I Have Powers --King, Ellison, Fagen, and Voice of the Unknown

I’ve been listening to books on Audible lately. I just finished listening to How to Be Like Walt Disney, which focuses on all the good traits to follow (but omits less beneficial ones like “smoke three packs of cigarettes a day”). Prior to that interesting and occasionally inspiring book, it had been a succession of music biographies read by the musician who wrote them: Kim’ Gordon’s Girl in a Band, Bob Mould’s See a Little Light, Paul Stanley’s Face the Music: A Life Exposed.. I’d forgotten to download next up in my queue, Donald Fagen’s Eminent Hipsters, and had such a long ride ahead of me I did something I’d never done before—pull up at a Dunkin Donuts for free Wi-Fi rather than a coffee.

Twenty seconds later, I had my book. I’d read a couple years ago and liked it enough that I thought the experience of hearing Fagen read it might bring it alive in other ways, and thus far my preconceived notion has proven true. The book mixes memoir and insightful cultural commentary and achieves the affect of being at once intensely personal and wide ranging. Unlike the bands the three artists I’ve mentioned above spent much of their careers in (Sonic Youth, Husker Du, and Kiss), of whom I’ve absorbed a great deal of information about and have been listening to for over thirty years (and have the entire catalogs of), I know next to nothing about Fagen or Steely Dan and have only been listening to for about five years (and yet I still somehow have the entire catalog, band and solo. Sigh). I’d heard some songs prior, of course—and hated them. Steely Dan would be a mainstay of the AM radio my mother listened to in the car, and often their hit songs would creep into the playlists of the Hartford and New Haven-based rock stations I’d listen to in my formative years. “Reeling in the Years” couldn’t hope to have the same visceral impact as “Something I Learned Today” on the fifteen-year-old Reagan-era me. Somewhere in adulthood, though, the sound, sensibility, and vibe of Steely Dan’s music “clicked” with me, as did later-in-life enthusiasms like Leonard Cohen, Bob Dylan, and jazz. Steely Dan’s records often hit the turntable in my house now, and two years ago I bought Fagen’s Cheap Xmas career retrospective boxset, one of my favorite things to listen to in a hotel room when I’m far from home.

Several of the essays in Eminent Hipsters touch on radio personalities Fagen listened to as a kid growing up in New Jersey; the title song of his first solo album The Nightfly is a portrait of a late night DJ in that mold, and Fagen—who I have since learned is reclusive and has suffered stage fright!—appears on the cover as the titular character, one of the few times he appears on any front-cover artwork. After listening to the first half of the Audible, I go home and put Cheap Xmas on, and as usual when absorbing the work of an artist I’m not familiar with, I seek a more immersive experience through secondary sources. Google, in this case, and I’m soon clicking through Wikipedia pages on him, his band, and his albums—my first page is the one for The Nightfly. I went there first because I wanted to know what the first track of the album, “I.G.Y.”, stood for—for whatever reason, my mind plugged “I Get You” into the acronym for the first two or three times I listened to it, so I’m pleasantly surprised to discover it stands for “International Geophysical Year”, which Wikipedia later tells me is the period between July 1957 to Christmas 1958, and was an international scientific project in which 67 countries participated in. Despite being a student and aficionado, or so I thought, of fifties culture and fifties astro-culture especially, I’m embarrassed to admit I’d never heard of the IGY before—both Sputnik 1 and Explorer 1 were IGY projects. My appreciation of Fagen increased, my overall knowledge and worldliness increased, and I was flush with the joys of new discovery. Reading a little further on The Nightfly, I saw that the song “Green Flower Street” is a nod to the jazz standard “On Green Dolphin Street”. I tripped on that fact, slightly, if only because I didn’t recognize “On Green Dolphin Street” as being a jazz standard. I figured I’d probably heard it at some point, but the melody didn’t spring to mind.

Speaking of mind-springs, here’s where I’m going to veer way off the narrative road I’ve established and drop some thought you might find so off-putting that you avert your eyes, close this blog, and never return. I wouldn’t blame you; I’d probably feel the exact same way if a voice I’d hear previously as being relatively sane suddenly flies off into crazyville and wants to take me with it. But here goes!

