Sold a MESSIAHS and a CHEESESTEAK. The buyer was a 30/40-ish-year-old attorney, who had been in the tech-financial field and was now waiting to see where life would take him. (He got a t-shirt for his wife.)
In other news…. (Which is where most of the action was.)
1.) My café pal Glory reports her mother hasn’t started LOLLIPOP yet because she has a stack of NYTs to get through. She has, however, read the “Puddles” chapter in CHEESESTEAK four times. “She thinks you are so funny.” Glory knows I went to a Quaker school and was herself in a Quaker mental hospital. Why are the Quakers so into education, she wonders, and “How did they get into oats?”
2.) Felice, an e-mail friend and author of true-crime paperbacks, wrote that she had tried to put a review of MOST OUTRAGEOUS on Amazon but was denied permission because she hadn’t bought it there. Since she wrote that my book was for “anyone interested in true crime, gender relations, comics, the First Amendment, sex crime victims, (and) really most anyone who can read,” I tried to help her. In the course of this effort, I learned that MO had been acquired by sixty-some libraries, including half-a-dozen law libraries (Yale and Penn included. I was frankly flabbergasted. I also found a 10-year-old review at GoodReads, from someone named “Andrew,” which was better and more flattering than anything I could have written. He called me “scrupulous,” “brave” and “wise” and says the book is clearly written, intellectually honest, and has moments where the prose “sings.”
I have to admit MO is the book I fewl most sheepish about. It is the one I least frequently lay out on my café table. But now I thought I might write about its writing, including a never-written story that stemmed from it. So I took another look and – BOY! – is it good!
3.) Coincidentally, just yesterday I received an email from a cousin who usually limits herself to hoping Adele and I are well. I do not know if she has read my most recent book or listened to the “Amusing Jews” podcast, but she wondered “what drew (me) to twisted, violent, misogynistic, sadistic comic artists in the first place.” Outwardly, I seem “calm… but inside must be a seething cauldron.”
I’ll work this into my new piece too.
Adventures in Marketing — Weeks 517 – 520
Businesss had been so slow I’d shut this operation down at the 10-year mark. My only sale had been a t-shirt to my SSI-dependant café friend after I had given her $20 for Xmas and she gave $5 back to me. She was planning to send it to her mother but then decided to wear it as a nightshirt herself.
Then, Jan. 1, PayPal notified me I had received near $200 from a fellow who wanted 10 of my books. (He missed two, so I included them in the package and said he could repay me at cost). Naturally, I was curious. Was this some comic-crazed madman? Was it an academic who had decided it was time my work receive a monograph? But, no, he was a young man in Chicago who had heard good things about “Lollipop.” He had visited my web site to order it and been intrigued by everything else. More startlingly, he was studying to be a hospital chaplain, which did not exactly fit my sense of my demographics. Anyway, I figured if things kept up at this rate, I would gross $7 million this year.
It also reminded me – in an Adventures Greatest Hits sort-of way – of a couple other big sales. One was the woman who swept into the café and gave everyone a Meyer lemon from her tree. She bought the books I had on display – and then went to the Free Books shelf and took several of them. The following day, someone who knew her from a group he attended told me she was bi-polar. (I never saw or heard from her again.) Another was the hippy era artist from Santa Cruz who never showed or sold his work but stored it all in a garage. He sent me a check from a woman friend for several books. (I never heard from him again either.)
Then, Jan. 1, PayPal notified me I had received near $200 from a fellow who wanted 10 of my books. (He missed two, so I included them in the package and said he could repay me at cost). Naturally, I was curious. Was this some comic-crazed madman? Was it an academic who had decided it was time my work receive a monograph? But, no, he was a young man in Chicago who had heard good things about “Lollipop.” He had visited my web site to order it and been intrigued by everything else. More startlingly, he was studying to be a hospital chaplain, which did not exactly fit my sense of my demographics. Anyway, I figured if things kept up at this rate, I would gross $7 million this year.
