “as if” leaves … Continue reading CHEAP ‘N PAINLESS LESSONS IN WRITING, LESSON #1: METAPHORS/ ENDINGS/ PRESUMPTIVE IQs

VIRGINIA DON’T

February 14, 1948 Dearest Isaak: How can I begin but to beg forgiveness for the shameful lateness of this letter? But considering the circumstances I’m sure you’ll agree that it’s a miracle that I’m writing at all, or doing anything, for that matter, & no one is more surprised than I am about my apparent return to the land of the living after giving myself up for dead. I honestly could not imagine even finding the will to put food in this mouth after what happened & for the first few days I didn’t. Virginia was the first and last … Continue reading VIRGINIA DON’T

IF BERLIN (poems)

if berlin (poems) notes Late in the year 2007 I began work on a cycle of narrative pomes following six characters around Berlin for six months (it was originally to be a year but I ran out of time; this thing was consuming my Life). The simple rules: 1) a pome every week 2) develop some characters. I did this originally for the website of a famous Anglophone bookstore. The characters are: a male couple (Dante and Ted), a female student-type from Chile (Malena), a wealthy Art Couple (the von Bredows) and a retired American expat with a blog (Val). … Continue reading IF BERLIN (poems)

EXCERPTS FROM “THE VELVETEEN GULAG” [a memoir]: CHAPTER 2: IMAGINED

[re-posted every year around this time] 1– I can’t remember if it was Kurt’s idea. Maybe it was mine. Ideas come out of the air at that age. As you grow older they have to be created. Also the idea of driving to New York before Christmas was more of an impulse than an idea. Though, again, at that age, ideas are impulses. They are hormones. Wait… that’s right… …It was Kurt’s idea. He didn’t want to spend Xmas with his mother. He thought that by driving out there a couple of weeks before Xmas day he could avoid the highest … Continue reading EXCERPTS FROM “THE VELVETEEN GULAG” [a memoir]: CHAPTER 2: IMAGINED

FOUR DYSTOPIAN SHORT STORIES SET IN THE SAME YEAR BUT VERY DIFFERENT REGIONS OF THE WESTERN HEMISPHERE

  THE BLACK DISC Beatle George chopped and sanded one of the thick old split-center cutting boards from the  kitchen into a fat disk. We were going to discard it anyway.  Beatle George glued the split, then he drew a red circle on it by tracing a plate with a medical marker.  When Beatle George cut the circle out of the square with a very loud table saw, peddling furiously,  head very low between his shoulders, and then tried to smooth around edges of the cut-out  by hand,  with a scouring pad, also from the kitchen,  without taking a little … Continue reading FOUR DYSTOPIAN SHORT STORIES SET IN THE SAME YEAR BUT VERY DIFFERENT REGIONS OF THE WESTERN HEMISPHERE

HELENS of TROY: a Short Story/ an Attack on Nationalist Sports and Athletes/ a Confession

Berlin’s normally rainy early summer has produced a drought, blowing a gritty breeze that powders the sweat before it beads. It vexes the eye with particles sluiced in camel-colored veils trailing from building sites where the progress is slow on a Mediterranean level. I sat down to a plate of very good falafel and watched a sirocco rise up like a Jinn from a dumpster under a scaffold up the street and it swept over me before I could leg it indoors. Minus the eye-irritants the breeze is quite pleasant in the evening. It’s a very light late-suppertime and the EM, or europäischer Meisterschaft, has … Continue reading HELENS of TROY: a Short Story/ an Attack on Nationalist Sports and Athletes/ a Confession

FIRE PAPER GUNS THE INTERNET and ALL WHO FOLLOWED AFTER: an excerpt (and downloadable pdf)

The following is a Joycean, 25-page-long, short story written in joy, rage, regret, nostalgia. A short story in Novel drag. A cry for hurt, written in 2015. It could not have been written by any writer, of the current era, who writes for money.  It was written (in every sense of the word) Free. Only a deeply word-mad lunatic could get this. Challenge…?  . CHAPTER ONE: Reap the World Wind   The splendors of existence are so near. Smell them, taste them, they are yours, right there, in thick liquids or crunchy solids or blown twinkling on your face in … Continue reading FIRE PAPER GUNS THE INTERNET and ALL WHO FOLLOWED AFTER: an excerpt (and downloadable pdf)

ELEGY FOR A ROMANCE, FOR A SELF

I posted this autobiographical seance a little while ago, but it appeared near the end of a fairly long post and few, I suspect, had the intestinal fortitude, having gotten that far, perhaps, to read it. I think it’s a worthy read because it anatomizes, in a not thoroughly half-arsed way, a theme we rarely read memoirs, about, these days: how the Culture deliberately betrays most of us.  How the Culture (or Ponzi Scheme chassis it is built on) is designed to betray us with promises only a child could fall for. The kind of  memoirs the Culture likes to … Continue reading ELEGY FOR A ROMANCE, FOR A SELF

THE BIG, HOT, STEAMING, GLORIOUSLY LOW-BUDGET, IGNORANCE MACHINE and PALLIATIVE TREATMENTS THEREOF

1 HAPPY BIDET KV (11/11/ 23) It’s Kurt Vonnegut’s Birthday: he would have been about 400  years old (or maybe that’s the Age of Enlightenment I’m thinking of).  KV’s books come in at #4 in my pantheon of Great Oeuvres but KV,  the man,  is #1 in my pantheon of Great People. Everyone should have a Writer or Artist or Film Director to brag about, because nobody has a country, political party, religion or income bracket they can, in good conscience, be proud of. Didn’t that sentence sound exactly like the kind of sentence that KV would write? See how … Continue reading THE BIG, HOT, STEAMING, GLORIOUSLY LOW-BUDGET, IGNORANCE MACHINE and PALLIATIVE TREATMENTS THEREOF

YEAR IN REVIEW

Dedicated to my friend the late, great Ed Ward, who owes me €20. “Time is the ultimate disguise.” -Christian Sands . It was pointed out to me that the defeated-looking guy who invariably took the table between the ladies’ room and the Picasso poster,  at The Supreme Bean, was Chris Sands, who had once meant so much to me, as the walking embodiment of his records, at least, though to look at him now you’d have to double-check the timelessness of the records. Which I did. The evening of the day I learned just who that local coffee-sucking wreck really … Continue reading YEAR IN REVIEW

THE RAIN FOUNDATION

TRIGGER WARNING: Written in the spring of 1996, this expresses my darkly critical (and culture-shocked), overlapping impressions of both Berlin and Chicago; having just then returned to America, after five straight years in Europe, I was still awash in sensations from the one country and stunned by alarming impressions of the other… Rainy Rainy Witherspoon was trying to get up her nerve. She had to muster the cold courage, or manufacture a little self-righteous indignation, but in any case she had to break things off with TX today, she couldn’t let herself weaken. She had to give TX his walking … Continue reading THE RAIN FOUNDATION

AMINA

written in 1996, my quiet indictment of Mpls . A figure in a hooded lapis running suit rounded the northernmost curve of Lake Pleasant. Veered up the leaf-strewn incline to Pleasant Lake Road and cut across the fresh black of the asphalt. A pantheon of street lights looking more curious than protective craned over the runner as it ran under the unblinking eye of one after another in a long row before taking a sharp right up Plymouth Circle Drive. She jogged the road’s middle as it curved into the heights of Pleasant Hill, canopied by elms as old as … Continue reading AMINA

