May 18, 2002

I finished reading and marking the first draft of the book today. This was a major accomplishment for me. Fourth book. The first one that I was actually able to read through and think that it is still a book after I finished reading it. After a week of depression, I am feeling both pumped and psyched. I have another week of corrections, revisions and filling in the blanks on the computer for this book to be finished. I am going to do that this upcoming week and simultaneously attempt to put my life back together as I have dropped everything to get this revised draft thing done. I feel as if a load has been lifted. Thank you God.

Just for fun, here is what I have to worry/write about this week although it won’t mean anything to you who haven’t seen the book yet. Some notes for me to remember:

Needs more Van Halen references.
Weird lines on pages 152 to 160.
Chapter 10 – Steve pulls his hair as he walks into school.
Chapter 26 – Metallica on the Grammy Award Show.
Chapter 28 – Ricky = Hellhammer. Dan = The Erectiocutioner. Gary = The Demon God.
Ron = The Thrashomatic aka He Who Cannot Sing.
Chapter 31 – Fireworks. Whites Only. Old black lady with a walker. Taco Bell. Re-write
Steve’s prank phone call.
Chapter 32 – Look at it again.
Chapter 36 – Maybe that is the point of the book.
Chapter 39 – Write Steve chapter. Desire back story.
Chapter 41 – Needs help. (ex-Procreation)
Chapter 50 – Needs work. (weight loss)
Chapter 53 – Finish first day of school in shock. More Gary. More Steve.
Chapter 54 – First day. Jane’s Addiction. Parmatown. Dump truck. Starving.
Chapter 55 – Write big night out with the dudes.
Chapter 57 – Jump fence for the first time. The end of the school year.
Chapter 58 – Write Gary’s big ass party.
Chapter 59 – Write Steve looks forward to adulthood.
Too many “Happy Days” references.


posted by Thea at 5:53 PM

May 17, 2002

My younger brother of Southern California tells a story about the time that he discovered some rotten chicken in a Tupperware container at the back of his refrigerator. In the story, he vomits from the smell of the rotten chicken in his back yard in front of his wife and son who wonder why he is vomiting. I always laugh at the story for a couple of reasons. One is that my brother knows how to tell a funny story, two is that he was mad at whoever forgot about the chicken in the refrigerator and mad that he was throwing up in front of his impressionable little boy who he did not want to have to see dad puking and three is that I find it funny and, frankly, unimaginable that something would smell so bad that it would cause vomiting the instant it was smelled.

It is a classic story and I will always laugh at the image that I have of my brother. “Who left that chicken in the refrigerator? Barf.”

I came one step closer to understanding the vomit on smell part of the story today – the day that I smelled the worst smell that I have ever smelled at the library.

It is Friday - the day of the long lunch. I decided to go to the library to look at a book before going to PJ’s Luncheonette with a couple of the guys from work. I told them that I was going to the library first and that I would meet them back in the lobby of the building in a half of an hour. I tried to go to the bathroom before leaving the office but there was a full house in the office facilities. I did not have to go so bad so I figured that I could wait until I got to the library. The cold air outside kicked my bladder into gear. I picked up the pace down Ontario. There was a police parade down Superior Avenue that I ran through to get to the can. (can. Thea. can.) in the library. Excuse me, million police officers. Full bladder coming through. I ran up to the second floor bathroom and did my business. The bathroom did not smell good. Relieved, I went into the closest entrance with books in it, which was naturally the wrong one. I walked past the e-mail computers and tables and broke down the back way to the other side of the building where I needed to be taking the scenic route. The smell got worse. I saw a hobo sitting and a table full of books talking to himself. I figured that was the offending source. The smell got worse. I turned the last corner to my destination. The smell got worse. I saw a hobo sitting at a table with a coat over his head and his nasty shoes off his feets sitting under the table. The smell exploded in my nose. The worse smell I have ever smelled in the library. That section of the library was completely vacant except for a librarian on the upper deck calling security on her cell phone. I really picked up my pace but the smell got worse. I could not out run it. I started to panic and thought of my brother puking in his back yard. This is what it must have been like. I ran out of the book area of the library and down the stairs. The smell would not leave me. It had over taken my entire sense of smell. Stink. Stink. Stink. I was afraid that this is what I was going to smell for the rest of my life but the ice cold May air (what the fuck? get warmer) eventually made my nose work properly again. That was a close call with the worst smell that I have ever smelled in the library.

posted by Thea at 10:09 PM

THIS WAS BLOGGED UP LAST NIGHT WHILE BLOGGING BUT BLOGGER WOULD NOT LET ME BLOG DUE TO BLOGNICAL DIFFICULTIES.

