*"Read My Blog ... Or I'll Kill Your Dog"

Other than $4.00 a gallon for gasoline, that is.  Something has got to give. 

            Well, for starters, let’s talk about mullets.  Why are there some men (and oh my gawd … women) still donning this hairstyle?  Sure, it may come back like disco did.  Probably not.  No one remembers when disco got popular again?  Exactly my point.  Bell bottoms?  Yeah … they got popular again.  Another one season wonder.  But mullets, gentlemen … and oh my gawd, ladies … let the mullets go.  It’s 2008.  Even if they make some weird sort of comeback … like the 60’s beehive hairdo did … remember that?  Exactly my point.  No one remembers that.  No one wants to.  Women didn’t look attractive back then with beehive hairdos and men don’t look attractive now with mullets.  Actually, they didn’t do much for many men who wore them when they were in style.  And the bald guy mullet.  Come on.  You’ve seen them.  Thinning hair to baby bald on top, short around the ears, and that mop straggling behind their shoulders. ...

Let’s start off with the obvious.  Gasoline.  $4.00!  Come on, now.  What is going on here?  It’s not that people aren’t bitching about it enough, but something has to give here and I’m talking above and beyond this stupid stimulus check G. Dubya thought would excite the public.  We can’t vote you in for four more years, anyway, Bush so just step aside.  It’ll be nice for a change of pace. 

            Speaking of a change of pace; is this country really ready for an African American President?  Or a woman Vice President?  I’m not a sexist or a racist, so before any of you reading this start pointing fingers at me and calling me names, listen to what I have to say.  I work in the trenches and pretty much have all my life.  I am neck deep in blue-collar co-workers and have been most of my life.  I am going to make a bold statement to you and some of you people can read this and take it anyway you want to.  It’s the gospel as far as I’m concerned by my vast experience...

     Well, it's been a while since I wrote.  I can't believe it's been almost three months.  Personal battles and unbelievable issues arose in my life in 2007 and the end of that year brought hope that 2008 would be a bit more serene.  We're hoping to start new and live life the way it was meant to be lived ... enjoyed ... and not badgered daily by the elements outside our control. 

     Elements outside our control.  Hmmm ... that brings me to the subject at hand.  Want to hear a funny story?  I don't think it's very funny for obvious reasons, but you (the reader) may enjoy the irony and the sadness to the humor within it.  Well ... I'll tell you the story and you can decide whether or not you feel my pain or if you wish to just do what I do now ... (medication helps) laugh at it and shake your head in disbelief.

     It all started years ago when I bought my first house.  A beautiful little log cabin on a rather large and modest parcel of wooded land.  I was in awe of my purchase.  Nestled in the woods on a...

            The other morning, I was making my infamous cup of coffee, still somewhat puffy eyed, and I was surprised to see a grasshopper in the sill of the kitchen window.  It's an early October morning, so I'm thinking he must have hopped on one of us yesterday to get inside out of the cold.  I'm not sure really, but even though it's a seemingly harmless little critter, the immediate sight of it somewhat shocked me.  I am not afraid of bugs and I'm the house hero when it comes to "killing the infiltrating hornet" or "smashing the trespassing spider" or whatever for my wife ... who for all accounts and purposes is terrified of insects.  For the most part, I try to gather up the little bugs and bring them outdoors where they are set free to wreak havoc in someone else's household.  That particular morning, I realize that the life of this grasshopper is in dire jeopardy.  I remember considering trying to scoop it up with my hand and get it outside, but I was still half awake and if I missed this guy was going to be jumping all over the place and I was going to...

     I haven't written in a while.  I've been slightly consumed with personal problems that refuse to go away.  I've tried everything short of a pest repellant.  Unfortunately, they do not make such a thing that would repel what I need it to.  So, to those of you who check out my blog from time to time, I apologize for my absence.

     I am pleased to announce that again I have a couple of irons in the fire.  Most importantly, I have started my newest novel entitled Ouija which I have completed the first five chapters of and am awaiting some "field-test" reviews on.  Like Season of the Sand Devil, it has real strong characters in it that are fighting adversity within their own lives as well as physical and metaphysical obstacles that I hope will make the manuscript plot driven.  I am assuming it will take me longer to complete than did Season of the Sand Devil since my time to write is more limited than it was when I completed that project ... not to mention the time both Vicky and I are investing into seeking representation for that manuscript as well as An Ant Named...

How Dirty is the Patriots Dynasty!?

            Just the thought of this boils my blood.  Anyone who truly knows me, knows that not only am I an avid football fan, but also a gigantic New England Patriots fanatic.  I love the team.  I always have.  I was there (in spirit) in the 1985 season when they won a wild card bid for Super Bowl XX against the Chicago Bears under the leadership of Raymond Berry.  I saw them score first in that game with a pitiful, yet successful field goal attempt.  And then I watched as the breath and momentum was sucked from my very soul as Chicago went on to clobber us 46-10.  I was there (in spirit yet again) in 1996 under the reign of Bill Parcells as we earned another berth for Super Bowl XXXI against the Green Bay Packers and watched as Desmond Howard almost single handedly stole our game away from us in the second half on two kick-off returns ... one that scored and the other that gave the Packers tremendous field advantage.  I was there in heart and soul during the 2001 season when Bledsoe got hurt and some unnamed, unheard of...