CALAMUS

1. Existalism “There are three kinds of people,” said Uncle Ham, “and I use the term loosely.” I was on the dock, hands under my head, the sun soaking orange in my eyelids. I was pretending to be asleep. “Stupid,” he said, “Smart,” he cleared his throat, “And Clever. The Clevers are Smart people who sell things to the Stupids.” Uncle Ham was always making lists and saying sayings and some of the sayings are still with me today. “Never save money on toilet paper, rubbers, or chocolate,” was one of them. Or “Rome burned down in a day.” He … Continue reading CALAMUS

THE APPLICANT

“You speak of them as though they had souls,” said the applicant. She wasn’t really an applicant. She had to calibrate her tone just so. Being perceived as even remotely critical could have her on the other side of the moat in less time than it would take for her valise to hit the drawbridge. She gave the Dowaja a philosophical-instruction-requesting look of confused wonder. Amazing tits for a creature that age, really, but it’s always the eyes, she thought, isn’t it? Nothing they can do about those rheumy red time-poisoned eyes. “Don’t they?” asked the Dowaja, stroking one, which … Continue reading THE APPLICANT

NOTES FOR A STORY ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED

I’m going to tell you a lie and you’re going to believe it. You will have no choice. I will tell you the truth, too, but that you’ll doubt. Also inevitable. The lie will be seductive because it is something you already know. I didn’t love her. I got the call on the train, at lunchtime, and believe it or not I was actually watching the news (the Nth iteration of it) on a ceiling-mounted monitor as I answered the phone, swaying with the train. A Hollywood coincidence. The Malaysian with his infuriating grin. I was thinking give me ten … Continue reading NOTES FOR A STORY ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED

I AM PHILLY DAWG

  Before marrying Luddy, way back in what Luddy refers to disparagingly as Bobbi’s “interesting past,” Bobbi had been married, for not quite a year, to a boyish man named Charlton Diggins. This was back in Philly. Bobbi suspected from the beginning that Charlton was a guy of Jewish descent trying to pass himself off as a guy of Italian descent and she’d liked that about him. She’d suspected it was Charlton’s mother who was the X-factor, because Charlton was strangely evasive about both his mother and his mother’s side of the family. He said she was dead and Bobbi … Continue reading I AM PHILLY DAWG

ashlee to ashes

Melissia Kemp the Deadhead was the most relentless liar I have ever known. She’d tell lies even if they didn’t make her look good. She’d  lie about what time it is or what she had for breakfast. She told me her favorite color is chartreuse. When I first met her she told me her name is Kandy with a K.  We were standing in front of Jay’s Longhorn Bar during the band’s break when a Rasta friend happened to be walking by, in the light snow,  accumulating flakes like a delicate folk tradition, and he called her Melissia. Kandy is … Continue reading ashlee to ashes

CLEOCID PANIER

“The average middle class white American citizen is like a fifteen-year-old who keeps rolling his eyes every time crazy Uncle Pete tells  outlandish  stories about the kid’s Dad… until the kid discovers he was born into a Mafia crime family. To the kid’s initially naive way of thinking, every new  crazy story  casts more doubt on the story before it, and all the stories together, until the kid finally understands that the stories aren’t anomalies, they’re a standard feature of the Reality he was born into, the Reality that was kept from him. In the end, it turns out that … Continue reading CLEOCID PANIER

A WEEK OR SO IN THE LIFE

1– JUNELY 49, 17-50-00 Clim Kweeayvas went to jail for saying Muslims are just sexy Jews. The Jews didn’t seem to care much but the Muslims blew their tops. The Muslims took exception to “just”. I can see their collective point but Clim was on a protected encrypted private diary channel when he said it. The protected encrypted private diary channel cost him an arm and a leg and he got in trouble,  for putting a certain thing, at the worst time, in the wrong way, on it,  anyway. So what’s the point?  I said if I were you I’d … Continue reading A WEEK OR SO IN THE LIFE

JESUS ON TOAST vs MARY  IN THE APÉRITIF: WHO, WHY, WHEN, HOW and HOW LONG?

I believe that many Lefty Liberals begin as very kind, sweet-natured and rather pampered/ privileged  people whose innocent temperaments mark them as ideal targets for mass (social) media manipulation… ultimately leading them into a Tribal State of Preposterous, Post-Disney Delusion. In this state, they are a threat to themselves and others. They are channeling tainted signals from Sinister Interests  and unwittingly abetting  rather blatantly fascistic goals,  the kind of goals which wilfully-optimistic  adults are temperamentally ill-equipped to perceive. I thought this today as I watched a video on a leading Lefty Liberal’s FACEBOOT channel. I had started out checking on … Continue reading JESUS ON TOAST vs MARY  IN THE APÉRITIF: WHO, WHY, WHEN, HOW and HOW LONG?

THE STRANGE CASE of the CUDDLIEST REVOLUTIONARY (A TIMELY REPRINT): UPDATED

(first published in May of 2019) This is a follow up to a recent post called Gimlet-Eyed Rune Reading, at the end of which I tacked what should be a revelatory riff about the absurdly transparent implausibility of the “Bay of Pigs” pseudo-invasion of ’63. You are forgiven for not already knowing all the details of that “historical” (dramaturgical) event, but once you know them, I think, you may feel a bit dizzy. The most importantly dizzy-making detail being Fidel Castro himself. I don’t know a single Lefty-type who has not at some point revered Fidel Castro, but, like lots … Continue reading THE STRANGE CASE of the CUDDLIEST REVOLUTIONARY (A TIMELY REPRINT): UPDATED

SARAH and the BODHISATTVAS

I went to school with snarky stoners and rich Foreign students (mostly Iranians) and lots of entitled shits. I always thought of the entitled shits as 99ers, based on my estimate of their average IQ, but I’m sure quite a few of those IQs were closer to 90. They were reliably hilarious, the 99ers, often fun to have around, with something of the simian (as in “W” Bush, I realize, in retrospect) about their faces… those tiny, close-set eyes and taut parenthetical lips…  and a social carelessness that the other kids, the kids from genuinely good homes, who’d been raised … Continue reading SARAH and the BODHISATTVAS

LAKE ZURICH: a short story

  The last photo in the row of photos in cardboard frames on the windowsill was face-down on the sill and he wondered if this meant something or if the wind had done it, despite the fact that the window, for as long as she’d been living here, had never been open. The air was piped-in like music. He checked the seam between the lower half of the window and the track it was in and confirmed his suspicion that it was thickly painted shut, thick as a welding seam, seafoam green like a jail. Through the blinds the janitor, … Continue reading LAKE ZURICH: a short story

THE CRUMBLING JUNTA 2

More crucial info for all those who innocently trusted authority during the pivotal period of 2020-2022. One takeaway (among many others) should be the lesson that one should NEVER unquestioningly trust authority. EVER. “Operation Warp Speed: The US Department of Defense signed the first contract between the US government and Pfizer for the purchase of US$11 billion dollars worth of vaccines. We know our Therapeutic Goods Administration (TGA) did not review stage 2/3 trial data and instead relied on the US FDA, which took Pfizer’s word for how the trials went! Pfizer committed systemic fraud during its trials, which has … Continue reading THE CRUMBLING JUNTA 2

THE CRUMBLING JUNTA and STUFF

prelude There are many ways to suppress information which aren’t as crude as censorship.  For example: when Truthful people gather to light candles to illuminate the darkness and the candles are suddenly hit with klieg lights, the candle light is not only erased but the blinded audience believes the blinding light is a wondrous spectacle of some kind. Not all Light is the same,  or even good. 1 Anyone who has been sticking their fingers in their ears and singing LA LA LA LA will soon be forced to face the Awful Truth: you’ve been conned by the authority figures … Continue reading THE CRUMBLING JUNTA and STUFF