I believe I have psychic powers.

Specifically, I believe I have not only a mild precognitive ability, but that I also can subtly influence the outcome of the future events.

Still with me? Here’s the problem—this ability—at least how I perceive it—isn’t something I can turn on or off; it isn’t a “wild talent” like in a classic Stephen King novel or comic book. I don’t think it had anything to do with the onset of puberty, an excess of hormones, stress, or altered states of consciousness. It isn't psychometry, but it isn't fully random either. It must be triggered. I think I’ve identified the trigger, partially, at least. Basically, if I see or hear a word or a phrase that was previously unknown to me in completely different contexts twice within a span of a few days, I can anticipate a “precognitive event” before long. It has to be the same word or phrase, and it has to be in completely different contexts. So reading “I.G.Y.” and then “International Geophysical Event” in the same essay would not trigger anything, nor would reading “International Geophysical Event” three times in the same article. There are probably some other stipulations about the context and the word or phase itself that I haven't figured out; I don’t believe the first couple times I heard a word like “chipotle” did anything for me.

Additionally, I'm not predicting major world events. I've yet to be able to steer people away from calamity; I'm not like Johnny Smith in The Dead Zone seeing apocalyptic scenarios caused by a  future President (at least not with my psychic abilities). The future events I "see"--if that is what I'm doing--are only very personal glimpses into my own future. 

Make sense? No, I don’t think so either. And I've read those wonderful books on cognitive biases You Are Not So Smart and You Are Now Less Dumb by David McRaney, and what I'm describing exhibits several of the biases and fallacies he describes so beautifully. But... reality is just a construct anyway, man, and we all employ different architects. On the average, I have zero to one of these events ("delusions", if it makes you feel better) a year—I have had maybe fifteen my whole life. On at least three of those occasions, I believe my having seen the future event allowed me to influence its outcome. 

So why mention this now, when we were having such a nice conversation about Donald Fagen’s work? I happened to be listening to The Nightfly through headphones while reading the Wikipedia article, and when I was done I set my tablet aside a picked up a book I had bought last month at NECon, Stalking the Nightmare by Harlan Ellison. I was thrilled to discover that the introduction was written by Stephen King; the book was published in 1982 (same year as The Nightfly was released!!!), and while I love just about all things King, I especially love his 80’s writing—that’s when he began warping my mind in earnest—and so finding a fragment new to me was a thrilling surprise.

But then on page nine I read this:

Weirdness #1

So, I figure after reading that I’m quite likely going to have a precognitive event. And yes, all the while I’m thinking—maybe I’m just ignorant, and everyone in my age bracket knows what the International Geophysical Year was, or I’m a dullard who has been exposed to the concept dozens of times before but never let it sink in through that thick skull to penetrate my brain-mud. Whatever. I keep reading, because Ellison’s own forward is up next, and I enjoy his biographical material as much if not more than his fiction.

And another nine pages later I read this:

Weirdness #2

It is interesting, for the moment, just to imagine the probabilities and synchronicities needing to happen to create these supposed conditions for precognition. Skeptic at heart, and in my head, I consider the vast amounts of culture I consume and how that influences the odds of me running into previously unknown words or phrases on a regular basis. But when I add the timeline elements into the mix in this specific incidence—what weird confluence caused me to pick that particular book (and it was off the NECon 5 bucks a bag table, which was like a rugby scrum with competitive consumers), but then even weirder to not read or even open it until the very same day I listen to The Nightfly, and then read those passages within moments of first discovering them on Wikipedia? And by the way, Stalking the Nightmare will be the 100^th book I’ve read this year (unless I finish listening to Eminent Hipsters first; I count Audibles). I’m not positive, but I don’t think any of those ninety-nine books prior mention the International Geophysical Event, nor do I think I’ve heard it in any of the songs I’ve listened to or the movies or television I’ve watched (although full disclosure—the Eric Dolphy recording of “On Green Dolphin Street” exists in my music database after all, nestled among another 79, 751 tracks). 

