And the Living is Easy

We’re staying at a pied-à-terre in Santa Monica while Scott finishes his final weeks of rehearsal. Pastel sunsets and salty air. The kids have taken over the giant bean bag in the center of the living room, which I think is meant to be a coffee table but is now a dog bed. They are pictured above with their snazzy summer haircuts.

We leave for Japan on September 8th, where Weezer will rock (and I will shop) Nagoya, Fukuoka, Tokyo and Osaka. The epic US tour begins September 23rd in Boston. Check out for the tour dates. Tug my sleeve if we drift your way.

Meanwhile, I am hard at work on the memoir and planning to write on the road. Tour is a floaty thing. I’m going to have to hitch my brain to an anchor somehow.

I finished Tree of Smoke a few days ago. It took me about as long as the Vietnam war itself to finish it. But- Denis Johnson, you bastard, you really are transcendent. We are unforgivable. And we are forgiven.

House of Horrors

House of Horrors
Scott says the true sounds of horror can be heard coming from our kitchen when I try to cook (as opposed to the lame sound effects we blast from our porch at Halloween). But for genuine thumb-in-a-vice screams, hang out by our back door when I have to empty out every cabinet and scrub the whole kitchen down with bleach in response to our periodic, supernaturally instigated moth infestations. See above picture for my attitude and for the contents of our cabinets piled on the dining room table.

Other sounds of horror could be heard last weekend after this Jewish gal made an attempt to go to church. I’m attempting to find some kind of touchy/feely/lovey/tambouriney/non-denominational-y/culturallydiverse-y kind of place that we can take our almost-here baby. I loved temple when I was a kid. God was my buddy. I want our baby to have that. But why does every religious institution I go to now seem like a combination of tithing worthy of medieval Christianity and a seminar on the power of positive thinking? I have not given up hope.

On the other hand, cries of transcendent bliss could be heard when I finally got a rad book deal this week after about ten years of waiting. The hows and whos of it are still my secret, so there.

Suggestions for others seeking same: go see Wiccan beauty Lorna Firman at Cauldron in Silverlake and do whatever she tells you, especially if it involves offerings to Norse deities.