This is the best thing about the New Year…

You made it! You survived another year! I mean, if you’re reading this that means you are still alive, which is reason to celebrate! So many people didn’t make it and we remember them as we move forward – but we move forward. We are the ones who live in the new world of 2014, providing you don’t die before midnight. (Here’s a tip: Don’t die before midnight.)

But there’s more. There’s so much more. There’s a whole year, laid out in front of us like an endless cake. It’s frosted. It’s decorated. And it’s all for us to enjoy.

Sure, it might suck. It might be the worst cake ever. It might taste quite literally like shit.

But it’s ours. It’s life. You don’t need a resolution. You don’t even need change. All you need to do is recognize this incredible opportunity – this incredible gift – that is another minute, another hour, another day, month, and if you are lucky an entire year. Maybe more!

That’s the best thing about the New Year. You’re still here. Congratulations.

Now, appreciate it.

A Matching Pair…

Sometimes, I get a reminder of just how well Vicky and I fit together – and sometimes that reminder isn’t necessarily necessary.

Take our Christmas, for instance. (One is tempted to say “Please” at this point, though I wouldn’t trade it for anything.)

Two days before Christmas, Vicky took a tumble in a Starbucks and sprained her ankle pretty badly. We spent pretty much the entire day in an (misnomer alert!) Urgent Care Center, where they determined that she didn’t break any bones. You could have fooled us with all the swelling, but we were glad she was still in one piece.

They gave her some crutches and little else and sent us on our way. And I spent Christmas Eve taking care of Vicky.

… well, I spent most of Christmas Eve taking care of Vicky. I spent the rest of Christmas Eve becoming deathly ill.

The worst part about this is I know it was my fault. I’m a pretty fair cook – have never killed anyone – but I know I got sick from either:

• My fried egg sandwich
• My coffee
• Or the dinner I made…

One way or the other, I was sick on the night before Christmas, choking back rivers of Christmas Spirit in the form of vomit.

The next day, Christmas morning, we had to drive out to see Vicky’s family. It’s about a 90 minute drive and Vicky’s ankle wouldn’t let her drive. More importantly, I wouldn’t let her drive. I was supposed to be taking care of her, don’t forget. So, I offered to drive, not realizing what the constant motion of the car would do to my nausea… it would turn it into HULK NAUSEA! (Don’t make me vomit. You wouldn’t like it when I vomit.)

With Vicky’s family on Christmas morning, my wife limped around and I laid perfectly still.

Oh yes, we were quite the pair. But, you know what they say: “In sickness and in health”…

5 Brief Minutes on Swearing on the Bible...

Radio de'Olde presents "Wither Capitalism"...

Why we have a Muslim President…

Got into a conversation with an old lady at the doctor’s office today. Basically, I said “Hello” and then let her talk.

I like doing this because it gives me an insight into what people are thinking out there in the real world.

This woman went from “I was a teacher of painting” to talking about a painting she saw of a girl being stoned in Iran to how the Muslims took over Iran to how they’re taking over Europe and all the way to…

“That’s how we ended up with a Muslim president, you know? Nobody wants to say anything because he’s black. They don’t want to offend anyone. But he’s a Muslim. That’s how they take over, you know? They get elected and you can’t say anything because they’re black.”

Her statement was so filled with racism, hatred, and intolerance, I nearly converted to Islam on the spot. I mean… first of all, it’s not illegal to be Muslim, last I checked. And, on top of that, how many Christian churches does President Obama have to go to before people stop thinking he’s a Muslim?

Mostly, though, I realized how easy it is for otherwise sane people (and I admit that’s an assumption but let’s let her have that) to get so twisted by hate. She probably didn’t start out hating Barack Obama but once some political operative put the label MUSLIM on him – after all, just look at his name! – there was probably no going back.

I felt sorry for the old woman.

I feel sorry for racists and people who live out of fear and hate. It’s not just that they’re fucking idiots. It’s that they’re pathetic. They’re sad.

And they’re fucking idiots.

The Day We Said Goodbye, Trailer #1...

The Day We Said Goodbye is out today, exclusively for the Kindle!...

I'm pleased to announce the release of my third memoir, The Day We Said Goodbye. The initial launch is exclusively for the Kindle - but keep an eye out for other formats and an audiobook, coming soon!

What do you do when your father is losing his life just as you are losing your mind? Run like hell.

At the close of A Grand Canyon, Ken La Salle and his beloved Vicky drive off into the sunset. It’s a fairy tale ending, providing your idea of a fairy tale includes suicide attempts, hallucinations, and crippling self-doubt.

Now, in The Day We Said Goodbye, it’s time to live the dream. Vicky and Ken get married, travel the world, and embrace the warm light of love. Or so Ken wanted to believe. But he never really dealt with the impulses that drove him to the edge of the Grand Canyon, now manifesting in schizophrenic episodes, like when his ex-wife shows up at his wedding.

