These 11 questions were posed to me and a small group of writers by
Michael has been nominated or suggested for The Sunshine Blogger Award, was asked a series of questions and then charged with asking his own questions of fellow Substackers.
Below are my answers. Maybe I’ll come up with my own set of questions for some of you.
Hope this gives you a little more insight into the writer and person behind 1226 consecutive daily stories.
What is your favorite color and, moreover, which aspect of social deviancy attracts you the most?
Cobalt blue and addiction. Not only do I fully embrace being a recovering addict/addictive personality/lovebombing freakazoid, it humors me in a sometimes painful way how people pass judgement on certain forms of addiction while being completely pretzeled by their own addictions to substances, behaviors and inanimate objects.
What was your favorite children’s book?
Those changed by era/year, which is probably true for a lot of people, but the question is singular, so here is an unavoidably cryptic answer: I was obsessive from about 5-7 about a richly illustrated, vibrantly colored anti-war,anti pollution book. I would swear it was the same publisher that put out Seuss but I guess I’m wrong based on research. It was so anti-corporate I wouldn’t be surprised if it was rushed out of print, but I’d love to find a copy. Forgotten title. Best hint I can give is final page was a single green sprout growing out of concrete rubble in a deserted city.
You’ve just met someone new. How long does it take for you to decide whether you like them or not?
My initial instincts are usually correct. Very soon. I have been wrong both ways on several occasions, but overall my gut has a great gastrointestinal judgement record.
What historical era would you like to have lived in?
Hard to wish for another when my real life was timed almost (almost) perfectly for the Decline of Western Civilization punk era and punk rock saved my life, but if I gotta go back I’ll take the Lewis and Clark era. I’d like to think I wouldn’t have been a dick to the indigenous tribes or a slave owner, but who knows? Barring any statistically likely atrocities committed by me, that would be a good one.
Who is your favorite musician, and why?
These singulars are very difficult. My favorite band is The Clash. That’s easy. 4 members with some additional help on recordings, but I’m giving myself enough rope to count them as a single entity.
What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
The questionnaire turns goth on me. Ok. Misery is the last thing I want to think about now. Probably the inability to be heard. Screaming a truth at someone who refuses to hear it and the lack of putting that truth in motion hurts you worse than the person who ignored it. If I go deeper into that concept I’ll start telling you what a fucked up adolescence I had and then this goes from a Q&A to a fucking After School Special and no one wants that.
What is your favorite virtue, and why?
Compassion. It’s an endangered species. Compassion and its cousin empathy are being choked out by greed and selfishness. Like there’s gonna be one single injured compassion with one wing and a busted beak chained to a cage in a museum somewhere, and people will get in a fight waiting in the line to gawk at it. And the exhibit won’t be DDA compliant.
Which period of American history confounds you most, and why is it now?
I do hate now. I think a bunch of the people who believed this was gonna be the dawn of a new era in the US {I was not among them} are looking at the reality of it and hating it too. Holy shit have these last few questions/answers turned negative. Everyone slather themselves in an exotic flavor of ice cream and call over someone you love/lust. Do it now.
What is your principal defect?
They do not make filters discerning enough to squeeze one single, glaring defect out of me. I’m the senior partner in the world’s biggest flaw firm. A Russian novelist would run out of characters to fit all the defects. I’ll say impatience because in this case my impatience to answer the next question keeps me from berating myself further. My girlfriend would probably choose from another selection in the thick and varied menu. If you don’t stay for dessert I’ll understand.
You’re having me over for supper and you’re cooking your favorite dish. What are we having? Do you hope I’ll help you prepare it, or do you prefer cooking alone?
My late friend Brandon Rosen, a popular Theatre Bizarre stage manager loved my spaghetti sauce. He was skeptical that I could even successfully open a bag of ramen without assistance and joked about it on social media. When he had my sauce he publicly and enthusiastically admitted he was wrong. So a Bolognese style sauce with my own spins, over your preference of pasta. I cook alone. Just like writing. I cannot collaborate with anyone on cooking or writing, not a true partnership anyway. On movie sets directors and writers have very graciously allowed me to insert my own dialogue. I appreciate that so greatly. But it doesn’t apply in the reverse. You’ll eat what I’m cooking. Stay outta my kitchen.
Which place on Earth would you like to visit but haven’t yet. Why?
Marisa Tomei’s underwear drawer. (One of her Substack friends is gonna tell her I said that). My girlfriend would very much predict I would say that. Glad I got it out of my system.
Somewhere forested, with a lot of waterfalls. A really close friend going back to our teens on the west side of Detroit is a pastor in Brazil, and I have a standing invitation to visit. But he’s in ranch country, wide open spaces. I want something that could approximate the Aldheorte in Tad Williams’ Osten Ard books. Somewhere I could escape to surrounded by centuries old trees. I’m a city kid and I’ll always love the rhythm and chaos of a city, but I need the comfort of an isolated forest.
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If you’d like to ask me any other questions, do not be shy, do not hold back.
Thoroughly enjoyed that. Frustrated we can’t sit across a table and banter those questions. And hell yeah, I hope you’ll write your own.
Must add, I got to see The Clash three nights in a row at the Lyceum in London, 1981, I think it was. Still small venue stuff. Forever in my bones.
A fascinating glimpse inside your head, Jimmy. And I’d stop being vegetarian to try your bolognese sauce…