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Good night all…..

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Our journey ended with fields of dandelions my most beloved wild flower….

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Happiness in Istanbul. Shot by Jackson Smith. May you all feel a bit of joy today!!!

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As the song grows, develops and gains confidence I will send you another video. But I thought it may be interesting to hear as we all attempt new things and sometimes have to suffer the growing pains of the process publicly. But of course we prevail, don’t give up and keep our sense of humor.

So far in Vienna I’ve been concentrating on revisiting The Third Man filming locations. Also the graves of A few master musicians. I’ve been a little frazzled from travel but have had amazing moments. The young people of Istanbul. Sardines and a wild sea in Brighton, and the Hall of Philosophy and the cafes in Vienna. Just sending a few snapshots before I turn in, wishing you all good health and the strength to maintain peace of mind.

I will send more soon. Goodnight everybody

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Beneath are shots from Riverside Church to celebrate the 30th anniversary of Democracy Now . Tony and Bruce lead the way to People have the Power. Stay strong and healthy and vigilant.

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https://www.democracynow.org/live/democracy_now_30th_anniversary_event

TONIGHT: Monday, March 23, 2026

Join Amy Goodman, Juan González, Nermeen Shaikh and the entire Democracy Now! family for a special live streaming event at the historic Riverside Church to celebrate 30 years of independent journalism.

Special Guests & Performers

* Legendary Activist and Scholar Angela Davis

* Rock Legend Patti Smith

* Michael Stipe with Aaron Dessner

* Pulitzer Prize winning Writer and Poet Mosab Abu Toha

* Renowned Playwright V (formerly Eve Ensler)

* Hurray for the Riff Raff

* And more!

https://www.democracynow.org/live/democracy_now_30th_anniversary_event

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Somehow the video ending while I was still talking. Mostly saying nothing just trying to take a picture from my window. Really just saying hi, snowed in today. Oh I remember. I was saying how much my mom loved watching the Oscars. I am thinking of her and her birthday which is very soon, March 19th.

So happy blizzard before spring. Hopefully I will get home tomorrow, but if not I am happy to be in Minnesota. So, let it snow….

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THE DARK BLOT Le Point noir He who has gazed against the sun sees everywhere he looks thereafter, palpitating on the air before his eyes, a smudge that will not go away. So in my days of still-youth, my audacity, I dared look on the splendor momentarily. The dark blot on my greedy eyes has come to stay. Since when, worn like a badge of mourning in the sight of all around me where my eye may chance to light, I see the dark smudge settle upon everyone. Forever thus between my happiness and me? Alas for us, the eagle only, only he can look, and not be hurt, on splendor and the sun. Translated by RICHMOND LATTIMORE

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My retelling of a Dr. Seuss masterpiece was inexplicably cut off. I will return in the morrow with the ending. For us there is still tomorrow. For Alex Pretti all his tomorrows were terrifyingly taken away.

Tonight there is snow and contemplation, love and prayers for the people of Minnesota. We mourn the state of things, we offer condolences, we stand together.

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I am set to travel and will be back Saturday. For now I am sending you the audio of prelude of Bread of Angels. I will be answering your questions about it in Michigan if I am able. In any event you will hear from me again soon.

Thank you for all your commentary so far. I’ll be rereading them and speaking about any new questions you have sent. Below is a little picture with my sister. A true angel. Sending all good wishes as I go….

The physical book

The Prelude

The Age of Reason

Thank you everyone. I’m looking forward….

Have a contented day tomorrow, hold on to the good of being, and rest if possible. Before that, listen to Jimi ring in 1970…..

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Just a brief dreamy message. Yes I’m kind of in a dream state today, but permissible perhaps on one’s birthday. Still recovering a bit but happy to be here and hoping to get productive again very soon. Sometimes we just need a little rest. Have a good day everyone. I will stop by again tomorrow with full swing energy.

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And have safe, happy and heathy holidays

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Have a good night everyone. Sorrow is with us as is rage but serenity is also within the folds of the night.

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A clip from the improv in Land from the Beacon. Warning: strong language.

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Happy to be back, just saying hello and figuring the future.

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We flew from Oslo to Paris. From light snow to light rain. We played the Olympia last night. One can sense the ghosts of Piaf and Jim Morrison there. I am resting today, a bit tired but our jobs have been great, or rather the people have been great.

I will be returning to New York soon. I will be signing all your pre-orders in the U.S. as promised. I’m supposed to receive my first copy couriered today. If I do I will make a little video. I’m very excited to see it.

I am appalled at the shifts in my country, the opulence and hypocrisy. It’s haunting. But I will do my jobs as best in my ability and do whatever I can to speak out. Our concerts have a dual responsibility: to excite and incite. To express joy and outrage.

Now I will prepare for the tasks at hand, sending a wave and a smile to all.

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I had a technical difficulty so I am resending. Here are a few pictures with many good wishes. I will see you soon….

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I wanted to send a few catch up photos from Dublin. The first days were filled with wind and rain, and a wild storm which I greatly appreciated, as I have a fondness for storms. The full moon was also approaching so there was a collision of several natural factors that caused me to pace about like an old mama wolf.

