Roy L. Pickering Jr.'s Blog, page 20
January 6, 2013
The Return of SHORT STORY SUNDAY
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Stop by on the first Sunday of whichever months I choose (I'll be sure to send out invitations) to find a new (new to appearance on this blog, that is) short story featured here at A LINE A DAY. If you enjoy the tale, please be sure to let me know by leaving a comment and kindly share it with friends. I'm kicking things off in January of 2013 with a story about finding artistic motivation. Good luck locating your own muses in the new year and beyond.
A WORK OF ART
Johnny lounged on his sofa, absorbed in the Knicks game on television. Finishing off a glass of homemade lemonade, he placed it on the coffee table. As if summoned telepathically, his wife entered the room and refilled it.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome, honey."
Johnny leaned forward to grab a handful of sunflower seeds shelled by his wife. This gave Lucinda the opportunity to fluff the pillow behind his back.
"I hope this game doesn't go into overtime like the one last night," she said. "I want you to get out of this rut you've been in and start working on a new painting."
"Why even bother if you'll be the only one seeing it?"
"Your big break will come, Johnny. You just have to remain positive. You're extremely talented. Someday everybody will learn what I already know."
"I'm tired of trying to stay positive."
"Relax and enjoy the game, honey. I can be positive enough for both of us." Lucinda placed a kiss on his forehead, then headed back to the kitchen.
Johnny smiled. Lucinda was a good woman. She supplemented his strengths, balanced his weaknesses, catered to his needs. As for her needs, they were rather simple in nature. She was made happy by the act of loving and taking care of Johnny.
He felt no doubt when he looked into his wife's doe eyes that he was indeed fortunate to have her by his side. The bane of his existence was that he was not in love with her.
There had been isolated moments when he thought he perhaps did feel for his wife as he desperately wanted to. He had been somewhat moved when she walked towards him down the aisle, her face covered by a wedding veil. When he first saw their daughter laying asleep on Lucinda's breast, Johnny's heart had swelled. But this was mostly gratitude, which in time transformed into a degree of resentment. Once he became a father, his fate was permanently sealed. He could no longer entertain realistic thoughts of leaving. His place had been cemented, and it was by Lucinda's side.
They had been set up four years earlier on a blind double date. According to Shelly, the girlfriend of his best friend, they were to make an ideal match. Johnny's dance card was considerably deal less than filled, so he agreed to give the canned arrangement a shot.
It was disappointment at first sight. Lucinda was not difficult to look at, just not easy enough on the eyes to warrant enthusiasm. Her body was not of the exotic variety he preferred, merely utilitarian. Lucinda was no heartbreaker, and Johnny hungered for the sort of woman who put his heart at risk from the get go. But these were no reasons to let his evening be spoiled. He was with dear friends and did not mind making a new one. So he decided to make the best of things. With the pressure to win over his date removed, he relaxed and was quite charming.
The charm was reciprocal. Each topic of conversation revealed yet another shared interest. Lucinda laughed at every one of his jokes, even the more obscure ones that usually produced blank stares. And she told wonderfully humorous anecdotes of her own. Best of all, she was completely fascinated by the subject he loved to speak of most. Himself. Or to be specific, his artistic pursuits. Johnny drained multiple glasses of wine and reveled in the fine company. He barely noticed when James and Shelly cleverly managed to leave them to themselves. He was not aware of any desire to kiss Lucinda until he found himself doing precisely that. It felt nice. Too nice for goodnight.
Good morning awoken to in Lucinda's bed brought reality crashing along with it. This should not have happened, but hindsight would do him no good. He would have to tread carefully. Johnny did not want to come off as a jerk.
They had brunch together, and the time passed as pleasantly as had the night before. Lucinda did not dismiss his aspirations as adolescent fantasizing or a harmless hobby to be condescendingly indulged. Under her admiring gaze, it seemed almost reasonable to believe that his dreams would one day be realized. The least he could do was bring her home for a look at his paintings.
The hole he dug gradually deepened into a canyon. Lucinda expertly stroked his ego, made him feel like a king, and he didn't want the feeling to end. So he encouraged it to continue. Against his judgement that a relationship between them would be doomed, he began seeing her regularly. Until a suitable replacement came along. When several months passed without this happening, his strategy was adjusted. He would break up with her as soon as possible. Despite Lucinda's many wonderful qualities, regardless of their great compatibility, one fact remained that could not be denied or further ignored. Johnny felt he could do better.
If this branded him as shallow, so be it. He had given desire ample time to grow, but it was only familiarity that multiplied.
"If you leave her, you'll regret it," said Gary. "But you'll regret it more if you stay."
"You think you're such a great catch?" exclaimed Norma. "Women like that don't fall for clowns like you every day. Losing her would be the biggest mistake you ever made, and you've made some whoppers."
"If you're not completely happy, you owe it to yourself to end it," advised Lance. "And even more, you owe it to her."
"You'll always feel like you could have done better," Maxine said. "And you'll come to take it out on her. Spare her that. Spare yourself from becoming somebody you won't like. Stop being such a wimp."
"You've never compromised in your art," said his brother Dedric. "So why compromise in your life?"
"You either love her or you don't," Collette stated. "Decide which it is and then act on the answer. Everything outside of that is a load of bull."
"Subtly suggest cosmetic surgery," cracked Randy.
"Stay with Lucinda, but cheat like wild on the side until it's out of your system," suggested Carlos, always a strong proponent of both having and eating one's cake.
Kevin's commentary on the business led Johnny no closer to resolution.
"When the lights go out, I'm sure she's as much of a goddess as any other woman. Of course, that doesn't help you out much once the sun rises."
Everyone was in agreement on only one detail.
"Should I be honest about the way I feel?"
"Uh uh." "No way." "Hell no!" "Are you nuts?" "I wouldn't advise that."
At least that much was clear. He would have to be less than forthcoming about why he felt their relationship had run its course. He would do it in a way that left Lucinda with dignity. He'd cast all blame upon himself. It had nothing to do with her, everything to do with his own immaturity and unwillingness to commit. What choice would she have but to accept his resolution?
Johnny worked up his nerve over a candle lit dinner cooked and staged by Lucinda that he intended to be their last meal together as a couple. He needed to free both of them up for the people they were destined to be happy with. The bombshell finally landed, but it was Lucinda who launched it.
"I'm pregnant."
By all accounts they had a lovely wedding. Every picture taken of the groom showed him with a broad smile. He knew it was crucial to hold it in place, lest his true feelings be broadcast.
Things might have worked out okay had the Mortons not moved next door. He may have grown accustomed to the life he ended up with, come to appreciate the immense upside to it. Lucinda earned a considerably higher salary than him, so she paid a substantial share of the bills. Yet she also handled most household duties, including taking care of a daughter whom Johnny cherished with all his being. She encouraged his artistic pursuits, not only with kind words of support, but also by allowing him time to work undisturbed. There was nothing he could think to ask for that she did not provide. As the years passed and vanity lowered accordingly in his list of priorities, he would certainly come to be grateful for the choices he had sort of made, that he had accepted without putting up too much of a fight.
The Mortons were amiable people, fine neighbors. They were also the parents of a sexy, nubile vixen. The moment Johnny spied their 17 year old daughter in the saran wrapped shorts and belly baring tee shirt she wore, he knew he was in trouble.
