The Howls of Banshees, my Return to Talk Radio, and the Search for Roy Buchanan
Yes, so I like the Chelsea Market font...so sue me.
The past few months have shown intense activity on far too many fronts. Let's just say the radio business has kept me busy, busy, busy, but it's working.
I'm reminded of a certain NBA player freestyle rapping about how a certain star "couldn't do it w/o me," and what followed. The ego will kill you, and that, coupled with many other factors can do ever more destructive damage.
I'm not talking me, but I could be. I've been there.
I am listening to the growls and snarls, and listening to the slitherings of creatures not made by any being, but by the creature itself...it makes itself, and it changes itself, but fears change except for when forced to do nothing else.
Leaning over an old guitar, one that came back to me recently. More on that in a sec.
I've had my own mental wear-out, but I'm surprisingly surviving it over the past several months. I'm afraid some friends are going to find me incredibly misanthropic, and even unapproachable for a while.
Actually, nothing has changed. That's a point we need to make--nothing has changed about anything.
We're still doing whatever it is we're doing on this planet as we crawl about. Insert now a monologue by Vincent Price, which I reprised on a dance floor in Somerville, MA way back in the day as part of some other, distant thing.
I have a partially torn rotator cuff, on my left. The pain has not been that bad, but now that we have identified the problem, I'm doing PT and exercising it.
I can't swim for a long while, but I can ride the bike and stay semi-aerobically fit and keep trying to take more pounds off. They all came back, urgh.
The writing thing...so much I've worked on the past couple of years, which is why you don't see me here writing these things.
Finally...Aki and the gang are coming out!
Searching for Roy Buchanan will make its way out on Brown Posey Press in the coming months. The work of 12 years actually needs be done again.
The book is good; the beginning of the saga is there, and in place. I rewrote the sequel recently, for the first time in six years. More material, more stuff, more of my own songs.
It's getting better. Long way off, but better.
My other writings, oh, when shall they make light of day? No idea.
But patient I must be. As impatient as I am. As in a hurry as I am.
I must have these all in place before I leave this body for the next step, whatever that is.
A little affirmation came my way a while back. I'm head on the right track, I think.
And this has occurred:
Yes, I'm again a talk show host. But not that kind.
The Brown Posey Press Show is about books, authors, the writing life, and other fun things.
I'm one of several from Sunbury Press to host these programs; they are retro sounding, a bit analog, a little odd, and so forth, but I get to engage with fellow authors, their books, characters, and we get to find out what makes the writers tick.
It's kinda fun; a lot of work, but fun.
I'm having fun. Writing, this therapy, getting it out, and occasionally confounding and even freaking a few people out. That's the kind of fun I like.
Searching... must do more. It must step forward, and I hope you will find that one of interest. I don't even know where most of these come from, but I have a few points that make sense, and the rest doesn't.
Live from the Cafe, my latest was a trip back to my hometown, but also to the places around there. What I remember is there, but I tried to also find what I lost.
I lost about six years of my life there. I still don't know where it is. I suppose that is why I write these things.
That, plus the need to do something original and different.
I have made a point of reading a bit more widely, and that was a fault. I didn't always; reasons for that, but now I find more things on my shelves that I didn't think would be there, but they are part of the effort.
I've interviewed people more intelligent and worldly than me. Much more I have to do, not to match them, but to find what I'm missing.
I'm missing a lot.
I have to find it in the next 20+ years, and I believe that will occur, but I must keep making it work.
Make it work. Make anything work. We all do it, despite some who feel no one but they can do it.
And then they do...nothing. Or something that is counterproductive.
Too many in my past opine for the past, remember things past that are gone and never returning. Find new things, make the things. Make the new things.
I'm exhausted, can you tell? When am I not?
I now will move on to the next task...it does not end.
I won't let it...told an old friend recently, "I don't quit."
There is one thing you will never call me at the end of my days...quitter.
No fucking way.