Shadow Boxing
No new podcast, but yes new Pynchon novel, plus reflections at a cataract surgery, Experimental Humanities, & more!
The Virtual Memories Show News
A 2x/week email about a podcast about books & life
Podcastery
Sorry, no new podcast this week. I’ve got a LOT going on at work, as mentioned in Sunday’s newsletter, what with the effect of FDA/HHS staffing cuts, the tariff announcements, and upcoming sectoral pharma tariffs. Between that & my run-down health, I decided discretion would be the better part of valor. Go through the archives and listen to some of the oldies. And maybe click over to the web version of this email and leave a comment about your fave episode or who you’d love to hear me record with.
Last week, I posted Episode 632 of The Virtual Memories Show, feat. the return of Peter Trachtenberg as we celebrate THE TWILIGHT OF BOHEMIA: Westbeth and the Last Artists in New York (Black Sparrow Press), his new book that explores the 50+ years of history for Westbeth Artists Housing in the far West Village, the role of the arts in New York City, and the ways we build & sustain community. We get into his long-term history with Westbeth, how this book’s was born from an essay about the suicide of his friend and Westbeth resident Gay Milius, how Westbeth managed to survive a series of financial crises over the decades before finding a sustainable model, and how architect Richard Meier repurposed the Bell Labs complex into affordable artists’ housing in the 1960s. We talk about Westbeth’s requirement that residents be professional artists and what that came to mean over the years, what it’s like to raise families in Westbeth, and how the community handled generational change. We also discuss how Westbeth reflects New York back on itself, how Vin Diesel’s vandalism as a kid growing up in Westbeth led to his acting career, how I stumbled across Westbeth in 2017 during — what else? — a podcast, how we build artistic communities when we don’t have geographic proximity, whether there’s a secret radioactive room left over from the Bell Labs years (!), and more. Give it a listen! And go read THE TWILIGHT OF BOHEMIA!
Recent episodes: David Shields • Meeting Across the River • Elon Green • Vanda Krefft • Seth Lorinczi • Martin Mittelmeier • Jonathan Ames • Witold Rybczynski
Shadow Boxing
I’m spending the morning (now afternoon) in the lobby of a medical building while my old man gets cataract surgery (1 of 2, next one in 3 weeks). I think about last fall in Rome and my longed-for encounter with the Boxer At Rest. After a few sketches I studied the face I’d drawn so many times before, finally seeing it in the flesh/bronze.
On the flight home I wrote, unwittingly aping Rilke,
Empty sockets reveal only A glint of light Inside his head And our shared hollowness
There’s more, and someday I might get back to it. For now, there are other fragments to excavate, while my eyes hold out.
In the meantime, during lunch I got the astonishing news that there’s a new novel coming in October from Thomas Pynchon: SHADOW TICKET! At 384 pages, I’m guessing it’ll be “minor-key” Pynchon, as opposed to, say, Gravity’s Rainbow / Mason & Dixon / Against the Day. (I contend AtD is Pynchon’s greatest novel, but that’s partly because I know no one else is going to read all 1,100 pages, I can reinforce my literary snobbery with a judgment like that.)
The occasion of a new Pynchon novel means I can once again recount my wittiest dream ever, from late 1989, when I was a mere 18 years old. I’d discovered Pynchon a year or so earlier, courtesy of Alan Moore and David Lloyd’s V for Vendetta comic (which is, let’s just say, timely), and devoured V. and The Crying of Lot 49. I was absorbed by his fictional worlds, his influence on the cyberpunks & other authors I was just discovering, his already legendary seclusion/publicity-shyness. (The last known photo of him is from 1953, I think.)
It being 1989, Pynchon’s long-awaited followup to Gravity’s Rainbow was due soon: VINELAND. Before the book came out, I dreamed I was in a bookstore and saw a big display for this forthcoming novel. I grabbed a copy and opened it to read the flap copy. On the back flap, the About the Author section was a beautifully lit b/w photo of an empty room.
Even my dream-self laughed over that one.
No, I don’t expect I’ll be sitting down for a podcast with Pynchon, but it’s nice to know I’ve got some extracurricular reading waiting for me this fall. (I mean, sure, if any of you can connect us, that’d be awesome, but the author let his books speak for him for ~60 years; no reason to stop now.) (Also, one of my guests did get to meet him when Pynchon recorded a bit for The Simpsons, but that’s another story.)
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Instaxery
Didn’t take any new Instax this week either, so here’s one from earlier this year. The notion of Experimental Humanities caught my attention, as I wrestle with what change means on a soul/self level.
On a walk with Birdy last week, I wondered whether, for example, Buddha-nature is innate or something the soul expands into, the potential for which is not “written into our code,” but a rewriting, if you get me. [You can use whatever religious/spiritual example you like.]
I’ve lately been considering it in relation to my leukemia; some of my cells mutated, and now they’re expressing themselves in ways they were never meant to. Does the soul/self mutate, or does it ‘only’ traverse among some predetermined stages or scenarios? I could use a shot of the XE, is what I’m saying.
Artistry
I haven’t restarted the sketchpad-journal, but maybe I’ll get some stuff drawn while sitting in this lobby.
You should go to the Flickr album of most of the art I’ve made & find something you like.
Postcardery
Let me know if you want to be on my postcard-a-day list. (Financial supporters of the podcast get a hand-drawn or painted postcard as a thank-you.)
Until Next Time
Thanks for reading this far. I’ll be back on Sunday with links, books, & workout-/meditation-craziness, and on Wednesday with a new episode, and maybe some art, and an Instax.
Turn the light out, say goodnight, no thinking for a little while / Let’s not try to figure out everything at once / It’s hard to keep track of you falling through the sky,