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230 pages, Hardcover
Published November 21, 2017
Every night I look
From star to star
Three thousand miles through these empty bars
And I end up sleeping
Out in my car
And the moon shines off my beautiful scars
– Blackie And The Rodeo Kings
We survive, and with those skills, and in that survival, we create art.
The most unthinkable stories she would save for supper time. She couldn't help herself. Tales of train wrecks, body parts, mob hits, Hiroshima, Kennedy's day in Dallas, priests and altar boys, shotgun suicides – all got thrown out across my plate of meatloaf and boiled potatoes, the bloody condiment to otherwise boring meals.
For an hour at a time I'd talk to green writers and artists about surviving in a world that does not need what they have to offer. It was an easy hour to kill. My entire life I'd been struggling to maintain my self-respect while doing whatever it was I wanted to do creatively, dodging depression and criticism and resisting the urge to find a closet to hang myself in...I'd start my lecture with a simple line, “If you don't have to do this, don't. If you don't have the burning desire to wake up and create something, if your life does not depend on it, then please stop. You'll end up wasting your time and the time of anyone who crosses paths with your creation.” I would look back into the eyes of my audience and see them thinking, “I can't believe I spent all this money to get lectured to by a guy who looks like he sleeps in his car.”