The man got a good grip on my arm, planted his feet, and on the count of three, pulled with all his might. He succeeded in pulling me about halfway out the pile of debris.
As I started to take some of the debris off my legs, the man asked hopefully, “All set?”
I looked up and read his body language. Sighing, I removed a few more branches before answering. “Yeah, I’m all set. Thanks for your help and I’m sorry for troubling you.”
I looked back up again, and saw not to my surprise, that he was already a couple hundred yards away and was about to disappear into the woods. Shaking my head, I crawled out from the pile of debris and sat on the curb.
‘What else could possible go wrong?’ I said to myself as I began to brush the mud and dirt off my clothes. I soon had my answer when I tried to take my glasses off to clean them.
They were stuck to my face. The pine sap that I got drenched with had dried like super glue. My glasses, along with my wedding band and my medical alert bracelet, were securely bonded to my skin. Try as I might, I couldn’t remove my glasses without removing skin as well.
Pursing my lips, I stood up and re-started my walk towards downtown. When I attempted to check the time, I discovered one more thing that was damaged by the pine sap: my cell phone.
Putting it away for the moment, I checked to make sure that I still had the other items that were needed for my errands. A minute later, I was all set, so I picked up the pace and shifted gears.
Shifting from a charley horse to a not-quite-giving-up pace, within a few minutes I was walking past the bridge and down the side road that ran by the hospital. By the time I was on the sidewalk and walking down the steep grade, I had found my stride and once again was making excellent time.
At this point, I was itchy as all heck and I needed to find a usable water source to wash off the pine tar. Suddenly, I remember the big old hay field that sat in front of the hospital.
That big old hayfield had about five inches of snow sitting on top of it. And what is snow boys and girls? Yup, you guessed it, frozen water. So off I went, cutting down the hill that was next to the hospital.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Doo, Doo, Doo, Looking Out My Front Door
Or in this case, looking out my front window.
Spring time in New England is very special indeed. Whereas in other areas of this big ol' country the seasons tend to run into each other with no discernible break to speak of, in New England it's a bit different.
Because winter is so incredibly harsh, the changeover to spring isn't seamless. It's more like a-bad-delivery-boy-dropping-your-order-in-front-of-you-from-a-great-height-and-smashing-the-contents-within-then-standing-there-like-a-dolt-expecting-a-tip-for-his-crappy-service changeover.
So when Spring arrives in Connecticut, people go absolutely ga-ga for the warmer weather. And in my case, I'm no exception. Just to make some of you out there slightly jealous, the weather forecast today in my neck of the woods is: low 80's, sunny, breezy, with nary a cloud in sight. I plan on doing my part today by simply vegging out in the mountain and catching up on my writing.
In the meantime, here's a little taste of what I got to look forward to.
The sun is already cascading down the mountainside and peeking between the now (finally) budding tree branches, throwing out its sunbeams and making contact with the houses, lawns and the quiet street.
In my driveway I can see a few birds hopping along looking for food to eat. When I step out on the porch, I can feel the breeze tickling my head as it gently makes it way through the mountain and down the street. I can also hear other birds singing their morning wake up song. In my front yard, I just saw a bird fly by and land on the gnarly old tree that's been growing in the yard for the past 44 years of my life. When it's finally in bloom, it looks likes this:
`
Once I start off on my weekly walk to the center of town, I will be experiencing that wonderful country oasis of peaceful solitude, smack dab in the middle of the suburban wasteland.
Who knows? Maybe this weekend will be the weekend in which I get one of those disposables and create a travelogue entitled, "My Saturday Morning Walk".
In any event, please be the following: jealous of the fact that Spring is now here where I live, and horrified about the fact that I will be wearing shorts and showing off those skinny pale white legs of mine.
Spring time in New England is very special indeed. Whereas in other areas of this big ol' country the seasons tend to run into each other with no discernible break to speak of, in New England it's a bit different.
Because winter is so incredibly harsh, the changeover to spring isn't seamless. It's more like a-bad-delivery-boy-dropping-your-order-in-front-of-you-from-a-great-height-and-smashing-the-contents-within-then-standing-there-like-a-dolt-expecting-a-tip-for-his-crappy-service changeover.
So when Spring arrives in Connecticut, people go absolutely ga-ga for the warmer weather. And in my case, I'm no exception. Just to make some of you out there slightly jealous, the weather forecast today in my neck of the woods is: low 80's, sunny, breezy, with nary a cloud in sight. I plan on doing my part today by simply vegging out in the mountain and catching up on my writing.
In the meantime, here's a little taste of what I got to look forward to.
The sun is already cascading down the mountainside and peeking between the now (finally) budding tree branches, throwing out its sunbeams and making contact with the houses, lawns and the quiet street.
In my driveway I can see a few birds hopping along looking for food to eat. When I step out on the porch, I can feel the breeze tickling my head as it gently makes it way through the mountain and down the street. I can also hear other birds singing their morning wake up song. In my front yard, I just saw a bird fly by and land on the gnarly old tree that's been growing in the yard for the past 44 years of my life. When it's finally in bloom, it looks likes this:
`
Once I start off on my weekly walk to the center of town, I will be experiencing that wonderful country oasis of peaceful solitude, smack dab in the middle of the suburban wasteland.
Who knows? Maybe this weekend will be the weekend in which I get one of those disposables and create a travelogue entitled, "My Saturday Morning Walk".
In any event, please be the following: jealous of the fact that Spring is now here where I live, and horrified about the fact that I will be wearing shorts and showing off those skinny pale white legs of mine.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Book Review: "Swords of Talera" by Charles A. Gramlich
I'd first met, or I should say, saw Charles on David Cranmer's blog, The Education of a Pulp Writer, sometime during the summer of 2008. I can't quite pinpoint the month, since it was during one of my many sojourns of blog exploration (I found David's through Travis Erwin's wonderful blog One Word, One Rung, One Day) that year.
As per my usual habit, I'd spent about a week or so lurking around his blog RAZORED ZEN, trying to get a decent read on what he was all about, before venturing forth to make an actual comment. This is something I do whenever I come across a blog that peaks my curiosity. Every blog is different and the last thing I would want to do, was to make a comment that isn't in the same spirit of the blog. Sometimes it takes me a couple of weeks, sometimes it takes me a couple of months.
Anyways, I got a good enough read on Charles and his blog, to stick around and become a regular visitor to his blog.
Among the many interesting things I'd found on his blog, were links to five books that he'd written. Suffice to say, four of the five I found to my liking. Unfortunately, because of my self inflicted credit card purge, I would have an extremely difficult time in purchasing said books.
Luckily for me, in late March of this year, Charles stated that he had acquired more volumes to sell through his blog, and being the non-typical customer, I purchased the three volume set of "The Talera Cycle".
Now, I like the fantasy genre, although I haven't read anything in the genre since giving up on "The Wheels of Time" series some five years ago. Tyring to work my way through the 11 volume series wound up being an exercise in futility. Nothing worse than trying to read a series where the break is about two years per volume and having to go back to the previous volume to figure out what was going on.
That being said, today's book review will be about the first volume in the series, which is called "Swords of Talera".
1} A quick read. At 27 chapters totalling 202 pages, this book was a quick read for me. Now, I'm something of an anomaly in that I can down a book in about three days, no matter what the size. This is due to an important component.
2} It grabbed me. This book grabbed me from the get go. The intro was just long enough to set the tone for the book without turning me off. The rest of it kept my interest throughout and I basically read the book cover to cover at work, in about one week. That week (before the day and during breaks) was the equivalent of two and a half days at home. Another important component was that...
3} It didn't talk down to me. Charles did an excellent job of explaining the world without either slowing down the pace nor treating the reader like an idiot. The footnoting was very minimal and the non-footnoted remarks were kept brief and completely natural, like if you were having a casual conversation with somebody.
4} Even though the plot sounded basic enough (two brothers explore an island in which the get separated when an explosion hurls them through a portal), I did find myself really feeling for he main character Ruenn Maclang as he set off in search for his missing brother. Usually when I read a book of fiction, I don't particular care about the characters in any particular way. However, this was much different, which was probably because I can sympathize about having a sibling that I care very much about. If mine had gotten lost like that, I would probably go off in search for him in much the same way.
5} A good read. Now a quick read isn't quite the same as a good read, but it's rare when the book both. In my world, a book can be a quick read but a bad read, which means that a good chunk of the book sucks, and I'd skip about two hundred (or more depending on the size) pages to get to the last twenty pages of the book. Sometimes, if the ending is good, I'll start reading backwards to see what I'd missed. By the same token, it can be a good read, but due to either the size or time constraints, it will take me longer to read. In this particular instance, the book was both a quick and a good read.
Overall, this book was a very enjoyable read. It kept my interest, it didn't drag, it didn't insult my intelligence, and most importantly, it made me look forward to reading the next volume in the series.
As per my usual habit, I'd spent about a week or so lurking around his blog RAZORED ZEN, trying to get a decent read on what he was all about, before venturing forth to make an actual comment. This is something I do whenever I come across a blog that peaks my curiosity. Every blog is different and the last thing I would want to do, was to make a comment that isn't in the same spirit of the blog. Sometimes it takes me a couple of weeks, sometimes it takes me a couple of months.
Anyways, I got a good enough read on Charles and his blog, to stick around and become a regular visitor to his blog.
Among the many interesting things I'd found on his blog, were links to five books that he'd written. Suffice to say, four of the five I found to my liking. Unfortunately, because of my self inflicted credit card purge, I would have an extremely difficult time in purchasing said books.
Luckily for me, in late March of this year, Charles stated that he had acquired more volumes to sell through his blog, and being the non-typical customer, I purchased the three volume set of "The Talera Cycle".
Now, I like the fantasy genre, although I haven't read anything in the genre since giving up on "The Wheels of Time" series some five years ago. Tyring to work my way through the 11 volume series wound up being an exercise in futility. Nothing worse than trying to read a series where the break is about two years per volume and having to go back to the previous volume to figure out what was going on.
That being said, today's book review will be about the first volume in the series, which is called "Swords of Talera".
1} A quick read. At 27 chapters totalling 202 pages, this book was a quick read for me. Now, I'm something of an anomaly in that I can down a book in about three days, no matter what the size. This is due to an important component.
2} It grabbed me. This book grabbed me from the get go. The intro was just long enough to set the tone for the book without turning me off. The rest of it kept my interest throughout and I basically read the book cover to cover at work, in about one week. That week (before the day and during breaks) was the equivalent of two and a half days at home. Another important component was that...
3} It didn't talk down to me. Charles did an excellent job of explaining the world without either slowing down the pace nor treating the reader like an idiot. The footnoting was very minimal and the non-footnoted remarks were kept brief and completely natural, like if you were having a casual conversation with somebody.
4} Even though the plot sounded basic enough (two brothers explore an island in which the get separated when an explosion hurls them through a portal), I did find myself really feeling for he main character Ruenn Maclang as he set off in search for his missing brother. Usually when I read a book of fiction, I don't particular care about the characters in any particular way. However, this was much different, which was probably because I can sympathize about having a sibling that I care very much about. If mine had gotten lost like that, I would probably go off in search for him in much the same way.
5} A good read. Now a quick read isn't quite the same as a good read, but it's rare when the book both. In my world, a book can be a quick read but a bad read, which means that a good chunk of the book sucks, and I'd skip about two hundred (or more depending on the size) pages to get to the last twenty pages of the book. Sometimes, if the ending is good, I'll start reading backwards to see what I'd missed. By the same token, it can be a good read, but due to either the size or time constraints, it will take me longer to read. In this particular instance, the book was both a quick and a good read.
Overall, this book was a very enjoyable read. It kept my interest, it didn't drag, it didn't insult my intelligence, and most importantly, it made me look forward to reading the next volume in the series.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Restrictions? What Restrictions?
Part 9 of The Library Chronicles
~~~~~~~~~~~
First off, I want to apologize for the almost one month gap between episodes. I meant to get it done weeks earlier, but other things kept cropping up to prevent me from writing it. That said, we continue with part 10 of The Library Chronicles.
So when I showed up at the library/historical society to pick up the newspaper(s) in question, I would be given a brief list on what we (meaning the Library) could do or not do with/to the newspapers. What follows is a few typical examples of what we weren't allowed to do, and how we were able to get around that particular issue (or not get around).
Warning: Don't read this if you're in the house and there's fantastic weather outside. Go grab some down time for yourself. Go on, scoot! Good grief, there's a millions things to do outside in the fantastic weather! Like taking your laptop outside and reading my blog, for example.
1} No flattening of the newspaper with things like a press or an iron. Sometimes we would get newspapers, that due to the stupid storage conditions inflicted on it, would have a brown crease at the fold so severe that you could use it to clean your fingernails with. Which in turn would create a "shadow" on the microfilm and make the text unreadable. The way that was usually fixed was to spray water on the fold and either use an iron to flatten it or stick it in a ginormous press. When we weren't allowed to do that, we instead used to a humidifier to relax the fibers, then covered the paper with black newsprint and place weights on them (usually bricks) to flatten the paper. Sometimes it work, sometimes it didn't. When it didn't, we stuck the paper in something called Mylar.
2} Repair using only archival tape. To repair holes, tears, etc., we usually used regular scotch tape. It's effective and gets the job done. We simply slap a couple of pieces on, use a herring bone to get rid of the shine, and viola', she is done. However, when this type of restriction was put on us, we took out the archival tape (specifically Filmoplast brand) to make the needed repairs. It was slow and very meticulous work, designed to slow the process down and it forced you only to make critical repairs, as opposed to the wholesale repairs that were normally done.
3} No repairs. This restriction frequently caused us the most problems. This invariably was forced on us by the owners of newspapers that, due to incredibly bad storage techniques, needed it the most. It was weird correlation (Murphy's Law for the Library) that the more poorer the condition of the newspaper, the more restrictions that were put on us. Like fixing the poor example of the newspaper would somehow make it worse if we actually prolonged its life. The one real way around it was to the wrap the damaged newspaper in blank newsprint. There was really one time that I can recall in which we actually returned to a myopic historical society there precious newspaper (which we really did need for filming), because the restriction of not repairing their seriously deteriorating newspaper was unworkable.
4} No cutting of the newspaper. Now this wasn't much of a problem as you might think. Usually we would chop the newspaper down the middle to separate the pages. When this restriction was presented to us, we did a simple page count and boxed the newspaper accordingly.
We had other types restrictions placed on us from time to time, but for the most part, these were our four major headaches that we frequently dealt with.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Up next: The fine art of microfilming.
~~~~~~~~~~~
First off, I want to apologize for the almost one month gap between episodes. I meant to get it done weeks earlier, but other things kept cropping up to prevent me from writing it. That said, we continue with part 10 of The Library Chronicles.
So when I showed up at the library/historical society to pick up the newspaper(s) in question, I would be given a brief list on what we (meaning the Library) could do or not do with/to the newspapers. What follows is a few typical examples of what we weren't allowed to do, and how we were able to get around that particular issue (or not get around).
Warning: Don't read this if you're in the house and there's fantastic weather outside. Go grab some down time for yourself. Go on, scoot! Good grief, there's a millions things to do outside in the fantastic weather! Like taking your laptop outside and reading my blog, for example.
1} No flattening of the newspaper with things like a press or an iron. Sometimes we would get newspapers, that due to the stupid storage conditions inflicted on it, would have a brown crease at the fold so severe that you could use it to clean your fingernails with. Which in turn would create a "shadow" on the microfilm and make the text unreadable. The way that was usually fixed was to spray water on the fold and either use an iron to flatten it or stick it in a ginormous press. When we weren't allowed to do that, we instead used to a humidifier to relax the fibers, then covered the paper with black newsprint and place weights on them (usually bricks) to flatten the paper. Sometimes it work, sometimes it didn't. When it didn't, we stuck the paper in something called Mylar.
2} Repair using only archival tape. To repair holes, tears, etc., we usually used regular scotch tape. It's effective and gets the job done. We simply slap a couple of pieces on, use a herring bone to get rid of the shine, and viola', she is done. However, when this type of restriction was put on us, we took out the archival tape (specifically Filmoplast brand) to make the needed repairs. It was slow and very meticulous work, designed to slow the process down and it forced you only to make critical repairs, as opposed to the wholesale repairs that were normally done.
3} No repairs. This restriction frequently caused us the most problems. This invariably was forced on us by the owners of newspapers that, due to incredibly bad storage techniques, needed it the most. It was weird correlation (Murphy's Law for the Library) that the more poorer the condition of the newspaper, the more restrictions that were put on us. Like fixing the poor example of the newspaper would somehow make it worse if we actually prolonged its life. The one real way around it was to the wrap the damaged newspaper in blank newsprint. There was really one time that I can recall in which we actually returned to a myopic historical society there precious newspaper (which we really did need for filming), because the restriction of not repairing their seriously deteriorating newspaper was unworkable.
4} No cutting of the newspaper. Now this wasn't much of a problem as you might think. Usually we would chop the newspaper down the middle to separate the pages. When this restriction was presented to us, we did a simple page count and boxed the newspaper accordingly.
We had other types restrictions placed on us from time to time, but for the most part, these were our four major headaches that we frequently dealt with.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Up next: The fine art of microfilming.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Music Makes My World Go 'Round...IV
Time now, to take another brief tour of my CD bookcase. Let me just randomly pick out six CD's here and dust them off (blows some dust bunnies away). Cough, cough, cough. Okay, now that we got those bad boys cleaned off, it's time to give everyone a peek as to 1) why I bought these in the first place and 2) what makes this soon-to-be 44 year old tick. I apologize in advance for the apparently creepy theme of this post, as I didn't realize that three of the six CD's I'd picked out had such creepy backgrounds.
1} Seasons by Sevendust. I picked this particular CD up for the same reason I acquire 99% of my music: one particular song that I got hooked listening to on the radio. Or in this case, watching VH1Hits music channel. I caught the video for the song "Enemy" and I was really intrigued by it, which was due to the plot line of a wrestling match between one of the band members and female wrestler Joanie Laurer (aka Chyna during the WWE's Attitude era of wrestling in the late 1990's). I wound up listening to the rest of the CD, which is something I normally do when I pick one up for a song, and found a couple of other songs to my liking: "Disease", the title track "Seasons" and a nasty one called "Face to Face". This particular CD has the normal Parental Advisory warning on it and it comes with a rather lame bonus CD. It contains a couple of studio recordings, a couple of live performances and a rather long and lame prank on the tour bus driver. A pretty decent metal band in its day, so I would recommend this CD if you want a taste of what your children might be listening to if you're not around.
2} The Long Road by Nickelback. I got this in the summer of 2007, when their CD All The Right Reasons was being overkilled on the radio. I bought it, again for one particular song (Figured You Out, which I based a recent piece of flash fiction on). Interesting tidbit about that song. If you catch the video on MTV, the song is heavily edited, which I feel is a bit hypocritical, seeing how borderline NC-17 some rap videos are. A decent CD, it has an untitled bonus track of them covering Elton John's "Saturday Night".
3} Short Bus by Filter. I bought this CD to replace the cassette version. Again, I bought it for one song, "Hey Man, Nice Shot". The opening bass line and solitary drum shots are quite spooky, and the chorus line underlies the real theme of the song: I wish I would of met you, but now it's a little late. What you could of taught me, I could of saved some face. The chorus also hints at the theme of the song: A man has gun, hey man nice shot. Contrary to the prevailing opinion at the time that the song was about Kurt Cobain (who supposedly committed suicide), it was actually about someone else. According to Richard Patrick, lead singer, the song was about Pennsylvanian politician, R. Budd Dwyer, *who after being convicted of mail fraud, conspiracy and racketeering, in connection with accepting a $300K bribe as the state treasurer, held a news conference about it. With cameras rolling, playing the role of the unjustly accused, Dwyer distributed a twenty page press statement, fielded a few questions, then placed the barrel of .357 revolver in his mouth and shot himself*. The rest of the CD is much in the same vein.
4} American Standard by Seven Mary Three. From the CD jacket (picture of a farmer about to behead a chicken) to the overall content, this debut 1995 release is creepy/disturbing from the get go. Again, I bought the CD on the basis of one song "Cumbersome" (of which a bad acoustic version was released). I listened to the entire thing a couple of times last year, but never really thought about the content until very recently. If you listen closely to that song, you'll see it's about suicide/death (in my opinion that is). But the one that really creeps me out, is the opening track (which got some airplay) called "Water's Edge". The narrator is talking about a murder in which he may or may not actively participated in. The reason why it creeps me out, is that the content of the song eerily mirrors a well know murder case here in CT that was unsolved for about 10 years. It was a case that involved a thirteen year old girl, who was kidnapped by some acquaintances, brought to the river in a van, sexually assaulted, bound and gagged, before being thrown into the river. The song contains much of what I just stated (except for the sexual assault). If you want to do a comparison, I suggest picking up this CD and either googling "Maryann Measles" or check out the Hartford Courant archives using the same search term.
5} Freak Show by Silverchair. I purchased this one last year, along with the self-titled debut release at a place called "Newbury Comics". Great place for new and used music. Anyways, the CD isn't anything special other than the band was finally in their twenties when they recorded it (their debut was done when they were 15 or 16). What really stands out in my mind, is the cover shot of the "Lobster Boy". Short version: Grady Stiles was a mentally unbalanced individual who was a popular side show attraction due to a genetic defect that made his hands and feets look like claws. After brutally terrorizing his family, his wife hired a hitman to take him out.
6} American IV: The Man Comes Around by Johnny Cash. To end this post on an upbeat note, I purchased this CD about a year after I purchased the double LP. This CD rocks from beginning to end. In my opinion, this last recording that he made was his best. I do believe he won a Grammy for his cover of "Hurt". Other excellent tracks include "The Man Comes Around", "Desperado" and "I'm So Lonesome, I Could Cry." It also contains, what I feel, are the best two tracks that will ever listen to. I don't care who you are, these tracks will move you in ways that I only can describe as spiritual. He does a beautifully haunting cover of "Bridge Over Troubled Water" with Fiona Apple, and a spiritual version of "We'll Meet Again".