It also reminded me – in an Adventures Greatest Hits sort-of way – of a couple other big sales. One was the woman who swept into the café and gave everyone a Meyer lemon from her tree. She bought the books I had on display – and then went to the Free Books shelf and took several of them. The following day, someone who knew her from a group he attended told me she was bi-polar. (I never saw or heard from her again.) Another was the hippy era artist from Santa Cruz who never showed or sold his work but stored it all in a garage. He sent me a check from a woman friend for several books. (I never heard from him again either.)
Still Writing
My latest piece is available at https://www.firstofthemonth.org/still-writing/
Faithful readers will recall from my Adventures from whence this came, It begins like this:
Harold and I used to play nickle, dime, quarter in junior high school. Now he was in town for a Texas Hold ‘Em tournament. We met for lunch. His beard looked like a tamarin monkey had been grafted on his chin. “Still writing,?” he said. “Yup,” I said. And that was that. I asked him about poker. I asked about grandchildren. We ran through the Eagles and the Warriors. Stories about his GM dealership and repossessions dropped like stones on my toes. “Are you all right?” he asked at one lull. “Meditating,” I said. When he came back from the john, he asked what I wrote about. He thought underground comics did stand-up.
Faithful readers will recall from my Adventures from whence this came, It begins like this:
Harold and I used to play nickle, dime, quarter in junior high school. Now he was in town for a Texas Hold ‘Em tournament. We met for lunch. His beard looked like a tamarin monkey had been grafted on his chin. “Still writing,?” he said. “Yup,” I said. And that was that. I asked him about poker. I asked about grandchildren. We ran through the Eagles and the Warriors. Stories about his GM dealership and repossessions dropped like stones on my toes. “Are you all right?” he asked at one lull. “Meditating,” I said. When he came back from the john, he asked what I wrote about. He thought underground comics did stand-up.
Last 10 Books Read (xxxiii)
In Order of Completion
1. Thomas Bernhardt. GATHERING EVIDENCE. Bernhardt was recommended by my café pal Fran. These autobiographical pieces, written separately but now arranged chronologically, proved a good place to start. It runs through Burhard’s adolescence and is blisteringly dark and scathingly funny. It lacks chapters and dialogue, as do all his books.
2. Yvonne Martinez. SCABMUGGERS. Yvonne, an ex-labor organizer, is another café friend. This recounts her experiences at a Harvard program for organizers from around the world. (She has adapted it into a play which will premiere in Berkeley shortly.) It is stark, serious, issue-oriented and contains my favorite opening line in recent American letters: “I was raised by felons…”
3, Michael McMillan. TERMINAL EXPOSURE. A collection of art, cartoons and comix by a (once underground) octogenarian previously unknown to me. It came recommended by two people whose opinions I hold in high regard, but was too out-there for me. I needed to be led by the hand and guided to its worth.
4. Kerin Boye. KALLOCAINE. I met Boye in the Peter Weiss book (See below), where she is as a character. A Swedish lesbian poet, she committed suicide in 1941, at age 41, shortly after finishing this dystopian view of a 1984-like society written before Orwell’s book gave that view its name. Credit is due for her foresight that but I didn’t care for it much for the book itself.
5. Peter Weiss. AESTHETICS OF RESISTANCE, vol iii. The final book to the trilogy and the one most easily grasped. Reading them all, even over months, was a powerful, unique, informative experience. No dialogue; no chapters; not for the faint of heart.
6. Clare Kahane. NINE LIVES. A good friend of a good friend. We have known her since she was working on a PhD in English. Turns out she had quite a life before that. Tours with Greenwich Village folkies, SF Beats, Berkeley hippy revolutionaries, , and on the road, motorcycling thru the US and Europe. Want to know what a nice Jewish girl from the Bronx was doing in places like that?
7. Thomas Bernhardt. WITTGENSTEIN’S NEPHEW. The funny plays a larger role in this one. My laughter convinced Adele to try it – and she finished!
