Random notes on my desk
Like most writers I have notes scattered everywhere. Sometimes I can’t figure out what I was thinking. Other times they make me laugh.
Diagraming if Sartre and Nietzsche fought.
New Orleans is a sexy town.
It’s sensual, it’s sexy. You can feel the air. You just know behind all those shutters on a hot afternoon…
"Solvitur ambulando" ~ it is solved by walking, Saint Augustine.
My wife and I try to walk everyday. It’s an hour and a half without screens, just us walking and talking. We call it “counting cats”. That’s what we do. We count the cats we see along the way. They are mostly strays. New Orleans is a city of strays, both feline and human. Walking is not writing. Only writing is writing. But sometimes a walk can help you think something through or find an idea while looking at ships on the river. In 2022 we walked more than 500 miles and more than 600 in both 2023 and 2024. One foot in front of the other is a good way to live.
The dilemma of freedom- stray vs owned.
Recognize the signs
Recently I was in DC for a couple weeks attending a class at the National Defense University. The students were mostly mid-grade officers, Majors and Lieutenant Colonels. There were only a few senior enlisted. It was a great class with tons of good conversations and a lot of jokes. I always feel outgunned in a crowd like that and it often turns my mind to the paths of life. Every little choice can have major effects. Anyway, one morning I was lying in bed thinking about the nature of class. It’s a common thought in my work. After about an hour I got out of bed, made some coffee and started getting ready for class. Eventually I opened the curtains and was greeted by a naked woman in the building across the way. It was as if God or the universe has slapped me across the head and said, “pay attention to what matters stupid!” You have to recognize the signs. You have to be open to the gifts.
Soft Hands
My dad has a theory that a significant portion of populace has never worn out a pair of work gloves. We laugh about it. “Mr. big pockets has soft hands.” But my variation on the theory is the question of how many wives wear out work gloves? I am fortunate to have married a worker. She is a coworker. I never have to worry if she is up to the task. Honestly, she outworks me.
My wife’s work gloves.
Why don't more people retire from the world to attend to their souls?
I think we should bring that back. Ora et labora makes a lot of sense.
When life imitates art
Ballard recently got very similar to Ballard Redoubt. The F/V North American sunk while tied to the dock. Investigation is ongoing but I’m betting a sea strainer. Hopefully no Tommys are aboard.
Funny story- I know this boat. They were tenders for the SE salmon fleet. They had a Norwegian crewman that used to yell, “Kill Fish!” to motivate us. We loved it and ended up writing it on our gloves.
Always bring a book
You never know when you’ll have to wait out a rocket attack. I prefer real books but a kindle or iPad gives you a ton of options. I keep “Against the Grain” by Huysmans on my phone for anytime I get caught unprepared at a doctors appointment or the DMV. Someday I’ll finish it.
Books I wish I had found in my twenties.
One of the great joys of being a reader is the discovery of books and writers at the time in your life you need them most. But, alas, sometimes you miss the bus and discover those books and writers later in life. It seems to me that a young man’s life should be lived somewhere between these two books.
Nasty!
Alright, this one jumps to the top of my favorite reviews ever. So simple, and clean. Right to the point. Nasty!
Essential Furniture
My wife likes to tease me that through my twenties I only had three pieces of furniture: a futon, a rocking chair and a weight bench. It was all a young man needed. It covered all the main food groups, all the essentials. Now that I dabble in woodworking I think I might try building a rocking chair because because futons are for poor young men and wooden weight benches are sketchy.
A complete gym in the desert. The 463L pallet with the bricks on the left is the deadlift station. We never could get that level and you had to use the bricks to keep the bar from rolling off into the gravel and sand. Nothing is adjustable. It just is. Spartan in the true sense of the word.
You want to know what I'm scared of?
I’m fairly comfortable with dangerous things: guns, large machines, war. What scares the shit out of me is a kitchen mandolin. I don’t even like making eye contact with the motherfucker. Someday it’s going to jump off the hook it lives on and trim my fingernails to the second knuckle. If it wasn’t such a useful tool I’d throw it in the river. Nah, I wouldn’t do that. It’d probably cut ten fish in half on the way down. Don’t even make eye contact.
Happy Labor Day!
Happy Labor Day from your favorite writer of labor. Okay I just made that up but it sounds pretty cool and obviously labor is one of my top three themes- the others being sex and love. But what is labor? Is all work labor? No. Unfortunately in the Navy I spend a lot of time on computers. That is work but not labor. Is writing a book labor? Absolutely not. Labor is physical and there is physical cost to the laborer. Labor transforms one substance into another- metal into cars, concrete into foundations, fish into food. For more insights into my thoughts on labor I recommend A Hell Called Ohio and Ballard Redoubt. In the meantime, enjoy some random pics of labor.
An Author's Voice
Driving through Michigan’s Upper Peninsula and listening to True North by Jim Harrison. It’s good but I wonder how much better it could have been had he read the book himself. It’s the same thought I have when I think of Shelby Foote and Larry Brown. Those wonderful voices gone from the world. What I would pay to hear them read their own stories, hear the inflections and accents, hear their words.
Art
Do you remember the banana at Art Basel? We talk about art in my house a lot. What it means, what it should mean, etc. I know some painters who refer to themselves as painters instead of artists because of the total devaluation of the term. Well, that’s a conversation for another day. I was deployed in Iraq when the banana made its debut and I took my own take, or takes, on it. And no, I don’t believe it is art.
My Readers
I always enjoy notes from my readers. Sometimes they point out mistakes in the book. Modern books are almost all print on demand. That means when a customer or bookstore orders a book, a book printing machine spits it out. This descendant of Gutenberg can print Hell then War and Peace then 1984 then Sundog then Hell. It’s truly a modern marvel and it allows a writer or publisher to fix or edit a book at any time. Of course, it’s even easier with ebooks. Did you know Leaves of Grass had nine editions? This technology might have driven Whitman insane. There’s a joke in my house- “Do you know what’s under a Michael Deas painting?” “Another Michael Deas painting!” Constant revision can be its own trap. Anyway, thanks to my wonderful readers who keep the book improving especially Ian, Roggan and Nada.
Writing Advice
You are going to die. You are going to die sooner than you would prefer. You only have one life and therefore one chance to write the book you want to write. Choose wisely.
Publishers want to sell books. You should want to sell books. This does not mean what publishers want and what editors suggest coincides with the book you want to write. You are going to die. Choose wisely.
Mishima's deathday.
I am a fan of Mishima’s novels. Sometimes I just have to shake my head and laugh. Only he could say such things.
“Covered by a slightly faded green plaid skirt, her bottom in the winter sunlight seemed crammed with the very essence of life, as voluptuous as any painted by Renoir. She exuded the kind of glossy freshness one might find in a brand new tube of toothpaste just taken from its box, with its promise of a crisp morning.”
-Life For Sale by Yukio Mishima
Deployment reads
My luggage is mostly books.
Bunker music
Sometimes in life you have to go to the bunker and wait while the big lopsided wheel spins deciding who lives and who dies. It helps to have music, written and performed by friends, while you wait on fate.