Again, I apologize for the apparently creepy turn that this post took (sometimes a memory is a very bad thing), and I promise that I will try to make the next installment more upbeat.
~~~~~~~~~
*That small excerpt was taken from the book, "Final Exits", which was written by Michael Largo.
1} Seasons by Sevendust. I picked this particular CD up for the same reason I acquire 99% of my music: one particular song that I got hooked listening to on the radio. Or in this case, watching VH1Hits music channel. I caught the video for the song "Enemy" and I was really intrigued by it, which was due to the plot line of a wrestling match between one of the band members and female wrestler Joanie Laurer (aka Chyna during the WWE's Attitude era of wrestling in the late 1990's). I wound up listening to the rest of the CD, which is something I normally do when I pick one up for a song, and found a couple of other songs to my liking: "Disease", the title track "Seasons" and a nasty one called "Face to Face". This particular CD has the normal Parental Advisory warning on it and it comes with a rather lame bonus CD. It contains a couple of studio recordings, a couple of live performances and a rather long and lame prank on the tour bus driver. A pretty decent metal band in its day, so I would recommend this CD if you want a taste of what your children might be listening to if you're not around.
2} The Long Road by Nickelback. I got this in the summer of 2007, when their CD All The Right Reasons was being overkilled on the radio. I bought it, again for one particular song (Figured You Out, which I based a recent piece of flash fiction on). Interesting tidbit about that song. If you catch the video on MTV, the song is heavily edited, which I feel is a bit hypocritical, seeing how borderline NC-17 some rap videos are. A decent CD, it has an untitled bonus track of them covering Elton John's "Saturday Night".
3} Short Bus by Filter. I bought this CD to replace the cassette version. Again, I bought it for one song, "Hey Man, Nice Shot". The opening bass line and solitary drum shots are quite spooky, and the chorus line underlies the real theme of the song: I wish I would of met you, but now it's a little late. What you could of taught me, I could of saved some face. The chorus also hints at the theme of the song: A man has gun, hey man nice shot. Contrary to the prevailing opinion at the time that the song was about Kurt Cobain (who supposedly committed suicide), it was actually about someone else. According to Richard Patrick, lead singer, the song was about Pennsylvanian politician, R. Budd Dwyer, *who after being convicted of mail fraud, conspiracy and racketeering, in connection with accepting a $300K bribe as the state treasurer, held a news conference about it. With cameras rolling, playing the role of the unjustly accused, Dwyer distributed a twenty page press statement, fielded a few questions, then placed the barrel of .357 revolver in his mouth and shot himself*. The rest of the CD is much in the same vein.
4} American Standard by Seven Mary Three. From the CD jacket (picture of a farmer about to behead a chicken) to the overall content, this debut 1995 release is creepy/disturbing from the get go. Again, I bought the CD on the basis of one song "Cumbersome" (of which a bad acoustic version was released). I listened to the entire thing a couple of times last year, but never really thought about the content until very recently. If you listen closely to that song, you'll see it's about suicide/death (in my opinion that is). But the one that really creeps me out, is the opening track (which got some airplay) called "Water's Edge". The narrator is talking about a murder in which he may or may not actively participated in. The reason why it creeps me out, is that the content of the song eerily mirrors a well know murder case here in CT that was unsolved for about 10 years. It was a case that involved a thirteen year old girl, who was kidnapped by some acquaintances, brought to the river in a van, sexually assaulted, bound and gagged, before being thrown into the river. The song contains much of what I just stated (except for the sexual assault). If you want to do a comparison, I suggest picking up this CD and either googling "Maryann Measles" or check out the Hartford Courant archives using the same search term.
5} Freak Show by Silverchair. I purchased this one last year, along with the self-titled debut release at a place called "Newbury Comics". Great place for new and used music. Anyways, the CD isn't anything special other than the band was finally in their twenties when they recorded it (their debut was done when they were 15 or 16). What really stands out in my mind, is the cover shot of the "Lobster Boy". Short version: Grady Stiles was a mentally unbalanced individual who was a popular side show attraction due to a genetic defect that made his hands and feets look like claws. After brutally terrorizing his family, his wife hired a hitman to take him out.
6} American IV: The Man Comes Around by Johnny Cash. To end this post on an upbeat note, I purchased this CD about a year after I purchased the double LP. This CD rocks from beginning to end. In my opinion, this last recording that he made was his best. I do believe he won a Grammy for his cover of "Hurt". Other excellent tracks include "The Man Comes Around", "Desperado" and "I'm So Lonesome, I Could Cry." It also contains, what I feel, are the best two tracks that will ever listen to. I don't care who you are, these tracks will move you in ways that I only can describe as spiritual. He does a beautifully haunting cover of "Bridge Over Troubled Water" with Fiona Apple, and a spiritual version of "We'll Meet Again".
Again, I apologize for the apparently creepy turn that this post took (sometimes a memory is a very bad thing), and I promise that I will try to make the next installment more upbeat.
~~~~~~~~~
*That small excerpt was taken from the book, "Final Exits", which was written by Michael Largo.
"Saturday" (pg 6)
Instead, I landed on his back. I quickly grabbed his neck and made an attempt to bulldog him. He came to a stop when I'd suddenly popped up in his line of vision. Sitting down where he stopped, he took hold of my arms and easily pulled my grip apart.
He then picked me up in a fireman's carry and brought me over to the side of the mountain. He searched for a minute until he found a particular spot, then dropped me on my ass. Waving his finger as a warning, he then whistled three short blasts, followed by one long blast.
Within a few seconds I heard a distinct rumbling from the mountainside. Softly at first, it soon grew into a mind-numbing-drown-out-the-sound-of-your-own-voice rumble that was designed to put the fear of God into you.
Next thing I see is the bear waving goodbye to me. Then I hear a mighty roar. Then blackness.
When I came to, I once again found myself completely buried. Not just in branches and twigs, but with rocks, dirt, mud, grass, leaves, and pine sap as well. Groggy, I managed to free my right hand and stuck it out from the pile.
I felt someone pat my hand a couple of times before they said through the small opening, "Don't you worry none, somebody will be along shortly to help dig you out. Having a sparkling day and remember, it's not nice to fuck with Father Nature's extended family."
I thought to myself, Gee thanks for the reassuring hand pat, I'm sure it was the very most you could do for me.
Imagine my surprise when the unseen voice said in a tone dripping with contempt, "You betcha."
Sure enough, about fifteen minutes later, someone happened upon a huge pile of mountain debris. Imagine his surprise when the pile started to move in his direction and imagine the look on his face when he saw an arm waving at him from under all the debris.
"Holy smokes!" said the man as he started to back away from the pile of debris. I raised my hand and gave the universal gesture for 'stop'. Then I quickly turned my hand and waved him over before pointing down.
He knelt down to where my arm was sticking out and peered in. Peering back was a face covered in pine sap. He sat back for a moment, scratched his head, then peered back in to make sure he wasn't seeing things.
I cleared my throat and in my brightest possible voice, I asked, "Could you give me a hand in getting out? Just giving my arm a good yank should do the trick."
"Well..." said the man, who really didn't want to get this involved in helping me.
"It'll only take a minute of your time, and then you'll be able to go on your merry way, I promise."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
~~~~~~~~~
(c)2009 GBMJr. All rights reserved.
He then picked me up in a fireman's carry and brought me over to the side of the mountain. He searched for a minute until he found a particular spot, then dropped me on my ass. Waving his finger as a warning, he then whistled three short blasts, followed by one long blast.
Within a few seconds I heard a distinct rumbling from the mountainside. Softly at first, it soon grew into a mind-numbing-drown-out-the-sound-of-your-own-voice rumble that was designed to put the fear of God into you.
Next thing I see is the bear waving goodbye to me. Then I hear a mighty roar. Then blackness.
When I came to, I once again found myself completely buried. Not just in branches and twigs, but with rocks, dirt, mud, grass, leaves, and pine sap as well. Groggy, I managed to free my right hand and stuck it out from the pile.
I felt someone pat my hand a couple of times before they said through the small opening, "Don't you worry none, somebody will be along shortly to help dig you out. Having a sparkling day and remember, it's not nice to fuck with Father Nature's extended family."
I thought to myself, Gee thanks for the reassuring hand pat, I'm sure it was the very most you could do for me.
Imagine my surprise when the unseen voice said in a tone dripping with contempt, "You betcha."
Sure enough, about fifteen minutes later, someone happened upon a huge pile of mountain debris. Imagine his surprise when the pile started to move in his direction and imagine the look on his face when he saw an arm waving at him from under all the debris.
"Holy smokes!" said the man as he started to back away from the pile of debris. I raised my hand and gave the universal gesture for 'stop'. Then I quickly turned my hand and waved him over before pointing down.
He knelt down to where my arm was sticking out and peered in. Peering back was a face covered in pine sap. He sat back for a moment, scratched his head, then peered back in to make sure he wasn't seeing things.
I cleared my throat and in my brightest possible voice, I asked, "Could you give me a hand in getting out? Just giving my arm a good yank should do the trick."
"Well..." said the man, who really didn't want to get this involved in helping me.
"It'll only take a minute of your time, and then you'll be able to go on your merry way, I promise."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
~~~~~~~~~
(c)2009 GBMJr. All rights reserved.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
A Non-Book Review: "Un-Shelter" by Page Hill Starzinger
The other day a package was waiting for me when I got home for work. One thing that struck me peculiar about this package was that both the "Return" address and the "To" address was one and the same. The second thing that was peculiar about this package was that the envelope writing was in my scribble.
So I sat there for about five minutes trying to figure out why I would send myself a package, when it dawned on my that maybe I should open it up and see what it was. The was, was this poetry chapbook. The who from, was Noemi Press.
A couple of minutes later, I remember the who. Back in March of 2008, I entered a contest sponsored by Noemi Press and submitted one of my short stories to them (A Betrayal of Vows, I believe). This was the writer who won the contest.
FYI: I found this website last year called NewPages, that has links and listings to indie bookstores, publishers, record labels, literary journals, etc. It's a nifty website to explore and I highly recommend it if you're looking for stuff that is seriously off the beaten path.
Note: I'm not a big fan of poetry, and while I was submitted stuff for potential publication from the beginning of '06 to early '08, I found that most (if not all) literary journals and about 75% of small publishers lean slavishly towards poetry. I am not insulting poets or poetry, but it seems to me that a lot of other genres (like the short story or the essay) are getting the shaft by the abnormal focus by publishers on poetry.
Here now are my observations on this poetry chapbook entitled "Un-Shelter".
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
1} The publisher is a very small not-for-profit literary organization located in Las Cruces NM, and is called a 501(c)(3). If I remember correctly, they publish less then six titles per year.
2} About half the poems were previously published in journals such as Colorado Review, The Laurel Review, and Volt just to name a few. I haven't heard of any of these save the Colorado Review, but I would fathom a guess that they're high-end literary journals.
