Saturday, March 23, 2019

If you are in possession of The Weightless Machine please be advised that all former models—machines spanning the years 2015-2018—have been recalled. Please do not climb inside those machines. We repeat: ***Do not get inside The Weightless Machine.*** Thank you for your feedback; please use that pile to kindle a fire or sop a flood. After many months of renewed 4 a.m. experiment, we believe we have optimized the experience. We believe this The Weightless Machine that works. The novel in the novel in the novel. In any event, it is all it can be, anachronism or hulk or  flame-out or silence comedy.

As it turns out, I needed my daughter to figure missing calculations. She utilized something she calls Vertigo's Cure. I don't know. 22nd Century New Philosophy, she says. Weird. Probably a lie. But it cured! I woke to the ghost writing, laughing, crying. Floating. If you're a publisher or a producer, my daughter asks what the frig you're waiting for? Some kind of mechanical goddang third eye? Not going to happen until it's too late, friend. Squeegee what you got. Me, she's ordered to move along, please, finish the new thing, any frigging thing but. And I agree.

"If I talked I would become like any other comedian." —Charly Champlin

Wednesday, March 13, 2019

"They all talked at once, their voices insistent and contradictory and impatient, making of unreality a possibility, then a probability, then an incontrovertible fact, as people will when their desires become words."

The Sound and the Fury


This was one of the epigraphs to my new novel but it's an epigraph to every worthwhile novel.

Sunday, March 10, 2019

Ravaging Bakhtin, revising The Beast. Ready the contracts, sanitize (please) the gold pen.

(I'm in a lot of trouble.)