The entire text thus far (vols. 1 through 3) has been (lightly) edited, correcting some infelicities such as erratically capitalized Graces and a stray “hell” or two, lodged in the wrong mouth; the edited text has been poured into ebook shapes and published, and flowed into newly redesigned paperback templates in the new layout software, and tweaked and kerned to de-widow and un-orphan, mostly, and it’s mostly in shape, mostly. Still fiddling and tweaking. But! That means the PDF ebook of vol. 3 is almost done, and the edited and redesigned PDF ebooks of vols. 1 and 2, and we’re just about ready to take the next step in un-Amazoning and printing some paperbacks through a much more reputable or at least less monopsonically destructive company.
Then I just need to redesign the website, or at the very least update it with the edited text...
And! But! Also! Whither vol. 4, you might well ask. What’s up with Betty Martin. —Right now, I feel like that bit in “Marquee Moon” when Tom Verlaine’s guitar is about to go soaring off from Fred Smith’s bedrock bass and the crashing surf of Billy Ficca’s drums and Richard Lloyd’s relentless lighthouse of a riff, climbing in what I’m told is a mixolydian mode until the whole thing somehow doesn’t break apart but crashes all together into whatever itself is, and the thing about that is you don’t just have to have the soaring to make it do what it does, but also the bedrock and the surf and the lighthouse, so that the crash when it comes (and it will come) doesn’t end up breaking the whole dam’ thing apart. —So I’ve been trying my hand at outlining.
I’ve done it before: you may well have seen this image, on a scrap of paper much softened with age:
First scribbled down maybe fifteen years ago, now; a suggestion of a roadmap, a guess as to a possible route through the first two volumes. —But we’re further along, now; there’s more moving parts, and I hacked my way through vol. 3 without any idea where I was going, except a question, and its (second) answer. A guess, a suggestion, a scribble is no longer enough. Behold: my stab at a Levitz Paradigm:
Well, anyway. It’s a start.