3} The poems themselves are written in a variety of styles, topics and pentameters. While the style and pentameters wouldn't necessarily turn me off (I did enjoy a poem written by someone else that was done as anagram), certain topics would. To me, topics like murder of prostitutes simply doesn't work as a poem (Riptide is one such poem in this chapbook) no matter how you write it.
4} Topical poetry is another turn off for me. This chapbook seems to contain a lot of topical poetry, some of which would really work much better in the essay form as opposed to the poetry form.
This is pretty much my non-book review of this chapbook. While there is poetry out there that would definitely appeal to me, this doesn't. If topical poetry does for you (poetry slams are another big turn off for me and this chapbook reminds me of the poetry slams that are held every year in CT), then this chapbook is for you. I believe the cost is under $7.
Tune in next time, when I give my personal take on Swords of Talera by Charles A. Gramlich.
So I sat there for about five minutes trying to figure out why I would send myself a package, when it dawned on my that maybe I should open it up and see what it was. The was, was this poetry chapbook. The who from, was Noemi Press.
A couple of minutes later, I remember the who. Back in March of 2008, I entered a contest sponsored by Noemi Press and submitted one of my short stories to them (A Betrayal of Vows, I believe). This was the writer who won the contest.
FYI: I found this website last year called NewPages, that has links and listings to indie bookstores, publishers, record labels, literary journals, etc. It's a nifty website to explore and I highly recommend it if you're looking for stuff that is seriously off the beaten path.
Note: I'm not a big fan of poetry, and while I was submitted stuff for potential publication from the beginning of '06 to early '08, I found that most (if not all) literary journals and about 75% of small publishers lean slavishly towards poetry. I am not insulting poets or poetry, but it seems to me that a lot of other genres (like the short story or the essay) are getting the shaft by the abnormal focus by publishers on poetry.
Here now are my observations on this poetry chapbook entitled "Un-Shelter".
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
1} The publisher is a very small not-for-profit literary organization located in Las Cruces NM, and is called a 501(c)(3). If I remember correctly, they publish less then six titles per year.
2} About half the poems were previously published in journals such as Colorado Review, The Laurel Review, and Volt just to name a few. I haven't heard of any of these save the Colorado Review, but I would fathom a guess that they're high-end literary journals.
3} The poems themselves are written in a variety of styles, topics and pentameters. While the style and pentameters wouldn't necessarily turn me off (I did enjoy a poem written by someone else that was done as anagram), certain topics would. To me, topics like murder of prostitutes simply doesn't work as a poem (Riptide is one such poem in this chapbook) no matter how you write it.
4} Topical poetry is another turn off for me. This chapbook seems to contain a lot of topical poetry, some of which would really work much better in the essay form as opposed to the poetry form.
This is pretty much my non-book review of this chapbook. While there is poetry out there that would definitely appeal to me, this doesn't. If topical poetry does for you (poetry slams are another big turn off for me and this chapbook reminds me of the poetry slams that are held every year in CT), then this chapbook is for you. I believe the cost is under $7.
Tune in next time, when I give my personal take on Swords of Talera by Charles A. Gramlich.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
"Life Is A Highway" (pt 7)
As I mentioned in the close of my last post about my W.i.P., I was going to gut my short story Golden Texas Tea and rewrite it as a ghost story, in the first and third POV.
Well, things went along swimmingly as the words simply came pouring out of me and onto the computer. I had gotten about 16 pages written but once again, I started hitting a dead spot in my writing. I was at the point where Alex (formerly Azalea) was fretting about telling the children that she was going on a trip, when I got stuck on how to get over this particular point.
No matter what I tried, it didn't come out right. While I was trying to work that problem out (two very unsuccessful days as it turned out), I started thinking about the secondary plot, namely the two angels and the area known as Limbo. The more I thought about it, the more I didn't like it. A week ago (April 6th), I decided to gut the secondary story and start it from scratch.
I do want to show you what I originally wrote for the prologue of this story. Instead of keeping what you're about to read, I decided to make Limbo a government agency housed in an office building and have the lead character arrive by bus. I still plan on using both the first and third POV with the story, but I'm still undecided about having children in the story.
Here now for your reading pleasure (four pages worth) is version one of the prologue for A Lascivious Limbo.
~~~~~~~~~~
“I swear Tom, you are the strangest golfer I’ve ever come across up here. How come you don’t play like everyone else does?
“Well Hank, I’ve always enjoyed a challenge, and playing golf like a real person is the most challenging fun that an angel can have.”
“I suppose your right. Still, doesn’t it bother you that no one else besides me, wants to play golf with you?”
“Not really. As you know, I’ve always marched to a different beat up here. I guess that’s why they didn’t put me with the others. Is it my turn to tee off, or is it yours?”
“Mine I think. Say how long before you get your next assignment?”
“I’m not sure. All I know is that they told me I should be at the ready today. Whoever it is, they must have been something special down there, because they only call on me…” Tom didn’t get a chance to finish his thought as his beeper started going off and literally jumped out his pocket.
When he bent down to retrieve it, it continued jumping down the golf course. After each leap, it left behind a small two inch by two inch blackened spot. Hank had come over to see what was going on and saw the blackened trail that the beeper had left.
Shaking his head, he said, “I think this one is gonna be a handful for you Tom. I haven’t seen one of the beepers do that,” and he pulled out a telescope to watch the beeper go down the Slide, “since I got here about two hundred years ago.”
“You may be right Hank, you may be right. Did the beeper go down what I thought I saw it go down?”
“Yup.”
“Oh dear.”
Just then, his cell phone rang. Checking out the text message, he said, “Hank, you better stick around.”
“Are you sure? It’s not like you to ask for help.”
“It wasn’t my idea, believe me. Boss Man says for you to tag along. What Boss Man wants, Boss Man gets.”
Hank was genuinely puzzled by the fact that Boss Man wanted him to stick around. After all, Tom is the best at what he does. Why would he want me to help Tom? A voice quickly interrupted his thought. “Yours is not to question why. Yours is to simply do first, then when the time is right, you can question why.”
“Yes sir!” said Hank, who finally experienced what only other doubting Thomas’s had.
“You questioned Boss Man before you were allowed to, didn’t you?” said Tom, who had been there and done that for the past three hundred years.
Sheepishly, Hank just nodded. Tom noticed the look of sadness on Hank’s face, and said, “Could you please cut him some slack? He’s just a newbie and didn’t know any better. Thanks.”
Not waiting for an answer, Tom went back to reading the text message. When he finished, he turned off the phone and sat down on a nearby bench. Crossing his arms, he then assumed the position and waited.
Hank was about to ask what was going on, but Tom’s voice boomed into his head. “Stand behind me and be very quiet please.”
“Not so loud, please. My hearing is just fine.”
“Sorry.”
“Thanks.”
Hank moved over to where Tom was sitting and took up a position just to the right of Tom, crossed his hands and waited. While waiting, he briefly tilted his head at Tom and asked, “Any idea on what we’re waiting for, or at the very least, how I should act?”
“This person is a special case, and needs to be handled with kid gloves. So just work off of what I say and do. Okay?”
“I think I can do that. I’m sure I picked up a pointer or two from you throughout our time together.”
“That’s the spirit.”
Tom grew silent as he waited for whatever it was that was going to be dropping off the latest visitor to the Land of the Misplaced.
"Ouch!” said Tom, as an unseen hand slapped him on top of his bald head.
Hank held his laughter in. Many a time he was on the receiving end of Boss Man’s lack of humor, and it was refreshing to see someone else get it for a change.
Tom was about to respond to Hank’s laughter, when a loud horn broke through the quiet afternoon and interrupted his response. Quickly following the piercing sound of the horn was the belching of a nineteen fifties style jalopy.
It approached Tom and Hank in a slow, stuttering crawl. Black smoke poured out of the exhaust and Hank could see sitting in the grungy interior, a very good looking, yet completely shell shocked woman.
Tom waited until the cab came to a stop in front of him, before getting up to talk to the driver. Before taking one step forward, the car exploded in a cacophony of sound. The car backfired a couple of times, smoke poured out from under the hood, and all four doors blew off the hinges.
Tom approached the driver’s side and knocked on the window. The driver rolled the window down, and Tom was surprised to see his former partner sitting behind the wheel, driving the Jalopy from Hell.
“Jackie? What are you doing here?”
“Thomas. Always good to see you.” Jackie took out a folder and handed it to Tom. “I’m making a rerouted special delivery.”
Tom briefly flipped through the folder, before asking, “Rerouted special delivery?”
"Yes. A deal was worked out between our respective Boss Mans.”
Tom waved Hank over and said, “Help the young lady out of the car and have her take a seat on the bench. Be careful with her, as she is a prized commodity.”
While Hank helped the young lady out of the car and to the bench, Tom asked Jackie if there were anybody in particular he needed in his jalopy.
Jackie thought for a moment and said, “Not yet. Besides, like I said, this was worked out by other parties. When the time comes, I’ll be back to collect what needs to be collected. Take care of that young lady. She is a very special one indeed.”
Jackie did a slow u-turn and disappeared down the same hole that Tom’s beeper did. Tom briefly wondered about what Jackie would be collecting, but decided that since Boss Man worked out the details, it really wasn’t his place to question the why, only to execute the do. And the do was a shell shocked thirty-something sitting on the bench.
Tom spent the next five minutes reading the young lady’s file. When he’d finished, he waved Hank over. Hank left a couple of reformed imps in charge and walked over to where Tom was.
Tom spoke first. “Okay, here’s the deal. Apparently there was a major malfunction on earth. It wasn’t her turn to go now, it was her husband’s. Her husband was supposed to take the plunge into the Sulfur Springs, not her.”
“Wow,” said Hank, who never experienced the one thing that guaranteed terminated employment.
“Wow indeed,” said Tom, who glanced over at the young lady to make sure she was still in that current state vapor lock. “In any event, since she’s here and he’s not, we have to use her to get him there.”
“There? As in…?” Hank let the sentence hang, because to complete it would be sacrilege.
“Yes. And to answer your other questions, I have full carte blanche to do whatever it takes to rectify this situation. So the first order of business will be that if we need to communicate, we use telepathy. Agreed?”
“Agreed.” said Hank warily.
“So, let’s take a look at what we got to work with, shall we?”
Tom and Hank walked over to where their charge was sitting at, and shoed away the imps that were babysitting her. Tom saw that a small ember on top of her head was about to reignite, so he licked his fingers and put it out.
Puzzled, he knelt down to get a closer look. After studying her for a few minutes, he asked Hank if she was already like this when she arrived, or was this the end result of the brief stop down below.
“Already like this. Got barbecued after a drunk driver made a connection.”
“I see. Well then, let’s see what brought Ms…”
“Mrs. Alex Carter.”
“Mrs. Alex Carter to us in the first place. I think it’ll be quite a while before she’ll be able to tell us herself, so one of us will have to tell the story until she gets up to speed. Do you want to do it, or shall I?”
Hank thought about it for a moment. He hadn’t probed anyone’s memory yet and it was the one thing that was preventing him from moving up to the next level. The added bonus would be jumping into the story and telling it until the young lady was back on her feet.
“I’ll do it. I need the experience in order to move up. Would be so kind as to let her know, so that she doesn’t freak out while it’s happening?”
“No probs.”
While Hank got ready to probe Alex’s short/long term memory, Tom knelt down in front her and began to talk to her in a very soothing tone.
“Alex? Alex? I know right now you’re in a state of shock and body paralysis, so all you need to do for now is listen. My name is Tom. The hands that you’re about to feel on your head belong to my partner Hank. Both of us are from Internal Affairs and we’re assigned to investigate why you’re here to begin with.”
Alex tried to speak, but Tom put a finger to her lips to quiet her.
“All of your questions will be answered in due time. For now, I need you to relax and let my partner do all the work. You’re going to be hit with a major case of nausea in a few moments, but that will pass once you get used to the tingling sensation. You’ll also experience later on a feeling of déjà vu, as once you get back on your feet, you’ll be going through, and narrating the entire incident that brought you to us in the first place.”
Alex eyes went wide from fright, as the memory of the car hitting her suddenly came roaring back. Tom saw the look of absolute terror on her face and yelled at Hank for messing up.
“Be careful of what strings you pull. You have to pull them in order. Didn’t anyone tell you that?”
“Sorry, I’ve only done this as a computer stimulation. I’ll fix it right now.”
Tom turned his attention back Alex, who was about pass out. He got hold of her face and forced her eyes open. Staring into them, he was able to reassure her that everything would be alright. He then looked at Hank, who gave him a thumb’s up. Smiling, he said to Alex, “Okay, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride, so hang on tight.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(c)2009 by GBMJr. All rights reserved.
Well, things went along swimmingly as the words simply came pouring out of me and onto the computer. I had gotten about 16 pages written but once again, I started hitting a dead spot in my writing. I was at the point where Alex (formerly Azalea) was fretting about telling the children that she was going on a trip, when I got stuck on how to get over this particular point.
No matter what I tried, it didn't come out right. While I was trying to work that problem out (two very unsuccessful days as it turned out), I started thinking about the secondary plot, namely the two angels and the area known as Limbo. The more I thought about it, the more I didn't like it. A week ago (April 6th), I decided to gut the secondary story and start it from scratch.
I do want to show you what I originally wrote for the prologue of this story. Instead of keeping what you're about to read, I decided to make Limbo a government agency housed in an office building and have the lead character arrive by bus. I still plan on using both the first and third POV with the story, but I'm still undecided about having children in the story.
Here now for your reading pleasure (four pages worth) is version one of the prologue for A Lascivious Limbo.
~~~~~~~~~~
“I swear Tom, you are the strangest golfer I’ve ever come across up here. How come you don’t play like everyone else does?
“Well Hank, I’ve always enjoyed a challenge, and playing golf like a real person is the most challenging fun that an angel can have.”
“I suppose your right. Still, doesn’t it bother you that no one else besides me, wants to play golf with you?”
“Not really. As you know, I’ve always marched to a different beat up here. I guess that’s why they didn’t put me with the others. Is it my turn to tee off, or is it yours?”
“Mine I think. Say how long before you get your next assignment?”
“I’m not sure. All I know is that they told me I should be at the ready today. Whoever it is, they must have been something special down there, because they only call on me…” Tom didn’t get a chance to finish his thought as his beeper started going off and literally jumped out his pocket.
When he bent down to retrieve it, it continued jumping down the golf course. After each leap, it left behind a small two inch by two inch blackened spot. Hank had come over to see what was going on and saw the blackened trail that the beeper had left.
Shaking his head, he said, “I think this one is gonna be a handful for you Tom. I haven’t seen one of the beepers do that,” and he pulled out a telescope to watch the beeper go down the Slide, “since I got here about two hundred years ago.”
“You may be right Hank, you may be right. Did the beeper go down what I thought I saw it go down?”
“Yup.”
“Oh dear.”
Just then, his cell phone rang. Checking out the text message, he said, “Hank, you better stick around.”
“Are you sure? It’s not like you to ask for help.”
“It wasn’t my idea, believe me. Boss Man says for you to tag along. What Boss Man wants, Boss Man gets.”
Hank was genuinely puzzled by the fact that Boss Man wanted him to stick around. After all, Tom is the best at what he does. Why would he want me to help Tom? A voice quickly interrupted his thought. “Yours is not to question why. Yours is to simply do first, then when the time is right, you can question why.”
“Yes sir!” said Hank, who finally experienced what only other doubting Thomas’s had.
“You questioned Boss Man before you were allowed to, didn’t you?” said Tom, who had been there and done that for the past three hundred years.
Sheepishly, Hank just nodded. Tom noticed the look of sadness on Hank’s face, and said, “Could you please cut him some slack? He’s just a newbie and didn’t know any better. Thanks.”
Not waiting for an answer, Tom went back to reading the text message. When he finished, he turned off the phone and sat down on a nearby bench. Crossing his arms, he then assumed the position and waited.
Hank was about to ask what was going on, but Tom’s voice boomed into his head. “Stand behind me and be very quiet please.”
“Not so loud, please. My hearing is just fine.”
“Sorry.”
“Thanks.”
Hank moved over to where Tom was sitting and took up a position just to the right of Tom, crossed his hands and waited. While waiting, he briefly tilted his head at Tom and asked, “Any idea on what we’re waiting for, or at the very least, how I should act?”
“This person is a special case, and needs to be handled with kid gloves. So just work off of what I say and do. Okay?”
“I think I can do that. I’m sure I picked up a pointer or two from you throughout our time together.”
“That’s the spirit.”
Tom grew silent as he waited for whatever it was that was going to be dropping off the latest visitor to the Land of the Misplaced.
"Ouch!” said Tom, as an unseen hand slapped him on top of his bald head.
Hank held his laughter in. Many a time he was on the receiving end of Boss Man’s lack of humor, and it was refreshing to see someone else get it for a change.
Tom was about to respond to Hank’s laughter, when a loud horn broke through the quiet afternoon and interrupted his response. Quickly following the piercing sound of the horn was the belching of a nineteen fifties style jalopy.
It approached Tom and Hank in a slow, stuttering crawl. Black smoke poured out of the exhaust and Hank could see sitting in the grungy interior, a very good looking, yet completely shell shocked woman.
Tom waited until the cab came to a stop in front of him, before getting up to talk to the driver. Before taking one step forward, the car exploded in a cacophony of sound. The car backfired a couple of times, smoke poured out from under the hood, and all four doors blew off the hinges.
Tom approached the driver’s side and knocked on the window. The driver rolled the window down, and Tom was surprised to see his former partner sitting behind the wheel, driving the Jalopy from Hell.
“Jackie? What are you doing here?”
“Thomas. Always good to see you.” Jackie took out a folder and handed it to Tom. “I’m making a rerouted special delivery.”
Tom briefly flipped through the folder, before asking, “Rerouted special delivery?”
"Yes. A deal was worked out between our respective Boss Mans.”
Tom waved Hank over and said, “Help the young lady out of the car and have her take a seat on the bench. Be careful with her, as she is a prized commodity.”
While Hank helped the young lady out of the car and to the bench, Tom asked Jackie if there were anybody in particular he needed in his jalopy.
Jackie thought for a moment and said, “Not yet. Besides, like I said, this was worked out by other parties. When the time comes, I’ll be back to collect what needs to be collected. Take care of that young lady. She is a very special one indeed.”
Jackie did a slow u-turn and disappeared down the same hole that Tom’s beeper did. Tom briefly wondered about what Jackie would be collecting, but decided that since Boss Man worked out the details, it really wasn’t his place to question the why, only to execute the do. And the do was a shell shocked thirty-something sitting on the bench.
Tom spent the next five minutes reading the young lady’s file. When he’d finished, he waved Hank over. Hank left a couple of reformed imps in charge and walked over to where Tom was.
Tom spoke first. “Okay, here’s the deal. Apparently there was a major malfunction on earth. It wasn’t her turn to go now, it was her husband’s. Her husband was supposed to take the plunge into the Sulfur Springs, not her.”
“Wow,” said Hank, who never experienced the one thing that guaranteed terminated employment.
“Wow indeed,” said Tom, who glanced over at the young lady to make sure she was still in that current state vapor lock. “In any event, since she’s here and he’s not, we have to use her to get him there.”
“There? As in…?” Hank let the sentence hang, because to complete it would be sacrilege.
“Yes. And to answer your other questions, I have full carte blanche to do whatever it takes to rectify this situation. So the first order of business will be that if we need to communicate, we use telepathy. Agreed?”
“Agreed.” said Hank warily.
“So, let’s take a look at what we got to work with, shall we?”
Tom and Hank walked over to where their charge was sitting at, and shoed away the imps that were babysitting her. Tom saw that a small ember on top of her head was about to reignite, so he licked his fingers and put it out.
Puzzled, he knelt down to get a closer look. After studying her for a few minutes, he asked Hank if she was already like this when she arrived, or was this the end result of the brief stop down below.
“Already like this. Got barbecued after a drunk driver made a connection.”
“I see. Well then, let’s see what brought Ms…”
“Mrs. Alex Carter.”
“Mrs. Alex Carter to us in the first place. I think it’ll be quite a while before she’ll be able to tell us herself, so one of us will have to tell the story until she gets up to speed. Do you want to do it, or shall I?”
Hank thought about it for a moment. He hadn’t probed anyone’s memory yet and it was the one thing that was preventing him from moving up to the next level. The added bonus would be jumping into the story and telling it until the young lady was back on her feet.
“I’ll do it. I need the experience in order to move up. Would be so kind as to let her know, so that she doesn’t freak out while it’s happening?”
“No probs.”
While Hank got ready to probe Alex’s short/long term memory, Tom knelt down in front her and began to talk to her in a very soothing tone.
“Alex? Alex? I know right now you’re in a state of shock and body paralysis, so all you need to do for now is listen. My name is Tom. The hands that you’re about to feel on your head belong to my partner Hank. Both of us are from Internal Affairs and we’re assigned to investigate why you’re here to begin with.”
Alex tried to speak, but Tom put a finger to her lips to quiet her.
“All of your questions will be answered in due time. For now, I need you to relax and let my partner do all the work. You’re going to be hit with a major case of nausea in a few moments, but that will pass once you get used to the tingling sensation. You’ll also experience later on a feeling of déjà vu, as once you get back on your feet, you’ll be going through, and narrating the entire incident that brought you to us in the first place.”
Alex eyes went wide from fright, as the memory of the car hitting her suddenly came roaring back. Tom saw the look of absolute terror on her face and yelled at Hank for messing up.
“Be careful of what strings you pull. You have to pull them in order. Didn’t anyone tell you that?”
“Sorry, I’ve only done this as a computer stimulation. I’ll fix it right now.”
Tom turned his attention back Alex, who was about pass out. He got hold of her face and forced her eyes open. Staring into them, he was able to reassure her that everything would be alright. He then looked at Hank, who gave him a thumb’s up. Smiling, he said to Alex, “Okay, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride, so hang on tight.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(c)2009 by GBMJr. All rights reserved.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
I Can Conversate With You
This past month, I experienced what I can only call, a piece of normal. Normal as in, something that you do/have in the course of a typical day. In this particular instance (actually two), I had two distinct conversations with two very distinctive fellow bloggers.
Now before you get your panties in a bunch about me trumpeting the fact that I experienced something that occurs in every single day of my existence, let me tell you up front that while I have this about two or three times a day in the real world (and I'm not talking about brief chit-chat between co-workers, or while you're standing in a line waiting, and things like that), I haven't had this in my online world (read: chat rooms) in quite some time and almost never in my blog world. Isn't that just the spiffiest run-on sentence that you've ever read?
In the chat rooms, it's darn near impossible to be able to carry on a conversation with someone without twenty or more idiots butting in and crapping on your parade (one of many reasons why I've toned done my chat room attendance in the past month). As for the blog world, for the most part, you comment on a blog post, and you get a response to your comment and then you continue on your merry way.
That's why it was so refreshing to have a conversation with a fellow blogger for the first time since last summer, when I had a truly silly one with my friend Sy. The first one that I had was with a fellow blogger and all around good egg, Jannie Funster.
That one started innocently enough, in a post whose title escapes me, about visiting different cities. But over the course of three days or so, we managed to have a rather normal conversation about visiting a city versus visiting the outskirts of a particular city. It was very refreshing to simply be able to have a intelligent online conversation with someone, as opposed to having a hit and run insultfest that most of my chat room encounters were.
The second one dealt with music. Earlier in the month, I made a post about what c.d.'s I had in my bookcase, and another fellow blogger and all around good egg, Lynn made a nice post in reference to it. As with the previous blog, I was able to have a very good conversation with Lynn (and Jannie who happened to drop by) about the types of music we both listened to.
Both of the conversations with most refreshing and in the end, I managed to learn a little bit more about my fellow bloggers.
It really was a pleasant experience for me. To be able to actually partake in two very big helpings of normalcy that I found in all places, a blog, in this vast wasteland called the Internet, was something that really made those particular days shine.
Now before you get your panties in a bunch about me trumpeting the fact that I experienced something that occurs in every single day of my existence, let me tell you up front that while I have this about two or three times a day in the real world (and I'm not talking about brief chit-chat between co-workers, or while you're standing in a line waiting, and things like that), I haven't had this in my online world (read: chat rooms) in quite some time and almost never in my blog world. Isn't that just the spiffiest run-on sentence that you've ever read?
In the chat rooms, it's darn near impossible to be able to carry on a conversation with someone without twenty or more idiots butting in and crapping on your parade (one of many reasons why I've toned done my chat room attendance in the past month). As for the blog world, for the most part, you comment on a blog post, and you get a response to your comment and then you continue on your merry way.
That's why it was so refreshing to have a conversation with a fellow blogger for the first time since last summer, when I had a truly silly one with my friend Sy. The first one that I had was with a fellow blogger and all around good egg, Jannie Funster.
That one started innocently enough, in a post whose title escapes me, about visiting different cities. But over the course of three days or so, we managed to have a rather normal conversation about visiting a city versus visiting the outskirts of a particular city. It was very refreshing to simply be able to have a intelligent online conversation with someone, as opposed to having a hit and run insultfest that most of my chat room encounters were.
The second one dealt with music. Earlier in the month, I made a post about what c.d.'s I had in my bookcase, and another fellow blogger and all around good egg, Lynn made a nice post in reference to it. As with the previous blog, I was able to have a very good conversation with Lynn (and Jannie who happened to drop by) about the types of music we both listened to.
Both of the conversations with most refreshing and in the end, I managed to learn a little bit more about my fellow bloggers.
It really was a pleasant experience for me. To be able to actually partake in two very big helpings of normalcy that I found in all places, a blog, in this vast wasteland called the Internet, was something that really made those particular days shine.
"Saturday" (pg 5)
Picking bits of tar from my face, I answered, "Just now? Or earlier?"
"What do you mean, just now?" said the bear, who didn't know about earlier.
Seeing that the bear had moved in a few inches after he'd asked his question, I quickly decided that lying was not a viable option. Carefully switching positions so that if I needed to get I could, I said brightly, "I had a fight about forty-five minutes ago with some bushes and a tree."
"Bushes and a tree."
"Yes."
"Nothing else?" At this point the bear shifted positions and moved in closer.
Worried, I moved back so as to get a better jump, just in case. Clearing my throat, I continued in the same bright tone. "From earlier?"
"Yes," he said forcefully.
"Well...I trudged through the bushes and trees, dodging the rocks that were being thrown, before coming out the other end."
"So why were you covered with branches and twigs a little while ago?"
"Jealousy."
"Excuse me?" He now stood up and started walking around me in a circle.
I stood up as well, since I didn't want to take whatever it was he wanted to deliver lying down. As a matter of fact, I started to walk slowly towards the bridge, where I knew that a small dart gun was stored in a buried locker.
He noticed this and said in a hostile tone, "Come back here you. I still have a few more questions to ask."
"Sorry, I got to be going now. It's," I briefly looked at my cell phone for the time, "ten thirty and I still have a long way to go."
Growling, he stopped his pacing and instead, took steps in my direction. I quickened my pace towards the bridge, which in turn made him up his to a trot. Seeing that he was closing the gap between us, I did the only thing left to me at my disposal.
I ran.
Not in a direct path, since he would have caught up with me in nothing flat and had me for his personal play toy. Instead, I zigzagged to the bridge, hoping that he would wear himself out trying to follow directly behind me.
Briefly looking over my shoulder, I saw to my horror that he wasn't following directly behind me, but instead headed straight towards the bridge. I immediately changed my zigzag to a path of interception and accelerated my stride.
I was about ten feet away when I saw he was about to reach that buried locker and the dart gun enclosed within. With a burst of energy, I launched a flying tackle at his legs, with the intent of knocking him off his feet, or at the very least slowing him down.
~~~~~~~~~~~
(c)2009 GBMJr. All rights reserved.
"What do you mean, just now?" said the bear, who didn't know about earlier.
Seeing that the bear had moved in a few inches after he'd asked his question, I quickly decided that lying was not a viable option. Carefully switching positions so that if I needed to get I could, I said brightly, "I had a fight about forty-five minutes ago with some bushes and a tree."
"Bushes and a tree."
"Yes."
"Nothing else?" At this point the bear shifted positions and moved in closer.
Worried, I moved back so as to get a better jump, just in case. Clearing my throat, I continued in the same bright tone. "From earlier?"
"Yes," he said forcefully.
"Well...I trudged through the bushes and trees, dodging the rocks that were being thrown, before coming out the other end."
"So why were you covered with branches and twigs a little while ago?"
"Jealousy."
"Excuse me?" He now stood up and started walking around me in a circle.
I stood up as well, since I didn't want to take whatever it was he wanted to deliver lying down. As a matter of fact, I started to walk slowly towards the bridge, where I knew that a small dart gun was stored in a buried locker.
He noticed this and said in a hostile tone, "Come back here you. I still have a few more questions to ask."
"Sorry, I got to be going now. It's," I briefly looked at my cell phone for the time, "ten thirty and I still have a long way to go."
Growling, he stopped his pacing and instead, took steps in my direction. I quickened my pace towards the bridge, which in turn made him up his to a trot. Seeing that he was closing the gap between us, I did the only thing left to me at my disposal.
I ran.
Not in a direct path, since he would have caught up with me in nothing flat and had me for his personal play toy. Instead, I zigzagged to the bridge, hoping that he would wear himself out trying to follow directly behind me.
Briefly looking over my shoulder, I saw to my horror that he wasn't following directly behind me, but instead headed straight towards the bridge. I immediately changed my zigzag to a path of interception and accelerated my stride.
I was about ten feet away when I saw he was about to reach that buried locker and the dart gun enclosed within. With a burst of energy, I launched a flying tackle at his legs, with the intent of knocking him off his feet, or at the very least slowing him down.
~~~~~~~~~~~
(c)2009 GBMJr. All rights reserved.
Monday, April 13, 2009
We Interrupt Your Regularly Scheduled Programming To Announce A Programming Change
Big ol' title ain't it for a tiny off-schedule posting.
Anyways, back in late September, I made this post stating that the well was running dry for stuff to write about and that I would be dropping down to one every other day, as opposed to the pace that I was currently at, which was twice every other day.
Guess what?
The well is now overflowing with stuff to write about. From talking about my writing (and everyone else's) to talking about my current job, my former job, what music I like, blogs, chat rooms and other assorted odds and ends, I have an endless supply of topics to opine about.
So I hope you'll enjoy this minor tweaking to my blog. I believe I'll be able to maintain the current quality that you've come to expect and appreciate of my posts, while increasing the quantity of my posting.
We return you now to your regular scheduled programming already in progress.
Anyways, back in late September, I made this post stating that the well was running dry for stuff to write about and that I would be dropping down to one every other day, as opposed to the pace that I was currently at, which was twice every other day.
Guess what?
The well is now overflowing with stuff to write about. From talking about my writing (and everyone else's) to talking about my current job, my former job, what music I like, blogs, chat rooms and other assorted odds and ends, I have an endless supply of topics to opine about.
So I hope you'll enjoy this minor tweaking to my blog. I believe I'll be able to maintain the current quality that you've come to expect and appreciate of my posts, while increasing the quantity of my posting.
We return you now to your regular scheduled programming already in progress.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Meet Me In The Stairwell
Hola.
I decided to add another periodic feature to my blog: e-mails. Over the past couple of years, I've gotten quite a few interesting e-mails from my friends in the Real World & the Cyber World, and I thought it would be a nice idea to share them with you.
I originally got this one from a friend whose daughter is in the military. This one, in my humble opinion, is quite appropriate for Good Friday.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You say you will never forget where you were when you heard the news on September 11, 2001.
Neither will I.
I was on the 110th floor in a smoke filled room with a man who called his wife to say 'Good-Bye.' I held his fingers steady as he dialed. I gave him the peace to say, 'Honey, I am not going to make it, but it is OK...I am ready to go.'
I was with his wife when he called as she fed breakfast to their children. I held her up as she tried to understand his words an as she realized he wasn't he wasn't coming home that night.
I was in the stairwell of the 23rd floor when a woman cried out to Me for help. 'I have been knocking on the door of your heart for 50 years!' I said. 'Of course I will show you the way home--only believe in Me now.'
I was at the base of the building with the Priest ministering to the injured and devastated souls. I took him home to tend to his Flock in Heaven. He heard my voice and answered.
I was on all four of those planes, in every seat, with every prayer. I was with the crew as they were overtaken. I was in the very hearts of the believers there, comforting and assuring then that their faith has saved them.
I was in Texas, Virginia, California, Michigan, Afghanistan. I was standing next to you when you heard the terrible news. Did you sense Me?
I want you to know that I saw every face. I knew every name--though not all know Me. Some met Me for the first time on the 86th floor.
Some sought Me with their last breath. Some couldn't hear Me calling to them through the smoke and flames; 'Come to Me...this way...take my hand.' Some chose, for the final time, to ignore Me. But, I was there.
I did not place you in the Tower that day. You may not know why, but I do. However, if you were there in that explosive moment in time, would you have reached for Me?
