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Blog 28.
A story of mine titled "The Short Story" was accepted for the current edition of the online journal Exquisite Corpse. I submiited it almost two years ago and had forgotten about until I received word that it was to be published. Exquisite Corpse is located in New Orleans and like almost everyone else its business was disrupted by Katrina. This is the first issue since the storm.
To see the story go to:
http://www.corpse.org/content/view/71/1/
or go to my Lit.Org profile and click on the link.
p.s.
I posted the story on Lit.Org on 1/19/05. It was titled "About Dad".
Blog 27.
12/04/07
I happy to report that today marks the 3rd anniversary of my first post on Lit.Org (a poem titled “Someone wrote a poem for me”). I now consider it my internet home. I discovered Lit.Org while posting on Craigslist and decided to check it out. I spent a couple of weeks reading different posts and getting a feel for the website. Then I decided to join…three years ago today.
There are many things I appreciate about this website. I like how the home page is setup and managed. For the last three years I have tried to keep at least one item on the home page…I wasn’t completely successful - but it certainly helped me to focus and be creative.
I also like the fact that lots of different statistics are available if you are interested. For instance, here are my top 10 posts for the last three years:
1) The Poetry Home Repair Manual (book review) – 1418 views
2) Experimental Book Review (book review) – 1302 views
3) Neil Young: Heart of Gold (review) – 1231 views
4) Sunrise. Sunday Morning (#4) (blog entry) – 1136 views
5) The Flaming Lips ‘At War’ (review) – 1131 views
6) Jagged Little Pill Acoustic (review) – 1124 views
7) Bukowski: Born Into This (review) – 1117 views
8) Meet The Scottsdales (short story) – 1031 views
9) The Family (book review) – 1029 views
10) Sunrise. Sunday Morning (#12) (blog entry) – 1007 views
I want to take this opportunity to thank the good folks who operate Lit.Org. It has offered me untold hours of satisfaction and entertainment.
Blog 26.
On Father's Day.
This is the first Father's Day I will spend without my father. Dad died of pneumonia on August 22, 2006, after suffering for almost a decade from the insidious degerative effects of Parkinson's disease. He was 81.
Dad was an intelligent man - he authored a text book on electrical engineering and accumulated a small fortune through prudent investing. He was also a talented artist and had a life-long passion for the piano. Dad was a much continted man in the last half of his life; he stopped drinking and smoking and became an active member of his church. The only vice he induldged in was an obsession for conservitive politics.
Unfortunately, however, my father and I were never close. As a young man - a young father - my dad was a distant angry man. As a child I was unable to understand why he was so unhappy. In my young mind I presumed the problem was me and I dealt with the situation by withdrawing into a lonesome fantasy world. My parents rarely argued in front of me, but I can only guess how my mother handled my father's dark moods.
I harbored a deep resentment of my father. I finally escaped by enlisting in the Army. I didn't say goodbye.
As the years passed and my father changed, so did my attitude about him. I became influenced by the philosophy of the noted psychiatrist Dr. David Viscott, and forgave my father. My family and I were suprised by how many people attended dad's funeral. I believe he would have been suprised too. I plan to visit his grave today and share some time with him.
Blog 25.
Sunrise. Sunday Morning.
1). I am slowly getting drunk this morning on a nice bottle of Syrah. I plan on washing that down later with some St. Pauli Girl. I guess I have a touch of meancholia. I was meandering thru YouTube this morning and stumbled across this video by Elton John - it's kind of a nice wine-drunk-sunday-morning-video:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WtuBh4iyAvQ
2). I took Cindi to see the movie "Bug" last night - is was a damn train wreck! "Bug" is astonishingly bad, it's unremittingly bad, it's indescribably bad, it's insatiably bad, it's hilariously bad! Seriously, "Bug" is bad movie making on a Biblical scale.
We went to see it because it stars Ashley Judd...we wanted to see her naked. Well, we did see her naked (at the very end), but by then the only thing we were thinking was: "Ashley needs to shave her beaver, Mrs. Cleaver."
The only saving grace in "Bug" is the performance by Harry Connick Jr.
After it was over a small group of us gathered in front of the empty screen and decided to tell all our friends that "Bug" is the best film we have ever seen and that they must see it as soon as possible - then they will feel as ripped-off and foolish as we feel (well, on second thought, maybe that's a cruel idea). "Bug" is that bad!
