PRESSURE PRESS ARCHIVE
RETICULATED DAYS IN THE LIVES OF A REGULAR MAN
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 CHAPTER 14
UN-FUCKING BE-LIEVABLE, UN-FUCKING BE-LIEVABLE, I repeat over & over & over at the kitchen table.
"What is it?" Diane questions, her tea-bag like an anchor pulled from dark honey lake.
"Un-fucking be-lievable!" I continue chanting my mantra, holding the letter, shaking my head.
"You never tell me about nothin', Ron," she knifes in as a whisper.
"Atom Mind magazine has asked me to be featured in The Living Poets Series. I'm totally astounded!"
"Does it pay any money?"
"Oh, a little, but that doesn't matter. I can't believe I'm included with the absolute greatest Poets of America! Un-fucking be-lievable...," I trail off. "But I need to write a 5,000 word autobiography."
I celebrate Atom Mind's request with consecutive cans of beer since it IS Friday.
I wake at like 6 in the morning, fix a 12-cup pot of electrocuted coffee, & I get about a third of it into a giant glass mug I've owned since 1978.
Suddenly, explosively, I'm writing an autobiographical sketch. I down 3(!) POTS OF COFFEE, smoke thru a pack of Marlboro Lights, & suck a couple pipes. I'm shaking & quaking & jesus fuck what a rich Life I have indeed led. At 4 in the afternoon I'm to 1985, at 5,000 words. I'm burnt, wide-eyed, hyperventilating at the desk, & know if I say one name like Kurt Nimmo or Cheryl Townsend I cld go on another 5,000 words, so end the thing, & dive into my cold case of Genny Cream Ale printing it all up. 11 pages long packed with astonishing dicotomies & paradoxes.
Un-fucking Be-lievable.
& I haven't even included these PAST 10 YEARS, when so much more happened, & there is so much more to say, to capture. But I'm a blithering nut, almost fainting at the sink downstairs, & if I just get this much to Greg Smith, the Editor, I can cool down for a while.
What will I tell Judy at work tonight when she asks what I did this weekend?
I drank a case of Genny Cream Ale.