I wrote a long thing about race, class, violence, and terminal-stage global capitalism last month, if only to clarify my own thinking, and then I set it aside. It seemed like a good time to shut up. I rented a hundred dollar-a-month basement room in a defunct knife factory, rolled a Persian carpet over the concrete, and set up my recording rig, and I've been working on a solo/acoustic retrospective, trying to find my way back alone into the wilderness of twenty-odd songs I wrote over the last twenty-odd years. I don't know which ones will be collected until I know whether they can play nicely together, but I suppose it will come out later this year.

What else? I deposited seven tons of crushed stone around the foundation of the house with a shovel and wheelbarrow, like a medieval peasant, the pandemic having destroyed most of my best and long-held excuses, and moisture having rotted the sill on the north side of the house last year. I've been listening to the Stephen Mitchell translation of the Iliad (read by the exquisitely pitched Alfred Molina) while mowing the lawn or doing the dishes, and thinking about the rhythm of the language (I ordered the Emily Wilson translation of the Odyssey, written in iambic pentameter, for contrast). I read and enjoyed my friend Callan Wink's lovely recent novel August, and Russell Rowland's In Open Spaces – which Billy gave me halfway through a tour, when we generally finish our books and trade up – both Montana novels, and each of them exhibiting a different species of deep quiet. Also, two memoirs by women about growing up in poverty in the American outlands: Heartland, by Sarah Smarsh and Educated, by Tara Westover, fascinating and compelling. Then, for a variety of reasons having to do with our domestic news cycle and politics, I re-read Cormac McCarthy's Border Trilogy, this time in reverse order. It may actually be sadder backwards, it's hard to say. I had dinner with my family a hundred nights in a row, for the first time ever. I guess sometime we'll all be out running around again, but not for a while, and I intend to enjoy sitting still.

'MILES' LIVESTREAM – In the meantime I thought I might try to make a living, so I'm going to start playing through my old records in series of (livestream) concerts, starting with the first album I recorded, Miles From the Lightning (31 July, 8PM EDT/USA - www.jeffreyfoucault.com). I'm going to have to get on the internet and find some lyrics. I'll announce broadcast dates for other future full-album livestreams later, as I sort out a complex and demanding schedule of camping, fishing, and yard work.

Jeffrey Foucault performs the songs from his 2001 debut solo album 'Miles From the Lightning.' DONATIONS: PAYPAL - www.paypal.me/JEFFREYFOUCAULT VENMO - www.venmo.com/Jeffrey-Foucault CHECK - Jeffrey Foucault: P.O. Box #9 - 01370 PURCHASE MILES FROM THE LIGHTNING

THANKS – Thanks for supporting my work in the lean time. Streaming platforms like Spotify and Soundcloud have created direct-to-artist donation buttons, allowing listeners to pay whatever they wish, and unsurprisingly it generally turns out to be more than the ten-thousandth of a cent each stream normally rakes in. I've had a steady patronage, but the methods involved don't leave any way to say thanks directly, so I'll say it now. You're real nice people, I always said so.

THE WAY IT'S GONNA BE LITTLE DARLIN' – My beautiful wife Kris Delmhorst has a beautiful new record called Long Day in the Milky Way due out next month, and she's released two singles from that album thus far, the second one a cover of the perennially badass Rickie Lee Jones's song, "The Horses".

BILLY CONWAY – Finally, I want to update you all on Billy, because so many people have kindly written to ask how he's getting along. I apologize for the quiet. I was loathe to write anything about his illness in the first place – not all lives are lived on the internet – but the outpouring of love and support was overwhelming, and sweet. He's alright, home in Montana and recuperating during a few months between treatments while they monitor his response, and determine the course of ongoing treatment. He's fishing a lot, reading, and working around the property. He told me to tell everyone they better start up a Kickstopper for him (this is an idea Bill pioneered, in which money is raised to prevent an artist from making an album), because he's been writing a lot of songs. If you want to check up on him, you can do that, here.

That's it from high summer around here. The truck is running rough, but it's running, and I feel about the same. I hope you and your people are well.

July 2020