Not sure how many of you are even left out there, I know it’s been a minute. I just wanted to let you all know that I haven’t been idle. I previewed a couple of chapters from a book I was writing some time back and it got a pretty good response at the time. I really just wanted to let you all know that the book is now done.
It’s a post cyberpunk dystopia novel called Mind Fields and I’m currently looking for an agent who might be willing to represent me. I’m also looking for some beta readers to vet the manuscript and give feedback. If anyone might be interested in doing that, let me know and I’ll send you a pdf. I’m quite proud of the work I’ve done and am already formulating the plot to a sequel.
All is well here, btw, Jersey girl and I are still happily together and being all sorts of creative. I hope this missive finds you all just as happy and content.
Here’s a little speculative cover I whipped up just for fun.
I travelled 16,618 km (103256 miles) to be with my wife. At least, that is the distance, as the crow flys, between Melbourne Australia and New Jersey. Of course, I made the trip five times before that final permanent one. Five times both ways; 166,180 km plus the final trip bringing the total to 182,798 km or 113,585.411 miles.
Any way you cut it, that’s a lot of travel hours; a lot of time spent jammed into undersized airplane seats listening to babies cry and people snore, a lot of time dashing through strange airports trying not to miss my connection, a lot of time being irradiated in body scanners and harangued by the TSA.
Add to that the heartbreaking farewells at the end of each of those five visits and the weeks of depression once I’d returned to Melbourne and the whole thing feels a little Homerespue; at the very least, it is an epic(ish) poem of devotion and unflagging determination.
Was it worth it? Was all the lost sleep, longing, anxiety, and sheer discomfort worth the final reward?
Absolutely.
Jersey girl and I recently passed the one year mark in our real life together. One year living under the same roof. One year living as a family. It has been challenging, rewarding, vexing, and, at times, downright confusing but mostly it has felt like home. We live well together. Our chemistry has survived close and prolonged proximity. If there was a honeymoon period, it is still very much in effect.
I wake up every day and thank the universe for this woman with whom I now share my world. She has shown me what true love and devotion really are.
And my new adopted country?
America, much to my surprise has become a strange fascination to me. I have felt myself falling in love with her too. Her seasons, her moods, her people, and her beating heart (New York) have captured me in ways and with an intensity, I never would have guessed could happen to me.
There is a feeling that anything is possible here, that you might discover who you truly are as this vast melting pot of ideas and cultures reflects your persona, your mask, back at you. America will not let you hide from your true self. She demands that you simply be – you.
So, I’ve let a week pass since my Springsteen experience. I’ve allowed the images and sounds to filter down through my psyche and settle where they may. I wanted to wait past the gushy “oh my God I’ve seen Springsteen” phase before writing about what those two amazing nights meant to me.
Here’s the thing, though, a week later I still feel exactly the same level of awe I felt walking out of AMMI Stadium. You’ll just have to excuse any excessive hyperbole (and I’m sure there’ll be plenty) because this may well be as calm as I ever get on this subject.
I’m not a young man. I’ve lived for over half a century and during that time, I’ve seen a lot of great bands do their thing live. I saw Bowie (twice), The Cure on two consecutive nights, Santana, Sonic Youth, P J Harvey, The White Stripes, The Scissor Sisters, the Church, Something for Kate (multiple times), Shriekback (twice), The Go-Betweens, Gillian Welch, My Bloody Valentine, Paul Weller (twice), The Chills, I’ve seen the incredible Steve Vai ply his trade in the dubious company of Dave Lee Roth, U2, Duran fucking Duran, Icehouse, Joan as Police Woman, Neko Case with Calexico, The Foo Fighters, Queens of the Stone Age, Glenn Tilbrook (UK Squeeze), Wilco, Antony and the Johnsons, Deborah Conway, Dinosaur Jr., Ed Kuepper, The Saints, Husky, Martha Wainwright, Pony Face, R.E.M., Supergrass, The Breeders, The Triffids, and now Bruce Springsteen.
I’m sure I left a bunch of stuff off that list but the point I’m trying to make is that it’s a very eclectic mix of people and styles. My taste ranges all over the musical spectrum and so, I’ve gotten to see the many and varied ways that bands choose to present their material live. In all the many years I’ve been going to gigs, however, I’ve never seen anything to compare with Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band.
What is that X-factor which makes a Springsteen gig so special? I paid particular attention to that question on the second night (I’d been way too overwhelmed on the first to really ask myself anything beyond, “are you remembering to breathe?”). The answer – beyond the amazing material and the supreme skill of all involved – is that Springsteen has the power to make you – among all the tens of thousands – feel like he’s communicating directly with you.
You walk out of the show feeling like Springsteen has somehow become aware of you, that you are now a member of his vast extended family and, in a sense, you are exactly that. The Springsteen ‘family’ is a huge number of people all connected by this one man and his music (I don’t mean to play down the role of the rest of the band in this, but it is Springsteen who is the true conduit of this connection).
I’m aware that moments within the show are scripted to look spontaneous. I witnessed one of those moments during show 2 when the Boss pretended to have forgotten the chords to a song and had to get the audience to sing the melody so that he and Steve could work it out right there on stage. Bruce looked out into the audience and said, “we haven’t played this one in a long time.” The song was Waiting on a Sunny Day which any true fan knows they play almost every show.
It was a moment of theatre very carefully designed to make the audience feel a part of the action and it worked. Some consider this sort of thing disingenuous but I’m old enough to remember what real showmanship is and how useful it can be in building a bridge between audience and artist.
I was reminded that most of the individuals up on the stage have been doing this for over fifty years and the fact that they can still make it seem fresh and vibrant in 2017 is a credit to both their skills as musicians and their commitment to the E Street ethos.
And speaking of musical skills, did I mention what an absolutely awesome axe-man the Boss still is?
I’d believed that his days of shredding the ol’ fretboard were pretty much behind him. Nothing could be further from the truth. Springsteen at 68 still has mad skills on the guitar; I had to see him live to fully understand that. Steve too, has the fingers of a younger musician and can match his ‘Boss’ lick for lick. As for Nils, holy crap! That little guy can play! He’s a guitar virtuoso and it’s no wonder Bruce kept him on after Stevie re-joined E Street.
The immersion I felt for the entire time I was in the arena, the sense of being in a bubble of very different time to the world outside has definitely stayed with me. When you’re in the presence of Springsteen, you are in a separate universe. It’s a much nicer place than where you’ve come from and when they make you leave at the end, you do so with a profound sense of reluctance and the certain knowledge that you will be back – no matter what it takes.
I’m going to include a link to an article by Melbourne radio and TV personality Tony Wilson. It captures perfectly the amazing effect Springsteen can have on people of all ages and circumstances.
I’m sure there have been thousands of such stories over the many years of this band’s remarkable career.
I know for a fact that my life changed in that arena. A very familiar group of people stepped onto a stage on a beautiful summer’s evening and invited me to join their family. I think I’d been waiting for that invitation my whole life.
Runaway American Dream 