Then a shift to mild wind over the Irish Sea. I read a new translation of Tokyo Express and mostly daydreamed. When the sky calmed I visited the Joyce Tower. James Joyce stayed there when young and used it as the site in the opening chapter of Ulysses. The tower houses his trunk and death mask. The narrow winding stairs are challenging but I loved imagining the young Joyce mounting them. Sorry I was so fidgety making the video. Probably preconcert energy. I will send pictures from Madrid next. Horses will then greet the people of Bergamo, Italy. See you then….

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I had no idea there was a child’d drawing of the Liberty Bell at the bottom of the box. What a wonderful surprise. Happy to share the happy moment of discovery with you all. Take care, see you tomorrow……

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Well that was a bit convoluted. I think it’s because I feel weird when I seem to be doing a book commercial but then again it may be useful for some of you. I am also still on a terrible sleep schedule. But I just got back Sunday. New York was a traffic and security mess because of the United Nations Summit. Although it took some time convincing security I needed to see my dentist located on a heavily blocked street didn’t bother me at all. But the embarrassing narcissistic tirade of the president speaking at the assembly is hard to shake let alone swallow. Along with all the pain of daily existence. Guns and more guns. Greed opulence the plight of innocent hostages the genocide of a people. The horror of war, the growing scourge of censorship, and the twisting of so called religious values. The most valuable ingredient of all faiths is love. Spiritual food cannot be offered or consumed without it. I feel no real love radiating from those who are representing us. Thus we must do all we can to send it forth doubly on our own.

https://www.mcnallyjackson.com/bread-angels-memoir-signed-preorder

That is the pre-order link. Thank you all for your support. More to come.

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Translation by Wallace Fowlie

Below is the book that includes a translation I like as well. The first translation I ever read, Louise Varese, but I can’t find it online. The book is worth having.

And here is a glimpse of the Delacroix:

I am quite tired so I will report again tomorrow. Have a good night. I have a few more photos and another translation for tomorrow…..

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My guitar is out of tune, the strings are dead and it hurt to play, my voice is hoarse, yet the air quality today is very good and I feel lucky to be alive.

This offering, however flawed, delivered in late afternoon with a heavy heart, is for the hostages, the children, the land polluted by bombs, the Palestinian people, and the journalists, a lifeline to truth, who died in a make-shift tent on a brief respite together.

Anas al-Sharif, a prominent correspondent.

Mohammed Qreiqeh, also a correspondent.

Ibrahim Zaher, a camera operator.

Moamen Aliwa, a camera operator.

Mohammed Noufal, an assistant.

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Jeff’s vocal can be heard toward the end. I will return soon….

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Spheres of Generosity……

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It was heartening to hear from so many of you in my last post. I really loved hearing where you were writing from, connecting with so many unexpected places. Today I reported on the happy woes of the writer. I suspect many of you are writers, secretly or openly, so I thought it good to share a source of potential misery for of all writers.

I am now going to take a long walk, which is advisable to all who are able. Below in the jumble of new pages and old coffee cups are the two books I spoke of. Please take care of yourself and I will see you soon.

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I just decided to include Waltraud’s beautiful Leibestod at La Scala in December 2007. The staging proved to be one of the most exquisite things I ever witnessed. So perhaps spend some time with her unsurpassable performance.

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I took some urban snapshots in Kyoto. There are many beautiful shrines to say nothing of the restored temple of the golden pavilion. But I also like some of the older architecture and random streets. I am about to catch the train back to Tokyo so I will send a few pictures and write more later. Also I am including the coffee place I fell in love with but it was always closed. My crazy luck….

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This video message did not go through yesterday. Now I have landed. I am resting tonight and then off to Korea. So I will send another message tomorrow. I have taken a few books that I will talk about tomorrow, minimal packing and a pair of sneakers.

Once again I am hoping more Universities take a stand against the present administrations attempt to control our education system.

I hope everyone is well and staying mentally and emotional strong Tomorrow morning I go to Korea i will send messages through our technological bottle.

For now Im watching Full metal alchemist hoping sleep will soon arrive. Sweet dreaming everyone.

Just thought you may appreciate this. Take care of yourselves. Drink plenty of water yet remembering those who are thirsty. See you soon.

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It’s raining the trees are flowering can’t stop sneezing the people took to the streets and whether there is hope or not there exists a craving for social justice.

I can therefore I am…

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Back from Milan, just a little lagged, feeling happy to be alive.

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Unfortunately I could not locate the Genet essay in English on Rembrandt. I will do some further research. The small Hanuman edition is rare and expensive so I will keep looking. In the meantime hope everyone is faring well. There is a lot of flue around so keep your immune system bolstered. I will be back soon.

Here is a photo of Jack’s Hotel where Genet died on April 14, 1986. My sister Linda took the picture while I was tracking Genet’s last days.

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I wasn’t sure what I’d be talking about and realized I was just happy to talk to you when I was indeed feeling better. Here a couple of pictures from Selby Gardens, a version of Within you and Without you and an old fashioned trailer for Death in Venice and much love to all…..

This was my version of George Harrison’s song from 12…….

