Anti Digital Heroin Hacks

StudyBreaks.co

Some people consider web surfing an Internet treat and not a horrid, greasy bug eating your time with knife and fork. I just spent yesterday off-line and feel particularly virtuous right now. 

THREE THINGS THAT WILL DAMPEN YOUR WEB SURFING

1. Clear your cookies at night. 

2. Erase your history. 

3. Pick a day of the week to shut off the computer.

"Can't do it."

"Impossible."

"Why?"

From my review of Nicholas Carr's The Shallows: "Neither luddite nor scold, Carr reasons calmly that our technologies are changing us to better adapt to their nature."

Cell phones, surely, are fine.

I reviewed Tomas Kersting's  book Disconnected where he noted that excessive screen time erodes focus, increases anxiety, and leads to social retardation.

Yesterday, I read a book old school style, sitting in a chair holding a physical object, giving my eyes and my focus time away from staring at a screen. (This after five weeks of publishing ebooks and paperbacks where I did nothing but lock eyes on a screen for hours each day.) It felt delightful.

I also recommend viewing a documentary called The Social Dilemma, in which web pioneers explain how their good intentions and technological developments led to web consumer becoming the product.  

Experiment at limiting your on-line time, if so inclined. Let me know the results.  

Thoughts on My 2020

A Land Remembered Journal

2020: I thought last year's post below was pretty comprehensive. Sadly, running—and weight loss—didn't pan out as I'd hoped. Back in November I injured my knees by forgetting everything I knew about chi running and attempting to "boost" my locomotion with extra force. And I'd been doing so well. In October I ran 48 miles for the month—the most since February—including 5 and 6 mile days. I had recovered from my spring Chinese Covid slump enough to enter a Virtual Challenge and was crushing it. Plus my wife and I were signed up for a 10k in Mesa, Arizona slated for February 2021. (We're going to Mesa anyway, just not to run.)

Self-inflicted running injuries are the absolute worst. No one to blame but yourself and I HATE blaming myself.

As for writing, it blossomed as in former days. I finished several short stories, including a whopping 12k word job. Sending them out wasn't resulting in sales, though the rejections were generally polite. So I assembled this year's crop along with stories dating back to 2009 and published the lot—all nine—in ebook form. Death Honk is out now on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Apple, Kobo, and more. The paperbacks will arrive in January. This is the first fiction book I've published since 2016. I bask in such warm accomplishments.

But writing is only a fraction of the battle for the indie author.

Unlike previous book launches, I obtained a few reviews in advance. Also, unlike previous launches, I bit off a good chunk more than I could chew. By attempting ebook and softcover launches on Amazon and Draft2Digital, I found each platform operates with different rules. So four sets of formatting required attention, eating up time with an appetite most voracious. Because my wife and her vast publishing experience were unavailable—I never interrupt her paying work—I was forced to hunt in the freelance veldt. The woman who proof read Death Honk was outstanding. The man who formatted the print version less so. As mentioned elsewhere, the cover designer rocked. 

No audio version for prostate, but I think that line has been jumped by Death Honk. We shall see how 2021 shapes up. I'd like publish a second edition of Hallow Mass with a new cover, add it to Draft2Digital, then write the second volume. Plan meet life. And for the second time in a paragraph I'll say: we shall see. 

This November marked fifteen years of blogging. Over 2k posts with entries topping 100 for the first time since 2012. Not that my traffic is that hot. But inconsistency carries a cost. I've really come to loath social media. (Do watch The Social Dilemma.) But I should examine which platform provides the most pop sales-wise for an author's effort. 

Canva proved a useful took in developing my own promotional materials. Even a digital butter fingers such as myself was able to figure it out. I highly recommend the website.

I end 2020 in reasonably good health, awash in efforts to publish two separate paperback versions of my anthology and eager to see what the future holds. 

And a Happy New Year to you!

The Express

Ryan Long Slags On Corporate Advertising

 As 2020 drags to a close, a little fun at corporate expense courtesy of comic Ryan Long. 

Ryan Long

A Matter of Credit

 The collage banner atop the page includes:

1. Photo of a man's head and eyes by Gage Walker on Unsplash

2. Big fish swimming to lens by Jen Theodore on Unsplash

3. Whites of the eyes boy by Jakayla Toney on Unsplash

4. Man with bandaged head by Armin Lotfi on Unsplash

5. Black man in shadow by Joel Mwakasege on Unsplash

6. Doll head by Tomasz Sroka on Unsplash

7. Devil Clown by Robert Zunikoff on Unsplash

8. Whites of the eyes woman by Alex Iby on Unsplash

9. Winged skull face by Donovan Reeves on Unsplash

10. Woman's hand on textile by Shane on Unsplash

11. Open-mouth man by Photo Boards on Unsplash

12. Woman screaming by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.

Assembled using Canva. 

Death Honk Launches on Draft2Digital

 

theimaginativeconservative

Pre-order is ended; pay full price. Not much. A buck more. But if you fancy shopping at Barnes & Noble, Apple, Kobo, or any store not named Amazon, then now is your opportunity to pounce upon a fine collection of creepy short stories. 

My day will be filled with imploring various individuals to review the book. Like moving from one apartment to another, you must ask three or four times as many people to get one. Such are the days of an indie author.

Merry Christmas 2020!

A Spiritual Christmas

Peace on Earth, Goodwill Towards Men 

Not a very modern subhead, but heartfelt. God bless one and all this fine day. 

Death Honk Short Horror Story Collection Now Live

 Murder! Mystery! Mayhem!

Sooner than I thought and just in time for Christmas, Death Honk launches on Amazon. This nine story anthology of dark and ominous doings, revenge, stupid brutality, transformation and justice awaits purchase and perusal. Still discounted over at Barnes & Noble, Apple, and other nice stores.

The paperback version advances with governmental torpor. The man formatting it lives in Pakistan. The cover artist can do no more until Pakistan delivers up the finished version and I have a page count. But these are small guppy-sized problems. 

May your days be merry and bright!

Now Lurking on Amazon!

Matt McAvoy Reviews Death Honk Short Story Collection

Discount Pre-Order Now!

"Mac is a fine writer, with a tremendously twisted sense of justice, injustice and just desserts." —Matt McAvoy

Take a peek over at author Matt McAvoy's blog as he reviews Death Honk. My collection of mostly short horror stories—with a bit of crime thrown in for ballast—launches December 26 on Amazon, Apple, Barnes and Noble and other ebook emporiums. Discounted now in pre-order, the book's paperback versions are slated to release January 5. 

And if the mood strikes you, join my email acquisition effort and receive the Top 5 Dating Tips of H.P. Lovecraft. He was different, he was odd, he was a New England chick magnet. Stay plugged in as I labor away on volume two of my Hallow Mass trilogy. 

So many important things to mention, all involving myself and my writing. Now I'm tired, but must edit the formatted docx. for the Amazon paperback. Then rewrite the back cover author bio. Then update all the metadata on Amazon and Draft2Digital. 

Stay safe in this Chinese Covid madness. Today is the shortest day of the year. Tell a friend!

Top 5 Dating Tips of H.P. Lovecraft

The Booty King

The Creepy Horror Writer? 

Yes, the very same. Now, for the first time ever, you may obtain a free pdf listing the smoking hot insight and moves that makes the name "Lovecraft" synonymous with "chick magnet."

All it will cost is your email. A small price to pay for the carnal knowledge nuggets awaiting you from the author of "The Call of Cthulhu," "The Dunwich Horror" and other eerie tales. 

Yes, I Want! Do I Proceed by the Light of a Gibbous Moon?

Fortunately, the Internet is not on a lunar cycle so it's easier than that. Faster, too. In fact, snagging these free steamy hacks is simpler than finding a poet in a madhouse. Click over to this site—landing page, actually—then click a big button. (Mind your spam folder.) You're in the pipeline, not just for H.P., but also for intelligence such as this:

Book Cover Design Services

DEATH HONK LAUNCHES!

My dark fantasy collection of stories written over the last decade—some of you have sampled the selection—is now available in ebook form over on Apple, Barnes & Noble's Nook, Kobo—for my English-speaking friends in other lands—and Angus and Roberston, serving the reading needs of Down Under for any number of years. And more markets are inbound!

Stories of fright, crime, retribution, poetic justice, idiocy in high places, are on discount pre-order this very moment up to the official launch date of December 26. Then add a buck. 

Death Honk, in sturdy ebook format, will be on sale December 26 at Amazon. (I could've preordered on Amazon via Kindle Direct Publishing, but then my book is exclusive to the Amazon colossus for three months. Since they only control 90% of the book market, they can do that. In my small way, I have objected.)

Softcover versions should be out shortly in early January. 

Brandi Doane McCann—oddly enough, not a relative—designed the cover art. Visit her site over at Book Cover Design Services. Scroll down and admire Death Honk amidst the other fine cover art. Brother and sister writers, you could do much worse than allowing Brandi to design your cover. 

And with that, I bid you a healthy and happy fifteenth day of December. God speed on your many tasks and obligations.

Paul Rugg and I are Hired at Warner Bros. v. 4

 

And I Have the Memories to Prove It

Today, December 16, marked 27 years since Paul Rugg and I were offered jobs at Warner Brothers TV Animation. We were over at Paul's house watching Zontar: Thing From Venus, drinking coffee, eating chocolate donuts, and smoking. We'd just turned in scripts for some new show called Animaniacs. (Mine was "Draculee, Draculaa.") Paul's wife was off earning money as a social worker, while my future wife was still employed at the magazine I'd quit two months earlier. Rugg and I were performing improv and sketch comedy at the Acme Comedy Theatre. (Along with cast member Adam Carolla.) Money was very tight. The payment for one script would really help out my Christmas. 

Then Kathy Page, Tom Ruegger's assistant, called to offer us staff jobs and the trajectory of our lives veered sharply into an unexplored cosmos.

We were amazed, stunned, numb. Walking outside, we smoked more and talked it over. Should we take the jobs or would they pollute our comedy pureness by turning it commercial? We would accept the work immediately. 

Now it all seems opaque. If it weren't for the Web and talking to Paul Rugg yesterday, I'd swear the whole experience never happened. But I'm glad it did. (Paul, too.)  So thanks to Tom and Sherri Stoner. (And her husband, M.D. Sweeney, our Acme director, who recommended us.)

Note: After thirteen years of blogging, I'm running out of life events to chronicle.

Notes: 2019

A little hyperbole last year. I have plenty of life events and more on the way. Now then, Paul's episode was about a pet shop, I believe. In 1991 I wrote on a Mac Classic. (They look so quaint now, like a fancy radio from 1938.) Jeffrey Dahmer, Silence of the Lambs, Thelma and Louise, the unraveling of the Soviet Union and the number of computers on the newly commercialized Web reached one million.

Not mine, but similar.

Notes: 2020

What a year! (Wednesday will be 29 years, but close enough.) Pandemics, riots, politics. It's like 1968 on crystal meth. What's new? Well. You can now obtain the Top 5 Dating Tips of H.P. Lovecraft. Yes, that weird horror guy. For details, go to this nifty spot. 

Famous People Born on My Birthday v. 6

What is different today from 2018, the last year I asked that rhetorical question? last year? Other than the Chinese COVID virus, riots, shut-downs, controversial elections? Well, my health is hanging in there. Facebook and I don't get along very well anymore. 

And I'm preparing to publish a collection of short horror stories due out December 26 in ebook form on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Apple, Kobo and more. I've got a dandy cover and just need an editorial review to ignite the soft cover publication. (Click here to leave your email and I'll let you know the when's and where's.)

These people were also born on December 5th. Mostly giddy-looking young people , how many have you heard of? Here's a more mature list. A fine weekend to all!

Thank you very much to all who have, so far, wished me Happy Birthday. In thinking of this day, I am reminded of several famous Americans who share my date of birth. I will list three and examine their accomplishments as compared to mine.

1. Martin Van Buren - b. Dec. 5, 1782

2. George Armstrong Custer - b. Dec. 5, 1839

3. Walt Disney - b. Dec. 5, 1901

4. John P. McCann - b. Dec. 5, 1952

1. Martin Van Buren succeeded greatly in becoming the 8th President of the United States but was hardly remembered even in his own day. He had a large bull frog stuffed and used as an ink well in the White House. However President Taft later sat on it by accident and they had to throw the thing out. That's about it.

2. George Armstrong Custer succeeded greatly as a soldier in the Civil War but had a mixed record fighting Indians. (1-1-2, I think.) He is best remembered for his  spectacular fail at the Battle of the  Little Big Horn. At first, everything was going well; then it all fell apart under an Indian tsunami. In later years, Custer had a park named after him as well as a monument and a movie where his part was played by Errol Flynn. That's a whole lot more than Van Buren ever got.

3. Walt Disney succeeded greatly in animation, a pioneer in the field, creator of iconic characters—but not the word 'iconic' which has been seized upon by junior execs.—established Disney studios and Disneyland and is fondly remembered to this day. Nonetheless his body is frozen in a vault beneath Disney's Burbank lot and should Walt be reanimated and start making decisions again it could effect his legacy.

4. John P. McCann was greatly successful as a Hollywood atmosphere player. McCann was the ship-board stand-in for a Canadian actor portraying Errol Flynn in My Wicked, Wicked Ways. In addition, he is visible catching Dennis Quaid's jacket at around 1:19 in a clip from  Great Balls of Fire.
More successful in animation, McCann created the non-iconic character of The Huntsman. For the next fifteen years, he piggy-backed onto as many successful shows as his friends would allow. While the record is still being written, outsiders agree that McCann will be remembered by Bank of America and several other creditors who might reasonably feel aggrieved should he pass from the scene within the next several months.

Images: whitehouse.gov, Parcbench, fold3

Hot New eBook Cover

 

 Photo by Emily Morter

Why place a question mark on a collection of short horror stories? I'm not. But since Draft2Digital bounced my old cover for murky reasons, I've been compelled to commission a new one. So far, I'm liking the new direction.

Still trouble with Facebook. Now it requires a new password every time I try to log in, insisting that the current p-word is old or unrecognizable. Every time. Even if I just changed it the last time I logged onto either my personal account and/or author page. Every stinking time.

Click Contact Me on my JP Mac website. Send an email and I'll fill you in on launch details. I'm still thinking an ebook release on December 26 on Amazon and Draft2Digital. Softcover books should be along around mid-January 2021.

Other than that, everything's dishy.

Fifteen Years Ago on Thanksgiving Day

Ancient Blogging: 2005

Yes, the Internet Existed Then

I was living in a house and training for my first marathon. I'd been blogging for ten days at this point and didn't think much of it.  Here's what I had to say:

This morning I met some chums from Team in Training. We ran a 5K (3.1 mile) race in La Cañada, a northern LA suburb. I'd driven through there several times. The little hills sloped gradually, so it appeared. I predicted EZ running. Oh, they were sly, unpleasant hills. Steeper than they looked. Finish-time eaters. If it were possible, I'd cuff them sharply. 

This was very much a neighborhood race: families, parents with strollers, teenage girls running five across, and people running with leashed dogs — which I don't get. Walk the dog or run the race. Later, Ronald MacDonald — clown, spokesman, bon vivant — led youngsters in a warm up prior to a children's race. After that, a child warmed up Ronald MacDonald prior to a fast food spokesman's race. In any event, Happy Thanksgiving!

Despite sore arthritic knees, I'm grateful for the many good things in my life. And I still wish you all a Happy Thanksgiving!

Facebook-Writing-Running Updates Galore

 Let's be clear: Facebook still sucks. I believe my Ad Blocker is the reason they're giving me so much grief of late. (This would be the Ad Blocker I've been using for years.) I can no longer administer my JP Mac Author Page without being told I need a new email. Once I change the email, I'm informed I need a new email. They task me, these beetling tech people, skulking behind their algorithms.

Look to the right of this page. You will see the title for Death Honk. My collection of nine short stories will go live on December 26. What an excellent chance to use the Christmas gift cards received from relatives too busy to inquire what you actually enjoy. Amazon goes live on that date. But thanks to Draft2Digital, there will be a preorder sale starting next week for purchases on on Barnes & Noble, Apple, Kobo and other sites. In the next few days I'll provide compelling information on how to interact with these mysterious, weird, shocking, humorous tales.

Now let your eyes stray down from the book cover. You will see a listing for Pages. There will be two listings. One will read: On the Road with JP Mac. After many years, I've created a separate page for my running updates. Visit, note the incidents, comment if you will. Change is in the air and in my pockets, jiggling merrily.

Happy B-Day, Devil Dogs!

 

Here's a short article commemorating the Marine Corps on their 235th birthday. Best wishes to all Leathernecks past and present. (Photo: Acclaim Images)    

Note: A decade has passed since the above post, hence 245th birthday would be more appropriate. 

Facebook Sucks

My author page is flawed. Click on it and see if you're taken to JP Mac's Author Page. You might be. Or you might see a page for Facebook business. 

This nonsense has been going on for months. The page won't load. I'm not allowed to administer. A stinking Facebook business page appears. My password is not recognized. My new password is not recognized. Furthermore, I'm not alone. Many small independent businesses are not being allowed in to their pages and can't get a helpful word from Facebook. 

I probably can't get in to cancel my own page.

On Facebook, I AM THE PRODUCT. Here are other depressing reasons why Facebook is no good. 

For now, I'll direct traffic to my website. But there must be something better out there. I will investigate. 

Pinterest 

Conquer Catalina Island Virtual Challenge

Conquer Catalina Island Virtual Challenge: The Conquer Catalina Island Virtual Challenge is on Thursday October 1, 2020 to Thursday December 31, 2020.

I sneered at such activities as a virtual challenge. But in the absence of true road races, my wife, Joy, and I are onboard for a hundred miles. In return for our efforts, we receive durable electronic trophies plus a tee-shirt.

What's amazing is that even a fey virtual challenge goads my big ass out of the chair and onto the road. I'm running a bit more per week, gradually increasing speed.

So on we go. I'm over 30 miles, a quarter finished. Updates here on this fine blog. 

 

Book Review: The Man in the High Castle

 

The Man in the High Castle by Philip K. Dick
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

President-Elect Franklin Roosevelt is assassinated in Miami. Isolationism dominates American politics. The Nazis prevail in North Africa and link up with the Japanese in India. Russia collapses. Washington D.C. disintegrates under a Nazi hydrogen bomb. World War II ends in 1947 with Germany, Japan (and Italy) victorious.

Such is the world of 1962 San Francisco where curio salesman Robert Childan labors to please his mostly Japanese clients. Among them are Nobusuke Tagomi, an influential trade minister whose career is guided by the ancient Chinese book of divination, the I Ching.

Also dependent on the book's forecasts is judo instructor Juliana Frink. She lives in a puppet buffer zone between the Japanese West Coast and the German-controlled Mid-West, South and East. An encounter with a man claiming to be an Italian truck driver leads Juliana to read a fascinating—yet banned—book in which the allies win the second world war.

Using rapid POV shifts, Dick whisks us between characters as Juliana's husband struggles back in San Francisco to manufacture original jewelry while hiding his Jewish blood. At the same time, Juliana and the truck driver set off on a road trip to locate the banned book's author. Meanwhile, Tagomi facilitates a meeting between Japanese and German intermediaries working to derail a diabolical plot that could plunge the world into another terrible war.

Dick parcels out the backstory while keeping the narrative hot. His shifts in POV sometimes lost me, as did his stylized dialogue for certain inner monologues. And I wasn't sure what role the I-Ching played, other than to suggest the future is fluid, other worlds possible.

As one character mulls, "Evidently we go on, as we always have. . . . But we cannot do it all at once; it is a sequence. An unfolding process. We can only control the end by making a choice at each step."

Great alternative history with a tart blend of science fiction and mysticism.

View all my reviews

Book Review: The Disappeared

 

The Disappeared by Roger Scruton
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

In and around the Angel Towers housing project five lives intertwine: two men, two women, and a young girl. In a decaying society, these characters seek safety, freedom, love, and meaning. Around them, the customs and traditions of England are being overwritten by multiculturalism, as well as dark new practices that exploit the gaps in a society struggling with mass immigration from tribal cultures.

Powerful and disturbing, this fiction weaves together the characters' fates in a world where the past is fading and the future seems dismally opaque. As teacher Stephen concludes, "The Christian religion, he decided, was the heart of our civilization. This heart had grown old and weak, and culture had been put in the place of it. But the heart transplant didn't take, and our civilization, after gasping for a while, had died."

Stephen finds himself drawn toward protecting a young student, Sharon, from a rape gang. In doing so, he soon experiences emotional conflict that, if unchecked, could destroy his career and land him in jail.

At the same time, Justin, a rising star in the field of green energy, becomes enamored with beautiful intelligent Muhibbah. Having spurned her Afghan family's suffocating ways, Muhibbah seemed destined to excel in modern society. But Justin soon learns, that this enchanting woman is a hive of unwholesome secrets.

At the same time, accountant Laura flees the embers of a dashed romance, going to work for Justin. But her safety is jeopardized after a criminal element mistakes Laura for another woman.

Scruton's deep, well-crafted tale eventually comes full-circle. And while I had some difficulty with the time frame, and the puzzling use of second person for one character, the author's ability to forge empathy was excellent.

The writing is powerful. The imagery strong as in this passage describing Angel Towers: "All the surfaces were covered with the same black graffiti, a repeated pattern that, in its meaninglessness, seemed to exude a bestial anger. It was as though worms had been spat on this wall, spoiling its unclaimed spaces, and preventing any human thought from breeding there."

A suitable read for lovers of literature, as well as a good book for discussions of our post-modernist world.

View all my reviews

Awesome News Site Proves You're Always Right

Ryan Long introduces the ultimate news page that dispenses with old school truth, objectivity and facts to unearth what really counts online: always being spot-on politically. 

Ryan Long

Publishing . . . and Other Forms of Insanity and the Public Square

 Erica Verrillo puts out a blog called Publishing. . . and Other Forms of Insanity. I like this blog. I look forward to it every month. As a writer, I appreciate this trove of writing and publishing information, updated regularly. I sold a short story last year thanks to a tip on Erica's blog.

But this month on page one, instead of publishers seeking unagented manuscripts or best places to have a crime novel reviewed, Erica chose to editorialize. (And why not? It's her blog.) As Erica prefaced in "Art Does Not Apologize . . . And Neither Do I":

Over the past three and a half years, I have gotten a number of comments regarding my critical stance on Trump, expressed mildly at the top of my blog with the statement: ". . . in the interest of protecting the 1st Amendment, she did not vote for Trump." I've been repeatedly admonished, sometimes with a great deal of anger, to "just stick to writing." Politics, I have been told, should have no place on my blog.

Erica chose to believe she was being told to mind her own business and not speak out. Erica then proceeded to speak out.

I think she may've missed the point her readers were making.

The cobbler who repairs your shoes under a banner proclaiming his political opinions is inviting comment. The sign outside might say, "Cobbler Shop. Shoes Fixed." It probably doesn't say, "Cobbler Shop. Shoes Fixed. Plus Free Political Opinions." You want your footwear resoled. The political opinion, then, feels gratuitous, since you entered the shop for one reason and found yourself subjected to question-begging statements that had nothing to do with your original business.

George Orwell wrote, "If liberty means anything at all, it means the right to tell people what they do not want to hear."

Erica is free to editorialize politically on a publishing blog.

Her readers are free to present their thoughts on such a mash-up.

If liberty is to mean anything at all.

Dark Anthology Finally Coming Soon

 MAC'S DONE IT!

Six years ago I was convinced that I'd publish a dark anthology. A dark urban anthology. In fact, I was writing like a dervish, churning out copy at a rapid rate. But then Old Man Cancer came a'knocking and my writing—along with my health—cratered.

Well, my health is much improved and the copy is finally churned; nine stories at the starting gate with an eye to a December release. (Ebook only with the softcover arriving—God willing—in spring of 2021.) The stories do not match my 2014 line-up. Not all the tales occur in an urban setting. Nonetheless, in many respects, readers will benefit, thanks to a half dozen more years writing practice.

Right now I'm hustling to finish the front and back matter as well as seeing the 31,000-plus word manuscript receives a copy edit. 

At the same time, I'm setting up preorders on Amazon and Smashwords.

At the same time, I hustle for reviews.

Here's a draft of the blurb:

Mayhem, Monsters, Madness! 

Trespass boundaries, stray into eerie dimensions, mingle with the sinister and the lost in nine peculiar tales by award-winning author JP Mac. 

 Meet a naïve publisher drawn onto a path that could lead to the annihilation of Earth. Witness a high school student pay a crippling price for popularity. Watch a struggling director’s pursuit of a mysterious woman lead to enslavement in a twilight realm. Travel to a bizarre sporting event where a desperate young man must choose between self-respect or cosmic absurdity. 

 Five stories were published between 2010 and 2019, while an additional four were written especially for this collection. So park your body and throw your imagination into drive as weird adventures await.

***

More on this latest publishing odyssey quite soon.

Oh, and, at the same time, I shall keep writing another short story. One single-spaced page a day. 

Flintridge Bookstore Promotes "Prostate" Memoir

 See? Look!

What fine, noble booksellers! Help a store keep their head above water. If you're afoot in the hills above LA, then stop in. Or visit their website. You may not choose to purchase my book, but do buy something and help stop Amazon from notching another bookstore on their belt.  

Book Review: The Fall of Paris 1870 - 71

 

The Fall of Paris: The Siege and the Commune 1870-71 by Alistair Horne
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

In the late 19th century, a torpid, decadent France chose to boost its sagging prestige by declaring war on Prussia. Germany of the day was a loose federation of kingdoms led by Prussia's Kaiser Wilhem under the guidance of Bismarck. The Second Empire under Napoleon III assumed the conflict would be short and victorious.

However the French army was routed and the city of Paris besieged. The Second Empire fell, giving way to a republican government. Relying on accounts of those inside the city, Horne tells a tale of hope and patriotic bombast that gave way to starvation, eventual defeat, and the brief bloody rise of a predominately leftist government of Jacobins, Marxists, and other anti-Bonapartists. They were known as the Commune.

Following acceptance of Prussian peace terms, the republican government was forced to flee to Versaillies to escape the Commune's wrath. From there, the French government counter-attacked. With the support of the army, they now besieged Paris once again. The Commune dissolved into squabbling factions. Armed workers defended their neighborhoods as the military attempted to regain control over the fractious capital.

Hornes use of contemporaneous accounts allows the reader insights into what the inhabitants of Paris thought, ate—or didn't eat—felt, and desired. There's a great deal on the French use of balloons during the Prussian siege to communicate with unoccupied France and the rest of Europe. Less may've been more. The same goes for Horne's regular inclusion of French sentences minus translations. But the book tells the story well and notes the historical echoes that reverberated from the twin events of war and Commune.

Given the harsh peace treaty, the Franco-Prussian War planted the seeds for future, more devastating conflicts that saw France invaded in 1914 and invaded and conquered twenty-six years later. In addition, the lessons of the Commune were keenly absorbed by the Bolshevik Lenin. Fearing feckless factionalism, Lenin outmaneuvered and crushed his allies and ruthlessly butchered his foes. As Horne writes, "How much of the ferocious brutality with which the Russian Reds fought for survival was attributable to the ever-present memory of May 1871 . . . . (The date the Commune fell.)

"Fall" is part of a hat trick written by Horne on the Franco-German wars from the late 19th to the mid 20th century. He touches on the First World War in his chronicle of the 1916 battle of Verdun. The Second World War is covered in an account of France's rapid collapse in 1940.

History buffs will enjoy this.

View all my reviews

9/11 Recalled 2020

 

K called from Florida, "Planes crashed into the World Trade Center and one of the towers just fell." Unemployed in Los Angeles and half asleep at 7:30 AM, I shuffled downstairs to the TV, past Joy as she prepared for work. At first, all I saw was a dirty cloud obscuring southern Manhattan. Then a stunned announcer said the second tower had just collapsed. Joy joined me, work forgotten as we learned of the attack.

Other friends phoned throughout the day. Paul Rugg speculated about the pilots of the doomed aircraft, certain they weren't Americans forced to crash. TJ, a Vietnam vet, was incensed at the footage of jubilant Palestinians with their candy and AK-47s. He wished he could gift them with a nice buttering of napalm. In a grim mood, I agreed.

Watching TV and power-chewing Nicorette, I mostly felt numb — except when the subject was jumpers. Then I felt horror. Go to work, sip coffee, joke with your pals, then decide whether you'll suffocate, burn alive, or leap a quarter mile to certain death. Questions of etiquette arise: jump solo or hold hands with a co-worker? Perhaps several of you link arms and form a chain, finding courage in numbers. Or do you clutch a table cloth and step into the air, desperately hoping it slows your fall?



The journey takes ten seconds.


Air velocity rips away your shoes.


You explode on impact.


I will always be haunted by the jumpers of 9/11.


Oceans of paper were blasted from the towers, filling the New York sky like the Devil's ticker tape. Invoices and wedding invitations floated down to gray sidewalks.

My friend Cathy, who worked in D.C., reported chaos as the government sent everyone home at once following the Pentagon attack. One jammed intersection turned scary as a man leaped out of an SUV brandishing a pistol and attempting to direct traffic.

Being murdered is not a heroic act, though it can be. Flight 93 passengers fought back and died, saving many more in their sacrifice. North Tower Port Authority employees rescued over 70 people before perishing.


There were many heroes that day.

My sister Mary Pat and I had dinner at a coffee shop. She was passing through town, leaving a job in Mountain View, CA to return to Phoenix. Depressed by the day's events, our meal was not jolly.

Later, Joy tried to give blood, but the hospital was overwhelmed with donations and refused.

Vulnerability, grief, dismay, anger.

Such a beautiful morning with a sky so blue.

(Photos from: Little Green Footballs.)

Repost: Sept. 11, 2008

Update: Strange to reread this. TJ died in 2009 and K passed away just over a year ago. My wife, Joy, and I are doing well, as is Paul Rugg who now rides the train. 

Repost: Sept. 11, 2013

Update: I had cancer surgery last year, but recovered. My wife is doing well and my sister battles her own health woes. I have not heard from my friend Cathy in a few years.  Paul Rugg continues riding the train in addition to being a voice over machine.

Repost: Sept. 11, 2015

Update: Paul Rugg's daughter was not quite two years old on 9/11/01. Now she is a freshmen in college. I have retired from TV animation writing, though, as stated elsewhere, I find retirement to be indistinguishable from unemployment. (Save for a small annuity.) And very soon, I shall ride the train to see my sister. (Explanatory post t/k.)

Repost: Sept. 11, 2017

Update: Ten years have passed since I composed this post, 17 years since the incident. Alas, the greatest hit to our nation continues to be a colossal security apparatus that can't seem to function without monitoring everyone's communications, then lying about it. I'd rather not comment on airport theater. Still, my wife remains gainfully employed and I'm racing to complete a dystopian thriller by Christmas. Amidst the great events, the little things carry us forward.

Repost: Sept. 11, 2018

Update: About to publish a softcover version of my prostate book. Meanwhile the Afghanistan Forever War continues. I refuse to believe that for almost 20 years, there's been no better way of fighting the Taliban than sending billions to Pakistan to provide hiding places for them while they infiltrate Afghan government forces and assassinate our advisors. The Byzantine Empire lasted over a thousand years battling multiple enemies on different fronts, employing a combination of diplomacy military prowess, and strategic alliances. With the entrenched, consequence-proof dimwits we have infesting Washington D.C., we'll probably end up surrendering to the Taliban.

Repost: Sept. 11, 2019

Update: How odd to stand on the threshold of twenty years. Given the riots and chaos of the pandemic, the blithering repose of local government re. small-business-killing lockdowns, the event is passing with barely a mention. If I hadn't spotted a NatGeo special on the Twin Towers, I might've forgotten myself. Interesting health issue, with cataract surgery, an upcoming new crown—for a tooth—and the results of a biopsy for skin cancer. Paul Rugg works on a Henson TV show, and his daughter nears the end of her undergrad studies. My sister continues on with NPR in the unburned portion of the Pacific Northwest. I will publish a book of my short stories by Christmas. Joy's work will soon restore her full pay, slashed during the lockdowns. Since South Dakota never locked down at all, shouldn't their population be deader than the Sioux at Wounded Knee? Not all experts are experts.  

Repost: Sept. 11, 2020

John Steinbeck Writing Hacks

Fallen from currency as of late, John Steinbeck's books occupied much of my sophomore English classes. (Grapes of Wrath, of course, as well as the lesser known Winter of Our Discontent.) In the below prompts, Steinbeck suggests the busy man's goal of a page a day. I suppose that would be single-spaced. Depending on how much dialogue, I reach such a mark in anywhere from under an hour to an hour and twenty minutes. In any case, given revisions and all, you should have a novel in a year. Wouldn't that be grand?

VelocityWriting

Ceremony Honors Victim of Senseless Police Violence

 Sure, it all happened a long time ago, but that's no excuse for indifference. Terrorist lives matter! Rest in power!

The Babylon Bee

Is Your Dwelling Sexist?

 An inspection may be necessary to determine if your living space meets current anti-sexist standards.

Ryan Long

Story Du Jour #23

All Story Du Jour tales are available online and free! A small offering in these trying times.

Hike Up Mission Peak

Middle House Review/Height Chart

"Recovery Mission" - by Michael Cocchiarale  

Approx. 1k words

A slog with old friends seeks that which is past but lies between.

Here's a sample of the writing:

"Rocks crunch like breakfast cereal beneath Zac’s boots, and the sound transports him to the butcher block table of his childhood home. There’s a half gallon of milk, a box of Lucky Charms. A Christmas wish book between him and his brother. And there’s music, his mother feeling out a soft, sad number on the upright in the den. It’s a bit lachrymose, this halting tune, the product of a few lessons she’d splurged on in the fall, but it becomes more familiar as she goes. 

 The Michael Stanley Band. 

 Not really, although Zac can’t help imagining it. He turns the thin, vivid pages of the wish book, full of board games, action figures, and race car sets. In the other room, his mother’s fingers plink like rain, figuring it out as she goes. The chords rise through the house, into the winter air and straight up the charts. When Gary turns to him with a smile, Zac lets go of the pictures of dreamed-for toys so his heart can sled across the snow-smooth melody."

Note: Perhaps its time to swap out Du Jour with the French phrase for 'week or two' since that seems to be the publishing time frame. But nothing endures like the temporary. 

My Eyes are Red Hot, Your Eyes Ain't Doodly Squat

 

healing the eye.com

Not to slag your vision, but I'm fresh from cataract surgery and still overwhelmed by the whole experience. Last week in the unlooted portion of Beverly Hills, starting Monday, it was left eye surgery, a woozy ride home courtesy of My Darling Wife—MDW—followed by a check-up on Tuesday. Because my pupils were so dilated, I was given massive, all-encompassing sunglasses that made me appear enroute to observe a thermonuclear blast. 

Wednesday ushered in surgery on my right eye, a second woozy ride home and erosion of vision for small print. On Thursday, there was another check-up with the fast-healing left eye, with the right eye blurry, but gradually sharpening in quality. 

I asked the doctor why I suddenly noticed more blues and whites in the light. Apparently, my yellowish cataracts blocked those bands of the spectrum. Still, its off putting to walk outside and see gradations of light others can't. I feel like an 80-year-old on LSD. 

If you followed my last major surgery, you can probably guess that my anxiety levels were in the red. I was surprised how smooth the procedure was. For the moment, I must take, what feels like, a bucket of eye drops a day. But its small change compared to the bitching mid-to-long range vision I now enjoy.  

An Apology re. the Comment Section

huffingtonpost

Like the self-centered person that I am, I've neglected reader comments. I stink. Google changed the interface. Where I used to be emailed when there was a comment to check, that is no longer so. Out of inbox, out of mind. 

And so I apologize, especially to Authors 4 Characters who has been tireless in observations and annotations. 

Over the coming weeks, I will respond to the bulk of the remarks.

Henceforth, I vow to be a more thoughtful blog lord.

Unless Google messes again with the algorithms. 

Glass Ceiling Still Exists in Enhanced Interrogations

 Ryan Long probes for answers as to why women face exclusion in the torture profession.

Ryan Long

Cataract Surgery: The Eyes Have It

 

The New Daily

Well, here we go again. A new decade, a new operation. This time my cataracts are turning the world into a soft milky blur. The eye surgeon gave me two choices: Medicare Eyes, in which a popular government program would pay for most everything. My opaqueness would be removed, but I'd still need glasses, etc. 

Or the Cadillac Eyes. In this case, extra special lens are placed in my eyes eliminating my far sightedness save for reading glasses. Of course, that costs out-of-pocket. But, as my wife pointed out, they can only go in and muck about with your eyes one time. So, we'll pony up for the cool orbs and that will be that. 

Keep me in your prayers this Monday and Wednesday. I'll update soon. 

Book Review: Military Sci-Fi/Fantasy Anthology

 

Cannon Publishing Military Sci-Fi / Fantasy Anthology: Spring 2019 by J.F. Holmes
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Uniformed men and women clash with foes both timeless and disturbingly new in this collection of short stories mashing the military with elements of sci-fi, fantasy, and horror. Editor/contributor J.F. Holmes has assembled  thirteen tales ranging in craftsmanship from "excellent" to "needs work."

You'll find an eclectic mix of settings from alternate history to deep space to contemporary conflicts as front-line fighters encounter the bizarre and alien, sprinkled with yarns featuring rear-area "fobbits" who find themselves thrust into the confusion and chaos of combat. Alas, a few offerings seemed little more than scenes, lacking a clear beginning, middle and end. In addition, there were editing and formatting glitches that detracted from the readings.

Deserving of mention are:

"Dragon Slayer" by Alex Piasecki
"Damage Control" by Lucas Marcum
"The Nothing" by Chris Morton
"The Gunpowder Incident" by James Schardt

I particularly enjoyed "Night Shift" by Yakov Merkin who included a nice dollop of 'science' with his sci-fi story of a bored, space sailor with health problems who finds himself the only one capable of alerting his comrades in the face of an enemy attack.

Some enjoyable reads for aficionados of military and military sci-fi fiction.

View all my reviews

The Ukulele Orchestra Tackles Shaft Theme Song

 A sensitive rendering of the iconic film score. 

Ukulele Orchestra

Story Du Jour #22

All Story Du Jour tales are available online and free! A small offering in these trying times.

Zocalo

"Freak Season" - by L.A. Pontes

Approx. 584 words

What the heck is happening to Reed's town?

Here's a sample of the writing:

"Something spooky and supernatural had hit his hometown hard. The frantic flow of explanations ranged from the town’s remote location in the hill country, to the strange quality of the water. Plus nuclear tests, an allegedly ancient witch tradition—that nobody had ever heard before—and, oh yes, the freaky El Nino. Reed hadn’t seen a normal human being in days. 

 Suddenly, the cloud took a left turn out of the gully and rolled up a grassy hill. At the crest, the cloud unraveled once more into the mist and faded into thin strips of fog. Reed’s eyes bugged. In the center of the hill stood a strange figure. The thing was humanoid, no doubt, but short and with a bulbous head, perfectly round, like a little aquarium. The bulb-headed thing lifted a thin arm and a tiny finger as though it dialed a phone. A spaceship materialized on the ridge."

Finally, a return to a truly short tale. 

Note: A bit late, but my review of the Google Archipelago is up at last. 

Comedians Battle Comedic Oppression

 

Once again, Ryan Long leads the way, suppressing fellow comics who refuse to squash the chuckles least someone be offended. 

Ryan Long