reading, writing, playing with my kids, being near my wife.
Music
Mark Lanegan and co., Iron and Wine, PJ Harvey, The Roadside Graves
Movies
Adam Resurrected, Julia, Werckmeister Harmonies, Shotgun Stories, The Fall, Inland Empire, Big Bad Love, Intimacy, Morvern Callar, Synecdoche New York, Eraserhead, Wendigo, Buffalo 66, The Indian Runner, The Man Who Wasn't There, There Will Be Blood, George Washington, Bug, Zodiac, Before the Devil Knows You're Dead, The Dead Girl, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, Road to Perdition and failures like Stay, Perfume, Tideland, and Enduring Love
Television
the office, both
Books
Carolina Ghost Woods- poems- Judy Jordan, The Hunter; Disquiet-Julia Leigh, Julius Winsome-Gerard Donovan, short stories by Raymond Carver, Desolation Angels - Jack Kerouac, We Need To Talk About Kevin-Lionel Shriver, Stones of Summer-Dow Mossman, Winesburg,OH - Sherwood Anderson, Blood Meridian; The Road - Cormac McCarthy, American Youth - Phil Lamarche, The Lives of Rocks- Rick Bass, poetry Charles Simic/James Wright/Rodney Jones/Robert Wrigley, more, anything Tess Gallagher, Ray Bradbury.....
Heroes
mom, dad, wife, brothers...mostly when they're sad
About me: Married, employed, send the occasional political e-mail, hate forwards and bumper stickers, have four kids, or they have me. had the angel step from my shoulder, momentarily, and let the demon that is self publishing possess. the title of the book is 'orphans of canyon', can be found here: http://www.lulu.com/content/paperback-book/orphans-of-canyon2/7931064
Who I'd like to meet: Cormac McCarthy, Samantha Morton, Charles Simic, David Gordon Green, David Cronenberg, Julia Leigh, Toni Collette
I am sending this to you for two reasons: one, because I want you to know that I'm keeping your family in my thoughts and prayers, and two, because you're one of my favorite writers and I haven't kept up with reading you. I see your updates and have to avoid them while I'm in the middle of writing my own stuff or else I'd be all full of what you write and feel like a plagiariser.
A while back, if I remember right, my life was one long party where all hearts were open wide, where all wines kept flowing.
One night, I sat Beauty down on my lap.—And I found her galling.—And I roughed her up.
I armed myself against justice.
I ran away. O witches, O misery, O hatred, my treasure's been turned over to you!
I managed to make every trace of human hope vanish from my mind. I pounced on every joy like a ferocious animal eager to strangle it.
I called for executioners so that, while dying, I could bite the butts of their rifles. I called for plagues to choke me with sand, with blood. Bad luck was my god. I stretched out in the muck. I dried myself in the air of crime. And I played tricks on insanity.
And Spring brought me the frightening laugh of the idiot.
So, just recently, when I found myself on the brink of the final squawk! it dawned on me to look again for the key to that ancient party where I might find my appetite once more.
Charity is that key.—This inspiration proves I was dreaming!
"You'll always be a hyena etc. . . ," yells the devil, who'd crowned me with such pretty poppies. "Deserve death with all your appetites, your selfishness, and all the capital sins!"
Ah! I've been through too much:-But, sweet Satan, I beg of you, a less blazing eye! and while waiting for the new little cowardly gestures yet to come, since you like an absence of descriptive or didactic skills in a writer, let me rip out these few ghastly pages from my notebook of the damned.