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I could not access the link but here is an address below to find it.

Wishing everyone a beautiful sleep. Farewell David, you are still very much present and loved in my small expanding corner of the universe….

https://faroutmagazine.co.uk/patti-smith-david-lynch-interviewed-each-other/

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Just taking a short break to say hello, and sending you a few snapshots of my location and some good series to watch or ignore. Sending good wishes to all.

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I have been working all day and soon to turn in, but wanted to say hello while I am still 77. Tomorrow I will be on 78 speed…

All good wishes to all, with a loving salute to President Jimmy Carter….

Below is his famous energy crisis speech from 1977. One that was sadly not heeded.

https://www.americanrhetoric.com/speeches/jimmycartercrisisofconfidence.htm

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As You see I am in South Jersey spending time with my dear sister Linda. We had a nice meal of quinoa with parsley from her garden, scallions and seasonings, as well as homemade hummus. We talked about the Arc of the Covenant and watched funny Kristin Wig clips; we have quite a range.

It is Tom Verlaine’s seventy-fifth birthday and he is much on my mind. His Marquee Moon is almost full and I can’t help think of him on some beats celestial journey.

Below are some pictures from my window traveling by train and car. Wishing you all a pleasant good night til I stop by again….

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I accidentally left my little speech on the podium during the book fair but someone caught the tail end so I’m posting it for you. Right now my editor Betsy Lerner is speaking of her new book Shred Sisters, then I have another duty. Meantime I took a walk and got a few palm tree shots.

Oh, last night I did bump into a couple of celebrated figures. I will include them. Now I have to get prepared for my next task. Sending good wishes to all….

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I am just saying hello from Miami where I have duties at the Miami Book Fair. I am going to sit and write my speech and take a walk.

Below are the beauteous invasive species…..

I will return tomorrow with palm trees…..

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Just stopping by to say how much I appreciated your well wishes yesterday. I am going to have dinner with Lenny, Jesse and Alec, so I only have a few minutes. On a completely unrelated note I looked at my pictures to see what I was doing on today’s date through the years and found two nice pictures by Steven Sebring. We were visiting William Blakes’s grave. I took some Polaroids as well. Well, I have to go. Have a good evening, be back soon. Bye…..

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In the next couple of days I will send some pictures from my comings and goings. I am just going to include a few pictures of dioramas in the Field Museum in Chicago. Strangely still, nostalgic and perhaps otherworldly.

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Just a moment of levity. Happy halloween everybody.

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I was doing so many things at the same time that I accidentally neglected to send this post. So here it is. Just a lot of this and that. And I remembered the third big event for 2025. My new book will be published. Feels like a miracle.

Below is a shot of Betsy Lerner’s new book. And a harried shot of me racing toward my deadline, heating coffee and plowing away. Taken in my kitchen by my great friend the Artist Steven Sebring.

Sending good wishes to all and prayers for all who are suffering in our troubled world. Please take care of yourselves. Today I have good work to do and am feeling optimistic.

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Come, come, whoever you are.

Wonderer, worshipper, lover of leaving.

It doesn’t matter.

Ours is not a caravan of despair.

Come, even if you have broken your vow

a thousand times

Come, yet again, come, come.

Happy birthday Rumi

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I have a plethora of duties but made you a little phone video out my window.

It is 90 degrees and I am staying at my wonderful desk before boarding a boat to the next duty. I will send a report later…Good wishes to everyone.

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Happy Full Moon everyone……

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Wishing you all a good night…

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Happy August I am still battling a bit with jet lag but all is well. Just saying hello and saluting Jerry and Hermann on their birthdays, with gratitude for their good works.

A couple of suggestions. If you like Instagram, one of our subscribers @fredericward, posts lovely meditations and pictures on the occasions of the birth or passing of many of our beloved poets, artists, activists and friends. Today he honors both of them. Also today on Rimbaud’s Lost Papers olivertompkinsray@substack.com Oliver Ray gives us a rare glimpse of the book he is writing, all his posts are illuminating.

I will be writing more soon, I am finishing another little poem to send my subscribers. It’s very hot in the city today, so I am sticking around, listening to the Grateful Dead and perhaps reread a few chapters of Billy Budd.

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I am back. A bit jet lagged but happy. Just wanted to say hello and send a few snapshots of our last city visited. I love Vienna, and I was fortunate enough to stay in the beautiful, historic Sacher Hotel. Since they all seem to know I love the city’s ferris wheel, made famous by a wonderful scene in Carol Reed’s The Third Man, I was surprised by an all chocolate welcome.

I hope everyone is faring well. I will be back tomorrow with more pictures, and perhaps a little more wide awake. Thank you for waiting for me…..

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FUGALFOX WEBSITE

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Yesterday we played the Bospop Festival in Weert, Netherlands. Janine Bubb shot some video from behind the scenes. Since you have been with me on all stages of learning this song I am including her footage. Truthfully I entered in the wrong place and the heavy humidity was challenging. Still a work in progress, but that is how we get better, by practicing but more importantly just by doing it.

