Hitting The Links: 4/13/25
Plenty of links to check out, + a new monologue, my Beckettian dad, the tease of running a marathon, BIRDY, & more!
The Virtual Memories Show News
A 2x/week email about a podcast about books & life
Real but not Revealing
I said I wasn’t going to post a new episode this week, but wound up recording a ~20-min. monologue-episode on Saturday morning about friends, family, and what we see & hear & say, occasioned by taking my dad for his long-overdue cataract surgery.
There was a segment at the end that I cut, about what it means to be real but not revealing, in terms of one’s online personae. Maybe I’ll revisit it in some other context. In the meantime, I’ve got to edit this week’s show and get to reading & scheduling for upcoming guests, so you never have to get subjected to another monologue-episode again.
Birdy Of The Week
“Somewhere, a UPS guy needs to be barked at. . . .”
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And now, let’s hit the links!
Links & Such
Recent Virtual Memories Show podcasts: See Hear Speak • Peter Trachtenberg • David Shields • Meeting Across The River • Elon Green • Vanda Krefft • Seth Lorinczi • Martin Mittelmeier
RIP Gerald Luss . . . RIP Brad Holland . . . RIP John Thornton . . . RIP Jesse Kornbluth . . . RIP Joseph Boskin . . . RIP Clem Burke . . . RIP Alice Tan Ridley . . . RIP Dave Allen . . . RIP Jay North . . . RIP William Finn . . . RIP George Bell . . .
Also, Bob McManus died.
I was so zonked when I put Wednesday’s newsletter together that I referred to “Alan Moore’s V for Vendetta” and not “Alan Moore and David Lloyd’s V for Vendetta.” It’s embarrassing because I bought a new copy of the book a day or so after the election in 2024 (just, um, because) and see it every time I grind my coffee.
I don’t do a good enough job of hyping books by past guests. You should go get John Cuneo’s Good Intentions. (I got to see John at MOCCA last month, and had a nice time gabbing with him.)
Illustration by John Cuneo Great piece by upcoming guest Dan Goldman about receiving his mantra.
Andrew Porter wrote about getting over audiobook snobbery.
Lavie Tidhar’s latest Shelfies email shows off Rudy Rucker’s shelf, and it’s a doozy.
Boy, is this a weird assisted suicide story (obvious trigger warning).
Semi-speaking of assisted suicide, the founder of Quartz, a business media site, wrote about its 10-year lifespan.
Semi-related to that, Maris Kreizman wrote about her expectations for her upcoming book and what it means to be a good author. (I’m hoping to record with her for I Want To Burn This Place Down.)
Sure, I’d love to see Amtrak get faster, but I’m kinda doubtful with this administration.
It’s Samuel Beckett’s birthday, so here’s the pic I took of Dad a few days ago during his post-cataract followup, looking pretty Beckettian:
(Don’t call me an art monster; the composition and lighting were too good to pass up, and since my old man used to be a photographer, he’d approve of my nailing a shot like this one.)
Current/Recent Reading
Never Again Will I Visit Auschwitz - Ari Richter
Ginseng Roots: A Memoir - Craig Thompson
Searches: Selfhood in the Digital Age - Vauhini Vara
Hold Still: A Memoir With Photographs - Sally Mann
Art is seldom the result of true genius; rather, it is the product of hard work and skills learned and tenaciously practiced by regular people. In my case, I practice my skills despite repeated failures and self-doubt so profound it can masquerade outwardly as conceit.
The Man Without Qualities - Robert Musil (tr. Wilkins/Pike)
“And I am opinionated enough to say that there should be no time off,” her cousin retorted. “What sort of a life is it that we have to drill holes in it called holidays; would we punch holes in a painting because it makes too strenuous demands on our sense of beauty? Should we look forward to taking time off from eternal bliss in the next world? Even the thought of time taken off my life by having to sleep sometimes seems unacceptable to me.”
Sound Body, Fractured Mind
I’m 4 days into my 5-day weights/yoga cycle, so if I get in weights today, I’ll feel a little better about myself. My body looks pretty good despite all the down time. (No pix, as I don’t want to scandalize, traumatize, or otherwise-ize you.)
I really want to get back to running, now that I can breathe, but I just need one goddamned morning of decent weather to jump-start myself. This, on the other hand hand, is what greeted me yesterday morning:
On a walk with The Guys this morning, I stupidly mentioned that I want to get my first marathon in this year, which inspired a lot of talk about my getting back with their running schedule (Mon./Tue./Thu. 6.3mi., then long-run on Sat.) and figuring out which marathon I should enter.
On Wednesday, after getting back from Dad’s cataract surgery, I meditated downstairs while Birdy was causing a ruckus upstairs. She ran downstairs to find me at one point, and put her snout up to my face, sniffing away to check if I was breathing, I guess. When she pulled back, I opened my eyes and tilted my head to look at her. She locked eyes with me for a few seconds, then proceeded to do her regular practice: slapping my forearm with her outsized, rough paw, in hopes of receiving skritchies & rubbies. I kept looking at her face, and when she paused I asked quietly, “What is your Buddha-nature?”
She stepped back and took one more swipe with her paw, not making contact with me or the floor, before turning, walking to her dog-mat, and lying down. She had revealed the sound of one paw clapping.
Until Next Time
Thanks for reading this far! I’ll be back on Wednesday with a new episode, an Instax throwback, & maybe some art, and on Sunday with links, books, & workout craziness (I hope), & maybe a little profundity or something.
I could not say no to the light of my desire / I’m not asking so much / But you roll-call the passion / His lips? / No / His back? / No / His face? / No, no, no,