A place in my mind where I have all the time in the world to think and write about the things I want to, without interruption. I’m also going to the wonderful Woodstock Writer’s Festival in early April. To be with my tribe.
The Goldfinch. I might be the only other man I know on the planet who is reading this book. It comes with a lot of hype. Maybe too much. I’m on page 567 right now. I’m all in. I’ll reserve judgment until I’m done. I loved Donna Tartt’s first novel, The Secret History. I haven’t read her second, The Little Friend, even though I have a signed copy, obtained when I met her at a book show in Chicago almost ten years ago. I remember her haircut, still the same after all these years, and making her smile.
To the new Beck album, Morning Phase, out today. Billed as a “sequel” to his “masterpiece” Sea Change, it sounds more like a long-lost friend rather than a coda. We have to be careful where, when, and how we listen to a new piece of music for the first time. I listened to the first four songs of Morning Phase after dropping my daughter off at school, and while driving to work, crossing the frozen New Meadows River with the pink sun blazing the ice. But now I’m at work, in my concrete bunker, and it’s not the time to keep going. With its echoes of Rumors-era, sunny California seventies soft-rock, this album doesn’t belong in a basement. It belongs in a car, on an open road, on the way to the beach. Or from, at sunset. I’ll save the rest for later.
Syracuse University basketball games. My daughter is quickly becoming a rabid fan. Speaking as a lifelong Orange supporter, I warned her she’s in for a lot of heartbreak. Wearing her newly-minted Ice Man t-shirt, she seems OK with that.
As much Chobani yogurt as I can stuff into my fat face. As a born-again vegetarian, I need my protein. My favorite is the plain, drizzled with some fresh Maine honey. Take that, Putin.
Red Rose English Breakfast tea, out of my new $8 Plain White Pottery Barn cup-and-saucer set I bought at the mall. I’m one-quarter English on my dad’s side, and smitten with Downton Abbey. I may start walking with a cane, like Mr. Bates, just for fun.
My standard all-black livery: black pants, black socks, black shoes, black crew-neck sweater, with a touch of color at the neck and wrists. Almost everything was bought at Brooks Brothers at a deep discount. As Morrissey sang, I wear black on the outside because black is how I feel on the inside. Plus it’s slimming.
How about you? What are you up to right now?