DIAMONDS ARE EASY

1- The people who argue that the galaxy must be teeming with advanced civilizations don’t, I think, probably spend much time contemplating how astronomically unlikely (no pun intended) their own individual existences are. You really shouldn’t, logically speaking, be here. Nor I. Pregnancy and childbirth are fraught with possible dangers;  the sperm cell which unwittingly helped to spark you had to beat millions just like it to fertilize the egg;  it was extreme good luck that not one of your direct ancestors, going back thousands of generations,  before your birth, didn’t simply cease to exist before somehow managing to reproduce. … Continue reading DIAMONDS ARE EASY

COGITO ERGO DICKHEAD (originally published April 18th 2022)

1-the email from karla pepp and how to parse it “The heart of the mechanism of effective writing is the same, in essence, as that of the pithy, lethal, hilariously precise put-down…  as  executed in a heated argument between queens of a ripe old age. There is something “queer” about the intensity of observation required to shape a living description, or craft a lingering metaphor, so vividly apt that it can wound. Experienced Queens “bitch” well because they zero in on the weak spot, which is also where the chink in the armour is, aka Living Flesh exposed aka The … Continue reading COGITO ERGO DICKHEAD (originally published April 18th 2022)

MY BLOOMSDAY

My Bloomsday started on June 15th.  Had a very good, calming, grounding Fuck with Beloved Wife (I write such provocatively  “vulgar” things deliberately, as a child of the ’60s/’70s,  to push back on all the awful Creeping Anti-Het Puritanism and ward off Bluenoses and also because I can, a state of affairs I still can’t quite take for granted) in the late morning on a temperate and overcast day. Whoever first said  “Omne Animal Post Coitum Triste”  was a liar.  Here’s a pic of Beloved Wife in a dramatically-lit setting, early this year: The light fleece of the high clouds … Continue reading MY BLOOMSDAY

WELL, NOW THAT MART IS DEAD: THE COUNTER-COMEDIANS (first draft, chapters one and two)-republished from May of ’22

These are the first couple of chapters from my new novel… started as a little vacation from the massive novel project I’ve been working on for three years (up to c. page 400 of a single-spaced, narrow-margined, 12pt-font  manuscript). I find that the best way to avoid “writer’s block” is to ride two or three horses at a time, so to speak (in case of a stalled pony, the others can drag it behind them for awhile). This is only very, very faintly auto-biographical (the novel’s own protestations notwithstanding). This book will get funnier and funnier as it goes along, … Continue reading WELL, NOW THAT MART IS DEAD: THE COUNTER-COMEDIANS (first draft, chapters one and two)-republished from May of ’22

EVERY WORD A SINGER

  I was cruising along this Sunday  morning (c. 9am, the crack of dawn in Berlin) and the word “hum” popped into my head.  I was listening to the raw demo of a song I wrote a few months ago and the word “hum” was the final puzzle piece of the song. The song, I felt, became perfect when the word “hum” fell into place on it while I was cruising along in the early morning sun. I love the song, I love the song and my demo performance of it (the first take, the best take, it will never … Continue reading EVERY WORD A SINGER

RANTS, QUIBBLES & CRIS-DE-COEUR BUT MOSTLY MUSIC

I MADE THIS as people often preface some post or other, with,  on the dreaded Reddit. I did Reddit for a month as an experiment. I’m still shedding dread.  DREDDIT?  What a perfectly-engineered CONSENSUS/ PROPAGANDA MACHINE (one’s “karma” is the running total of one’s awarded likes from which are subtracted the running total of one’s awarded dislikes, behooving anyone amassing that meaningless LIKES PILE to learn very quickly what the BORGHIVE likes to “hear” and to stick with that shtick: excellent training for anyone planning on fitting into a crypto-Fascist clusterfuck):  Laugh.  But that’s for another post to deal with… … Continue reading RANTS, QUIBBLES & CRIS-DE-COEUR BUT MOSTLY MUSIC

THE SENSITIVE HET MALE MINORITY

I’m doing it again. Running a band.  My songs. Ace players. Beautiful singer of exotic provenance. Copyrightably-identifiable voice she has. Oh but this takes up so much of my time! The Blog cries out to be tended. Everyday I walk by this untended patch and its weeds and pests and I avert my eyes whistling one of the tunes from the band I’m producing with my engineeer. I went and got myself a young engineer.  Well, you have to.  My young engineer saves me time but not enough time to have enough time to tend the little farm of this … Continue reading THE SENSITIVE HET MALE MINORITY

GRAVITY’S RIMBAUD: A LIT CRIT PROSE POME

hit college at just the right time to have all my poetry-reading chums lionize the slave-trading Arthur Rimbaud and pooh pooh my misgivings with metropolitan condescension. At no point did I suggest that they, my chums,  disavow the cocksucking adolescent Nietzsche-lite work of that tragic asshole Arthur, I merely wanted it known that I could not be counted on to cheerlead their faddy obsession. Likewise considering the case of that racist old trash-emitting typist Ray Carver, equally-embraced, by my college buddies, at the time: fine, if that tripe gets you off.  But if I’m going to nibble at and swallow … Continue reading GRAVITY’S RIMBAUD: A LIT CRIT PROSE POME

TWO CHAPTERS FROM SECTION THREE of my SWEEPING NOVEL-IN-PROGRESS KOOTCHIE TOWERS (featuring a cameo appearance by Harold Brodkey)

. TRACK FOUR / SIDE THREE: THE ROAD TO QUASAR I sat up on the back seat of Rodney’s Buick and tried to gather my wits and bearings.  It was very dark and seemed very late and rather cold and I wondered how long I’d been alone in the car and to where the car had been driven.  Jillene’s cake was flat in the box I’d been using as a pillow and I opened the flattened box and scooped some smashed cake out and fed myself with voluptuous intensity, the best cake I had ever tasted. I was so hungry … Continue reading TWO CHAPTERS FROM SECTION THREE of my SWEEPING NOVEL-IN-PROGRESS KOOTCHIE TOWERS (featuring a cameo appearance by Harold Brodkey)

BUK (YUCK!) and BUDDHA BULL or: CLOCK-WATCHING IN A ROOM OF GENTLY-RISING FLOOD WATER

A few weeks ago I picked up Beloved Wife at the main train station. I was early, watched the clock, the minute-hand seemed frozen in the cold. Fifteen minutes took an hour.  The clock of the human face behaves in quite the opposite fashion; always in such a rush. While waiting for Beloved Wife’s train to roll in (it was 11:12 pm and very cold) a dissolute-looking, fat-lipped blonde in a frazzled (but real) fur coat approached me and gestured, by pointing at it,  that I should lift one of my headphone cups and engage with her. She could have … Continue reading BUK (YUCK!) and BUDDHA BULL or: CLOCK-WATCHING IN A ROOM OF GENTLY-RISING FLOOD WATER

TACTICAL PESSIMISM: TERMS for a POSSIBLE DISCUSSION

(originally published on February 24th–2021) new preface (March 1, 2023) Sometimes it seems as if I’m trapped in a Surreal Horror film in which Powerful Psychopaths are carelessly (at best) poisoning (in some cases killing) some of my oldest friends and only I, and a few others, are aware of this blatantly obvious fact. This, below,  came as quite a shock,  today, as I read this, as the person mentioned was my best friend for much of the 1980s: . “On April 16th, my spouse, L—–, was at the start line of a 5k run. He was skiing in Banff, … Continue reading TACTICAL PESSIMISM: TERMS for a POSSIBLE DISCUSSION

TERPSICHORE, YOU B*TCH!

