You can definitely see your enthusiasm within the paintings you write. The world hopes for even more passionate writers such as you who are not afraid to say how they believe. At all times go after your heart.

That’s my latest comment, and thank you, random spammer.

***

In 2013 they had the first Southwest Festival of the Written Word, and I wasn’t here for it. But I was in 2015, 2017, and 2019. Now it’s on again, and I’m 4 for 5.

It’s not a real Festival this time though. It’s mostly “Zoom” calls and in some ways it’s worse than not having one at all.

Still I persist.

The keynote was attempted by Rick Bass. I respect him as a writer, and now, paradoxically because he sucked at zoomcalling, I have more respect for him as a person now. From time to time he flashed a false and uneasy smile that said, to this observer, that this was a payday and not a whole lot more.

He has his environmental battles up on the Montana frontier. I wish him well in speaking for the doomed trees.

Beyond that he said to Show Up and Keep At It, and maybe that’s the only advice there really ever is.

Midafternoon, I have respect for Denise Chávez.

Finally we came to the main event, called Writing and Activism, and it was brutally disappointing. The message seemed to be that activism consists in giving more literary awards to minorities. No mention of the burning planet or income inequality.

Sergey, if I want to hear bullshit about Winning, next time I’m going to a Charlie Sheen conference and drinking the tiger blood. Yours is too tepid for my particular form of secondhand vampirism.

In between sessions, I continue to be nourished by this landscape, including the tiny sliver I am now said to own.