I think I figured out why Trump won

I've been grieving all day, wondering what kind of world we're in with that criminal/liar/conman re-elected as leader of the biggest economy in the world. It can't possibly be real. It's a bad work of fiction. I think Houellebecq wrote this scenario we've been living in since 2016. It reminds me of his novel Submission, with its strange yet plausible political scenario for France. It also reminds me of the Lars Van Trier film Melancholia, wherein the other planet passes by, then circles back to destroy the earth. Everybody has false hopes and a sense of relief, like we had after the failed coup of Jan. 2021, like the false relief provided by so many pollsters and self-annointed poll gurus who underestimated quiet support for the orange fascist. It also makes sense that he survived two assassination attempts--the author of this fucked up world, be it the Devil or Houellebecq, saw fit to preserve him--this story wouldn't have made sense if the assassination attempts failed and Trump ended up losing the election anyway. It's still a crap story. Please delete this draft and start over.

Works I read this year.

Olga Tokarczuk's The Books of Jacob. An extraordinarily good historical novel. This giant tome was very-well researched both in terms of the historical personalities and the complexities and nuances of 18th century Kabbalism. Perhaps someday it could be made into a television series--though how do you communicate the kabbalistic ideas in a tv show? I had ruminated for the last several years about writing a novel about Shabbetai Tzvi, the spiritual forebear of her main character Jacob Frank. She covered the sect of followers of Shabbetai so thoroughly well that I don't think I can compete or add to her treatment. If I were to write such a novel, my derivative work would be analogous to Dan Brown's story compared to the vastly intellectual superior Umberto Eco's treatment of the subject in Foucault's Pendulum. In previous years I read two of her other novels in translation--Flights and Drive your Ploughs over the Bones of the Dead. Both were good, but Flights was exceptional. I see why she won the Nobel Prize for Literature. Bora Chung's collection of sci-fi stories Your Utopia. I loved this one too. One of the most keenly insightful and empathic sci-fi writers I've yet read. Amitav Ghosh's The Glass Palace. I'm about 4/5 done reading it and the perspectives on British Imperialism in India and Burma are eye-opening. Another worthwhile read. Ray Bradbury's collection The Illustrated Man. Meh. Decent, but not brilliant. I picked this one up from the Blind Date with a Book section at Elizabeth's books in Fremantle, Australia. I thought from the description on the brown paper wrapping that I was getting a book of Philip K. Dick stories or perhaps Isaac Asimov or Arthur Clarke. Kat Howard's Roses and Rot. Also selected via Blind Date with a Book at the Elizabeth's Books in Fremantle. Some good writing at times. I like the idea of the Faeries controlling things behind the scenes. What I disliked was the two-dimensionality of the mother figures in this book. I like my villains more complex and not just evil for evil's sake. Most toxic people I know at least pretend to be good and think of themselves as good. Andrew Sean Greer's Less. Loved this. Mostly the sense of humour of Arthur Less as he went from one mishap to another. I encountered this one via Barnes & Noble's Blind Date with a Book display in Austin.

Walk with me on rocky paths along an algaed-creek

Your off-lead dog leading us

Walk with me shivering on ice carpets

To tres bon restaurants and palaces of art

Walk with me past Middle Age baby Jesus painted gold


Sit with me, in a chair for one, our glassed-over eyes scanning for significance

Your side pressed close to mine, comforting

Sit with me on your porch puffing smoke into the evening air

Your dog dropping slobbered toys on our laps

Sit with me, let’s watch grass grow and wither

Leaves fall and reappear


Ride me, cry out to me with naught to tell me but my name

Ride me, your hips and lips erasing all words mis-written on my page

Ride me to that oblivion where the whole world shoots through us quaking


Delude me, tell me I’m not unimportant, I’m your one

Delude me, let me hope our love endures all nights to come

Delude me, and kiss me when you walk me to the door.

American Identity Card

I composed the following poem in 2011, frustrated that America backed Israel's efforts to block the declaration of Palestinian statehood. The point of departure is a famous lament by Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish.