1 I met a wiry Belgian musician (late ’30s)  in a recording studio 5 or 6 years ago and, as a result, I’m on his mailing list. This is an excerpt from what his business (?) sent me today: “With French composer Sylvain Chauveau, we‘re now launching an impossible label : Zero Carbon Records. “The beauty of the Zero Carbon for a label founder is that it makes recording and record manufacturing impossible. “Fortunately, our born-failure label already found a reconversion in sport and scout guitars. “We will now deliver you those impossible to record new music as 100% acustic … Continue reading TERPSICHORE, YOU B*TCH!

INTRODUCING THE KEVORKO 3000

    THE WORLD OF TOMORROW will belong to level-headed people who can separate facts from fantasy and who mature at a relatively young age, enabling them NOT to fall for shallow, ugly, decadently wasteful and narcissistic kitsch like “Burning Man,” which is a Last Gasp of the self-deluded Vampire Consumerism that inspired it. What is this BURNING MAN  ritual, in the end, but a messy montage of meaningless visuals decorating a dark hunger for New Sensations and Special Powers and Elite Significance? One of the first symptoms of Fascist Contagion is one of Scale: inhuman, post-industrial, resource-commandeering scale. Q: … Continue reading INTRODUCING THE KEVORKO 3000

PHILOSOPHOSOPHY

    So-called “Philosophy”  (the loving of wisdom, literally translated) is more accurately described as “PHILOSOPHOSOPHY”… the love of, or reverence for,  Sophisticated Sophists. A patriarchal cult of personality in which the latest leading figures borrow authority by citing the leading figures preceding them. There’s not a (useful) notion,  or suggested practise, in the entire canon that hasn’t already been come up with by  reasonably-intelligent 50-year-olds with plenty of Life Experience. Where material in the canon diverges from that common sense standard, it is merely trivially arcane, absurd or terribly dangerous (cf Heidegger or Fukuyama). Questing young men read volumes … Continue reading PHILOSOPHOSOPHY

LOGICAL INTELLIGENCE THREATENS THE CRYSTAL of OBEDIENCE (BELATEDLY) AGAIN

Possible Headline: “A FLAGSHIP ANTI-CRACKER TRANSCENDS IDEOLOGICAL CONFORMITY and CEASES BEING A USEFUL IDIOT… DISCOVERING IN THE PROCESS THAT SOME  UR-CRACKERS WERE TEMPORARILY (for 2 years?)  MORE RATIONAL THAN HE WAS IN THE FACE OF AUTHORITARIAN OVERREACH: WHOA. THE OBEDIENCE CRYSTAL:  IS IT CRACKING? THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS AN INTELLIGENT MOB, WHATEVER A MOB’S  GROUP-SYMBOLS/ LIFESTYLES MAY BE. EVEN IF YOUR CO-MOB ENJOYS THE MUSIC OF TOM WAITS, YOUR FANCY MOB BECAME A TOOL OF CLEVER FASCIST MEGA-CORPORATIONS.” End headline. (Please ignore the sesquipedalian prattle of the Fabian host, below, and focus on Robbins’ testimony) . . .. … Continue reading LOGICAL INTELLIGENCE THREATENS THE CRYSTAL of OBEDIENCE (BELATEDLY) AGAIN

ANOTHER DELIGHTFUL CHAPTER from my NOVEL IN PROGRESS “KOOTCHIE TOWERS” (an experience in layered, sometimes dense, sometimes secretive, clarity)

    CHAPTER SIX: MYRVA & BENJI The year is 1974 and our skittish hero, progressive college prof Benji Schamansky, bestselling author of “The Physics of Lit,” isn’t quite sure if he’s been dumped, by his Lover/ Obsession Prentis Bel, as he drives Prentis’ “old school friend,” Myrva, home from an ambiguous fondue dinner,  at Prentis’ pad, in his customized VW van…  Myrva produced an unopened bottle of Kahlùa from her capacious purse and pressed the bottle’s cool glass side to Benji’s cheek as the road hummed and swerved under them and Myrva said, “Let’s play my favorite drinking game. … Continue reading ANOTHER DELIGHTFUL CHAPTER from my NOVEL IN PROGRESS “KOOTCHIE TOWERS” (an experience in layered, sometimes dense, sometimes secretive, clarity)

(Even-Handedly Smarty-Thinky Stuff about) KANYE’S NIGHTMARE

  To be frank: how many “average” Jews could the West Formerly Known as Kanye actually know? The Jews that Kanye generally knows have a contractual relationship with him, or they know him via Jews who do, and the power dynamic, in most of these relationships, confound Kanye in a way that has confounded many Pop/ Rock/ R&B Stars before him.  Prince complained about these things and so did Michael Jackson. Talented musicians are rarely gifted negotiators. As I’ve said elsewhere: if you can’t read Postmodern Literature, you can’t read a contract. To be under contract is not the same … Continue reading (Even-Handedly Smarty-Thinky Stuff about) KANYE’S NIGHTMARE

THE FIRST FASTGIVING

*Of course it was Berkeley where it started and of course it was a college prof and his family of gestures. *The acoustic properties of transmitted legend has already blurred the edges on the actual  facts, somewhat,  so what we think we know has gathered the fuzz of embellishment. You don’t know the word “embellishment”?  Sorry, I’ll tone it down.  We don’t know the prof’s name but we think we know he was a sociologist.  It’s the kind of thing a sociologist would do. I sometimes ask myself if even a Writer would have thought up something as self-abneg… you … Continue reading THE FIRST FASTGIVING

WIFENESS: GONADAL EXEGESES IN THREE or FOUR PARTS/ Part Three: THE MYSTICAL CITADEL of UXOR

Chris Frantz, founding drummer of the defunct Talking Heads, is known for his uxoriousness. “Uxoriousness” is defined as “Overt devotion or submissiveness to one’s wife”. I’m “uxorious” to the extent of my devotion to my Wife, though I wouldn’t describe myself as “submissive” to anyone. Who knows if Chris Frantz is submissive to his wife, Tina Weymouth (former bassist of the defunct Talking Heads), but I do know that his uxoriousness is of a complicated kind, and also that it’s making a kind of charmingly gallant ass of him. “Without Tina Weymouth, Talking Heads would have been just another band,” … Continue reading WIFENESS: GONADAL EXEGESES IN THREE or FOUR PARTS/ Part Three: THE MYSTICAL CITADEL of UXOR

KOOTCHIE TOWERS EXCERPT #1 (first three chapters)

TRACK ONE/ SIDE ONE: PRENTIS & BENJI   Cowper Lundgren slipped into Benjamin Schamansky’s office with loafered stealth. Such loafered stealth that he was able to stand and watch Schamansky enjoying a smutty undergraduate humor magazine for a full minute before Schamansky noticed he wasn’t alone. Looking up and to his left suddenly Schamansky jumped out of his skin, catapulting the magazine against the acoustical foam in the ceiling, where it left a little dent. Lundgren’s hands were clasped behind his very straight back and the signature wave in his full head of hair gleamed white like his smile as … Continue reading KOOTCHIE TOWERS EXCERPT #1 (first three chapters)

KOOTCHIE TOWERS EXCERPT #4

Let’s take a stylistic trip across Literary History, back to when Novels were Novels, Writers were Writers, and Sex was Pretty Fucking Good. The writing in/of these chapters was so fluid, round, nutritive and sweet that I’m posting this only minutes after the last round of tweakings. The year is 1974 and Kyndall, whose man Skip is in the process of being stolen by usurper Prentis Bel, is having a weird day… – KOOTCHIE TOWERS excerpt     TRACK TWO/SIDE TWO: KYNDALL   Kyndall was sitting in bed, topless, arm underscoring her welty tits and the vertical scar between them, … Continue reading KOOTCHIE TOWERS EXCERPT #4

COME PANOPLY WITH ME or SPYING on EXES

1 We live in the most murderously colonialist and Totalitarian Empire in the history of the world and all anyone can talk about are their feelings. 2 OCTOBER 3rd (German unification Day)  2022, near the Zoo Station,  at c. 13:30, a short fat woman,  with multi-colored (pied) hair, saved my life as I was crossing the street. I was wearing headphones, listening loudly to Elvis Costello’s A BOY CALLED IF, not looking, not seeing a cop car speeding toward, and through, the red light the green side of which was cajoling me to cross blithely. Had the little fat woman … Continue reading COME PANOPLY WITH ME or SPYING on EXES

GYPSIES

written in 2010 eering into the open before his sunbrella went up was like having a frying pan in full sizzle put flat on his cheek. The bulging curve of the station wall had a sharp black collar of shade around it in which sat the gypsy with her accordion, playing the dolorous tango they all played within a wild range of capabilities, from grating to futile mastery. She gave him a frank look as he veered out into the unfiltered blast because she blocked the very narrow path the shadow protected, sitting cross-legged on a collapsible chair, shoe tip … Continue reading GYPSIES

WIFENESS: GONADAL EXEGESES IN THREE or FOUR PARTS/ Part Two: HERE’S LOOKING AT YOU: AN EXISTENTIALLY BIOLOGICAL CRITIQUE of LARS VON TRIER’S NYMPHOMANIAC VOL l and VOL ll and ITS MAKING

“To look is to sometimes also forget that one is seen.”  — Pastor Prime PART TWO:  HERE’S LOOKING AT YOU: AN EXISTENTIALLY BIOLOGICAL CRITIQUE of LARS VON TRIER’S NYMPHOMANIAC VOL l and VOL ll and ITS MAKING (part one is HERE) Danish film director Lars Von Trier was fit and okay-looking in the 1980s and 1990s. Von Trier’s appearance has degenerated profoundly as he has aged.  This is standard for humans, though the degree of degeneration varies wildly depending on a cluster of factors. Accepted standards in Art Criticism tend to cause critics to shy away from plugging biographically body-based … Continue reading WIFENESS: GONADAL EXEGESES IN THREE or FOUR PARTS/ Part Two: HERE’S LOOKING AT YOU: AN EXISTENTIALLY BIOLOGICAL CRITIQUE of LARS VON TRIER’S NYMPHOMANIAC VOL l and VOL ll and ITS MAKING

WIFENESS: GONADAL EXEGESES IN THREE or FOUR PARTS/ Part One: Wives of the Wifeless Future

PART ONE:  WIVES of the WIFELESS FUTURE/ BLADE RUNNER 2049: an ANALYSIS “David Hume, the greatest skeptic of them all, once remarked that after a gathering of skeptics met to proclaim the veracity of skepticism as a philosophy, all of the members of the gathering nonetheless left by the door rather than the window. I see Hume’s point.” –Philip K. Dick, How to Build a Universe That Doesn’t Fall Apart Two Days Later . . Phil called me not too long after the wedding to ask for my help again. “You need to fix her.” “Fix who, Phil?” “My wife, … Continue reading WIFENESS: GONADAL EXEGESES IN THREE or FOUR PARTS/ Part One: Wives of the Wifeless Future

4STORIES

We do not die but we forget and forgetting is like unto death, a death of tired associations and attachments, connections so weary they attenuate rather than snap, the rearranging of rearrangement that can only end in the erasure of particulate matter; not a break but an evanescence, a reduction of material memory to its finest single grain, which is not an atom but what this atom meant to itself and other atoms as it forgot itself into The Future. —Anonymous KIA of seeing Jeff with his new girl reminded me of being extremely young, when awkward occasions had gifted … Continue reading 4STORIES

3COUPLES

THE DAINTY HAMMERS Petra Kronos of The Dainty Hammers stopped mid-block, near Rosenthalerplatz, across the street (on a diagonal) from Mein Haus Am See to enjoy the sudden sun. The sudden sun soaked slowly through her old silk blouse like a spreading stain or wound of light. Eyes closed Petra tilted her face to mirror the distant Northern sun. In the North the sun is self-evidently a star. Petra always thought my mother laid this out on the bed to wear it the morning she died before putting on the blouse with a melancholy sense of ceremony. Her adoptive mother. … Continue reading 3COUPLES

PARAPOLITICONS: ADVANCED READINGS for the CLUED-UP, FED UP, EFFED UP and RELATIVELY UNCORRUPT

1(t)READING BETWEEN THE LINES IN THE BOOK BIZ . David Marchese: Let me ask about something that’s not in The Silence, at least not anymore. In the first galley copy I read, there’s a scene in which a character is reciting disastrous events and mentions Covid-19. Then I was told there were changes to the book and was sent a second galley. Covid-19 was gone. Why did you take it out? . Don DeLillo: I didn’t put Covid-19 in there. Somebody else had. Somebody else could have decided that it made it more contemporary. But I said, “There’s no reason … Continue reading PARAPOLITICONS: ADVANCED READINGS for the CLUED-UP, FED UP, EFFED UP and RELATIVELY UNCORRUPT

WE ARE FUCKSTUFF MADE OF STARJUNK

Please picture an auditorium best suited to a motivational speaker’s emotions-manipulating presentation. You are seated in this auditorium. The lighting is calming, muted. The Consort of Musicke’s 2007 issue of John Dowland’s collected works plays softly, nearly subliminally, from invisible speakers above you. The stage curtains are drawn and dark. People are filling the auditorium. The ambient chit chat, coughing, throat-clearings and occasional barks, or tinkles, of laughter,  are gradually rising in density and volume. You have arrived early to take your excellent seats. Your tickets for the evening cost you no money: you solved riddles, on a website,  for … Continue reading WE ARE FUCKSTUFF MADE OF STARJUNK

THE MORAL of the STORY: A DUET (A REVIEW of a STORY and an ERA)

  THE MORAL of the STORY: A DUET (A REVIEW of a STORY and an ERA) A few weeks ago, a short story, by Ian McEwan, appeared in the New Yorker. The short story is an excerpt from a forthcoming novel. The short story concerns a boy, Roland, in an English boarding school during the Cuban Missile Crisis. Roland’s “now,” in the short story, is him at the age of 14,  as the Cuban Missile Crisis is being followed, by the papers, and read about, with exhiliration shading into terror,  by the boys in the boarding school. The Cuban Missile … Continue reading THE MORAL of the STORY: A DUET (A REVIEW of a STORY and an ERA)

DEATHCAMP MEETCUTE (a very short story)

Pinnol, said Birte. Pinnol. I want you to really think about this question before you answer it. Will you? Will you think about this question really very seriously before you answer it? Pinnol smiled and Birte took a breath. Do you remember the first time you came to Deathcamp? What were your impressions? I remember the way I used to think before I came to Deathcamp. Can you remember the way you used to think before you came to Deathcamp? How childishly you probably thought? I thought very much like a child. I’m the first to admit. After all, I … Continue reading DEATHCAMP MEETCUTE (a very short story)

DON’T TELL CHLOE (a short story)

Henry was already famous for having used a logical argument to get out of church every Sunday and now look at him,  recumbent in the field beside his grandmother’s house at all hours and on this particular evening so late that most traffic of the day, no longer rattling untouched china nor rushing in either direction on 115th street, was by then elsewhere, at rest, while Henry fretted. Henry with a book in the tall wild grass of the ownerless field with a flashlight. “Our Father,” said the lady, his grandmother, over dinner. Of all the people who once sat … Continue reading DON’T TELL CHLOE (a short story)

