All this hipster revisionism and still I know the Gospel truth: there are the True freaks and there are Posers ; and inside of you there are two wolves (playing stomp-clap music)
I'm kind of certain I overheard an attempt to sell drugs in the computer lab of a Kentucky public library in 2019. This story sprang to life as I considered who might be desperate enough to sell meth out of a suitcase. Now I'm grateful "Misty" has finally found an online home.
@crownweber I am a dedicated reader of your work, and glad you have chosen to live in Kentucky. NYC is Disneyland. I found it jarring when the editor told me to pop by. I had a child, and a job, and didn’t live in the city, incongruous with a Polite Society debut. I will stop pestering you!
@crownweber In 1978, age 17, I drove from Ohio to NYC, rent $75 per month at 1st St & First Ave, typed my way through night school, much later met the editor at Columbia Grad School of The Arts. I completed the awful MFA in Los Angeles, thanks to a Readership from the Huntington Library.
Meanwhile, my mother was like the local county AOC/Squad leader of the day. she built the first abortion clinic in our rural conservative county, then here she took over a massively funded county system in order to stop them from spending money on golf courses, and directed that they purchase all these nature preserves... She was also my best friend and took me everywhere as a child when she was trying to radicalize the county… I vividly recall this interview she gave… She actually was much better than my father at mesmerizing people with her bullshit… All the quotes of this she just made up… People thought she was like this deep thinker, but, she just made things up from thin air. She was kind of brilliant...
I love the fact that when my dad took his "job" as drama critique of the Kenyon College newspaper at age 17, he actually chose as his byline "Al "Drink Two Beers Act Like Shakespeare" Wright." I couldn't be prouder to call this man my father....
@crownweber A former New Yorker editor invited me to her office: “Your 11 page poem is too long for a debut; pop by with a few shorter pieces.” Pop by! I brought scads. She liked only the poem too long for a debut. Continuing the torture, she invited me to join her and her dog at gatherings.
I wrote a play called FREE MUSIC.
It's about how easy it is to listen to music these days without paying a dime.
A bold new play about youth, music, access, value, and humanity’s uncanny tendency to say “I’ll just stream it.”
Opening next month.