City of Legends

If you were sitting in my family room right now, watching me dance at the keyboard, you’d probably figure out pretty quickly that, despite the fact I am wearing my earbuds, I am listening to Morris Day and the Time performing Jungle Love.  The moves are obvious.

But I am not here to talk about my sublimely masterful footwork.  Nope.  I am just here to say good evening and lay out the schedule as I see it over the next few weeks or so.

I am postponing a final decision on the tracks for Evangelist for two weeks.  This will hem in the production schedule, but it’s my work so I get final say.

No new book until next Spring, if then (we all know how I suck at keeping those promises), tentatively entitled Return of the Ronin.  Of course, I like the title so much I might steal it for a CD.  We shall see.

I am going to spend next week in California.  It was supposed to be this early in the year or solo, but I have ample offers for company and I will not be bored.  I will not be reading in California.  Under my own name.  In any place you’d think to look for me.  Ha!

Thanks to the lovely lady in the poodle skirt for helping me get my head on straight, and I would be remiss if I did not credit the amazing Karla Sasser for her updates form the City Streets Music Festival in Birmingham for helping me keep balanced.

Please, be thinking of the people in Iowa, battling the floods, and those who will continue to be displaced and challenged by our own folly in neglecting the climate until practically too late.  The truth is the Hell on Earth we have manifested in foreign lands seems to be coming home to roost. 

I may be taking on a new crew of proteges.  More on this, perhaps, later.  I am tired and have a busy few days ahead of me.

The boys, with their mother’s help, gave me a nice Father’s Day dinner.

I have said before that my life, begun in Norman Rockwell middle-America, often seems to have been painted in adulthood by Salvador Dali.  Yesterday was one of those days.

• Readers of my Amomancer blog will find, sans explanation, a curious poem about  a beautiful woman practicing Yoga in a Poodle Skirt .  It is not my place to explain that one.
• The gentleman for whom I currently am producing proposals for has decided I work too hard and is forcing me, depending on the outcome of a meeting today, to take a vacation, at his expense, for a week, in Los Angeles (my favourite city on the planet).  He’s not taking "no" for an answer, or so it seems.
• A selection of people out of my past have suddenly cropped up on Facebook, wanting to be my friend.
• My full shipment of books and CDs for the tour arrived, all at once and are currently crowding me at my computer desk.

Taken one at a time, these might all be just little quirky things (okay, the poodle skirt thing is bizarre) but all together, they draw me out of mainstream reality into a world that Rod Serling should be narrating.  What next?  Am I going to grow a third arm?