City of Legends

Bad neck ache from sloppy posture during the Amomancer cleanup. But it was worth it. There are still a few small things to work out, including the possibility of going back and tagging every poem on the blog that has appeared in a book of mine with the name of the book. Whaddaya think?

I am offering Barbara Holmes to opportunity to preview the titular track from Evangelist before the interview. If she wants to listen to it, she would be only the second person aside from myself, to have heard it. I have already shared it with fellow blogger and writer Susan Sonnen, out of deference to her quick response to the previous tracks.

I have a much larger organizational task ahead of me regarding the tags on this blog. Whereas Amomancer had almost six hundred entries, this blog has almost four times as many. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. I have considered bringing on a new E.J., but I am finding my emotional, visceral reaction to people who want to help me on a level with James Caan’s reaction at the end of Misery when a young woman describes herself as his biggest fan. I daily battle a jading stain, and it is difficult for me to admit that. Combine that with my after-effects of my illness (I am being lobbied to cancel the tour) and the only thing that is keeping me from a psychic meltdown of Tunguska proportions is some cunning cross-wiring that keeps me writing. I am keeping busy for the same reason a man who just lost his job climbs into a bottle and stays there, it is holding back the hordes of internal Hell.

And my demons can lick your demons any day of the week. In fact, they;d like to. Hmmm, maybe that’s what I need.

But while I vacillate between screaming madness, blood-curdling stomach cramps and dichotomous satyriasis, I write, slowly bleeding off some of the pressure…if the walls hold long enough…we’ll at least get some good poetry out of it.