8. Lazlo Krasnznahorkai. THE MELANCHOLY OF RESISTANCE. The most recent Noble Prize winner. Again, no dialogue or chapters. Comic, I think, and not for me. So over-laden I missed the death of a principal character for the first time since THE RECOGNITIONS.
9. Sean Howe. AGENTS OF CHAOS. A biography of Tom Forcade, head of the Underground Press Syndicate, Yippie, Zippie, publisher of “High Times,” and major drug smuggler – and abuser. What a lot of craziness was going on at the time. What did these people imagine they were achieving? I was around, but I missed it.
10. Thomas Bernhardt. THE LOSER. Another striking book. I felt Burkhard lost his way toward the end – if he can be said to have a way. The relationship between an unnamed narrator, who is a piano virtuoso, the title character, who is another, and Glen Gould are at its center. Other musicians and artists to consider what Burkhardt has to say.
1. Thomas Bernhardt. GATHERING EVIDENCE. Bernhardt was recommended by my café pal Fran. These autobiographical pieces, written separately but now arranged chronologically, proved a good place to start. It runs through Burhard’s adolescence and is blisteringly dark and scathingly funny. It lacks chapters and dialogue, as do all his books.
2. Yvonne Martinez. SCABMUGGERS. Yvonne, an ex-labor organizer, is another café friend. This recounts her experiences at a Harvard program for organizers from around the world. (She has adapted it into a play which will premiere in Berkeley shortly.) It is stark, serious, issue-oriented and contains my favorite opening line in recent American letters: “I was raised by felons…”
3, Michael McMillan. TERMINAL EXPOSURE. A collection of art, cartoons and comix by a (once underground) octogenarian previously unknown to me. It came recommended by two people whose opinions I hold in high regard, but was too out-there for me. I needed to be led by the hand and guided to its worth.
4. Kerin Boye. KALLOCAINE. I met Boye in the Peter Weiss book (See below), where she is as a character. A Swedish lesbian poet, she committed suicide in 1941, at age 41, shortly after finishing this dystopian view of a 1984-like society written before Orwell’s book gave that view its name. Credit is due for her foresight that but I didn’t care for it much for the book itself.
5. Peter Weiss. AESTHETICS OF RESISTANCE, vol iii. The final book to the trilogy and the one most easily grasped. Reading them all, even over months, was a powerful, unique, informative experience. No dialogue; no chapters; not for the faint of heart.
6. Clare Kahane. NINE LIVES. A good friend of a good friend. We have known her since she was working on a PhD in English. Turns out she had quite a life before that. Tours with Greenwich Village folkies, SF Beats, Berkeley hippy revolutionaries, , and on the road, motorcycling thru the US and Europe. Want to know what a nice Jewish girl from the Bronx was doing in places like that?
7. Thomas Bernhardt. WITTGENSTEIN’S NEPHEW. The funny plays a larger role in this one. My laughter convinced Adele to try it – and she finished!
8. Lazlo Krasnznahorkai. THE MELANCHOLY OF RESISTANCE. The most recent Noble Prize winner. Again, no dialogue or chapters. Comic, I think, and not for me. So over-laden I missed the death of a principal character for the first time since THE RECOGNITIONS.
9. Sean Howe. AGENTS OF CHAOS. A biography of Tom Forcade, head of the Underground Press Syndicate, Yippie, Zippie, publisher of “High Times,” and major drug smuggler – and abuser. What a lot of craziness was going on at the time. What did these people imagine they were achieving? I was around, but I missed it.
10. Thomas Bernhardt. THE LOSER. Another striking book. I felt Burkhard lost his way toward the end – if he can be said to have a way. The relationship between an unnamed narrator, who is a piano virtuoso, the title character, who is another, and Glen Gould are at its center. Other musicians and artists to consider what Burkhardt has to say.
Adventures in Marketing — Week 516
Sold a “Lollipop” and a “Pirates & Mouse.”
