ROSEMARY CLOONEY AND MY BEATNIK YOUTH

"Hey, there, you with the stars in your eyes...." Ah, Rosemary Clooney and my youth! My age is showing. All I can say is that I'm happily writing again. Busy on rewrite of a novel I now call The Reprogramming of Frank Singletary.

My poems have appeared in Adelaide. I think I already reported that. Still waiting for poem in Zero Dark Thirty. Covid-19 may be delaying getting that literary magazine out. They haven't notified me.

I am quite happy to be writing again. Fulfills me to no end. The other night, I was reading a short story by Hemingway, "Banal Story". It inspired me to start one just like it, only set in our times. However, I was tired, it was late, and I couldn't get very far along. By next morning, the feeling that inspired the story was gone. So. There it sits in a computer file, a couple of inspired paragraphs that may never see the darkness inside a closed literary magazine.

BOOMING ALONG, FISHING FOR REAL

Me and some cousins

Big breakthrough. I'm writing at home on my desktop computer. Rewriting a novel called The Porn Writer or Reprogramming Frank Singletary or who knows what? Happy to unblock. I hadn't thought of it as writer's block. I considered it an inconvenience created by the plague. I'm certainly much happier to be writing or rewriting at something. 

My newest short stories are being rejected by literary magazines, but two more rejections were very positive. One wrote, "We were very impressed with your work, but unfortunately will not be able to include it in [...] this year. We hope you'll consider submitting to us again in the future." I must must wait till September to try them again.The other wrote, "We'll be happy to consider any new work you care to submit in the future."

Nice to feel so close. Like they're swimming down there, tempted by my bait. I've put together a collection of stories too, but I need to bring those tales into line with latest revisions. Maybe the impact of all of them in a contest might get a publisher's interest. Who knows? Maybe try The Iowa Review contest. 

The photo? Yep, that's me, the tough guy, first born of cousins, on the top right. Top left, my cousin Edward. Both of us Navy vets, but he died of complications of alcoholism while I survived. He was a powerful personality. Booze life? It's so much fun until it isn't. I'm sad thinking of him.

THE SILENT BOOMER/ MORE POET THAN FICTION WRITER?

Coming home from drive on Rte 14

What can I say? Haven't made an entry here for ages. One reason is that I can't find this blog on my desktop computer, and Mertie is using my laptop for working at home. I am having more problems with technology than I can describe here. Smartphone is awful to deal with, and no one these days gives a damn about customer service. I carry around an image in my brain of smug young people sitting around laughing at my efforts to communicate.

A reason for not writing? No coffee shops to write in and no laptop, as I said. What I've been doing is driving around the beautiful Pacific Northwest. Driving around has always been a stress reliever for me. 

Some good news. Adelaide will be publishing four poems later this month. Still waiting for next issue of Zero Dark Thirty to come out with another poem recently accepted.  

Now out to drive around in the rain. I don't mind rainy driving. It has it's pleasures too. 

BEATNIKING IT ON THE ROAD

I'm still alive. You'd think I'd stay home and write my head off, but staying home feels like prison. No more coffee shops to write in. Have been getting out on the road and driving, listening to jazz, making videos. But, hit or miss, I have polished off two more short stories that I began months ago but set aside when they weren't going anywhere. So I'm happy enough, waiting for my poem to appear in Zero Dark Thirty.

Have weird feeling from time to time before I set out each day to drive or get a soy chai that no one is outside anymore, but, there they are at the Starbucks for "grab and go" service only. The Vancouver Mall is closed currently for at least two weeks. Some small businesses are really getting hurt. The potential for this Covid-19 is awful, but if too many people feel as I do—not very scared at all—then they'll be doing risky business for seniors like myself. What is only a cold for a young dancer in a bar is death for a guy at the supermarket. 

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PHILIP ROTH AND SILENT BEATNIK BOOMER ME

Nothing new to report except that some more short stories are appearing in my head out of the magical realm of the imagination. Still waiting for my copy of Zero Dark Thirty magazine with my lyric poem in it. It will be April, as I said, before I hear from Plainsongs about "one or more" of my poems there that have gone to the final readers. I got on the ball during the past weekend and sent out a short story and several groups of poems to various markets. 

Mertie and I are watching Sharp Objects an 8 episode limited series. I like those better than endless series that don't end till people get tired of the sameness of them. 

I'm trying to read Philip Roth's The Plot Against America.

Watched an interesting film Thoroughbreds last night, about two mentally ill young women. I liked it, but then, my taste is not the most popular taste. 

Can't believe it's been three weeks since last entry. 

WHEN HEMINGWAY WAS A BEATNIK

More semi-success with poetry. The respected journal Plainsongs has forwarded "one or more" of my  poems from my cancer ms to final judges. I won't know final results until April.

Not much else to report except that I'm currently reading Hemingway's A Moveable Feast with great interest. I find my approach to short stories somewhat match his approach as it existed when he was a youth in Paris. 

Very shortly I will have reworked all my most recent short tales and built a ms for entering into contests. Maybe about 250 pages of fiction there. Still, no one has bitten on one of them to place in a journal. One story is still at the magazine that asked me specifically to send another piece of fiction.

BEATNIK FINDS MOM IN JUDY

Got another poem accepted for publication in near future in O-Dark-Thirty. I don't know exactly when the issue will come out. Payment is a copy of the journal. I sent three poems and they took one of them—Rice Harvest. The poem they took is extremely subtle and musical too. I had given up on getting it published until I saw their call for poetry from veterans. The poem is about Vietnam, and the death of young men in rice fields. Short stories still going out and coming back.

Still laboring—very slowly—on the short story ms, rewriting each tale one last time. Far too many days, dizziness plagues my sensibility. Today—head clear—I'll get some work done as soon as I publish this post.

Recent viewing: Once Upon A Time In Hollywood and Judy. Both worth a look if you've a mind to. Judy reminds me of my mother's dramatic ways.