Friday 7/14/23
Finished and filed Beatles feature between much racing around. Will write a feature in the next day or two on the The Great Lost Kinks' Album. This is from the Beatles piece:
On this very same day, the program cut on July 2 was broadcast, a remarkable affair in its own regard, featuring covers of Arthur Alexander’s “Soldier of Love (Lay Down Your Arms),” Elvis's “That’s All Right,” Chuck Berry’s “Carol,” alongside the band’s own “There’s a Place.” The Beatles were fashioning fresh achievements in their artistry as recently made examples of their art entered the world, like they were lapping themselves, but in a winning way.
The group ended up taping eighteen songs—while bantering with each other and host Rodney Burke, of whom they were clearly fond—in under eight hours, producing the session that best shows what the Beatles loved, musically-speaking, and why the Beatles’ own music was so easy to love.
People talk about Ringo Starr’s playing on “Rain” as proof that the man really could drum—when this is a band that wouldn’t have been nearly what they were with anyone else in the drummer’s chair—but his playing on the July 16 cover of Elvis’ “I’m Gonna Sit Right Down and Cry (Over You)” is showpiece stuff. Not that it’s showy. But if you wanted to enter Starr—with his enfilading fills—in a drum contest with the likes of Keith Moon, Ginger Baker, and Ian Paice, here would be a cut worth putting forward and you’d take your chances.
As I said before: compete with me.
Sent "What the Mouse Knew" to some people I know. Accompanying letter:
Okay, here this is at last. I began this story probably four months ago, maybe five. It's all documented, as with everything else, on the blog. It was in manuscript within an hour on the morning of its creation, but I've been working on it all of this time since. And it's "only" 1500 words. It is awesome. Part of The Solution to the World's Problems: Surprising Tales of Relentless Joy, which may end up being thirty-five stories long. A giant book, but there isn't enough joy in the world and there can't be too much, so this volume is both doing its part and is in earnest about its title. I'm making a work of fundamental goodness to help people, which I would have been incapable of making without my own journey and evolution as person and artist.
I have a couple days where I can bear down and just work. I want to move through a lot. There are these final stories to be written for The Solution, too. I had mentioned "The Quiet Chickadee." Among the others are "Watch Night," "The Late, Living Mrs. Rinaldi," and "Eye of Green." Titles here. Arresting titles, but just titles. This journal is one thing going forward, it'll be another going backwards. When one sees the casual reference to various works that existed and were being done at the same time, that were all in an artist's mind at the same time, like this huge list that they went through and checked off item by item as more items were always added. The oneness of it all. That everything was always just there. Constantly.
Ran 5000 stairs Wednesday and 3000 yesterday. Latter were harder--a tough humidity day. On Wednesday I went to the airport to collect my mother. It was the first time we'd seen each other in four and a half years. I would say we often talk ten hours a week. We've always talked a lot. It's not uncommon for us to talk for a couple hours. We then went back to the Admiral and the Captain's in Medford, where my mom was going to stay for a couple nights, before going to her brother's.
Then yesterday the Captain--who hurt her back--had a physical therapy appointment that the Admiral was bringing her to. I got up and hustled, finished the feature, ran the stairs, then showered and took the commuter rail to West Medford and walked in the heat all the way to the Admiral and Captain's house to see my mom, and then came home last night around eight thirty.
In my life, there are really just four people I've been close to. There have been very few people who were not up to something or who didn't treat me poorly because of what I am and their feelings of envy, fear, intimidation, what have you, which has only gotten worse as the years go by and what I am is there for anyone to see as plain as anything can be.
My mom is among those people. I know how much she wants to be here when I get to where I'm trying to get. Though we talk a lot, I must say that I don't know when I've seen her as happy as she was the past two days. I'm not a touchy-feely person, with the hugs and the kisses and all of that, but I didn't complain, and it meant a lot to me to see my mom so happy and did me good.
Finished up that book pitch regarding the seven key films of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger.
A number of Everything wrong with publishing posts are about to be coming. As I said earlier, you get the one chance now. If you discriminate against me, up you go. That's just not going to be worth it for you. Think of that choice: utilized the amazing work from the person who writes better than everyone, or discriminate against that person and be exposed, have everyone see it for what it is, you for what you, to have that follow you around, be seen by anyone who looks you up, etc. I mean, why? Why make that choice? In order not to have the amazing work or book by the great writer?
I had thought, in the past, about possible drawbacks of doing these in bulk, when there really should be at least one a day. People say, for instance, that if a person has this problem with that person, that person, that person, then it's that first person who is the problem. They are the common denominator.
But these people are so obviously corrupt, talentless, twisted, and bigoted--in an over-the-top cartoonish way--and their own words say so much, that I don't believe that's a problem here. Everything is too factual, truthful, and backed by evidence.
You have an industry that is a subculture comprised almost entirely of broken freaks with no ability. It's not hard to show in each and every case. It's a draining energy and time-wise, but you're not stretching. The case of each person makes itself. What is hard for people to believe elsewhere is that virtually everyone--thousands of people consecutively--can be a given awful way anywhere. With no variation. But that is the reality of the publishing industry. It's never been the work with me. It's never been the track record. It was never the conduct. And that leaves what it leaves.
Given that it leaves what it leaves, me not saying anything--as in the truth--and staying quiet wasn't going to help anything and would only play right into the hands of those who wished to hold me back.
Listened to more episodes of Escape, among them "Poison," "Two Came Back," and "The Red Forest." I'm taken aback by the talents of actors like John Dehner. They're in so many episodes of different programs, but you can still get to the end and hear the credits and learn for the first time that it was them in the episode.
This is my mom and me from last night.
