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A good day at the museum
The Blanton filmed me talking talking about the museum:
I love to copy paintings when I’m here, because drawing makes you slow down and actually look at the thing… We spend a lot of time looking at images. We’re on our phones, we’re scrolling… but there’s something about being in the presence of a real work of art that someone has made with their hands, that someone has sweated over. Seeing it in person and seeing it at scale… it is unbeatable. It’s infectious! It makes you want to go home and make stuff! I mean, a good day at the museum for me is a day that I get out of there and I think, “I really feel like going home and writing!” or “I really feel like going home and drawing!” There is a kind of mania that happens when you’re in an art museum. You start seeing everything around you as art. And that’s the greatest thing that art can do: help you see your everyday world in a new light.
I included the video in today’s newsletter about a good day in the museum, or how I like to look at art.
Name my new book truck
Some friends of the newsletter at Demco made my book truck dreams come true and shipped me this yellow beauty.
Inspired by the librarians at my local branch who give their book trucks names like “Shelvis Presley” and “Trolley Parton,” I’ve decided my new truck needs a name.
You can cast your vote in today’s newsletter.
Nothing from the outside will fill what’s missing on the inside
I was interviewing Franz Nicolay about his book, Band People, and at one point I asked him, “Where do you think ambition comes from?”
Before he could answer, I blurted out, “I think it comes from a big hole in you!”
We laughed. He didn’t disagree.
Here’s Tony Schwartz on the two lessons he learned from being Donald Trump’s ghostwriter:
The first lesson is that a lack of conscience can be a huge advantage when it comes to accruing power, attention and wealth in a society where most other human beings abide by a social contract. The second lesson is that nothing we get for ourselves from the outside world can ever adequately substitute for what we’re missing on the inside.
Casually, and anecdotally, this is what I’ve often observed in my (thankfully limited) experiences around famous or quasi-famous people.
First, it’s hard to tell in the “suck-cessful” what’s ambition or drive or hard work or whatever you want to call it and what’s sociopathy.
Second, fame never fixes anything for anybody.
Because nothing from the outside will fill what’s missing on the inside.
The October Country (a mixtape)
Here’s another mixtape I made from a sealed, pre-recorded cassette I got for 99 cents at the record store. I tape over the cassette’s protection tabs and then I tape over the music and then I tape over the artwork.
I’ve made so many mixtapes this year that I think I’m starting to crack what I really love in a good mix.
Vibe.
What I really love in a mix is a vibe rather than a theme.
This comes up a lot this time of year when people post their Halloween mixes. All the songs are about witches or demons or whatever, but they don’t really cohere musically.
(I make exceptions for Bob Dylan’s brilliant Theme Time Radio Hour, which ruled completely, and also had a Halloween episode. Also: a radio show is different than a mixtape — the DJ can add context, switch the mood, etc.)
Anyways, I named this mix after Ray Bradbury’s collection:
“October Country . . . that country where it is always turning late in the year. That country where the hills are fog and the rivers are mist; where noons go quickly, dusks and twilights linger, and mid-nights stay. That country composed in the main of cellars, sub-cellars, coal-bins, closets, attics, and pantries faced away from the sun. That country whose people are autumn people, thinking only autumn thoughts. Whose people passing at night on the empty walks sound like rain. . . .”
I wanted it to sound like what October sounds like to me — in feeling, if not in lyrics. (To be honest, I barely listen to lyrics most of the time, which might be surprising to hear from a writer, but I’ve been a musician a lot longer than I’ve been a writer?)
SIDE A
– Chris Isaak, “Wicked Game”
– Tom Waits, “Down in the Hole”
– Screamin’ Jay Hawkins, “Little Demon”
– Ty Segall, “Girlfriend”
– Leonard Cohen, “Waiting for the Miracle”
– Scott Walker, “On Your Own Again”
SIDE B
– Depeche Mode, “Enjoy the Silence”
– Fever Ray, “Shiver”
– Thee Oh Sees, “Ghosts in the Trees”
– Ravyn Lenae, “Sticky”
– Keith & Tex, “Run to the Rocks”
– Bjork, “The Anchor Song”
– Charles Simic, “We Were So Poor”
– Portishead, “The Rip”
Originally, I had a wizards vs. witches thing going with the sides, and I was going to do Bjork, Fever Ray, and Ravyn Lenae and more on side B, but, again, I throw out concept and theme for vibe when I do these things.
The Charles Simic poem was kind of an accident — I was just looking through Spotify at my “Liked” tracks and tried to find a short snippet to fit the rest of the tape. (On the actual cassette, I play a tiny little portion of “The Rip” to end the side, but I think it goes nicely as a full song at the end.)
You can listen to the mix on Spotify.
I’ve made 11 of these things so far this year! If you want, you can listen to a big 10-hour playlist of them all.
Filed under: mixtapes
Typewriter interview with Chase Jarvis
My latest typewriter interview is with Chase Jarvis, who has interviewed me many times over the years. You can read the whole thing here.
I guess this really is a series now? I’m sending out questions to a new batch of folks this week, so stay tuned. (You can read the others here.)
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