A BRIEF LITERARY CONVERSATION WITH TWO NOW-DEAD FRIENDS, EDMOND and EDMUND

July 29, 2015 The new living embodiment of the relentless anti-intellectual debasement of the literary Arts has stolen the crown from talentless word-processing juggernaut Haruki Murakami: Karl Ove Knausgaard, claim your crown and sceptre! I haven’t read duller, more vacuous, more will-sapping prose in a very, very long time…!  Comments Share Edmond Caldwell I keep putting off my engagement with that tome . . . now I know the reason!   Steven Seven Augustine Oh, but it’s a MUST, Comrade. A must. Laugh.   Steven Seven Augustine (makes Paul Auster look like Milan Kundera in comparison)   Ed Ward I … Continue reading A BRIEF LITERARY CONVERSATION WITH TWO NOW-DEAD FRIENDS, EDMOND and EDMUND

THE FOG OF WAR and Other Aphrodisiacs

EVER HAVE THE PLEASURE OF YELLING AT A SMALL CROWD (c. 30 people) of FASCISTS? I have. A few days ago. Delicious. Wife and I were on a bus. A family of five, with a baby carriage (they looked Turkish or Romanian) got on the bus. The bus driver said, over the PA, that the family should please put their masks on. On the U-Bahn and S-Bahn, it’s easier to get away with wearing no mask, though a substantial fine is threatened if an authority catches you. On the bus, it’s much harder to get away with it: some bus … Continue reading THE FOG OF WAR and Other Aphrodisiacs

EFFDAT: A REPRINT

[Ed.’s note: This is just a quickie as I prepare a more voluminous post] It was the summer of ’14 and I was in a dark, dark place when I first posted about this. I wanted to punch the virtual blob of “public opinion,” which hadn’t had decent taste, admittedly, in decades (should I blame Madonna or Torture Porn?)… but this was a devastatingly low new low:  upon what planet of tasteless, hype-governed nitwits had I been shipwrecked? All I wanted to do was go home, to the Cultural ’70s, wherewhen Experimental Lit was reviewed in the glossies and John … Continue reading EFFDAT: A REPRINT

LIFE IN PARLOUS WARTIME (WITH BREAKS FOR MUSIC)

  —LIFE IN WARTIME   Saturday I went through the second phase of auditioning a new guitarist (phase one was exchanging links to material): meeting him in person at my favorite meet-a-new-musician café. I’ve been using this café for that function for ten years, at least. It’s big, never crowded during the day, with very high ceilings and weird Art on the walls and the ambient music is low key enough to chat over. Anyway, the guy showed up right on time, looking like he’ll look great on stage (I’m six feet tall and he’s maybe six feet four, with … Continue reading LIFE IN PARLOUS WARTIME (WITH BREAKS FOR MUSIC)

RECORD-BREAKING BROKEN RECORDS & other POSTCARDS, FLYERS, PLACARDS, BUMPER STICKERS, FORTUNE COOKIES & MESSAGES IN A BOTTLE from the SUPPURATING RIM of my PUCKERING SOUL-HOLE

    1— 2—   3— 4— 5— 6— 7— 8— 9— 9A—   9B— 10—   11— 12— 13— 14— 15— 16— Continue reading RECORD-BREAKING BROKEN RECORDS & other POSTCARDS, FLYERS, PLACARDS, BUMPER STICKERS, FORTUNE COOKIES & MESSAGES IN A BOTTLE from the SUPPURATING RIM of my PUCKERING SOUL-HOLE

ABORTION: UP THE SLIPPERY SLOPE

1ABORTION: THE IDEOLOGY At 20 weeks the fetus is about the size of a hamster, though it’s not as developed as a hamster. At 26 weeks the fetus is teetering on the edge of being a Proto Human. Facts, common sense and nuanced thinking indicates to me that aborting an unplanned/ unwanted fetus, soon after one has discovered that one has missed one’s period (this would be the speck-to-tadpole stage) is a useful or necessary medical procedure with no moral or ethical ramifications. Aborting the “hamster” at 20 weeks would be sad or even tragic. Aborting any not-malformed, non-life-threatening fetus … Continue reading ABORTION: UP THE SLIPPERY SLOPE

EXCERPTS FROM “THE VELVETEEN GULAG” [a memoir]: CHAPTER 13:THE GIRL ON THE MEXICAN ASHTRAY

Sometime in early 1972, after two years of anxious planning, my father moved to Vegas from Chicago, inspired by the assassination of Fred Hampton, who was offed by “The Pigs” during the Xmas season of ’69. My father saw the writing on the wall but he couldn’t quite read between its lines: he assumed Fred was executed for working for Black Power. Father fled to Vegas and he took his much-younger wife and his two sons (well, one definite son and one possible artifact of my mother’s counter-infidelity… my little brother always looked and acted uncannily like a Mexican half-brother, … Continue reading EXCERPTS FROM “THE VELVETEEN GULAG” [a memoir]: CHAPTER 13:THE GIRL ON THE MEXICAN ASHTRAY

THE BLOOMSDAY ANTI-BLUENOSE FUSILLADE

[well i’m not scatologically inclined like Jimmy but i am a Wifemadfucker, so, cheers, raise a glass of something, wink at the proliferating puritans, scoff at the joyblanking puritanifications, drink up and grab lovingly your Wife or if it’s your husband then Wife him madly, gladly, with tender jazz-rhythm ballads of thrust, pump, pamper and Happy Bloomsday to the Bloomsdei…!] . . To NORA  Dublin 16 December 1909 My sweet darling girl At last you write to me! You must have given that naughty little cunt of yours a most ferocious frigging to write me such a disjointed letter. As … Continue reading THE BLOOMSDAY ANTI-BLUENOSE FUSILLADE

a million new seeds of grief

1 everything: a distraction “I really don’t care about the Depp/Heard case. I want to see the Epstein/ Maxwell client list released.” I think the Depp/Heard trial and verdict were severe blows to the “Men Are Scum” project that gained maximum momentum with “MeToo” and went beyond fairness, logic and evidence to paint all men as Perps (guilty until proven innocent) and all women as saints and victims. If it was a distraction, I think it was an opportunistic one. I don’t think it was planned by TFIC*, though Big Media has tried to spin it in the Master Narrative’s … Continue reading a million new seeds of grief

SALTER’S LUCK (a short story)

In every way my second (and last) marriage is wonderful, my first marriage was a nightmare. A fruitful situation rich in fiction-producing toxins. This story and another  (and this chapter in my memoir) are the stories I got out of that dark, dark period. . . Salter woke up to Lola shouting there was oil fucking paint on her Jil fucking Sander. He couldn’t at first tell if he was having a heart attack or caught in an earthquake or both but Lola was so up in his face she appeared to have one long ice-blue eye in the middle … Continue reading SALTER’S LUCK (a short story)

TEAR US APART (a short story from 2002)

When Rafaella and I got off the plane, we were giggling, race-walking out of the fuselage, not even bothering to exchange phony goodbyes with the stewardesses but shoving so rudely through people in our mad dash for the ridiculous velvet ropes (was flying a magic act? a disco?) we could see at the end of the wobbly square tunnel. We dashed down the concourse like children and people glared at our leather coats flapping. I hopped onto a baggage cart and Rafi grabbed the handlebar and pushed it full speed and swervvy making folks scatter and I surfed it to … Continue reading TEAR US APART (a short story from 2002)