Maybe it isn’t so strange after all; 1982 would have been the 25^th anniversary of the IGY; maybe there were celebrations, news magazine profiles, articles galore, and maybe at 13 I was too ignorant to have noticed any of them. But maybe that anniversary somehow inflamed and inspired both Fagen and King, or both King and Ellison had heard the Fagen album, had discussed it even, and so the ghost of influence was transferred to their individual work on Stalking the Nightmare.

Who knows? And, more importantly, who other than me cares?

That’s it, end of story. For today. I figure I’m moments away from launching into some Nostradamus-level future-gazing. I’m feeling the urge to write up a few quatrains, actually. If you see me post about fleeing the country, avoiding certain brands of snack foods, or investing heavily in coastal real estate, you might want to act accordingly.

* * * * *

Postscript #1 Interesting that another essay in Eminent Hipsters contains commentary on Philip K. Dick, L. Ron Hubbard, John W. Campbell, and A.E. Van Vogt, writers who may have harbored para-psychological ideas at least as crackpot as my own. They were all featured extensively in the seventh book I read this year, Astounding by Alec Nevala-Lee, a history of the Golden Age of science fiction. Once that synapse fired, I figured I might have read about the International Geophysical Year within the pages of that book—that crew was all writing then and certainly would have been interested. A quick flip through the index yields International Astronomical Union, but no IGY. Curiouser and curiouser.

One of the characters in these books also claims to possess telepathetic powers. If my own story didn't scare you away--or even if it did--you might enjoy them. They can be found HERE

Books I Read in 2018

I read one hundred and sixty three books in 2018. I'm not saying this to impress anyone, as though the ability to sit for long hours and read should be considered an accomplishment. If anything, the sheer volume of my 2018 reading should be an alarming statistic to anyone who knows me, because it is clear evidence of all the things I wasn't doing. I typically read around a hundred books a year (I count graphic novels and the fantasy & SF art books I collect, and I also give myself credit for books I toss after fifty pages, like I did eight times in 2018), and so to hit a "personal best" in quantity is really just an indicator that I was either dealing with Oumuamua (see my year-end blog post) or engaging in aggressive avoidance strategies. An article from April of this year suggests the average American reads 12 books a year, so I did the work for another twelve people. Your welcome.

I read a number of series detective novels, which I love, and they go down easy enough that I could sometimes read two a day. I read the entire Stephen Greenleaf Marshall Tanner series, a bunch of Donald Westlake novels, and about half of the K.C. Constantine Mario Balzic novels, a few of the John Connolly Charlie Parker books, and two Doc Savage novels. I read the entire Patrick O'Brian Aubrey & Maturin series over the summer, mostly floating in my pool, which I think is twenty novels and one that he died before he could complete.

In July I went to NECon, and came home with a massive book haul, most of which I read before the leaves even started to turn. A whole bunch of Ramsey Campbell, a couple from Michael McDowell, three or four Dean Koontz books from the eighties, Clive Barker's first and third of the Books of Blood. At NECon I donated to and won an auction to benefit Trans Helpline, and the prize was a nice collection of fifteen or so screenwriting books, most of which I read over the September and October, and promptly got to work on my first screenplay in November.

I didn't read many books by friends and acquaintances this year, shockingly, but all of those I read were stellar (thank Cthulhu). Michael Rowe's Wild Fell, Gemma Files' We Will All Go Down Together, (I buy many Chizine books; I also read David Nickle's Volk but we've never met), Laird Barron's The Croning, and John McIlveen's Hannahwhere, all excellent people I've met at NECon. I also read Joe Hill's The Fireman last year and I went to a NECon he attended but I was too shy to introduce myself. I read three of his dad's books this year--Creepshow, Carrie, and Elevation, but I've never been in the same room as him. I did trade a couple emails with Owen once, though. I read two of Kim Newman's books, and those always are among my reading highlights of the year, and I read Patrick McGrath's fantastic new book The Wardrobe Mistress.

