If I knew how to play an instrument with any proficiency, I would start a Grand Funk Railroad tribute band. I don’t know why, other than the fact that there are too many Kiss tribute bands, and it seemed like a logical next step for me.

If you’ve ever suffered from heatstroke, please email me so I can figure out if I need medical attention or not. Actually, I’m not too bad today, but I’ve been pretty fucked up all weekend from the heat. I know that everywhere in the world it’s a cliche joke to mention how hot or cold it is, and then support the statement with a bunch of wild exaggerations about frying eggs on the sidewalk or whatever. I’ll spare this to be perfectly clear. Luckily I spent the whole day today on my ass, with a fan pointed right at me and drinking tons of water.

I spent all day Friday exploiting the MTA one-day unlimited ride pass, trying to find various bookstores and Beat landmarks like Chumley’s (MIA) and the White Horse (there, but somewhat yuppified.) There’s no story to tell except that I managed to leave the house and blow the whole day, most of it in air-conditioned subway cars. I brought a notebook and wrote, but this wasn’t a work day. It was a day of exploration and sort of a test to see how well I could find disparate points on a map of Manhattan and navigate between them with the subway. So, I did okay.

Marie’s birthday was Saturday, and we went out for dinner on Friday, to some place I don’t remember. I do remember we ate on a nice patio, and I ordered some pretty incredible bluefish. We also walked to Incommunicado Press a new publisher Michael mentioned that’s on the lower east side. If you’re into new and out there fiction, you should check out their site. We left with an armful of books.

I spent all day Saturday at Coney Island, my first time. It’s hard to describe without getting all stupid, but it was everything I expected: lots of people, lots of rides, lots of food. I liked everything, but suffered from some tremendous heat problems that completely fucked with my head on and off. Despite that, we rode the Cyclone, the log flume, a couple of the throw-you-around-in-a-little-car-until-you-puke rides, and the big car that crawls up a tower and gives you a panaromic view of the whole beach.

We also went on the boardwalk, and saw the ocean. It was actually the first time I’d seen the Atlantic, so we went up to the water and got our feet wet. It reminded me of the first time I really saw the Pacific a few years ago, in Oregon. Beaches in general remind me of Lake Michigan and the Michigan dunes, where my dad used to take us when we were kids. There were a lot of small lakes in Edwardsburg, but Lake Michigan was the first huge, nothing-on-the-horizon lake where we used to swim.

Dammit, I had this huge thought I needed to convey, and then I started reading something else for like an hour. You’re going to have to figure the rest of this out.

There are days when nothing happens, nothing eventful, and I can’t say “I went to the mall” or “I went to the movies” or whatever. And oddly enough, those times seem to happen more frequently when I’m working on Rumored to Exist. I think it’s because when I work on Summer Rain, I actually write for 8 hours straight sometimes, interrupted only by breaks for food, drink, the restroom, or a CD change. So when I do that, there seems to be a greater sense of accomplishment. But when I work on Rumored, there’s a lot of dead space, a lot of looking at books and watching parts of movies and doing web searches and just fucking around in general. Because with Rumored, it could take me all day to pull together 30 lines of writing, 18 of which suck and need to be re-written. It’s satisfying to finally read something that has come together after a lot of work, but it’s also very frustrating to feel like I’m wasting away my time.

I haven’t been reading, and it’s a dangerous situation. I feel like I need to get buried in some books to guide me and reinforce that I’m supposed to be writing a book right now. But I feel like I’ll start ripping off somebody else’s stuff if I do start reading. I tore through some Leyner recently, and it got me started on how cool I could make things, but it also embedded a lot of references in my mind that I don’t want to rip off. None of his books really remind me of Rumored in their structure; the old stuff is much more experimental, and the newer stuff is more linear and plot-constructed. I thought about getting into some Burroughs, but it’s the same problem, and I don’t want to invest all of my creative energy into working through Nova Express or something. I need to start reading obscure technical manuals, almanacs, history texts, cancer handbooks, power tool instruction manuals, and other crap that will get my mind churned up enough to work on new ideas.

I started cataloging new ideas in a leatherbound journal that Marie got me a few months ago. It’s a little unlined book that’s perfect for me to brainstorm a few pages of idiotic ideas while I’m watching TV or whatever. I’m not doing a good job in general with the 87 different formats of journal I’m keeping, but I figure this will be an interesting experience.

