AG Substack AG Newsletter
Mythological horseshXt
There is something Mediterranean about staying with Andrew Mears and Valeska Hykel in England. I’m not sure what it is. Packing for the flight to London Heathrow to start my book tour-dates with Andrew, I brought my often reread Lattimore translation of The Odyssey and my once-read New Directions copy of Henry Miller’s Colossus of Maroussi. Between the Welsh/English tour-dates, I sat outside in Andrew and Valeska’s lovely back garden (under a parasol at a square wooden table) and worked diligently on the book. It was summer but felt like spring. We ate food Andrew and V made with fresh herbs. Drank lion-gold wine. Took the days slow. V worked on her prints. Their boy Sunlo went to elementary school in the morning and came back in the afternoon. Andrew sprawled out on the floor in the big open French doorway that leads from kitchen to garden and read. I also read (sporadically) and dug into the MS with a red pen. Bristol Mediterranean. Post-punk Greco-Roman Classic. Quiet and good.
A few days it rained gently. One afternoon I slept under the table in the grass. I had a broken foot. I felt the Earth move every day. Took photos of flowers. We made many jokes.
So meanwhile back in the States, I work outside each day at a back-deck table in the muggy prairie-tropics and eat fresh fruit from the garden, bread with olive oil and red-purple tomatoes (and oregano, cilantro, parsley, and basil I pick right before the meal).
In keeping with the Mediterranean leitmotif (terrible word), I’m reading Lawrence Durrell’s Avignon quintet. Still drinking lion-gold wine. Taking the morning slow. Watching the sky. Breathing deep. Setting fires in the big fire-ring by the little orchard. (While working very hard, and with consistency. Restfully working.)
Deadline for this book is September 1st. I’ve been hacking at it with a machete and also adding new scenes in a heart-rich rush as D-Day nears. Here at the farm, in the library room that borders the road, I have a Greek machete made from an ancient battle design. In a purely utilitarian sense it’s used to cut down brush and vines, but its intention was war. I don’t want to hurt anyone, though while at work on this book I’m slashing back and forth in my head (and singing) and thinking of my powers along (or with or on) the same path of elegance the Greek machete clears a trail.
It’s hot here. Dark nights. Fireflies. Thunderstorms. Humid, smoky, lush. I’m swinging this sword. No gets hurt. Yesterday I cut 10,000 words from it. Jessie and Elizabeth are off to a cabin in the woods for a bit, and Jessie’s taking the MS with her to work on. (The book is lacerated, turned inside out, and doused with gasoline, and hopefully a good thing comes of it.) I want to laugh and be healthy. Live outside the trap we’re meant to climb into. Why climb? Why not raise your arms in surrender then find a different way and do what you want?
What do I want?
I want this new book to be tremendous. It has to be a vibrant, gushing heartbreaker. I want it to tell the story of everything even as it tells nothing but the story of those I love. At its center, the book is about love—in the way that All About Love is. But this is fiction, or autobiographical fiction, or literary storytelling from the tradition of Proust, Genet, Balzac (or who knows. Mostly this is from the gut and the heart. I believe and I care and leave the rest to powers outside mine.) I’m trying very hard here and I am desperate to make this work and also substantially happy. I hope you have something to laugh about today, something stupid as hell.
News
-There’s a sale on my books, tapes, posters, shirts, and merch to help me afford a massive bill I need to pay (to fund a huge literary project) at the beginning of September. If you’ve ever wanted to buy one of my books now’s the time. Here’s my shop. Most of it is half-off. There’s a commercial for you. In the name of literature. And better things ahead.
-On tour in the Pacific Northwest, Lora Mathis told me to listen to this record and I love it. The Fools. It sounds like nothing else out there. Might be too weird for you. I hope not.
-I’m contributing to the Burn All Books Mail Mag now. I’ll tell you more about that later.
-The LA premier of Don’t Fall in Love With Yourself is tomorrow at Brain Dead Studios. Deaf Club plays and there’s a Q&A with Justin Pearson. (Backstory: I was interviewed in the documentary TurnStyle Films made about JP and the Three One G family. It’s out on BlueRay now and screening all over the country.)
I hope you’re surviving these strange, hard days we’re in. Maybe they’ve been strange, hard days for a while or maybe they’ve always been. What does that mean? Is this how it is forever? I hope you catch a break. I hope you’re in love or looking for it. Write me a letter or a postcard. I might not answer but I’ll sure as hell read it. I promise you that. If that’s any small consolation. (I will however try.)
Adam Gnade
PO box 74
Tonganoxie, KS
66086
If you send me a book I’d like that. If you send me a painting maybe I’ll put it on the wall or set it on fire or give it to someone else. Mail some cash and I’ll send whichever book of mine you want. Just say which one and add a little for shipping.
This is one of V’s prints. Well, I suppose I should say screen-printed monotype to be specific. (I would suggest buying one while they’re still affordable.) Says the internet, a screen-printed monotype is “A unique print, typically painterly in effect, made by applying paint or printing ink to a flat sheet of metal, glass, or plastic. The painted image is transferred to paper either by manually rubbing or using a press.” You can get lost in these. You should.
