Back in December when I visited England for the last of Eric’s gigs there, I ordered mulled wine in an East London pub where we met our friend Tom for lunch. It was called the Hare & Hounds but Tom said the locals knew it as the Hairy Hands, for when it had mostly been frequented by workmen. Now it was a little bit posher as big cities can be these days. Christmas was coming and I imagined mulled wine as a lovely mellow beverage, all those holiday spices gently warmed along with red grapes, a hint of alcohol festively acceptable in the middle of the day.
Instead I got a bar mug filled with what had to be the dregs of any bottle of red wine the barman didn’t have the heart to throw out, stewed in one of those electric soup pots, ladled up with a chuckle like “oh think you’re fancy do you? Why didn’t you just order a pint like a regular person?”
I didn’t spit it out across the table. I sipped gamely for a minute or two, then gave up and ordered a can of sparkling water.
Consider this post the equivalent of pub-mulled wine: not the dregs exactly but an accumulation of thoughts and news I’ve been too distracted by the end of one year and beginning of another to do much with except throw them all together. Hope it won’t put you off—I promise to do better next time!
Eric had cataract surgery, requiring me to drive him to and from the appointment on the outskirts of Albany, that part of any city with a Walmart, Lowe’s, Sams Club - the big box stores. I needed to wait for a couple hours to pick him up after the doctors did their stuff (it all went fine by the way!) I know there’s good Vietnamese food and more IN Albany but didn’t have the energy to navigate back towards town, past the behemoth Empire State Plaza and find a place to park etc. I didn’t have the brain power to contemplate Albany, the capital of New York state. There’s so much to think about with Albany but sometimes I just can’t. So for Eric’s first eye (they do the procedure a week or two apart) I hung out in a Panera and it was awful: stale pastry, weak coffee, relentless Americana music (the kind with those wordless choruses ah-oh oh-HO! begging the listener to sing along instead of a songwriter coming up with anything memorable and worth repeating - oh why had I forgotten my Airpods?) There was a time fifteen or so years ago where we’d be touring in America and actually look forward to finding a Panera on the highway. It’s really gotten so far from what it was. Which maybe wasn’t much to begin with, but back then seemed better than say…Subway?
For the second procedure, I found myself back at the Panera, sitting in the parking lot asking myself why would I put myself through that again? But the other nearby choices were no better— Dunkin, or Starbucks. An eatery called CoreLife I feel sure must be connected to the massive LifeChurch complex nearby. I decided to navigate a little further away for the type of old school diner I tend to avoid these days because the syrup is “Pancake Syrup” instead of maple, there’s usually a Sysco truck parked out back full of frozen, processed food deliveries, so nothing they serve is any good for you or even good-tasting. BUT there was enjoyment in the Old 76 diner, it had cute deep red vinyl booths, faux Tiffany lamps, a case of pies and Gunsmoke playing on a TV set. The waitresses were tough older broads with hearts of gold. It made me happy that it’s been hanging on “since 1973.” I guess these diners have always served processed foods but we didn’t used to know or care— God forgive me I fed my daughter Pop Tarts, toaster strudels and Lucky Charms every day of her young life! Anyway, I gave in to the joys of the old diner and figured I’d eat healthy later that day.
I enjoyed talking with Vick Mickunas for the Book Nook back in November when I was on the road. The interview is archived here. I first met Vick at WYSO in Yellow Springs, Ohio in 1997 when my first solo album came out and he had me on his show at the Antioch radio station—I was so charmed by Yellow Springs at the time a few years later I went to a writing workshop there. I appreciate him having me on to talk about my first book, while I push to finish the second.
And speaking of books, it meant a lot to have Thurston Moore give a shout-out to Girl To City in a Rough Trade interview for his memoir.
Kim France interviewed me for her Girls of a Certain Age Substack. I believe you can read the interview with a free 7 day subscription. Her questions, coupled with the revisions of my new memoir, had me digging deep. Maybe working on this second book is at least part of the reason I’m having to come up with this clip post —I need to finish the draft I’m working on (the third version, with just thirty more pages to go) and move this book to completion. Even when I’m not writing I’m going over stuff in my mind: how much to tell? Who will want to read this? It’s a matter of keeping going AND not being distracted by all the helpful writing Substacks I subscribe to…well, it’s okay to be distracted sometimes but the main thing is to stick to some kind of quota and schedule, and to finish!
For Christmas I treated myself to an Apple Pencil for my iPad, in a quest to sketch more often. I put the Procreate app on my device months ago. It’s not the same as feeling the texture of paper and whatever pen or paint or pencil, but I’m determined to get back to regular drawing this year especially at those times I might just pick up my phone and start scrolling. I also signed up for the 30 Day Sketching Challenge from Susan Yeates. I love her encouragement and also her beautiful hair color. 3-5 minutes a day to get back in the habit—it’s not a lot!
My daughter’s been doing a monthly radio show for KCHUNG in Los Angeles. I always hear interesting stuff that’s new to me when I tune in. Her shows are archived here.
I worked an evening shift at the bookstore/bar last night—they’re becoming rarer and I value my time there and all the interactions more and more. I was hoping something magic would happen so I’d have the beginnings for a piece of writing, but the only thing of note last night was someone made a mess in the toilet and didn’t flush well enough and I ended up in there trying to clean things enough so that I didn’t feel bad for people to use the restroom. My friend SJ was the one who brought it to my attention in her elegant soft Southern drawl and we felt like we were in an Agatha Christie mystery but instead of trying to deduce who committed a murder it was…well, you get the idea. I was so wanting some glow of enchantment I could spin into a story summing up twelve years working in this place I love, but all I got was…shit. Although we did enjoy celebrating our friend Pauline’s birthday and I played an Alex Chilton disc about ten times.
I have three solo gigs in January: the NYC show, a rare house concert in the city, is just about sold out. Kingston is a fun series in a guitar store where I share the bill with author Tony Fletcher. And everyone loves Randy Now's Man Cave, new location in Hightstown NJ. Message me if you need more info! I look forward to playing old and new songs, trying to keep in practice for more touring when my new album comes out. We’ve sent it off to be mastered and I’ll hopefully have a release plan for it soon. There are eleven songs and it’s taken over three years to get it all together. “Hang In There With Me” is the album title.
This morning I found myself looking at photos I’d taken of my dad. He put us through hell the last few years, yet I look at these pictures and see a crazy twinkle in his eye and just think “damn I miss you so much—why? You’d beg me to come see you and as soon as I got there you’d ask when I was leaving, But you were my dad, there’ll never be another one.” Turning 65 at the end of this month doesn’t make me feel like I’m getting old, but somehow this thought, the finality of my father’s life, does.
I guess sitting with Eric in the eye surgery waiting area did too. I heard the man behind me say “Stephen Stills is 79 today,” as if that was impossible. I stopped myself from chiming in “Thank God he’s still here! Don’t you miss Croz, gone one year this month?” If I was going to get into the topic of Albany, I’d have to include the way they love their rock. But this here is mulled wine, thoughts in small splashes, so I’ll have to set that idea aside for a time when I can really get to grips with things.
"Who will want to read this?"
We will.
Looking forward to it.
It was fun reading about Vick Mickunas of WYSO, Yellow Springs, Ohio. When you came through Dayton, I reviewed you for the Dayton Daily News. When you asked if Erma Bombeck had lived there, I should've offered to take you to her gravesite, but I was a little slow on the uptake...too in awe of your music.
Me. I will read whatever you write. Mulled or not.
Happy 2024---it feels like you have big things and changes ahead!