Oh well, here I am in beloved Mutiny Trinidad in Trinidad Colorado, listening to Bauhaus. A rocky visit. The first few days here, and I was fighting a dose of The Covid, which is returning in these parts as a summer surge. Not too severe, but still felt miserable.
The Covid, of course, plays a major role in my novel, Zelda Rising. A fateful twist, the beginning of the end. The main character, Crystine, tries to hide away from it while her unwelcome guest begins his process of gaslighting her, refusing to wear a mask then saying he said he would wear it, then saying he won't ... typical narcissistic borderline scheming. Drives her mad.
So, most everything I wanted to do last week went bad. I had to miss a local open mic and I couldn't go to any of the games during the Trinidad Triggers week-long home stand. Sat at home watching The Maury Show and Jerry Springer and bad cable network news shows.
And they have been mostly crass during this Trump shooting episode. Lots of talking heads going on about how Trump will now almost surely be elected on some sort of sympathy vote, etc. I watched the act minutes after it happened: oddly enough, I did expect something big pre-convention, so while I was surprised, I also felt, yeah, whatever.
When I went to Indiana University Journalism School, we learned ethics and responsibility to the society. Now it's all: something shocking and explosive to bring in the ad revenue.
Ah well, back to Zelda Rising. I left two copies at Mutiny here, and it appears that one did sell. Which made me feel better after encountering this morning one of those cursed reject email blasts from some magazine that didn't like one of my stories. Hate that, threw me into depression. But getting over it.
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Look, I like Trinidad very much, but they just don't have a Museum of Post-Punk and Industrial Music like Chicago, where curator and drummer Martin Atkins and master bass player Jah Wobble jammed on Sunday. I mean, this is one of my favorite rhythm sections: the pair that drove the Public Image LTD live album Paris au Printemps and the deconstruction of American Bandstand back in the day.
This would have been special, but I couldn't break my long-standing plans for my Colorado trip. They did do a Zoom broadcast at the same time but Mom doesn't like WiFi and there's little privacy in the Glorified Cabin. Drat, better luck in August.
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The Trinidad Triggers did beat the Santa Fe Fuego at the game I attended, beautiful day with Fisher's Peak mountain in the background and the Amtrak train passing by in the distance. They renovated the park over the off season, with more comfortable seating in the main pavilion and a clean infield showing improved sight lines. I was thinking of going tonight to escape the non-stop Republican Convention coverage in the Glorified Cabin, but looking like rain.
I have also made a Facebook friend in the mascot, Triggy, and will post a photo at some point. I like baseball mascots, except for Clark the Cub, because the Chicago Cubs represent something oddly pure to me that doesn't need frills, though the current owner did all he could to desecrate it.
Ciao, ciao, for now.
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