MENTAL IMAGE COMICS

(17 BIG PAGES of FULL COLOR ACTION) (enviously  endorsed by the legendary cartoonist _______   ______’s  Childhood Acquaintance )   *******pg 1 NOBLE PROGRESSIVE INFALLIBLE CITIZEN #1 sez  “Your body your choice …!” NOBLE PROGESSIVE INFALLIBLE CITIZEN #2 sez  “Except when the Big Bosses say nope!” NOBLE PROGRESSIVE INFALLIBLE CITIZEN#1 sez  “That goes without saying!” NOBLE PROGESSIVE INFALLIBLE CITIZEN #2 sez  (singing a Patti Smith song while NOBLE PROGESSIVE INFALLIBLE CITIZEN #1 lights a candle blessed by Angelina Jolie and/or the Dalai Lama) ******** pg 2 BLIP sez  “Every animal has a survival instinct, but what’s happening, today,  in masses of … Continue reading MENTAL IMAGE COMICS

OEDIPUSES, OPHELIAS and OPPs in the AGE of OBJECT ORIENTED ONTOLOGY (notes, shorts, proclamations)

1 Once I was arguing with a crypto-conservative (who thinks of himself as a Radical Commie, despite the fact that most of his old friends and close family are Wealthy) and he riposted a statement of mine with the classic evasion, “It’s more complicated than that.” As I always do, I responded to that with: “I have time. I’m a quick learner. Explain the complexities.” Ah, but he couldn’t. I have dedicated my social life to stamping out that particular rhetorical flourish (by putting a prohibitive price on it). 2 “Commenting, or not commenting, on an injustice or an atrocity, … Continue reading OEDIPUSES, OPHELIAS and OPPs in the AGE of OBJECT ORIENTED ONTOLOGY (notes, shorts, proclamations)

STELLA (a short story)

Dorman dropped me off on a bench in Funes Park, just exactly as he’d done the day before, so I could sun myself for three hours until the end of his shift. It was Thursday. Dorman said, “Now don’t you go anywhere until I get back, you impetuous kid,” and patted me on the head. He crushed the sharp grass and a beer can with his boots as he climbed the slope to the sidewalk that ringed the park like a crust. “What am I looking at?” I called over my shoulder. I could feel him standing there with his … Continue reading STELLA (a short story)

THIS IS WHY OUR REVOLUTION CAN’T HAVE NICE THINGS

So, as some of you know, luminary of the Skeptical Fringe, CJ Hopkins, just came out with a book of essays… and had it blurbed by (among others) the blatant liar/ huckster/ counter-resistance shill Catherine Austin Fitts, who sells the most disturbingly ridiculous nonsense, like balls of fresh catshit in a box of very old Milk Duds. One of her shticks: the US, you see, uses reverse-engineered tech from UFOS and also… uh… the US, okay, the US secretly purchased The Moon from Aliens. Yep. What did the US pay for that purchase with, a Dilithium Crystal credit card? Better … Continue reading THIS IS WHY OUR REVOLUTION CAN’T HAVE NICE THINGS

A FEW MORE SPURTS of LOGIC’S HOLY WATER (to Exorcise your Social Media)

1ON THE RIM of a BOG-STANDARD GALAXY It has come to my attention that there are people out there who accept (even believe in) the concept of a Bearded, Vaguely-Levantine, Anus-Free Sky Giant… …who sent His only Son (who was simultaneously He, Himself, btw) to be nailed to a cross-beam and torture-murdered in a loincloth as a representative of a negligible Bronze-Age tribe on a tiny speck of a planet in an unremarkable Solar System on the rim of a bog-standard Galaxy… in a deal to “cleanse” the Tribe (and its general Species) of its Design Flaws (called “sins“)… though … Continue reading A FEW MORE SPURTS of LOGIC’S HOLY WATER (to Exorcise your Social Media)

EXCERPTS FROM “THE VELVETEEN GULAG” [a memoir]: CHAPTER 8: MR JIMMY

    Aunt G and her husband G ran a prosperous Funeral Home in a section of Philadelphia called Germantown. Aunt G was my great-aunt, my grandmother’s sister. She and G were in their seventies.  I moved in with them, taking the top floor of one of their three three-storey houses. I brought an antique trunk full of books and a duffel bag with clothes in it. From the train station to the Funeral Home was a seven dollar cab ride that Aunt G had paid for in advance. The ground floor of the middle house in the complex housed … Continue reading EXCERPTS FROM “THE VELVETEEN GULAG” [a memoir]: CHAPTER 8: MR JIMMY

SYLVIE

Chapter One: More than Words Sylvie’s father was a writer whose time had come and gone, but he was fine with that. He’d invested the windfall with prescience. He had a house in a decent neighborhood in a city that scored with consistent impressiveness on all the quality-of-life surveys worth checking, along with some property a two hours’ drive up north. The property up north featured a rustic cabin he was going to write his comeback in, a cabin near a well he wasn’t allowed to drink out of, overlooked by the aerie of an endangered species of hawk he … Continue reading SYLVIE

MY DYLAN (WHO ISN’T YOUR DYLAN) WAS NOT A MEDIOCRITARIAN

C. 2015 an English songwriting comrade and I held an informal contest (no prizes involved) re: who could write the best “Dylan” song in a day. I won: comrade’s mistake: he attempted “Desire” era Dylan to pastiche; you need Scarlet Rivera to pull that off. Also, the comrade was a Mediocritarian…  but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. . This story involves Art, not cash. No cash was exchanged across the crux of this story. If cash is what floats your boat, please click the link linking to the podcast in which I describe blowing a whale at Sea Village … Continue reading MY DYLAN (WHO ISN’T YOUR DYLAN) WAS NOT A MEDIOCRITARIAN

VIRTUAL CONVERSATIONS WITH THE WRITER EDMOND CALDWELL (NOW A GHOST)

CONVERSATIONS WITH A FELLOW WRITER I ONLY REALIZED WAS IRREPLACABLE AS A FRIEND THE DAY AFTER HE DIED (when my need to joke with him about the situation was extremely frustrated), INCLUDING THOUGHTS ON HIS UNDERGROUND MONUMENT OF A NOVEL [caveat: these exchanges bounced between email, Facebook messenger and the surface level of Facebook: only the Facebook messenger version of these particular exchanges remain] [more conversations with Edmond, and others, from the same era, here] . Edmond sent December 11, 2011 How come FB can’t design a conversation thread in which one can respond to separate comments? 1) Yes, the … Continue reading VIRTUAL CONVERSATIONS WITH THE WRITER EDMOND CALDWELL (NOW A GHOST)

3PSTMDRN MURDER MYSTERY NOVELLAS: AN EXCERPT from NOVELLA ONE

(FULL DOWNLOAD HERE) 23. Lola wasn’t the first woman I was ever in love with, of course. She wasn’t even the first German. Sunshine von Schönhauser was my first German and my first and last Hippy, too. A few years back. First trip to Europe. A few weeks before meeting my destiny in London I met Sunshine in Berlin. My God: even the name. Sunshine? But I really liked her. I thought I loved her. I was going through a phase and my first trip to Europe was a conservative gesture toward a journey of self-discovery, the kind of thing … Continue reading 3PSTMDRN MURDER MYSTERY NOVELLAS: AN EXCERPT from NOVELLA ONE

the time he made it just in time but didn’t: a parable

Three or four years ago (when I was still recording in that last recording studio),  he said, I was walking great distances every day to burn off the chocolate sticks I was eating during every session in the studio. The chocolate sticks were the only things I could eat that wouldn’t leave me feeling too bloated to sing (well, I guess fruit would have worked but fruit in a recording studio…?). Anyway, this was on a day between sessions,  a “day off,” during winter… a very, very cold (Thunberg-mockingly so)  winter. Foolishly,  as a fool is liable to do things, … Continue reading the time he made it just in time but didn’t: a parable

