Essays, Interviews, Observations, Pop Culture, Stories, and other Dodginess

Visiting Michael Perry

Posted on January 30, 2013

alt = "author Michael Perry"

Michael Perry

Several years ago I received a book for Christmas. Population: 485 by Michael Perry was a piece my gifter thought I’d be taken with. I was. The book about Perry’s life in rural Wisconsin, working as a volunteer firefighter meeting his neighbors “one siren at a time” became an instant favorite of mine, as were his follow-up memoirs, Truck: A Love Story, Coop, and his latest, Visiting Tom, about Perry’s compelling older neighbor whose hobby is shooting a homemade cannon. These books aren’t just my favorites. Perry is a New York Times bestselling author. He also writes essays for national magazines, hosts the nationally syndicated Tent Show Radio, and performs and tours with his band the Long Beds. Perry recently took time out too chat after a speaking and musical performance at the University of Wisconsin-Eau Claire.

Writing Origins. “I was out of college and working as a nurse and quite by accident got interested in writing by a friend who’d been doing some freelancing. I had been writing some really awful poetry and somewhere in there I wound up at the library and checked out a book on how to be a writer. I decided to give the writing thing a try and thinking if it goes horribly wrong in six months I’ll just go back to working in the hospital. That’s still kind of the plan 20-some-years later. I still have my nursing license. I renew it every two years, but I just keep writing.”

Perry was also a voracius reader growing up on his rural Wisconsin farm. His mom taught him to read early on and because he had no TV and couldn’t go to the movies, that’s all he did. “While in some cases that could be negative, in my case it was positive because my mom filled the house with books.”

The first piece Perry sold was to a local magazine and it was about dating in the country when you grow up on a farm. “All I remember was the title, Courtin’ Country Style. Very cheesy but memorable.”

Perry combines a conversational blue-collar background with a real love for beautiful language. “I’ve been criticized for it. Some people say on one hand I’m trying to act like a regular guy, but on the other hand I’m overdoing it with fancy words. My bottom line on that is why let the fancy people have all the fancy words. I think sometimes it helps to heighten the humor.”

Music and Writing. “I used to write with music on all the time. Lately, I don’t know if it’s the age or not, but I do tend to write in silence more than I used to. But I still use music. Singer/songwriters have been such a huge influence on me as a writer. People like Steve Earle, Lucinda Williams, Patti Griffin and Fred Eaglesmith – they made me think you can do art without wearing pretty clothes.”

Perry said his band evolved over time by accident. Whenever he talks about the band he likes to point out he’s not a musician. “I know some guitar chords and I write all the songs and I do the singing, but I’ve spent my last 20-25 years hanging out with musicians and writing about musicians. Out of respect to their craft I play the guitar with the all the nuance of a guy cutting brush. And I write very simple songs.”

Steve Earle is Perry’s primary influence – literary, musically – whatever. “He changed my life because I’ll never forget the first time I heard Guitar Town. It was country I could relate too. And Exit O even more so. Which is kind of when I started wondering about writing. I remember raking hay at my dad’s farm and listening to that album, thinking, hey, this guy’s a rough neck. He wears boots and is writing very beautiful, powerful stuff. No way I’m saying I’d compare myself to him, but saying he gave me this idea that, yea, a knucklehead from a farm in Wisconsin can try writing.”

Perry was in his 30s when he first picked up a guitar. He used it as a break while writing. “I tend to write in long binges. I want to take a break but not turn that part of my head off. I’d go across the room and pick up the guitar and work on a song for awhile, so eventually I had a bunch of songs written.”

Perry’s friend, a musician who is still in the band, told him to do something with the songs. Then he booked the pair at a coffee shop. “I’m not saying I was nervous, but I ripped out a 60-minute set in 32 minutes flat. People seemed to like it and it wasn’t a complete train wreck.”

Perry recorded his first album in the basement of one of the early musicians in the band – a  man by the name of Justin Vernon. Readers might know him today as Bon Iver. “He’s also on the second album singing a little harmony. I always kid people, that he’ll come crawling back.”

Perry mentions Canadian singer/songwriter Kathleen Edwards in the new book. One of my favorite musicians, a few years ago I caught a show of hers at a historic venue (The Marx Bros. performed there) in Valparaiso, Ind. She also recorded Voyageur with Iver – whom she dated. “At a couple of her tour stops she’s given away copies of my books. Voyageur – I love that album. And my 5-year-old daughter, every time she comes up to hang out in my office she puts it on.”

How’s (Visiting) Tom? “The only thing he asked me to do was change his last name. After I was done I asked him if I got everything right. He said yea, you’re fine. He said you changed my name so I’m just telling everyone it’s fiction. I said, no, Tom, you can’t say that – it’s a serious issue in a non-fiction memoir. He thought he was doing me a favor.”

Filming Tom shoot his cannon for a book promo was an all-day affair – something Perry learned Tom complained about. “I felt bad for a few weeks because I didn’t want to put him through that. Then the day before I left on the book tour I stopped by to give him his copy. In a serious moment I said I wanted to thank him because he let me write about him and his life – that I appreciated it and don’t take it lightly. I also said I felt bad about the video and I appreciated his time because it really helped get the word out. He says, ‘oh yea, did you see that thing is up over 6,000 hits on YouTube?’ He’s been clicking on it to see how it’s doing.”