I appreciate all of your encouragement, that energy from afar gets me through difficult moments. The sky grew heavy and dark and it began to rain at the end of People have the Power. Then we got in a van and drove to Bruges. I will do a Bruges report later, it’s a beautiful city.

A few rain shots below and a surprising hotel lobby…

I will report soon.

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It’s the early hours in Dublin and as I am on the other side of jet lag wanted to say hello. Today, the 27th of June is my daughter Jesse’s birthday. Though I miss her she is always with me in heart and mind. I look forward to see what she will write today on her Substack.

We have our second concert tonight and I am well looking forward to greeting the people of Dublin. The other night in Brighton I was moved to tears by the youthful enthusiasm, singing along and the raucous support. I will keep you posted…

Here are a few pictures, hope everyone is well. Over and out from Dublin….

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I’m sitting here trying to learn a song and thought to share my elementary process as well as the song itself. I hope everyone is faring well and I will update you on my progress. Today is kind of warm out and something in the air that is aggravating allergies. Most likely smoke residue from neighboring wildfires. But all is well and hope everyone is getting ready to greet the summer solstice….

Below is Bob Dylan’s lyrics and recoRding of the song in question. The man with the long black coat. A moody evocative song from Oh Mercy….

The man in the long black coat

Crickets are chirpin' the water is highThere's a soft cotton dress on the line hangin' dryWindow wide open African treesBent over backwards from a hurricane breezeNot a word of goodbye not even a noteShe gone with the man in the long black coat

Somebody seen him hangin' aroundAt the old dance hall on the outskirts of townHe looked into her eyes when she stopped him to askIf he wanted to dance he had a face like a maskSomebody said from the bible he'd quoteThere was dust on the man in the long black coat

Preacher was talking there's a sermon he gaveHe said every man's conscience is vile and depravedYou cannot depend on it to be your guideWhen it's you who must keep it satisfiedIt ain't easy to swallow it sticks in the throatShe gave her heart to the man in the long black coat

There are no mistakes in life some people sayIt is true sometimes you can see it that wayBut people don't live or die people just floatShe went with the man in the long black coat

There's smoke on the water it's been there since JuneTree trunks uprooted beneath the high crescent moonFeel the pulse and vibration and the rumbling forceSomebody is out there beating on a dead horseShe never said nothing there was nothing she wroteShe gone with the man in the long black coat

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3

Today is June 5th, the 50th anniversary of the recording of Hey Joe/ Piss Factory at Electric Lady Studios. It was our first single and pathed the way to the making of our first album Horses, also recorded at Electric Lady. Below is the B side, where you can hear some of our pianist, the late Richard Sohl’s stellar playing. Lenny and I had a nice day together and he stopped by so we could say hello to you all. It’s very heartening to have a friend that has been by your side for over half a century. I hope everyone is doing well. I am going to Detroit tomorrow for the reopening of the old Detroit Metro Train Station, but will be back Saturday to report.

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Today I am reading a passage from page 65 of the paperback version of Just Kids. It reminded me that my younger self experienced some of the same doubt concerning the validity of creating in the wake of so much suffering in our troubled world. It helped me to get back on track, perhaps it will be meaningful to you. A warm welcome to my new subscribers, with hopes that every one is faring well.

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Thank you for reading Patti Smith. This post is public so feel free to share it.

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Today we’re revisiting this passage helped me to find a solution for a writing dilemma. Perhaps this is a good day to solve solvable problems. Elsewise, take a walk, get some air, talk to the benevolent trees….

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Quite a grainy video but lo and behold not backwards. A few true colors of my childhood hero Gumby, and his fast friends. We are approaching the end of our Passenger M’s voyage. This is a longer piece and I have tried my best not to trip up.

Hoping all is well for you all….

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I had a busy day today in Brooklyn and now back home. Here is this evenings installment of The Coral Sea. And a few illustrations of my day. And I just remembered, Frylock is the French fry guy.

I will return tomorrow, wishing you all a good night….

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Easter Hymn by Alfred Edward Housman

If in that Syrian garden, ages slain,You sleep, and know not you are dead in vain,Nor even in dreams behold how dark and brightAscends in smoke and fire by day and nightThe hate you died to quench and could but fan,Sleep well and see no morning, son of man.

But if, the grave rent and the stone rolled by,At the right hand of majesty on highYou sit, and sitting so remember yetYour tears, your agony and bloody sweat,Your cross and passion and the life you gave,Bow hither out of heaven and see and save.

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And a very great multitude spread their garments in the way; others cut down branches from the trees, and strewed them in the way.   And the multitudes that went before, and that followed, cried, saying, Hosanna to the son of David: Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord; Hosanna in the highest.    And when he was come into Jerusalem, all the city was moved, saying, Who is this?  And the multitude said, This is Jesus the prophet of Nazareth of Galilee. Matthew 21.

This evening I would like to share that Janine Bub has provided a website for me, to offer her videos, photos, and news of Soundwalk Collective, new work, and dates of future tours. The site originates in Germany but bilingual. The website is:

https://ps.fugalfox.de

The weather is perfect in Braga. I wish everyone a beautiful night, the moon will be full, so look up.

