What Do Tennessee Republicans and Quentin Tarantino Have In Common?

I don’t actually know the answer to that question, but I’m starting to suspect it’s “a foot fetish.” First there was Ramsey’s boot, which he was going to put in the ass of Washington, and now Mike Turner’s Republican opponent has made a campaign video seemingly designed to appeal to the small number of coprophiliac crush-video fanatics in District 51. (Dear lord, let’s hope it’s a small number.)

But, hey, if you like to watch plain-spoken farmers stomp bison poop, do I have the video for you! Not even kidding!

In all seriousness, this seems like a strange strategy. Does Charles Williamson really want to make the campaign about who has the better job?

Mike Turner heroically rescues people from flood water at his job. Charles Williamson farms bison and makes campaign videos that appeal to niche porn audiences.

I’m not sure that’s a winning strategy. I’m honestly torn, though. In principle, I love the idea of a political commercial that features, at its apex, bison-poop stomping. But seeing it in real life, it kind of makes me feel like someone from the TNGOP needs to get out there and tell Williamson that he doesn’t want voters to remember him as the guy who splatters poop all over.

The New Set of Ghost Stories

Shoot, people, I’m loving writing the new ghost stories. I’m especially loving writing them now, knowing I’ll have some time to polish them before y’all see them. It’s all I can think about, in a way that really makes me happy, to try to figure out what it is I want to say and how and why. I have to admit that the Devil was my favorite character from last year, and he’s back this year, in three stories (so far, but I think that’s enough). I just feel like you have to have the Devil in a story about Nashville, that you just can’t have a town this churchy without the Devil being the unseen guest. I have a few flood stories so far. I think, if you read me, you know that’s something that has weighed heavily on my mind.

Upon rereading what I have so far, I’m struck by how many stories revolve around families and family relations.  I also see myself playing a lot with the space between how two different people interpret the same events.

I’m still mulling over whether to self-publish. I think, if I try to go the traditional route, I’m going to have to find an agent, and I honestly have little idea how one goes about that. And I keep thinking that my stories are so Nashville-specific that it might be a turn-off to a big publisher. Plus, there’s the whole issue of them being fictional ghost stories. Fictional ghost stories that have all been (or are about to be) published right here.

I don’t know. I feel like I could get review copies to the Nashville media, so it’s not like I need a publisher for that. I don’t know. This is one of those areas where I feel like an old fogey. I feel like I should not even sweat it–just self-publish the book, sell it to people who I know are interested in it, and glory in having a copy of my own book on my shelf.

But something about it also feels kind if illegitimate, like cheating.

But I think that’s on me. I just need to let go of the idea that Random House doing a book makes it “real” and me doing a book makes it about vanity.

It’s Like an Armpit Out There

Every year, I think, “Gosh, how weird to live in Tennessee and never go to Bonnaroo,” and then it gets to be about this time of year, when you sweat walking the dog at 6:30 in the morning, and I remember why.

Did you know the Nashville Zoo used to be up here near Pleasant View?  I did not.

Always something new, you know?

While walking the dog, I’ve decided that the flower design in which you have a tall stalk along which many flowers bloom over time, like a slow-motion sparkler, is the best.

I also am pondering planting a bunch of beans at the end of my flowerbed near the peonies in an effort to improve the soil after all that crap from the flood washed into it.