Roots Music
POTLICKER JOURNAL. 57,000 words, 229 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’m going to occupy it. 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.
SEASIDE BLOG.
In progress. 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?
card.jpg
Oh, shit. I have
given myself a web site, The Daily Bugle. Minor chord.
Fate motive in Faust.
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