I have a new publication in Qaartsiluni, "Tectonic Illusion." Q is a fine online journal with much good writing to recommend it. It took me two tries to get in. I also have an audio version there, if any have a wish to hear my voice.
My piece is the only formal poem in the bunch.
Here's another link to Soundzine with a recording of "Wading the Smith."
And there's always "Where Are the Frogs" at Blue's Cruzio Cafe.
Physically I'm still in bad shape, in a world of pain if it were not for the morphine and Celebrex to mask it. And mask it they do; since returning to my smoking addiction, the early cough and lung pain alarms seem switched off; this poses a danger to my health, but it is worth the trade-off of rising out of bed without dreading it so much. I can lift my arms only in John McCain style. And I still can't play the guitar due to the nerve injuries. 40 years of practice and I'm interrupted. I'll get an MRI soon to see if there's a surgical lesion that proves remediable, but my hope is that time will be my healer--I dread surgery and have historically recommended to patients that they avoid it unless absolutely necessary, for it is violence done to Nature, and Nature usually has a better path to offer.
Better to die of Nature than Science. Let my children and siblings and grandchildren be gathered to my bedside like Jacob when I go, so I can say once more, "I'm the luckiest man in the world!" Which I am!
I've filed papers on Jacob's father to restore grandparents' visitation rights. He left me no choice. My birthday present, arranged surreptitiously through my second daughter, a day with Jacob, was heavenly. How I love that little squirt! (Picture on previous blog.)
I've fought the deer to a standstill and still have my garden blooming under deer netting into November, not to mention some healthy red romaine lettuce for salads. My newly planted blue blossom and princess flower bush add new color. In Mendocino you can grow many plants year round due to the mild climate, though my zinnias are approaching their mutual end.
Tonight I attend a Halloween party and dress up in costume for the first time in over ten years. I go as Caesar because it was the only costume that fit me. But I need sandals, or should I wear cowboy boots for satire? Best to invest in the costume wholly and play the part. Toga, toga!
I have piles of paper on my desk, mostly medical bill disputes. I hate dealing with the bureaucracy on this, since all the work seems to fall on me. Blue Shield doesn't know its asshole from a hole in the ground, truly, and you can never get the same claims adjuster twice. It's all computerized, but much data has not been entered, resulting in eternal co-pay long after I pass the out-of-pocket limit.
I ordered eight new CDs since playing music in my van to LA and back, which gave me a new thirst for music. Two by Leonard Cohen, two by Brahms (complete piano quartets), Dances with Wolves and Natural Born Killers soundtracks, and two by the Grateful Dead. Call me eclectic; my ears hunger for quality in diversity. Brahms arrived first, my favorite composer, and plays in the background as I write.
Much of the trivial today, but the literary ultimately rests upon the apotheosis of the trivial. I've started a new story in the SteamPunk genre for a magazine challenge. You can look it up in Wikipedia; it's a Victorian version of Cyberpunk, roughly.