May 16, 2002

I edited the first fifty pages of the book this morning. It was not as bad as I thought. I sat at my kitchen table and read the book aloud to the cats in a Boston accent. The book is funnier that way. At least the cats think so.

I worked on some mind numbing busy work at the office. It was nice. I could listen to the radio all day without having to concentrate on what I was working on. That is the best. I did some reading on my lunch break on minimalism while eating the worst orange that I have eaten in months. Heartbreaking.

I left work early and took the 326 bus down Detroit Avenue into Lakewood, OH to meet my wife for dinner. I read “The Room” while the bus driver picked up and left off the dregs of humanity adding a nice effect to the Selby experience. It is killing me – what is going on Detroit Avenue. It was not like this ten years ago. I used to take the bus from West 91st Street into downtown Cleveland, OH to work every day. I can tell you with total confidence that all of Detroit Avenue is getting worse. Way worse. Everyone who rides that bus is loud. Everybody who rides that bus is stupid. Everybody who rides that bus is ugly. Also heartbreaking.

I went to an unnamed Rocky River, OH deli for dinner. It goes without saying that I received excellent top-notch service along with my delicious vegetarian sandwich.

I saw the pictures of Pink in this month’s Maxim magazine at the bookstore right before coming home. My wife pointed the issue out calling me from another shelf of magazines. She is regretting that bad decision. We had to leave the bookstore abruptly. I made my first move in the parking lot in the Volkswagen. She said we should go home first. I made my second move in the living room. She said let's go upstairs. Upstairs, she asked me if I was going to BLOG first. I am done BLOGGING. Let the games begin.



posted by Thea at 5:43 AM

May 15, 2002

The book is now 300 plus pages of bullshit staring me in the face. I got to the point today where it was ready to be printed. I have still yet to write an entire book on e-mail computer and I don’t think that I ever will. I would rather just type it out on an IBM Selectric II typewriter and scan that into the e-mail computer to edit it but that takes too long so I take breaks on the typewriter and write while standing up when I can’t sit still anymore. That is a big problem for me – sitting still. I should rig the e-mail computer so I can stand and write but I don’t have enough room in my office to really jump around like I want to do.

Now, I have to read the white pages of the book and mark them with a blue pen. This is not easy. I don’t want to do it. I jumped around the book reading bits out loud in my office and it all sounded weak. I would rather just start another book and maybe that one will be good. I am going to force myself to mark up fifty pages a day until it is done starting tomorrow. Tomorrow.

I saw an old picture of myself from probably about ten years ago today from an office function. My hair was longer. I was fatter. I was smiling – a big smile. That was weird. I don’t normally smile. What was weirder still was that the person I was looking at pictures with who has known me since the picture was taken noted that it was weird that I was smiling.

“You never smile,” the person said and threatened to hang the picture up on the community bulletin board in the lunchroom.

“I never smile,” I thought.

“Houses of the Holy” is my favorite Led Zeppelin album. “Over the Hills and Far Away” is my favorite Led Zeppelin song. I am listening to this jam as I hit the BLOG. The great thing about Led Zeppelin – especially this album and “Physical Graffiti” - is that no matter how many times you listen to it, you will always hear something different. Even though these songs have been drilled into our heads through classic rock radio, what you think that you are hearing is not really what it is. Does that make sense? On most Led Zeppelin songs, if you really pay attention, you will notice that Jimmy Page is pretty damn sloppy and the guitar is always just off what you think would logically and mathematically go into the music – kind of like Charlie Watts of the Rolling Stones drumming. It is just a little off. That is why a Led Zeppelin cover band never really does sound like Led Zeppelin. They are truthfully playing what is written on paper but not the song they way it was actually put down on record. With “Houses of the Holy” and “Physical Graffiti”, Led Zeppelin record almost exclusively on the Rolling Stones’ mobile recording unit in various houses in Europe. Without any hourly costs for studio time, Jimmy Page could put layer after layer of sloppy guitar on top of each other that is still interesting to listen to almost thirty years later. I am still hearing new stuff on “No Quarter” and I have been bugging out to that song for years with and without the benefit of doobies and super doobies. Of the three songs that are tired on “Houses of the Holy”: “The Crunge”, “D’yer Mak’er” and “The Ocean”, only the “where’s the bridge” part of “The Crunge” I would not mind if I never heard again and the rest of the album I will never get bored of. That is a sign of a great album. Did you know that they are singing do wop at the end of “The Ocean”?

posted by Thea at 6:19 PM

May 14, 2002

How did today suck? Let me count the ways.

I woke up this morning and edited the book for an hour before I went to work. Work has been painfully slow since the office that I work for merged with another office and I won’t be sitting in my new office across Public Square for a couple of weeks. There is really nothing to do at the old office so everybody just kind of walks around in small circles all day. I load the book into my computer at the office and switch from editing the book to boring office work - each activity resulting in exactly the same amount of joy. None. Editing this book is destroying me through self doubt. What sucks - I know I can change. But will it suck again? That question I cannot answer.

I spoke to the webmaster about new stuff for the website. Look out.
I edited the book.
I spoke to my friend Tom in Brooklyn, NY about the competitive nature of art.
I edited the book.
I fought with Thea.
I edited the book.
I spoke to my wife about the Parma Animal Shelter and fighting with Thea.
I edited the book.
I looked at Thea’s BLOG and read her haikus. They were good. There is a reason that why I like her.
I edited the book.
I left for home.
I wrote three haikus on the bus from Public Square to the Shoreway. That is one of the great things about haiku. It is fast. I love the idea of impulse as art and these haikus are almost pure impulse created under the structure of the haiku with the exception of the first one that I thought about before I actually got on the bus.

The past disappeared.
A never ending present
Ignores the future.

Yes, editing sucks
Killing me slowly with words
It’s breaking my balls

Work’s boring. No shit.
Office. Fluorescent. Graveyard.
One more bathroom break.

That took about five minutes. I noticed all the women reading on the bus and opened up “The Room” by Hubert Selby Jr. for the rest of my trip home. That book rules. I ate dinner and have been editing the book for three hours while listening to Bad Religion. “Suffer”, “No Control” and “Against the Grain” were all released when I was in high school (88-90) and have stuck with me since then - still completely shredding. I think that the Bad Religion has fallen off since the eighties but these three records stand the test of time. I am done.



posted by Thea at 8:59 PM

May 12, 2002

Happy Mother’s Day to all mothers everywhere.

The poems from today’s BLOG are part of a longer series of poems that I wrote to illustrate the belief that some people have that God is real - more real than just an idea or a vague notion of omnipotence ruling over the universe. Catholics are always on the saints or the Virgin Mary to intervene to God for them and, in turn, believe that God is involved in their lives in some active way. Growing up in a catholic school and having fundamentalist parents had me always thinking that Jesus was right around the corner waiting to pull me out of a jam or bust me for swearing.

I am finalizing only the first couple of poems from this series because the remainder are too sacrilegious and, and out of respect to my mother on Mother’s Day, I can’t allow them to get out there. I might rewrite the series (where Jesus becomes a problem roommate and steals my girlfriend) one day but that will not be today. Also, big ups to Thea for her continued use of the word Negro. I wholeheartedly agree with her belief that it does sound sophisticated. Unfortunately, this is a very touchy subject – a hot biscuit as they say in this country – and it is not up to Whitey to decide what the black man calls himself. I will say, in turn, that I do like Caucasian better than white too. So there.

Finally, today will be the last BLOG that contains old writing until I am done with the book I am working on. I have been spending way too much time on editing old shit and I really need to pour that effort into finishing the book. I hit the 75K word mark today. A short book is 60K. A long book is 100K. I was aiming for 80K words by Memorial Day getting started on Easter. So, clearly, I am almost there as far as word count goes but there is way too much editing to do for me to do anything else in the next two weeks. I have got to the dangerous almost done phase with three other books and could not finish them – much to the disappointment of my wife who sees me writing and writing with nothing ever getting finished. It is happening, whether I want it to or not, this time. I wrote the ending first.

So, I will be checking in with daily BLOGS but don’t expect any content until after Memorial Day.

And the people said… Amen.

Modern Day Negro Spiritual #1

Oh what a friend we have in Jesus
He walks with me
He talks with me
A friend closer than any brother
Footprints
He carried me when I could not walk
A personal relationship with Jesus
Is just what the doctor ordered
So I asked Jesus
To be my friend
Since I was lonely
I turned to Him

(1995)

Modern Day Negro Spiritual #2

Oh Sweet Jesus
Just as close to me
As my own brother

We watched TV today
And shot some hoops
In the afternoon
Jesus was very supportive
I asked Him
To help me
With my jump shot
I prayed to my friend
He shoots
He scores

(1995)

Modern Day Negro Spiritual #3

Praise you Jesus
You allowed me to sleep well
My sacred friend
With dreams of heaven
And all of Your glory
You and your angel friends
Kept watch over my bed
You did not let
Bad guy Satan
Touch a hair on my head
I love you Jesus
Fellow scout
In the cub pack of heaven
You guide my canoe
Floating down
The river of life

(1995)





posted by Thea at 10:16 AM