Hey, everyone! Hope this tire fire of a world has been kind to you so far this week. I know this is late, but last week was crazier than expected. A few bad things happened and then a few god things happened, but that’s life, isn’t it? I have some time today (I’m doing a lot of grading, reading, and writing, but you know what I mean), so here we are. Let’s get to it.
WANDERLUST
I live caught between “I’m glad I’m here” and “I can’t way to go (insert place).” Right now that place is home. I miss the beach and my mom and the historic streets of Old San Juan, the cradle of barrio noir. If all goes well, I hope to go home for the winter break. In any case, I’ve learned that a lot of people are the same way. We crave the road. We need it because we need to look at new/different things. We need it because we see ourselves as the sum of everything we’ve experiences, and we experience a lot when you’re going places. Anyway, here’s a thing I wrote 7 years ago. I’d rewrite the hell out of it (I’d also rewrite all my books if given the opportunity), but I think there’s beauty in it anyway, especially because it shows me thinking about the same stuff I’m thinking about now:
We were young and drunk and happy and the water in Amelia Island was cold but our hearts were full of fire. I want to be there today.
She wore a black leather jacket and an old gypsy woman told her she was going to have a daughter and her feet were bleeding from walking too much and Madrid was pure magic and museums and cockroaches at night. I want to be there today.
There was snow on the rooftops and poems written on the walls and folks who were packed with love milling around and the wind told me nothing really mattered that much. I want to be there today.
We gave the canoe a name and the ocean healed our wounds and the booze fueled our dreams and friendship was something tangible and the future was uncertain but far away and the immediacy of skin and sand made it less scary. I want to be there today.
Her minuscule apartment overlooked a gas station and there were cacti planted in an old, rusty grill and the beach was a few hundred feet away and tiny brown lizards were dancing on the walls and only music and new love mattered. I want to be there today.
The fridge was empty and the raindrops pummeling the window were a thousand tiny demons trying to get in and devour me and the live-in manager was screaming while high on pain meds and ignorance and lukewarm Jamaican beer and the heater was busted and it was 38 degrees inside but I had a few novels and a new obsession with Everett Ruess and my guitar and an old laptop and time in front of me. I want to be there today.
That park in West Palm Beach where we slept two nights while Willie struggled with dry contact lenses. That muddy river in Guánica where dark shapes crisscrossed underneath the kayak. That beach in Costa Rica where the rocks were covered with promises. That ledge in El Yunque that we used as an umbrella when the rain was the end of the world and we saw black snails the size of plates. That juke joint in East Austin where the ghosts turned into funk. I want to be there and there and there. I want to be there today.
Anyway, the picture I used here is one I took in my Philadelphia back in 2011. It was cold and I was walking around in the middle of the night. I had my camera with me and decided to play with the light.
WAITING
Here’s a piece of unsolicited writing advice. Want to be a writer? Learn how to wait. This gig is all about writing and then waiting. We wait for emails and contracts. We wait for feedback and publication. We wait for everything. We also wait to announce things. I have some good news—some translations, a potential new gig, etc—but all of that has to wait because I can’t talk about any of it yet. I can, however, say this again: whatever you want will require a lot of work, so be ready to work and work and wait and then work and wait some more. It’s totally worth it.
SHIRLEY JACKSON AWARDS
The Shirley Jackson Awards ceremony will be on Saturday, July 15th. The Devil Takes You Home is nominated. I still can’t believe it. Earlier this morning I recorded my acceptance speech because as soon as I got the nomination I went “I’m going to the Shirley Jackson Awards!” and then my bank account said “Hah! You’re definitely not going, dude.” Anyway, I’m not complaining because the reason the bank account is hurting is because I went to New York City for the Edgars and then Pittsburgh for the Stokers, so it’s all good. Recording an acceptance speech for a thing you probably won’t win is weird, but…who knows? What if I win? Man, that’d be awesome…
SPEAKING OF AWESOME
Thank you to everyone who has signed up so far. It keeps me going. Also, I saw a weird couple of emails and then one about a payment and realized a few of you decided to actually pay for this thing! Damn, that means a lot. Thank you. Anyway, here’s some cool stuff I’m reading: Mr. Mercedes by Stephen King (read it years ago, but it’s for a thing now…), by Victor LaValle, I Hear You’re Rich by Diane Williams, and I just finished The Beast You Are by Paul Tremblay, which is his best collection yet.
Have a wonderful rest of your week. Be kind to each other. Stay awesome. Cheers.
I love the reflections on travel life. I tell my kids that once it gets in your blood, it stays there forever. There’s no place like home. And then, it’s time to hit the road again.
We’re all rooting for you, win that Shirley Jackson!