Sunday 3/2/25
Downloaded the audio of the four and a half hour interview John Lennon gave on December 8, 1970. December 8 was a big day--at least three times--for Lennon: In 1960, 1970, and 1980.
Ran five circuits of stairs in the Monument on Friday and 3000 stairs at City Hall yesterday instead of stairs in the Monument because I was supposed to go to the Brattle for a screening of It Happened One Night and then a performance of fourteenth century polyphony but something came up and threw all else off.
Listened to Duke Ellington's "Ko-Ko" a bunch today. Damn that is an exciting piece of music.
Downloaded the Grateful Dead's 5/1/70 show at tiny Alfred College. Killer acoustic set. The harmonies on that "Cold Jordan" are outstanding. The Dead and Elvis doing gospel songs are two of my all-time favorite things.
Ponder: The impact of Pentangle on the Grateful Dead.
Also listened to a couple of interviews with Gene Hackman. Beautiful man. Smart, articulate. One of the interviews was about the car chase in The French Connection, the other pertaining to when his father abandoned him at thirteen. His dad drove past him playing with his friends, and gave him a wave goodbye. Hackman--who was still visibly affected by this-- actually had a funny line that made everyone in the audience laugh. Not something a person ever gets over.
I believe I may have come up with the title for my book of writings about horror films. Did so whilst sitting in a cafe after above plans came undone.
Took down the subscription "light box" that popped up each time one visited the main page of the site because it was making no difference and it annoyed me having to click out of it every time I went to check something.
Today marks 3157 days, or 451 weeks, without a drink.
Social media makes it plain how just about everyone thinks they're funny and virtually no one is.
I've been thinking about Oscar Wilde's The Happy Prince and Other Tales and how I can do something better along the same idea. Short book. For kids. But also for adults. A book to be read together and for sharing with someone one loves. A book of growing up for everyone. We should always be growing up no matter what our age is. Made a few notes came up with a possible title should any of this ever be pertinent.
Downloaded a Folkways album of Brendan Behan discussing James Joyce. I've had that line from the Pogues' "Thousands Are Sailing"--which was written by Phil Chevron--in my head the last couple days: "And in Brendan Behan's footsteps I danced up and down the street."
Shane MacGowan hated that part of the lyric--he said Behan would never dance up and down the street, so he scuffed it up when he sang it so that it'd be more Behan-esque.
I just wrapped up eight hours of working on "Comes a Day, Comes a Man." We are about done now. Towering. There is no point in pretending otherwise. I'll leave it sit for the rest of today and return with fresh eyes tomorrow. One of the many things this journal is for is documentation. Like the documentation of how this story was written. How was it written? Where did it come from? I see that all of the time with writers. Then you get some drawn out narrative about who and what gave them--they basically took it from somewhere else--the bad story they wrote.
This is where this story came from: Nowhere. And from nothing. I was sitting there last week, I didn't feel great, so I decided to write a story. None of it existed five second prior to that moment. There was no idea for it. I just decided to make up a story. None of it had ever entered my head. It originated from a decision.
I put that here because people will see the story eventually and then they'll see this and they'll wonder how the hell that's possible. But it's exactly what happened.
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