Mateo Romero, Craig McDonald, a Satan Is Real review and interview, a new true crime piece, the joys of Facebook, three great albums

I took my kids to the Denver Art Museum over the weekend, and we got sucked into a great exhibit by an artist we'd never heard of, Mateo Romero. There were two paintings on display, the first being Bank Job (Bonnie and Clyde, Series #2):

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And the second, Voices at Wounded Knee, Series #2:

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It was a great exhibit, and included a video rig by which you could see Romero talk about his process, influences, and what he does with his downtime. Which included reading comic books and shooting guns, two things near and dear to the Whitmer clan.

Anyway, if you're around the Denver Art Museum, I highly recommend it. Me and the kids have been talking about it all week.

Media stuff around Satan Is Real has still been happening, of course, I've just been lazy about posting. Knoxville.com gave the book a really nice review, and Chris Mateer of the Uprooted Music Review interviewed me. There are several more write-ups to come that I know of, and I'll post those sometime around when they show up.

I've also got a true crime piece in Crime Factory 9 about a punk rock star I knew who was murdered. It comes thanks to a buddy of mine, Paul Schenk, who was much closer to her than I was, and worked on the piece with me. You can download it here.

I also finally read Craig McDonald's One True Sentence, which Charlie Stella has been recommending for a long time. And, yeah, it's spectacular. Anybody who has read this blog for any length of time knows I have a complicated relationship with Hemingway. But not with this book. It's beautiful. And the more so because, for all it does everything a crime novel should do, it'll change the way you read Hemingway. Especially the story "Clean Well-Lighted Place."

Switching topics, I don't really know about half of the people I'm friends with on Facebook. Which is fine. I just accept anyone who wants to be friend and who ain't obviously linked to a porn site, and don't worry about it much.

As a consequence, I've gotten to know some interesting folks over the last couple of years. Like the gentleman who posted the following:

So, I became concerned about my son's anger about a week ago. He keeps posting right here on facebook statuses of angered responses, a picture of his bloody hand, and his bad language. These are things I didn't raise him to do. I call his mother about his issues. I ask her to monitor his online activity and to get him some counseling. By the way, his mother and I have been divorced for ten years. She kind of shuffles it off as no big deal. That night, my son unfriends me just because I love him and am concerned about his mental state. I saw him last weekend briefly and he ignored me! I want to be angry at him but I don't want to be at the same time. I want to give up my rights to him but I don't because I only have a year left of paying child support to him and I love him enough to reconcile with him in the future. What he doesn't know is I wanted to leave his mother before he was born. She had been raped by a black man within days before my son was conceived. I stuck around mainly to see if the child was mine. If he would've been black, I could leave. He was white instead. I've been grateful ever since. Due to his nearly 1 1/2 years absence and his hatred for my wife and me, I sometimes want to give up on him. I love him dearly. I want him back. But, he causes me too much pain right now.

I'm pretty sure I don't wanna know that asshole in any capacity. But, Jesus, how wonderful to have this social media world where everyone can let their ass can hang out, no matter how large or fucking ugly.

Lastly, somebody asked me recently if I'd posted a Best Of 2011 list anywhere. And the answer is no, and I'm not planning to. But I thought I would point to a few of the albums that really destroyed me this year. In no particular order:

Slim Cessna's Auto Club — Unentitled

Everybody knows Slim Cessna's Auto Club is the best live band in the world. But I'll make a case any day that they're one of the best bands in the world, period. And that Slim and Munly are the best gospel duo since Charlie and Ira, if I may say so myself.

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Josh T. Pearson — Last of the Country Gentlemen

This album fucked me up pretty good. There was one research trip to the San Luis Valley, where I don't think I listened to anything else, and I probably owe him royalties on my next novel I listened to him so much while writing it. One man, a guitar, and buckets full of heartbreak. In other words, perfect.

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Scott H. Biram — Bad Ingredients

Scott H. Biram's been one of my favorites for awhile, and this is, to my mind, his best album. It's rough, gorgeous, heartfelt, and lonesome. And if you spill beer on its guitars, it'll get down off the stage and kick your ass.

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That's all I got.