Bring the Noise
So Brooklyn Magazine—a quarterly covering art, culture, and lit out where the beautiful people live—said something nice about the Luna Park Twitter feed last week:
And I thought: well, damn. I hadn’t been really doing anything with the website for a while. I had this whole excuse: there was enough conversation about lit mags, I didn’t need to horn in, and so on and so forth. And I had other things going on. A book, for example. Someone else has another book coming out next year. There’s enough stuff. So things got quiet.
But I think Brooklyn Magazine is right: “It’s an incredibly good problem to have.” Noise isn’t a problem. Or it’s a good problem. I remember cranking Op Ivy so fucking loud in my pickup there was just vibration; my eardrums were raw by the time I climbed out and the world came at me in waves. This was back when we smoked in public. When we changed our own oil and punk seemed sincere. (Now it’s post-Disney.)
And the mail’s still piling up. So there’s that, too.