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

            There was a time in my life when I didn't mind crowds.  I could handle a mass populous of people in a limited space.  But the simple idea of Black Friday and what it represents turns me off...

Rocking the Boat on the Sea of Insanity

            She did it again.  She has violated the restraining order I have against her for the umpteenth time and just because she’s vagrant … on the lam from the law, local authorities are limited to action.  It’s only a matter of time before she’s caught, but in her delusional world of what’s right and wrong with the law, I truly believe she thinks she’s on some crusade to make the world hear her.  To make the world abide by her rules.  By her laws.  She disregards everything that she has learned in her Internet paralegal studies.  She balks lawyers and judges who rule against her and screams out conspiracy against her.  No one has the time or the energy.  No one cares s’long as they’re left alone.  But does she leave them alone?  No.  She continues on.  She continues to harass the people that once offered her assistance and were torched by her betrayal.  She wonders now why she wonders the earth alone … wanted in almost every city, county, and state she has resided for the...

Anger Issues

            Alright ... after a particularly stressful couple of weeks at work and home ... and then the "incident" where I banged my head on the freezer door as I was coming up from the vegetable crisper drawer in the fridge ... and beat a bag of green onions to a pulpy liquidy mass ... not to mention coercion from outsiders and insiders who encounter me and my indiscretions daily ... I decided it was time to come to terms with my anger.  My name is Jody ... and I'm an angry person.  "Hi Jody!" exclaimed the room full of fellow Angerites.  Bunch of bleeping weirdos.  There ain't nothing wrong with me.  Rule number one, Jody.  Denial is a form of admittance.  Um ... that doesn't even make sense ... does it?  If I wasn't the one who started the booger farm under the sofa and I said I wasn't the one who did ... then I really am?  I don't think so.  Not always, anyway.  But let's not get off track.  Angry minds tend to wander.  Why don't you bleep my bleeping bleep? 

            Alright ... enough of the testosterone.  It's obvious I'm full of it...

I would never admit to suffering from it.  I write every day in one way or another.  Even my emails are a bit verbose to the victim who has to read and reply to them.  But after the year of adversity I've endured, I can honestly say ... that perhaps I'm a bit constipated in the literary end of things.  The book Season of the Sand Devil almost getting picked up by an independent publisher in Exeter, New Hampshire came to a sudden halt when the founder and biggest fan of my manuscript committed suicide in late June.  He had emailed me earlier in the day to answer a reply I was concerned with the timing and all that.  His email comforted me and made me feel he was on top of things.  Then he disappeared ... I received an email from his partner a few days later mentioning his suddenly and surprising death.  I never met Phil Englehardt in person, but he has a dynamic personality and it was no doubt by talking to the man on the phone ... although his voice did not match his appearance at all ... that he was the truest form of a...

Brando Campbell

Our beloved German shepherd,

May he rest in peace.

November 28th, 1995-September 11th, 2008

Mommy, Jadyn, and Daddy all love you big fella

              I think it was in the year 2005 ... summertime ... we were at my brother-in-law's house and were taking advantage of his pool in spite of the hot weather.  Everyone, including my mother-in-law had jumped in.  Brando, our German shepherd sat at the bottom of the steep stairs of the new pool deck my brother-in-law and his brother had recently built together.  Brando always wanted to be involved in everything we did.  He always had to be around us.  Even if it meant he was getting in the way and was risking injury to himself.  As a result, he would indeed sometimes get injured because no matter how we tried to divert him or keep him in the house or lock him on the deck, he would find a way to escape and get into the mix.  That day, after repeatedly being told to "STAY!" Brando could no longer maintain his good behavior and when the last person, my mother-in-law, climbed the deck to go into the pool, he was not far behind her.  The stairs were open-faced, steep, and narrow.  Not designed for a top heavy dog like a German shepherd.  Not sure if he wanted...

The Flower

            I don't try to over-think things.  Maybe that's my problem.  I don't know what my problem is actually.  Here is a true-to-life scenario, my reaction to it, and the inevitable outcome.  The common denominator is that I'm a shmuck, but at least I admit it. 

            "Daddy!  Look!  Flowers!  Can I pick one for momma?"  She was so excited about the silly flowers.

            They were the same stupid tiger lilies that grew in the back yard every summer.  I looked at them and saw that at least ten unopened petals were attached to the same stem formation that had a completely sprouted blossom of brilliant orange.  If we picked it now, thought my dense incapacitated mind, the rest of the petals will surely die and we will lose all those flowers.  Does it make a difference, really?  In the long run?  Does it?  What do I do with these flowers and the large jungle grass plant part of it after the lilies have passed?  I mow it down.  And what happens the following year whether I do anything about it or not?  They grow back.  Without effort.  They're there every year.  Let her pick them...

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...