The former went to my café friend who’d bought a “Cheesesteak” for her mother, an ex-Philadelphia. She won’t find this as funny, I’m afraid, except in a darker sought of way.
The other went to a Chinese-American public health researcher in he late 30s or 40s. Usually when I ask to whom I should inscribe a book, it is to the buyer or the buyer and a partner or the person to whom the buyer intends to give it as a gift. But this woman asked that I inscribe it to her entire family which is how I learned she had three children. I did not wonder until later if I should have warned her this is not the Disney to which they are accustomed.
In other news…
1.) The BerkeleySide article which reported on “Messiahs” has come and gone. Thirteen people reacted to my FB link to it, which is about double the number of people who usually take note of me, but only one person known to me read down far enough in the article to note my book’s presence. No doubt there were more, but, as yet, none of my success-related fantasies have fleshed.
2.) Faithful readers will recall the visit from the childhood friend whose apparent lack of interest in my writing I had noted last Adventure. As far as I knew, he had never read any of my books or Adventures, but I was wrong, at least to the latter. For not only had he read my last one but he felt so disrespected by it he did not wish to speak to me again. I felt badly, but since we had last spoken in about 1967, I did not foresee a great gap in my social calendar yawning
His position was that when he asked “Still writing?” and I answered only “Yes,” I did not wish to say more, so he had moved the conversation elsewhere. My position was that I had answered the question asked and was awaiting the next one. This, I explained, was not because I was acting on the instruction of counsel, but because I think most people aren’t terribly interested in my writing. I am in awe of those who feel their opinions on Ukraine, Gaza, cryptocurrency, antitrust, antisemitism, antivivisection, AI, DEI, Trump, Biden, Elon Musk, and Top 10 Movies and Point Guards demand sharing with others. (I suspect they had different experiences around the family dinner table than I.) Such confidence is as far from me as a capacity for unassisted flight. Even close friends go entire lunches without asking about my writing. They buy my books but do not read them. They read parts and are at a loss for what to say.
I was also aware that among Philadelphians, where both my friend and I had learned social etiquette, the greeting “Howydoin?” does not imply the least interest in being told, whereas “Whereyizfrom?”, depending on circumstances, might merit a naming of neighborhood or street intersection or high school, if, for instance, you were hopeful of initiating a relationship at a record hop. I was unsure where “Still writing?” fit along this continuum. It seemed most equivalent to “Still playing?”, which someone you had lined up against for a center jump might ask 20 or 30 years after last socking you with an elbow, in which case “Yes” or “No” worked fine. You need not go into the frequency or nature of the competition or the knee surgery which had forced you into pickleball.
“But I love talking about my writing,” I concluded. “What would you like to know?”
No question followed.
The former went to my café friend who’d bought a “Cheesesteak” for her mother, an ex-Philadelphia. She won’t find this as funny, I’m afraid, except in a darker sought of way.
The other went to a Chinese-American public health researcher in he late 30s or 40s. Usually when I ask to whom I should inscribe a book, it is to the buyer or the buyer and a partner or the person to whom the buyer intends to give it as a gift. But this woman asked that I inscribe it to her entire family which is how I learned she had three children. I did not wonder until later if I should have warned her this is not the Disney to which they are accustomed.
In other news…
1.) The BerkeleySide article which reported on “Messiahs” has come and gone. Thirteen people reacted to my FB link to it, which is about double the number of people who usually take note of me, but only one person known to me read down far enough in the article to note my book’s presence. No doubt there were more, but, as yet, none of my success-related fantasies have fleshed.
