Killing Calvin I want to be more like Bob Dylan, and I want to get it right, so I study him like my life depends on it. I pore over every word, study him like holy men study the words in red. A recent example. The day after iconic songwriter Kris Kristofferson
Ghosts. In the spring I went to see some petroglyphs. Rock art. It was about a three hour drive, up into the mountains, out into the high desert. Like a lot of the most beautiful things you can see in California, it was a three hour drive through a bunch of
Remembering Kris Kristofferson Note: I finally got a new computer. That means I can get back to the newsletter in earnest, and also that I’m more broke than normal. Paid subscriptions or donations (my PayPal is kaleb.c.horton at gmail) are especially appreciated right now. And if you live in the
killing time, no. 3 I‘m pretty upset that my laptop isn’t here yet. That’s a problem. A sickness. I know deep down that it’s because I’m used to the depravity, hedonism, sinfulness of Amazon shipping, where I can order like a surge protector and it’s at my door
killing time, no. 2 Evidently a presidential candidate debate is happening tomorrow. Guess it’s theoretically interesting that neither candidate is an incumbent and one is an ex-president, but debates are archaic excuses for media bums to hear themselves talk. Glad I don’t have cable anymore; I was paying like $100 a month
killing time, no. 1 Welcome to the first installment of my new blog series, killing time. This is where I write on my phone about anything I find interesting while I wait for a new laptop and start doing honest writing again. Here goes: One of those ”this is how you spend your day?
a quick update Howdy all. Just wanted to let everybody know I’m not dead. After an obnoxious amount of research, I got the exact computer I needed. It was stupid expensive but I use it 8 hours a day. A million years ago my granddad told me that if you use a
hoo boy, another announcement We love life, folks. We’re really doing frankly very much with it. Anyway, on Friday my computer broke. On Saturday my finger broke (fell on an oil slick on Ventura Blvd). I live for this stuff and I find it excellent. But the newsletter’s going on pause until
The Only Article Ever Written About Bob Dylan and Willie Nelson. There’s a new Bob Dylan movie coming out this Christmas, and you couldn’t pay me to see it unless you’re a magazine editor who can pay me to see it. Even if it were executed perfectly, the whole idea is pointless. First because Walk Hard, the greatest
Mickey Rooney's Potato Fantasy Howdy all. Planned on a big post but there's this thing I keep encountering in writing: you're out of work all the time, and when you're least prepared, you suddenly get a bunch of it, and on weird deadlines. I have two magazine pieces
a brief announcement even though newsletters shouldn't have those I'll talk about it more soon but some bullshit has happened and I won't be able to do any real posts for, I dunno, a few days, a week. But stuff is happening soon: a memoir essay, a review of the Bob Dylan/Willie Nelson show
So Long, Bob Newhart Bob Newhart is dead, and that’s all right. There’s no cause to mourn: he was an incredibly famous, wealthy man, and lived a long good life. He was almost a hundred. He had a huge house in Los Angeles. He spent almost his entire comedy career being universally
The End Result of My Herculean Big Bang Theory Spec Author’s Note: This is the first newsletter where I’m reposting a piece I wrote that’s no longer hosted on the internet. My archive is pretty solid because I always figured this would happen eventually. In the future, I’ll probably be paywalling archival stuff unless it’s
The Most Mysterious Song on the Internet The internet is bad now. We all know this and it’s not news. It’s not dead, but as a tool and a presence in culture, its glory days are firmly gone and they’re not coming back. Never mind the why because that’s out of our control
Road Food. So I did the math on this. Sat down, got out the legal pad, crunched the numbers. I have been to In-N-Out one billion times. I’ve spent so much of my life there that I have to earnestly say it’s part of my identity as a Californian. Which
On Dreams. Howdy all. I’m back. Took some time off to figure out a new contract gig I’m hoping to land. Wrote a scene as Homer Simpson but it wasn’t for The Simpsons. Maybe I’ll get to talk about it sometime. Also took a day off writing because
Perihelion & Aphelion By the skin of his teeth, my youngest brother had finally graduated high school. I was in my dad’s garage, going through all my brothers’ old homework. After some thirty years, it was time to ritually destroy most of it. Leave it all behind and render it to memory,
Big Fish (Not That One) My little brother hasn’t been sleeping. I know this because I’m staying with my folks up north in advance of his high school graduation and most nights I’ll notice light from the crack under his door at 4 a.m. and hear him noodling on his guitar.
Here Goes Nothing Howdy. I’m Kaleb Horton, a writer from Bakersfield. Not the metro part, which exists, but the dusty part at the edge of the desert where tumbleweeds roll by so often they aren’t cute and dust devils stab the horizon and people ride to corner stores on horseback. My
