Hey, it’s Monday. It’s still fucking September and Monday night fucking football is on. Football is back, and the Chicago Bears won their first game, and are undoubtedly heading to the goddamned Super Bowl.
I’m gonna be right honest with you, some weeks in life are like jogging on a treadmill hoping to win a marathon no one knows you’re running in. Some weeks my biggest adventure is a long walk to nowhere just to stretch the legs and clear the head.
Continuing to get my ass kicked regularly by my chronic IBS, which is both chronic and persistent. This week’s adventures of life involve giving up gluten. Yay! So much for bread, cake, cookies, pizza (which I’d already given up,) no pasta, pie or cereal. I would ask for sympathy, but later this night owl plans to make steak and fried eggs for dinner. Yes, I almost always eat dinner around 11 or 12 at night, and it’s usually my only meal of the day, and down at the local owned, and only grocery store in the town next over, they got these little five ounce “sizzling steaks” three in a pack for $6. So, I guess I have to resort to living on steak and farm fresh laid fried eggs. I have, indeed, had it worse. If only I could get my lower intestinal area to declare peace in its civil war, I’d almost think I was living the dream.
For real though, as the kids used to say, there ain’t a lot of money in the just get by life I’m living, but consider: I have a fun part time gig selling weed. I’m a widely published and somewhat celebrated writer. I’m loved. I have food, water, books, music, and get to hang out with farm animals far more than people, and the few humans I spend time with regularly are the best kinds of people. Creative, big hearted, kind, supportive, cool and interesting types. Outside of 30 hours of work a week, I largely do whatever I want, and despite the forever bipolar roller coaster I ride on, some arthritic pains, some writer things falling through this year, and that-there sometimes crippling IBS… despite that, this is by far the happiest days of my life.
Photo by my girlfriend Jess. I had the best friend seat to a stunning sunset the other day
And it’s fucking September. Virgo season, if you’re into that kind of thing. And even if you’re not, I am a Virgo, and that explains it, so I’m told.
Hey, I’m getting some tour dates firmed up. Fuck, man, I’m so excited. Plan is to release a full tour schedule on Friday 9/20, because Fridays are my favorite. Stay tuned. But expect me in Toledo 9/22. Nashville 10/26. Kansas City 11/3.
If you got a few dollars to spare this month, I’m doing a drawing to help scrape up all the gas money and small camp fee funds I’ll need for my fall tour. Entries are $5 a piece. Prizes are cool and unique. Everybody wins in the end either way. And I’m so goddamned stunned to tell you that there’s already 20 entries.
Get yours by following the photos. And consider, September is my birthday month, and the last time I asked for anything for my birthday was to get volunteers together to clean up a park in Toledo dedicated to the 1934 autolite strike.
Man. Toledo. Sunday September 22nd we’re celebrating the end of Virgo season with a Punk and Poetry night at the Switchboard downtown. Two bands. Two poets. I’m one of the poets. Come kick it. You’re going to want to be at this one. And although we have had similar events at Holland Haus over the years, this is the first dedicated punk and poetry night in Toledo that I’ve ever heard of. Maybe the first in Toledo’s storied history. Who knows?
Hey hey. My favorite part of this fucked up newsletter, where the only thing that is ever microdosed is me the author, comrades, let me tell you about the books I’ve loved over the last week.
I’ve been milking the Carver and Vonnegut books. You ever start a book that’s so sweet, and happy feeling that you just read a little of it everyday to stretch out the happy? No? Keep looking. You’ll find those books for you, too. Start at the library. Or with these two delicious books that were both coincidentally published just posthumously of their legendary authors deaths. Interesting coincidence, if you believe in those things. The books (Carver’s A New Path To The Waterfall and Vonnegut’s Armageddon in Retrospect) are both brilliant, tender, and rubberneck pretty. Oh, man. They’ve inspired some good new poems and stories from me the past few weeks. It’s like a poor man’s master class in writing and it didn’t cost me $699 on the internet. I always wonder if master class attendees have ever considered an afternoon at their public library. There’s a goddamned master class on damn near every shelf. They call those shelves stacks at the library, and they’ll let you choose your own adventure from those stacks for free my comrades. For fucking free. It’s the one true free thing in America. Trust me. I’ve friends and acquaintances that live in Slab City, and even that last legendary beacon of desert freedom costs something.
