I had a good Father's Day.
Balder
called this afternoon.
Dread Clampitt made the finals in the band contest
at Telluride. Four bands left.
They were worried about a trio. The other
two groups weren't as good.
The other two groups finished 1 and 2 and Dread
Clampitt and the trio finished 3 and 4.
Balder was philosophical. They did
their best. People told them afterwards they thought they were better than the winners.
They kept their underdog standing.
They got a gig tonight at the hottest
juke joint in Telluride.
They made some new fans, got some new exposure.
Jennifer was with Balder, and wished me a happy Father's Day.
She said she
was proud of the boys.
I'm glad she got to go out there and hear them.
* * *
Jeannie called from up in Alabama. She and Ella left Suzette's and drove
north last night. So I heard from Owen and Balder, Jean and Jennifer, and Ella Blue.
For supper, I took the leftover tomato, cucumber, and Vidalia onion salad, added
sliced avocado and boiled shrimp, added a tough of spicy mustard, and called it shrimp
remoulade.
It was delicious.
* * *
This afternoon, I watched a panel on BookTV, from the BEA, in which
Lorin Stein said, "if we might not have endless careers, at least we can publish
books we'll be proud to have published when we're old and fired."
I
am old and fired. My career of not being able to sell a word I write only seems
endless.
I'm proud to keep writing in the face of such relentless opposition.
Corporate publishing is trying to discourage me. That's all. To wash me away. Grind
me down.
And it ain't working.