I need to do a lot better than I'm doing, that's for sure. Do better with life, dealing with things. Checking what I have to check, getting back to people. I've been in survival mode for so long. One shouldn't be able to live like this. I should have been dead a long time ago. Anyone else would trying to live this way, in this situation, with each day being what it is. I've taken on so much water. Pick whatever analogy. I've bled everywhere, all the blood has come out of me, and I still walk on. I walk on by creating, and that's how I don't give in and die. It's hard for me to find more blood to give anywhere else, to deal with anything else, which requires that blood. I'm a bomb crater, really. I've been bombed out after the years, the decades of this. The hell and horror every day. Totally alone. Despised. Feared. Locked out. So many people working against me. The toll. One can't imagine the toll. I don't even go through the mail. The physical mail. I have a Christmas card from someone and I can't even open it. I can't deal with anything. But then I create like I do, and I deal with that. And I do what I need to do in these pages, and I deal with that. Though I have to do so much more. I have to get better at these things of which I speak. I have to find the strength.
I began two new short stories today. Why I did this, I do not know. I have like 600 available stories right now. Eight new ones have been created this week? I think that's the number. My imagination and my ability--I just can't turn them off. But I don't think I will write more today. I need to push away, briefly. I'll finish the Fisk later. I think there's a good chance I'm going to end up doing four novels at once. I hesitate making that known. It doesn't sound possible. It's an easing up for me, in reality. And they're so different that it's not different than working on four different pieces, having them going, at the same time. They're just longer pieces. I sent a pitch on that Who tape to a former editor this morning. I created another version of the Fourth of July/Mosses from an Old Manse 2000 word piece, in case the place I sent it to yesterday can't use it. There was a swear, and the two other venues I have in mind wouldn't allow that. Then I found an error--a random word that was erased--so that was annoying. Always the way. Looks perfectly clean, send it, and then accidentally find something. Then I cut a few words and joined what had been two sentences, for flow. Shaved for a first time in a week with the dull razor blades that scratch up my face. My skin will look raw until tomorrow.
Anyway. You'll be all right. You're too strong. The cause is too just. You are too in the right for you not to be all right. You are too much better at what you do than anyone has ever come close to being at anything else. You'll find what you need inside of you to do what you have to do.
Let's get this Fisk thing done straight away tomorrow. See if it fits in You're Up, You're Down, You're Up: Essays on Art in Life and Life in Art. Do the blogs you don't want to do that are going to light some people on fire. Then keep doing them. All the ones you have to do. Until this is over, and you've won. And then keep doing it, because no one is getting away with anything in the end. Do it when you have everything you want and everything you need and set out for. No one gets away. But Fisk for now. Then really get down to doing what you need to do re: Same Band You've Never Known: An Alternative Musical History of the Beatles. Have the Billie Holiday proposal where it needs to be. Figure out where you can some money for the Fourth of July feature or the op-ed. Put the preface into Glue God: Essays (and Tips) for Repairing a Broken Self, and give that manuscript one last hard, devoted, unflinching, careful read. Fix what needs fixing. Make sure we're going A to B. Hunker down with Longer on the Inside: Very Short Fictions of Infinitely Human Lives. Do it every day or near every day until it is every bit as tight and perfect--while still risking everything--like There Is No Doubt: Story Girls is. Start the Dracula chapter. Work on the four novels at once: EU, Musings with Franklin, The Freeze Tag Sessions, The Year of Doing Nothing and Everything. Tidy up The Root of the Chord: Writings on Jazz's Essential Power and Artistry. Put in the Coleman Hawkins piece and the Round Midnight piece. Determine what overlap there is, and make it so there is none. Write the Thelonious Monk feature for JazzTimes quickly, because you need that money. Consider the piece for The Root of the Chord. Put together the pitch for OUP's Very Short Introduction Series. Do the "Creep"/Radiohead pitch. There are, what, twenty new stories in manuscript that need work, revisiting, rereading? Do that. Complete "Up the Sea." There are 500 other things to do, but this will get you started, and it's where the focus needs to be right now. Collect the monies you are owed. Get in the rhythm. Sometimes we're going to have to not sleep for three days, but be continuing to exercise, too. There has to be weeks with twenty entries in this journal. Do the fixes on the site, make a list for the webmaster, organize the thousands of links so we can finally get the sections up to date. More exercise, better diet, more water.
It's later now. Twenty of eight at night. I just wrote a 1400 word story. Of course you did. It's about dead babies and Hitler, and it's funny and beautiful and it will make one cry, which does not sound possible. Good God I am out there. I am just out there creating where no one has created before. I am so hyper-cognizant of that. No one has been where I am right now. It's called "Creative Approaches."
Also located a copy of the eighteen-disc Led Zeppelin bootleg set, Studio Magik.