IHOP has a $3 milkshake, which is a great shake, but I’m not sure if it’s worth $3. There’s an IHOP in the Bronx (take the 1 train to 231st) and it’s one of the few portals to my previous life. Everything in Manhattan is different, but every IHOP is almost exactly the same. This one is a little weird - no peaked churchlike ceiling - but it’s still a fucking IHOP. Four syrups, big pot of coffee, bizarre blue and wood color scheme - it’s all there. I think we’ve eaten there almost every week since my arrival. There’s no Denny’s, no 7-Eleven, no giant malls with parking lots and air-conditioned concourses. I guess I can get used to that (although I miss Slurpees) but it’s cool to go to the old, familiar International House of Pancakes and eat about 2000 calories of junk.

That’s all.

My email is dead, but I can still update my stuff here. I think it’s some kind of networking problem, and it’s stupid that all of my email sits on a machine in Seattle when I live in New York, but you’re talking about a person who still has all of his money in a Seafirst checking account.

I think I am starting to calm down about the major panic attack I was having w/r/t Rumored to Exist. I’m slowly getting back into it, but I’m not writing any great amounts yet. I’ve set a schedule that takes me to the end of the book around Halloween or so, and I’m ahead of schedule, but then I built a certain amount of slack into it so I could get back up to speed.

I’m listening to a Century Media compliation disc that was included in the last issue of Metal Curse and a bunch of Century Media releases a year or two ago. It’s a fairly diverse sampler of new death metal, and a decent CD to listen to if you’re as out of touch with the metal community as I am. It’s strange, because this disc reminds me so much of a year or so ago, when I lived in Seattle. I didn’t think I would be that nostalgic about Seattle, and it seems stupid to reminisce about the summer of 97 or 98, but I guess I do sometimes.

I’ve often thought that my next big project would be a novel about Seattle, going from when I left Indiana to when I left for New York. On the drive out, I outlined the whole thing, making it work like Bukowski’s book Post Office. I don’t know if I could write it or not, but it’s an interesting composition, the way everything is lined up and everything. I’ve got too many other things to worry about now, and I’m not sure I could write another strictly autobiographical book, but it’s always a thought.

My email is back. One thing from a Guns N Roses mailing list, two pieces of junk mail.

I’ve been very tired. Sick, tired, a lot of small things bugging me which cumulatively make me feel like I’m a car on its last legs, ready for abandonment on the side of an Indiana highway. It’s nothing major, and sleep seems to help, so maybe I’ll spend the week in bed, like one of my cats.

Summer Rain is done, or at least as done as it will be for a while. I read through it enough that I can’t read another paragraph. I’ve zipped up everything, and it’s all sitting on my hard drive, awaiting to be discovered in 50 years.

I’m supposed to be working on Rumored to Exist, but I’ve hit a major wall. I can’t even put together a string of words into a sentence anymore. I am over-analyzing everything and wondering how pieces of writing become good or bad and wondering how thoughts become words and paragraphs and pages and books. It’s like when you pick a random word and say it 10000 times and then wonder why the fuck they picked that phonetic disaster to be the word for zipper or jello or whatever. But on a larger scale. Maybe I just need to sleep more, I don’t know.

I didn’t write all day today. I slept. And I called banks. And I watched DVDs, mostly From the Earth to the Moon. I should’ve read, but I didn’t.

I thought I had a lot more to say when I got on here, but I guess I don’t.

Summer Rain is almost done. I shouldn’t be saying stuff like that, but I now have one of the most complete drafts of the book I’ve ever seen. There are still many small problems, and I’m not really into a lot of the writing in the final third. But there are no major holes in the story, and you could read the entire thing from start to finish without hitting a major construction spot. Now I’m going to sit and read the thing from start to finish a few times and try to iron out any small mistakes I can find.

I’m thinking of publishing a few dozen copies of the book and either giving them away to the people who helped me, and/or selling a few of them in some sort of limited, numbered run. If you think that sounds cool, let me know and I’ll think about it more.

The big thing on the horizon is Rumored to Exist. I’m trying to figure out a way to attack it, become immersed in it, and get rolling with it. I looked at all of it the other day, and I’ve realized that I really, really like 20% of it and the rest of it isn’t that great. And the current draft is only half as long as it needs to be. So there will be major cuts, major revisions, and a lot of new material. I’m excited, and I think this will be my big mark on, well whatever I’m trying to leave a mark on.

DIVX is dead! Can you believe it? I am getting into this DVD thing, especially the director’s commentaries. I just ordered a few more, but I really wish I could get a copy of Slacker with commentary. Or Naked Lunch.

Okay, time to start my day.