In 1986, I encountered the phenomenon of walking under streetlights and having them suddenly go out - there I stood, bewildered in darkness. I began to take fuller notice only after these outages occurred again and again [and again]. I started to write about the phenomenon and to wonder whether I might be their cause. These notes became the early seeds of the novel, excerpts of which were first published in Lowest Common Denominator as "Confessions of a Beer Mystic." [Cover by David Sandlin]
The novel has lived many lives inside me as well as elsewhere. It has shown me that reality and truth are wobbly gents at best. Vision leaning precariously against a lamppost made of turkish taffy. Was it the first concrete lingual and spirits-ual association og beer + mysticism? Probably not. But it certainly has entered into the ephemeral zeitgeist or, in Dutch, tijdgeest, geest meaning spirit, whch seems homonymically related to gist meaning yeast. You catch my drift – er, draft. The novel is a search for the detritus attached to meaning, meaning hinting at identity and identity dazzling us into believing there is meaning. The film would be a Godard production with Kourismaki as grumbling co-cineaste and with Bukowski grumpily denouncing the script co-wriitten by Salinger and Pynchon with a nod to Queneau. The soundtrack would be Ligeti conducting Mark E. Smith and the Fall in a piece composed by Tom Waits in a Glenn Branca and Ryuiki Sakamoto style. The actors would all be unknowns. Read more about in Beer Mystic.