Florida Writer


 

ROOTS MUSIC.  83,000 words.  320 pictures.  I write ten pamphlets about my career in the small press scene, mail art, zines, ezines, the online journal (OLJ) and the weblog (blog) and send them out to my coterie of steadfast readers, the Buzzard Cult, named after the Southeastern Ceremonial Complex, a revitalization movement that swept the Lower Mississippi Valley just before and after European contact.  I studied cargo cults in college.  And I dug at Lake Jackson, a Buzzard Cult temple mound with a copper breastplate of the long-nose god, who might have been a female warrior.  Some feminist scholars think so.  Then I make a side trip to Sneads, Florida, where Potterfest is held, comparing hot sauces and pepper vinegars.  Eating oysters.  Saying shit and making biscuits.  Hoecake and tomato gravy.  The Cracker Table.  All genius is local.  2011 was a productive year for me.  I wrote and sent out 40 pamphlets.  I posted even more than that at my web site, The Daily Bulletin.  I think 2012 is going to be my year.  I can’t do anything about New York or Hollywood but I can fill my year with daily typewriting.  Will I cross over from the underground to the mainstream?  Will POTLICKER JOURNAL be the book that does it?  That’s the drama of it.  The drama of it.  A lot of repetition.  I’m not a dog returning to his vomit I’m a cobbler sticking to his last.  I start writing SNEAKING PAST THE GATEKEEPER.  I have snuck past the gatekeeper.  I am doing it.  What’s to stop me if I don’t snooker myself?  I change the name of SNEAKING PAST THE GATEKEEPER to SEASIDE BLOG.  I see that POTLICKER JOURNAL and SEASIDE BLOG form a pair of books, Roots Music.  I am tracing my roots.  How did I get here?  What does it mean?  Am I a Florida writer?  Am I a Wewahitchka, Florida writer?  Am I a vernacular writer?  Oh, shit.  I have given myself a web site, The Daily Bugle.  Minor chord.  Fate motive in Faust.  I make a 16-page pamphlet called Roots Music and send it to an agent as a writing sample.  I see that Hardhat Snood is a pamphlet.  I make copies to send out.  I expose myself as a racist.  Well, I’m clad in the hardhat of righteousness.  I don’t think I’m a racist.  As Tom Mott says at the end of Cracker Jack, we need more discussion about this, not less.  We need to talk about it openly, not guardedly.  I apply for a Summer 2012 fellowship at the Mailer Writers Colony and submit a 40-page writing sample.  I make up a pamphlet, Writing Sample.  I can send the pamphlet out with query letters for Roots Music.  My book is like a web log.  A story, a poem, an interview with myself.  A book or record or movie review, an art exhibit, a concert, or a play.  A list.  Lists.  Does it end?  No, it just stops.  Charles Willeford concludes New Forms of Ugly, “For the moment, man writing about man writing thwarts Armageddon, and there are enough highly literate readers in the world for the immobilized hero novel to exist as a sub-literary force in the corpus of modern literature.  Will any immobilized hero ever find his way through the labyrinth of his mind to his perfect, absolute Zero?  His white leviathan?  One does not think so.”  I think I did it.  With Roots Music:  Immobilized in Parker, Florida.  It takes taut strings to make music.  I am humming like a tuning fork.  I resonate.  I set up and hum.  I have found my resonant frequency.  Ha ha, too high of a pitch.  Dogs can’t hear it.  I am talking to myself.  Raving like a madman.  Send you to Chattahoochee.  Jim Woodruff Dam.  The woods are full of wardens.  A potlicker is a cur dog too sorry to hunt.  Roots music, folk art, vernacular writing, independent film.  Do it yo’self (DIY).

 

MY PULP GHETTO IDEAL.  62,000 words.  201 pictures.  MY PULP-GHETTO IDEAL is a book that tells how I was able to create a body of work, my stack, invent a form to present it in, daily typewriting, and find a medium to get it out to my coterie of steadfast readers, the Buzzard Cult, through, self-published pamphlets and a web site on the worldwide web.  Daily typewriting is a mélange of poems, short fiction, and essays (book reviews, movie reviews, CD reviews, reviews of art exhibits, live concerts, and plays), plus literary theory, about What Is the Immobilized Hero Novel, Who Is the Immobilized Hero Novel Writer, What Does He Think He Is Up To?  An ape can brachiate faster than a forest can recede.  I’m not immobilized, I just don’t like to leave my writing room, in case the writing come and I not be there to receive it.  Charles Willeford wrote about the immobilized hero novel in New Forms of Ugly:  The Immobilized Hero in Modern Fiction.  He said his aim was to popularize the term.  To get literary critics to use it.  But I think his real goal was to encourage other writers to write immobilized hero novels.  To carry on the tradition.  I have met the challenge.  Stood the test.  I stood up to the plate.  I took my turn at bat.  I wanted to see how I, a hopeless amateur, would do against major league pitching.  Seedy and stove-up as I am.  An old bitch, gone in the teeth.  A botched civilization.  Civilization is botched.  So what?  It’s all we have.  It’s the given.  Les donnés.  Marcel Duchamp called his last construction Étant donnés.  What will you do with this, sports fans?  That’s the drama of it.  MY PULP-GHETTO IDEAL summarizes what I did.  I wrote for 40 years without selling a word to New York or Hollywood.  I went to school, I worked, I got married, I was retired.  I went on a Sunset Cruise.  A Farewell Tour.  In my head.  While looking for, or working at, a job, the kind of job an old flat-affect reject can get in a recession, if I get one.  Or sells a book.  Maybe I’ll sell a book.  Maybe I’ll sell MY PULP-GHETTO IDEAL before I seize up and collapse into my computer monitor, which I call Macy’s Window.  The last section of MY PULP-GHETTO IDEAL (before I took the ordered headings out and just numbered the entries in sequence) was called Florida Writer.  It was about Zora Neale Hurston’s final decade as a writer, when she couldn’t find a publisher for Herod the Great.  I define a Florida writer as one not included in the year-end round-ups of “Who is the Florida writer?  What is the Florida Novel?”, not invited to the seminar in Key West.  I define the Florida novel as a book about that that feels like.  I combine ROOTS MUSIC and MY PULP-GHETTO IDEAL and call them Florida Novel.

 

THE THOUSAND-YARD STARE AT THE MIDDLE CLASS JOB FAIR:  OR, REFLECTIONS ON THE DECADE BETWEEN 62 AND 72.  60,000 words.  250 pictures.  I begin writing An American Original.  I change the name to Scufflin’:  An Autobiography of Jack Saunders.  Then I change the subtitle to On the Necessity of Vocational Disobedience.  It’s a writer’s duty to attack the warheads.  I change the name a couple of more times.  I don’t remember.  I know it’s an account of my four stages as a writer, with an emphasis on my last decade, from 2002 to 2012, The Post-Masterpiece Novel.  I end up calling the book THE THOUSAND-YARD STARE AT THE MIDDLE CLASS JOB FAIR:  REFLECTIONS ON THE DECADE BETWEEN 62 AND 72.  Four-word pitch.  Thoreau meets Lenny Bruce.  I simplified my life and all I got was a Dread Clampitt T-shirt.  Well, 445 books.  But am I finished…?

 


 

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