His thoughts were occupied by innumerable fantasies of an outrageously sexual nature throughout the weeks to follow. He imagined himself and Monique getting together in every conceivable scenario, locale and position. Not even an energetic two year old who found new trouble to get into by the minute could distract him from obsessive contemplation. But his desires were harmless so long as they remained unrealized. He could lust for Monique to his heart's content. Danger would only be present if she felt likewise. And what were the odds of that?
Much better than expected, as it turned out. Monique was a girl who knew what she wanted, and she was aware that most things wouldn't be very difficult for her to acquire. In defiance of logic, her sights seemed to be set on Johnny.
"How old are you?" she inquired one day as he mowed his lawn. He briefly considered subtracting a few years from his age before replying honestly that he was 35.
"I hope the man I marry looks as good as you when he's 35," she said, pleasantly making the number sound considerably less than 100.
Johnny kept his expression nonchalant and his budding erection discreet, wiping the sweat from his brow in response to the compliment.
"You must work out," said Monique.
"From time to time. When I can."
"Well it certainly shows."
She was leaning against the gate that separated their backyards, bronzed cleavage temptingly showcased, her hair in childish pigtails but her body demonstrating that she was all woman. Johnny forced his eyes away from her delectably rounded hips and exquisite midsection, for her belly's cavernous button was lulling him into a trance. This just led him to stare at her full and glossy lips which were working over a piece of gum.
"I hear you're an artist. Are you any good?"
"A few people think so, but no major galleries yet. I'll have to stick with my day job a while longer."
"I'd like to see your paintings."
"Sure. Some day soon we'll have you and your parents over for dinner."
"I'd like to see them now, Johnny."
Lucinda and Joy were not home and weren't due back for a couple of hours. As if sensing the tension of the moment, a lawnmower that was roaring in the near distance came to a sudden stop and all was relative silence.
"Okay."
Johnny remained physically faithful to his wife that afternoon, despite the overwhelming temptation to obey the commands of his hormones. Whatever risk was involved with the situation, he was willing to roll the die and take his chances. But he did not intend to make the first move, no matter how welcomed it seemed. He would leave that up to Monique, whom he sensed to be quite capable of taking control. Something in her gaze left the impression that she acted with far more purpose than the average teenager experiencing a case of puppy love.
Hopefully a single taste of the succulent feast of flavors before him would satisfy his appetite. He was the head of a family. This was not to be jeopardized. Some fun might be had as a one shot deal, if he determined that she would be able to refrain from becoming emotionally involved. He would then return to his domesticated state, and she would head into the arms of some college boy with fortunate timing. No one would be the wiser, and Johnny's list of cherished accomplishments would have one more sweet item added.
"Honey, what's the matter?"
"Nothing", said Johnny in response to his wife's query later that night. "I'm just real tired. Maybe I'll surprise you in the morning."
"That would be nice. We haven't made love right after waking up in a while. Remember when ... Johnny, are you asleep already?"
"Mmmm hmm."
"Sweet dreams, my dear."
Johnny simply could not will himself to be aroused by Lucinda. Not while consumed with burning knowledge that Monique was his for the asking. Whenever he looked at his wife, he thought of how little he had settled for. Not only regarding his marriage, but in practically every aspect of his life. When given a choice between struggling to attain what he truly wanted or accepting what was less desired but freely offered, he had taken the easy route on each occasion. He was not supposed to be a suburban, middle class, sales rep who dabbled in painting as a weekend hobby while doted on by the plain Jane wife who bore his children. He was an ARTIST, perhaps a brilliant one if he could only dedicate sufficient time and energy to his craft. But in order to do that he would have to be hungry. Not in his stomach, but in his gut. A cushy existence was the death of desire. Every day of the mundane life he was living sapped his spirit a little bit more. He needed to feel passion, for only then could he freely express it on canvas. The woman who shared his bed should serve not only as a mate, but also as muse. Her presence should trigger the release of his talent, so the space he took up in the world would be justified. He needed a cause of greater merit than comfort.
Johnny resumed the regimen of pull-ups and sit-ups that had been abandoned in his mid-twenties. He wanted his physique to show the results during his excessive gardening on the weekends to follow. Once he was out in the yard, Monique never failed to leave her house and head over to the gate that divided them. They would speak about everything under the sun. She told him about her plans to be either a doctor, lawyer, or actress someday. He told her about the paintings and artists he most cherished, the symphonies that moved him most deeply, the novelists whose gift of prose left him in awe at the majesty of God's creation. She took it all in like a teacher's pet student, looking at him with hunger for knowledge and thirst for what he was growing increasingly anxious to supply. Little by little, without conscious intent, Johnny was molding his perfect woman. Monique was becoming more than a mere erotic fantasy. She was no longer just a diversion from all that was ordinary and plain in his life, or a reminder that beauty should be perpetually aspired to, never taken for granted. A woman he could envision a future with was being formed. Her mind was clay to his skillful fingers. Only her body remained unexplored.
He vigilantly waited for a sign of encouragement to progress to the next logical step. One was recognized on the day she asked to watch him as he painted. No woman other than Lucinda had ever examined him at work. He was conscious of Monique's tantalizingly close presence with every feverish brushstroke. He ached to reach out and pull her into his arms. But somehow he refrained, fearing that she was not quite ready. Johnny was certain that she would let him know beyond doubt when the time was right. He needed only to be patient.
The frequency of lovemaking with his wife significantly dropped. He saw it as a necessary evil, endured only when she forcefully ignored his excuses. Each day he grew more convinced that he should, could, and would leave the life he possessed for the one he craved. As devastated as Lucinda would be, as undeserving of such treatment as she was, his decision was immune to the persuasion of tears and hysterics, beyond the scope of moral consideration. People's feelings were hurt by the hour, their lives turned upside down with a minimum of notice. They generally got over it. Lucinda would as well. Johnny had no choice in this matter. The urges prompting him could not be denied much longer. Resistance to forbidden fruit had always been mankind's most futile goal.
"I want to pose for you, Johnny."
"Okay", was his brief, helpless, automatic reply.
Four posing sessions would be necessary per his method. Johnny intended to give birth to a masterpiece that would invoke the envy of the Sistine Chapel's ceiling. Monique's beauty would extract genius from his soul. When the painting was completed, she would be overwhelmed by the immense desire it exuded. She would turn to him, speechless. He would lay her down, love her slowly, appreciate every inch of her splendor. Then they would start making plans. The summer was soon coming to an end. Monique would be starting college in a matter of precious days. For Johnny's dreams to be realized, he needed to awaken and take action.
"I brought over a couple of bathing suits," Monique said. "You can choose one for me to wear. Unless you'd rather paint me nude."
"Nude?"
"Sure. I don't mind if you dont."
"No, no, I don't mind. Are you sure you'd be comfortable with ... Do you think that would be such a good ..."
Johnny's difficulty completing sentences was replaced by inability to speak altogether as Monique removed her blouse.
"I cant believe I'm going to be the subject of a real work of art. This is so exciting."
She removed her bra. "Now I know how Mona Lisa must have felt."
She removed her shorts. "I know you'll make me look beautiful."
Her sandals were kicked off, and then finally, with no indication of self-consciousness, Monique removed her panties.
"How shall I pose?"
