Only time will tell.

I am working on my second novel and because I want it to consume me, I have no energy for blogging at this time. I will resume blogging when novel is finished. thank you.

What I Have Been Reading

1. Recently finished David Mitchell's impressive though not as mind blowing as 'Cloud Atlas' novel, 'The Thousand Autumns Of Jacob De Zoet'.
2. Too many to name books on the Irish Potato Famine
3. Book of Irish Folktales
4. Walt Whitman: miscellaneous selections from Leaves of Grass
5.  John Berger- 'Sense Of Sight'
6.  Willis Thorton- 'History; Fact & Fiction'
7.  Barry Yourgrau- 'Man Jumps Out Of An Airplane'
8.  Diane Ackerman- 'A Natural History of the Senses'
9.  More books on Irish History and Irish Slang
10. Yi-Fu Tuan- 'The Good Life'

Dog Days

                                      

                           Why do some days inevitably feel half-lived? Why do some decisions cause deep regrets? Why don't I have a 'planner' like most respectable adults? Why don't I settle down, get married, have 2.5 kids, get a good job that has benefits like health insurance, buy a big flat screen t.v and just try to be fucking happy? Live closer to my family? Why don't I do sit-ups even though I know my stomach is out of shape from too much pizza and junk food? Why am I still so hung up on creating something beautiful that has meaning and is relevant for human beings besides myself? Why do I live in NYC? Why do I go to the cinema alone sometimes? Why do I care about the anti-eye-candy art of Richard Serra? Why am I frustrated by three well known NYC Art Museums featuring exhibits where 1980's style video games are employed? (I love the 80's too but enough is enough.)
Why do I sigh late at night alone in my room wondering what could have been, should have been? Why must I still be thinking on you? Why did Rilke see that marble torso of Apollo and say to himself, "you must change your life"?

Impressions Of Boston On A Recent Visit

            


                First impressions: Boston is cleaner, more restrained and more tasteful than NYC. Manhattan and the outer boroughs lambast one with a million different advertisements on buildings flashing products like clothes, cars and technology. Not so in Boston. There is a quaintness that I appreciated as I walked along the esplanade next to the Charles River. Even in the middle of Summer the nights are cool. Intrigued by American History as I am, I visited the graves of Paul Revere, Sam Adams and the five victims of the Boston Massacre; an event I took a guided tour for later in the day at the place where it actually happened.
               Walked along the Boston gardens in full sun shine as the Swan boats ferried eager faced kids and their parents thru the park. Every other male wore a Boston Red Sox hat. Boston Harbor was nautically cool and old feeling with areas where rich people ate expensive food outside at table with fancy umbrellas probably owned a sail boat as well. My friend and guide remarked to me, "There's alot of old money in Boston."
Another impression: Boston is a white-bred city. I haven't heard that much of my own language since I was back in Ohio. What else? Several surrounding neighborhoods with tree lined streets, small yards, huge old houses converted into apartments. Three blocks from where I stayed JFK was born on such a quiet residential street. I walked and saw it from the outside. My Irish Grandma would be smiling knowing I visited his house(being the huge Kennedy fan she was when alive). Safe areas from what I could see in my limited time. I didn't see the ghettos or the run down areas. Saw the statues commemorating the Irish Famine and the emigrants who fled to Boston. I toured King's Chapel and sat in weird box pews I had never seen before. A person could get comfortable in this city yet for some I could see how it might not be enough. Enough what? I am not sure. Better ask Ben Franklin. He split to go live in Philadelphia when he was 16.

Summer Without Air-Conditioning

            

                         Right now we have an air-conditioner in our closet collecting dust when the last few nights in my small bedroom have been gruelingly muggy and stifling; when two nights ago I had to use an ice pack from the freezer to sleep with just to have a chance to sleep--which I did by 5am.
Before you think I have come down with a special kind of madness or are the victim of a delusional embolism, or just a glutton for punishment, you should know it is part of my approach to Summer; to want to experience it the way it used to be experienced--which includes uncomfortable moments and annoyingly unrelenting heat waves. My aims are noble and healthy I tell myself but hotdamn last night was a suffering too-long sauna in moist sheets. Granted I had two cheap electric fans whizzing quietly but these seemed only to blow around more hot hair. A joke as it were--on me. For of course people 'experienced' summer without electric fans for thousands of years as well as air-conditioners; (though there are several examples through out history of attempts at cooling housing interiors going back to the ancient Romans.)
                Who cares. Back to the topic at hand. What is the topic? Sweat beads fall onto the keyboard as I type this. How long shall I hold out? In 1965 only 10% of U.S. households had air conditioning. By 2007 the number was up to 86%. (This is one reason jobs have been more plentiful in, and people have moved to, the south for the last few decades in the U.S.) Still, I forge on without Air-Conditioning. What a trooper.
                      They say the crime rate in New York City has gone down drastically from where it was at in the 1970's and 80's and experts have several reasons for this, but I think part of it has to do with people got air-conditioning on a mass scale in a short period of time. Really. Oh, what feverish torments await me tonight? Last night for a snack I had mouthfuls of hot air. Not tasty. Lake Erie is too far away. Even sleeping in the nude doesn't feel good. This is no complaint tangent. These are fevered musings in a small solitary room in the depths of July. An inner voice yells,  'Then go outside!' But I don't really hear it 'cause I instead passed out in a pool of my own sweat and misguided notions of 'experiencing summer'. Cheers.

Song Of The Day

Word Of The Day

crotchet \KROCH-it\, noun:

1. An odd fancy or whimsical notion.
2. A small hook.
3. In British musical nomenclature, a quarter note.
4. A curved surgical instrument with a sharp hook.

"The Wild haired Scientist threw one crotchet after another at me in hopes I could be persuaded to his own personal utopian vision of reincarnation and rebirth. The crazy fucker."