I know it’s April, not October, Herbert, but if I want to give jagged lipstick vibes on my own damn blog, I will! (What — it’s May? Damn.)

The last years we lived in the Nashville area, we lived in Willamson County. There’s this cool town there called Leiper’s Fork. We DID NOT have Leiper’s Fork money, but we went there occasionally for a meal at Puckett’s or to go to a cool architectural salvage place there.

I wasn’t building a cathedral then, but I loved stopping in. I’ve always enjoyed repurposing things with a history. People discard the most mind boggling stuff – an oak altar rail from a defunct church with a murderous backstory, stained glass windows burned into a baked Crayola state, (half off), mismatched drawer pulls nevertheless trying to succeed in the same rectangular space.

It’s only when you’ve done without that you see it, I think. Some of the items were too special to ignore. Some were fighting too hard. It’s difficult to know if you’re not in situ.

This is the area where Michael McDonald and his family lived – we’d have the occasional sighting. (I read a biography on him earlier this year that he wrote with – wait for it – of all people, Paul Reiser! Apparently Reiser is a fanboy, and he convinced McDonald to let him help tell his story. Definitely worth a read if you don’t mind deep dives.)

The timer went off just now and when I went to the kitchen I discovered I had not put the chicken IN THE OVEN! I have to get my head out of my…cold medicine.

The chicken was rescued but it got a good scolding of spices for not reminding me it needed to be put in! (Does Reiser make chicken? I could use some help in the kitchen while I’m writing. Really he could just play keyboard and collaborate with me on a song.)

Which reminds me, I wrote a poem this morning while listening to Queen (Freddie’s ma boy!). I want to share it but she’s looking for her other shoe under the bed.

I also wrote a poem today called “Karen Russell Did It Best,” full of alligators and freak shows and tenderness. And witness. (Don’t even try to argue with me about better or best. Life is so much more than comparatives and superlatives, okay?) “Microwaving Sadness” (eh, it’s not that serious), “Scrap Wood,” “Straight from Central Casting,” “Cohabitating with Your Past,” a few others, and, oh yes, see below.

I’m just a word raccoon attempting to keep this post the littlest bit quieter so as not to scare America’s sweetheart, Sue Heck, offstage. I’ll be back tomorrow with too much jewelry and unforgivably chipped nail polish. I promise. I think I just heard you gasp.

Cinema of the Unseen

On the back of your
Leiper’s Fork barn
You project
Movies
Of the too-seen

Move slowly
And unbreak things,
St. Sebastian, She

At least Sue Heck
Had that flanneled guy show up
For her
Pumpkin patch
Showing

It doesn’t have to be pretty, Precious,

If it sings

For maximum haunting vibes, pair this post with the lyrical To Build a Home by The Cinematic Orchestra. Or not. Nobody’s making you, know you. Once it’s out on the curb, it’s abandoned property. Hope you enjoyed the show.