There are three kinds of novels I've never taken to heart: science fiction, murder mysteries and novels about novelists. So I've decided to try my hand at each. If I fail, they're probably not books I'd want to read anyway.
I'm putting the final touches on a new album, Flow Critical Lucidity. But after my memoir, Sonic Life (2023), came out, I realized my next mission was a novella, the working title of which is Boomerang and Parsnip. It concerns two madly in love youths in the wilds of Lower Manhattan circa 1981, and it's wholly irreal, bordering on fantasy.
I'm writing a guidebook for a set of tarot cards I designed with the artist Lissanne Lake.
I'm planning to start a band called Spacecrone. (I've stolen the name from a book of Ursula K. Le Guin essays.) It'll be all female and 55-plus. Our faces will be made up like Ziggy Stardust, but we'll wear sensible clothes and shoes. What's kept me from starting it is that I can't sing or play any instruments.
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