A Visit With Dooley

Buddy Dooley dropped by my pad over the weekend. A mercurial character, you never know what will happen with Buddy when his dander is raised. He reminds me of one of those stuffed toys with a tiny motor in it that your sister had when you were growing up. Wind it up, set it on the floor, and watch it run in circles like a cat chasing its own tail.

Dooley brought along a few micro brews, his rustic old tape player, and we talked.

BD: Testing…testing 1,2,3…

TS: You should invest in a new player. Go digital, high tech. What kind of beer did you bring?

BD: Never mind the beer. If I decide you should have a beer you may have a beer. If I decide you are not deserving of a beer you will not have a beer.

TS: You’re a tough character, Dooley.

BD: That is correct. How are things in the imperium, Simons? The holy world of publishing? It’s good to see you are not dead or incapacitated in any noticeable way. We haven’t talked in weeks. What’s new, pussycat?

TS: Jesus…

BD: Speaking of which. What do you think of Gov. Rick Perry? Makin’ a run? He gonna win it?

TS: I think he and Bachmann will start an affair on the campaign trail. In a huge October surprise the media will reveal Michele and Rick share an affinity for bondage and kinky sex. The story will break on TMZ. Romney will slide in. Obama will rout him in the G.E.

BD: Do you like Obama?

TS: No. Next question.

BD: Is he worse than Dubya?

TS: Same horse. Different color.

BD: Quite.

TS: I do think many racists in the US hate Obama for all the wrong reasons. They hate him because he’s half black. He was born in Kenya, right? They’re torn, though. The hate is sometimes eclipsed by their love because he assassinated bin Laden. And Americans, particularly the right, love assassination. But the far right is nervous. The black revolution is playing out in their feverish dreams. It’s odd, but remember, these people are revisionist crazies. For many, everything progressive that has happened since Ozzie and Harriet were on TV has been just plain wrong. Civil rights. The war on poverty. Feminism. Sexual equality. Gay marriage. You name it. Not to over generalize or anything.

BD: Who is a bigger threat to liberty—Bachmann or Perry?

TS: They’re both dangerous. But let’s not talk about this. This is depressing. Thing is the world was never the way these people imagine it in the first place. This really isn’t worth discussing in my opinion.

BD: Sexier? Bachmann or Palin?

TS: Dooley… Are you going there?

BD: Don’t tell me you wouldn’t.

TS: Give me a beer, you idiot.

(I was surprised here. Buddy shared his beer without protest.)

TS: (smacking my lips) Aaaaaah. Curve Ball Blonde Ale. Good stuff.

BD: Moving on to the press, TS…

TS: A good year, Buddy. A real good year. Had some good help, excellent advice, made deals with three highly accomplished writers who jumped on board. The press has legitimacy now, driven by quality work that people who give a damn about books will notice. I’m convinced of that. Over time, this work will stick out. We’ll be discovered. The press, I mean. The writers are already known. I’m proud and pleased they came aboard. It’s a nice fit. The world will catch up one day.

BD: And they are…

TS: The Deemer brothers, Bill and Charles, and K.C. Bacon. All three brought it, delivered the goods. Better than I imagined it could be.

BD: How’s your novel going?

TS: Not quite as well, BD. I gave it to a good reader, a solid critic. He tore it apart. I’ll take his word for it. Writing a novel is the hardest goddamn thing to do. Even a passable one. Mine needs a lot of work. Eventually, I’ll get going on it again, from scratch quite possibly. A complete re-write. That’s what it needs. But I’m not overly worried about it. If it comes, fine. If not I won’t shoot myself like Hem or Hunter. That would be a waste and a grand delusion. Those guys were great writers. I don’t match up with their prose, and I don't own a shotgun.

BD: Anything else cookin’?

TS: I’m planning a book with Charles Lucas, the ceramic artist, photographer and painter. He is working hard, getting his images just right for an art book. We’ll see. I don’t have a deadline or anything. Not at this time, though that may happen down the road. I think Bacon has something up his sleeve as well. Another art book, because K.C. is also an artist. It’s important that we get his work out there, in print. It’s Round Bend, Buddy, a work-in-progress and the establishment of a legacy. This is for friends, family, and the historians. The work can’t stop. If the public picks up on it, hooray!

BD: Well, you do indeed make it sound important. I understand you are a football fan.

TS: I am. I’ll admit it.

BD: Are you going to get naked now and charge me out of the three-point stance like that drunk kid at Oregon State who charged the police?

TS: That kid transferred to one of the Montana schools. State, I believe.

BD: Fit in there I guess. Have you ever drove a car at 118 MPH in a speed trap between Albany and Eugene and gotten away with it?

TS: Ninety-nine, until the wheels went wobbly and I figured I’d better back off. Didn’t see a cop. One didn’t evidently see me, either. Another time, I raced from San Jose to Eugene with some friends. We picked cars up at an auction in San Jose and drove hard through the night back to Eugene. Nearly died in the Siskiyou Mountains. Had a little drift, fishtailed somewhat. Car was gutless. By the time I moved to New England in 1974 I had that stuff out of my system.

BD: Is Chipper Kelly on the up and up?

TS: Is college football corrupt?

BD: Hmmmm… You’re a bit much at times, TS. Do you admire Phil Knight?

TS: Buddy, I can feel you egging me on. Are you looking for a fight?

BD: Before you get all pissy, tell me something…

TS: Sure, Dooley.

BD: Do you expect me to give you another beer?

(click)



TS