MUSIC, LIFE, STUFF, THINGS

Turned 63 this week and I didn’t feel a thing. I’ve been thinking of myself as being “63” since shortly after crossing the midpoint of the gleaming bridge (which arcs so high above the pedestrian traffic of the young) called “62,” so I’m slightly surprised that I’m not “64” already, though I’ll be thinking of myself, in that way, in roughly six months. As ever: no concessions to the legend of the Withering Blue Witch of Old Age… (I mean, a lovely Witch did touch my thingy yesterday but she was youngish, loving, sexy and beautiful and though she turned … Continue reading MUSIC, LIFE, STUFF, THINGS

trivial/ not trivial

1trivial/not-trivial Like most people in this Empire, I had to wait until the next day to discover that a Black celebrity male had raped and beheaded a smaller Black celebrity male, onstage, during The Oscars. The instigating incident was a “joke” the smaller Black celebrity male made about the larger Black celebrity male’s wife’s appearance… specifically,  her hair… despite knowing that Black females are, in general,  particularly vulnerable / self-conscious about that specific aspect of their physical presentation, given the culture’s longstanding Standards of Desirability.  The larger Black celebrity male’s response to the joke was described by many as “riveting” … Continue reading trivial/ not trivial

MACRO/MICRO

1MACRO WHAT DO I SMELL? ANOTHER PIG ON THE SPIT ROAST, RIGHT NEXT TO DADDY BUSH’S  FLAMING CARCASS, IN HADES’  ALL STAR BARBECUE ROOM!  But first, a correction, of sorts. Let’s get this straight. “The Gubmint” does not “hate” The Right. TFIC* don’t “hate” Right Wingers at all, though  TFIC’s Big Media appear to demonize The Right during this tumultuous transitional moment. TFIC don’t “hate” Right Wingers, though, of course, many of their pseudo-Lefty, Useful Idiot minion-administrators do, which lends verisimilitude to The Great Pantomime . This minion layer of Useful Idiots is not in the loop. They really believe … Continue reading MACRO/MICRO

polari

I’m one of those implausible Parlor Trick Prodigy characters so popular in the ’80s and ’90s and early 2000s, a narrative trend driven mainly, I guess, by the vastness of Yuppie Self-Regard, which extended to the delusional misapprehension that the children of the very finest Yuppies stood a very good chance of being geniuses, given the proper (expensive) nudge. You know:  Suzuki violin lessons in kindergarten, preceded by speakers hooked up to CD players playing Mozart blasting the (pre)occupied womb. Does having a Chinese nanny the first four years help? My mother never missed a trick. People like her liked … Continue reading polari

ZARAH FRAYN

If you asked Zarah Frayn about the scariest thing that had ever happened to her she could tell you without thinking but wouldn’t. It had happened the month after marrying Blake. She hadn’t thought of it in all these years. As though the divorce had suddenly opened her to thoughts like that again, or to people who would ask that kind of question. It’s true she wouldn’t have thought of it otherwise. Not now. If it was a flirtation it was a funny way to flirt, she thought. Was he trying to scare her? His English was weakly accented, but … Continue reading ZARAH FRAYN

(J)WOKE  J(W)OKES  and THE BEASTS

The doctor  tells his patient “I have good news and bad news.” The patient says, “Tell me the bad news first, doc.  I can take it.” The doctor says “Well, after an exhaustive battery of expensive tests, I’m forced to conclude that I  no longer have the slightest excuse to charge you massive amounts of money for supposedly treating the terminal disease that  I previously jumped to the conclusion you may conceivably have begun to suffer from.  Without an excuse to treat you,  this also means no juicy kickbacks for needlessly exposing  you to incredibly toxic drugs that would  guarantee … Continue reading (J)WOKE  J(W)OKES  and THE BEASTS

CLASSLESS TALES of CLASS and AGE:  FUGUE & GIGUE

There is a holy stupidity to youth, the necessary lack of wisdom,  which makes copious Experience possible.  I’m grateful for the memories of the things I’ve done and seen,  when young,  which I am now far too experienced to do or see again, precisely because I have done and seen them. The knowledge I derived from these metaphorical pratfalls stayed with me. The first hominid to ever not know that it shouldn’t be able to walk upright was probably a teen. **** “Is that a chick or a dude?” was a popular, mildly satirical,  question in 1969.  In the 2020s … Continue reading CLASSLESS TALES of CLASS and AGE:  FUGUE & GIGUE

tophus

Queer Fat Niggers ™ weren’t fat or Queer or Black, they were a duo of Transgender womyn who hailed from the wealthiest hostels of Long Island. Please touch the blue circle firmly with signing thumb to continue. QFN’s hook was butterscotch-plaid bellbottoms and waist-long,  candy-colored wigs. QFN were blitzed on stage by relentless strobe lights: that was their act. Purportedly, no one over 19 could bear to watch it. QFN are recognized as trailblazers in the exaggerated-breast-size  (EBS) movement of topless trans  liberation. This informational monologue is dedicated to Larry. QFN were known for one very catchy and groundbreaking original … Continue reading tophus

NOBODADDY NOETICS in your NOOSPHERE (plus sundry Blasphememes in a randomized hierarchy of possible offence)

1GLARE The male gaze vs the blue-haired gender-studies graduate’s glare: which can take rightful credit for your Existence on Earth? 2PHOTOSHOP Audio Photoshop is what I am most comfortable calling Modern Pop. Narrative  Photoshop is probably the best term for “the news”. What do you call the Photoshop of your Conscience? 3HOLOSISM HOLOSISM: conceptualizing The Whole as being the Universe from side to side, top to bottom, beginning to end, The Whole can therefore be construed as an omniscient Intelligence that “knows” everything by containing everything: to that extent,  predestination describes the condition and path of every constituent element of … Continue reading NOBODADDY NOETICS in your NOOSPHERE (plus sundry Blasphememes in a randomized hierarchy of possible offence)

EXCERPTS FROM “THE VELVETEEN GULAG” [a memoir]: CHAPTER 5: NEVER TRUST A HIPPIE

One day in the year 1969 I heard my Uncle C— say to my mother that “Hippie stands for hypocrite.” This statement made an impression. I was nine or ten when he said it and my understanding at the time was that the Hippies were all about wonderful things like Peace and Love and colorful clothing, so to hear this negative judgement of Hippies from a source as trusted as Uncle C—, who had attended the University of Chicago and was the smartest person I knew: that was intriguing. It opened me at an early age to the notion that … Continue reading EXCERPTS FROM “THE VELVETEEN GULAG” [a memoir]: CHAPTER 5: NEVER TRUST A HIPPIE

STORY WITH CONTEXT

STORY WITH CONTEXT  (written in the Autumn of 2021) 1. No slavery, no rock ‘n roll. How much Good has come from Bad? Lots. 2. HG Wells posited, allegorically, in his novel  The Time Machine, that the future belongs to either Progress or Devolution. Wells did so without realizing (from his naive vantage) that Progress actually becomes Devolution when the technical ability of  Humanity overtakes its Spiritual Evolution. And I don’t mean “spiritual” in terms of any fantastical metaphysical narrative; I mean “spiritual” in the sense of a capacity to love Life/ Earth/ and Humanity itself in an ongoing project … Continue reading STORY WITH CONTEXT