Inscribe that I’m American
With a treasury overfull of empty promises
I give borrowed money to your enemies
To buy the truncheons thwacking your knees
My silence highers a concrete wall between your eyes
and your uprooted trees
While bullets rip the flesh of destinies
And fiery ordnance whose solemn syllable decrees
Deceitful vows of vengeances

Eclipse

by Gus Ginsburg


Our moon bathes in sunlight
And we admire his scarred handsomeness
When our world with its bills and bickering interposes
Blocking the moon’s view of his beloved
He knows her smile is not for him
His face darkens like a man too-oft defeated
Outshone by every tiny insignificant star

Translation of my Hebrew Poem

I awoke from a wondrous dream
And found a hair, long and brunette
Asleep on my pillow
A souvenir of evenings of joyful give-and-take
And desire which shook the world
Hewing smiles onto the faces of blushing gods

The thin hair which emanated and fell
Framed affection-bearing eyes
And naughty bitey teeth
And curled lips, aroused
From which flowed words wise and funny
This same hair is a complex universe in itself
A double-helix book, her recipe inscribed

I grasped the hair in my hand
And raised her universe to my lips
And kissed what remained of her
I awoke alone

התעוררתי מחלום מופלא

ומצאתי שערה חומה וארוכה

ישנה על פני כרי

מזכרת ערבים מלאים במשא ומתן עליז

ותאווה שהרעידה את העולם

שחצבה חיוכים בפני האלהים הסמוקים

השערה הדקיקה שנבעה ונפלה

מיסגרה עיניים הרוחשות חיבה

ושיניים הנושכות ושובבות

ושפתיים כנופות ומגורות

זרמו מהן מילים מצחיקות וחכמות

ואותה שערה היא תבל מורכבת בעצמה

ספר סליל-כפול ורשום בו מתכונהּ



אחזתי את השערה בידי

והגבתי את תבלהּ לפי

ונשקתי את שנשארה איתי

והתעוררתי ערירי

Update

I haven't updated lately. I was hoping for some good news regarding publication of Bride of the Golem, but haven't yet received it, though I am still optimistic. In the meantime, I had some very sad news, namely, that the Bride of Ginsburg has had enough of me and wants to divorce. So of late I've been preoccupied with figuring out what to do and where to go next--Haifa and Austin were my top choices--and packing up my library [oh if I only had it all on an e-reader!] and other belongings. So last Friday, against my will, I signed a Get (a Jewish bill of divorce) releasing a woman I still love very dearly from her marriage to me. I don't think I've ever NOT wanted anything so badly in my life. I've come back to Austin for the time being, though Haifa might still be a possibility. I have many pals and loved ones in Texas and they are easing the pain of losing my best friend. I suppose that sounds a bit harsh. We are splitting as amicably as possible, and she's been mostly kind and considerate during this process. Nonetheless, for over a decade and a half, she was my dance partner in crime, travelling companion and a million things more. Although at times I go to pieces about the split up, I am also very grateful to her for fifteen beautiful years. Back in the place I used to call home, things have been surprisingly good. In addition to seeing some of my favorite people, I've had breakfast tacos, several varieties of Shiner and Live Oak beer and Hyde Park fries. I heard an amazing jazz ensemble last night at The Elephant Room. I swam in Barton Springs Pool today--a few of the ladies were swimming and sunbathing topless, and boobs miraculously improve my mood. Tonight I am seeing one of my favorite bands, The Gourds. And soon, very soon, a publisher will say "you are hereby Holy to me with this contract according to the laws of copyright" to The Bride of the Golem. And we'll all dance a hora. GG

A Charming Story at the Liars' League

One of my favourite things to do here in London is to attend short story readings by professional actors at the Phoenix Pub in Cavendish Square. Last week I especially enjoyed a story by Steve Wasserman of the Short Story Book Club. I am posting a link to the delightful reading of "Kiss-Kill", a story in epistolary form of a seduction. When done well, like i this piece and also Frobisher's chapters in David Mitchell's Cloud Atlas or the chapters narrated by Eunice Park in Gary Shteyngart's Super Sad True Love Story epistolary storytelling can be quite effective. I've also seen it done badly, but not this time. What makes it work is the strength of the narrative voice Wasserman employs, which is carried well, indeed, enhanced by Cliff Chapman's reading. Why not experience it for yourself? Here's the link:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aN2XPzyA8mA&list=UUwYoiN_o-hTb6461eHR2Q0w&index=1&feature=plpp_video

Enjoy.

On Returning to Austin for a week

I arrived at the Austin airport, turned the radio to Ko-op 91.7, and was serenaded by the legendary Don Walser (z"l) yodeling like God's favorite angel, welcoming me home. I'm very lucky to have heard him play back in the 1990s, his audience a mix of his family, traditional country western enthusiasts, and tattooed & pierced alternative people. He walked table to table at Jovita's greeting those who came out to see him. In 1994, I watched him with pride as he and Jimmie Dale Gilmore opened for Johnny Cash at the Erwin Center.

What else can I report? I'm making a concentrated effort to arrange a ketubah signing for Bride of the Golem. Will pass along the good news when it is confirmed.