And it doesn’t help that his father is dying and Ken has to find a way to say Goodbye.

The Day We Said Goodbye is Ken La Salle’s third memoir, following A Grand Canyon and Climbing Maya. It combines razor-sharp observations with revealing wisdom and the story of how goodbyes are often all we’re left with when everything you know, and everything you think you know, fades away with time. It is a book for anyone who has lost someone, anyone losing themselves… and anyone who is lost.

The audiobook version (coming soon!), read by the author, is beautifully scored with the Josh Woodward song, History Repeats. (www.joshwoodward.com)

Now in audio - Daughter of a One-Armed Man...

I'm happy to announce the Daughter of a One-Armed Man audiobook is now available from Audible, iTunes, and wherever fine audiobooks are sold!

 

Jackson is just a Wal-Mart worker from Los Angeles, far too caught up in the apathy of modern life to believe in anything. After spending one night with the daughter of a wood nymph and the man who surrendered his arm for the woman he loved, the lithesome beauty named Mari, Jackson knows he believes. And he knows he'll do anything to find her again.  

He follows her up the coast of California and a polar bear drives the taxi. Into the forest and through frozen mountains, he talks to God and creatures of faerie alike but the final confrontation is with the mother whose people have been wiped out by mankind.
They were wiped out the same way humanity is wiping itself out, with greed and disregard.  

Daughter is more than just a simple love story because it also poses this question to the listener: Is love really possible? Can human beings really love each other? How is it possible for parents who pollute the world they're leaving behind to say they love their children? How can we say we look out for each other, even as we divert our eyes to the homeless we see every day?  

For, if love isn't possible, how can Jackson really say he loves Mari? Faced with proof after proof that it doesn't exist, Jackson's only hope is to somehow prove otherwise. Daughter of a One-Armed Man is lush with impossible discoveries and words of hope for the future, beautifully scored with the Josh Woodward song, Don't Close Your Eyes.

Head, you say? Try 5 Brief Minutes...

Daughter of a One-Armed Man: Trailer #2...

ASMR not... ASMR too...

Here, then, is Radio de'Olde, Episode -4(3): "ASMR not. ASMR too."

This, of course, is my way of taking the recent artform of ASMR (Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response)... and adding absolutely nothing to it.

Preparation is 2/3 hair...

Vicky: You've got a tuft of hair growing on the back of your neck.
Ken: I know. That's for cold weather, in case I get trapped in a snow bank.

It's mostly in the eyes...

So, after injuring my foot about a month ago, I've taken what you might call a breather from any running or jogging... or walking... until I'm just about climbing the walls. And I'm flat out tired of "resting my foot" and waiting for the dang appendage to heal.

And then, this morning, I got the idea in my head that I could take just a short walk, just a little one.

"Has your foot hurt in the last week?" Vicky asked me.

"Yes," I replied.

"In the last five days?"

"Yes."

I should have seen where Vicky's line of questioning was going. She's sneaky like this. "In the last two days," asked little miss know it all...

"Yes," I said. "But only yesterday morning."

I tell you all this because, while I do not believe in psychics, I have somehow gained the knack of being able to tell my wife is thinking I'm an idiot without her needing to say a word...

The abbreviated, first trailer for Daughter of a One-Armed Man: Dear Friend...

My Side talks about A Lack of Evidence...

5 Brief Minutes on The 10 Commandments...

A 5 Brief Minutes preview...

This weekend will see the start of my new YouTube series, 5 Brief Minutes. And I've decided to share the image below as just a brief preview...

So Dream Something, Season 1 closing episode...

In Our Selves... the Trailer...

Dreams make us better, happier, healthier people. They help us achieve our greatest potential. They help us become the person we want to be.

With In Our Selves, Ken La Salle brings another collection of essays from the pages of Recovering the Self. Not only does he share his journey but he also provides the reader with tips and clues and signposts to help them along the way.

Dreams are the best parts of all of us. We should never forget they lie not in the stars but In Our Selves…

Zombie guts…

So, Vicky and I were out walking the dogs the other day when the topic of zombies came up… again. (What can I say? We like to keep our conversations lively.)

Not only did we talk about zombies. We also talked about zombie… guts.

Here’s the thing: Imagine you’re a zombie (Republicans, this shouldn’t be too hard). You’ve eaten a side of person but you’re still a bit peckish, so you opt for some brain salad with a side of liver, spleen, and intestine.

Now that you’ve eaten all of that… where does it go?

Seriously, where does it all go?

Do zombies poop?

None of the standard zombie cannon shows any sign of zombie bathroom habits.

If zombies don’t poop, what happens to all that yummy people? Do they digest it? They can’t, obviously, because they are dead.

Take that to its logical conclusion and you find that zombies are bound to be… well, bound. I mean, zombies would keep a gastroenterologist pretty busy. Eventually, they’d just be these stick-thin walking corpses with huge, distended stomachs.

… and who the hell wants to talk about that?