Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Monday, August 30, 2010
Julia was sick today, but Liam wasn't, so I piled them both in the car and took him to school and then her to the store to buy an orange and some chicken noodle soup. On the way back home from the store Julia started screaming bloody murder. I have never heard her scream like that, ever, so I instantly pulled over to see what was going on. I thought maybe she had a spider on her; maybe it had bitten her. I turned around and she points to my seat. Right there, just a few inches from my arm, sat a HUGE praying mantis.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Since everyone (well, at least my best blogger friends) is talking about vacations today, I'll tell you about mine. Things in my memory can be sorted out like the bible: there was BDL(Before Dad Left) and ADL(After Dad Left).
Friday, August 27, 2010
I was listening to Carole King's Tapestry last night, and remembered how much I love her. She never considered herself the most beautiful woman in the world, and it took much prodding to get her to record the album, early 70's. You may not know this, but she wrote/helped write many of the famous songs of the 1960's, and it's unfortunate that her versions are the ones lesser heard on the radio. She was feminine soul, and more than that, she was vulnerable with her feelings; real. Listening to her version of "Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow" is an incredibly tender and moving experience, perhaps made so because it came straight from her own heart.
Have a wonderful Friday!
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Filling Station Flip
Tucker and his son Jim had worked together at their own filling station since Jim could hold a rag and walk without falling down, though Tucker’d had to keep a good eye on the little tyke to make sure he didn’t get squashed into the oil spotted pavement by somebody's old Chevy. Jim turned out to be quite smart about these things, and was also good about hanging onto his father’s overalls at most times of the day, so worries slipped off soon enough.
It was a good attraction to have Jim shining up cars and washing windows standing on an old wooden crate. People decided it was worth it to drive the extra three blocks from the more professional looking, self-serve station that had been built only a year before right next to the IGA supermarket. They said, “What a good boy he is, that son of Tucker,” and “Isn’t it cute to see a young’n like that working so hard?” And it was good. He was a good boy through and through and Tucker loved him more than he could have loved anything on this earth; more than money; more even than his wife.
One day, when Jim was still so young to be a novelty, but old enough to be watching his own footsteps, a gold Plymouth came rolling into the station, ran over the bell wire, and parked right next to the unleaded pump. The windows were dark tinted, and the tires spotlessly clean as if they hadn’t driven through any of the gravel streets of town.
“Must’ve come right off the interstate,” Tucker mused to himself, grabbing his oil rag and wiping down his sweat covered forehead. “I’ll go see what he wants. Stay here son, and stack those Penzoil cans.”
Little Jim made no answer; he was already busy doing just that and didn’t want to ruin the perfect row he’d created.
Tucker advanced toward the car. Cops in town used Plymouths just like this one, but theirs were painted with the standard black and white colors and letters known to be of the law enforcement kind. A 1977 body with tiny chip on the windshield, he thought to himself, stopping right next to the driver’s side window. He waited for it to be rolled down so he could offer his services.
He heard the sound of an automated window, and soon saw, in slow revelation, the image of a face mostly covered with a black cap and wide, gold-rimmed sunglasses. “Mr. Twain?”
“Yep. That be me. How can I help you?”
The round tip of a gun barrel raised up and pointed into his face. “I want the boy.”
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Monday, August 23, 2010
Okay, so I know many of you do the whole Twitter thing, Facebook, and of course we all blog. These activities are part of an online presence that we use to build our career, draw in fans, spread news about our projects, contests, etc. Let's say you're shy like me, but let it loose online. People who don't know me think I'm very quiet and reserved, but spend enough time, and maybe some liquor, and I'm ME. I gotta trust ya first. Well, so people online are getting to see and hear the real me all the time (for better or worse) and so if I ever met them, there'd be no shyness, no reason to hide anything. That's what an online presence does. It draws like-minded people, because no one's going to read a blog or follow someone on Twitter if they can't stand them. Basically, we're not wasting any time here; we're targeting the right places instead of aimlessly walking through a town hanging promotional posters that will only be thrown away. We're also making friends.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Friday, August 20, 2010
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Hey friends, I just wanted to let you know that there are just a few days left to enter your work in the Lettuce WRITE contest over at Karen's blog. I highly recommend it. If you have a manuscript you are ready to query, please take a look. Good luck! Oh, and wish me a little bit of the same, I'll be entering too!
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Perhaps sending in that query for a book or story is like jumping off a bridge (bungee style of course). The thoughts that go through your head are what define the experience. One person might look down and make the mistake of picturing their death. Hard to jump after thinking something like that. Another person thinks that it will be a great rush, and wants to linger in the whole adrenaline-fused moment. It's not if they live or die; it's the whole act of it that they get off on. Lastly, a person might think of the consequences, but decide it's worth the risk. They know the cord will most likely hold out, and that, even though sacred shitless, the experience is worth the risk. They neither crave nor shun the moment, they just want to know that they are brave enough to do it, that the experience will be good for them as a human and will enhance the rest of their life.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Sometimes I go through spots of time where I don't really have that much to say, or, at least, I don't know what to say. All I know is it will come back and there's nothing to worry about. Only it makes me a horrible friend to others. I hate chit-chat and lose more friends over this stupid thing called conversation. Do we really have to call each other every day? I'm fine, I hope you're fine. Debates are more my style, but who the hell wants to debate religion and politics with their friends? No one. Not smart people at least. Wait, I think I just incriminated myself.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Monday, August 9, 2010
Ya'll know I write under a pen name. photo credit: Web-Betty Pete's Kitchen | Denver, CO via photopin (license) A girl’s...
Hello, dear readers! Are you in the path of the eclipse? Did you buy the special glasses? I am sort of in the path and bought glasses . . . ...
I love, love love Kurt Vile. He's a great songwriter, but perhaps what made me love him first was he looked like the lovechild of Janis ...
My wonderful and dear friend, Cro Magnon , has invited me to join his entourage at the upcoming Willow Ball , September 30th. I'm going...