I read less science fiction this year than usual--one each from Thomas Disch (who, like McGrath, I met when I was at UConn), Doris Piserchia, Roger Zelazny, Bruce Sterling, and Norman Spinrad. I reread Patricia Geary's Strange Toys, and a couple of those really thin old Richard Matheson short story collections. 

I read some nonfiction as well, some business books, Philip Pullman's--scratch that, Sir Philip Pullman's--excellent essay collection Daemon Voices, What Makes a Masterpiece, a couple books on true hauntings and urban legends, Beyond the Map, and all the aforementioned screenwriting books. 

The last book I read last year was John Hodgman's Vacationland which was the funniest book I read last year.

The most affecting work I read last year was the one whose photo I posted above, Book of Souls by Jack Ketchum, who died in January of this year and who I was very fortunate to have known by his real name, Dallas Mayr, having met him at a Borderlands Bootcamp and also having been able to spend time with him at various NECons. I'd read much of Jack's fiction, but had somehow missed this short collection of his personal essays, which I bought and read the week he died. He was a generous, gracious man and I will miss him.

If you've never read Dallas's work before--and shame on you--read Book of Souls and then read The Girl Next Door back to back, and please send me the selfie of your head exploding.

What I Did Over My Summer Vacation

Part of it, anyway. I went to NECon, a Writers' conference held every summer in Rhode Island. I've been going for a few years now with my pal, the writer and artist Matthew Dow Smith (currently working his magic with Doctor Who), and I always look forward to this event and to get a chance to catch up with friends, meet new people, and socialize with some of my heroes. This year I moderated a panel: "Dark YA Fiction: Get Them While They Are Young". My panel was stocked with talent--F. Paul Wilson, Jim Moore, Chris Golden and filmmaker Mark Steensland, whose middle grade debut Behind the Bookcase comes out next fall from Delacorte Press. The panel was just one of the many highlights of a fun an inspiring weekend.

This was another:




Every year I play cards at the con and compete for medals that are designed by the con's Artist Guest of Honor. This years' guest was Steven Gilberts, whose work I adore, and I was lucky enough to win the bronze medal that he designed, above. I also bought one of his prints of a painting called Mechanics of Autumn Discourse. You can check out much of Steve's awesome artwork at Steve's websiteHERE.

Conventional Wisdon

A quick update on the NECON fun--I did not repeat in the Hi Lo Jack tournament, being handed a first round defeat. I'll be kicking myself all year for a hand I misplayed.

I did, however, get to appear on a panel called "Selling That First Novel", which was hosted by F. Paul Wilson. Mr. Wilson's newest novel BLOODLINE was published this week and should be purchased by you, today if at all possible. I got to share a table with Sarah Langan, Mary Sangiovanni, Rhodi Hawk and Nate Kenyon (you should buy their books as well), and we all discussed our experiences breaking into the field.

We talked about some of the things we did to get our work "out there", and I got a few laffs when I related a true story about a conversation I had with Paul prior to me selling anything. I attended the first Borderlands workshop where Paul was an instructor, and as an instructor he had to read a section of my work prior to the class. When it came time for Paul to offer me a critique and advice on the work, he looked me square in the eye and said, "I can't help you."

Only later did I realize that it was a compliment.

I think.

(Maybe you had to be there...)

The conference was fun, I enjoyed reconnecting with old friends and making some new ones. The absolute highlight was when Gahan Wilson drew a portrait of me in a book I asked him to sign. I wonder if Hyperion will let me use the portrait in place of my author photo for Generation Dead? As promised, I ran amok in the dealers room, buying stacks of yellowing paperbacks from the seventies. Other than the Gahan Wilson books (I bought two) my favorite scores were a book called Summer Sketches, by one of my favorite authors, Dan Simmons, and Kiddology, a fascinating book of art and biography from artist guest-of-honor Tom Kidd.

I'll be heading to my first ever World Fantasy Convention in early November, which I'm looking forward to as a number of my literary heroes are scheduled to be in attendence. And I might even have some promotional material for GENERATION DEAD which I can scatter around the conference center. You should go, too. Just don't buy any of the mouldering paperbacks from the sixties and seventies until I get to check them out, okay?