Feb 192016
 

blurred crowdLast week, while in San Francisco for a writers conference, I was walking with my young daughter on Geary Street near Mason, not far from Union Square, when I noticed him: a towering, disheveled member of the city’s vast legion of homeless people, keeping pace behind me.

I deliberately altered my pace—already considerably slower than the rest of the people who were streaming past since I was holding the hand of my toddler—to let him pass. But instead of disappearing into the upstream swim of pedestrians, he slowed, too. Continue reading »

Nov 282015
 

Gumwall3It was 1993, and the name Lorena Bobbitt single-handedly drove the sales of flower bouquets through the roof. Sultry alligator wrestler-turned-attorney general Janet Reno ordered the deadly raid on the Branch Davidian Religious Sect in Waco, Texas. And the whirring, humming automated residential housing algorithms of Michigan State University matched me up with a snag-toothed, pumpkin-headed man-child from suburban Detroit named Mark (for legal, moral and humanitarian reasons, I won’t print his last name here but I’ll give you a hint: it rhymes quite symmetrically with oh, smell…). Continue reading »

Mar 122015
 

“You don’t have to,” said Marci, with an affect that made it impossible for Davis to know whether it was being uttered out of sincerity, or more as a disclamation to have to reciprocate such favors some day in the future. Either way, it mattered not. It was a small price to pay to shake off any stodgy reservations that his newly appointed division support assistant might have had regarding her assignment to the company’s Topeka branch. Over lunch (she had had the chicken dumpling soup and a salad; he, a chicken cordon bleu sandwich, fries and Sierra Mist), Davis had detailed for her his own odyssey from mailroom clerk in the company’s Boston flagship office, to Administrative Assistant in Danbury, to Administrative Assistant Coordinator and later Client Relations Specialist in Charlotte, to Facility Manager and Administrative Assistant Manager at the Minneapolis branch, before finally landing the Division Supervisor gig in Topeka. Continue reading »

Jan 252015
 

TP“Snuffleupagus always kinda freaked me out,” Atkins said, looking out the restaurant window to the street where a cop had just pulled over a guy in a gray Nissan. “Not him, per se. I think it was his entrance music. That sort of dragging, swaying, shambling music that seemed to strike-up out of nowhere. Think about how unsettling it’d be to think that some shaggy, over-medicated, mastodon-ish creature could just appear out of nowhere and address you with this apparent, soul-tingling kind of disinterest. If you watch closely, you can almost guarantee that the other characters had the same oh shit kind of feeling about Snuffleupagus, too. They all kind of stand there for a second with these blank expressions and for just a moment, it’s like they feel some sort of mortal dread to see him standing there. Good old Gordon always had a way of seguing any awkward situation into something that seemed somehow relevant and all-inclusive. It seemed like he could defuse any situation.”

“Man, it was Tiny Tim, for me. Jesus, man. I mean, what the fuck…? That buzzing mosquito falsetto voice. Long, stringy sea-hag hair. There was just something about him that made me feel like I had been, I don’t know, victimized by him in some past life. Like I somehow knew what it felt like to have his hot, rancid breath panting on the back of my neck. Christ.”

“Tiptoe through the Tulips.”

“Nevermind Tiptoe through the Tulips. Ever hear his cover of The Doors’ People are Strange? Or that one song, “Little Girl”? Where he wants to know where some little girl is sleeping and then asks her if it’s in some trees or some shit?”

Each turned to watch the cop as he was walking back to his patrol car with the motorist’s license and vehicle paperwork in hand.

“That guy looks pissed,” Atkins remarked.

“The cop?”

“No, the driver.”

“I don’t know…Tiny Tim, man. And that Dating Game killer guy looked just like him. Some freaky dudes in this world, man.”

“Here’s one for ya: Edward Muscare. Ever heard of him?”

Roberts shook his head.

“Edward Muscare…Oh, Pretty Woman. Google it, you’ll see.”

When the cop returned to the Nissan, each tried to determine if the driver, based on his facial expression, was getting a ticket, but the cop was blocking their view of him.

Yet another one of those things they’d never know the answer to.

Jan 012015
 

SpamBeing relatively new to the whole blogging thing, I’m still trying to navigate my way around the WordPress landscape. Despite the patient helpfulness of my friend and fellow Redwoods colleague, Laura Wilkinson Hedgecock, I still can’t figure out the difference between an “SSO” and an “SEO”. To me, “Users Ultra” sounds like a brand of condoms, and a “Plugin” sounds like something you’d order from an Adam & Eve catalog.

One thing I’ve figured out: you receive upwards of a billion spam messages a day in your spam filter. Some of them are pretty lame, like the tenacious pitches on how to make $1700 a day from home, or how I can buy a new pair of Air Jordans for $75 (written in mostly indecipherable English). Others, however, appear quite complementary. Even if they’re not specific to me, they still warm my cold, December heart.

Nevertheless, I have to remind myself that each of these messages were originally banged out on a keyboard by a pair of tender, caring human hands. With this mind, I’ve agreed to respond to some of them.

 

onlinecigarettestoreus wants to know:

onlinecigarettestoreus.com/x
antonionoma@mail.ru
62.210.83.64

“Great looking website. Assume you did a bunch of ace discount cigarettes your own html coding.”

Yeah, I considered that; just didn’t seem like the right time.

 

Here’s one from scsuhuskies:
scsuhuskies.com/prada.aspx?pid=17961-purchase-Pra…x
mozkxvestxf@gmail.com
98.143.144.143

“saffiano leather for sale”

You better not be joking…

 

Gay porn writes:

gay pornh8vn.com/xawqlgm@gmail.com 77.81.105.38

“Excellent post. I was checking constantly this blog and I am impressed! Very helpful info particularly the closing phase I deal with such info much. I was seeking this certain information for a very lengthy time. Thank you and best of luck.”

I’m glad you enjoyed the post, gay. I’ve actually had quite a few people remark on the closing phase section as well. I’m just sorry that it took so much time for you to find it. Check back next week when I’ll be providing some helpful tips on farcy garages and kedge tarhood.

 

And then there’s this writer’s two-cents:

Marcelo
Engeecon.com/mathematics/x
marcelo_layman@gmail.com
64.182.17.60

“Have you ever thought about including a little bit more than just your articles?
I mean, what you say is fundamental and all. You could give yourself redirection.
However just imagine if you added some great photos or video clips to give your posts more,
“pop”! Your content is excellent but with pics and videos, this website could definitely be one of the best in its field.
Amazing blog!”

-Solid advice, coming from a guy who can’t even spell ‘red erection’ correctly.

Nov 292014
 

Welcome to Flint 

Just like hipsters and Scientology, the city of Flint is one of those things that’s easy to make fun of. Often referred to as “America’s murder capital”, it saw 66 murders in 2012, tying with its all-time high from just two years before. Not too shabby when you consider that equates to 65 murders per 100,000 people, a figure that tops that of Detroit or even Chicago. Continue reading »

Jul 052014
 

I was recently asked to participate in a Blog Tour  Q&A with Kris Mehigan. You can visit her blog at:

http://krismehigan.tumblr.com/

Right now, I am working on:

…a couple of books, actually. The book I recently finished is titled, “The Portraits of Gods”. Here’s the jacket description:

At 49, Bryan Wakefield finds himself at a crossroads in his life. Approaching retirement, he considers what life will be like once he is forced to abandon the daily means of escape his job has provided from the tumult of his personal life. To complicate matters, Jack also possesses superior autobiographical memory; an extraordinary ability that allows him to recall specific events from any given date in his past with uncanny accuracy. It’s this very ability that causes him to dwell incorporeally in the doorway between past and present, comparing the dreams and reverie of youth to the disappointment of his adult life. One day, on his way to work, Bryan misses his exit. But instead of getting off at the next exit, he continues driving, setting into motion events that will force him to strip away his desensitization by pitting past against present and breathe new life into his search for validity and meaningfulness.

Blending beauty and symmetry of language, The Portraits of Gods tells the tale of lost love and one man’s struggle with the slow-acting poison of regret.

The work is currently being shopped around for publishers.

My work differs from others in the genre because of my…

…tendency to blend deep philosophy with events and situations we’ve all experienced. Living’s a hard thing, or at least it can be as long as you’re not blissfully ignorant. 

I write what I do because…

That’s simple: Because I have to.

My writing process is…

I identify myself as a writer, though to help pay the bills, I “moonlight” as a police officer. In the pre-dawn hours, I like to park someplace scenic in my patrol car with a cup of coffee and my laptop and write while watching the sunrise…do it before all the calls for service start coming in. The morning seems to be the time of day when the ideas flow most smoothly for me. It’s also indescribably meditative. Otherwise, I don’t have a set method of writing. Although I keep notes of my work to keep me from running into plotline snags, I don’t do outlines and such. I tend to just write where the wind takes me. And then I’ll do as many revisions as possible until I’m satisfied with it.

 

Coming Monday: Redwoods Society Intern Cliff Gateflower visits the Mall of America to do some people-watching.  

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