I came home, up 11 hours from Florida, with very few things. Among them, a handful of books: one Bulgakov, one Cărtărescu, and four Andrei Makine novels I hadn’t yet read. All of these are in Romanian translation, so I can’t pass any of them on to you, unless you speak the language.
It’s been a strange 12 months. Little by little, the weight that began to push down on the shoulders last May became heavier and heavier and heavier and then even heavier. And then someone or something began chipping the concrete away little by little. It’s how everything goes in the end.
I have published some new material in a handful of great online magazines, and I’ve listed some very old stuff (and some more old stuff) over at Fictionaut–mainly to try to stay in your cross hairs as I keep pushing on with trying to find a publisher for The Sun Eaters. You can find the new work linked at the top of the “What is Swine” page.
I’ve started to continue work on my second novel, which I had begun to write by hand at the end of February, but which I had to stop due to circumstances out of my reach.
My social network or online presence is at best minimal. Consequently, I’ve lost track of many people in the writing community. From time to time I return briefly (literally one or two minutes in a session) only to sadly be reminded that I have not missed much. I’m sorry if that insults you. But, including myself in this statement, there really isn’t anything too important going on in our daily lives. Not really. Not in the grand scheme of things–whichever that scheme may be.
The world goes out with neither a bang nor a whimper. For us, the world never goes out. It’s indifferent to all: births, deaths, pain, elation. We just merge in and out. The spaces in between those two are mostly insignificant. Oh, but we try hard to give it all meaning or import. And lately, we try hard to convince ourselves and others that they have value. Not really. Not really, really.
This may very well be a morose idea that will alienate many. So be it. It’s a truth…a version of it, anyway: my own.
Here’s one of the very few rock songs I listen to nowadays…from one of the very few rock bands I enjoy: