Blue Food and other Menu Items, Ken La Salle’s first collection of short stories is now available on Amazon and Smashwords. This combination brings this short story collection to a wide variety of the most popular e-readers: Kindle, Nook, iPad, you name it! You can find Blue Food through either of the following links:
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Blue-Food-other-items-ebook/dp/B004TYYX1A/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1303157999&sr=1-1
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/51617
The works of Ken La Salle range from the bizarre to the whimsical and even further beyond still. In Blue Food and other menu items, Ken La Salle treats you to a dozen tales, hilarious and deeply strange.
You’ll be introduced to Blue Food and find out why it never seemed to catch on in America.
You’ll meet Bigfoot’s Older Brother and find out just what it’s like to set Bigfoot up on a date.
You’ll be learn about how the dead make the best matchmakers, even if they can be a bit unconventional.
You’ll see for yourself just what the Problem With Swings is.
You’ll read about how saving earth might be just the thing for a little girl with Muscular Dystrophy.
You’ll be warned about Bobby’s Brother and his unusual habit.
You’ll know just how to stop an invading horde with the proper use of pizza.
You’ll delve into the mind of a madman whose madness is often served on a cone.
You’ll read from the lost book of Houston with a story about when Jesus met the Soothsayers.
You’ll encounter a strange married couple who would rather stay together if they can avoid killing each other.
You’ll witness a great new game show: What’s My Afterlife!
And you’ll finally find out the secret behind pheromones.
“These are all fun stories and the digital format makes reading them a breeze, anywhere,” the author commented. “With its low purchase price, it’s the perfect collection for someone who just wants a good laugh.”
Ken La Salle will soon see other collections and novels available in digital media. He is represented by Sullivan Maxx Literary Agency.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Sick and fast…
I was going to go for a ride today…
I woke up at 6am with the idea that I’d get ready and hit the road by 7am. I got out of bed and thought, “Hmmm, I’m feeling a little under the weather.”
I went downstairs to feed the cat, who was complaining as always, and thought, “Hmmm, I’m not feeling so good. I should take some Advil.”
I poured myself a little orange juice and grabbed a few Advil and thought, “Damn, I think I’m actually feeling kind of sick.”
I walked back to the stairway to go upstairs and the floor fell away beneath me, my body shook, my bearings went all askew and I nearly fell down as I thought, “Holy crap, I’m dying!”
I struggled up the stairs and barely carried myself back to bed, panting, my body a limp noodle, all thoughts of my ride behind me.
It was 6:10am…
I woke up at 6am with the idea that I’d get ready and hit the road by 7am. I got out of bed and thought, “Hmmm, I’m feeling a little under the weather.”
I went downstairs to feed the cat, who was complaining as always, and thought, “Hmmm, I’m not feeling so good. I should take some Advil.”
I poured myself a little orange juice and grabbed a few Advil and thought, “Damn, I think I’m actually feeling kind of sick.”
I walked back to the stairway to go upstairs and the floor fell away beneath me, my body shook, my bearings went all askew and I nearly fell down as I thought, “Holy crap, I’m dying!”
I struggled up the stairs and barely carried myself back to bed, panting, my body a limp noodle, all thoughts of my ride behind me.
It was 6:10am…
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
The thing about the closet…
I recently came out rather strongly against being “in the closet” as a writer.
… then, bills needed to be paid.
The thing is, the closet has its benefits. If I can work a full-time job, I can usually pay my bills and buy stuff and not feel as if I’m going to lose my home.
Last week, I got a call about a full-time job as an Assistant Marketing Manager for a local tech firm. I wasn’t about to turn it down. Despite my loathing of the closet, I know better than to say “No” to an opportunity for employment. Anyway, since I stopped applying for full-time jobs, I figured this might be the last time I was called in to interview for a position as a marketing professional.
And the thing is, it went rather well. The Marketing Manager I met with had similar sensibilities as me and was very open to my (let’s call it “diverse”) background. She said the more experience you have, the better you look as a candidate. Believe it or not, I normally encounter people who will tell me that it’s not possible for me to have worked as both a technical writer and a marketing writer – not that’s it’s unlikely but that it’s impossible. Basically, they call me a liar.
After I came home, I told Vicky that if I don’t get this job I don’t deserve to work full-time. My logic is that if I am so bad at reading people in the corporate environment – if my corporate instincts are that bad – that I think I had a good interview when I actually just made an ass of myself, my days in marketing should be put behind me. The longer I spend in the trenches as a writer, the better those instincts develop. So, this is a good opportunity to either go or go home.
I should also acknowledge Vicky’s part in this. For those of you out there thinking that I’m taking advantage of her, you’re probably right. But she has clearly stated her support for me while also admitting that I need to find a job of some kind when my unemployment benefits run out – you know, since the whole “finding a marketing job” thing has panned out so successfully. This means, I am not above working retail for the first time in 20 years.
We’re walking a fine line between having faith in my abilities as a writer and keeping our home. The plan is to make those lines meet. We’ll see…
… then, bills needed to be paid.
The thing is, the closet has its benefits. If I can work a full-time job, I can usually pay my bills and buy stuff and not feel as if I’m going to lose my home.
Last week, I got a call about a full-time job as an Assistant Marketing Manager for a local tech firm. I wasn’t about to turn it down. Despite my loathing of the closet, I know better than to say “No” to an opportunity for employment. Anyway, since I stopped applying for full-time jobs, I figured this might be the last time I was called in to interview for a position as a marketing professional.
And the thing is, it went rather well. The Marketing Manager I met with had similar sensibilities as me and was very open to my (let’s call it “diverse”) background. She said the more experience you have, the better you look as a candidate. Believe it or not, I normally encounter people who will tell me that it’s not possible for me to have worked as both a technical writer and a marketing writer – not that’s it’s unlikely but that it’s impossible. Basically, they call me a liar.
After I came home, I told Vicky that if I don’t get this job I don’t deserve to work full-time. My logic is that if I am so bad at reading people in the corporate environment – if my corporate instincts are that bad – that I think I had a good interview when I actually just made an ass of myself, my days in marketing should be put behind me. The longer I spend in the trenches as a writer, the better those instincts develop. So, this is a good opportunity to either go or go home.
I should also acknowledge Vicky’s part in this. For those of you out there thinking that I’m taking advantage of her, you’re probably right. But she has clearly stated her support for me while also admitting that I need to find a job of some kind when my unemployment benefits run out – you know, since the whole “finding a marketing job” thing has panned out so successfully. This means, I am not above working retail for the first time in 20 years.
We’re walking a fine line between having faith in my abilities as a writer and keeping our home. The plan is to make those lines meet. We’ll see…
Wednesday, April 06, 2011
Government Overhaul 10-Step Program
I read this reply to a story on Yahoo. I think it is a good start for solving some of the problems with the US Government.
1. Term Limits. No more than two Congressional terms.
2. No Tenure / No Pension.
A Congressman collects a salary while in office and receives no pay when they are out of office.
3. Congress (past, present & future) participates in Social Security.
All funds in the Congressional retirement fund move to the Social Security system immediately. All future funds flow into the Social Security system, and Congress participates with the American people.
4. Congress can purchase their own retirement plan, just as all Americans may do.
5. Congress will no longer vote themselves a pay raise. Congressional pay will rise by vote of the people.
6. Congress loses their current health care system and participates in the same health care system as the American people.
7. Congress must equally abide by all laws they impose on the American people.
8. All contracts with past and present Congressmen are void effective 1/1/12. The American people did not make these contracts with Congressmen. Congressmen made all these contracts for themselves.
9. Make all lobbyists and special interest groups illegal. They have no basis or rights for their existence except the greed of the oligarchs they represent. This is the heart of our dysfunctional government system. This is "legal bribery" in America and the Supreme Court has sanctioned it.
10. All campaign contributions, corporate or private, cannot exceed $250 max. No candidate can use their OWN money to campaign with. This violates the constitutional principles of equal opportunities for ALL people in the nation. If candidates qualify for federal campaign monies, then that is what they can use. Otherwise, they hit the trail like everyone else for the last 200 years.
Serving in Congress is an honor, not a career. The Founding Fathers envisioned citizen legislators, so ours should serve their term(s), then go home and back to work.
This is what is needed to begin the long overdue overhaul of our government!
1. Term Limits. No more than two Congressional terms.
2. No Tenure / No Pension.
A Congressman collects a salary while in office and receives no pay when they are out of office.
3. Congress (past, present & future) participates in Social Security.
All funds in the Congressional retirement fund move to the Social Security system immediately. All future funds flow into the Social Security system, and Congress participates with the American people.
4. Congress can purchase their own retirement plan, just as all Americans may do.
5. Congress will no longer vote themselves a pay raise. Congressional pay will rise by vote of the people.
6. Congress loses their current health care system and participates in the same health care system as the American people.
7. Congress must equally abide by all laws they impose on the American people.
8. All contracts with past and present Congressmen are void effective 1/1/12. The American people did not make these contracts with Congressmen. Congressmen made all these contracts for themselves.
9. Make all lobbyists and special interest groups illegal. They have no basis or rights for their existence except the greed of the oligarchs they represent. This is the heart of our dysfunctional government system. This is "legal bribery" in America and the Supreme Court has sanctioned it.
10. All campaign contributions, corporate or private, cannot exceed $250 max. No candidate can use their OWN money to campaign with. This violates the constitutional principles of equal opportunities for ALL people in the nation. If candidates qualify for federal campaign monies, then that is what they can use. Otherwise, they hit the trail like everyone else for the last 200 years.
Serving in Congress is an honor, not a career. The Founding Fathers envisioned citizen legislators, so ours should serve their term(s), then go home and back to work.
Death Misses and other tales of death... now availble on Kindle...
Today I am happy to announce that my next Kindle (and iPad Kindle app) book, Death Misses… and other tales of death, is now available from Amazon for just $2.99. You’ll find the pitch below and I hope you’ll find it soon on your e-reader. (Yes, iBooks and Nook and other formats will also soon be available.) If you know anyone with an iPad or Kindle, please share the news!
These works by Ken La Salle range from the bizarre to the morbid and even further beyond still. In Death Misses and other tales of death, Ken La Salle treats you to a dozen deadly tales to keep you up at night.
You’ll find out exactly what happens when Death misses and what lengths he’ll go to fix that.
You’ll meet a scientist who has overcome death, though it might overcome him.
You’ll encounter a man who can hear souls no matter where they are imprisoned.
You’ll learn for yourself the incredible secret of Stewart Rollings Mott.
You’ll find out just how much it costs to buy spiritual enlightenment.
You’ll witness the birth of a new kind of creature, one who sheds light.
You’ll find out when peeling isn’t quite enough for one man.
You’ll accompany one helpful soul who is looking for a way out.
You’ll know the terror that goes with an itch that is… just… out… of… reach…
You’ll read about a very helpful car that even gives you your keys.
You’ll sink inside the dreams of the dead.
And you’ll learn exactly why dead… ain’t.
Death Misses and other tales of death is a guided tour across the graveyard – but it’ll only bite you in the wallet a tiny bit.
These works by Ken La Salle range from the bizarre to the morbid and even further beyond still. In Death Misses and other tales of death, Ken La Salle treats you to a dozen deadly tales to keep you up at night.
You’ll find out exactly what happens when Death misses and what lengths he’ll go to fix that.
You’ll meet a scientist who has overcome death, though it might overcome him.
You’ll encounter a man who can hear souls no matter where they are imprisoned.
You’ll learn for yourself the incredible secret of Stewart Rollings Mott.
You’ll find out just how much it costs to buy spiritual enlightenment.
You’ll witness the birth of a new kind of creature, one who sheds light.
You’ll find out when peeling isn’t quite enough for one man.
You’ll accompany one helpful soul who is looking for a way out.
You’ll know the terror that goes with an itch that is… just… out… of… reach…
You’ll read about a very helpful car that even gives you your keys.
You’ll sink inside the dreams of the dead.
And you’ll learn exactly why dead… ain’t.
Death Misses and other tales of death is a guided tour across the graveyard – but it’ll only bite you in the wallet a tiny bit.
Monday, April 04, 2011
A Grand Canyon, One Man's Journey Through Depression...
Today I am happy to announce that my next Kindle (and iPad Kindle app) book, titled A Grand Canyon, One Man’s Journey Through Depression, is now available for just $4.95. (You can find the link to your right as well.) You’ll find the pitch below and I hope you’ll find it soon on your e-reader. (Yes, iBooks and Nook and other formats will also soon be available.) If you know anyone with an iPad or Kindle, please share the news!
Author Ken La Salle has written over a dozen novels and his plays have been performed around Southern California, but his most personal work remained hidden until now.
In September 2002, Ken left his home and drove to the Grand Canyon to kill himself. The only life he'd ever known was little more than a shambles. He'd lost his wife and now he realized that he really couldn't live without her. All that was left was depression, booze, and guilt - with a running start and a jump over the edge, he would end it all.
Ken's story is filled with dysfunctional families, love found and lost, breakups, breakdowns, and his attempts to end it all. It's the true story of a man lost without love and too destroyed to think he deserves love. But the most amazing part of the story isn't what set him on the road to the Grand Canyon; it's what happened... afterwards...
Author Ken La Salle has written over a dozen novels and his plays have been performed around Southern California, but his most personal work remained hidden until now.
In September 2002, Ken left his home and drove to the Grand Canyon to kill himself. The only life he'd ever known was little more than a shambles. He'd lost his wife and now he realized that he really couldn't live without her. All that was left was depression, booze, and guilt - with a running start and a jump over the edge, he would end it all.
Ken's story is filled with dysfunctional families, love found and lost, breakups, breakdowns, and his attempts to end it all. It's the true story of a man lost without love and too destroyed to think he deserves love. But the most amazing part of the story isn't what set him on the road to the Grand Canyon; it's what happened... afterwards...
Saturday, April 02, 2011
So, this is where the bad news comes in…
Very few literary careers move in a progressively upwards direction, from base to summit. Most take detours along the way.
And so it is that I have the following bad news to report. Northern Frights Publishing is going on hiatus, temporarily shutting its doors as it weathers some difficult times. What this means to me is that the publication of Wormfood Island is no longer a certainty, in any sense. It is now off the table.
I know that quite a few of you have been looking forward to the publication of Wormfood Island. Believe me, so have I. This is sadly one of the truths of artistic endeavors: bad things happen. With this news following so closely on the heels of signing with an agent for Climbing Maya, it may still sting distinctly of whiplash but I feel compelled to believe that good things still do happen. As a matter of fact, with other writing by Ken La Salle coming out digitally and more theaters looking at my work with interest, I find I can face this change in plans regarding Wormfood Island with a tempered sort of optimism.
This is only a change in plans and it is temporary. I have gone over a few options regarding where to go next with the novel and will be pursuing those. In the meantime, a new book (Once Removed) is almost ready to go in front of agents and publishers. In this writer’s life, hope springs with each new project.
I want to thank all of you who have believed so strongly in me and in Wormfood Island. Your faith and enthusiasm always make this trip more worthwhile. Northern Frights has been nothing but decent and encouraging in a business too often filled with slimeballs and I hope that, despite this setback, we do ending up working together again.
There’s surely more to come and I’ll let you know when it does.
You can just imagine what this did to all the talk going on about “coming out of the closet”. Vicky’s first request was for me to give the closet a second chance. Then we talked about it and realized it’s not that easy. We’ve both worked hard for this to happen and, rather than backing off, the thing for us to do is to work even hard. So, we will.
Our partnership – our marriage – has weathered some tough times but we have always weathered them together. Vicky is an incredible part of my writing career because she takes those risks with me and shares in the reward.
Remember, everything changed in just one week. Who knows what next week will hold?
And so it is that I have the following bad news to report. Northern Frights Publishing is going on hiatus, temporarily shutting its doors as it weathers some difficult times. What this means to me is that the publication of Wormfood Island is no longer a certainty, in any sense. It is now off the table.
I know that quite a few of you have been looking forward to the publication of Wormfood Island. Believe me, so have I. This is sadly one of the truths of artistic endeavors: bad things happen. With this news following so closely on the heels of signing with an agent for Climbing Maya, it may still sting distinctly of whiplash but I feel compelled to believe that good things still do happen. As a matter of fact, with other writing by Ken La Salle coming out digitally and more theaters looking at my work with interest, I find I can face this change in plans regarding Wormfood Island with a tempered sort of optimism.
This is only a change in plans and it is temporary. I have gone over a few options regarding where to go next with the novel and will be pursuing those. In the meantime, a new book (Once Removed) is almost ready to go in front of agents and publishers. In this writer’s life, hope springs with each new project.
I want to thank all of you who have believed so strongly in me and in Wormfood Island. Your faith and enthusiasm always make this trip more worthwhile. Northern Frights has been nothing but decent and encouraging in a business too often filled with slimeballs and I hope that, despite this setback, we do ending up working together again.
There’s surely more to come and I’ll let you know when it does.
You can just imagine what this did to all the talk going on about “coming out of the closet”. Vicky’s first request was for me to give the closet a second chance. Then we talked about it and realized it’s not that easy. We’ve both worked hard for this to happen and, rather than backing off, the thing for us to do is to work even hard. So, we will.
Our partnership – our marriage – has weathered some tough times but we have always weathered them together. Vicky is an incredible part of my writing career because she takes those risks with me and shares in the reward.
Remember, everything changed in just one week. Who knows what next week will hold?
Friday, April 01, 2011
Evertime & Evermore, a collection of poetry...
Today I am happy to announce that another short collection, titled Evertime and Everymore, a collection of poetry, is now available for your Kindle (or iPad’s Kindle app) for just $2.99. You’ll find the pitch below and I hope you’ll find it soon on your e-reader. (Yes, iBooks and Nook and other formats will also soon be available.) I've included the link to Amazon here as well as in the list to the right. If you know anyone with an iPad or Kindle, please share the news!
In Evertime, my love was lost upon a fallen shore...
and here I wait, awaiting Evertime and Evermore.
In Evertime and Evermore, playwright and author Ken La Salle collects some of his favorite poems for the first time. Some were taken from the darkest places from his life, like The Slaughterhouse (It is industry that has a reason in a world of others who wish to slaughter, themselves). Others are far more whimsical (Even organ donors have to face a little rejection. Might as well enjoy yourself a little pickle-type confection). Either way, many are accessible and enjoyable for any reader.
In Evertime, my love was lost upon a fallen shore...
and here I wait, awaiting Evertime and Evermore.
In Evertime and Evermore, playwright and author Ken La Salle collects some of his favorite poems for the first time. Some were taken from the darkest places from his life, like The Slaughterhouse (It is industry that has a reason in a world of others who wish to slaughter, themselves). Others are far more whimsical (Even organ donors have to face a little rejection. Might as well enjoy yourself a little pickle-type confection). Either way, many are accessible and enjoyable for any reader.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
What I never realized was just how fast things would change…
I’m sure I’ll use those very same words differently in a different context but, for now, I’m using them for the events of just the past few days.
It seems like the moment Sullivan Maxx signed me to represent my book, Climbing Maya, that was the moment I became a professional writer. It wasn’t when Myth of the Cubicle was produced last year or when I found out that Persecution Complex is being produced this year. It wasn’t when I sold Wormfood Island to Northern Frights Publishing, either, though it probably should have been.
I think things really changed with Climbing Maya because it just got too difficult to deny it any longer! And I was so used to denying it. Hell, I had been raised to deny it. I had been told from childhood that anything artistic should also have a “Plan B”. What happens when you tell someone to have a “Plan B” is that you spend so much time working on “Plan B” that you forget you’re supposed to identify yourself with PLAN A! (I discuss this further on the Ken La Salle blog, so let’s move on…)
While I’ve been spreading the news in my controlled kind of manner (“Look, I got an agent. Cool, huh?”), Vicky’s been spreading the news a bit differently (“Woo hoo! Money time! We’re rich, I tells ya! Riiiicccchhhhh!!!!”). I’ve been trying to caution her against getting her hopes too high.
All the same, though, things have changed. Rather than looking for a full-time job, I’m looking for something part-time, temporary. Who knows what kind of business the digital books will bring in once word on the other two gets out there? And the big desk Vicky just bought me, to replace the dinky desk I still use from 1986-ish, no longer feels like an unnecessary extravagance. I feel like I deserve it, which is a strange feeling for me.
I’m no longer the bum who can’t find a job. I’m the writer waiting for his check…
This is all going to take some getting used to.
It seems like the moment Sullivan Maxx signed me to represent my book, Climbing Maya, that was the moment I became a professional writer. It wasn’t when Myth of the Cubicle was produced last year or when I found out that Persecution Complex is being produced this year. It wasn’t when I sold Wormfood Island to Northern Frights Publishing, either, though it probably should have been.
I think things really changed with Climbing Maya because it just got too difficult to deny it any longer! And I was so used to denying it. Hell, I had been raised to deny it. I had been told from childhood that anything artistic should also have a “Plan B”. What happens when you tell someone to have a “Plan B” is that you spend so much time working on “Plan B” that you forget you’re supposed to identify yourself with PLAN A! (I discuss this further on the Ken La Salle blog, so let’s move on…)
While I’ve been spreading the news in my controlled kind of manner (“Look, I got an agent. Cool, huh?”), Vicky’s been spreading the news a bit differently (“Woo hoo! Money time! We’re rich, I tells ya! Riiiicccchhhhh!!!!”). I’ve been trying to caution her against getting her hopes too high.
All the same, though, things have changed. Rather than looking for a full-time job, I’m looking for something part-time, temporary. Who knows what kind of business the digital books will bring in once word on the other two gets out there? And the big desk Vicky just bought me, to replace the dinky desk I still use from 1986-ish, no longer feels like an unnecessary extravagance. I feel like I deserve it, which is a strange feeling for me.
I’m no longer the bum who can’t find a job. I’m the writer waiting for his check…
This is all going to take some getting used to.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Vampire Society, now available for Kindle and iPad Kindle app...
Today I am happy to announce that my novel, Vampire Society, is now available for your Kindle (or iPad’s Kindle app) for just $5.95. You’ll find the pitch below and I hope you’ll find it soon on your e-reader. (Yes, iBooks and Nook and other formats will also soon be available.) I've included the link to Amazon here. If you know anyone with an iPad or Kindle, please share the news!
Three kids leaving high school are faced with a world they'd hoped never to encounter. "You think you got any chance once you get outta here? You're nothing but grist for the mill, that's what you are! They'll feed off ya! They'll suck out everything you got and leave you dry." With these words, their eyes open to the Vampire Society in which they live.
Vampires live only to feed. Driven by their urges and desires, they are the ultimate consumers. And the Vampire Society is one that puts the Vampire on a pedestal.
Abby Ayrnes, the daughter of migrant workers, grows up knowing the price the vampire society demands. On either side are the angel and devil of the vampire society. Nathan West's admiration and desire drives him to be selfless. But it's Arthur Silvada, taking whatever he wants, who Abby finds she loves.
Vampire Society is a guided tour through the social and political evolution that opened our century. It is a love story and an indictment against our culture, answering the most important question about love: Is real love possible in the Vampire Society?
Three kids leaving high school are faced with a world they'd hoped never to encounter. "You think you got any chance once you get outta here? You're nothing but grist for the mill, that's what you are! They'll feed off ya! They'll suck out everything you got and leave you dry." With these words, their eyes open to the Vampire Society in which they live.
Vampires live only to feed. Driven by their urges and desires, they are the ultimate consumers. And the Vampire Society is one that puts the Vampire on a pedestal.
Abby Ayrnes, the daughter of migrant workers, grows up knowing the price the vampire society demands. On either side are the angel and devil of the vampire society. Nathan West's admiration and desire drives him to be selfless. But it's Arthur Silvada, taking whatever he wants, who Abby finds she loves.
Vampire Society is a guided tour through the social and political evolution that opened our century. It is a love story and an indictment against our culture, answering the most important question about love: Is real love possible in the Vampire Society?
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
The day I gave up and finally accepted my fate…
Yesterday came the culmination of over half a decade of work. More than that, it was just another step in the payoff of over 30 years of work.
Yesterday, I signed a contract with Sullivan Maxx Literary Agency for them to represent my philosophical memoir, Climbing Maya.
And the entire kingdom rejoiced!!!
… then, after a while, Vicky and I got down to some of the business of our new situation. With new books appearing in Kindle, iBooks, Nook, etc. every week and Wormfood Island coming from Northern Frights Publishing this summer, with two theaters seriously considering producing my work this summer and now a literary agency – a good one – representing Climbing Maya… Vicky and I had to admit to ourselves that it looks like I’m going to be a professional writer.
Yes, you heard that right.
The day has come that I’ve been dreaming about most of my life!
… and we had to figure out how that was going to impact my job search. Basically, reality stinks, folks. We still need to pay the bills.
But this writing stuff takes a lot of time. We realized I wasn’t going to be able to manage it if I worked a full-time job. It was at that time that we revised our job search plan down to part-time… maybe.
After all, if my digital books sell even moderately well, the income might be enough so I can devote my time to my writing. If not, well, it’s something part-time for me.
The whole thing seems unreal, to tell you the truth. To think, someone said the words, “Your writing career means you won’t be able to work full-time.” It sounds like a joke, to tell you the truth.
Let’s hope it’s not. Okay?
Yesterday, I signed a contract with Sullivan Maxx Literary Agency for them to represent my philosophical memoir, Climbing Maya.
And the entire kingdom rejoiced!!!
… then, after a while, Vicky and I got down to some of the business of our new situation. With new books appearing in Kindle, iBooks, Nook, etc. every week and Wormfood Island coming from Northern Frights Publishing this summer, with two theaters seriously considering producing my work this summer and now a literary agency – a good one – representing Climbing Maya… Vicky and I had to admit to ourselves that it looks like I’m going to be a professional writer.
Yes, you heard that right.
The day has come that I’ve been dreaming about most of my life!
… and we had to figure out how that was going to impact my job search. Basically, reality stinks, folks. We still need to pay the bills.
But this writing stuff takes a lot of time. We realized I wasn’t going to be able to manage it if I worked a full-time job. It was at that time that we revised our job search plan down to part-time… maybe.
After all, if my digital books sell even moderately well, the income might be enough so I can devote my time to my writing. If not, well, it’s something part-time for me.
The whole thing seems unreal, to tell you the truth. To think, someone said the words, “Your writing career means you won’t be able to work full-time.” It sounds like a joke, to tell you the truth.
Let’s hope it’s not. Okay?
Monday, March 28, 2011
BLUE FOOD and other menu items…
Today I am happy to announce that a collection of my short stories, titled BLUE FOOD and other menu items, is now available for your Kindle (or iPad’s Kindle app) for just $2.99. You’ll find the pitch below and I hope you’ll find it soon on your e-reader. (Yes, iBooks and Nook and other formats will also soon be available.) You'll find the link to Amazon in the list to your right or you can just navigate to it by clicking here!
The works of Ken La Salle range from the bizarre to the whimsical and even further beyond still. In Blue Food and other menu items, Ken La Salle treats you to a dozen tales, hilarious and deeply strange.
You’ll be introduced to Blue Food and find out why it never seemed to catch on in America.
You’ll meet Bigfoot’s Older Brother and find out just what it’s like to set Bigfoot up on a date.
You’ll be learn about how the dead make the best matchmakers, even if they can be a bit unconventional.
You’ll see for yourself just what the Problem With Swings is.
You’ll read about how saving earth might be just the thing for a little girl with Muscular Dystrophy.
You’ll be warned about Bobby’s Brother and his unusual habit.
You’ll know just how to stop an invading horde with the proper use of pizza.
You’ll delve into the mind of a madman whose madness is often served on a cone.
You’ll read from the lost book of Houston with a story about when Jesus met the Soothsayers.
You’ll encounter a strange married couple who would rather stay together if they can avoid killing each other.
You’ll witness a great new game show: What’s My Afterlife!
And you’ll finally find out the secret behind pheromones.
Blue Food and other menu items is a little taste of craziness to lighten the soul – and it’ll only lighten your wallet a tiny bit.
The works of Ken La Salle range from the bizarre to the whimsical and even further beyond still. In Blue Food and other menu items, Ken La Salle treats you to a dozen tales, hilarious and deeply strange.
You’ll be introduced to Blue Food and find out why it never seemed to catch on in America.
You’ll meet Bigfoot’s Older Brother and find out just what it’s like to set Bigfoot up on a date.
You’ll be learn about how the dead make the best matchmakers, even if they can be a bit unconventional.
You’ll see for yourself just what the Problem With Swings is.
You’ll read about how saving earth might be just the thing for a little girl with Muscular Dystrophy.
You’ll be warned about Bobby’s Brother and his unusual habit.
You’ll know just how to stop an invading horde with the proper use of pizza.
You’ll delve into the mind of a madman whose madness is often served on a cone.
You’ll read from the lost book of Houston with a story about when Jesus met the Soothsayers.
You’ll encounter a strange married couple who would rather stay together if they can avoid killing each other.
You’ll witness a great new game show: What’s My Afterlife!
And you’ll finally find out the secret behind pheromones.
Blue Food and other menu items is a little taste of craziness to lighten the soul – and it’ll only lighten your wallet a tiny bit.
Friday, March 25, 2011
The Final Countdown…
Yes, I have that stupid song in my head now… dammit.
Actually, this entry is about something very different. It looks like I am now within weeks of losing my unemployment benefits – they are bone dry – and Vicky and I have started counting down the remaining days.
I find myself in an odd position. Vicky has such a relaxed attitude about things, so positive things will work out, she makes it hard for me to freak out. At the same time, I am Ken. Freaking out is second nature. Let’s say I’m conflicted. Will I find a job in my chosen career? Will I have to work retail or fast food for anything I can get? I don’t know.
The strangest thing about all of this is the timing. We are just months away from the release of Wormfood Island (from Northern Frights Publishing). Other developments are on the way, too. I should start seeing an at least semi-regular income from my writing this year. Maybe that’s why Vicky is so relaxed, because she knows that things are happening even if I have to take a shitty job.
I know I’ve said this before but I wouldn’t trade in this time I’ve had for anything. As much as I hate not having a job – it would be nice to have money – my writing career has taken huge leaps in the last two years. I mean, it looks like it is actually starting, you know? My writing is getting better and I have learned a whole lot more about the business. Would this have happened if I was employed? Perhaps. But I can tell you with all certainty that there is no better inspiration than fear, at least for me. I’ve become incredibly prolific of late and have my eyes firmly affixed to the future.
I don’t know how this will all turn out but I do know that the next phase begins in just a few weeks. Keep your eyes on this space. Things will change.
Actually, this entry is about something very different. It looks like I am now within weeks of losing my unemployment benefits – they are bone dry – and Vicky and I have started counting down the remaining days.
I find myself in an odd position. Vicky has such a relaxed attitude about things, so positive things will work out, she makes it hard for me to freak out. At the same time, I am Ken. Freaking out is second nature. Let’s say I’m conflicted. Will I find a job in my chosen career? Will I have to work retail or fast food for anything I can get? I don’t know.
The strangest thing about all of this is the timing. We are just months away from the release of Wormfood Island (from Northern Frights Publishing). Other developments are on the way, too. I should start seeing an at least semi-regular income from my writing this year. Maybe that’s why Vicky is so relaxed, because she knows that things are happening even if I have to take a shitty job.
I know I’ve said this before but I wouldn’t trade in this time I’ve had for anything. As much as I hate not having a job – it would be nice to have money – my writing career has taken huge leaps in the last two years. I mean, it looks like it is actually starting, you know? My writing is getting better and I have learned a whole lot more about the business. Would this have happened if I was employed? Perhaps. But I can tell you with all certainty that there is no better inspiration than fear, at least for me. I’ve become incredibly prolific of late and have my eyes firmly affixed to the future.
I don’t know how this will all turn out but I do know that the next phase begins in just a few weeks. Keep your eyes on this space. Things will change.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Alive Theatre – Vicky…
Last night was the reading of Sometimes We Find Our Way at the Alive Theatre in Long Beach. For a full run-down on what I thought artistically, check out the Ken La Salle blog. In this space, however, I would like to talk about something (or, actually, someone) also essential: Vicky.
Vicky has always been a tremendous source of support. I couldn’t begin to tell you because it just extends in so many directions. She’s my proofreader, my cheerleader, and also very literally my financial backer. I couldn’t dream of someone more behind me in my artistic endeavors than Vicky.
But to give you some idea, let’s go to last night’s reading.
The workspace for Alive Theatre is located on 3rd Street in a little garage set way back off the street. It is not only difficult to find, it is also difficult to believe you’ve reached the right spot once you’re there. With this in mind, I did not wait inside with Vicky but waited outside on the cold street, where I could flag people down or greet them as they arrived.
Vicky, meanwhile, was greeting people inside, making them feel welcome, engaging them and helping pass the time while we awaited others. In this way, I began to think of Vicky as something like my first lady last night. She really was like my third arm, taking care of things when they slipped out of my grasp.
She also had a far better attitude about it than I did. When I asked her to guess how many people would show, she said a dozen in the audience alone. I guessed ten, counting the actors. It turned out we had an audience of 19, which was the best the theater had seen for all the plays they were considering!
Vicky saw to it that the actors had water if they needed it – I did. She also put together little gift bags for the two actresses working at my side. None of that would have happened if left up to me; I was too busy trying to make it work artistically, which is to say I was out to lunch.
I have often said how lucky I am to have Vicky in my life and working with me as a partner in my artistic endeavors. After a night like last night, I just wanted to share exactly what I mean by that.
Thanks, Vic.
Vicky has always been a tremendous source of support. I couldn’t begin to tell you because it just extends in so many directions. She’s my proofreader, my cheerleader, and also very literally my financial backer. I couldn’t dream of someone more behind me in my artistic endeavors than Vicky.
But to give you some idea, let’s go to last night’s reading.
The workspace for Alive Theatre is located on 3rd Street in a little garage set way back off the street. It is not only difficult to find, it is also difficult to believe you’ve reached the right spot once you’re there. With this in mind, I did not wait inside with Vicky but waited outside on the cold street, where I could flag people down or greet them as they arrived.
Vicky, meanwhile, was greeting people inside, making them feel welcome, engaging them and helping pass the time while we awaited others. In this way, I began to think of Vicky as something like my first lady last night. She really was like my third arm, taking care of things when they slipped out of my grasp.
She also had a far better attitude about it than I did. When I asked her to guess how many people would show, she said a dozen in the audience alone. I guessed ten, counting the actors. It turned out we had an audience of 19, which was the best the theater had seen for all the plays they were considering!
Vicky saw to it that the actors had water if they needed it – I did. She also put together little gift bags for the two actresses working at my side. None of that would have happened if left up to me; I was too busy trying to make it work artistically, which is to say I was out to lunch.
I have often said how lucky I am to have Vicky in my life and working with me as a partner in my artistic endeavors. After a night like last night, I just wanted to share exactly what I mean by that.
Thanks, Vic.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
So, this is what happens…
As many of you know, I love Vicky.
Oh, I love her, love her, love her… but enough of that.
You’re probably wondering why I was up at 6am this fine, Saturday morning… well, I am.
Vicky set her alarm to go off at 6am and, sure enough, it did. And she hit the snooze bar and went back to sleep. I didn’t go back to sleep… but she did.
I lay awake, hoping to drop back off to sleep when the alarm went off again at 6:15am. She hit the snooze bar and went back to sleep.
This happens every morning.
I am a chronic early-riser thanks to my wife’s alarm clock. Too bad she isn’t as well. She’ll hit the snooze bar until 7:30am, sometimes 8am…
I can’t help but think this is somehow payback for something…
Oh, I love her, love her, love her… but enough of that.
You’re probably wondering why I was up at 6am this fine, Saturday morning… well, I am.
Vicky set her alarm to go off at 6am and, sure enough, it did. And she hit the snooze bar and went back to sleep. I didn’t go back to sleep… but she did.
I lay awake, hoping to drop back off to sleep when the alarm went off again at 6:15am. She hit the snooze bar and went back to sleep.
This happens every morning.
I am a chronic early-riser thanks to my wife’s alarm clock. Too bad she isn’t as well. She’ll hit the snooze bar until 7:30am, sometimes 8am…
I can’t help but think this is somehow payback for something…
Thursday, March 17, 2011
The only reason unemployed people look for work…
I’ve got a lot going on these days with the readings and the writing (and I’m sure there’s bound to be some ‘rithmatic in there somewhere) but today I thought I’d focus on something that happened at a job interview I was at recently.
We were going over my resume and the woman said, “I see you’ve been doing some temp work? Some contract work? Trying to keep busy? To keep the skills in shape?”
Yes, that’s why I was working temp and contract jobs. To keep busy. Because I was so bored. It had nothing to do with paying my bills or having food to eat, you stupid bitch.
Of course, I smiled and nodded like they expect you to – because, at this point, I’ll endure any indignity if there’s a paycheck in it. But the idea that this woman’s worldview was so myopic as to think that unemployed people look for work simply out of boredom, for something to do, is so disturbing I just don’t know what to think.
Is this why stupid people so often think of the unemployed as lazy? Rather than hungry? We have plenty of incentives to work, believe me. We like the roof over our heads and would like to keep it there. Honest.
Oh… and the welfare mom down the street is not driving a BMW, either. (Just thought I’d get that out of the way while I was here…)
We were going over my resume and the woman said, “I see you’ve been doing some temp work? Some contract work? Trying to keep busy? To keep the skills in shape?”
Yes, that’s why I was working temp and contract jobs. To keep busy. Because I was so bored. It had nothing to do with paying my bills or having food to eat, you stupid bitch.
Of course, I smiled and nodded like they expect you to – because, at this point, I’ll endure any indignity if there’s a paycheck in it. But the idea that this woman’s worldview was so myopic as to think that unemployed people look for work simply out of boredom, for something to do, is so disturbing I just don’t know what to think.
Is this why stupid people so often think of the unemployed as lazy? Rather than hungry? We have plenty of incentives to work, believe me. We like the roof over our heads and would like to keep it there. Honest.
Oh… and the welfare mom down the street is not driving a BMW, either. (Just thought I’d get that out of the way while I was here…)
Sunday, March 13, 2011
My child has allergies…
I was just thinking about something I’ve heard just about enough of: “My child has allergies.”
“Can you make sure there’s no dairy in that? My child has allergies.”
“I can’t get the one with almonds. My child has allergies.”
“Can you make sure there are no peanut parts, peanut scrapings, peanut essence – Can you make sure there was no peanut in the state where this was made? My child has allergies.”
When I was a child, none of this would have been tolerated. Children would have died by the thousands – and often did! “You eat what you’re given and that’s it. I don’t care how it makes you not be able to breath!”
Listen, my own mother wouldn’t get me glasses as a child because she wanted me to be tough. “I don’t care if you’re blind. There are starving children in Africa who would be happy to have the eyes you have.”
Now that I think of it, is that why we never hear about the starving children in Africa? Because all of the food children can’t eat because of allergies is going over there?
“Can you make sure there’s no dairy in that? My child has allergies.”
“I can’t get the one with almonds. My child has allergies.”
“Can you make sure there are no peanut parts, peanut scrapings, peanut essence – Can you make sure there was no peanut in the state where this was made? My child has allergies.”
When I was a child, none of this would have been tolerated. Children would have died by the thousands – and often did! “You eat what you’re given and that’s it. I don’t care how it makes you not be able to breath!”
Listen, my own mother wouldn’t get me glasses as a child because she wanted me to be tough. “I don’t care if you’re blind. There are starving children in Africa who would be happy to have the eyes you have.”
Now that I think of it, is that why we never hear about the starving children in Africa? Because all of the food children can’t eat because of allergies is going over there?
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Weeks without Vicky…
Vicky wraps up her teaching gig this week. She’s been teaching for five weeks straight, every night after her day job. (Yes, I know I’m unemployed and a louse by default – let’s move on.) I’m sure she’s exhausted, no matter how much she loves it – but enough of her. I wanted to talk about me… you know, again.
Five and a half years after we were married and I never cease being surprised by it all. Let me say something here that I’ve been fairly public about and that Vicky and I both understand: Vicky was not the love of my life when we got married. When I married Vicky, I was happy to have found someone I could live with and work with – after my last marriage, I didn’t need another “love of my life”. They were just trouble.
Little did I realize that, with time, I find myself more in love with her than I ever thought possible. Nobody – and I mean nobody – holds a candle to her. She’s funny. She’s smart. And I find myself needing her, craving her. She has honestly become essential to my existence. Yes, I’ll admit it. She has become the love of my life, undeniably.
And did I mention she’s been away for five weeks?
It’s driving me crazy.
But I am buoyed by the knowledge of how well we work together, how nicely our partnership functions. There’s no doubt in my mind that Vicky does everything she does so that I can do everything I do. She makes my lifestyle possible – not just in the little ways but she literally makes it possible for me to be the person I am. I couldn’t pursue my writing as I do without her. Working on both plays and books, I know she’s got my back 100% and that gives me a wonderful sense of security.
So, while I miss her, I am not worried in any way. I know she’ll be back and our lives will settle into a new schedule until it changes again, as it always does. Our lives are constantly in motion, it seems, but we handle it all pretty well as a couple, as a team.
These weeks without Vicky have got me thinking about this and about how very lucky I’ve been. I couldn’t tell you if she’s been lucky at all but I know I have. And I can’t wait for this weekend to be over so I can tell her that to her face.
(NOTE: This is not to say that Vicky can’t be a complete bitch. She can and often is. If I didn’t say this, I know she’d read this blog entry thinking she was pretty bitchen. Okay, Vic. You’re bitchen. I’ll admit that. But behave yourself and don’t get too arrogant… Now, come over here and give me some sugar.)
Five and a half years after we were married and I never cease being surprised by it all. Let me say something here that I’ve been fairly public about and that Vicky and I both understand: Vicky was not the love of my life when we got married. When I married Vicky, I was happy to have found someone I could live with and work with – after my last marriage, I didn’t need another “love of my life”. They were just trouble.
Little did I realize that, with time, I find myself more in love with her than I ever thought possible. Nobody – and I mean nobody – holds a candle to her. She’s funny. She’s smart. And I find myself needing her, craving her. She has honestly become essential to my existence. Yes, I’ll admit it. She has become the love of my life, undeniably.
And did I mention she’s been away for five weeks?
It’s driving me crazy.
But I am buoyed by the knowledge of how well we work together, how nicely our partnership functions. There’s no doubt in my mind that Vicky does everything she does so that I can do everything I do. She makes my lifestyle possible – not just in the little ways but she literally makes it possible for me to be the person I am. I couldn’t pursue my writing as I do without her. Working on both plays and books, I know she’s got my back 100% and that gives me a wonderful sense of security.
So, while I miss her, I am not worried in any way. I know she’ll be back and our lives will settle into a new schedule until it changes again, as it always does. Our lives are constantly in motion, it seems, but we handle it all pretty well as a couple, as a team.
These weeks without Vicky have got me thinking about this and about how very lucky I’ve been. I couldn’t tell you if she’s been lucky at all but I know I have. And I can’t wait for this weekend to be over so I can tell her that to her face.
(NOTE: This is not to say that Vicky can’t be a complete bitch. She can and often is. If I didn’t say this, I know she’d read this blog entry thinking she was pretty bitchen. Okay, Vic. You’re bitchen. I’ll admit that. But behave yourself and don’t get too arrogant… Now, come over here and give me some sugar.)
Saturday, March 05, 2011
Defending Everyone's Marriage Rights...
There’s been a lot of talk in the news lately about the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA). DOMA is support to “defend” marriage by making it illegal for many United States citizens from marrying. To be specific, it prevents gay people from marrying other gay people (unless they are a gay man and woman, which would be fine if unfathomable).
As a straight, married man, as a man who has all the rights DOMA specifically takes away from my gay brothers and sisters, I feel it about time I spoke out.
It seems to me that this restriction of rights is very familiar. The United States used to restrict the rights of a different group of Americans and it did it all very legally. Those, of course, we black Americans who were restricted from having equal rights to vote, drink from a water fountain, ride wherever they liked on a bus, and so many other things. Whites back then had the attitude of “I’ve got my rights. You’ll have to fend for yourself,” and those were the least malicious of them. This “I’ve got mine” attitude is not unique to Americans; we’re just really good at it.
And so, here we are doing it again, restricting the rights of a certain group of Americans under the thin veil of legality. This time, we’re doing it to gay Americans. Straight people might as well be saying, “It’s legal for me to marry. You’ll just have to fend for yourself.”
The fact that this has not been seen as a national disgrace is appalling. The fact that pro-gay rights people have not attacked this with the same fervor that they attacked Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell is just wrong. (Especially when you consider that the repeal of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell only increases a LGBT individual’s chances of dying in war, hardly a perk.) The support of equal marriage rights shouldn’t be seen as a gay/straight issue. My marriage rights are just as endangered when the rights of someone else are restricted.
Defense of Marriage? The only way marriage can ever be defended is when it is the right of all Americans. The so-called “political right” call it a “slippery slope” when all are afforded the same rights. They used a similar argument with regards to voting rights. But I say it’s a slippery slope when all Americans do not have equal rights. Who would they restrict next? The so-called “political right” talk about having to allow anyone to marry if they allow gays to marry and I say that argument has been absurd on the face of it since the beginning. It is indefensible and should never be allowed to stand. Allowing black Americans the right to vote did not turn into the disaster they said it would and neither will allowing all Americans equal marriage rights.
What all Americans have to realize is that the only way to defend your rights is to defend everyone’s rights. Otherwise, what’s the virtue of calling yourself American?
As a straight, married man, as a man who has all the rights DOMA specifically takes away from my gay brothers and sisters, I feel it about time I spoke out.
It seems to me that this restriction of rights is very familiar. The United States used to restrict the rights of a different group of Americans and it did it all very legally. Those, of course, we black Americans who were restricted from having equal rights to vote, drink from a water fountain, ride wherever they liked on a bus, and so many other things. Whites back then had the attitude of “I’ve got my rights. You’ll have to fend for yourself,” and those were the least malicious of them. This “I’ve got mine” attitude is not unique to Americans; we’re just really good at it.
And so, here we are doing it again, restricting the rights of a certain group of Americans under the thin veil of legality. This time, we’re doing it to gay Americans. Straight people might as well be saying, “It’s legal for me to marry. You’ll just have to fend for yourself.”
The fact that this has not been seen as a national disgrace is appalling. The fact that pro-gay rights people have not attacked this with the same fervor that they attacked Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell is just wrong. (Especially when you consider that the repeal of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell only increases a LGBT individual’s chances of dying in war, hardly a perk.) The support of equal marriage rights shouldn’t be seen as a gay/straight issue. My marriage rights are just as endangered when the rights of someone else are restricted.
Defense of Marriage? The only way marriage can ever be defended is when it is the right of all Americans. The so-called “political right” call it a “slippery slope” when all are afforded the same rights. They used a similar argument with regards to voting rights. But I say it’s a slippery slope when all Americans do not have equal rights. Who would they restrict next? The so-called “political right” talk about having to allow anyone to marry if they allow gays to marry and I say that argument has been absurd on the face of it since the beginning. It is indefensible and should never be allowed to stand. Allowing black Americans the right to vote did not turn into the disaster they said it would and neither will allowing all Americans equal marriage rights.
What all Americans have to realize is that the only way to defend your rights is to defend everyone’s rights. Otherwise, what’s the virtue of calling yourself American?
Thursday, March 03, 2011
Cycling without a bike…
This story begins, as so many do, last week.
I was out riding my Giant TCR2, having a really good morning ride. I was doing 16-18 mph pretty consistently and feeling pretty good when I realized something was catching on the pedal. For a while, I thought it was my foot catching on the bike frame – my feet are huge – but, looking down, I saw that wasn’t it.
For some reason, my left pedal and crank assembly was catching and my experience cycling told me that wasn’t good. I don’t have a lot of experience cycling but I do have enough to know about blowing out bottom brackets… mostly because I’ve blown out a couple of bottom brackets. You blow out your bottom bracket by riding your bike long after your bottom bracket starts to go, and it felt like my bottom bracket was starting to go.
I did the sensible thing and stopped. Sure enough, my left crank was getting wobbly. This time, instead of riding on it, I would do the smart thing and head back home. I went home and got my bike in the shop, hoping everything would be fine.
They were supposed to be finished with the bike on Tuesday, so I gave them a call yesterday to follow up since they hadn’t called me, yet. (Are all cycle shops horrible about calling when something is done? This is the second shop I’ve used regularly and they’re both like that!) Turned out, my bike wasn’t done… in fact, it wasn’t begun.
I hadn’t blown the bottom bracket this time. I had blown the entire crank assembly!
And this is where I beat myself up for being a lame-ass. (Not to mention a fat ass, which is the only way I can think that I broke that assembly!)
When I told Vicky, she reminded me of something I’d forgotten. I had put a couple thousand miles on my bike last year. Of course, things were going to break! This is what’s called “up-keep”! If it wasn’t for Vicky, I would probably still be beating myself up.
So, now the bike is getting back in shape for another year of cycling. In previous years, I didn’t start until later in April. This year, I’ve already begun. I’m shooting for 3,000 miles this year. I don’t know how close I’ll get but it’ll be fun trying. (Of course, it also depends on my work schedule… once I get a work schedule…) And I’ll keep going right away… once I get my bike back…
I was out riding my Giant TCR2, having a really good morning ride. I was doing 16-18 mph pretty consistently and feeling pretty good when I realized something was catching on the pedal. For a while, I thought it was my foot catching on the bike frame – my feet are huge – but, looking down, I saw that wasn’t it.
For some reason, my left pedal and crank assembly was catching and my experience cycling told me that wasn’t good. I don’t have a lot of experience cycling but I do have enough to know about blowing out bottom brackets… mostly because I’ve blown out a couple of bottom brackets. You blow out your bottom bracket by riding your bike long after your bottom bracket starts to go, and it felt like my bottom bracket was starting to go.
I did the sensible thing and stopped. Sure enough, my left crank was getting wobbly. This time, instead of riding on it, I would do the smart thing and head back home. I went home and got my bike in the shop, hoping everything would be fine.
They were supposed to be finished with the bike on Tuesday, so I gave them a call yesterday to follow up since they hadn’t called me, yet. (Are all cycle shops horrible about calling when something is done? This is the second shop I’ve used regularly and they’re both like that!) Turned out, my bike wasn’t done… in fact, it wasn’t begun.
I hadn’t blown the bottom bracket this time. I had blown the entire crank assembly!
And this is where I beat myself up for being a lame-ass. (Not to mention a fat ass, which is the only way I can think that I broke that assembly!)
When I told Vicky, she reminded me of something I’d forgotten. I had put a couple thousand miles on my bike last year. Of course, things were going to break! This is what’s called “up-keep”! If it wasn’t for Vicky, I would probably still be beating myself up.
So, now the bike is getting back in shape for another year of cycling. In previous years, I didn’t start until later in April. This year, I’ve already begun. I’m shooting for 3,000 miles this year. I don’t know how close I’ll get but it’ll be fun trying. (Of course, it also depends on my work schedule… once I get a work schedule…) And I’ll keep going right away… once I get my bike back…
Tuesday, March 01, 2011
We’ve got a fun couple of months coming…
(You may see this all over the place – or wherever I can post it. It’s important.)
March marks the beginning of a busy few months for my artistic growth and only a short lead-in to what will be a busier summer, I’m sure. Now, I know I’m blessed with quite a few people in my life who are looking to support my endeavors so let me spell it all out here so we know where we’re at.
March 21st. Monday evening, March 21st at 8pm, Alive Theatre in Long Beach will be considering my play, Sometimes We Find Our Way, for their 2012 season. The way this works is they’ll be holding a reading before an audience. They’ll be doing this for each show they’re considering and my show will be read that night. The cast will include the wonderful Stephanie Schulz, the incomparable Sonja Berggren, and myself in an inexcusable act of ego. My guess is that the best crowd stands the best chance.
I’m hoping you can be there to help me. The reading will be located at what the theater calls "The Farm". I won’t lie; it’s more on a “theater annex”. It’s a little hard to find off the street and parking is kind of a bitch (let's hear it for Long Beach street parking). But the theater is encouraging writers to bring an audience and if I could get a full-length produced that would certainly help me out quite a bit.
April 22 – May 21. Theatre of NOTE will be producing my short play, Persecution Complex, as part of their “Just the Tip” late night showcase. Persecution Complex is an insane look at relationships and neurosis and mobsters, oddly enough.
Of course, I’d love if you could go… but, and this is important, if you feel as though you need to choose between the two shows, I’d rather you go see Sometimes We Find Our Way. That is a full-length show up for consideration for a full production and that’s where I need the support. Mind you, if you can go to both, I would just love that. Heck, I certainly plan to go to both. But if you need to choose, I just wanted to let you know which way I hope you choose.
I’m including bit of information below to help you out.
This is Alive Theatre’s web site. This is their calendar. Look me up on March 21.
This is a map to their location. Actually, it’s a street-view as well, to give you an idea what it looks like. (Don’t be scared. There’s a theater in there. I’ll probably be waiting outside until the show starts to wave you in.)
And here’s the web site for Theatre of NOTE.
Thanks to all my incredible supporters through this crazy time. You’re all the best.
March marks the beginning of a busy few months for my artistic growth and only a short lead-in to what will be a busier summer, I’m sure. Now, I know I’m blessed with quite a few people in my life who are looking to support my endeavors so let me spell it all out here so we know where we’re at.
March 21st. Monday evening, March 21st at 8pm, Alive Theatre in Long Beach will be considering my play, Sometimes We Find Our Way, for their 2012 season. The way this works is they’ll be holding a reading before an audience. They’ll be doing this for each show they’re considering and my show will be read that night. The cast will include the wonderful Stephanie Schulz, the incomparable Sonja Berggren, and myself in an inexcusable act of ego. My guess is that the best crowd stands the best chance.
I’m hoping you can be there to help me. The reading will be located at what the theater calls "The Farm". I won’t lie; it’s more on a “theater annex”. It’s a little hard to find off the street and parking is kind of a bitch (let's hear it for Long Beach street parking). But the theater is encouraging writers to bring an audience and if I could get a full-length produced that would certainly help me out quite a bit.
April 22 – May 21. Theatre of NOTE will be producing my short play, Persecution Complex, as part of their “Just the Tip” late night showcase. Persecution Complex is an insane look at relationships and neurosis and mobsters, oddly enough.
Of course, I’d love if you could go… but, and this is important, if you feel as though you need to choose between the two shows, I’d rather you go see Sometimes We Find Our Way. That is a full-length show up for consideration for a full production and that’s where I need the support. Mind you, if you can go to both, I would just love that. Heck, I certainly plan to go to both. But if you need to choose, I just wanted to let you know which way I hope you choose.
I’m including bit of information below to help you out.
This is Alive Theatre’s web site. This is their calendar. Look me up on March 21.
This is a map to their location. Actually, it’s a street-view as well, to give you an idea what it looks like. (Don’t be scared. There’s a theater in there. I’ll probably be waiting outside until the show starts to wave you in.)
And here’s the web site for Theatre of NOTE.
Thanks to all my incredible supporters through this crazy time. You’re all the best.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
The trouble with bottom brackets…
Time plays weird tricks. For example, when I think of my last cigarette, it feels like a long time ago. When I think of when I first started cycling, it feels like yesterday. And yet, I was still sneaking smokes when I started cycling… so that’s slightly askew.
I’ve been cycling now since 2007. That’s four years of riding. Every year, I get a little smarter, a little faster, a little better. That’s not too difficult because I started out really horribly. I mean, I sucked.
One thing has remained consistent, however, and that is my relationship with bottom brackets. Bottom Brackets are the part of your bike just between where the pedal’s cranks meet. They keep your pedals going so you can move. They’re supposed to be fairly stable. They’re not supposed to move around a whole lot.
I learned this with my first bike (as an adult). It was a converted mountain bike – basically, a mountain bike with road tires on it. I was riding for quite some time until the bottom bracket was so blown that the pedals were practically flapping like wings. No bueno! The guy at the bike shop actually lectured me.
After that, I got a little experience and got a little smarter. Riding my Giant road bike, I blew another bottom bracket but I noticed before the pedals started flapping. Still, I did plenty of damage before I brought it in to get fixed.
I don’t know what it is about me and bottom brackets. I just tear through them.
Today, for instance, as I was out on my morning ride, I realized that the pedals had a certain amount of give that they shouldn’t have had, a bit of play that told me, “Ken, you’re doing it again.” Rather than ignore it, I actually stopped and checked it out. Sure enough, the bottom bracket was going out. This time, though, I decided to do the smart thing… or, at least, the smartest thing I could do under the circumstances. I rode the bike straight home. I’ll take it into the shop this weekend and hope I caught it early enough to prevent anything too costly.
I don’t know if other cyclists have these issues. Maybe I’m just too hard on my bike. But I’m learning. I can say that. Maybe, by the time I’m 60, I’ll be smart enough to not bust the damned things in the first place…
I’ve been cycling now since 2007. That’s four years of riding. Every year, I get a little smarter, a little faster, a little better. That’s not too difficult because I started out really horribly. I mean, I sucked.
One thing has remained consistent, however, and that is my relationship with bottom brackets. Bottom Brackets are the part of your bike just between where the pedal’s cranks meet. They keep your pedals going so you can move. They’re supposed to be fairly stable. They’re not supposed to move around a whole lot.
I learned this with my first bike (as an adult). It was a converted mountain bike – basically, a mountain bike with road tires on it. I was riding for quite some time until the bottom bracket was so blown that the pedals were practically flapping like wings. No bueno! The guy at the bike shop actually lectured me.
After that, I got a little experience and got a little smarter. Riding my Giant road bike, I blew another bottom bracket but I noticed before the pedals started flapping. Still, I did plenty of damage before I brought it in to get fixed.
I don’t know what it is about me and bottom brackets. I just tear through them.
Today, for instance, as I was out on my morning ride, I realized that the pedals had a certain amount of give that they shouldn’t have had, a bit of play that told me, “Ken, you’re doing it again.” Rather than ignore it, I actually stopped and checked it out. Sure enough, the bottom bracket was going out. This time, though, I decided to do the smart thing… or, at least, the smartest thing I could do under the circumstances. I rode the bike straight home. I’ll take it into the shop this weekend and hope I caught it early enough to prevent anything too costly.
I don’t know if other cyclists have these issues. Maybe I’m just too hard on my bike. But I’m learning. I can say that. Maybe, by the time I’m 60, I’ll be smart enough to not bust the damned things in the first place…
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Dilemma…
I had a job interview today that, to be honest, could have gone better.
To start, it didn’t. The guy I was supposed to interview with kept asking me to wait in the lobby. We didn’t get moving until about 15 minutes after the appointment time.
Next, he was far from prepared. I got the impression he was lucky to have my resume, though it looked pretty banged up. I gave him a fresh resume and some other materials as well, which I hope helps in the end.
Worst, though, was the age old dilemma I’ve faced so many times. This interview was for a marketing coordinator position, which I am very qualified for. That said, I’ve also worked as a writer for many years as well. The dilemma, you see, is that some folks can’t understand that you can do both.
So, the interview began. “I see you just did some technical writing.”
“Yes, it was a contract position, which has since ended. Now, I’m excited about this marketing coordinator position.”
“Why don’t you just stick with tech writing?” he asked.
I could go on but it would be redundant. Some folks just can’t wrap their heads around a person who can do more than one thing.
In the end, it didn’t turn out well. Even after I pointed out areas I could help in where they were sadly lacking, this guy couldn’t understand that I can do more than technical writing.
It appears I’m still in the job market.
To start, it didn’t. The guy I was supposed to interview with kept asking me to wait in the lobby. We didn’t get moving until about 15 minutes after the appointment time.
Next, he was far from prepared. I got the impression he was lucky to have my resume, though it looked pretty banged up. I gave him a fresh resume and some other materials as well, which I hope helps in the end.
Worst, though, was the age old dilemma I’ve faced so many times. This interview was for a marketing coordinator position, which I am very qualified for. That said, I’ve also worked as a writer for many years as well. The dilemma, you see, is that some folks can’t understand that you can do both.
So, the interview began. “I see you just did some technical writing.”
“Yes, it was a contract position, which has since ended. Now, I’m excited about this marketing coordinator position.”
“Why don’t you just stick with tech writing?” he asked.
I could go on but it would be redundant. Some folks just can’t wrap their heads around a person who can do more than one thing.
In the end, it didn’t turn out well. Even after I pointed out areas I could help in where they were sadly lacking, this guy couldn’t understand that I can do more than technical writing.
It appears I’m still in the job market.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
The Simple Things…
- Watching the Daytona 500 (I’m rooting for Juan Pablo. Vicky is firmly in Team Gordon.)
- A fresh, hot pot of coffee
- Leftover pizza
- Maybe hitting Del Taco for some cheap grub.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
This is what I love…
I found myself in San Francisco this weekend caught completely by surprise at having the best time of my life. It really snuck up on me. There I was, surrounded by beautiful women (Vicky), fellow writers who wanted to know what I thought, actors who admired my work, great food, funny conversation… It was simply amazing.
Then, I came home.
And I realize that real life never stops. I realize that this wonderful ride has to end at some point. I do.
In fact, let me drip a little more reality in before getting back to the wonderfulness so you know I’m not completely full of shit. I have only a few more unemployment checks remaining. In the past five months, I’ve applied for over 70 jobs – 70 that I’ve kept track of – with no response. Zero. Not a phone call. Nothing. For some reason I do not know, my career as a marketing professional appears to have come completely full stop. I will very soon have to take anything I can get: Costco, Target, whatever. I’ll have to do it or lose my home. I know that.
On top of that, my last book (Sleepwalker) received nothing but yawns and disgust from all the agencies and publishers I sent it to. Things are not looking great for me as a novelist.
So, why the hell am I so upbeat?
You know what they say: There’s no talking to an idiot.
No. Wait. That should be: Hope springs eternal.
I just finished my new mystery novel, Once Removed. Not only is it a lot of fun, it is a more sophisticated blend of romance and mystery and family drama. It takes my books to the next level. The next book I write will be another horror novel, my third. Hell, I never thought I’d write my first! The concept, which I won’t get into now, is far above a lot of stuff I see out there. It is really good – and I’m not really a fan of my own horror writing to begin with and I’m saying that. It will take me to that next level.
I’m getting better. I can feel it. Maybe it’s because I just spent a weekend in San Francisco with people who admire my work; I don’t know. It could also be the fact that I now spend an enormous amount of my time writing. You know, like a writer.
Check this out. I just finished the first draft of Once Removed in just over a month. Tomorrow, I’ll start working on my next play. Next week, when I finish the play, I’ll go back and work on rewriting and polishing Once Removed so it’s ready to submit to agencies and publishers. Then, I’ll do the same to the play. Then, I’ll start the next book. This will all happen before April!
That kind of schedule would have been unthinkable for me as recently as two years ago. I am now living and thinking – functioning – as a writer. And, yes, it will all be snatched out of my hands when my unemployment benefits run out in April.
It sucks.
That said, I want to get as much out of it as I can. Yes, this year, I want to write two more books. I also want to write a sequel to Wormfood Island when it comes out. I want Wormfood Island to sell well enough to justify a sequel. I have four more plays in my mind, ready to spring forth. I can do all this this year, easily, if I get the opportunity.
I am looking for that opportunity. I am looking for part-time writing jobs, temp writing jobs, contract writing jobs – hell, I’ll take all kinds of part-time jobs if they give me the opportunity to write.
I am ready to take that next step in my life.
Next month, I have a play being considered for full production in the 2012 season of an LA theater. In April, I have a short play being produced in Hollywood. This sounds like a dream and it kind of is. Sadly, it is not yet the kind of dream that makes money.
And it all comes down to money.
…
This weekend, when asked how I kept up this momentum of mine at the age of 45, I replied, “It doesn’t take any talent or skill. All it takes is blind stupidity. Think of any other job out there and imagine pursuing it for 25 years. Now, imagine someone saying that if you just got a little better they’d pay you. It wouldn’t happen. And yet, here I am.”
I got a bit of a laugh and, to some degree, I believe that.
But, you know, what I didn’t admit was the incredible love I have for what I do, the amazing thrill that comes when I finish a project, get an audience to laugh or to cry, create a book someone just can’t put down. It is an unbelievable experience and I feel fortunate to simply have made it this far.
Now, I want to go just a little farther.
(Yes, I know I'm posting this on both of my blogs but it's one of those things that really transcends both subject matters. This is my life and my love and my path - and it's Vicky's too. Vicky is an enormous part of it. Nothing makes me happer than seeing this through her eyes. I am very lucky.)
Then, I came home.
And I realize that real life never stops. I realize that this wonderful ride has to end at some point. I do.
In fact, let me drip a little more reality in before getting back to the wonderfulness so you know I’m not completely full of shit. I have only a few more unemployment checks remaining. In the past five months, I’ve applied for over 70 jobs – 70 that I’ve kept track of – with no response. Zero. Not a phone call. Nothing. For some reason I do not know, my career as a marketing professional appears to have come completely full stop. I will very soon have to take anything I can get: Costco, Target, whatever. I’ll have to do it or lose my home. I know that.
On top of that, my last book (Sleepwalker) received nothing but yawns and disgust from all the agencies and publishers I sent it to. Things are not looking great for me as a novelist.
So, why the hell am I so upbeat?
You know what they say: There’s no talking to an idiot.
No. Wait. That should be: Hope springs eternal.
I just finished my new mystery novel, Once Removed. Not only is it a lot of fun, it is a more sophisticated blend of romance and mystery and family drama. It takes my books to the next level. The next book I write will be another horror novel, my third. Hell, I never thought I’d write my first! The concept, which I won’t get into now, is far above a lot of stuff I see out there. It is really good – and I’m not really a fan of my own horror writing to begin with and I’m saying that. It will take me to that next level.
I’m getting better. I can feel it. Maybe it’s because I just spent a weekend in San Francisco with people who admire my work; I don’t know. It could also be the fact that I now spend an enormous amount of my time writing. You know, like a writer.
Check this out. I just finished the first draft of Once Removed in just over a month. Tomorrow, I’ll start working on my next play. Next week, when I finish the play, I’ll go back and work on rewriting and polishing Once Removed so it’s ready to submit to agencies and publishers. Then, I’ll do the same to the play. Then, I’ll start the next book. This will all happen before April!
That kind of schedule would have been unthinkable for me as recently as two years ago. I am now living and thinking – functioning – as a writer. And, yes, it will all be snatched out of my hands when my unemployment benefits run out in April.
It sucks.
That said, I want to get as much out of it as I can. Yes, this year, I want to write two more books. I also want to write a sequel to Wormfood Island when it comes out. I want Wormfood Island to sell well enough to justify a sequel. I have four more plays in my mind, ready to spring forth. I can do all this this year, easily, if I get the opportunity.
I am looking for that opportunity. I am looking for part-time writing jobs, temp writing jobs, contract writing jobs – hell, I’ll take all kinds of part-time jobs if they give me the opportunity to write.
I am ready to take that next step in my life.
Next month, I have a play being considered for full production in the 2012 season of an LA theater. In April, I have a short play being produced in Hollywood. This sounds like a dream and it kind of is. Sadly, it is not yet the kind of dream that makes money.
And it all comes down to money.
…
This weekend, when asked how I kept up this momentum of mine at the age of 45, I replied, “It doesn’t take any talent or skill. All it takes is blind stupidity. Think of any other job out there and imagine pursuing it for 25 years. Now, imagine someone saying that if you just got a little better they’d pay you. It wouldn’t happen. And yet, here I am.”
I got a bit of a laugh and, to some degree, I believe that.
But, you know, what I didn’t admit was the incredible love I have for what I do, the amazing thrill that comes when I finish a project, get an audience to laugh or to cry, create a book someone just can’t put down. It is an unbelievable experience and I feel fortunate to simply have made it this far.
Now, I want to go just a little farther.
(Yes, I know I'm posting this on both of my blogs but it's one of those things that really transcends both subject matters. This is my life and my love and my path - and it's Vicky's too. Vicky is an enormous part of it. Nothing makes me happer than seeing this through her eyes. I am very lucky.)
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
On Being British…
One of the reasons I went into acting was because I was so insecure about myself. There was this feeling in my gut that said if I could be other people it was better than being me. The problem, though, was that there never were enough roles, enough shows, and I ended up having to be me far too often.
My solution to this problem was to not be me even when I had to be me. In high school – yes, that long ago – I adopted a British mannerism to try and sound cool, not realizing that I only looked like a dork. The accent didn’t just stick with me; it became difficult to use my normal voice at times. I was that accustomed to “speaking British”.
Those days passed and I grew up. I met my first wife and married her. Of course, being so insecure, I would often slip into my British voice in a vain attempt at impressing her. I’m sure it wasn’t too difficult for her to see through it and she’d tell me to stop. For 15 years, she told me to stop.
So, it shouldn’t come as any surprise that, when Vicky and I got together, my inclination towards putting on my British voice had been beaten down all together? Even when she asked me to do it, I wouldn’t. Even the thought of doing the voice was just embarrassing.
Which goes to show: Each relationship you have is built on the ruins of the one before.
Vicky wanted to hear my British accent, and not the dribs and drabs I’d give her.
I decided, then, to really let her have it. On Valentine’s Day morning, I gave her a card and within, I wrote, “Today, just for you, I will be British.” And, so, I was. I held up my British accent all day: in the hotel room in the morning, when we checked out, as we drove home, when we stopped at Starbucks… the whole drive.
I’m not sure how it was but I did notice that being out of practice had taken its toll. It took me a while to find it in my mouth. Accents are, to me, a matter of what I call “mouth feel”. If it feels right, it’ll sound right. And this isn’t just any British accent we’re talking about. It is what I call my “British voice”. That means it is the most natural accent for my mouth, the one I’d use if I was British. The difference between it and some accent is the difference between a caricature and a painting.
As I say, I kept it up all day. As the day progressed, my mouth sank into the voice, dropping the affectation and adapting to the fit. I realized something, though. And that is, drives down the length of California – or anywhere – don’t really call for talking very much. While I was using the voice, there wasn’t much reason to talk. And I wanted to talk! I wanted to show off my voice for Vicky who had waited this long to hear it…
Dammit.
And then, as we neared home, with Vicky behind the wheel, my voice suddenly returned to normal as I yelled, “Shiiiiiiit!” Vicky had neglected to stop and careened into a length of stopped cars. Just before we slammed into them, she changed lanes very quickly, basically scaring the voice right out of me.
Oh well. Maybe, I’ll get more comfortable trying on other voice for Vicky in the future. Maybe this was a one day thing. Either way: Happy Valentine’s Day, Vic.
My solution to this problem was to not be me even when I had to be me. In high school – yes, that long ago – I adopted a British mannerism to try and sound cool, not realizing that I only looked like a dork. The accent didn’t just stick with me; it became difficult to use my normal voice at times. I was that accustomed to “speaking British”.
Those days passed and I grew up. I met my first wife and married her. Of course, being so insecure, I would often slip into my British voice in a vain attempt at impressing her. I’m sure it wasn’t too difficult for her to see through it and she’d tell me to stop. For 15 years, she told me to stop.
So, it shouldn’t come as any surprise that, when Vicky and I got together, my inclination towards putting on my British voice had been beaten down all together? Even when she asked me to do it, I wouldn’t. Even the thought of doing the voice was just embarrassing.
Which goes to show: Each relationship you have is built on the ruins of the one before.
Vicky wanted to hear my British accent, and not the dribs and drabs I’d give her.
I decided, then, to really let her have it. On Valentine’s Day morning, I gave her a card and within, I wrote, “Today, just for you, I will be British.” And, so, I was. I held up my British accent all day: in the hotel room in the morning, when we checked out, as we drove home, when we stopped at Starbucks… the whole drive.
I’m not sure how it was but I did notice that being out of practice had taken its toll. It took me a while to find it in my mouth. Accents are, to me, a matter of what I call “mouth feel”. If it feels right, it’ll sound right. And this isn’t just any British accent we’re talking about. It is what I call my “British voice”. That means it is the most natural accent for my mouth, the one I’d use if I was British. The difference between it and some accent is the difference between a caricature and a painting.
As I say, I kept it up all day. As the day progressed, my mouth sank into the voice, dropping the affectation and adapting to the fit. I realized something, though. And that is, drives down the length of California – or anywhere – don’t really call for talking very much. While I was using the voice, there wasn’t much reason to talk. And I wanted to talk! I wanted to show off my voice for Vicky who had waited this long to hear it…
Dammit.
And then, as we neared home, with Vicky behind the wheel, my voice suddenly returned to normal as I yelled, “Shiiiiiiit!” Vicky had neglected to stop and careened into a length of stopped cars. Just before we slammed into them, she changed lanes very quickly, basically scaring the voice right out of me.
Oh well. Maybe, I’ll get more comfortable trying on other voice for Vicky in the future. Maybe this was a one day thing. Either way: Happy Valentine’s Day, Vic.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Home of the Golden Gate…
Vicky and I heading out to San Francisco this weekend for the staged reading of Murielle’s Big Date at the Dark Room Theatre on Saturday 2/13 @ 5pm. (Come one! Come all!)
It’s been so long since I was last in San Francisco that I actually had to think back for a minute. It was my first time meeting Axel. He was giving me a hard time about what the Golden Gate Bridge looked like at night. I’d say, “I don’t know. I was dark.” He’d say, “So, you really don’t know what the color of the Golden Gate Bridge is?” And round and round we’d go. I really kinda hated Axel as I left San Francisco but, in the end, he turned out to be an okay guy.
This trip fills me with misgivings. After all, I’m still out of work and so I really shouldn’t take the extravagance. On the other hand, Vicky’s never been to San Francisco and really wants to go so I don’t have much say in it. After all, this is Vicky.
We’ll have one free day, give or take, and I’m hoping we can just walk about and see some of the town. Eat at some funky places. See some funky people. Bitch about the hills. You know, fun stuff.
The next day will be the show. I’m packing about three different shirts for the show, though I’m not sure which one to wear. Truth be told, I’m a bit nervous. If over-packing is a sign of nerves, I’m extremely nervous.
Hopefully, nobody will be asking me what the Golden Gate Bridge looks like in the dark.
It’s been so long since I was last in San Francisco that I actually had to think back for a minute. It was my first time meeting Axel. He was giving me a hard time about what the Golden Gate Bridge looked like at night. I’d say, “I don’t know. I was dark.” He’d say, “So, you really don’t know what the color of the Golden Gate Bridge is?” And round and round we’d go. I really kinda hated Axel as I left San Francisco but, in the end, he turned out to be an okay guy.
This trip fills me with misgivings. After all, I’m still out of work and so I really shouldn’t take the extravagance. On the other hand, Vicky’s never been to San Francisco and really wants to go so I don’t have much say in it. After all, this is Vicky.
We’ll have one free day, give or take, and I’m hoping we can just walk about and see some of the town. Eat at some funky places. See some funky people. Bitch about the hills. You know, fun stuff.
The next day will be the show. I’m packing about three different shirts for the show, though I’m not sure which one to wear. Truth be told, I’m a bit nervous. If over-packing is a sign of nerves, I’m extremely nervous.
Hopefully, nobody will be asking me what the Golden Gate Bridge looks like in the dark.
Monday, February 07, 2011
In-Between Jeans…
About a decade ago – yes, this goes a long way back so bear with me – I was pretty thin. Okay, it was actually only seven years, but still… I was far thinner than I was today.
I was thin because I didn’t eat. When I wanted to eat, I smoked or I drank. I was thin because I was an actor back then and you kinda had to be.
Since then, I got married and I got fat. I stopped acting but that was okay because I found myself spending a whole lot more time for my writing. (You might say I have a figure for writing.)
Now, when I use words like “thin” or “fat”, don’t get the wrong idea. I haven’t changed much and the difference in weight has only been about twenty pounds. When I was thin, I wore a 36 waist thin pair of jeans. As I got fatter, I moved from thin jeans all the way up to loose jeans – I would wear anything so long as I could still say I wore a 36 waist! I never wanted to move up to the dreaded 38.
Well, with all the jogging and cycling and walking I’ve been doing over the last year, my loose jeans have gone from just barely fitting to being… loose, actually. Actually loose! I actually have to wear a belt to keep them up! Imagine that.
Yesterday, Vicky decided I should get some new jeans. (Yes, SuperBowl Sunday – ugh!) What I ended up with were not thin jeans. I actually still have my thin jeans, which are waiting waiting waiting for that fateful day of thinness. No, but what I did get were called relaxed.
I’ve gone from loose to relaxed. Relaxed doesn’t sound nearly as loose as loose. Mind you, I’m not entirely relaxed in my relaxed jeans. They might as well be called the “See that? You’re fat” jeans.
But I’ll take relaxed.
I was thin because I didn’t eat. When I wanted to eat, I smoked or I drank. I was thin because I was an actor back then and you kinda had to be.
Since then, I got married and I got fat. I stopped acting but that was okay because I found myself spending a whole lot more time for my writing. (You might say I have a figure for writing.)
Now, when I use words like “thin” or “fat”, don’t get the wrong idea. I haven’t changed much and the difference in weight has only been about twenty pounds. When I was thin, I wore a 36 waist thin pair of jeans. As I got fatter, I moved from thin jeans all the way up to loose jeans – I would wear anything so long as I could still say I wore a 36 waist! I never wanted to move up to the dreaded 38.
Well, with all the jogging and cycling and walking I’ve been doing over the last year, my loose jeans have gone from just barely fitting to being… loose, actually. Actually loose! I actually have to wear a belt to keep them up! Imagine that.
Yesterday, Vicky decided I should get some new jeans. (Yes, SuperBowl Sunday – ugh!) What I ended up with were not thin jeans. I actually still have my thin jeans, which are waiting waiting waiting for that fateful day of thinness. No, but what I did get were called relaxed.
I’ve gone from loose to relaxed. Relaxed doesn’t sound nearly as loose as loose. Mind you, I’m not entirely relaxed in my relaxed jeans. They might as well be called the “See that? You’re fat” jeans.
But I’ll take relaxed.
Friday, February 04, 2011
All those years ago…
I received an email a few days ago from an old friend who was writing to remind me of something I did many years ago. It was 1976-77, and I was in the fourth grade. My teacher (whose name I have embarrassingly forgotten but I think it was Mrs. Coleman) was wonderful in that she allowed her students a great deal of self-expression. One way she did this was to allow me to perform sketches in front of the class.
When I say sketches, well, nothing could be further from the truth. My dad had left us a few years before and one of the few things he’d left behind was a Don Adams comedy record. It wasn’t stand-up but, rather, a crude series of audio sketches. One in particular was about an interview with a bank robber, mid-robbery. So, I took that record and corralled up a bunch of my friends and drilled them until they had their parts memorized and directed them and, before you knew it, had us all up in front of the rest of the class performing it for them. This went on for some time. Different sketches brought different casts, with me always casting myself in the lead role (of course). I took these sketches to other classes and won talent shows with it. Then, I started writing my own comedy sketches and things started to take off until – 6th grade and a new school filled with strangers. It would be four years before I performed again.
Anyway, as I say, I received this email from my old friend on a particularly awful day. My unemployment benefits are running out. My writing was getting me nothing but rejections. Things were pretty bleak. I wasn’t feeling particularly upbeat about anything. When I thought of my sketches in elementary school, I thought back on the nerd in glasses I was back then, the hyper kid who couldn’t sit still, and how much I wished someone had stopped me then and prevented me from even thinking about pursuing any kind of art.
And this just goes to show how important perspective is. My old friend wrote to tell me how he still remembers those old days in elementary school with warmth and how grateful he was that I pulled him into doing those sketches. He was very complimentary about the gift I have towards writing and how much he admires me for sticking with it.
I felt like writing back and saying, “You don’t understand. It’s not a blessing, you idiot. It’s a curse.” Then, I realized it was all a matter of perspective.
As Vicky told me, not everyone gets to pursue their passion or has the tenacity/stubbornness/gall/whatever to stick with it. What I think of as exhausting, they may see as something admirable. I don’t know. But it was nice to hear that someone saw me/sees me as more than just some loser who doesn’t know when he should quit.
When I say sketches, well, nothing could be further from the truth. My dad had left us a few years before and one of the few things he’d left behind was a Don Adams comedy record. It wasn’t stand-up but, rather, a crude series of audio sketches. One in particular was about an interview with a bank robber, mid-robbery. So, I took that record and corralled up a bunch of my friends and drilled them until they had their parts memorized and directed them and, before you knew it, had us all up in front of the rest of the class performing it for them. This went on for some time. Different sketches brought different casts, with me always casting myself in the lead role (of course). I took these sketches to other classes and won talent shows with it. Then, I started writing my own comedy sketches and things started to take off until – 6th grade and a new school filled with strangers. It would be four years before I performed again.
Anyway, as I say, I received this email from my old friend on a particularly awful day. My unemployment benefits are running out. My writing was getting me nothing but rejections. Things were pretty bleak. I wasn’t feeling particularly upbeat about anything. When I thought of my sketches in elementary school, I thought back on the nerd in glasses I was back then, the hyper kid who couldn’t sit still, and how much I wished someone had stopped me then and prevented me from even thinking about pursuing any kind of art.
And this just goes to show how important perspective is. My old friend wrote to tell me how he still remembers those old days in elementary school with warmth and how grateful he was that I pulled him into doing those sketches. He was very complimentary about the gift I have towards writing and how much he admires me for sticking with it.
I felt like writing back and saying, “You don’t understand. It’s not a blessing, you idiot. It’s a curse.” Then, I realized it was all a matter of perspective.
As Vicky told me, not everyone gets to pursue their passion or has the tenacity/stubbornness/gall/whatever to stick with it. What I think of as exhausting, they may see as something admirable. I don’t know. But it was nice to hear that someone saw me/sees me as more than just some loser who doesn’t know when he should quit.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Oxymorons for the 21st century...
(first in a series… that I’ll probably forget about continuing…)
Liberal Democrat
Free Press
Facebook Friend
Liberal Democrat
Free Press
Facebook Friend
Thursday, January 27, 2011
My greatest fear…
Let me start this with a brief primer: Vicky is wonderful and I love her more than I can tell you. She supports me completely. She’s my biggest fan. What more can I ask for?
Got it?
So, let me jump to the chase. Things have gone from bad to worse on the job front and I am seriously floundering. It’s pretty bad – but that’s not the worst part.
Vicky is experiencing a time in her professional life that can’t be beat. She is experiencing victory after victory and I couldn’t be more proud of her. Meanwhile, life is taking one big fat dump after another on me. It’s really difficult to get out of bed some days because things just keep getting worse.
What does this have to do with my greatest fear? It’s like this: one of these days it will be perfectly understandable for Vicky to want someone who isn’t so terribly unfortunate in his career, someone with a job, say. When that day comes, it would be perfectly understandable for her to cut her losses and move on.
I’m in this position through no fault of my own but there’s no denying how horrible my luck has been. I am terribly afraid my one bit of luck remaining, that being the fact that Vicky always comes home to me, is going to take a dive, too.
I don’t write this because I want feedback or advice. I just want to put that out there because it is eating away at my insides and maybe getting it out will help.
Got it?
So, let me jump to the chase. Things have gone from bad to worse on the job front and I am seriously floundering. It’s pretty bad – but that’s not the worst part.
Vicky is experiencing a time in her professional life that can’t be beat. She is experiencing victory after victory and I couldn’t be more proud of her. Meanwhile, life is taking one big fat dump after another on me. It’s really difficult to get out of bed some days because things just keep getting worse.
What does this have to do with my greatest fear? It’s like this: one of these days it will be perfectly understandable for Vicky to want someone who isn’t so terribly unfortunate in his career, someone with a job, say. When that day comes, it would be perfectly understandable for her to cut her losses and move on.
I’m in this position through no fault of my own but there’s no denying how horrible my luck has been. I am terribly afraid my one bit of luck remaining, that being the fact that Vicky always comes home to me, is going to take a dive, too.
I don’t write this because I want feedback or advice. I just want to put that out there because it is eating away at my insides and maybe getting it out will help.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
A New Love in My Life
A new love has entered my life...
Meet my new niece Madelyn Noriko. She is so precious and beautiful. I just can't get enough time with her. While I haven't been able to have any children of my own (yet), I'm not any less happy for my brother and his wife. I fully intend on being the cool aunt that she love to spend time with. Monday, January 24, 2011
I am invading San Francisco… and YOU are invited!...
When I say that I am invading San Francisco, of course, I mean that my farce, Murielle’s Big Date, is getting a reading! I’ll be there. If you see me, say HI!
Murielle’s Big Date will be appearing at the Dark Room Theater on February 13th at 5pm. Writing Man Productions is putting together a staged reading of this absurd look at the reality of dating, dinner, and historic re-enactments. It should be a lot of fun.
If you can’t make it, please tell anyone you know who can. Spread the word… PLEASE!
I’ll see you after the show.
Murielle’s Big Date will be appearing at the Dark Room Theater on February 13th at 5pm. Writing Man Productions is putting together a staged reading of this absurd look at the reality of dating, dinner, and historic re-enactments. It should be a lot of fun.
If you can’t make it, please tell anyone you know who can. Spread the word… PLEASE!
I’ll see you after the show.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
My unemployment story…
I haven’t talked about this in a while, mostly because I don’t want to get maudlin. I know you probably read about it; it’s out there. I’m unemployed. The longer I’m unemployed things in my life evolve and I realized I hadn’t really been talking about them. Then, I read a review of the new film, The Company Men.
It inspired me to write an update on my situation when I read the line, “If two highly skilled and qualified people are making more money than two underperforming but lesser paid employees, guess which two get the axe.” That’s essentially what happened to me. In my case, there were two people in the department and one needed to be laid off. I was paid more but had much more experience and know-how. My co-worker was paid less. I was chosen for extermination. I still speak to my ex-co-worker and hear her complain about how they make her work and how she can’t fart around. Meanwhile, I’m unemployed – that’s what I call empathy.
In the past two years, I’ve gone through every high and low. I’ve applied for hundreds of jobs for a handful of interviews. In those interviews, I’ve been made to feel like shit, as though my situation must be my fault. I’ve been given plenty of false hope, practically having jobs promised to me. I’ve grown so desensitized that I think if I did get employed I wouldn’t believe it.
Meanwhile, there’s my lovely wife, Vicky. She’s doing great and I am very proud of her. Fortunately, I outgrew that dumb instinct that says the man has to make more than the woman a long time ago. I know she’s got her head on straight in the business world and this is her time. More than that, I realize she’s using her fortune to my advantage.
Vicky has encouraged me to use my time off to work on my writing career and that just makes me so happy. In my life, I’ve never really had someone go to bat for me before. Granted, I still work on finding a job, just in case. I work temp jobs. I take any opportunity that comes my way, which has helped extend my unemployment benefits.
In the last two years, I haven’t gone two weeks without working on a new project. I’ve written several books and more plays. More than that, though, Vicky has taken an active role in helping me get the word out to agents, publishers, and theater folk. The results have been measurable. My first book is being published this year. If that was the only result it would be amazing, but there’s more. I recently took a look at the responses my work is getting and word is getting out. I now have over a dozen agents and publishers who have asked to see my books. For my plays, that number increases four-fold! That means people are seeking me out. My friend, Eric, calls it “momentum”. I call it “luck” and I hope it’ll hold.
Unemployment has been rough, no lie. We are living on a razor’s edge financially and things are not easy. When my unemployment runs out, I may be working at Target or the first minimum wage job that takes me. But to know my wife loves me enough to encourage me now when times are hard tells me she’ll be there in the future, too. I’ll take the first job that comes my way but the progress I’m seeing with my writing may may mean I won’t need to.
Either way, I know others have it far worse and I’m a pretty lucky guy, all things considered.
It inspired me to write an update on my situation when I read the line, “If two highly skilled and qualified people are making more money than two underperforming but lesser paid employees, guess which two get the axe.” That’s essentially what happened to me. In my case, there were two people in the department and one needed to be laid off. I was paid more but had much more experience and know-how. My co-worker was paid less. I was chosen for extermination. I still speak to my ex-co-worker and hear her complain about how they make her work and how she can’t fart around. Meanwhile, I’m unemployed – that’s what I call empathy.
In the past two years, I’ve gone through every high and low. I’ve applied for hundreds of jobs for a handful of interviews. In those interviews, I’ve been made to feel like shit, as though my situation must be my fault. I’ve been given plenty of false hope, practically having jobs promised to me. I’ve grown so desensitized that I think if I did get employed I wouldn’t believe it.
Meanwhile, there’s my lovely wife, Vicky. She’s doing great and I am very proud of her. Fortunately, I outgrew that dumb instinct that says the man has to make more than the woman a long time ago. I know she’s got her head on straight in the business world and this is her time. More than that, I realize she’s using her fortune to my advantage.
Vicky has encouraged me to use my time off to work on my writing career and that just makes me so happy. In my life, I’ve never really had someone go to bat for me before. Granted, I still work on finding a job, just in case. I work temp jobs. I take any opportunity that comes my way, which has helped extend my unemployment benefits.
In the last two years, I haven’t gone two weeks without working on a new project. I’ve written several books and more plays. More than that, though, Vicky has taken an active role in helping me get the word out to agents, publishers, and theater folk. The results have been measurable. My first book is being published this year. If that was the only result it would be amazing, but there’s more. I recently took a look at the responses my work is getting and word is getting out. I now have over a dozen agents and publishers who have asked to see my books. For my plays, that number increases four-fold! That means people are seeking me out. My friend, Eric, calls it “momentum”. I call it “luck” and I hope it’ll hold.
Unemployment has been rough, no lie. We are living on a razor’s edge financially and things are not easy. When my unemployment runs out, I may be working at Target or the first minimum wage job that takes me. But to know my wife loves me enough to encourage me now when times are hard tells me she’ll be there in the future, too. I’ll take the first job that comes my way but the progress I’m seeing with my writing may may mean I won’t need to.
Either way, I know others have it far worse and I’m a pretty lucky guy, all things considered.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Day off with my lady...
So, what kind of day did Vicky and I have yesterday?
Yesterday was the day we decided I would take one day each week and not work. (More on that over at the Ken La Salle blog.) But what do you do with a whole day not working? Well, Vicky was able to help me with that.
In the morning, we went down to the OC Swap Meet. We stopped for a little breakfast at Mimi’s first and I got the Pain Perdu breakfast, which is really the way God (if there was one and I was his/her/it’s spokesman) would do french toast. We sat and enjoyed coffee together and discussed our careers and Vicky’s forthcoming niece and it was completely relaxing long before we even got the food. When we got the food, Vicky got the Florentine crepes with a little potatoes and I got the pain perdu… and the eggs… and the potatoes… and the sausage… and the bran muffin… I was a pig.
Anyway, after breakfast we hit the Swap Meet. For those who haven’t gone, it’s an enormous parking lot filled with people selling all kinds of crap – most of which are sun glasses – and you get to walk it. Think of shopping on the Internet but in reverse. I didn’t care, though, because I saw it as a day in which I would get to walk with Vicky and share the day at her side. I really enjoy hanging out with Vicky and count myself lucky for that. I’ve been in other relationships where the “like” factor is excruciatingly low; one or both of us just did not like the other, though we were very much in love – yeah, no fun. The great thing about Vicky is how we’ve always liked each other and our love just gets stronger every year.
But enough mush. Vicky had gone to the Swap Meet expressly to pick up her brother a speaker – cause her brother has far too much money, the bastard. Fortunately, he’s getting a kid and that will be the end of that. After we bought it and agreed to pick it up on our way out, we started walking. Most of it was very pleasant – and then there were the smokers. Listen, I have nothing against smoking. If you want to smoke, please go ahead. But consider where you’re at when you do it. Try not to smoke around crowds of children, for instance. That might be nice. Times like that make me very grateful I quit, so I don’t have to admit to being one of those…
Vicky bought me my first pair of Vans since, well, the 1980’s. I liked the checked ones but Vicky said I was trying too hard to be young. Actually, I was just trying to get the ones I liked but, as it turned out, we had bigger issues than that. The issues were my feet. Damn, they’re big! I had to buy a size 13 and they only had one size 13 shoe. Turned out, I liked it. In fact, I’m wearing them now as I write. Vicky stopped by this jewelry shack that basically specialized in ugly jewelry. I played Switzerland as she bought herself a ring. As long as she was happy, I was fine.
The Swap Meet ate up a bit of our day but there was still plenty of time to go home and work. Vicky would have none of that. So, I actually played a video game for a while! Shocking! You see, up until a couple of years ago – maybe less – before I really made writing the driving force in my life, I would sit and play a video game for several hours every day or so. It was lovely, honestly. I’d forgotten.
So, having a day off was nice. I actually find myself looking forward to next Sunday. Mind you, I’ve got a week until then.
Back to work…
Yesterday was the day we decided I would take one day each week and not work. (More on that over at the Ken La Salle blog.) But what do you do with a whole day not working? Well, Vicky was able to help me with that.
In the morning, we went down to the OC Swap Meet. We stopped for a little breakfast at Mimi’s first and I got the Pain Perdu breakfast, which is really the way God (if there was one and I was his/her/it’s spokesman) would do french toast. We sat and enjoyed coffee together and discussed our careers and Vicky’s forthcoming niece and it was completely relaxing long before we even got the food. When we got the food, Vicky got the Florentine crepes with a little potatoes and I got the pain perdu… and the eggs… and the potatoes… and the sausage… and the bran muffin… I was a pig.
Anyway, after breakfast we hit the Swap Meet. For those who haven’t gone, it’s an enormous parking lot filled with people selling all kinds of crap – most of which are sun glasses – and you get to walk it. Think of shopping on the Internet but in reverse. I didn’t care, though, because I saw it as a day in which I would get to walk with Vicky and share the day at her side. I really enjoy hanging out with Vicky and count myself lucky for that. I’ve been in other relationships where the “like” factor is excruciatingly low; one or both of us just did not like the other, though we were very much in love – yeah, no fun. The great thing about Vicky is how we’ve always liked each other and our love just gets stronger every year.
But enough mush. Vicky had gone to the Swap Meet expressly to pick up her brother a speaker – cause her brother has far too much money, the bastard. Fortunately, he’s getting a kid and that will be the end of that. After we bought it and agreed to pick it up on our way out, we started walking. Most of it was very pleasant – and then there were the smokers. Listen, I have nothing against smoking. If you want to smoke, please go ahead. But consider where you’re at when you do it. Try not to smoke around crowds of children, for instance. That might be nice. Times like that make me very grateful I quit, so I don’t have to admit to being one of those…
Vicky bought me my first pair of Vans since, well, the 1980’s. I liked the checked ones but Vicky said I was trying too hard to be young. Actually, I was just trying to get the ones I liked but, as it turned out, we had bigger issues than that. The issues were my feet. Damn, they’re big! I had to buy a size 13 and they only had one size 13 shoe. Turned out, I liked it. In fact, I’m wearing them now as I write. Vicky stopped by this jewelry shack that basically specialized in ugly jewelry. I played Switzerland as she bought herself a ring. As long as she was happy, I was fine.
The Swap Meet ate up a bit of our day but there was still plenty of time to go home and work. Vicky would have none of that. So, I actually played a video game for a while! Shocking! You see, up until a couple of years ago – maybe less – before I really made writing the driving force in my life, I would sit and play a video game for several hours every day or so. It was lovely, honestly. I’d forgotten.
So, having a day off was nice. I actually find myself looking forward to next Sunday. Mind you, I’ve got a week until then.
Back to work…
Thursday, January 13, 2011
You are the sunshine of my life…
I’d like to talk about weather today.
Yes, I understand that’s painfully boring but please bear with me.
When I first took up cycling, it was only for a few weeks in the coolest part of summer when the temperatures were just so, not too hot and not too cool. Then, as I got more interested in it and as my goals became more elaborate, I cycled for a longer period in the year, in more months and more differences in weather. But I would watch the hardcore cyclists as they cycled in the winter and think, “I don’t know how they do that but it’s too damned cold for me.”
Somehow, though, Vicky and I have figured it out and while I’m not cycling in the snow I can now cycle when it’s 48° f where once I could only cycle after the temps hit 65° or higher. Vicky has been kind enough to purchase me a couple of long-sleeved jerseys and I’ve been smart enough to wear a long-sleeved shirt beneath it. This helped a great deal. What helped the most, though, was the thin, insulating cap that we bought for me to wear beneath my helmet. It was only around $10 and, somehow, it helps hold all of my heat in.
So, I’m cycling in the winter. This year, I’ve decided to keep a journal of all my miles (basically, it’s an Excel spreadsheet) so that I know how much I’ve covered by the end of the year. I’m guessing I hit at least 2,000… so far, I’ve ridden 20. I’ll keep you posted.
The best part of my first ride, yesterday, was that the sun finally came out. After weeks of unseasonable winter… which is to say winter… the sun shines once again on southern California. We’re not exactly baking out here but it is nice to have a bit of sunshine again.
Let’s hope that holds so I can get more cycling in.
Yes, I understand that’s painfully boring but please bear with me.
When I first took up cycling, it was only for a few weeks in the coolest part of summer when the temperatures were just so, not too hot and not too cool. Then, as I got more interested in it and as my goals became more elaborate, I cycled for a longer period in the year, in more months and more differences in weather. But I would watch the hardcore cyclists as they cycled in the winter and think, “I don’t know how they do that but it’s too damned cold for me.”
Somehow, though, Vicky and I have figured it out and while I’m not cycling in the snow I can now cycle when it’s 48° f where once I could only cycle after the temps hit 65° or higher. Vicky has been kind enough to purchase me a couple of long-sleeved jerseys and I’ve been smart enough to wear a long-sleeved shirt beneath it. This helped a great deal. What helped the most, though, was the thin, insulating cap that we bought for me to wear beneath my helmet. It was only around $10 and, somehow, it helps hold all of my heat in.
So, I’m cycling in the winter. This year, I’ve decided to keep a journal of all my miles (basically, it’s an Excel spreadsheet) so that I know how much I’ve covered by the end of the year. I’m guessing I hit at least 2,000… so far, I’ve ridden 20. I’ll keep you posted.
The best part of my first ride, yesterday, was that the sun finally came out. After weeks of unseasonable winter… which is to say winter… the sun shines once again on southern California. We’re not exactly baking out here but it is nice to have a bit of sunshine again.
Let’s hope that holds so I can get more cycling in.
Friday, January 07, 2011
Drive, I said…
Vicky and I missed out on our trip to San Francisco this weekend.
Originally, Vicky and I were supposed to go to San Francisco because a reading of my play, Murielle’s Big Date, was being staged at the Dark Room Theatre. Sadly, the date was changed. Not to fear, however. It’s still being done. The new date is February 13, 2011. If you’re in the city on that day, around 5pm-ish, we’d be happy to see you.
The downside, though, is that we had to change all of our plans. Typically, I freaked out and rushed Vicky to the phone to cancel our hotel reservations before it was too late to get a refund… you know, when we could have just changed the date. Okay, so I’m a bit nervous about money these days.
So now we’ll be heading up next month. Vicky is kind of disgusted by the $40 parking fee we have to pay every day we’re in the city so, she suggested, “Why don’t we just take the train?” I don’t tell her it’s the same train I took to get married back in the 80’s. I don’t have to. She sees that the train won’t take us into the city and we’ll have to take a bus – so, that’s out. How about flying in? Well, the cost of flying is just downright crazy. It’s cheaper to park.
Anyway, I tell her, I like driving with her. There’s something really cool to me about being in a car with Vicky for long periods of time, sharing the experience and jokes and conversation. If I could somehow lock Vicky in a room without TV and we could spend eight hours in bed together, I’d do it! But I can’t. This is the next best thing.
So, we’ll drive. We’ll park. We’ll be there.
Hope to see you, too.
Originally, Vicky and I were supposed to go to San Francisco because a reading of my play, Murielle’s Big Date, was being staged at the Dark Room Theatre. Sadly, the date was changed. Not to fear, however. It’s still being done. The new date is February 13, 2011. If you’re in the city on that day, around 5pm-ish, we’d be happy to see you.
The downside, though, is that we had to change all of our plans. Typically, I freaked out and rushed Vicky to the phone to cancel our hotel reservations before it was too late to get a refund… you know, when we could have just changed the date. Okay, so I’m a bit nervous about money these days.
So now we’ll be heading up next month. Vicky is kind of disgusted by the $40 parking fee we have to pay every day we’re in the city so, she suggested, “Why don’t we just take the train?” I don’t tell her it’s the same train I took to get married back in the 80’s. I don’t have to. She sees that the train won’t take us into the city and we’ll have to take a bus – so, that’s out. How about flying in? Well, the cost of flying is just downright crazy. It’s cheaper to park.
Anyway, I tell her, I like driving with her. There’s something really cool to me about being in a car with Vicky for long periods of time, sharing the experience and jokes and conversation. If I could somehow lock Vicky in a room without TV and we could spend eight hours in bed together, I’d do it! But I can’t. This is the next best thing.
So, we’ll drive. We’ll park. We’ll be there.
Hope to see you, too.
Tuesday, January 04, 2011
Just needing a hug…
I get peculiar when I’m sick.
Well… more peculiar. Differently peculiar.
Peculiarly peculiar.
Last Thursday, I did a great five-mile jog. The day was windy and cold and jogging felt great. When I hit the halfway point and had to turn around, it felt a bit less great as I jogged back into the wind. It felt less great still when the wind bit into my throat with icy teeth.
I got home certain I’d probably catch a chill and the inevitable cold.
I was right.
By Friday, I was feeling sick and I was sick all through the weekend. Vicky did what she usually does: tried to get me to lie down and offered to get me fluids. But there’s one thing I need when I’m sick that she isn’t too keen on. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t want to get sick, too.
The one thing I need… is hugs.
Lots of hugs.
I just want to be held tight, especially when I feel as I did the other day with body aches and pains. I just want to be held and kissed and told it’s going to be all right.
Basically, I turn into a big baby. I won’t deny it. That’s okay. Vicky does, too. And when she does, she turns into the grumpy kind of baby who just wants to be left alone. And there we are. Two different types of sickos: the love bug and the grumpy bear.
Somehow, we’ll have to work on this…
Well… more peculiar. Differently peculiar.
Peculiarly peculiar.
Last Thursday, I did a great five-mile jog. The day was windy and cold and jogging felt great. When I hit the halfway point and had to turn around, it felt a bit less great as I jogged back into the wind. It felt less great still when the wind bit into my throat with icy teeth.
I got home certain I’d probably catch a chill and the inevitable cold.
I was right.
By Friday, I was feeling sick and I was sick all through the weekend. Vicky did what she usually does: tried to get me to lie down and offered to get me fluids. But there’s one thing I need when I’m sick that she isn’t too keen on. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t want to get sick, too.
The one thing I need… is hugs.
Lots of hugs.
I just want to be held tight, especially when I feel as I did the other day with body aches and pains. I just want to be held and kissed and told it’s going to be all right.
Basically, I turn into a big baby. I won’t deny it. That’s okay. Vicky does, too. And when she does, she turns into the grumpy kind of baby who just wants to be left alone. And there we are. Two different types of sickos: the love bug and the grumpy bear.
Somehow, we’ll have to work on this…
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Vicky’s hidden talent…
I feel it’s my job to post at least one complaint about my wife online each year, so people don’t think she’s too perfect… or… just perfect…
Vicky has this gift of being able to turn on every light source (and sometimes more) in a room before leaving it. She is completely oblivious to the idea that electricity costs money. In her world, it’s not only free but an affront to the power company if you don’t use it.
So, I end up following her around, switching off light after light after light. She’ll go downstairs; I’ll turn off the lights (and sometimes more) upstairs. She’ll go upstairs; I’ll turn off the lights (and sometimes more) downstairs.
This is how it works in our house.
Thank God for this flaw – however incredibly large and annoying it may be – in Vicky’s character. Without this, she may appear perfect in my eyes.
… there is that chance…
Vicky has this gift of being able to turn on every light source (and sometimes more) in a room before leaving it. She is completely oblivious to the idea that electricity costs money. In her world, it’s not only free but an affront to the power company if you don’t use it.
So, I end up following her around, switching off light after light after light. She’ll go downstairs; I’ll turn off the lights (and sometimes more) upstairs. She’ll go upstairs; I’ll turn off the lights (and sometimes more) downstairs.
This is how it works in our house.
Thank God for this flaw – however incredibly large and annoying it may be – in Vicky’s character. Without this, she may appear perfect in my eyes.
… there is that chance…
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Another step towards vegetarian
I like to read "news" stories on Yahoo. I know that these stories aren't really news and are mostly just entertaining, but I read them all the same.
Today, a story about how our food is making us (Americans) fat caught my attention. Now, in case you don't know, I've been working hard on improving my eating habits. I still have my bad days, but they are fewer in number. I am eating more whole foods (you know, then non-processed kind) and I feel great when I do. It makes such a difference.
Back to my story, so I read this article about how our food is making us fat, and came across this in the article
Most fast-food hamburger patties begin their voyage to your buns in the hands of a company called Beef Products. The company specializes in taking slaughterhouse trimmings—heads and hooves and the like—that are traditionally used only in pet food and cooking oil, and turning them into patties. The challenge is getting this byproduct meat clean enough for human consumption, as both E. coli and salmonella like to concentrate themselves in the fatty deposits.
The company has developed a process for killing beef-based pathogens by forcing the ground meat through pipes and exposing it to ammonia gas—the same chemical you might use to clean your bathroom. Not only has the USDA approved the process, but it's also allowed those who sell the beef to keep it hidden from their customers. At Beef Products’ behest, ammonia gas has been deemed a “processing agent” that need not be identified on nutrition labels. Never mind that if ammonia gets on your skin, it can cause severe burning, and if it gets in your eyes, it can blind you. Add to the gross-out factor the fact that after moving through this lengthy industrial process, a single beef patty can consist of cobbled-together pieces from different cows from all over the world—a practice that only increases the odds of contamination.
Now, I already can hear Ken talking to back to my post...you know that I've been telling you this for years now!
Don't get me wrong, I love a good steak. I've been a meat eater my entire life and except for the past few years, with never a second thought. Now, my desire for a burger has just plummeted to negative 100. Really now, eating meat by-products that have been treated with ammonia just turns my stomach.
Today, a story about how our food is making us (Americans) fat caught my attention. Now, in case you don't know, I've been working hard on improving my eating habits. I still have my bad days, but they are fewer in number. I am eating more whole foods (you know, then non-processed kind) and I feel great when I do. It makes such a difference.
Back to my story, so I read this article about how our food is making us fat, and came across this in the article
Most fast-food hamburger patties begin their voyage to your buns in the hands of a company called Beef Products. The company specializes in taking slaughterhouse trimmings—heads and hooves and the like—that are traditionally used only in pet food and cooking oil, and turning them into patties. The challenge is getting this byproduct meat clean enough for human consumption, as both E. coli and salmonella like to concentrate themselves in the fatty deposits.
The company has developed a process for killing beef-based pathogens by forcing the ground meat through pipes and exposing it to ammonia gas—the same chemical you might use to clean your bathroom. Not only has the USDA approved the process, but it's also allowed those who sell the beef to keep it hidden from their customers. At Beef Products’ behest, ammonia gas has been deemed a “processing agent” that need not be identified on nutrition labels. Never mind that if ammonia gets on your skin, it can cause severe burning, and if it gets in your eyes, it can blind you. Add to the gross-out factor the fact that after moving through this lengthy industrial process, a single beef patty can consist of cobbled-together pieces from different cows from all over the world—a practice that only increases the odds of contamination.
Now, I already can hear Ken talking to back to my post...you know that I've been telling you this for years now!
Don't get me wrong, I love a good steak. I've been a meat eater my entire life and except for the past few years, with never a second thought. Now, my desire for a burger has just plummeted to negative 100. Really now, eating meat by-products that have been treated with ammonia just turns my stomach.
On criminals, pot holes, and global warming…
On Christmas Day, Vicky and I stayed at home. Vicky put a beautiful pork roast in her slow cooker and settled back with me to enjoy a few movies. As dinner neared, the “slow” part of slow cooking lost its allure and Vicky suggested we go out and pick up some bread, for dipping and for sauce once the roast was done.
We drove down to one of our local stores and, as we pulled into the parking lot, we witnessed a guy drive his truck into a parked car. Then, he backed up and smashed his truck into the car again.
Vicky parked safely away and we decided she’d go pick up the bread while I watched the car. (I didn’t want someone running into our car.) As she left, I watched the guy get out of his truck and look at what he’d done. Then, he drove his truck to a nearby spot, got out, and inspected his damage. Several spectators walked away and I wished I could have been that close because they had probably seen his license plate number. (My angle wasn’t right.) I thought about how I might get the number. I got out of the car and walked around a bit – when I saw Vicky.
She hadn’t gone into the store. She’d stopped at the entrance, where she had a great view of the number, and had called the police. She was giving them all the details! I was going to go to her when I saw the driver get in his truck and drive – I thought he was driving towards Vicky but he took off for the street and drove away.
I gotta hand it to Vicky for her bravery – but I wish she’d have a little more self-preservation, if you know what I mean.
Anyway, Vicky and I agreed to wait for the police. They arrived nearly right away and we both told them what we saw. In minutes, they received word that police caught the guy getting home and we were asked if we could identify him. Vicky and I didn’t hesitate. We rode in the back of separate vehicles (my first time for that) and identified the guy from within the car.
We got back and continued to give our statements. As we did this, we learned that the car that was struck belonged to the sister of one of the store’s supervisors. She was using her sister’s car. This hit awfully close to home because Vicky’s car had died the day before and we were using her sister-in-law’s car. The supervisor had no idea why her car had been struck. Vicky and I were glad we could at least show her that there were people in the world who cared, especially after all the other witnesses had just taken off. It turned out that the driver of the truck was out on parole and no one had any idea why he was hitting the supervisor’s car but it clearly did not look good for him.
Hitting a car is one thing. Hitting is twice and then driving off – another.
Vicky and I talked a lot about cynicism that night and how awful it is that so few actually care about others. This reminded me of the pot holes. The streets in our city have become riddled with potholes of late. This is mostly because voters have so short-sightedly voted for tax cuts and the politicians who support tax cuts that even simple road repair can no longer be done, leaving us with third-world streets.
It made me wonder how we’ll ever get people to care about their future, to take care of things like global warming, when they’re too selfish to pay money to have their roads fixed. The results of global warming and climate change will kill a great deal of us – and if it doesn’t get you, it’ll get your children and theirs and theirs – but if you won’t even help someone being violated on the street, if you won’t even call the cops when some thug is smashing their car into the one somebody borrowed from their sister, if you can’t be bothered to pay for simple things like decent roads or schools… what hope is there?
We drove down to one of our local stores and, as we pulled into the parking lot, we witnessed a guy drive his truck into a parked car. Then, he backed up and smashed his truck into the car again.
Vicky parked safely away and we decided she’d go pick up the bread while I watched the car. (I didn’t want someone running into our car.) As she left, I watched the guy get out of his truck and look at what he’d done. Then, he drove his truck to a nearby spot, got out, and inspected his damage. Several spectators walked away and I wished I could have been that close because they had probably seen his license plate number. (My angle wasn’t right.) I thought about how I might get the number. I got out of the car and walked around a bit – when I saw Vicky.
She hadn’t gone into the store. She’d stopped at the entrance, where she had a great view of the number, and had called the police. She was giving them all the details! I was going to go to her when I saw the driver get in his truck and drive – I thought he was driving towards Vicky but he took off for the street and drove away.
I gotta hand it to Vicky for her bravery – but I wish she’d have a little more self-preservation, if you know what I mean.
Anyway, Vicky and I agreed to wait for the police. They arrived nearly right away and we both told them what we saw. In minutes, they received word that police caught the guy getting home and we were asked if we could identify him. Vicky and I didn’t hesitate. We rode in the back of separate vehicles (my first time for that) and identified the guy from within the car.
We got back and continued to give our statements. As we did this, we learned that the car that was struck belonged to the sister of one of the store’s supervisors. She was using her sister’s car. This hit awfully close to home because Vicky’s car had died the day before and we were using her sister-in-law’s car. The supervisor had no idea why her car had been struck. Vicky and I were glad we could at least show her that there were people in the world who cared, especially after all the other witnesses had just taken off. It turned out that the driver of the truck was out on parole and no one had any idea why he was hitting the supervisor’s car but it clearly did not look good for him.
Hitting a car is one thing. Hitting is twice and then driving off – another.
Vicky and I talked a lot about cynicism that night and how awful it is that so few actually care about others. This reminded me of the pot holes. The streets in our city have become riddled with potholes of late. This is mostly because voters have so short-sightedly voted for tax cuts and the politicians who support tax cuts that even simple road repair can no longer be done, leaving us with third-world streets.
It made me wonder how we’ll ever get people to care about their future, to take care of things like global warming, when they’re too selfish to pay money to have their roads fixed. The results of global warming and climate change will kill a great deal of us – and if it doesn’t get you, it’ll get your children and theirs and theirs – but if you won’t even help someone being violated on the street, if you won’t even call the cops when some thug is smashing their car into the one somebody borrowed from their sister, if you can’t be bothered to pay for simple things like decent roads or schools… what hope is there?
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Someone should have asked…
Let me preface this by saying I am fully in support of equal rights for all. I think all of my brothers and sisters should enjoy equal rights be they straight or gay or transgendered or anything in between. That said, here’s the exception that proves the rule.
What the hell were they thinking with Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell?
Listen to this hypothetical: World War Three breaks out – or any other war, we have so many – and everyone is drafted to go get killed in war. Prior to today’s signing of DADT out of the books, anyone could have said, “Oh, sorry. I’d rather not get killed. I’m gay.” No homosexual or bisexual or transgendered individual ever had to fight or die in a war. Ever.
That shit won’t fly any more.
The one loophole homosexuals (et al) had in their favor they threw away. They actually protested to have it taken away!
Could have been marriage. Could have been insurance rights. Could have been any number of a thousand other things, but the one thing – the thing that kept them alive and gave them the out no straight man (or woman) has ever had – that’s what they asked to have taken away.
I love my brothers and sisters out there, no matter their color or faith or proclivity.
… I’m just saying… that was a really stupid choice, guys.
What the hell were they thinking with Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell?
Listen to this hypothetical: World War Three breaks out – or any other war, we have so many – and everyone is drafted to go get killed in war. Prior to today’s signing of DADT out of the books, anyone could have said, “Oh, sorry. I’d rather not get killed. I’m gay.” No homosexual or bisexual or transgendered individual ever had to fight or die in a war. Ever.
That shit won’t fly any more.
The one loophole homosexuals (et al) had in their favor they threw away. They actually protested to have it taken away!
Could have been marriage. Could have been insurance rights. Could have been any number of a thousand other things, but the one thing – the thing that kept them alive and gave them the out no straight man (or woman) has ever had – that’s what they asked to have taken away.
I love my brothers and sisters out there, no matter their color or faith or proclivity.
… I’m just saying… that was a really stupid choice, guys.
Monday, December 20, 2010
The best Christmas story… until…
Vicky and I were at a Christmas brunch the other day, held by one of her employers. (All comments to the effect that I’m a lazy bastard for not working when my wife works two jobs – duly noted.)
The folks running the brunch were having everyone stand up and tell a story about themselves, one at a time, which was a great way of getting to know one another. When my turn came, I told the story about how Vicky and I chose out wedding date.
I said, “Vicky and I were on the phone one night, just talking around the subject of marriage. Not talking about it, just circling round and round. She said, I wouldn’t want to get married in the summer. Too hot. I said, I wouldn’t want to get married in the winter. Too cold. We agreed sometime in between would be nice, such as September or October. But I wouldn’t want to get married in October because my birthday’s in October. Vicky said we couldn’t get married at the beginning of September because that would conflict with labor day. It would have to be sometime in between, say the third week or so. Sure, Vicky agreed. Like the weekend of the 25th, for instance. Then, we both stopped talking and there was a long pause. I asked, Did we just set a date?”
It’s a great story. People love it and it really shows how much Vicky and I wanted to be together.
Just one problem, though.
Vicky stood up and said, “Ken tells that story really well… except our wedding date is on the 24th, not the 25th.”
The folks running the brunch were having everyone stand up and tell a story about themselves, one at a time, which was a great way of getting to know one another. When my turn came, I told the story about how Vicky and I chose out wedding date.
I said, “Vicky and I were on the phone one night, just talking around the subject of marriage. Not talking about it, just circling round and round. She said, I wouldn’t want to get married in the summer. Too hot. I said, I wouldn’t want to get married in the winter. Too cold. We agreed sometime in between would be nice, such as September or October. But I wouldn’t want to get married in October because my birthday’s in October. Vicky said we couldn’t get married at the beginning of September because that would conflict with labor day. It would have to be sometime in between, say the third week or so. Sure, Vicky agreed. Like the weekend of the 25th, for instance. Then, we both stopped talking and there was a long pause. I asked, Did we just set a date?”
It’s a great story. People love it and it really shows how much Vicky and I wanted to be together.
Just one problem, though.
Vicky stood up and said, “Ken tells that story really well… except our wedding date is on the 24th, not the 25th.”
Friday, December 17, 2010
Where there’s smoke, our alarms won’t catch it…
Vicky was cooking several weeks ago… okay, maybe it was a month. Anyway, not to call my wife a bad cook but she kept setting off our smoke alarms. (She's really not a bad cook! Please don't stop cooking, Vic!)
Rathan than stand there with a magazine, waving the – let’s call it “smoke” – away so the alarm would stop, I just took them down out of the reach of the smoke.
I haven’t put them up since.
I’m sure that it probably would have been wise to put them back up. They could probably, I don’t know, warn me in case of a fire or something… but I get so busy…
Today, they started chirping their “Hey fucko, I’m outta battery power” chirp. I’m sure there’s a perfectly good reason for the chirp but I’m very busy… or something. Anyway, I popped the battery out of one to shut it up but I couldn’t get the second one open.
It’s still down there, chirping.
And I’ve realized I’m the laziest man ever to walk the face of the earth. Thankfully, I still have the energy to blog about it…
Rathan than stand there with a magazine, waving the – let’s call it “smoke” – away so the alarm would stop, I just took them down out of the reach of the smoke.
I haven’t put them up since.
I’m sure that it probably would have been wise to put them back up. They could probably, I don’t know, warn me in case of a fire or something… but I get so busy…
Today, they started chirping their “Hey fucko, I’m outta battery power” chirp. I’m sure there’s a perfectly good reason for the chirp but I’m very busy… or something. Anyway, I popped the battery out of one to shut it up but I couldn’t get the second one open.
It’s still down there, chirping.
And I’ve realized I’m the laziest man ever to walk the face of the earth. Thankfully, I still have the energy to blog about it…
Monday, December 13, 2010
Marketing…
Last night, Vicky and I went to Jeff’s housewarming party for his new apartment… apartmentwarming, I guess?... Anyway, it was nice. Jeff had decorated the place beautifully and the company was nice and he liked the gift we bought for him.
Jeff had a bunch of desserts and finger-foody stuff laid out. On the way home, Vicky realized we’d eaten plenty of… well, crap… but we hadn’t eaten any real food. She said she felt like she needed to put something real in her stomach and, so, we decided to stop by Denny’s.
There should be a number you can call when you decide to go to Denny’s… to talk you out of it.
We were seated and looked at menus. Both of us decided to get the “Super Bird” sandwich. I realized they call it the “Super Bird” sandwich because “Fried Turkey” sandwich sounds gross. Turns out, it is gross. It’s a fried turkey sandwich. What the hell did I expect???
Jeff had a bunch of desserts and finger-foody stuff laid out. On the way home, Vicky realized we’d eaten plenty of… well, crap… but we hadn’t eaten any real food. She said she felt like she needed to put something real in her stomach and, so, we decided to stop by Denny’s.
There should be a number you can call when you decide to go to Denny’s… to talk you out of it.
We were seated and looked at menus. Both of us decided to get the “Super Bird” sandwich. I realized they call it the “Super Bird” sandwich because “Fried Turkey” sandwich sounds gross. Turns out, it is gross. It’s a fried turkey sandwich. What the hell did I expect???
Friday, December 10, 2010
For those of you keeping track…
The big story out of Washington this week has been President Obama’s caving to the Repugs, the rich and powerful, the special interests, call them what you will, to extend Shrub’s tax bonanza on the riches 2% of America. I had previous stated that I would stand by Obama as long as he conducted himself in the upright manner with which he had conducted his campaign of 2008. Now, there have been plenty of opportunities to say he veered but never has he gone so straight off the map than now.
It doesn’t take any courage to stand up for the rich. It takes no strength of character to defend people who can make you rich and do you favors. Turning your back on the helpless is not that hard. It was Obama’s mandate to defend the helpless and to stand up against the powerful. By granting the richest 2% more money they don’t need, Obama has lost my support.
Worse still, however, have been the craven mutterings from his administration, suggesting that if we don’t back up a windfall of money for the rich we’ll all suffer a worse recession than the one we already have. Somehow, the suggest, that if we don’t keep doing favors for the wealthiest and most powerful we will be smitten by their ire.
Oh really? Well, fuck off.
We deserve a man with character and back-bone in Washington. Someone who is not afraid to fight for the good of all Americans and not just the powerful few. I’m sorry, Mr. President, but you have lost my respect. I might be alone on this, but somehow I don't think so.
It doesn’t take any courage to stand up for the rich. It takes no strength of character to defend people who can make you rich and do you favors. Turning your back on the helpless is not that hard. It was Obama’s mandate to defend the helpless and to stand up against the powerful. By granting the richest 2% more money they don’t need, Obama has lost my support.
Worse still, however, have been the craven mutterings from his administration, suggesting that if we don’t back up a windfall of money for the rich we’ll all suffer a worse recession than the one we already have. Somehow, the suggest, that if we don’t keep doing favors for the wealthiest and most powerful we will be smitten by their ire.
Oh really? Well, fuck off.
We deserve a man with character and back-bone in Washington. Someone who is not afraid to fight for the good of all Americans and not just the powerful few. I’m sorry, Mr. President, but you have lost my respect. I might be alone on this, but somehow I don't think so.
Wednesday, December 08, 2010
Here Comes The Apocalypse… All Over Again!...
Turns out the Rapture has now been scheduled for May 21, 2011, so it looks like we only have so much time to mock these idiots…
1) See you on May 22!
2) I knew my first wedding anniversary foretold some horrible event but I just thought it was my first wedding!
3) Good thing it’s on a weekend so we can celebrate!
4) Is there still time to buy a dress?
Now, for those of you who don’t understand sarcasm, the point is this: For as long as mankind has been around to foretell it’s future, there have been men (and women) who’ll fall for such nonsense. Religious texts should never be read as fact because, as shown here, it can be misinterpreted so stupidly. Bullshit, as it turns out, is easy to misinterpret.
If you buy into religion, you’re buying one of the world’s most profitable lies. Wise up and Rise up.
1) See you on May 22!
2) I knew my first wedding anniversary foretold some horrible event but I just thought it was my first wedding!
3) Good thing it’s on a weekend so we can celebrate!
4) Is there still time to buy a dress?
Now, for those of you who don’t understand sarcasm, the point is this: For as long as mankind has been around to foretell it’s future, there have been men (and women) who’ll fall for such nonsense. Religious texts should never be read as fact because, as shown here, it can be misinterpreted so stupidly. Bullshit, as it turns out, is easy to misinterpret.
If you buy into religion, you’re buying one of the world’s most profitable lies. Wise up and Rise up.
Sunday, December 05, 2010
Priorities...
Funny how the Repugnicans are insisting the Wikileak guy get caught... They're so up in arms about the truth getting out...
But they were just fine letting Osama bin Laden get away...
But they were just fine letting Osama bin Laden get away...
Friday, December 03, 2010
I can hear Alacrity...
For those of you who don’t know Alacrity, he’s my cat. I got him a lifetime ago – well, very nearly a lifetime for cats, at least – in 1995! He was once a cute, little white puffball. Now, he’s an old man with an attitude.
Every morning, he sits downstairs and meows and meows. He’s the feline equivalent of the old man who sits on his porch and yells at kids, “Get off my lawn!” And I’m the human equivalent of the old man who yells at his cat to shut up… because I yell at my cat to shut up. Doesn’t work, though. He keeps on howling.
We’ve ruled out any health issues. He eats and runs and scampers about most of the rest of the day… but once the wee small hours of the morning hit: Meow! Meow! Meow! (How cool would a dyslexic cat be? “Mewo! Mewo! Mewo!”)
I can’t get too mad at Alacrity. I know he’s old and just a pain in the ass. He’s outlived Bandoo and Othello – yeah, our house was a fun place during their passing… But I sure wish I knew what he was saying.
Vicky thinks he wakes up in the middle of the night, after all the people and the other animals have gone upstairs and to bed, and his meowing is his way of asking, “Where is everybody? Where’d everybody go?” It’s the feline equivalent of a “senior moment”…
Yeah. That fits.
Every morning, he sits downstairs and meows and meows. He’s the feline equivalent of the old man who sits on his porch and yells at kids, “Get off my lawn!” And I’m the human equivalent of the old man who yells at his cat to shut up… because I yell at my cat to shut up. Doesn’t work, though. He keeps on howling.
We’ve ruled out any health issues. He eats and runs and scampers about most of the rest of the day… but once the wee small hours of the morning hit: Meow! Meow! Meow! (How cool would a dyslexic cat be? “Mewo! Mewo! Mewo!”)
I can’t get too mad at Alacrity. I know he’s old and just a pain in the ass. He’s outlived Bandoo and Othello – yeah, our house was a fun place during their passing… But I sure wish I knew what he was saying.
Vicky thinks he wakes up in the middle of the night, after all the people and the other animals have gone upstairs and to bed, and his meowing is his way of asking, “Where is everybody? Where’d everybody go?” It’s the feline equivalent of a “senior moment”…
Yeah. That fits.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
You’re only as good as the last friend you lost…
I’m going to write about friends today. Before I do, however, I want to tell you about this wallet I found.
I was out walking the dogs a few days ago and, just about where Shipoopi was about to poop, there was this wallet in the grass. Nobody was around and there weren’t any signs as to who it might belong to, such as being in front of a car. I knew if I didn’t pick it up someone would, so I did. The wallet had no money in it, very little actually. It did have some ID, membership and credit cards. There was a letter inside, which I didn’t read. There was also a list of phone numbers, like a list of co-workers.
The first thing I did was to look up the addresses on the ID cards. Neither panned out. One belonged to a high school and the other, which I only learned after I drove to it, was an apartment manager’s office address. Dead end. The folks on the phone number list didn’t know the owner of the wallet so that was out, too.
Finally, I Googled the name. It’s a fairly unique name and I was fortunate to hit a Facebook page right away. I emailed the person and, sure enough, I found my lost wallet owner.
I’m supposed to meet the person sometime today to return the wallet.
I say all this because I feel it’s important to show at least one way in which I’m not a complete prick. Vicky would probably tell me I don’t need such an example, that I’m a good person and those who think differently are the pricks.
Maybe.
But I recently lost my best friend and, for the second time in as many years, I had someone I thought would be my friend for life tell me I was a total louse. Things like that tend to get to me. I try not to be a louse but I know I’m human and, therefore, could be a louse without knowing it.
My immediate response is to rationalize this with the knowledge that anyone who thinks I’m a louse is obviously not a friend, thus minimizing my loss. And yet, I can’t help wonder what it is about life that turns those I once loved against me. I could say it’s the other person. I could say it’s me. I think the truth lies somewhere else, kind of like the way divorces end up – or, at least, the way mine did.
There’s just no explaining it. You find someone who doesn’t think you’re a louse.
And you do things like returning lost wallets to remind yourself that, despite what others may think, you aren’t the bad person they think you are.
I was out walking the dogs a few days ago and, just about where Shipoopi was about to poop, there was this wallet in the grass. Nobody was around and there weren’t any signs as to who it might belong to, such as being in front of a car. I knew if I didn’t pick it up someone would, so I did. The wallet had no money in it, very little actually. It did have some ID, membership and credit cards. There was a letter inside, which I didn’t read. There was also a list of phone numbers, like a list of co-workers.
The first thing I did was to look up the addresses on the ID cards. Neither panned out. One belonged to a high school and the other, which I only learned after I drove to it, was an apartment manager’s office address. Dead end. The folks on the phone number list didn’t know the owner of the wallet so that was out, too.
Finally, I Googled the name. It’s a fairly unique name and I was fortunate to hit a Facebook page right away. I emailed the person and, sure enough, I found my lost wallet owner.
I’m supposed to meet the person sometime today to return the wallet.
I say all this because I feel it’s important to show at least one way in which I’m not a complete prick. Vicky would probably tell me I don’t need such an example, that I’m a good person and those who think differently are the pricks.
Maybe.
But I recently lost my best friend and, for the second time in as many years, I had someone I thought would be my friend for life tell me I was a total louse. Things like that tend to get to me. I try not to be a louse but I know I’m human and, therefore, could be a louse without knowing it.
My immediate response is to rationalize this with the knowledge that anyone who thinks I’m a louse is obviously not a friend, thus minimizing my loss. And yet, I can’t help wonder what it is about life that turns those I once loved against me. I could say it’s the other person. I could say it’s me. I think the truth lies somewhere else, kind of like the way divorces end up – or, at least, the way mine did.
There’s just no explaining it. You find someone who doesn’t think you’re a louse.
And you do things like returning lost wallets to remind yourself that, despite what others may think, you aren’t the bad person they think you are.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Don't ask, do tell?...
I would think that repealing "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" would be as simple as calling it the "Kill All The Gays in War Provision of 2010". How could the neo-cons argue with that? After all, isn't that what they want?
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Recovering the Self, the Slide-Show...
It was a privilege to see publication of something this personal and meaningful to me. I hope you enjoy it. You’ll see my familiar face on page 4. If you’re interested and able, please pick up a copy at Amazon or from the link on the slideshow. Be sure to drop a note or comment if you enjoy it.
Recovering the Self, Issue 5
View more presentations from Ernest Dempsey.
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