Our major heat wave, a week pushing 100, officially begins at noon. In the meantime, it's a quite pleasant morning. I'm on the deck with the AlphaSmart, on vacation, blessed, somewhat amazed at my good fortune and timing in this life I can't imagine being significantly younger than I am in the decaying, dying planet we've created. I can't imagine being a writer in such a bottom line literary environment, so different from when I began my studies in the sixties, when ideas mattered more than money.
My new project is keeping my mind active. Maybe that's the point ha ha. I am curious, however, if I actually can pull it off -- if I have time and energy to do it. Younger, I know I could do it. Today, slower, less patient, with far less faith in the purpose of my writing, I'm not so sure. I think I largely do this from habit now. It's how I learned to exist in the world.
Of course, I like it when someone remembers my work. This happens now and again. That wonderful actor a few months back, going on and on. Oblivion is not yet complete!
The nice thing about the university gig is that it was the one place I still felt "respected," that is, someone who did work worth doing and worth paying attention to. In the 1980s I felt that here in the community at large but not since then. I got spoiled early on, obviously. But it's important that I had my time in the spotlight, so to speak, so now, older, I don't feel like I've missed anything. I learned how much of it is bullshit -- especially when I became one of the judges who decide who is in the spotlight, who gets the grant. It's all politics, and a lot of crooked politics at that. When I was in the spotlight, I made the mistake of believing it actually had something to do with me and my work. It's far more complicated, far more sinister, than that. Art simply has no important function in our capitalist society -- except at personal levels. At social and political levels, it's all about commodities in a marketplace.
As I like to say, in a sane culture reading THE QUIET AMERICAN would have made the Vietnam war impossible!
But here I am, and my blessings far outweigh my disagreements. It's a gorgeous morning, coming heat wave or not, and the birds are feeding, it is pleasant here on the deck, with iced coffee at hand ... so far, so good, for the last Wednesday in July.
Looking forward to grilling with hard wood, learning new skills, adding to my cooking skills. Bread and biscuits are the mainstays, of course. I tried other things but didn't enjoy the results enough to continue. So I need more activity in this area.
The yard is a mess but hot and dry, at least it's not growing.
I need to spend time with banjo and ukulele today! Really. Maybe even record. And start getting Avalon down.
We need to take a trip to Boise so H can visit a grandson. While in the area, should explore southern Idaho. I know northern Idaho well, Dick Crooks country, but have done little exploring in the south. My old friend Tom just bought a house in Pocatello ... some place to visit after he moves. He loves the area, his home.
Brooding about Dancing ... in a theoretical sense, the landscape of its narrative is based on Brown's extraordinary contention that Freud's reality principle is false: that, in fact, the line between wish and deed does not exist. ! Well, if this were true, that thinking an action is, in fact, doing the action, how would this affect action in a narrative? That's how my characters do time travel so easily: the imagination itself is the landscape of the action. Will it work with a reader? Well, with some, I assume. But it has to work with me first. And that's what I'm working on ha ha.
There is a rather serious and considered theoretical basis for all the apparent craziness in this narrative! Be great if I can actually make it work ha ha.
My new project is keeping my mind active. Maybe that's the point ha ha. I am curious, however, if I actually can pull it off -- if I have time and energy to do it. Younger, I know I could do it. Today, slower, less patient, with far less faith in the purpose of my writing, I'm not so sure. I think I largely do this from habit now. It's how I learned to exist in the world.
Of course, I like it when someone remembers my work. This happens now and again. That wonderful actor a few months back, going on and on. Oblivion is not yet complete!
The nice thing about the university gig is that it was the one place I still felt "respected," that is, someone who did work worth doing and worth paying attention to. In the 1980s I felt that here in the community at large but not since then. I got spoiled early on, obviously. But it's important that I had my time in the spotlight, so to speak, so now, older, I don't feel like I've missed anything. I learned how much of it is bullshit -- especially when I became one of the judges who decide who is in the spotlight, who gets the grant. It's all politics, and a lot of crooked politics at that. When I was in the spotlight, I made the mistake of believing it actually had something to do with me and my work. It's far more complicated, far more sinister, than that. Art simply has no important function in our capitalist society -- except at personal levels. At social and political levels, it's all about commodities in a marketplace.
As I like to say, in a sane culture reading THE QUIET AMERICAN would have made the Vietnam war impossible!
But here I am, and my blessings far outweigh my disagreements. It's a gorgeous morning, coming heat wave or not, and the birds are feeding, it is pleasant here on the deck, with iced coffee at hand ... so far, so good, for the last Wednesday in July.
Looking forward to grilling with hard wood, learning new skills, adding to my cooking skills. Bread and biscuits are the mainstays, of course. I tried other things but didn't enjoy the results enough to continue. So I need more activity in this area.
The yard is a mess but hot and dry, at least it's not growing.
I need to spend time with banjo and ukulele today! Really. Maybe even record. And start getting Avalon down.
We need to take a trip to Boise so H can visit a grandson. While in the area, should explore southern Idaho. I know northern Idaho well, Dick Crooks country, but have done little exploring in the south. My old friend Tom just bought a house in Pocatello ... some place to visit after he moves. He loves the area, his home.
Brooding about Dancing ... in a theoretical sense, the landscape of its narrative is based on Brown's extraordinary contention that Freud's reality principle is false: that, in fact, the line between wish and deed does not exist. ! Well, if this were true, that thinking an action is, in fact, doing the action, how would this affect action in a narrative? That's how my characters do time travel so easily: the imagination itself is the landscape of the action. Will it work with a reader? Well, with some, I assume. But it has to work with me first. And that's what I'm working on ha ha.
There is a rather serious and considered theoretical basis for all the apparent craziness in this narrative! Be great if I can actually make it work ha ha.