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We are taking off, be back tomorrow……

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Below is the early English edition and newer Spanish edition of The Coral Sea. I will be reading it for my Subscribers beginning March 9th, Robert Mapplethorpe’s passing day, as well as newer poems for him.

I also including a few snaps from Mexico. Now I am going to have some purple sweet potatoes and head uptown, hopefully the rain will abate. I hope everyone is well. I am happy to be home but miss the multitude of birds singing and chirping in Mexico City.

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Today would be my 44th wedding anniversary. Fred and I were married on a leap year so it feels deeply nostalgic. The ivy beyond my windows here reminds me of our home in Michigan, an old stone country house covered with ivy. Tonight after my performance with Soundwalk, Lenny and I will do an acoustic version of Because the Night for Fred, who inspired the lyrics. Then People have the power, which Fred and I wrote, in honor of all the people filling the streets here in Mexico City preparing to vote. Hopefully I will be able to send some videos.

Well, rest period is over, have to go to work. Below are a couple pictures sent with all good wishes from the heart of Mexico City. I will send more later…..

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We might find it somewhat shocking to see a non reverse. But I also know how to just let it all stay backwards. That is our full moon quandary…

Have a good prime number night.

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It’s a dreamy kind of day. Not many words are flowing. Perhaps more tomorrow. but happy just to sit and talk happily about not too much.

Happy birthday Kurt Cobain. See you all soon….

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Earlier the three of us spent time on the beach, a nice contrast to the snow we left behind in the city.

Thank you everyone for stopping by. Thank you Jesse, for the pictures. Hoping everyone has a nice evening, tranquil yet uplifting.

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Hello everyone. Happy New Lunar Year. May the wood dragon be with you in a benevolent capacity. Above is the wondrous Meryl Streep speaking of her role as Mother Courage, including the lullaby for her children.

I have a job tonight so I will be brief. On Sunday Founding Members and Subscribers will receive The Jerusalem text. Happy year of the wood dragon, happy birthday to Bertolt Brecht. The new moon cannot be seen but is there smiling upon us all.

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Now I am switching gears and heading to Oliver Ray’s Substack: Rimbaud’s Lost Papers. He is a gifted writer with a unique and generous perspective, and has a nice surprise waiting for me there. You can find him on my list of recommendations or in the high Abyssinian plain, in search of a certain valise that only a diviner such as he might unearth.

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I am turning in early but made you a video. And now I am saying goodnight with the emphasis on good.

p.s. I like this guy, he seems very sincere.

Kind of quiet tonight, a good time to hang out. I’m working, but I noticed my mind was wandering and thought I would take a break to say hello, and introduce Half Magic. Speaking of half, this video looks half fading away, sorry about that.

Every once in a while I see a wisp of Cairo, perhaps more half magic, always startling, always appreciated. I suspect she will always be somewhere in the ether of my room, as this is where she truly lived to her last breath.

Today is MohammedAli’s birthday. I was startled to note that he was only around five years older than me. Once I was in an elevator with him at the Chelsea Hotel. He was a big fellow, with glowing skin and a warm yet mischievous smile. On his birthday I offer a quote of his that I have loved: It isn't the mountains ahead to climb that wear you out; it's the pebble in your shoe. I have found that a very heartening thought tramping through life. It gives one a mangle perspective. One can always sit on a rock, remove the shoe, shake it out and continue on.

Well, as I said, I wish you a happy night, I wish it twice. I wish love, comfort and safety for the children of the world. I wish it a thousand times.

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It’s after 10 and I am winding down at my work table, and thought to stop by. I made a little video which froze at the end so I was unable to finish my sentence and tell you what I would love to have. Truthfully, it was nothing altruistic or imaginative, quite simply, it was a mug of hot chocolate and a box of animal crackers.

Well, unfortunately I have neither at hand but perhaps tomorrow. But at least I can say goodnight. I noticed I somehow got ink all over my Robert ring finger. It’s messy business using a dipping pen. In any event, goodnight all, it was fun hanging out!

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Hello everybody,

I know this is a pretty rough video, kind of laconic and a lot of text message dinging, but too much perfection is never good for anyone. Below is my little presentation speech for Lily Gladstone. Daniel Day Lewis gave a very touching speech for Martin Scorsese for best director. I was happy to note he opened with quotes from Andrei Tarkovsky.

I hope everyone is well. Please strengthen your immune system, a lot is going around. I am boiling yellow onions, adding turmeric, black pepper, fresh ginger, and cinnamon. After straining it you might want honey or cayenne pepper. In any event take care of yourselves.

Below are my words for Lily:

LILY

At its paramount, the merging of art and activism provides the people with revolutionizing truth,  exposing what must be exposed and raising up what must be raised. Martin Scorsese’s film Killers of the Flower Moon presents an abysmal shard of American history, confronting our conscience with the collective experience of Indigenous People globally.  It pierces the vein of human weakness, greed, cowardice and betrayal. And what is more piercing than the face of Lily Gladstone, as the camera captures the shifting tones of her interior process, seamlessly embodying the courageous Mollie Burkhart. Whether off or on screen, like the new moon, she could be felt if not seen.

Filmmaking is vastly dependent on intense collaboration and all who have taken part in bringing this film to light should be commended. But sometimes an artist must stand alone and draw solely from herself. As Mollie, Lily’s sense of the space around and the rushing energy of her own blood can be felt in every gesture, every side glance, in the lift of her head, in the folding of her hands, in the burgeoning illness, mirroring the afflictions imposed on her people, coupled with her stamina to love, heal and quietly condemn.

Heritage, humor, intelligence, earthy sensuality. She drew from the many aspects of herself, infusing them within her spiritual sister, the Osage woman Mollie Burkhart, with dignity and grace.

It is with great honor that I am here to present the National Board of Review Award for Best Actress to the awesome LILY GLADSTONE.

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I am sitting in my room working on my manuscript, but took a break to say hello. While I did the sun appeared from the clouds and lit up my room. I thought that a good sign. The little bit of snow we received this weekend has melted away, but not the brief happiness for having seen it.

I am reading Poor Things and Sun and Steel. I’m excited to see the film and was happy that both Emma Stone and Lily Gladstone were recipients of the Golden Globe. My deep concerns for the intensifying of wars in our world occupy my thoughts. But still I must do my work and occasionally seek inspiring entertainment.

On the nutrition front, I have added purple sweet potatoes, fresh parsley, beets and a minimum amount of Celtic salt to my diet. Boiling onions and ginger together and letting it steep makes a good medicinal tea. Also taking a walk outside everyday despite the blustering wind. haha. If there is blustering wind.

On Verlaine’s passing day I will include his poem Through interminable land below. I like how he describes the snow as vague, as it seemed on Saturday. Happy New Year everyone, and much gratitude, as ever, to my Subscribers and Founding Members.

Through interminable land

Ennui of the plain,

Vague snow once again

Shimmers like sand.

The sky is copper

Devoid of any light,

You might almost gather

The moon had lived and died.

Floating clouds

Grey oak-trees lift

In near-by woods

Among the mists.

The sky is copper

Devoid of any light,

You might almost gather

The moon had lived and died.

Wheezing crow

You gaunt wolves too,

When north winds blow

How fare you?

Through interminable land

Ennui of the plain,

Vague snow once again

Shimmers like sand.

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It feels good to get back to work. I returned to the stage with some trepidation but my confidence, thanks to the support of the people, has returned. The video is courtesy of Janine Bubb. The rose on the screen was shot by Robert Mapplethorpe. Tomorrow, on my 77th birthday, we have one more concert. I will share some more video if you like.

Goodnight everyone, take care of yourself as we say farewell to 2023.

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And so this is Christmas and I am sitting at my worktable considering the various meanings of the holiday, whether spiritual, traditional or commercial. The aspect of giving, which is symbolized by the Three Wise Men’s offerings to the infant Jesus, the aspect of hope, personified by the Christ child, the light of the world. There are varying traditions, ranging from acts of charity, caroling, family dinners, listening for Santa’s reindeer, trimming the tree, and night walking in the falling snow. But of all things, when I was young, Christmas was a time of peace, humanitarian truce; a time of reflecting on the value of human life.

We are living in times when so many people are suffering, where there are no Christmas truces, and the way of the pilgrim has been denied. We feel helpless, but must maintain our concern for humanity, that is crying out. Cries that I can hear in my heart, even as I cross the street, safe and sound, on my way home.

P.S….The video is a snippet from our concert in Sienna, Italy, taken by Janine Bub. Hoping you and your loved ones are safe and happy. If you are able look up at the night sky to say hello to the last full moon of 2023. In New York it is obscured by a strange night fog, but can be felt. So many feelings, everywhere from every direction.

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Tomorrow I will give a Sienna report, the ancient captivating city of Simone Martini. Sending everyone all good wishes as we remember those less fortunate.

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So, I will see you later, with many many images of a handful of Italian cities…

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She has always been a great source of inspiration. She was not thought to be a perfect singer, but her depth of feeling, the way she expressed the inner narrative of an exquisite aria, was unique to her.

Having suffered much, she drew from her infinite well, conveying ecstatic heights to the abyss. Yet all the heartbreak of her heroines had not prepared her for her own.  Betrayed, forsaken, she was left without love, her voice, or hopes of a child, and was condemned to live out her life in solitude. I picture her wearing pearls. The light flooding her Paris apartment as she reaches for a small leather casket. Love is the most precious jewel of all, she whispers, unclasping the pearls that drop from her throat, as if scales of sorrow that soar and diminish.

The weather has cleared. Watching the white gulls fly above me I think of her. Happy 100th birthday dear Maria. As you sing in the beautiful aria Vissi d’Arte, truly you lived for love, you lived for art.

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We are in a van driving from the sea in Pescara to the mountains. I made a little video for you at the ocean I wasn’t certain that I could figure out how to send it while literally on the road but I did. I can’t write anymore as it’s making me carsick

But here’s mountains from my window with all good wishes to all.

