Spring brings everyone out of the woodwork. We meet our neighbors again. Go places. Do things. Try to catch up, make up for lost time.
Deadlines, headlines, fresh bullsh*t, annexations, power moves, sloppy footwork, out of nowheres, sideswiped, blindsided, sluggish with a hint of snow, allergies, smudges under the eyes, nodding off on the train... It must be April on the way.
People die in April, like they do in early winter. It becomes a rhythm you get used to, when everyone is dying. And then it slows, and slows some more, and people are astonished at death again. But the rhythm's still there.
That makes it a perfect time to read "Fire In the Belly: The Life and Times of David Wojnarowicz," by Cynthia Carr. 580-some pages is daunting, but the man was fascinating, brilliant, and burned fast as hell in the too-short time he had. His autobiography is the first thing to read, but this bio's got art and stories and a sense of history and moment. Remember Jesse Helms, the NEA, and FDA, all that ancient history? Yeah. Gonna take a while to plow through but I'm not stopping 'til I'm done.
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