To honor the final year of my thirties as well as the recent publication of my constraint-based Faulkner-inspired memoir, AS I STAND LIVING, which chronicles the year I became a father, I’m going to document my various sources of media input each week: art, literature, music, movies, television, and so on. New updates every Monday until I turn forty (March 19, 2018).
Drawings by Courtney M. Privett
Moon Gas (1963) by Dick Hyman & Mary Mayo sort of sounds like a lost soundtrack to a never released passion project by Dario Argento. So, creepy. But also spacey. Sound effects. Ghostly howls. Eerie organs. Abstract poetry. Island sounds. Crowds in beige sport jackets and yellow cravats smoking pipes filled with flower scented tobacco. People haunted. Does it become an opera? Was it an opera the whole time? A space opera?
“If one thinks about drag as the practice of performing gender, sexuality, or other fixed societal roles, then in a way, we’re all doing drag, all of the time. So long as it deconstructs identity categories, it’s still drag,” writes Amelia Abraham in this new Artsy editorial called “A Brief History of Drag in the Art World.”
Dancing with the Stars didn’t compel my emotions in the same way it did last week. The tens went a little wonky, if you ask me. I’m still rooting for David Ross.
The way Tangarine Dream’s song “3 A.M. at the Border of the Marsh From Okefenokee” (1976) mashes minimalism with a harmonica and space sounds. Tension builds and builds. Feels for a few moments like a game show.
“Don’t cry for money; it never cries for you,” says Mr. Wonderful on season seven episode two of Shark Tank. Binging on Shark Tank big time. Very interested in the way the prospective businesses create narrative, and the way the narrative form seems to have been codified: a formula for presentations seems apparent.
Paintings, photo-realist, Shae DeTar: