For anyone wanting to play the game and BE interviewed, please
1. Leave me a comment saying, “Interview me.”
2. I respond by asking you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.
HER (very astute) QUESTIONS:
Mon, May 22, 2006 – 2:59 PM
1. When did you discover that writing was something you were good at and had to do to feel whole?
I first discovered I was good at writing as a schoolboy, but (typically) didn’t do anything about it until much later. Perhaps I sensed what a vicious jones it would become! Now, I can’t get by without it and, like many addictions, give up much to indulge it.
2. What is your earliest childhood memory?
My maternal grandfather’s house in Tip Top, VA at around noon on 22 Nov. 1963. I was almost a month shy of my third birthday and the entire extended Puckett family was in a horrible way, with all the women crying and my grand-dad swearing at the big glass TV eye, full of rage. My mother, always loving and cheerful, was weeping and trembling. JFK has just been murdered in Dallas and my uncles would soon be putting up money toward a lawyer’s fee for his assassin’s assassin.
3. If you knew today would be your last day alive, how would you spend it?
Hm. My “Logan’s Run” Lastday! Well, ask this question on any other day and get a wildly different answer, but today is Monday, so I answer this way: Since I have no relatives west of Memphis, it would seem rather pointless to leave L.A., so I would sleep late, call a few loved ones to say goodbye, resist entreaties to spend my last few hours with them (why should they be stuck with my corpse?), do a Tribe posting announcing my demise at dawn, and go out to cover one last show. I would return to my computer to write my last review ever, send it off, blow all you folks some kisses while chewing a giant wad of acid, totter to a taxi and offer the driver a large sum to get me to the Santa Monica pier before dawn, there to await my appointment in Samarra.
4. What does “true love” mean to you?
It means an emotion I’ve felt exactly a half-dozen times in my life. It never dies, no matter what happens or how much time passes. You literally DO love the person more than yourself, your life, your art. It is being alive to the skin cells and nerve endings. It is the stuff all those old Rod Stewart/Otis Redding/Johnny Cash/George Jones/Marvin Gaye songs are made of! It is what you’re alive FOR. I’m pleased to note I don’t have to explain this feeling to YOU, dear Rebecca! 😉
5. Do you believe in God? Why?
Yes. I was a violent atheist for a number of years and made a pretty truculent agnostic, too. I am fully aware of every last argument for the non-existence of a Higher Power (one even higher than I am now) and I think I even authored one or two myself. As logic, they’re all formally worthless, as the spiritual experience is (as William James reminds us), both ineffable AND completely independent of the doctrines of ANY religion. It also can’t be prosletyzed worth a fuck. The most I can say is that if you see life as less a meaningless tragedy and more a phantasmagoric farce, you’re already spiritual. The least is that faith is a peak human experience so why not have it?