Johnny grabbed hold of the nearest inanimate object to steady himself. When he remembered that breathing was a necessity, he took a gulp of air into his lungs and slowly let it back out. A ringing sound was faintly heard. At first he thought it was in his head, that the sight of Monique's nakedness had affected him much like sitting close to the speakers at a rock concert. Too much of a good thing could overload one's senses, although it stood to reason that this should happen to his sight rather than his hearing. The ringing was not constant, but came at evenly spaced intervals. He finally realized that it was the phone upstairs, which could easily be ignored and would eventually be cut off by the answering machine.
Monique sat down, crossed her legs, and looked straight ahead with an expression of erotic serenity. Although everybody was born nude, not every body was designed to naturally remain in such a state of grace. On Monique, clothing was an obstruction of divine sculpting.
"How's this?" she asked.
"Perfect." It was the most honest answer Johnny had ever given to a question.
He lifted a brush and stared at his hand, surprised by how steady he managed to hold it. Summoning the spirits of Cezanne, Picasso and Monet, he began to weave magic.
Never before had he worked with such intensity, yet remarkable ease. He would have continued all throughout the day, the night, and into the following morning had this been feasible. But Lucinda and Joy would be returning at four oclock, as they did every Saturday afternoon. Lucinda dropped Joy off at her sister's apartment on the way to aerobics class, and picked her up on the way back home. Melanie loved to babysit her precocious niece, and an empty house gave Johnny the peace he required to concentrate on a painting. Usually he would stare at a blank canvas for about ten minutes and then abandon the task due to insufficient motivation and head back upstairs to his couch and television. He had brought an alarm clock down to the basement that was set for 3:30, to make certain Monique was gone before his wife and daughter came back.
Johnny was consumed by the vision posed before him and the reflection he was unleashing. The rest of the room, and then the house, and then the neighborhood, and then the reality of his existence faded to black. He felt himself transported from his American suburban basement at the beginning of a new millennium to a studio in Paris a century earlier, giving birth to a new movement in art, living a life that legends are made from.
The illusion was roughly shattered when Lucinda walked into the basement. Johnny turned to look at the alarm clock, expecting to find that it had been incorrectly set and he had lost track of the time. Instead he saw that it was ten minutes before three oclock, matching the time on his watch. Lucinda was home early. Had he answered the phone or checked the message she left, he would have known that her aerobics class had been cancelled and she was returning earlier than usual. But contemplation of what would and could have been was of little use. So was the manufacturing of excuses. Not even Harry Houdini could escape this predicament.
Johnny concluded it was probably for the best that things were out in the open sooner rather than later. Cowardice is not an option when one is cornered. He would tell Lucinda how he felt, that their marriage was over, that he had found another. But first he would allow Lucinda to say her piece.
"Don't worry, Johnny. You can paint the girl. You can screw her even. You can daydream about being in love with her if you must. Fantasies are important, I understand that. Especially for an artist. But so is reality. You will not be leaving me, Johnny. Your wife and daughter need you, and you need us. We're having roast beef for dinner."
Lucinda went upstairs. By the time Johnny could shake off his astonishment and look towards Monique, she had finished getting dressed.
"Your wife certainly knows you well."
"Huh?"
"You behaved pretty much like she said you would. I thought you'd be groping me within the first week. And I can't honestly say I would have minded. But Lucy said you'd be a pussy cat and that's just what you were."
"Is that right?" asked Johnny in a daze as the reality of the arrangement slowly penetrated his comprehension.
"I can't wait until the painting is finished. My boyfriend is going to love it. Should I show up the same time tomorrow?"
"Are you kidding me?"
"I'll see you tomorrow, Johnny."
She walked out and went home, or to her boyfriend, or to wherever it was that youth and beauty ventured. Johnny looked at the form taking shape on canvas. He suspected his hands had been manipulated by a higher power. It did not seem possible that he was responsible for such a budding masterpiece. Here was the greatness that Lucinda had believed him capable of from the start, and continued believing long after he had accepted mediocrity as his destiny.
Monique had awakened long dormant urges. She reminded him of what his life had once been about, of the future he had eagerly anticipated. She had unleashed the abilities he had never before been able to transfer from his subconscious to his fingertips. Monique was the muse he had always known would come along.
Courtesy of Lucinda's handiwork.
Johnny went upstairs slowly, moving as if he had aged forty years in a single afternoon. He clicked on the TV, lifted his daughter as he ran towards him with hands upheld, took his favorite post on the sofa and sat Joy down on his lap. The sound of meal preparation in the kitchen caused him to go up a couple notches with the television remote from his volume level of prefernece. A drink would hit the spot, but he didn't rise to get one. Johnny wasn't certain if his mood was for beer or a glass of wine. He didn't concern himself over this quandary. Without needing to be asked, Lucinda would provide exactly the right thing.
Source: etsy.com via Roy on Pinterest
Stop by on the first Sunday of whichever months I choose (I'll be sure to send out invitations) to find a new (new to appearance on this blog, that is) short story featured here at A LINE A DAY. If you enjoy the tale, please be sure to let me know by leaving a comment and kindly share it with friends. I'm kicking things off in January of 2013 with a story about finding artistic motivation. Good luck locating your own muses in the new year and beyond.
A WORK OF ART
Johnny lounged on his sofa, absorbed in the Knicks game on television. Finishing off a glass of homemade lemonade, he placed it on the coffee table. As if summoned telepathically, his wife entered the room and refilled it.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome, honey."
Johnny leaned forward to grab a handful of sunflower seeds shelled by his wife. This gave Lucinda the opportunity to fluff the pillow behind his back.
"I hope this game doesn't go into overtime like the one last night," she said. "I want you to get out of this rut you've been in and start working on a new painting."
"Why even bother if you'll be the only one seeing it?"
"Your big break will come, Johnny. You just have to remain positive. You're extremely talented. Someday everybody will learn what I already know."
"I'm tired of trying to stay positive."
"Relax and enjoy the game, honey. I can be positive enough for both of us." Lucinda placed a kiss on his forehead, then headed back to the kitchen.
Johnny smiled. Lucinda was a good woman. She supplemented his strengths, balanced his weaknesses, catered to his needs. As for her needs, they were rather simple in nature. She was made happy by the act of loving and taking care of Johnny.
He felt no doubt when he looked into his wife's doe eyes that he was indeed fortunate to have her by his side. The bane of his existence was that he was not in love with her.
There had been isolated moments when he thought he perhaps did feel for his wife as he desperately wanted to. He had been somewhat moved when she walked towards him down the aisle, her face covered by a wedding veil. When he first saw their daughter laying asleep on Lucinda's breast, Johnny's heart had swelled. But this was mostly gratitude, which in time transformed into a degree of resentment. Once he became a father, his fate was permanently sealed. He could no longer entertain realistic thoughts of leaving. His place had been cemented, and it was by Lucinda's side.
They had been set up four years earlier on a blind double date. According to Shelly, the girlfriend of his best friend, they were to make an ideal match. Johnny's dance card was considerably deal less than filled, so he agreed to give the canned arrangement a shot.
It was disappointment at first sight. Lucinda was not difficult to look at, just not easy enough on the eyes to warrant enthusiasm. Her body was not of the exotic variety he preferred, merely utilitarian. Lucinda was no heartbreaker, and Johnny hungered for the sort of woman who put his heart at risk from the get go. But these were no reasons to let his evening be spoiled. He was with dear friends and did not mind making a new one. So he decided to make the best of things. With the pressure to win over his date removed, he relaxed and was quite charming.
The charm was reciprocal. Each topic of conversation revealed yet another shared interest. Lucinda laughed at every one of his jokes, even the more obscure ones that usually produced blank stares. And she told wonderfully humorous anecdotes of her own. Best of all, she was completely fascinated by the subject he loved to speak of most. Himself. Or to be specific, his artistic pursuits. Johnny drained multiple glasses of wine and reveled in the fine company. He barely noticed when James and Shelly cleverly managed to leave them to themselves. He was not aware of any desire to kiss Lucinda until he found himself doing precisely that. It felt nice. Too nice for goodnight.
Good morning awoken to in Lucinda's bed brought reality crashing along with it. This should not have happened, but hindsight would do him no good. He would have to tread carefully. Johnny did not want to come off as a jerk.
They had brunch together, and the time passed as pleasantly as had the night before. Lucinda did not dismiss his aspirations as adolescent fantasizing or a harmless hobby to be condescendingly indulged. Under her admiring gaze, it seemed almost reasonable to believe that his dreams would one day be realized. The least he could do was bring her home for a look at his paintings.
The hole he dug gradually deepened into a canyon. Lucinda expertly stroked his ego, made him feel like a king, and he didn't want the feeling to end. So he encouraged it to continue. Against his judgement that a relationship between them would be doomed, he began seeing her regularly. Until a suitable replacement came along. When several months passed without this happening, his strategy was adjusted. He would break up with her as soon as possible. Despite Lucinda's many wonderful qualities, regardless of their great compatibility, one fact remained that could not be denied or further ignored. Johnny felt he could do better.
If this branded him as shallow, so be it. He had given desire ample time to grow, but it was only familiarity that multiplied.
"If you leave her, you'll regret it," said Gary. "But you'll regret it more if you stay."
"You think you're such a great catch?" exclaimed Norma. "Women like that don't fall for clowns like you every day. Losing her would be the biggest mistake you ever made, and you've made some whoppers."
"If you're not completely happy, you owe it to yourself to end it," advised Lance. "And even more, you owe it to her."
"You'll always feel like you could have done better," Maxine said. "And you'll come to take it out on her. Spare her that. Spare yourself from becoming somebody you won't like. Stop being such a wimp."
"You've never compromised in your art," said his brother Dedric. "So why compromise in your life?"
"You either love her or you don't," Collette stated. "Decide which it is and then act on the answer. Everything outside of that is a load of bull."
"Subtly suggest cosmetic surgery," cracked Randy.
"Stay with Lucinda, but cheat like wild on the side until it's out of your system," suggested Carlos, always a strong proponent of both having and eating one's cake.
Kevin's commentary on the business led Johnny no closer to resolution.
"When the lights go out, I'm sure she's as much of a goddess as any other woman. Of course, that doesn't help you out much once the sun rises."
Everyone was in agreement on only one detail.
"Should I be honest about the way I feel?"
"Uh uh." "No way." "Hell no!" "Are you nuts?" "I wouldn't advise that."
At least that much was clear. He would have to be less than forthcoming about why he felt their relationship had run its course. He would do it in a way that left Lucinda with dignity. He'd cast all blame upon himself. It had nothing to do with her, everything to do with his own immaturity and unwillingness to commit. What choice would she have but to accept his resolution?
Johnny worked up his nerve over a candle lit dinner cooked and staged by Lucinda that he intended to be their last meal together as a couple. He needed to free both of them up for the people they were destined to be happy with. The bombshell finally landed, but it was Lucinda who launched it.
"I'm pregnant."
By all accounts they had a lovely wedding. Every picture taken of the groom showed him with a broad smile. He knew it was crucial to hold it in place, lest his true feelings be broadcast.
Things might have worked out okay had the Mortons not moved next door. He may have grown accustomed to the life he ended up with, come to appreciate the immense upside to it. Lucinda earned a considerably higher salary than him, so she paid a substantial share of the bills. Yet she also handled most household duties, including taking care of a daughter whom Johnny cherished with all his being. She encouraged his artistic pursuits, not only with kind words of support, but also by allowing him time to work undisturbed. There was nothing he could think to ask for that she did not provide. As the years passed and vanity lowered accordingly in his list of priorities, he would certainly come to be grateful for the choices he had sort of made, that he had accepted without putting up too much of a fight.
The Mortons were amiable people, fine neighbors. They were also the parents of a sexy, nubile vixen. The moment Johnny spied their 17 year old daughter in the saran wrapped shorts and belly baring tee shirt she wore, he knew he was in trouble.
His thoughts were occupied by innumerable fantasies of an outrageously sexual nature throughout the weeks to follow. He imagined himself and Monique getting together in every conceivable scenario, locale and position. Not even an energetic two year old who found new trouble to get into by the minute could distract him from obsessive contemplation. But his desires were harmless so long as they remained unrealized. He could lust for Monique to his heart's content. Danger would only be present if she felt likewise. And what were the odds of that?
Much better than expected, as it turned out. Monique was a girl who knew what she wanted, and she was aware that most things wouldn't be very difficult for her to acquire. In defiance of logic, her sights seemed to be set on Johnny.
"How old are you?" she inquired one day as he mowed his lawn. He briefly considered subtracting a few years from his age before replying honestly that he was 35.
"I hope the man I marry looks as good as you when he's 35," she said, pleasantly making the number sound considerably less than 100.
Johnny kept his expression nonchalant and his budding erection discreet, wiping the sweat from his brow in response to the compliment.
"You must work out," said Monique.
"From time to time. When I can."
"Well it certainly shows."
She was leaning against the gate that separated their backyards, bronzed cleavage temptingly showcased, her hair in childish pigtails but her body demonstrating that she was all woman. Johnny forced his eyes away from her delectably rounded hips and exquisite midsection, for her belly's cavernous button was lulling him into a trance. This just led him to stare at her full and glossy lips which were working over a piece of gum.
"I hear you're an artist. Are you any good?"
"A few people think so, but no major galleries yet. I'll have to stick with my day job a while longer."
"I'd like to see your paintings."
"Sure. Some day soon we'll have you and your parents over for dinner."
"I'd like to see them now, Johnny."
Lucinda and Joy were not home and weren't due back for a couple of hours. As if sensing the tension of the moment, a lawnmower that was roaring in the near distance came to a sudden stop and all was relative silence.
"Okay."
Johnny remained physically faithful to his wife that afternoon, despite the overwhelming temptation to obey the commands of his hormones. Whatever risk was involved with the situation, he was willing to roll the die and take his chances. But he did not intend to make the first move, no matter how welcomed it seemed. He would leave that up to Monique, whom he sensed to be quite capable of taking control. Something in her gaze left the impression that she acted with far more purpose than the average teenager experiencing a case of puppy love.
Hopefully a single taste of the succulent feast of flavors before him would satisfy his appetite. He was the head of a family. This was not to be jeopardized. Some fun might be had as a one shot deal, if he determined that she would be able to refrain from becoming emotionally involved. He would then return to his domesticated state, and she would head into the arms of some college boy with fortunate timing. No one would be the wiser, and Johnny's list of cherished accomplishments would have one more sweet item added.
"Honey, what's the matter?"
"Nothing", said Johnny in response to his wife's query later that night. "I'm just real tired. Maybe I'll surprise you in the morning."
"That would be nice. We haven't made love right after waking up in a while. Remember when ... Johnny, are you asleep already?"
"Mmmm hmm."
"Sweet dreams, my dear."
Johnny simply could not will himself to be aroused by Lucinda. Not while consumed with burning knowledge that Monique was his for the asking. Whenever he looked at his wife, he thought of how little he had settled for. Not only regarding his marriage, but in practically every aspect of his life. When given a choice between struggling to attain what he truly wanted or accepting what was less desired but freely offered, he had taken the easy route on each occasion. He was not supposed to be a suburban, middle class, sales rep who dabbled in painting as a weekend hobby while doted on by the plain Jane wife who bore his children. He was an ARTIST, perhaps a brilliant one if he could only dedicate sufficient time and energy to his craft. But in order to do that he would have to be hungry. Not in his stomach, but in his gut. A cushy existence was the death of desire. Every day of the mundane life he was living sapped his spirit a little bit more. He needed to feel passion, for only then could he freely express it on canvas. The woman who shared his bed should serve not only as a mate, but also as muse. Her presence should trigger the release of his talent, so the space he took up in the world would be justified. He needed a cause of greater merit than comfort.
Johnny resumed the regimen of pull-ups and sit-ups that had been abandoned in his mid-twenties. He wanted his physique to show the results during his excessive gardening on the weekends to follow. Once he was out in the yard, Monique never failed to leave her house and head over to the gate that divided them. They would speak about everything under the sun. She told him about her plans to be either a doctor, lawyer, or actress someday. He told her about the paintings and artists he most cherished, the symphonies that moved him most deeply, the novelists whose gift of prose left him in awe at the majesty of God's creation. She took it all in like a teacher's pet student, looking at him with hunger for knowledge and thirst for what he was growing increasingly anxious to supply. Little by little, without conscious intent, Johnny was molding his perfect woman. Monique was becoming more than a mere erotic fantasy. She was no longer just a diversion from all that was ordinary and plain in his life, or a reminder that beauty should be perpetually aspired to, never taken for granted. A woman he could envision a future with was being formed. Her mind was clay to his skillful fingers. Only her body remained unexplored.
He vigilantly waited for a sign of encouragement to progress to the next logical step. One was recognized on the day she asked to watch him as he painted. No woman other than Lucinda had ever examined him at work. He was conscious of Monique's tantalizingly close presence with every feverish brushstroke. He ached to reach out and pull her into his arms. But somehow he refrained, fearing that she was not quite ready. Johnny was certain that she would let him know beyond doubt when the time was right. He needed only to be patient.
The frequency of lovemaking with his wife significantly dropped. He saw it as a necessary evil, endured only when she forcefully ignored his excuses. Each day he grew more convinced that he should, could, and would leave the life he possessed for the one he craved. As devastated as Lucinda would be, as undeserving of such treatment as she was, his decision was immune to the persuasion of tears and hysterics, beyond the scope of moral consideration. People's feelings were hurt by the hour, their lives turned upside down with a minimum of notice. They generally got over it. Lucinda would as well. Johnny had no choice in this matter. The urges prompting him could not be denied much longer. Resistance to forbidden fruit had always been mankind's most futile goal.
"I want to pose for you, Johnny."
"Okay", was his brief, helpless, automatic reply.
Four posing sessions would be necessary per his method. Johnny intended to give birth to a masterpiece that would invoke the envy of the Sistine Chapel's ceiling. Monique's beauty would extract genius from his soul. When the painting was completed, she would be overwhelmed by the immense desire it exuded. She would turn to him, speechless. He would lay her down, love her slowly, appreciate every inch of her splendor. Then they would start making plans. The summer was soon coming to an end. Monique would be starting college in a matter of precious days. For Johnny's dreams to be realized, he needed to awaken and take action.
"I brought over a couple of bathing suits," Monique said. "You can choose one for me to wear. Unless you'd rather paint me nude."
"Nude?"
"Sure. I don't mind if you dont."
"No, no, I don't mind. Are you sure you'd be comfortable with ... Do you think that would be such a good ..."
Johnny's difficulty completing sentences was replaced by inability to speak altogether as Monique removed her blouse.
"I cant believe I'm going to be the subject of a real work of art. This is so exciting."
She removed her bra. "Now I know how Mona Lisa must have felt."
She removed her shorts. "I know you'll make me look beautiful."
Her sandals were kicked off, and then finally, with no indication of self-consciousness, Monique removed her panties.
"How shall I pose?"
Johnny grabbed hold of the nearest inanimate object to steady himself. When he remembered that breathing was a necessity, he took a gulp of air into his lungs and slowly let it back out. A ringing sound was faintly heard. At first he thought it was in his head, that the sight of Monique's nakedness had affected him much like sitting close to the speakers at a rock concert. Too much of a good thing could overload one's senses, although it stood to reason that this should happen to his sight rather than his hearing. The ringing was not constant, but came at evenly spaced intervals. He finally realized that it was the phone upstairs, which could easily be ignored and would eventually be cut off by the answering machine.
Monique sat down, crossed her legs, and looked straight ahead with an expression of erotic serenity. Although everybody was born nude, not every body was designed to naturally remain in such a state of grace. On Monique, clothing was an obstruction of divine sculpting.
"How's this?" she asked.
"Perfect." It was the most honest answer Johnny had ever given to a question.
He lifted a brush and stared at his hand, surprised by how steady he managed to hold it. Summoning the spirits of Cezanne, Picasso and Monet, he began to weave magic.
Never before had he worked with such intensity, yet remarkable ease. He would have continued all throughout the day, the night, and into the following morning had this been feasible. But Lucinda and Joy would be returning at four oclock, as they did every Saturday afternoon. Lucinda dropped Joy off at her sister's apartment on the way to aerobics class, and picked her up on the way back home. Melanie loved to babysit her precocious niece, and an empty house gave Johnny the peace he required to concentrate on a painting. Usually he would stare at a blank canvas for about ten minutes and then abandon the task due to insufficient motivation and head back upstairs to his couch and television. He had brought an alarm clock down to the basement that was set for 3:30, to make certain Monique was gone before his wife and daughter came back.
Johnny was consumed by the vision posed before him and the reflection he was unleashing. The rest of the room, and then the house, and then the neighborhood, and then the reality of his existence faded to black. He felt himself transported from his American suburban basement at the beginning of a new millennium to a studio in Paris a century earlier, giving birth to a new movement in art, living a life that legends are made from.
The illusion was roughly shattered when Lucinda walked into the basement. Johnny turned to look at the alarm clock, expecting to find that it had been incorrectly set and he had lost track of the time. Instead he saw that it was ten minutes before three oclock, matching the time on his watch. Lucinda was home early. Had he answered the phone or checked the message she left, he would have known that her aerobics class had been cancelled and she was returning earlier than usual. But contemplation of what would and could have been was of little use. So was the manufacturing of excuses. Not even Harry Houdini could escape this predicament.
Johnny concluded it was probably for the best that things were out in the open sooner rather than later. Cowardice is not an option when one is cornered. He would tell Lucinda how he felt, that their marriage was over, that he had found another. But first he would allow Lucinda to say her piece.
"Don't worry, Johnny. You can paint the girl. You can screw her even. You can daydream about being in love with her if you must. Fantasies are important, I understand that. Especially for an artist. But so is reality. You will not be leaving me, Johnny. Your wife and daughter need you, and you need us. We're having roast beef for dinner."
Lucinda went upstairs. By the time Johnny could shake off his astonishment and look towards Monique, she had finished getting dressed.
"Your wife certainly knows you well."
"Huh?"
"You behaved pretty much like she said you would. I thought you'd be groping me within the first week. And I can't honestly say I would have minded. But Lucy said you'd be a pussy cat and that's just what you were."
"Is that right?" asked Johnny in a daze as the reality of the arrangement slowly penetrated his comprehension.
"I can't wait until the painting is finished. My boyfriend is going to love it. Should I show up the same time tomorrow?"
"Are you kidding me?"
"I'll see you tomorrow, Johnny."
She walked out and went home, or to her boyfriend, or to wherever it was that youth and beauty ventured. Johnny looked at the form taking shape on canvas. He suspected his hands had been manipulated by a higher power. It did not seem possible that he was responsible for such a budding masterpiece. Here was the greatness that Lucinda had believed him capable of from the start, and continued believing long after he had accepted mediocrity as his destiny.
Monique had awakened long dormant urges. She reminded him of what his life had once been about, of the future he had eagerly anticipated. She had unleashed the abilities he had never before been able to transfer from his subconscious to his fingertips. Monique was the muse he had always known would come along.
Courtesy of Lucinda's handiwork.
Johnny went upstairs slowly, moving as if he had aged forty years in a single afternoon. He clicked on the TV, lifted his daughter as he ran towards him with hands upheld, took his favorite post on the sofa and sat Joy down on his lap. The sound of meal preparation in the kitchen caused him to go up a couple notches with the television remote from his volume level of prefernece. A drink would hit the spot, but he didn't rise to get one. Johnny wasn't certain if his mood was for beer or a glass of wine. He didn't concern himself over this quandary. Without needing to be asked, Lucinda would provide exactly the right thing.
December 13, 2012
My Christmas Gift To You
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Earlier this year I made the Kindle edition of Patches of Grey available to be borrowed from the Lending Library at Amazon.com by members of their Prime program. And now, for two days (not just any old two but Christmas Eve and Christmas Day), anyone and everyone who owns a Kindle or uses the Kindle App can download my novel FREE OF CHARGE. I hope plenty of you take advantage of this opportunity. Once you're done reading I'd love to hear what you thought of it at Amazon, GoodReads, Shelfari, or wherever else you may happen to post views on the books you've read. Tis the season of generosity, better to give than to receive, so I'm offering the best I had in me when writing my debut novel. I hope you enjoy Patches of Grey, that it joins many wonderful books to be found on your reading list, and that you have a most joyous holiday season.
p.s. - If you're always on the look out for eBook giveaways I recommend regularly consulting this calendar maintained by eBook Blitz
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After you've read it, challenge your memory by taking this quiz about Patches of Grey at GoodReads.com. Good luck!
p.p.s. - I know what some of you are thinking. The world is coming to an end on December 21st. The Mayans told us plain as day. So what good is giving away free books 4 or 5 days after we've all been wiped off the planet? All I can tell you is that I'm an optimistic Doubting Thomas. I'm looking forward to Christmas, to the New Year, and to countless opportunities to ignore whatever resolutions I make for it. Planning ahead never hurt anyone, even when told that there will be no ahead.
[image error]
Source: lineaday.blogspot.com via Roy on Pinterest
Earlier this year I made the Kindle edition of Patches of Grey available to be borrowed from the Lending Library at Amazon.com by members of their Prime program. And now, for two days (not just any old two but Christmas Eve and Christmas Day), anyone and everyone who owns a Kindle or uses the Kindle App can download my novel FREE OF CHARGE. I hope plenty of you take advantage of this opportunity. Once you're done reading I'd love to hear what you thought of it at Amazon, GoodReads, Shelfari, or wherever else you may happen to post views on the books you've read. Tis the season of generosity, better to give than to receive, so I'm offering the best I had in me when writing my debut novel. I hope you enjoy Patches of Grey, that it joins many wonderful books to be found on your reading list, and that you have a most joyous holiday season.
p.s. - If you're always on the look out for eBook giveaways I recommend regularly consulting this calendar maintained by eBook Blitz
[image error]
Source: flickr.com via Roy on Pinterest
[image error]
Source: flickr.com via Roy on Pinterest
After you've read it, challenge your memory by taking this quiz about Patches of Grey at GoodReads.com. Good luck!
p.p.s. - I know what some of you are thinking. The world is coming to an end on December 21st. The Mayans told us plain as day. So what good is giving away free books 4 or 5 days after we've all been wiped off the planet? All I can tell you is that I'm an optimistic Doubting Thomas. I'm looking forward to Christmas, to the New Year, and to countless opportunities to ignore whatever resolutions I make for it. Planning ahead never hurt anyone, even when told that there will be no ahead.
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Source: lostateminor.com via Kris on Pinterest
November 9, 2012
FOUR MORE YEARS
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Some of the excuses being made for Mitt Romney's loss are pretty amusing. e.g. - I've seen "he couldn't separate himself from right wing extremists" cited.
Silly rabbit. That would be because Mitt attached himself to them. Nobody made him go hard core on immigration to counter Rick Perry. Romney’s choice.
Nobody made Mitt endorse Richard Murdouck both before AND AFTER his horrific rape commentary. That was Mitt's call. He chose to co-sign such extremism all on his own.
Did Romney distance himself at all from Donald Trump's ludicrous, baseless, racist bordering accusations? Nope. Not even by an inch or two.
Romney may not be as conservative as he pretended to be (will the real Mitt Romney please stand up, please stand up, please stand up), but he did earnestly pretend to be as conservative/extremist/right wing as they come. There are repercussions for such behavior regardless of whether it’s heartfelt or play acting.
Another reason I saw cited for Romney's loss was because ads by the Obama team managed to make Mitt seem unlikeable. Hah!
Let us be straight with one another here. What made Mitt Romney unlikeable was Mitt Romney. His actions spoke, opposition ads simply spotlighted them.
Unless Barack Obama is a master ventriloquist who somehow put that 47% quote in Mitt's mouth, Romney basically created attack ads on himself.
Obama didn't even need to tie Romney to Bush like he effectively did with McCain. In their last debate Obama basically said that Romney is another GW copycat, except that Bush’s policies were less mean spirited than Mitt’s.
McCain made major mistakes, biggest of all being the selection of Sarah Palin. But at least she got him Alaska's electoral votes so she wasn’t entirely useless.
Romney went & picked an Ayn Rand devotee who couldn't even secure his own state for the ticket.
Mitt beat his own damn self during tough economic times that should have spelled doomsday for the incumbent. The main reason Mitt beat himself is not anything stated above but the simple fact that he was an awful candidate who tried to buy his way into the White House. DENIED.
After lurking throughout the campaign I decided to engage a die hard Republican friend of mine who was griping about the end result on Facebook. Conversation went reasonably well because I respectfully disagreed but made undeniable point he did not really attempt to counter.
Point I made is that whatever party you happen to side with, the obligation of that party to is put forth serious candidates to promote the cause.
You can severely disagree with the Democrats’ principles but at least acknowledge that Obama, Kerry, Gore, Hillary Clinton were credible candidates with serious intentions.
On the other hand, the Republicans ran a serial flip flopper whose crowning achievement was the healthcare mandate he then had to run against. When you battle yourself, no matter who wins, you lose.