This is a passage from The Waves, my favorite work by Virginia Woolf

The sun had not yet risen. The sea was indistinguishable from the sky, except that the sea was slightly creased as if a cloth had wrinkles in it. Gradually as the sky whitened a dark line lay on the horizon dividing the sea from the sky and the grey cloth became barred with thick strokes moving, one after another, beneath the surface, following each other, pursuing each other, perpetually.

All achieved from the traveling van! I will report again tomorrow

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Below is a fragment to the moon by the poet Shelley. I have a concert tonight in Berlin. In such complex times the songs will speak for me.

Art thou pale for weariness Of climbing Heaven, and gazing on the earth, Wandering companionless Among the stars that have a different birth,-- And ever changing, like a joyless eye That finds no object worth its constancy?

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A Light exists in SpringNot present on the YearAt any other period —When March is scarcely hereA Color stands abroadOn Solitary FieldsThat Science cannot overtakeBut Human Nature feels.It waits upon the Lawn,It shows the furthest TreeUpon the furthest Slope you knowIt almost speaks to you.Then as Horizons stepOr Noons report awayWithout the Formula of soundIt passes and we stay —A quality of lossAffecting our ContentAs Trade had suddenly encroachedUpon a Sacrament.

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Today is Brian Jones birthday, a kind of poetic outlaw. There was supposed to be quite a snowstorm in New York, but it petered out. A little ice residue, nothing more. The poet Julia Vinograd liked to drink coffee and write poetry at the Caffe Med on Telegraph Avenue. She died in 2018 at the age of 75, forever blowing bubbles.

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.

..

More pictures to come…..

Morning coffee.  Toast, olive oil, porridge and banana smoothie, side of beans, berries. Rehearsal went well.  We are the quartet configuration that is, in actuality as my son says: a power trio with a singer. With our sound and monitor techs Darrell and Pete.

It’s a small set up and everyone takes two or three roles. Getting us from place to place Setting up their own equipment and taking care of me.

As I was just writing, a very young girl, maybe twelve, asked me for an autograph.  But not on paper but on an iPad with a stylus.  I can’t imagine how this is saved.  I offered to write it on paper as well, but she didn’t want it and was happy to have it on the iPad.  Then she ran off, literally ran.

It’s always touching when a young person shows interest in you. And then it occurred to me that she is the age of many of the children who were shot dead in Texas by a fellow teenage boy.  Eighteen children.  Eighteen smiling, mischievous, challenged beings just having shed one cocoon, one skin or another.  Cut down completely.

In our British concerts we remember the children, and the 25th anniversary of the passing of the poet and activist Allen Ginsberg and Jeff Buckley.

In Cambridge I visited the wild meadow at Kings and the grave of Ludwig Wittgenstein. The scent of the wild enshrouded the grave of the great philosopher. Fully energized I stepped upon the stage of the Corn Exchange and we had a great night, and in the morning took a train to Brussels.

The first day of June.  In the morning I assess my state of being.  I still feel the effects of my booster shot that I didn’t want, still bothering me.  In fact, I feel the same dreaded transformation as the shots, but more prolonged, insidious. We live in the times we are in.  And these times require a booster, if I desire to travel, so i am thrice inoculated, and something added or subtracted from myself.

The morning was bright.  The view from my window, a magnificent steeple, loomed.  I did my stretches and stumbled downstairs into the breakfast room.  I made a plate of cucumbers, small bits, pumpkin seeds, goat cheese, marinated small fish and a small roll.The coffee was strong, so I added hot water and got up again to get a small roll with raisins for my pocket.  I sat and contemplated last night.  Our first night in Brussels was an erratic flame. The kind that could ignite a forest, that was the energy of the people and I realized that these two and a half years in isolation and semi-isolation displaced me some.  I was excited and happy, yet caught in such a swirl of energy, that I struggled to contain it.  I missed cues, sputtered in tongues, as if I was channeling the Flemish consciousness, mixed in French, mixed with my own.

My dear friend, the artist and designer, Ann Demeulemeester was standing in the wings. I thought of the first time we played in Brussels. Ann, quite young was there. It was 1977, and Arthur Rimbaud was in the air.  We ate crepes and fries in paper cones.  Scores of kids followed us in the street, not for selfies or autographs, just to hang out. We recited Rimbaud, drank coffee and raised a ruckus. That was Brussels.

It was that café.  The one with the faces of musicians tacked on the wall, home cooking sign in the window.  Black Swan was on from the album Nina Simone Live at Carnegie Hall.  I hadn’t heard it in a long time and it gave me a strange feeling; it took me way back to 1963, sixteen years old, holding that album in my hand and weeping to that song, conscious of  the miracle of Nina Simone.  And she was very much alive, angry, and vibrant, and now she’s dead and I’m still here.  I don’t know why that gave me such a chill.  So many souls who were alive now are gone.  Nina, William Burroughs, Bobby Neuwirth, Sam Sheperd, Robert Mapplethorpe…one dead friend after another, another mentor, another star. It was a momentary feeling, a kind of compressed sense of time.

I ordered black tea and a version of apple pie- a lot of cinnamon, which I love, but a bit doughy.  In any event it was just something to justify me sitting there for as long as it would take to write this, and then return a few steps away to Premises Studio. An historic cluster of rooms for reasonably priced rehearsal space, where Nina Simone once played on their piano.

