metasymptom

This blog is perhaps woefully out of date. But, who knows, it’s an experiment to begin with. So maybe its posts are remarkably timed with what you should be paying attention to, precisely when you’re meant to pay attention to it.

During the past couple of months I have been performing and recording with Emperor Norton’s Stationary Marching Band and What Time It It, Mr. Fox? (wait, why do I keep finding myself in musical projects whose names are as ponderous as books that start with phrases like, “Call me Ishmael”?) And I’m about to go into the studio with my (and my partner Vessela Stoyanova’s) twisted psychedelic-metal-meets-Balkan-folk-song creation, Bury Me Standing. That session promises bloodshed of one form or another, so … suffice it to say I’m getting grounded. We’re recording on the leap year, no less.

The writing is plodding along. I have a small piece coming out in Wired tomorrow. And a nerdy-but-accessible piece about sociopolitical and experiential crises associated with psychopharmaceuticals, coming out in the Yale Journal of Biology and Medicine next month.

More. Soon.

Sooner.

My blog begins. Words tomorrow. But, here, we are clearly off to an auspicious start: