Cities burning in the American night

Thoughts on graduation and resistance

My daughter is graduating from college this weekend.

If I was a character in a novel, watching the news and thinking about my daughter’s future, I would be anxious and full of dread. I’d be sitting by the window, stirring my coffee, thinking pensive thoughts.

I’m not doing any of those things because I’m not worried about my daughter. I’m not worried about her because she’s intelligent, hardworking, fearless, and compassionate. Also, she’s not a racist or a transphobe or a misogynist. She’s not rage-watching Fox News and lashing out at the world like our worse-than-incompetent president.

I am, however, thinking about my own graduation. In the spring of 1992 I was graduating with an English degree from a small state school in southwest Virginia and my prospects were not looking so good.

Last weekend I met Melissa Agudelo, who gave the keynote address for the High Tech High Graduate School of Education graduation ceremony. She mentioned in her speech that she went to college in Virginia so I told her afterward that I attended the finest institution of higher learning in the state.

“And where would that be?” she asked.
”Radford University.”
”Oh,” she said, “I see,” and diplomatically praised the campus for its architecture.

Radford University is not the best school in Virginia. It’s not even in the top ten twenty. But the education I received was just what this ambitious but insecure writer needed. Many fine teachers and scholars in the English department took me under their collective wing and exposed me to everything from Thomas Pynchon to Kenneth Pathan, Virginia Woolf to Djuna Barnes.

I wrote my honors thesis on Jack Kerouac and went to Dublin to present a paper on Finnegan’s Wake at the International James Joyce Symposium. When my mentor and advisor Dr. Timothy Poland invited Allen Ginsberg to campus, I was among a handful of students who got to meet with him and listen to him tell stories about Jack Kerouac and Bill Burroughs and recite William Blake from memory. So, yes, a first-rate education.

I remember my graduation ceremony very vividly. I remember it was bright and sunny. We were sitting outdoors on folding chairs and my father got a sunburn. I remember watching the weather vane atop the roof of a nearby dorm sway this way and that, as if it was just as uncertain as I felt—and with good reason. We were several days into the LA Uprising. I remember the dumb-ass school president giving a speech about how bright our futures were and I could barely contain my scorn. The second largest city in the country was literally on fire and he’s talking about our bright futures?

I felt like standing up on my chair and declaring, “CITIES ARE BURNING IN THE AMERICAN NIGHT!” My own Allen Ginsberg moment, but I did nothing. I sat and clapped and accepted my degree. I couldn’t wait for my parents to leave so I could drop acid with my friends.

Allen Ginsberg at Reed College

The truth of the matter was I was already giving serious consideration to moving to LA that summer, which none of my friends in Virginia could believe. I’d been in the Navy and traveled all over the world. I’d been to LA. I’d seen cities. I’d gotten lost in places that my friends would never see, couldn’t imagine. I wasn’t media savvy, and I was more romantic than cynical, but I wasn’t afraid of the news on TV, not when I had Jack and Allen and a whole sick crew of literary heroes telling me to go, go, go.

As William P. Mayhew drunkenly proclaims in Barton Fink, “I’m going to mosey on down to the Pacific and from there I’ll improvise.”

Which is exactly what I did.

(Barton Fink is a dark little movie about Hollywood, but it was weirdly aspirational for me. It would not be a stretch to say I moved to LA for the vibes. It also didn’t hurt than my cousin Mark and my shipmate Skip both lived in North Hollywood, but I digress.)

I’m not worried about my daughter because she’s already got it all figured out. She’s graduating with a degree in Economics with an emphasis in poverty and inequality. After her internship at the Treasury Department last year, she was able to use actual California housing data for her project on affordable housing. Last week, after she got back from Punk Rock Bowling, she received an award for best Honors Thesis in Economics. The paper is called “The Amazon Effect: How Corporate Entry Shapes Unionization in Local Labor Markets.” This summer she has a paid internship at the largest union in the private sector. She wants to work for the government—not so she can tear apart families and inflict traumas on communities like ICE is doing right now—but so that she can help solve the housing crisis.

Am I worried about the world? Oh yeah, but I’m not worried about my daughter or her place in it because she’s going to be just fine. She’s going to be part of the solution at a time when many of us are conflicted about its problems.

The way I see it, I have two jobs: get out of her way and take care of myself so that she doesn’t have to worry about me.

It may be too late for my Allen Ginsberg moment, but I have a few Barton Fink moves left in me…

Let the sailor spin the dame, Barton

Miscellaneous Mayhem

With everything that’s happening in LA, there’s a lot to take in. My understanding of what I’m seeing and hearing is amplified by these writers and outlets:

LA Taco has been my go-to source for independent news in LA since the demise of the LA Weekly. You can start by following them on Instagram but please consider signing up for their newsletter and becoming a member.

I’ve been following

Greg Olear

since Trump was elected the first time and I appreciate his deep dives and historical takes. His latest on the Insurrection Act is essential reading.

Or, if you want to see fascist twerp Stephen Miller get called “a little rat-faced Nazi bitch,” I can’t recommend

Hamilton Nolan

’s How Things Work strongly enough.

Who is more brave, do you think? The immigrant woman who works cleaning up office buildings who is willing to come out to a protest and hold a sign supporting a man who was arrested for opposing injustice? Or the six-foot-tall weightlifting ICE agent with a gun and a badge and the force of law behind him who is so scared of anyone knowing who he is that he has America’s worst Congressmen filing bills to make it a crime to reveal his identity?

Sean Johnson is an LA musician and writer who pens a thoughtful Substack called Sean’s Mind. This week he reflected on going to a protest in downtown LA and how that experience was not reflected in anything he saw on the news. It’s an excellent reminder not to be led by the nose by sensational sound bites, video clips, and headlines. We’re all guilty of it. Seek substance over sensationalism.

Talk About the Passion

I was recently a guest on the Talk About the Passion Podcast with Christian Campagna with a focus on my novel Make It Stop and how it relates to what’s happening now. I also talk about this here newsletter and the kind of stories I’m always looking to include in Orca Alert!

Back to Las Vegas

I’ll be doing an event with Keith Morris at the Punk Rock Museum in Las Vegas on Saturday June 21 from 7pm to 9pm. It’s free and open to the public. I made a little video with all the details… I’ll be there all weekend so if you’re in Las Vegas hit me up!

Thanks for reading! And thanks again to those of you who upgraded to a paid subscription last week. Your support makes Message from the Underworld possible and it really makes a difference. If you liked this newsletter you might also like my latest novel about healthcare vigilantes Make It Stop, or the paperback edition of Corporate Rock Sucks: The Rise & Fall of SST Records, or my book with Bad Religion, or my book with Keith Morris. I have more books and zines for sale here. And if you’ve read all of those, consider checking out my latest collaboration The Witch’s Door and the anthology Eight Very Bad Nights.

Message from the Underworld comes out every Wednesday and is always available for free, but paid subscribers also get my deepest gratitude and Orca Alert! on most Sundays. It’s a weekly round-up of links about art, culture, crime, and killer whales.

Hat tip to

Fire Red Sky

.