2.) Faithful readers will recall the visit from the childhood friend whose apparent lack of interest in my writing I had noted last Adventure. As far as I knew, he had never read any of my books or Adventures, but I was wrong, at least to the latter. For not only had he read my last one but he felt so disrespected by it he did not wish to speak to me again. I felt badly, but since we had last spoken in about 1967, I did not foresee a great gap in my social calendar yawning
His position was that when he asked “Still writing?” and I answered only “Yes,” I did not wish to say more, so he had moved the conversation elsewhere. My position was that I had answered the question asked and was awaiting the next one. This, I explained, was not because I was acting on the instruction of counsel, but because I think most people aren’t terribly interested in my writing. I am in awe of those who feel their opinions on Ukraine, Gaza, cryptocurrency, antitrust, antisemitism, antivivisection, AI, DEI, Trump, Biden, Elon Musk, and Top 10 Movies and Point Guards demand sharing with others. (I suspect they had different experiences around the family dinner table than I.) Such confidence is as far from me as a capacity for unassisted flight. Even close friends go entire lunches without asking about my writing. They buy my books but do not read them. They read parts and are at a loss for what to say.
I was also aware that among Philadelphians, where both my friend and I had learned social etiquette, the greeting “Howydoin?” does not imply the least interest in being told, whereas “Whereyizfrom?”, depending on circumstances, might merit a naming of neighborhood or street intersection or high school, if, for instance, you were hopeful of initiating a relationship at a record hop. I was unsure where “Still writing?” fit along this continuum. It seemed most equivalent to “Still playing?”, which someone you had lined up against for a center jump might ask 20 or 30 years after last socking you with an elbow, in which case “Yes” or “No” worked fine. You need not go into the frequency or nature of the competition or the knee surgery which had forced you into pickleball.
“But I love talking about my writing,” I concluded. “What would you like to know?”
No question followed.
Adventures in Marketing — Week 515
Sold a MESSIAHS. The buyer was the fellow who is at work on a documentary about the Air Pirates. (See: Levin. PIRATES AND THE MOUSE.) He has raised sufficient funds to begin shooting. Then he hopes his footage will help secure more funding. (His most recent film, concerning a Marine in Afghanistan, will be shown on PBS on Jan. 12.)
And swapped a MESSIAHS (and t-shirt) to our IT guy for services rendered. He got the mike on my lap top working so I was fully Zoom-ready. (See below.)
In other news:
a.) The Zoom, which was with the co-hosts of “Amusing Jews,” was great fun. They had sent me sample questions, almost all of which I’d answered before orally or in writing – or many times in my head, so I was well-prepared to be informative – and amusing. Both hosts were in their late 30s or early 40s, so, especially when I was talking about the 1950s, I felt like a visitor from another planet. (The show will be available for listening/viewing in a few weeks. I’ll let you know.)
b.) My café friend, to whom I gave CHEESESTEAK to send her 90-year-old mother in Portland, who is from Philadelphia, says she found it “hysterical” and wants to read more by me.
LOLLIPOP is under consideration.
c.) Another café friend is going to Amsterdam for eight days and the only book she is taking is MESSIAHS. So as far as I know, that will be its cross-Atlantic debut. All foreign language rights remain available.
d.) Finally, a couple things that burn my ass:
i) I am sick and tired of people who all they can think to say in response to something of mine they’ve read is “You’re really a good writer.” As I said to one of these the other day, “I know I’m a good writer. I’ve been a good writer since 6th grade.” I am appreciative that they’ve read me at all. I know I’m not for everyone. In fact, I count on it. But there’s worse. Like, for instance…
ii.) A guy with whom I had been friends in elementary school was in town with his wife for a bridge tournament. We met for lunch. He said, “Still writing, Bob?” “Yup,” I said. And that was that. I asked him about bridge. I asked about grandchildren. We ran through the Eagles and the Warriors. I heard many stories about his law practice and years as a trial judge. “Are you all right?” he asked. “Just meditating,” I said.
When he went to the bathroom, his wife asked what I wrote about. She had no idea what an underground comic was.
And swapped a MESSIAHS (and t-shirt) to our IT guy for services rendered. He got the mike on my lap top working so I was fully Zoom-ready. (See below.)
In other news:
a.) The Zoom, which was with the co-hosts of “Amusing Jews,” was great fun. They had sent me sample questions, almost all of which I’d answered before orally or in writing – or many times in my head, so I was well-prepared to be informative – and amusing. Both hosts were in their late 30s or early 40s, so, especially when I was talking about the 1950s, I felt like a visitor from another planet. (The show will be available for listening/viewing in a few weeks. I’ll let you know.)
b.) My café friend, to whom I gave CHEESESTEAK to send her 90-year-old mother in Portland, who is from Philadelphia, says she found it “hysterical” and wants to read more by me.
LOLLIPOP is under consideration.
c.) Another café friend is going to Amsterdam for eight days and the only book she is taking is MESSIAHS. So as far as I know, that will be its cross-Atlantic debut. All foreign language rights remain available.
d.) Finally, a couple things that burn my ass:
i) I am sick and tired of people who all they can think to say in response to something of mine they’ve read is “You’re really a good writer.” As I said to one of these the other day, “I know I’m a good writer. I’ve been a good writer since 6th grade.” I am appreciative that they’ve read me at all. I know I’m not for everyone. In fact, I count on it. But there’s worse. Like, for instance…
ii.) A guy with whom I had been friends in elementary school was in town with his wife for a bridge tournament. We met for lunch. He said, “Still writing, Bob?” “Yup,” I said. And that was that. I asked him about bridge. I asked about grandchildren. We ran through the Eagles and the Warriors. I heard many stories about his law practice and years as a trial judge. “Are you all right?” he asked. “Just meditating,” I said.
When he went to the bathroom, his wife asked what I wrote about. She had no idea what an underground comic was.
Adventures in Marketing — Week 513
Sold no books. But did gain a “Pirates and the Mouse.”
When it was published, I seem to have given an unsigned copy to my optometrist to put in a bookcase where she displayed books by her patients. Susan Griffin. Scoop Nisker. Robert Reich. A couple years ago, she sold her practice to another optometrist, and when I went in the other day to pick up a pair of prescription reading glasses, I saw a stack of books on a counter. I don’t if they were to be re-displayed, discarded, or available for adoption, but I asked for mine. The sales clerk said “Sure.” If there is a new display, I will bring one or two others to replace it.
ii
At lunch a friend said he had read a couple more pieces in “Messiahs.” Jaxon and Kurtzman. “You are such a good writer,” he said. “You do so much research. But, seriously, Bob, comic books?”
See what I am up against.
iii
A veritable tsunami of media attention is sweeping me along:
A woman, who is writing up “Messiahs” as part of a feature on recent-books-by-local-authors for a Berkeley on-line daily, interviewed me by phone. Each book has been allotted 300 words, and she seems to have read none of mine. (She had read the introduction and was impressed.) I gave her some good stuff and am confident I will pull my weight.
The fellows with whom I will be zooming in two weeks for their podcast/You Tube video sent me some preliminary questions. I have honed my anecdotes and can handle them all;
An author of paperback originals about B-movie stars, true crimes, and Christian discipline erotica, with whom I connected on-line over our mutual interest in Peggy Manley (See: “Cheesesteak.” p.33 et seq.) has told me she will be giving “Most Outrageous” “one of the best reviews ever” at Amazon, Instagram, and You Tube.
Happy Thanksgiving.
All Bob’s books are available at www.theboblevin.com.
When it was published, I seem to have given an unsigned copy to my optometrist to put in a bookcase where she displayed books by her patients. Susan Griffin. Scoop Nisker. Robert Reich. A couple years ago, she sold her practice to another optometrist, and when I went in the other day to pick up a pair of prescription reading glasses, I saw a stack of books on a counter. I don’t if they were to be re-displayed, discarded, or available for adoption, but I asked for mine. The sales clerk said “Sure.” If there is a new display, I will bring one or two others to replace it.
ii
At lunch a friend said he had read a couple more pieces in “Messiahs.” Jaxon and Kurtzman. “You are such a good writer,” he said. “You do so much research. But, seriously, Bob, comic books?”
