FUCK ME? FUCK YOU!

  Yeah, I'm back. What have I been up to during the Trump years? Let's see. I wrote three books- (F)ancestor, Family Portrait, 1926, and Virus Suite. None have been published. I had multiple shows of my work, both self generated and otherwise. I recorded plenty of new songs, did a few radio interviews and was featured in a short documentary on the Church of the Little Green Man. I got back into painting, showing in a local Motel and even sold a couple of canvases. Taken in total I can look back on the last four years and be pleased that I didn't just crawl in a hole until it was over. That said, I did stop writing this blog. I still refuse to buy a cell phone, no longer have an answering machine or TV and recently dropped almost all my social media. I still have a Twitter account, that has about a dozen followers, that I use infrequently. For all intent and purpose I have become even more of a luddite than I was in 2017. But that doesn't mean I stopped working or hunting. 

    At 68, I'm still relatively healthy, prolific, and even though I can't get a book, record, or exhibition deal to save my life, it hasn't stopped me from cranking out the product or climbing in the tree stand. I've done a thousand drawings since March. Numbers are meaningless. Periodically I send out writing to agents and magazines, receiving only rejection or silence in response. That's why I'm back at HWS. The good old internet. It never goes away. 

    I know that many disparage blog writing, finding it too casual or not worth the time to read. But lacking the support of a publisher, what the fuck am I supposed to do? I've tried a few other blogs but nothing ever catches fire. So HWS it is.....again. This past summer I reached out to a friend to inform him of a new blog. Here's an example of what I got in response:        

MO: If you read blogs Carlo- theantipastoralist.blogspot.com. Lays it all out.

CM: thanks for reminding me why I don't read blogs.

 MO: Maybe you want to be one of the Maid of Love’s royal court in the Love Parade? John is the Maid of Love. Get your girl on. And fuck you, you anti-bloggist.

 CM: when's the love parade? I might go to that, or counter-program with a hate pageant. certainly will not be at the mildred lane candlelight vigil, though I appreciate how they write- Please bring beeswax candles in place of petroleum paraffin* products what I've learned in my decades as a writer is that I always need a good editor. by such a measure I find blogs (and lots of the stuff on the internet) very sorely lacking. 

MO: Spare me your elitist, editor centric snobbery. Screw editors. Teach yourself- that’s what I say! I’m sure there’s a Youtube tutorial on the INTERNET!!!!!! Yeah, I’m making candles from gasoline and boiled down bear fat. Hope that’s PC enough. I’m just jealous of you “professional” writers. Let me know when I can be edited and be paid and I’ll join your team.

CM: funny indeed. there is of course an obvious difference between having standards and being a snob. and if the difference between a professional and an amateur is not quite so easy to explain, suppose you imagine how you might respond to a skill-deficient handyman asking you why he doesn't get hired to rebuild houses, and you can surmise your own answer to this riddle. as for one way to be a better writer I would suggest to start by being a better reader, to read for substance and style rather than information, which is part of where my efite literary tastes come from.

speaking of being a better reader-

I asked you when the love parade is and in an earlier email I asked if you had read that trash mystery "catskill" I laid on you. let me know the aforementioned, and keep in mind that what makes correspondence a conversation is the mutual regard to read the entirety of what has been addressed to you before responding. much love brother- your friend the intellectual snob.

 MO: I can’t take it. Your assumptions of your own self-worth and my worthlessness as a writer is making me cry. You need to get back to the city where people can massage that atrophying ego of yours…..or get some pot. There is a difference between reading and remembering. If I remembered every verbose string of inquiry you throw my way my head would explode. I can’t even find the questions in there. Yes, I did get into, but dropped, the Catskill book. Not very well written and didn’t really keep my attention. Drop City much better. Love Parade on July 18th 6pm., culminating in Covid-Tent and Social Distance Picnic Table opening at SS Park. I know you can read like a motherfucker, but your memory and dare I say word smithing skills are about on par with mine. Wish you kept the first letter I sent to “Mr. McCormick the East Village Eye critic.” Remember? Now THAT was some writing!

CM: laughing so hard I nearly wet my pants. my notes to just you I do try to keep brief because I know your limited attention span and learned some brevity from your constant interruptions whenever we talk in person. july 18th sounds like quite a fete, will be there for sure. maybe tristan too, but he went off this morning with his girlfriend so we'll not see him anytime too soon. sorry I did not think much of the blog you sent me today, but maybe you don't either since you seem to have abandoned it last year. I did quite enjoy the family book you wrote, and would propose the reason it is much better is because you worked on it with the discipline or rewrites and editing. skills matter, but hard work is crucial to shaping whatever we do. I do wish I had kept that letter, as well as the one jacaeber sent me, much in the same vein, saying that I had my head stuck too far up my ass to come check out what he was showing at psychedelic solution, unaware that I'd been visiting the place from the start. I got so much mail back then, it would all make a good book, but if I've lost these missives I'm happy that I've at least kept you all as friends.

MO: You call that brief? You and Andy both need some editor app that will shut you two up after 12 paragraphs and put the actual question (or point) in bold type. Saw a great doc. last night on Amazon. Gil Scott Heron- Black Wax. Please don’t tell me you hate him because the Last Poets are so much better….but you did share a cab with him and he liked your shoes. 

CM: I am a paradigm of brevity, it is just that my thoughts are larger than the diminishment of our tweet cultureI saw gil-scott heroin perform quite a few times, including some shows where he was a genuine criminal, but no personal anecdotes I'm afraid.I loved him up to the end, including his last record which he sang from his graveside of hell. attaching here a great song from that album you will dig- NY Was Killin’ Me

MO: Ahhhh…..finally common ground- NY is killing’ me! Nighty night.

I'm happy to be back. I love him, but we all know Carlo's an asshole. Screw the man. I can do it on my own. I had a nice 8 point buck under my tree stand last night. No shot, but things are heating up. Stay tuned....