Mother Culture Croons All Night

image of Ishmael book cover

This week­end I began recov­ery from read­ing Ish­mael. It’s hard not to won­der how we’re sup­posed to move for­ward from this damn book. Quinn him­self, in an author’s note at the back, refers to it as much more than a book.

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X-Men: The Animated Series

x-men2

I’ve been indulging the hell out of my mostly-​​​​quiet inner 9-​​​​year-​​​​old with a 2-​​​​week marathon of that clas­sic 90s Sat­ur­day morn­ing toon. This is only sort of like my Star Trek: TNG Obses­sion of 2010; I watched TNG reli­giously, with my fam­ily, every Sat­ur­day night. For seven years. But X-​​​​Men was mine and mine alone. My sis­ter didn’t care; my folks didn’t get it. I had to be care­ful not to blow my week­end TV quota before Sat­ur­day at 11:00. Some­times I hid so my par­ents wouldn’t know I’d indulged away that pre­cious half-​​​​hour. Lemme lay it out for you: A TV show, about a band of mis­fits, with super-​​​​human pow­ers, with all kinds of inter­per­sonal problems,…

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One eye on the road

Among the few things I'm certain of: I sold lemonade from that bench one summer.

If I’ve been elu­sive here, it’s not because I don’t care. Tra­di­tion­ally, I’ve used this space to talk about (and some­times process) the ques­tions that emerge writ­ing this end­less book. Some­how I’ve painted myself into an academic-​​colored cor­ner. That’s chang­ing. In fact, a lot of things are gonna change round these parts.

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The Google and the Hare

defeated

My mother wrote last week with news of Apple’s lat­est patent vic­tory, this time State­side. It got me going, and I’ve flat­tened it out here for your pleasure.

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Insignificant Rubicon

Exhausted Collapse

I’ve landed in New Mex­ico. Tonight my team launches An Under­ground Guide to Albur­querque #6. This week­end I unpack some, try not to unspool. I’m just eager to get on to the next phase. This year has demol­ished and rebuilt me.

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Home to home

The Hot Club of New Orleans does their thing. Their thing is very, very sexy.

By the power of Greyskull, here’s the update. At least, the first of the updates I thought would hap­pen. This trip’s been a litany of better-​​than-​​no-​​time-​​at-​​all con­ver­sa­tions and dri­ving, brain­mush and dri­ving, unsea­son­able weather and driving.

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Fare well, old friend

Image of Longfellow Pond on a cloudy day

I knew this day was com­ing. I’ve known it would come for years now. But, con­trary to the last ten months’ wait­ing for a few moments, I haven’t thought much about today. I’ve been cry­ing a lot about leav­ing, which I think alone rep­re­sents some huge per­sonal growth. I’ve also been cry­ing about my son, my ex, my cur­rent rela­tion­ship that’s now end­ing, and the enor­mity of what’s not in my hands as I return. In Burque I have love, sec­ond fam­ily, chile, pseudo-​​​​jobs and my beloved writ­ing posts wait­ing, as I leave behind my first fam­ily, my lover, and one of my clos­est friends. More than any trip I’ve ever started on, today truly feels…

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What's all this, then?

I’m writ­ing a book to under­stand my hometown’s dis­in­ter­est in its own his­tory, and my role in that. It’s sort of become a novel. This is the full story.

This is my play­ground. It reflects and pre­dicts what’s hap­pen­ing in the book.

Things I dis­cuss: East­ern Mass. his­tory, sto­ry­telling, book­mak­ing, time travel, poetry & nov­els, writ­ing craft, dreams, pub­lish­ing, indige­nous per­spec­tives, spir­i­tu­al­ity, research, and what­ever I can’t get outta my head.