See what I am up against.
iii
A veritable tsunami of media attention is sweeping me along:
A woman, who is writing up “Messiahs” as part of a feature on recent-books-by-local-authors for a Berkeley on-line daily, interviewed me by phone. Each book has been allotted 300 words, and she seems to have read none of mine. (She had read the introduction and was impressed.) I gave her some good stuff and am confident I will pull my weight.
The fellows with whom I will be zooming in two weeks for their podcast/You Tube video sent me some preliminary questions. I have honed my anecdotes and can handle them all;
An author of paperback originals about B-movie stars, true crimes, and Christian discipline erotica, with whom I connected on-line over our mutual interest in Peggy Manley (See: “Cheesesteak.” p.33 et seq.) has told me she will be giving “Most Outrageous” “one of the best reviews ever” at Amazon, Instagram, and You Tube.
Happy Thanksgiving.
All Bob’s books are available at www.theboblevin.com.
Adventures in Marketing — Week 512
Sold two MESSIAHS. One (plus t-shirt) went to a regular at the café who had missed the launch party. The other went to an artist who lives near New Hope, PA. We have never met but had come across a copy of OUTLAWS a few years ago at a museum bookstore and written to tell me how it had impacted her life. Boy, was that a bolt-from-the-blue spirit-lifter! It is a memory I replay and replay in my mind. We have remained in light contact (mainly through FB), and she had turned her partner, a NYC-based artist, onto my work. Now, in the note accompanying her check, she reaffirmed how my humor, insights and obsessions had influenced her (and “others”). I sent her a t-shirt too. (It seems to have passed the postal clerk as “packing material” since it didn’t cost me my Media Mail rate.)
MESSIAHS also received its first review, from Steven Thompson, at his on-line “Forces of Geek.” Thompson, a 66-year-old aficionado of popular culture, wasn’t familiar with many of the folks and books I wrote about, but he was quite complimentary about my work and me. (His only complaint was the title: “Abominable.”
None of the potential interviews has drawn any closer, and one has been taken off the board entirely.
In other news…
The Zoom between the Air Pirates documentary film maker, two of his associates, the proposed copyright law expert, and me went swimmingly. (The fact that I couldn’t get my microphone to operate was not a major problem, since I had nothing to say.) The star was the law professor, who came across as a classic of the type: extremely bright; engagingly eccentric. (For the fictional adaptation, think Margaret Rutherford.) I could see the film maker becoming entranced, looking forward to getting cameras rolling.
MESSIAHS also received its first review, from Steven Thompson, at his on-line “Forces of Geek.” Thompson, a 66-year-old aficionado of popular culture, wasn’t familiar with many of the folks and books I wrote about, but he was quite complimentary about my work and me. (His only complaint was the title: “Abominable.”
None of the potential interviews has drawn any closer, and one has been taken off the board entirely.
In other news…
The Zoom between the Air Pirates documentary film maker, two of his associates, the proposed copyright law expert, and me went swimmingly. (The fact that I couldn’t get my microphone to operate was not a major problem, since I had nothing to say.) The star was the law professor, who came across as a classic of the type: extremely bright; engagingly eccentric. (For the fictional adaptation, think Margaret Rutherford.) I could see the film maker becoming entranced, looking forward to getting cameras rolling.
Adventures in Marketing — Week 511
Sold a MESSIAHS to a café pal and gave one to a fellow I’ve known since kindergarten as a birthday present. Gave a CHEESESTEAK to a woman at the café on SSI, as a gift for her mother who lives in Portland but is from Philadelphia. Her mom is 90, so seven-years older than me, but some of my stuff may resonate.
Received a very nice – and thoughtful – email from a writer I don’t know, praising me and MESSIAHS. He said he had read it cover-to-cover, which makes only two people I know of who have done that. Some seem to have stopped with the introduction. Several have read the Vaughn Bode piece. A few have jumped around. One, surprisingly, was most taken by Mike Diana. No other entries have received mention.