If you go to his website, you’ll see a picture of a treadmill desk Perry recently purchased. I didn’t know they existed. “It’s the most embarrassing thing ever and absolutely brilliant. I’m 48 now. I’ve always kept myself in relatively good shape. I’ve learned the hard way that 25 years of sitting is really awful for you. I’m having some of the same problems my brother the logger is. Well, that doesn’t make sense. He should be breaking down long before I am. Yesterday I walked six-and-a-half miles while I wrote. I’ve lost ten pounds and I feel good. It’s ridiculous. I cringe when I look at it. I can’t believe I have one but it’s been terrific and I’ve been amazed at the writing I can do. A rough draft I can crank. I still like to sit down at the desk when I line edit and revise because I just like to have the pen and paper and all that.”

Perry has two books under contract. One is a young adult novel “that sadly lacks vampires and/or unicorns.” Look for it early next year. He’s also working on another nonfiction memoir-type book about the French philosopher Montaigne. “Nibbling on the edges of philosophy and thought but also trying to equate it to day-to-day life. The opening scene right now – whether it will survive – is about me telling how last summer I tested an electric pig fence by grabbing it with my bare hand. Not the way to go about it really.”

alt = "New York Times bestselling author Michael Perry"

Michael Perry on the farm

For more on Michael Perry visit his website at sneezingcow.com.

Chicago Neighbors

Posted on January 23, 2013

Chicago Neighbors – The Dodgy’s first Chicago home was on Medill Street just down the block from Mickey’s Tavern. Here are just a few black-and-whites from the neighborhood. The first one features Pearl and Russian Annie. Pearl is a die-hard White Sox fan who can drink me, you, and anyone else under the table and off the block. Russian Annie was foul-mouthed, funny, and someone I helped walk home from the bar during a formidable Chicago snowstorm. In between them is not Bob, I don’t think, but I called him that because he was always tending bar at Bob Inn, a tavern just down the street on Fullerton across from the Fireside Bowl. The other guy I’m not sure. A soap dodger, I suppose.

Chicago neighborhood pic - Bucktown

Russian Annie and Pearl, with guy not named Bob in the middle and some other totter.

Next up is Elmer, the bartender at Mickey’s. I spent many a night helping him stock the bar. Poured a pint once in awhile too. Guinness, shimmess, I pour a fine Old Style.

Elmer the bartender at Mickey's in Bucktown

Elmer the bartender

Next up is guy not named Bob again, this time talking story with Hippie Man at the Bucktown Arts Fest.

Bucktown Arts Fest

Bob Inn guy and Hippie Man talking story at the Bucktown Arts Fest.

Queens of Bucktown, Chicago

Russian Annie and Pearl, Queens of Bucktown

And just for kicks…not long after these pics were taken I ventured on what would be the first of several trips to New Orleans.

New Orleans musicians

New Orleans musicians

Note: New pics won’t be looking so dodgy, as we’ve acquired a pro Canon DSLR that takes swell video as well. So there. Also, just finished interviewing best-selling author Michael Perry. The piece will be posted Wednesday night, Jan. 30. Cheers.

Letter From Time

Posted on January 19, 2013

A few days ago I went to check on my friend, reclusive author Clive Javanski. He was nowhere to be found. In his apartment I found this letter addressed to me. I’m not sure what to make of it. Apparently he believes he’s  found a way to go back in time to a particular place when he was in love. And lost. And he’s there now. More likely he’s drunk. But I’ll read on.

 

L,

I forgot I’m supposed to look out the door of study hall to watch Sloane walk by. She hit me in the shoulder later in the hall because I didn’t. She looked hurt.  Man, I remember how overwhelming it was now, to hear the bell and wait for her to walk by after her class. She’d briefly stop, wave, and smile that silly but pretty grin of hers.

I’m kind of in a daze but it’s helped, I think. You see, after looking at old letters she wrote me I realized I was kind of a wimp. But this second chance, instead of making me a desperate freak I thought it might, it has found me detached. It’s throwing her off, I think. I wasn’t like this the first time.

I’m walking down the hall thinking of things that are supposed to happen. Trying to remember.
It’s fanatical because I barely remember anything. Only when it happens do I then remember. Like déjà vu.

People are writing notes like crazy. And the way the girls fold them, it’s methodical. It’s art. You know that one, favorite, wrinkled,  yellowed note I held onto from Sloane? Written on graph paper? It was the first one she wrote that ended with “Love, Sloane.”  I just got the original from her today. When she handed it to me I was astounded. And reading it for the “first” time, there was that déjà vu feeling again. Because I didn’t really remember reading it before, although technically I did?

There are a few moments I absolutely remember and one is supposed to take place this Saturday. It’s when I was alone with Sloane at the park. We were sitting on swings. She started to swing out in a circular motion around me, tangling our chains. Then she stopped and unwound, resulting in her bumping into me so we where side by side. I’ve never forgotten that. I won’t change that.

There is only one thing I remember that I will absolutely change. Later that night when I was getting ready to leave. We were in front of her house. I was on my bike and she was standing next to me.

Up to that point we hadn’t kissed yet. And I didn’t know it then, but we never would kiss. That moment, It was one of those awkward ones, when you each say “goodbye” but neither of you leave. I remember the October wind blowing her hair. The color her lips looked like in the reflection of the moon and street lamp. She closed her eyes. I was supposed to move in. I didn’t even have to move my bike, she was that close.

But I didn’t.

I chickened out. I rode off. Deep down I knew I’d never have that chance again. Now I do. This is my second chance. There will be a kiss. I don’t know what will happen after. What it might change. Maybe nothing. Maybe I just come back and have that memory of it really happening. And that would be enough for me.

CJ

P.S. By the way. Heather, Sloane’s friend…she’s been giving me strange looks. Do you think she knows? I doubt it. I recall she gave those to me the first time, too.