Keep in mind that this is after running Sarah Palin in the VP spot as a blatantly shallow attention grabber the last time out. And we must not forget that Donald Trump was once the Republican party’s frontrunner even though his brief flirtation with running was clearly a publicity stunt. Herman Cain was just a small step up from Trump, his presence a weak attempt to prove that the Republican platform is for black people too.
To a certain degree it doesn't matter whose argument is superior. Plenty of valid points are issued by both sides. A quality candidate from either of our two main political parties can go on to excel at the presidency. But if instead of well qualified applicants you run clowns, more often than not you’ll lose.
I suspect the lesson has finally been learned and the 2016 election will feature quality candidates on both sides of the political theory divide.
Then again, money talks and if the super conservative ridiculously right wing fringe is spending plenty of it, another lame GOP candidate may emerge. This would guarantee another victory for the Democrats.
It seems necessary from reading my Twitter stream after Obama’s victory to point out that a vote for Romney was not by definition a vote for racism. His supporters baffle me but they aren't ALL bigots.
Too many of them are though, as evidenced by: Anti-Obama Protest at Ole Miss Turns Unruly
If you're white, not a bigot, and a student at Old Miss, it's a lot harder to hold your head high while wearing your college sweatshirt today.
Behavior like that makes future would be Republican voters go "Nah, I don't want to be affiliated with that. I'll go Democrat or be Independent instead".
Stupid people don't realize that they hurt their causes and themselves with stupid behavior. That's because they're stupid people. It takes a long long time to weed out ignorance. There's always somebody passing stupidity down to their kids, keeping moronic hate alive.
But a work in progress is still undeniably PROGRESS.
We may not be post-racial but we are most definitely post slavery/Jim Crow/segregation. The GOP needs to distance themselves in a hurry from those who should really be members of the KKK for all their backwardness of beliefs.
It is never going to be 1950 again no matter how badly you want to turn the clock back. In the 21st century if you keep disenfranchising minorities, women, homosexuals - you'll lose.
You either change with the times or get run over by them. There really is no happy middle ground. Not if you require more votes than that obtained by a reasonable challenger to gain employment.
Once the GOP platform is not about exclusion, but rather, about core principles that they can run proudly on, they'll reclaim lost relevance.
It that doesn't happen they'll simply go the way of the dinosaur. Getting pounded in quest for Black/Latino/Gay/Immigrant/Women votes = extinction.
And for Pete's sake, let overturning Roe v Wade go. It's been decided. It's in the books. It makes sense. Move on. There are other causes.
With so many people PISSED about the state of the economy, all the Republican Party needed to do was put a credible candidate at the head of the ticket. They royally messed that up.
Final Electoral College tally: Obama 332, Romney 206.
Source: twitter.com via Susan on Pinterest
Some of the excuses being made for Mitt Romney's loss are pretty amusing. e.g. - I've seen "he couldn't separate himself from right wing extremists" cited.
Silly rabbit. That would be because Mitt attached himself to them. Nobody made him go hard core on immigration to counter Rick Perry. Romney’s choice.
Nobody made Mitt endorse Richard Murdouck both before AND AFTER his horrific rape commentary. That was Mitt's call. He chose to co-sign such extremism all on his own.
Did Romney distance himself at all from Donald Trump's ludicrous, baseless, racist bordering accusations? Nope. Not even by an inch or two.
Romney may not be as conservative as he pretended to be (will the real Mitt Romney please stand up, please stand up, please stand up), but he did earnestly pretend to be as conservative/extremist/right wing as they come. There are repercussions for such behavior regardless of whether it’s heartfelt or play acting.
Another reason I saw cited for Romney's loss was because ads by the Obama team managed to make Mitt seem unlikeable. Hah!
Let us be straight with one another here. What made Mitt Romney unlikeable was Mitt Romney. His actions spoke, opposition ads simply spotlighted them.
Unless Barack Obama is a master ventriloquist who somehow put that 47% quote in Mitt's mouth, Romney basically created attack ads on himself.
Obama didn't even need to tie Romney to Bush like he effectively did with McCain. In their last debate Obama basically said that Romney is another GW copycat, except that Bush’s policies were less mean spirited than Mitt’s.
McCain made major mistakes, biggest of all being the selection of Sarah Palin. But at least she got him Alaska's electoral votes so she wasn’t entirely useless.
Romney went & picked an Ayn Rand devotee who couldn't even secure his own state for the ticket.
Mitt beat his own damn self during tough economic times that should have spelled doomsday for the incumbent. The main reason Mitt beat himself is not anything stated above but the simple fact that he was an awful candidate who tried to buy his way into the White House. DENIED.
After lurking throughout the campaign I decided to engage a die hard Republican friend of mine who was griping about the end result on Facebook. Conversation went reasonably well because I respectfully disagreed but made undeniable point he did not really attempt to counter.
Point I made is that whatever party you happen to side with, the obligation of that party to is put forth serious candidates to promote the cause.
You can severely disagree with the Democrats’ principles but at least acknowledge that Obama, Kerry, Gore, Hillary Clinton were credible candidates with serious intentions.
On the other hand, the Republicans ran a serial flip flopper whose crowning achievement was the healthcare mandate he then had to run against. When you battle yourself, no matter who wins, you lose.
Keep in mind that this is after running Sarah Palin in the VP spot as a blatantly shallow attention grabber the last time out. And we must not forget that Donald Trump was once the Republican party’s frontrunner even though his brief flirtation with running was clearly a publicity stunt. Herman Cain was just a small step up from Trump, his presence a weak attempt to prove that the Republican platform is for black people too.
To a certain degree it doesn't matter whose argument is superior. Plenty of valid points are issued by both sides. A quality candidate from either of our two main political parties can go on to excel at the presidency. But if instead of well qualified applicants you run clowns, more often than not you’ll lose.
I suspect the lesson has finally been learned and the 2016 election will feature quality candidates on both sides of the political theory divide.
Then again, money talks and if the super conservative ridiculously right wing fringe is spending plenty of it, another lame GOP candidate may emerge. This would guarantee another victory for the Democrats.
It seems necessary from reading my Twitter stream after Obama’s victory to point out that a vote for Romney was not by definition a vote for racism. His supporters baffle me but they aren't ALL bigots.
Too many of them are though, as evidenced by: Anti-Obama Protest at Ole Miss Turns Unruly
If you're white, not a bigot, and a student at Old Miss, it's a lot harder to hold your head high while wearing your college sweatshirt today.
Behavior like that makes future would be Republican voters go "Nah, I don't want to be affiliated with that. I'll go Democrat or be Independent instead".
Stupid people don't realize that they hurt their causes and themselves with stupid behavior. That's because they're stupid people. It takes a long long time to weed out ignorance. There's always somebody passing stupidity down to their kids, keeping moronic hate alive.
But a work in progress is still undeniably PROGRESS.
We may not be post-racial but we are most definitely post slavery/Jim Crow/segregation. The GOP needs to distance themselves in a hurry from those who should really be members of the KKK for all their backwardness of beliefs.
It is never going to be 1950 again no matter how badly you want to turn the clock back. In the 21st century if you keep disenfranchising minorities, women, homosexuals - you'll lose.
You either change with the times or get run over by them. There really is no happy middle ground. Not if you require more votes than that obtained by a reasonable challenger to gain employment.
