Banksy

This guy did it right. You google him and only find pictures of his art, not him. If you’re a big whale in the arts, covered in barnacles and swimming in a sea of inspiration, the best way to be is leagues down in the dark. With my next book, I don’t think I’ll have an author photo on the back.

I wish, in the family announcement of Uncle Michael’s death, I had mentioned his art. Cuz he wasn’t just a musician. He was a fantastic artist, and I didn’t give him credit for that. I just wasn’t thinking properly. I was so upset and had never been tasked with writing anything like that before.

Last night I dreamed that there were so many beautiful whales in the moonlight diving in the surf. The people watching were awed.

I remember seeing a gazillion copies of Jeffrey Frederick’s Spiders in the Moonlight album in someone’s car trunk when I was a kid. And then yesterday I remembered Uncle Michael sitting by a sunny window with his guitar singing “I Got Stung By a Bee” to Rollin when he was little. The “Eeeeeeeee!” all drawn out like a buzzing bee.

I am 48 pages shy of finishing the sixth edit of the novel. It’s about 330 pages long. It should be getting shorter, but it keeps getting longer. But I still like it.

Miscellaneous Grief

Went to an open mic last night, bitched about my uncle being kinda famous. I read two poems. A guy from WDVR offered to have me come on his radio talk show and talk about my book. I told him when the new one comes out I will. I did manage 4 hours of writing yesterday. My friend video recorded me reading the poems, and maybe I’ll upload them at some point, but neither poems is published yet. And next time I read, I’ll make more of an effort as to my appearance!–I’ll wash my hair! I don’t think I’ll ever be a drunk because I purposefully didn’t finish my drink.

I decided to include these videos in this post because Mom had suggested these songs for Uncle Michael’s memorial, but it ended up being mostly live music with people playing Michael Hurley music or contributing other stuff. Mom recited a lullaby that Nanna used to sing to them, but I don’t think she actually identified it as such.

Trying to Write

I’m 20 to 40 pages shy of finishing the sixth edit of this second novel. I want to make sure the characters are fleshed out. The plot is staying the same. Because it’s somewhat based on a past life. I also want the protagonist to go on a journey and achieve something, no matter how insignificant. There has to be some progress. I definitely spend way too much time cooking and driving around in my car, and not enough time Writing. At this point in my life, if I could go back to a land line, I would do that, too. Cell phones are almost a curse. My uncle had Consumer Cellular, like a flip phone. Texts still came through, but it just looked way less bothersome and addictive than my dumb smart phone. I found one book in his house that we both have in common (besides Angels Carry the Sun– he had that, of course)– It was called There is a River, a biography of Edgar Cayce. I have it one my nightstand, partially-read, perpetually unfinished. Uncle Michael had a lot of partially-read books, too. I listened to a song of his tonight that I don’t remember him playing at gigs. “Grand Canyon Line.” I think I was was seven when Armchair Boogie came out. I love the way Pasta’s voice sounds in the background on “Be Kind to Me.” Everything came together perfectly, in a way that seemed accidental–which made it more perfect! Always loved that song. And I always loved the way some old piano somewhere in Vermont would sound. They were tuned somehow to sound more deep and resonant or something. I loved pushing the bottom pedals. Uncle Michael’s piano STILL sounds that way. Nobody else’s pianos ever sound like that. I don’t get it.

I am going to get this damn book done. I know it’s not going to be like the first book. It’s a whole different animal. And that’s okay. Tomorrow I will be thoroughly dedicated.

Morning

My Dad’s book, Waiting for an Army to Die, is archived at the Library of Congress. I just discovered that the other day. My sister said she already knew. I should visit that library sometime. It’s not so far from home.

Working on the slideshow for my uncle’s memorial. There is a memorial for the public on May 4th at Cherry Sprout Park in Portland. The slideshow is for the indoor family/friends one. A friend of Uncle Michael’s said Cherry Sprout Park is small and will probably be crowded. I can’t wait for family to start arriving. I’m actually pretty homesick.

Been wondering if I should burn all my journals. I haven’t kept a paper journal in years, but I do have over a hundred. I’d have to cull through for any decent literature first and what God-awful mud-slogging that would be! The leeches! The sweat! The poisonous snakes! I know I don’t want to remember it all, but to burn indiscriminately would lead to waste.

Walk in Astoria

Last night I went to a brewery to hear my uncle’s music played. A tribute. I left and went on a walk for most of the first set. Mom said I missed the adorable kids dancing. I guess it’s ok. It would have reminded me too much of myself back in the day. Instead. I walked to the Columbia River, which was very close by. There were mossy pilings and a big boat nicely equipped with nautical things of which I am clueless. Uncle Michael probably has cute little boats embossed on his DNA, but if he needed a model for a a wolf sea vessel, he had it here in Astoria. Next, I turned around, found the steepest street in sight, and walked up it. I called my Dad on the way. We talked about how when Dad would run into Uncle Michael in the park in NYC when they were young, he always reminded him of a lizard, so relaxed, lounging in the sun. We also talked about the state of the country. And Finland and saunas and happiness. Life is fleeting.

Snark

I willfully drove to to the courthouse in Astoria today. After 26 years a bureaucrat, I always feel a sort of kindred connection with those behind the plexiglass. Snark is the name of my deceased uncle’s car. Michael Hurley, if people want to look him up. The car has squishy brakes and loose steering and it stalls sometimes and it’s a gas hog. He could’ve had a sweet purring Prius but he chose a Dodge Snark. I understand.

One More Hipster in Heaven

Michael Hurley, folk legend who once called Vermont home, dies at 83

He was my uncle and now he’s gone. In large part, he provided the soundtrack to my childhood. I am near Portland, Oregon in his house, along with my cousin and my mother. Grief can rock a person to sleep, I suppose.

Nirvana

I feel like I am coming off a crushing politics-marathon that’s been making me bake cornbread and mix up chocolate truffles and binge eat. Fascism makes me binge eat. So I’m finally doing something besides news and postcards and trying to talk to the people over at Fox-FB-land. Now watching a Nirvana documentary and feeling nostalgic about the edge of a mosh pit. When I was a teen I used to make up names for bands just for fun. And one of the names I came up with was Nirvana. I probably came up with it at around the same time that Kurt actually came up with it. Funny. When I finally saw Nirvana at Lehigh University in Bethlehem, I was thirty, and I felt so old! I still remember what I was wearing, at least from the waist up, haha. Black shirt with big blue and purple paisley. Giant silver hoop earrings. I was with my girlfriend and her boyfriend who killed himself within the year. Those were the days.

tHIS iS nOt MY auTHOR pHOTo

The chalk is from school. Let’s draw a new world, not like a Brave New World though, haha. If I die tomorrow, at least I got to write one really good book and one almost-done one, and another halfway-done one.

Angels Carry the Sun, my 1st, was a coming of age story

The second, Don’t Get Burned, is about a failed law student having either a psychotic break or flashbacks to a previous life.

The third, Darling of the Cinema, has our heroine wanting so damn badly to be in a Broadway production of the Rocky Horror Picture Show.

The fourth–nothing done here, but people have sometimes asked for a sequel to #1.