SEPTEMBER
September. My birthday month and one steeped in transition. Holding two seasons within its thirty days, September and its fading light radiate nostalgia for a carefree summer—but the persistent heat readies us for brisk mornings and a break from the fucking mosquitoes.
September found me writing and reading voraciously. I finished the narrative outline for the script, only to have a bathtub epiphany break the story arc.
I like fractures like that, though. They solve problems, sharpen focus, and give solid direction. I feel good about where it’s going.
I made a point to read great books, books I’ll read again. Like Steppenwolf by Herman Hesse, a story about an intellectual recluse who disdains the bourgeoisie, grapples with his duality and seeks joy in places he thought he’d never go.
I also read The Grifters by Jim Thompson, Night Gaunts by Joyce Carol Oates, and a spate of books by William Gay—Provinces of Night, Little Sister Death, and The Long Home.
William Gay holds a special place in my heart—a Tennessee writer with acute sensitivity who paints a haunting picture of the place I call home. His prose bewitches me, and I know, really know, his characters and locations. I’ve hiked those worn mountains and seen those wizened faces. I know that particular drawl.
If you ask me, Gay is the sovereign of the “modern” Southern Gothic. And yes, I know the rabid C.M. bros would challenge that, but who cares?
September was a good month for music, too. I saw Stereolab with Memorials, a show that made me realize that punk is a state of mind. It’s not always sneering and violent. Sometimes it’s quiet, thoughtful, furtive.
That theme has permeated my thoughts and actions lately, especially when chaos and confusion reign supreme.
All I can say is don’t fall for it—it’s meant to distract and divide. Find your resistance, whether quiet or loud, and move forward, keeping your eye on the prize.
I also saw Five Eight deliver a stellar performance in Roswell, Georgia. This band has loads of charisma, and it’s a treat to see longtime friends playing together and having a great time on stage.
Finally, the month ended with a first for me—I went motorcycle riding with my mom!
My fella loaded his Royal Enfield into the truck, and we took it to Tennessee. We followed my folks in their Honda Goldwing down Highway 421, through Holston Mountain, Shady Valley, Mountain City, and ended up at Watauga Lake, the infamous route known as The Snake, known for its breathtaking scenery and exhilarating curves.
And let me tell you, The Snake delivered! Pretty sure we’ll be taking the bike more often, especially now that fall is here. Speaking of which, I’ve got a stack of reads and movies for the spooky season that I’ll share soon.
Thanks for reading, and take care.