In other news…
The Air Pirates zoom has moved a significant step closer to realization, but there have been no developments with my interview by the on-line paper. As for the woman who wants to discuss my research methodology…
She apologized for not following through again on our proposed conversation. She explained, she had (a) been hospitalized and (b) had been forced to vacate her apartment due to black mold. She was moving to LA. Maybe we could have coffee.
I said Berkeley was a long commute from LA.
Was there a train? she inquired.
AMTRAK, I said.
There things remain.
Received a very nice – and thoughtful – email from a writer I don’t know, praising me and MESSIAHS. He said he had read it cover-to-cover, which makes only two people I know of who have done that. Some seem to have stopped with the introduction. Several have read the Vaughn Bode piece. A few have jumped around. One, surprisingly, was most taken by Mike Diana. No other entries have received mention.
In other news…
The Air Pirates zoom has moved a significant step closer to realization, but there have been no developments with my interview by the on-line paper. As for the woman who wants to discuss my research methodology…
She apologized for not following through again on our proposed conversation. She explained, she had (a) been hospitalized and (b) had been forced to vacate her apartment due to black mold. She was moving to LA. Maybe we could have coffee.
I said Berkeley was a long commute from LA.
Was there a train? she inquired.
AMTRAK, I said.
There things remain.
Adventures in Marketing — Week 510
Sold four MESSIAHS. (And a second cousin reported at FB that she bought one.)
The first and second went to and electrical engineer from Eritrea, who had come to the US as a teenager. He bought one for himself and one as a gift for a relative. The third went to a former secretary of mine and the fourth to a retired social worker who wanted it for a friend in NYC, who had bought books of mine previously when visiting. (Everyone received a t-shirt.)
I also gave an IWKYA to a retired attorney in the DC area whom I know from an on-line discussion (mainly basketball and politics) group. He’d expressed interest in my health saga. It was a gift because I had previously signed it for an elementary school friend, currently living in Florida, who has memory problems and, for reasons known only to him, had decided I needed it back. “So it’s personally inscribed,” I told the fellow in D.C., “only not to you.”
Meanwhile, I have not heard from the reporter who’d expressed interest in writing about MESSIAHS for an on-line daily or from the woman who wanted to discuss my research technique. (This was the second time she has dropped this ball, so I am giving up on her.)
In other news…
The documentary about Dan O’Neill and the Air Pirates is moving along. The first meeting in 40 years between Dan and one member of the crew was filmed. (Another was ill and couldn’t make it and will have to be filmed separately.) The copyright expert the documentarian hoped to interview has health problems too. And so does he.
So there is this aspect of the project being a race against time.
The first and second went to and electrical engineer from Eritrea, who had come to the US as a teenager. He bought one for himself and one as a gift for a relative. The third went to a former secretary of mine and the fourth to a retired social worker who wanted it for a friend in NYC, who had bought books of mine previously when visiting. (Everyone received a t-shirt.)
I also gave an IWKYA to a retired attorney in the DC area whom I know from an on-line discussion (mainly basketball and politics) group. He’d expressed interest in my health saga. It was a gift because I had previously signed it for an elementary school friend, currently living in Florida, who has memory problems and, for reasons known only to him, had decided I needed it back. “So it’s personally inscribed,” I told the fellow in D.C., “only not to you.”
Meanwhile, I have not heard from the reporter who’d expressed interest in writing about MESSIAHS for an on-line daily or from the woman who wanted to discuss my research technique. (This was the second time she has dropped this ball, so I am giving up on her.)
In other news…
The documentary about Dan O’Neill and the Air Pirates is moving along. The first meeting in 40 years between Dan and one member of the crew was filmed. (Another was ill and couldn’t make it and will have to be filmed separately.) The copyright expert the documentarian hoped to interview has health problems too. And so does he.
So there is this aspect of the project being a race against time.