Sept. 11, 2001, was not the end of the journey for you. But someday your journey will end. And I will be there for you as well. Seek Me now while I may be found. Then, at any moment, you know you are 'ready to go.'
I will be in the stairwell of your final moments.
God.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Please take a moment to remember those who are now not with us today, but instead are in the loving arms of Him, whoever that Him may be that you worship in your life.
Have a glorious Good Friday and a very Happy Easter.
I shall see everyone on Tuesday.
I decided to add another periodic feature to my blog: e-mails. Over the past couple of years, I've gotten quite a few interesting e-mails from my friends in the Real World & the Cyber World, and I thought it would be a nice idea to share them with you.
I originally got this one from a friend whose daughter is in the military. This one, in my humble opinion, is quite appropriate for Good Friday.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You say you will never forget where you were when you heard the news on September 11, 2001.
Neither will I.
I was on the 110th floor in a smoke filled room with a man who called his wife to say 'Good-Bye.' I held his fingers steady as he dialed. I gave him the peace to say, 'Honey, I am not going to make it, but it is OK...I am ready to go.'
I was with his wife when he called as she fed breakfast to their children. I held her up as she tried to understand his words an as she realized he wasn't he wasn't coming home that night.
I was in the stairwell of the 23rd floor when a woman cried out to Me for help. 'I have been knocking on the door of your heart for 50 years!' I said. 'Of course I will show you the way home--only believe in Me now.'
I was at the base of the building with the Priest ministering to the injured and devastated souls. I took him home to tend to his Flock in Heaven. He heard my voice and answered.
I was on all four of those planes, in every seat, with every prayer. I was with the crew as they were overtaken. I was in the very hearts of the believers there, comforting and assuring then that their faith has saved them.
I was in Texas, Virginia, California, Michigan, Afghanistan. I was standing next to you when you heard the terrible news. Did you sense Me?
I want you to know that I saw every face. I knew every name--though not all know Me. Some met Me for the first time on the 86th floor.
Some sought Me with their last breath. Some couldn't hear Me calling to them through the smoke and flames; 'Come to Me...this way...take my hand.' Some chose, for the final time, to ignore Me. But, I was there.
I did not place you in the Tower that day. You may not know why, but I do. However, if you were there in that explosive moment in time, would you have reached for Me?
Sept. 11, 2001, was not the end of the journey for you. But someday your journey will end. And I will be there for you as well. Seek Me now while I may be found. Then, at any moment, you know you are 'ready to go.'
I will be in the stairwell of your final moments.
God.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Please take a moment to remember those who are now not with us today, but instead are in the loving arms of Him, whoever that Him may be that you worship in your life.
Have a glorious Good Friday and a very Happy Easter.
I shall see everyone on Tuesday.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
I Got Spam In My Posts!
Yowza, yowza, yowza!
Success!
I am finally a somebody!
I got a spam comment!
Now, I bet you're saying to yourself, "G, how in the world did you get a spam comment? Don't you moderate your comments, in order to avoid things like that?"
Normally I do. Usually, when I get a nasty comment from someone, it's from a someone who resides on Topix, my previous online home. The people from there who do it, have no life. They think they're being cute by doing it. You know, like a power trip of some kind. But because I know how things operate there, I simply make a post saying thus, "You know, my blog tracks all sort of nifty things. For instance, do you know that.....", then I go on a small tangent about a particular town/area of the United States. That usually shuts them up.
But....I digress.
Here, spam comments don't get by me, simply because I nuke the living daylights out of them.
But the other day, I was in a good mood, so I allowed it to be published. My good friends, this is what a typical spam comment looks like (please look at comment by Packy):
It says absolutely nothing of substance, and it contains a link to some bizarre product. I did get one of these last year, before I started moderating my comments, and the link was to exercise equipment. This one I think is to laptops/word processors, or something to that effect.
Now, I guarantee you that I will never, ever see this person again on my blog. You may see this person or someone like them, on your blog. My advice to you would be to nuke it, and others like it, from your blog. I left it on my blog simply because I wanted to write a post about it. It may disappear, but it won't be of my doing.
The only other one I've nuked was one for trees (obviously, my blog is about trees: growing, maintaining, landscaping, and obviously, that person really did read my blog).
So people, don't fall for the spammer that leaves a vapid comment plus annoying link, trying to lure your valuable readers to their website/commercial blog in order to sell them schtuff.
We return you now to your regularly scheduled programming, already in progress.
Success!
I am finally a somebody!
I got a spam comment!
Now, I bet you're saying to yourself, "G, how in the world did you get a spam comment? Don't you moderate your comments, in order to avoid things like that?"
Normally I do. Usually, when I get a nasty comment from someone, it's from a someone who resides on Topix, my previous online home. The people from there who do it, have no life. They think they're being cute by doing it. You know, like a power trip of some kind. But because I know how things operate there, I simply make a post saying thus, "You know, my blog tracks all sort of nifty things. For instance, do you know that.....", then I go on a small tangent about a particular town/area of the United States. That usually shuts them up.
But....I digress.
Here, spam comments don't get by me, simply because I nuke the living daylights out of them.
But the other day, I was in a good mood, so I allowed it to be published. My good friends, this is what a typical spam comment looks like (please look at comment by Packy):
It says absolutely nothing of substance, and it contains a link to some bizarre product. I did get one of these last year, before I started moderating my comments, and the link was to exercise equipment. This one I think is to laptops/word processors, or something to that effect.
Now, I guarantee you that I will never, ever see this person again on my blog. You may see this person or someone like them, on your blog. My advice to you would be to nuke it, and others like it, from your blog. I left it on my blog simply because I wanted to write a post about it. It may disappear, but it won't be of my doing.
The only other one I've nuked was one for trees (obviously, my blog is about trees: growing, maintaining, landscaping, and obviously, that person really did read my blog).
So people, don't fall for the spammer that leaves a vapid comment plus annoying link, trying to lure your valuable readers to their website/commercial blog in order to sell them schtuff.
We return you now to your regularly scheduled programming, already in progress.
Monday, April 6, 2009
A Serious Question For You The Reader
Hola.
I have been practicing/fine tuning my chosen writing preference for quite some time now (click here for refresher on what I write). For the most part, a lot of it has been very suggestive. On March 25th, the first story in that particular vein, Dirty Knees, was presented to the masses.
I have quite a few stories lined up that basically hang their hat in that particular realm of sexual suggestiveness. However, I have one story that I recently completed, that has definitely moved it to the next level.
The story is called Audio Dynamyte, and while it doesn't meet that classic definition of graphic, it does meet that classic definition of hardcore.
Because it doesn't meet the format of my new blog, I'm a little hesitant at throwing it over there. By the same token, because of the hardcore nature of the content, I'm also a little hesitant about throwing it on here as well.
My question to everyone is this: Which blog should I post this story on? Should I post it on this one, where for most part, the content has stayed at PG-13 but length isn't an issue? Or should I post it on the other blog, where up until now, the content has been PG-13, but I'm looking to move it to either R or NC-17?
The one constant for each choice is that a disclaimer will go up at the beginning of the story.
Any and all opinions will be considered with the same honest sincerity that they've been presented.
~~~~~~~~~
Update (4/06): I took a closer look at Bloggers Terms of Service in regards to blog content this evening. After giving it some very heavy thought, when this particular story does come out, and most likely it will be on my other blog, that blog will have the infamous "Adult Content" warning on it. Everyone will still be able to access it, you'll just have to hit the "I accept" button in order to get to it. This should (hopefully) pre-empt any potential headaches in the long run.
I have been practicing/fine tuning my chosen writing preference for quite some time now (click here for refresher on what I write). For the most part, a lot of it has been very suggestive. On March 25th, the first story in that particular vein, Dirty Knees, was presented to the masses.
I have quite a few stories lined up that basically hang their hat in that particular realm of sexual suggestiveness. However, I have one story that I recently completed, that has definitely moved it to the next level.
The story is called Audio Dynamyte, and while it doesn't meet that classic definition of graphic, it does meet that classic definition of hardcore.
Because it doesn't meet the format of my new blog, I'm a little hesitant at throwing it over there. By the same token, because of the hardcore nature of the content, I'm also a little hesitant about throwing it on here as well.
My question to everyone is this: Which blog should I post this story on? Should I post it on this one, where for most part, the content has stayed at PG-13 but length isn't an issue? Or should I post it on the other blog, where up until now, the content has been PG-13, but I'm looking to move it to either R or NC-17?
The one constant for each choice is that a disclaimer will go up at the beginning of the story.
Any and all opinions will be considered with the same honest sincerity that they've been presented.
~~~~~~~~~
Update (4/06): I took a closer look at Bloggers Terms of Service in regards to blog content this evening. After giving it some very heavy thought, when this particular story does come out, and most likely it will be on my other blog, that blog will have the infamous "Adult Content" warning on it. Everyone will still be able to access it, you'll just have to hit the "I accept" button in order to get to it. This should (hopefully) pre-empt any potential headaches in the long run.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
"Saturday" (pg 4)
Staggering, I tried to grab hold of the barrier to regain my balance. As soon as I reached for it, I was met with an even heavier dirt bomb to the head.
I fell backwards in a somersault over the barrier and landed flat on my face. A final salvo was thrown as a large bundle of twigs and branches landed on top of me. As a final insult, three squirrels came out and pelted me with rocks, before disappearing back into the mountain.
Touchy, touchy, touchy. I'll have to introduce the bush to my friend, Mr. Pruning Shears tomorrow. It took me quite a while to remove the bundle of twigs and branches because every time I tried to get untangled, someone would see me and make a snide comment.
Finally, after getting out from under Father Nature's thumb and checking for strains, sprains and bruises, I picked the remainder of Mother Earth out of my clothing and continued my walk.
As a parting shot though, I spat one big goober into the woods. Seconds later, another dirt bomb flew out and caught me square in the head. Staggering, but not losing my balance, I took off running.
Flying down the road, jumping potholes and dodging pedestrians, I felt like nothing or no one could stop me now from reaching my ultimate destination.
Except a grapefruit.
A grapefruit that blew off a car and over the bridge. A grapefruit that caught me in mid-stride. A grapefruit that stopped me from contacting the ground with my feet and instead propelled me forward at the same rate of speed that I was running only moments before.
Suddenly airborne, I still felt nothing could stop me from reaching my destination. All I had to do was change my body around so that my feet were where my head was. That way, I would be hitting the ground running, so to speak.
Simple, yes. Executing the idea, no. Before I had a chance to even shift my body around, my flight came to a screeching halt. Unbeknownst to me, a people sized bear stepped out from the mountain to see what all the hubbub was about.
I hit the bear chest high, head first and bounced backwards about several feet, and again came to a stop kissing Brother Tar. The bear, which had come out of the woods to see what was what with what, ambled over to check me out.
Sniffing my clothes for a minute or two, he then turned me over and sat me up. Sitting down himself, he leaned back, cleared his throat ad asked, "So you're the cause of all this commotion?"
~~~~~~~~~
(c) 2009 GBMJr. All rights reserved.
I fell backwards in a somersault over the barrier and landed flat on my face. A final salvo was thrown as a large bundle of twigs and branches landed on top of me. As a final insult, three squirrels came out and pelted me with rocks, before disappearing back into the mountain.