            My right leg propped up on the bathroom sink, pouring peroxide over the open wound on my shin ... one and one half inch vertical, one quarter inch horizontal ... the peroxide foams immediately as it strikes the oozing sore ... I am suddenly aware of how many battle scars my body has taken on through out the years.  I'd like to take this opportunity to give a shout out to my new found friends at the Berlin, New Hampshire Teen Center who I had the pleasure of meeting and going hiking with up to Lookout Ledge in Randolph this past Monday, July 30, 2007.  Hey Dancing James.  Hey David.  The two I was running after when I took the digger that I am now dressing the wounds from.  And let us not forget the other James that rode up to the trail head with me and back to the teen center and although is a pretty cool kid, is also an incessant pest to my beloved wife, Vicky.  Someday ... perhaps I'll take him camping for a weekend, get him out of his own mother's hair, and exact Vicky's vengeance on him.  Just kidding, Buddy.  Relax.  I'd also...

Perhaps not as poetic as Shakespeare would have ... could have eloquently written it ... but I ain't exactly William.  The good lord knows I'm trying.  Not to emulate William.  To exemplify myself.  I have no idea how many query letters this makes.  How many rejection letters to counter our efforts.  My wife is a driving force to be reckoned with and the labors of her hard work are merely squandered by the lack of empathy in this business.  The business of writing.  Writing for your life, if you will.  Because when all is said and done ... that's what I'm really doing. 

I must interrupt my thoughts for a moment to tell you all this.  I'm online right now ... I was going to say ... write now, but I didn't want anyone to think I typoed without it being on purpose.  Come on ... I have sperl chek.  Anywell ... whilst online and deciding to write about this in my blog ... a familiar voice emitted from the speakers of the laptop announcing the fact that "I have mail."  It not only broke my concentration and made me ponder why in hell I even attempted to write while...

     On May 10th, I wrote a somber blog entry entitled "The Only Guarantee in Life is ..."  about an episode that had occurred to me the previous day.  For those of you who gracioulsy read it, you'd recall that I helped an elderly gentleman up from a face-fall position in his driveway next door to where I work.  It was a sad event and I was thrilled to see the gentleman moving about, even slow as he was, shortly thereafter.  He would even hop onto his Craftsman riding lawnmower and trim his lawn although very slowly, also quite methodically.  A graceful and kind man.  He stopped in a time or two ... sometimes taking the ride across our parking lot on his tractor, sometimes walking slowly and steadily on weary, but determined legs.  I didn't know his name.  I know what it is now.  I think it's sad that I know what it is now and how I have come across that knowledge.  Maybe one of those days I could have introduced myself.  Things just don't work out in the scheme of things in life sometimes.  He didn't ask me my name the day I helped him.  He was...

     A travesty.  It seems when mankind is left nothing to diversify or segregate to or from, he commits this travesty to his very own.  I'm not sure if this still takes place in the schools.  I didn't think much about it when I was in school and I'll tell you why in due time.  But the simple fact that it existed at all is a crime against young people and their dignity. 

    So, my mother wasn't exactly rich.  She moved back home with her mother and father with us three kids in tow after divorcing my dead-beat father who disappeared from our lives altogether.  We struggled, but my mom and grandparents did what they could for us.  We led normal lives with a safe roof over our heads.  I'm thankful for that. 

    In school, however, it's quite one thing to have levels of social diversity.  The rich kids are going to hang out with the other rich kids that are being reared in their own neighborhoods.  After all, even city ordinances allow certain homes to be built in certain neighborhoods.  You're not going to find a double-wide in a neighborhood of estates, in other words.  So there's...

     This is my first stab at a childrens story.  It was based on a dream that my daughter had.  I woke her up one morning and the first words out of her mouth were ... "I had a dream about an ant named Fly, Daddy."  The gears inside my head began to grind and the story incubated for a spell.  I had to find an angle and I had to figure out a little adventure for the ant.  I had to come up with a reason for him to have an unusual name.  And then it struck me.  Having an androgynous name myself ... (one of which I persecute my mother about to this day ... like why I couldn't just have been called John, or Joseph, or even Joey, but Jody?  What were you thinking, Mom? )... gave me the idea.  So even though my beloved daughter came up with the initial idea, she didn't have much more to go on with her dream, but the idea of an ant named Fly alone was all the ammunition I would need after my mind went to work on the details.  Having this so called ant named Fly be picked on...

Freedom, The French, and Old Orchard Beach

            If you've ever seen the movie The Patriot you might recall the opening line.  It goes ... "I have long feared that my sins would return to visit me, and the cost would be more than I could bear."  Ah yes ... words of great wisdom indeed.  Why I am recalling that line while deciding to write about my days of yore, could only mean I have something to confess.  And to this poor, sweet lass, who has undoubtedly passed the test of time with flying colors and moved on with her life, I sincerely apologize.  Now, where do I start after that opening line?   From the beginning, I presume.

            The summer of 1980.  I had my license for over a year now and had done my best to do what damage I could to Mom's car and even my grandparents' car.  This was a malicious act with the intent that if I did enough damage to theirs, they'd consider letting me buy one of my own.  I was a working lad, after all.  I needed to get from to and fro and had to have transportation.  It was...

            For this entry, I'll switch to a more somber topic since something happened to trigger this yesterday.  Death played a pretty significant role in my life in 2006.  I lost three close family members and our own pet cat of 15 years named Dustin.  It brought on the inevitable sorrow to my intimate family that losing someone always does; that hollow feeling of helplessness and for some reason, a lingering residue of guilt.  I think everyone has second guessed themselves before after the loss of a loved one.  Did they visit them enough?  Did they do enough for them?  Did the express their love for them enough?  Was there too much lack of communication?  Things of that nature.  Almost like we're blaming ourselves for the death that was going to take place no matter how we react in life.  Death is inevitable for all of us.  How we die is a different matter.  Taken swiftly by a sudden illness or fatal accident seems so unfair because no one was able to prepare themselves for the loss.  However, after watching people or pets get old, one has to ponder the mercy of a swift death.  Yes, the loved ones...