You flatter me so much I think you'd want to dance with me...
I haven’t been reading nearly as much as I should on the platform recently, mostly because I am so deep into the work on my new book. That occupies about 90% of my work day, the writing and research for it. The other 10% is primarily cooking.
So I have no idea at all what you’ve been up to. And you say you haven’t been up to much. Why is that? Cat got your tongue? Holding out for winter? I can’t wait to see new work from you. It always makes me feel so good. Like hot water on mosquito bites.
I've read the Riff a bit. I don't believe I have the right stuff. You all know too much. I simply react emotionally to music.
Right now, knowing what I know, I could write forever about "Five Years." But it would be a political piece, a piece about the environment and not about the music or even the poetry.
Like you I used to listen to everything, haunting the music stores on 42nd Street and 4th Avenue in Manhattan when I was a kid, buying every cheap album I could find from Hindemith to Stockhausen to Getz. And when I was a graphic artist at fourteen, I worked for our music reviewer who tossed every album he got in the mail at me, practically. I was just a trippy kid. Hanging out.
I do what I do, and y'all do what you do so well.
I turned Lendon onto the McCartney documentary that’s playing on Netflix, specifically so she could see him explaining how easily he picked up the piano (we live almost separate lives these days and never watch the same TV). Instead of being impressed, she chided him for being an incompetent and said that Harrison was the only talented musician in the bunch.
We’re thinking, practically planning now, to move to Vermont from Tennessee. Mostly to satisfy Lendon’s end-of-life dreams. It’s okay with me, though. I hate this place and have pretty much since I arrived here. Vermont is nice. Much better folk music up there. But I’m definitely not thinking about the end of my life, yet. I’m still trying to figure out a way to become sixteen again.