Touchy, touchy, touchy. I'll have to introduce the bush to my friend, Mr. Pruning Shears tomorrow. It took me quite a while to remove the bundle of twigs and branches because every time I tried to get untangled, someone would see me and make a snide comment.
Finally, after getting out from under Father Nature's thumb and checking for strains, sprains and bruises, I picked the remainder of Mother Earth out of my clothing and continued my walk.
As a parting shot though, I spat one big goober into the woods. Seconds later, another dirt bomb flew out and caught me square in the head. Staggering, but not losing my balance, I took off running.
Flying down the road, jumping potholes and dodging pedestrians, I felt like nothing or no one could stop me now from reaching my ultimate destination.
Except a grapefruit.
A grapefruit that blew off a car and over the bridge. A grapefruit that caught me in mid-stride. A grapefruit that stopped me from contacting the ground with my feet and instead propelled me forward at the same rate of speed that I was running only moments before.
Suddenly airborne, I still felt nothing could stop me from reaching my destination. All I had to do was change my body around so that my feet were where my head was. That way, I would be hitting the ground running, so to speak.
Simple, yes. Executing the idea, no. Before I had a chance to even shift my body around, my flight came to a screeching halt. Unbeknownst to me, a people sized bear stepped out from the mountain to see what all the hubbub was about.
I hit the bear chest high, head first and bounced backwards about several feet, and again came to a stop kissing Brother Tar. The bear, which had come out of the woods to see what was what with what, ambled over to check me out.
Sniffing my clothes for a minute or two, he then turned me over and sat me up. Sitting down himself, he leaned back, cleared his throat ad asked, "So you're the cause of all this commotion?"
~~~~~~~~~
(c) 2009 GBMJr. All rights reserved.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
I'm Sorry, You Listen To Who?
About two months ago, I made a post about what kind of children's music I listen to. I thought it was high time that I should make another post (or more) about what other types of music I listen to. So as to give everyone a further peek into the flakiest guy on the western side of the Connecticut river, I thought I would randomly pull out six c.d.'s out of my bookcase, and give a little background on the artist and why I bought the disc (or acquired) in the first place.
1) "Bat out of Hell" by Meat Loaf. I have the album on cassette (you remember cassettes, right) and the copy I have is worn out. So I went looking for a replacement and found this copy at Best Buy. Not sure when the remastered version came out, but the bombastic glory remains as solid as ever. Probably the main reason why I was attracted to it in the first place. Right. Actually what attracted me to it was that 8+ minute monster track, "Paradise by the Dashboard Light. Factoids: On the c.d. cover, it says songs by Jim Steinman. Not sure why other than he and Meat Loaf had a bitter falling out and Meat Loaf sued Jim Steinman for ownership rights to the music.
2) "Out of the Hart" by Out of the Hart. An out of print c.d. that you might be able to find a website called CD Baby.com . What's noteworthy about this particular c.d. is that the lead singer was only fourteen when she wrote and sang the music. The music is somewhat overproduced at times, but her voice really does shine through on the tracks where the production interference is minimal. She is doing much better and is has quite a few projects in the works (writing and singing). Her singing style has grown to be more a soulful yet mellow R&B sound, from what her mother has told me, who is a very good co-worker of mine.
3) "Drops of Jupiter" by Train. I first got hooked into Train with their songs "Meet Virginia" and "Calling All Angels". So naturally, when the opportunity arose for me acquire their entire run, I grabbed it. "Drops of Jupiter" is a decent hook laden c.d., of which the title track really grabs you. I did catch the video for it, and the way the string quartet was worked into the song was something exceptional.
4) "Brothers In Arms" by Dire Straits. I saw this for ten bucks at my local Stop & Shop, about a couple of months before they discontinued selling music. I always liked Dire Straits (first got into them with the song Sultans of Swing), and enough time had gone by so that I can appreciate this c.d. without being turned off by it (MTV did extremely heavy rotation on a couple of songs: Money for Nothing and Walk of Life).
5) "Cover to Cover" by the Jeff Healey Band. I usually never pay any attention to music critics and this was no exception. The critics said that this particular c.d. by the late Jeff Healey had really good songs to showcase his talent, but didn't. Some of the songs he chose to cover (Communication Breakdown for example) he could have done justice to, but didn't. Others, like "Angel" he probably could have made soar higher than Hendrix's version. Avoid this one. The best c.d. that Jeff Healey came out with was his first. Forget about "Angel Eyes", go for the title track, "See the Light". Best rockin' song on the planet. In any event, I should of paid attention to the critics.
6) "American Recordings" by Johnny Cash. I always liked Johnny Cash, but never really got into him until some of his stuff was being played on college radio. The jock on a local program called In the Weeds (can be found Friday afternoons from 1-4 on WWUH 91.3 FM, University of Hartford) was raving about this particular C.D. by Johnny Cash. And boy was he right. With this particular c.d., he re-established himself as one of the premier anti-pop country musicians in the world during the late 90's/early 2000's. If you like Johnny Cash, then please seriously consider picking up the American Recordings series (6 discs in all) that he did with Rick Rubin and friends. Tracks on this c.d. I would recommend are Oh Bury Me Not and The Man Who Couldn't Cry. Shoot, the cover alone is worth buying: Barren sky, scraggly sunflowers and wheat stalks, flanked by two dogs and wearing a classic jet black duster.
I hope you enjoy the first of what should be many, many posts on what I like to listen to for music.
1) "Bat out of Hell" by Meat Loaf. I have the album on cassette (you remember cassettes, right) and the copy I have is worn out. So I went looking for a replacement and found this copy at Best Buy. Not sure when the remastered version came out, but the bombastic glory remains as solid as ever. Probably the main reason why I was attracted to it in the first place. Right. Actually what attracted me to it was that 8+ minute monster track, "Paradise by the Dashboard Light. Factoids: On the c.d. cover, it says songs by Jim Steinman. Not sure why other than he and Meat Loaf had a bitter falling out and Meat Loaf sued Jim Steinman for ownership rights to the music.
2) "Out of the Hart" by Out of the Hart. An out of print c.d. that you might be able to find a website called CD Baby.com . What's noteworthy about this particular c.d. is that the lead singer was only fourteen when she wrote and sang the music. The music is somewhat overproduced at times, but her voice really does shine through on the tracks where the production interference is minimal. She is doing much better and is has quite a few projects in the works (writing and singing). Her singing style has grown to be more a soulful yet mellow R&B sound, from what her mother has told me, who is a very good co-worker of mine.
3) "Drops of Jupiter" by Train. I first got hooked into Train with their songs "Meet Virginia" and "Calling All Angels". So naturally, when the opportunity arose for me acquire their entire run, I grabbed it. "Drops of Jupiter" is a decent hook laden c.d., of which the title track really grabs you. I did catch the video for it, and the way the string quartet was worked into the song was something exceptional.
4) "Brothers In Arms" by Dire Straits. I saw this for ten bucks at my local Stop & Shop, about a couple of months before they discontinued selling music. I always liked Dire Straits (first got into them with the song Sultans of Swing), and enough time had gone by so that I can appreciate this c.d. without being turned off by it (MTV did extremely heavy rotation on a couple of songs: Money for Nothing and Walk of Life).
5) "Cover to Cover" by the Jeff Healey Band. I usually never pay any attention to music critics and this was no exception. The critics said that this particular c.d. by the late Jeff Healey had really good songs to showcase his talent, but didn't. Some of the songs he chose to cover (Communication Breakdown for example) he could have done justice to, but didn't. Others, like "Angel" he probably could have made soar higher than Hendrix's version. Avoid this one. The best c.d. that Jeff Healey came out with was his first. Forget about "Angel Eyes", go for the title track, "See the Light". Best rockin' song on the planet. In any event, I should of paid attention to the critics.
6) "American Recordings" by Johnny Cash. I always liked Johnny Cash, but never really got into him until some of his stuff was being played on college radio. The jock on a local program called In the Weeds (can be found Friday afternoons from 1-4 on WWUH 91.3 FM, University of Hartford) was raving about this particular C.D. by Johnny Cash. And boy was he right. With this particular c.d., he re-established himself as one of the premier anti-pop country musicians in the world during the late 90's/early 2000's. If you like Johnny Cash, then please seriously consider picking up the American Recordings series (6 discs in all) that he did with Rick Rubin and friends. Tracks on this c.d. I would recommend are Oh Bury Me Not and The Man Who Couldn't Cry. Shoot, the cover alone is worth buying: Barren sky, scraggly sunflowers and wheat stalks, flanked by two dogs and wearing a classic jet black duster.
I hope you enjoy the first of what should be many, many posts on what I like to listen to for music.
What I'd Do Wrong?
Happy Thursday everyone.
This is the first of special three post day.
It will be short one, and the topic is my blog, hence the title of the post. This morning, I was doing what I normally do when I go online: check my mail, surf a couple of sites and finally, check my blog.
After moderating a comment, I went to view my blog like I normally do, before I responded to the comment I left there. Imagine my surprise (not to mention my shock), when I found that my previously healthy subscriber count of 34, dropped all the way down to a life support 6.
To all my now former subscribers, I ask you this: What did I do wrong to make you unsubscribe to my blog? Was the content starting to get a little bit dry? Was I starting to explore tangents that weren't quite jiving with the original intent of this blog? Did I discontinue something that perhaps you were enjoying previously?
I truly do want to know what I can do to make you want to re-subscribe to my blog.
In any event, whether you choose to re-subscribe or not, I do enjoy and appreciate every single one of my readers who either read me on a daily/weekly basis or happen to search me out through one of the search engines.
Peace.
~~~~~~~
Update 4/3: It seems that you guys were right about it being a glitch (I hope). My subscriber base just doubled up to 12. If it wasn't, then I truly thank everyone for resubscribing.
Update 4/4: It now seems that my subscriber list is back to normal, as I'm now up to 37.
This is the first of special three post day.
It will be short one, and the topic is my blog, hence the title of the post. This morning, I was doing what I normally do when I go online: check my mail, surf a couple of sites and finally, check my blog.
After moderating a comment, I went to view my blog like I normally do, before I responded to the comment I left there. Imagine my surprise (not to mention my shock), when I found that my previously healthy subscriber count of 34, dropped all the way down to a life support 6.
To all my now former subscribers, I ask you this: What did I do wrong to make you unsubscribe to my blog? Was the content starting to get a little bit dry? Was I starting to explore tangents that weren't quite jiving with the original intent of this blog? Did I discontinue something that perhaps you were enjoying previously?
I truly do want to know what I can do to make you want to re-subscribe to my blog.
In any event, whether you choose to re-subscribe or not, I do enjoy and appreciate every single one of my readers who either read me on a daily/weekly basis or happen to search me out through one of the search engines.
Peace.
~~~~~~~
Update 4/3: It seems that you guys were right about it being a glitch (I hope). My subscriber base just doubled up to 12. If it wasn't, then I truly thank everyone for resubscribing.
Update 4/4: It now seems that my subscriber list is back to normal, as I'm now up to 37.
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