I am doing six dates with my trio, my son Jackson on guitar, Tony Shanahan on bass/ keyboards and English drummer Seb Rockford on drums. The fellows set up while I wrote.  We’re trying some new things and dusting others off. Boy Cried Wolf.  A song for the Children, the Led Zepplin song that found its way into The Melting and Don’t Say Nothing for the great poet/ activist Allen Ginsberg.  That song was written by me and my drummer Jay dee Daugherty when Allen lay dying in his loft in the East Village during the garbage strike.  I guess around 25 years ago. And I was thinking about Allen’s activism and how many things have happened that he would have stood against, so many things since his passing, that fall into numb/dumb silence.  And I was just sitting there listening to Nina Simone, thinking of the 18 children in Texas, picked off with an automatic rifle by a teenage boy.  And I imagined 18 swans, and a horrifying target practice originating from the belly of hell.

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The Archer is wake!The Swan is flying!Gold against blueAn Arrow is lying.There is hunting in heaven—Sleep safe till tomorrow.The Bears are abroad!The Eagle is screaming!Gold against blueTheir eyes are gleaming!Sleep!Sleep safe till tomorrow.The Sisters lieWith their arms intertwining;Gold against blueTheir hair is shining!The Serpent writhes!Orion is listening!Gold against blueHis sword is glistening!Sleep!There is hunting in heaven—Sleep safe till tomorrow.

William Carlos Williams

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HAPPY NEW YEAR

From The universe in Verse/ Brainpickings

It troubled me as once I was— For I was once a Child— Concluding how an Atom—fell— And yet the Heavens—held— The Heavens weighed the most—by far— Yet Blue—and solid—stood— Without a Bolt—that I could prove— Would Giants—understand? Life set me larger—problems— Some I shall keep—to solve Till Algebra is easier— Or simpler proved—above— Then—too—be comprehended— What sorer—puzzled me— Why Heaven did not break away— And tumble—Blue—on me—

Emily Dickinson

                                     Happy birthday to them both, born on this day.

September 14th was the birthday of Amy Winehouse. The day she died Tony and I were at the Madrid Airport waiting for our flight home. Much saddened, I wrote Amy a little poem called This is the girl. Some days later we were recording the album Banga in Electric Lady Studios. Tony sat at the piano to play me a piece of music he had just written. I sensed immediately the poem to Amy would be perfect for his piece of music.

So we are offering it here, a bit ragtag, from a quiet space at the airport. Thinking of Amy, the girl who moved us all to tears.

Grateful

Ours is just another skin That simply slips away You can rise above it It will shed easily 

It all will come out fine I've learned it line by line One common wire One silver thread All that you desire Rolls on ahead 

Like a ship in a bottle Held up to the sun Sails ain't going nowhere You can count every one Until it crashes unto the earth And simply slips away You can hide in the open Or just disappear 

Ours is just a craving And a twist of the wrist Will undo the stopper With abrupt tenderness Die little sparrow And awake Singing 

It all will come out fine I've learned it line by line One common wire One silver thread All that you desire Rolls on ahead

It’s been a long time since I have traveled abroad and it has been wonderful, and yet a bit daunting. I find myself just slightly overwhelmed and it’s very hard to sit and write. But I have not forgotten my responsibilities and will be as diligent as I am able. I thought to send you all a message from Paris and a photograph of one of my favorite spots. I love the Saint Germain church, which I first visited with my sister Linda in 1969. Adjacent to it is a little park inhabited by scores of pigeons. Grey and black, along with a few pure white doves. The doves always make me think of Picasso; the dove was the first image he painted as a child.

In the park is a wonderful monument by Picasso that he created in the memory of his dear friend, the poet Apollinaire. I have visited this park scores of times and am always humbled by this work. It is actually a rendering of the artist Dora Marr, but somehow I always see Apollinaire in the face of the sculpture.

I am recording poetry in Paris with my friend Stefan, from Soundwalk Collective. For those reading The Melting, he is the enigmatic S., who sent me the mystical frequency equipment, including a fine Neumann. Now I am going to record a little poem for you. It is Le Pont Mirabeau, by Guillaume Apollinaire, a lyric piece I have always loved. I am also including a rare recording of Apollinaire reading his poem.

Hoping you have a nice Sunday. Sorry I was errant. I will make it up to you….

Keep an eye out, hopefully I can post tomorrow. Thank you

Notebook 1971

I keep trying to figure out what it means to be an American. When I look inside myself I see Abyssinia, nineteenth-century France, but I can’t recognize what makes me American. I think about Robert Frank’s photographs—broke down jukeboxes in Gallup, New Mexico, swaying hips and spurs, ponytails and syphilitic cowpokes, hash slingers, the glowing black tarp of US 285 and the Hoboken stars and stripes.I think of the ribbons I tie in my hair. I think of the red, white and blue rag I wrap around my pillow. Maybe it’s nothing material; maybe it’s just being free.Freedom is a waterfall, is pacing the floor boards till dawn.The right to write the wrong words.And I done plenty of that...

Happy Independence Day to All.