Writing

Jimmy Buffett and a Meditation on Heroes

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He’s the admiral of the ocean
the lone eagle in the sky.
He gave me my first sextant
and he taught me how to fly
I saw him through my telescope
on a cloudless night in June
as he rested between voyages
at his Beach House on the Moon

– Jimmy Buffett, “Beach House on the Moon”

There is no internship for becoming a writer. All we have is the writers and creators we love, their body of work, the will to dive into it voraciously and- ideally- add our own selves to the mix. Back in high school, one of my teachers encouraged all of us to find our literary “genealogies.” We should pick our favorite writers, find their favorite writers and read all their work, then find their favorite writers, and so dive deep into the sources of our own styles.

At the time Mr. Murphy charged us with this task, the majority of my literary heroes were long dead and their heroes were Early Modern or even antiquity. The only remotely contemporary writers I enjoyed at the time were Kerouac and Langston Hughes.

As I sit in a thankfully unfamiliar dive bar patio sipping a memorial margarita, I know that one of my influences has passed on and, in a strange way, I’m glad I never got to meet him.

Fins Up, Parrotheads.

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A Needed Break

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It rained last night. The tiny puddles on the furniture of the screened-in patio tell that clearly enough, and there is still the smell of petrichor in the air beneath the smell of pine in the pre-dawn humidity. I’m back on the East Coast, visiting my in-laws in South Carolina, and the weather of the southeast is both oppressive and comforting- like an old friend who can’t help but keep mentioning how much both of you have changed.

As the previous two weeks of work came to a close- preparing for a massive event, the increasing tempo of business, and preparing my small team (and the kitchen itself) for my absence- I dragged myself into the first of two too-cheap-for-their-price plane seats and quoted the Magnus Archives again. “I have done my work well, and none may ask more of me.”

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An Update of Sorts

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“I’ve got a school boy heart, a novelist’s eye,
stout sailors legs and a license to fly.”

– Jimmy Buffet, “School Boy Heart”

If there’s one thing I’ve learned about how I manage my creative life, it’s that I still tend to have too many irons in the fire at once and that choosing which projects to work on feels like picking favorites. I always wind up emotionally attached and guilty.

I’m sitting next to my friend Tom’s truck, having just scarfed down a weekend PREC and spent the better part of the morning exercising and deciding how best to move through the rest of the day. There are the typical chores to do, laundry and attending to the hot mess that is my nightstand in particular. The drive to socialize and avoid extended isolation as well, partially being allayed now with the warm sun, quiet company of a public space, and the classic blues and jazz coming through Tom’s speakers.

The will to write is strong, but the focus- or choice of focus rather- is not. Rereading some food writing has invigorated me, and writing this blog continues to at the very least be good practice and keeping me in the habit. I have several projects overdue, however, and I need to hunker down and pick one of them- ANY of them- to lock myself into.

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Sandwiches I Have Known and Loved

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They can be basic. They can be opulent. They can be artisanal, antique, unwieldy, oysgeputz, offensive, unfathomable, and unconquerable. But they are always, unquestionably, themselves- and require no explanation.

Sandwiches are beautiful things- a convenience food par excelence– and here are some of my favorites.

John Montagu, the 4th Earl of Sandwich- aristocrat, gambling addict, and apparently a culinary genius.
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Please Don’t “Engage” With My Work.

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I have read a few books about management, business, and leadership, so I can tell you this without reservation: If you start sounding like your read business books in normal conversation, 1. I stop taking you seriously, and 2. I will sign you up for a Turing Test.

A little dramatic, but I have my reasons- and those reasons have to do with suspecting you got nothing out of those books.
Why do I suspect that? Because you just put on the language rather than making it a part of you.

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