Fuck, that was a long paragraph. I’ve also spent a lot of reading time dabbling in different poetry anthologies. I do read poetry every morning of my life as if it were the gospel, and I laugh at those that think it isn’t. Particularly of late I’ve found my nose in the collection of love poems I found for a buck, The Outlaw Bible of American poetry, and other miscellaneous flash.
Between the poetry and these Carver and Vonnegut books, it’s been some of the best real happy reading trails. Hope you’re saddling up and finding your own book adventures, too, comrades. Read anything good lately? Always feel free to share the good things with me.
And this isn’t reading kinda but it’s art and poetry. Over the past few months I’ve had the honor of trading books and poems with the legendary outlaw writer, Ron Whitehead. Ron is of course the international Beat Poet Laureate, Lifetime Emeritus. Ron has written and created both well, and prolifically, and he traded a generous stacks of books and CDs, and I’ve been loving this CD he sent. The album features former Kentucky poet laureate and documentarian Lee Pennington reading his poems with beautiful backing music. Whitehead opens and closes the album. If you’ve never heard Lee Pennington read his poem ‘Bloody Harlan’ you should go look this album up. It’s on iTunes, Spotify and everywhere else. Yeah, man. They make poetry albums. It’s a thing.
And, just as I switch now to watching a recorded rerun of the Ohio State football game from last Saturday, the 49’ers having throttled Aaron Rodgers and the Jets, and I’m about to light up a home rolled joint, it’s time for my second favorite newsletter corner, just what the hell are you smoking? Where I show my appreciation for life saving marijuana legalization.
There was a bogo special at a dispo on Goldkine. I’ve mentioned Goldkine before. They’re a cannabis grower and production company in Warren, MI, the same Detroit suburb that builds the famed Ram Trucks. Anyway, smoked an eighth of the Terpee Slurpee, and would definitely do so again. The buds were the buttery kind where they pile up big and fluffy when you grind them. A 28.4% indica leaning hybrid strain that’s recommended for the heavy seasoned stoner seeking relief of pain, anxiety and restlessness. Good stuff. And Goldkine is the first grower I’ve seen yet that provides a rolling tray, and the jars make great upcycle art project material. Goldkine. Smoke em if you find em.
And I’ve talked to you about bubble hash infused joints in prior weeks, but when my buddy, the artist A.S. Coomer visited a few weeks back, me, him, my girlfriend Jess, we all matched fancy firecracker weed and joints all weekend like good stoner friends do, and Coomer got these Wojo Stingerz, bubble hash infused pre rolls.
There are some trusted stoners that swear Wojo is the ultimate in hash and concentrates. A small, craft cannabis company in northern Michigan, their products are amongst the most expensive, and highly sought after. Coomer had a first time customer discount at the Michigan weed store we visited, and comrades, I will only lie to you if I think I’m in grave trouble, I was so fucking high that whole visit, I can’t stand on two legs and tell you how strong they were, but these single sourced joints were amongst the smoothest, eyes drying-eat I may have ever set a torch to. If you can find the Wojo on sale, buy them.
Enough farting around. Hell, it’s not even Monday anymore. It’s 12:30am on Tuesday now. But it’s still fucking September. Virgo season. My favorite month.
Hey, we’re supposed to wrap this up every week with some positive, kind vibrations. Easy peezy lemon creamy this week. No sweat jet, the power of the hour is gratitude. Maybe because I’m closing in on another year older or some shit, but fuck, I’ve been so warm hearted with gratitude of late. It’s hard to feel like anything is a struggle when you’re grateful.
Love,
Dan
Happy early birthday since I’m off FB and can’t remember shit without reminders. Bears are totally going to the SB, that’s not a premature prediction at all. Can’t wait to see you at the wedding next month!
I like the sunset photo with you at the tree. You know, if you've never been there, there's a neat place about 6 miles west of Pioneer, Ohio. The land goes from flat to rolling hills and leads to the La Su An Wildlife area where there are several picturesque lakes and ponds where I've done a lot of fishing in the past. A really beautiful area. You take Rt. 20 and turn right into Pioneer. At the main traffic light you turn left onto 1st Street which becomes CR-R outside of town. Then just drive straight until you get to the lake and pond area. Very pastoral and peaceful area with a few big hills. Wishing you an early Happy Birthday and I will try to make it to The Switchboard event.