3). Not long ago I finished reading the best book I have ever read: "Middlesex" by Jeffrey Eugenides. I'll will write a review of it some time.
4). Current reading:
The Colossus of Maroussi - Henry Miller
Winesburg, Ohio - Sherwood Anderson
Henry and June: the unexprugated diary - Anais Nin
Blog 24.
March 3, 2007.
I went walking tonight. The moon was heavy and full, almost too bright. I was thinking about some things:
Texas,
vacant houses people leave with all the lights on,
my brother,
wine,
cats,
my vacation next week...
I was also thinking about a short story I want to write called "The Request Line." It's the erotic story of a disc jockey named Charlie Grease, and his sexual conquests via the request line at the local rock radio station where he works. I haven't written a word of the story yet, but I have composed the disclaimer:
WARNING: The following story is merely an excuse to describe scenes of gratuitous sex in pornographic detail. Many readers may find it disturbing...everyone one else will be whipped into an orgiastic furry.
Blog 23.
I can't believe it - but this is the first Christmas season in well over 20 years that I haven't heard that damned song, "Grandma got run over by a Reindeer."
I used to like it. I think it was 1980, maybe 81. I was working at a radio station in Medford, Oregon (KMED). We played the hell out it.
It was written by a fellow named Randy Brooks. He was in a band but the guys wouldn't perform the song because it was so weird. In 1979 Brooks met this veterinarian/folk singer from San Francisco named Dr. Elmo Shropshire and sold it to him for $500.
Elmo recorded the song and pressed 500 copies for friends, family, ect. One of his friends passed it along to someone at KSFO in San Francisco and they started playing it. Every year it just got bigger and bigger until 1984, when Elmo and Patsy (husband and wife) signed a big recording contract with CBS records, and the rest, as they say, is history.
It's become the biggest selling Christmas novelty record of all time...and I haven't heard once this year.
There is a God.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.
Blog 22.
On Sunday morning, October 15th, at 9:14am I finished reading Henry Miller's "Big Sur and the Oranges of Hieronymus Bosch." I've been hacking away at it for months (see "Sunrise. Someday Morning. (18)" below).
To celebrate I had a glass of merlot; and then another; and then another. Before I knew it, things were getting a little foggy. One of these days I'm going to sit down and write about my impressions of the book. Finishing it was rather an emotional moment. No, I didn't break down and cry. But Henry Miller's writing was something of a revelation to me. It's going to take some time to sort it all out. I want to do a good job of it.
Cindi and I had sex Saturday night (10/14/06). It's been about 10 months. I got a great room at a nice hotel. We had some drinks and went out for an appetizer at a mexican restaurant. Later that night, we were lying around talking when she made some sort of rude comment. It started an argument. Around 3am I'd had enough and we went our seperate ways. All in all, it was a very typical evening for us.
I'm currently reading a lot of poetry: Billy Collins (good stuff), Tony Hoagland (limp-wristed stuff), William Notter (not bad stuff), and Rodney Jones' "Salvation Blues" - the stuff Jones writes is a perfect example of why most people do not read poetry. I spent $25.00 on this goddamn book and I'm seriously considering asking the publisher for a refund.
I recently discovered a fine NPR program and website called "The Writer's Almanac."
Blog 21.
Several months ago (5/7/06 to be exact), I posted a blog titled "Sunrise. Someday Morning (19)." I announced that a small publication had agreed to publish a poem I'd written. Well, it's happened.
Yesterday, I received a complimentary copy of POETALK: winter/spring 2006 - this issue includes my poem, "The Phone Call." Established in 1974, POETALK is the offical publication of the Bay Area Poets Coalition, Berkley, California.
POETALK editor, Maggie Morley, published the poem on the condition that I agree to some small edits. I posted "The Phone Call" on Lit.Org, 11/18/05:
See for yourself - here's the difference.
The Phone Call - posted 11/18/05 Lit.Org.
I don't recall her words exactly,
but I heard the sound of my dying father
in the voice of my mother this morning.
I wore mom's voice like a heavy black coat
all day. And then, just now, I removed it and placed it
om my bed and I sat down beside it and wept.
The Phone Call - published 2006 POETALK.
I don't recall her words exactly,
but I heard the sound of my dying father
in the voice of my mother this morning.
I wore Mom's voice like a black coat
all day. Just now, I removed it, placed it
on my bed, sat down beside it and wept.
I perfer the original (but the edited version is growing on me).
I am currenly reading the magazine "Poetry: July/Augest 2006, the humor issue." I'm going to writing a letter to the editor about my impressions.
Sunrise. Someday Morning (20).
Cindi and I spent most of Saturday night (8-5-06) in downtown Los Angeles - she wanted to have dinner at the Farmer's Market, and I wanted to visit 5124 De Longpre Ave - one of Charles Bulowski's early residences.
Bukowski lived on De Longpre from late 1964 until the middle of 1973. ...read more
Sunrise. Someday Morning (19).
A small poetry magazine has agreed to publish one of my poems. I am very excited about it. I feel so...so...writerish - I am seriously considering growing a beard and becoming a homosexual. It's so amazing. Two years ago I couldn't even spell the word "librettist" - now I are one.
Unfortunatly, my happiness is bittersweet: The editor of the magazine wanted to edit the poem for publication. At first I was indignate at the idea of anyone tampering with "My Art." I discussed the problem with my friend, Connie. "Well," she said with a blank look on her face, "isn't that what an editor is supposed to do? edit things?" Connie was right, of course (she always is). I relented and gave my permission to revise the poem - beggars, as they say, cannot be choosers.
The ironic thing about all of this is that I haven't had a poetic idea in almost two months - except of a couple of lame titles ("A Drunken T.V. Dream," and "Light Weight Ammunition for the Hippies") I have been dry as a bone. But I continue to write. My next goal is to have a short story published.
As mentioned above - the poetry magazine has "agreed" to publish my poem; it hasn't happened yet. If it does, I will post the news. Here.
POST SCRIPT: Current reading.
Donald Barthelme's "40 Stories" and "Sixty Stories."
"The Complete Stories of Truman Capote."
Jim DeRogatis' "Staring in Sound: the true story of Oklahoma's fabulous Flaming Lips."*
Henry Miller's "Big Sur." (I'm up to page 156!)
* I have posted a review of the Flaming Lips' new album in the "review" section of Lit.Org.
Sunrise. Someday Morning (18).
Wednesday. 5:30 a.m.
I'm happy to report that I'm into the third day of my annual two week late-winter vacation. The weather has been just fine - dark, cold, and rainy. Seriously, I'm very pleased by the weather - it's preventing me from doing some of the yard work I really need to ...read more
Sunrise. Someday Morning (17).
PACIFIC STANDARD TIME.
Today has been a little
off
for me. It's
the first day of
Pacific Standard Time
and
it's taken me by suprise.
It's rained all day since breakfast
and I don't know what time it is
because I took off my watch.
So
I've decided not to walk the dog. Her name
is Sam. She's a golden retriever. Even
Sam doesn't know what to think.
Sunrise. Someday Morning (16).
Mars is being chased across the sky by Orion; I'm going for a walk this morning and have a good long look.
4:36 a.m.
j.jd.
Sunrise. Someday Morning (15).
I was driving around yesterday and the weather could not have been finer. I was on my way to the liquor store to pick-up some beer when I turned on the radio to N.P.R. (National Public Radio) and caught the very end of an interview with Neil Young - he's promoting the release of his latest album, ...read more
Sunrise. Someday Morning (14).
September 11, 2005.
Once upon a time I was a military man. Early in 1971, I enlisted in the Army for three years. I went through basic training and advanced infantry training at Fort Ord, Ca. This just happened to be the time when the United States was beginning its ...read more
sunrise. someday morning (13).
wow, i sure haven't done this for a while, but here i am at the end of a week long vacation and i thought i'd sit down here to see what happens.
it's all gone by so very fast: what have i done?
well, i drank a little wine (merlot), i smoked a little weed (thanks ...read more
sunrise. someday morning. (12)
i recently posted a book review in this forum: bob flaherty's "Puff." if i could i would rewrite it. my view of that book has changed now that i've had some time to think about it.
"Puff," is the whimiscal story of two brothers facing the death of their parents. the suface story would have you believe that john and gully are out to score some weed; but death hangs over the story like the sky.
The story is filled with flashbacks, memories, and suprises. before the end, both brothers fall in love with adoring women, very much in the spirt of their mother, who is dying.
bob flaherty fills the last five or six pages with the death of a man in a bus station. but, believe it not, "puff" is a story that swims like a shark: it's always on the move.
another humorous novel focuses on a serial killer: Penn Jillette's "Sock."
"sock" is an extraordinary novel written by the "penn" of "penn & teller." i posted a review of it in this forum.
cindi and i had dinner tonight. i asked her if she wants to see beck with me in july. she's not really a beck fan. she told me she's going to las vegas that weekend. well, she may go and she may not.
i wrote a poem today:
The 'You've got ot be a little bored to write a poem like this' Poem.
what are the odds
of a carbon-based
life-form
pondering
its own existence
after buying a
disposable
camera
at its local wal mart
as a bar mitzvah
gift fir its
brother
?
Sunrise. SomeDay Morning. (11)
It's a long story but, believe it or not, I used to think that Li Po was a commercial brand of cooking oil. Then, last Tuesday afternoon, I read Charles Bukowski's poem " the buring of the dream," and learned that Li Po was really an early Chinese poet. Thrusday night I wrote a haiku about Li Po; ...read more
Sunrise. SomeDay Morning. (10)
Sunday, 2/13/05 (5:02am): This weeks entry is in the form of a diary and a poem. It has been a long week and it was difficult to focus on...this. j.jd.
Saturday, 2/12/05 (10:19pm): $46.42 (plus $7.00 tip)
Cindi and I had dinner again last night. As soon as we sat down, she ...read more
Sunrise. SomeDay Morning. (9)
First:
I am writing this from the bedroom of Cindi's condominium in Sausalito, California. She's asleep right now and I'm sitting at her desk in my boxer shorts and T-shirt. She's close enough that if I tossed a condom I could easily hit her with it. I'm not sure, but I think we had sex last ...read more
Sunrise. Sunday Morning. (8)
I woke-up this morning with an awful thought: What if it's Sunday morning and it's time to write my weekly dribble and I haven't a clue as to what to say? What if I get out of bed, make myself some coffee, and then sit down in front of my computer and just stare at it blankly for hours like a ...read more
Sunrise. Sunday Morning. (7)
I wanted to drink some beer last night so I hopped in the car and drove to the store. I switched-on the radio to npr (national public radio) and they were interviewing a funny fellow named Kinky Friedman. It seems he's a songwriter-musican-author-poet-taxidermist-used car salesman-pharmacist...and, possible candidate for Governor of Texas. He said something funny like, "I'm a sixty year old with the reading level of a sixty-two year old." I dunno, it was funny last night.
Anyway, I got home and started drinking the beer and I went to Friedman's website. He's written a number of books and I will probably (more sooner than later) look into them.
Speaking of books, I picked-up a new one Friday night. Have you heard of this "Eats, Shoots and Leaves."? It's written by a British woman named Lynne Truss. It's a runaway best seller about punctuation. I am trying hard to read it but I haven't gotten through the Acknowledgements, the Forward (by Frank McCourt), the Publisher's Note, the Preface...and the Introduction. If you're like me, your copy of Strunk and White's "The Elements of Style" is collecting dust on the bookshelf; I can use all the help I can get when it comes to puntuation. By the way, this is another book I heard about on the radio. This time, believe it or not - The Howard Stern Show.
It is sunrise.
Sunrise. Sunday Morning. (6)
A week ago today I ventured out into the torrential California sunshine (aka heavy rains) and bought a new book: "Tales of Beatnik Glory," a collection of short stories by Ed Sanders. This publiction is the culmination of a 30 year project that began in 1975 with the first volume. In 1990, volumes ...read more
Sunrise. Sunday Morning. (5)
When I was a kid I had a pen-pal. I don't remember his name, but I believe he lived in South Dakota. We were both 13 or 14 and exchanged a handful of letters about our mutual interest in drag racing. I didn't keep the letters. They disappeared along with almost everything else from my childhood. ...read more
Sunrise. Sunday Morning. (4)
Hello from the first Sunday of 2005.
I spent New Years eve with my daughter jane. jane doe. Her Christmas vacation with me ended on Saturday when she boarded a plane for Denver. She lives in Boulder with her mother. I just checked the current temperature in Boulder: 21 degrees F. ...read more
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