Once the GOP platform is not about exclusion, but rather, about core principles that they can run proudly on, they'll reclaim lost relevance.
It that doesn't happen they'll simply go the way of the dinosaur. Getting pounded in quest for Black/Latino/Gay/Immigrant/Women votes = extinction.
And for Pete's sake, let overturning Roe v Wade go. It's been decided. It's in the books. It makes sense. Move on. There are other causes.
With so many people PISSED about the state of the economy, all the Republican Party needed to do was put a credible candidate at the head of the ticket. They royally messed that up.
Final Electoral College tally: Obama 332, Romney 206.
November 7, 2012
No Halloween Trick - Just A Treat
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After considerable contemplation I have decided to put the Kindle edition of Patches of Grey into Amazon's KDP Select program. Unfortunately this means the digital version will be temporarily unavailable to those looking to upload it to their Nook or Kobo software. But if you're an Amazon shopper (and who isn't these days?) the good news is that Patches of Grey will be entered into their ebook Lending Library. In case you don't already know, the Kindle Owners' Lending Library is a collection of books that Amazon Prime members can borrow once a month, with no due dates.
As an added bonus, I will soon be offering the Kindle edition of Patches of Grey FOR FREE TO EVERYBODY for a period of 5 days. So you don't need to be an Amazon Prime member, simply stay on the look-out for a promotional announcement. I haven't decided yet whether the giveaway will last 5 days straight or if I'll scatter it around a bit. Either way I'll be sure to let you know when you can take advantage of a free book promotion here at A Line A Day, on Twitter where I go by the name @AuthorOfPatches, at my FaceBook fan page, on GoodReads.com, at my web site RoyPickering.net, and anywhere else I can think of. The Kindle edition of Patches of Grey only costs $2.99 ($9.99 for the print edition), but these days any hard earned dollar we can keep in our pockets is a buck that's greatly appreciated. That's why there will be no trick played by me on book lovers, only the TREAT of an opportunity to download my novel free of charge. Then you can finally find out what all the raves have been about.
Most important of all, I hope this blog posting finds you well after the havoc brought about by Hurricane Sandy. I live in New Jersey and work in New York City so electrical power was lost on both ends. My daughter's school is out of power as well. Fortunately I still have a sturdy roof over my head and dry floors underneath. Rather than being frustrated by the hassles of post hurricane damage I'm doing my best to remain upbeat while being grateful for what I do still have, including good friends and loved ones who have come through in the clutch. Sometimes it takes adversity to learn who you can truly depend on. I have survived the tricks that Hurricane Sandy played on us east coasters, spoiling planned Halloween festivities, and am greatly appreciative of the treat of reliable friendship.
No adversity must be weathered to obtain Patches of Grey though. And soon, for some, for a period of time - No Expense.
A very big p.s. - CONGRATULATIONS TO PRESIDENT BARACK OBAMA
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Source: etsy.com via Roy on Pinterest
[image error]
Source: etsy.com via Roy on Pinterest
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Source: thehouseofsmiths.com via Roy on Pinterest
After considerable contemplation I have decided to put the Kindle edition of Patches of Grey into Amazon's KDP Select program. Unfortunately this means the digital version will be temporarily unavailable to those looking to upload it to their Nook or Kobo software. But if you're an Amazon shopper (and who isn't these days?) the good news is that Patches of Grey will be entered into their ebook Lending Library. In case you don't already know, the Kindle Owners' Lending Library is a collection of books that Amazon Prime members can borrow once a month, with no due dates.
As an added bonus, I will soon be offering the Kindle edition of Patches of Grey FOR FREE TO EVERYBODY for a period of 5 days. So you don't need to be an Amazon Prime member, simply stay on the look-out for a promotional announcement. I haven't decided yet whether the giveaway will last 5 days straight or if I'll scatter it around a bit. Either way I'll be sure to let you know when you can take advantage of a free book promotion here at A Line A Day, on Twitter where I go by the name @AuthorOfPatches, at my FaceBook fan page, on GoodReads.com, at my web site RoyPickering.net, and anywhere else I can think of. The Kindle edition of Patches of Grey only costs $2.99 ($9.99 for the print edition), but these days any hard earned dollar we can keep in our pockets is a buck that's greatly appreciated. That's why there will be no trick played by me on book lovers, only the TREAT of an opportunity to download my novel free of charge. Then you can finally find out what all the raves have been about.
Most important of all, I hope this blog posting finds you well after the havoc brought about by Hurricane Sandy. I live in New Jersey and work in New York City so electrical power was lost on both ends. My daughter's school is out of power as well. Fortunately I still have a sturdy roof over my head and dry floors underneath. Rather than being frustrated by the hassles of post hurricane damage I'm doing my best to remain upbeat while being grateful for what I do still have, including good friends and loved ones who have come through in the clutch. Sometimes it takes adversity to learn who you can truly depend on. I have survived the tricks that Hurricane Sandy played on us east coasters, spoiling planned Halloween festivities, and am greatly appreciative of the treat of reliable friendship.
No adversity must be weathered to obtain Patches of Grey though. And soon, for some, for a period of time - No Expense.
A very big p.s. - CONGRATULATIONS TO PRESIDENT BARACK OBAMA
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Source: lineaday.blogspot.com via Roy on Pinterest
October 16, 2012
Why Elections Matter - And Debates Leave Too Much Unsaid
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Is there ever going to be a serious conversation about what the repercussions would be if Roe vs Wade was overturned? This is not a theoretical matter because it could really happen in the not too distant future, at which point the matter ceases to be about opposing talking points and transforms into nitty gritty details to be dealt with.
I respect someone sincerely having a Pro Life position but I’m tired of hearing politicians say “I’m pro life”, “I believe in the sactity of life”, “all lives are sacred” without then detailing a follow up plan.
Suppose Romney wins the election and eventually he’s able to appoint enough conservative Supreme Court justices to overturn Roe vs Wade.
So it’s now illegal for a woman (guy who contributed to the pregnancy bears no consequence of course, a major flaw in plan) to get an abortion. Penalty for breaking the law must be decided on.
Jail time seems ridiculous. So I guess you go with a hefty fine. But not everyone will be able to afford the fine. Jail time for those who can’t pay? Result, prisons overflowing with poor women.
Whatever penalty is decided on, let us assume it’s quite pursuasive. This means far fewer abortions, far more babies. The number of women who get pregnant without planning to parent will stay the same. After all, many of those who are anti-abortion are also illogically anti-contraceptives.
So now what? I will conservatively guess that the birth rate increases by 50%.
Women who wish to avoid the penalty for getting an illegal abortion (I won’t even get into the safety of the inevitable bootleg abortions from the network of unlicensed practicioneers that will emerge) decide to give birth even though they don’t want/plan to parent.
A percentage of these women will give a half hearted shot at raising the children. I'm going to say 20%. These are mostly poor, single women pushed to care for children they don’t want in their lives. The picture will not be pretty in those households but all that matters is squelching abortions.
But how about the other 80%? The attitude of these women is that you can make them carry to term but you can’t make them parent. 10% of these pregnancies are hidden and babies end up left in dumpsters.
Now we must deal with 70% of babies born to women who did not want and do not plan to raise them. The system (which takes various forms, much of it private/charitable, but much of it also government run or dependent on government money) will have to take care of these children. Adoption agencies and foster care system become overloaded but all that matters is squelching abortions.
I will generously assume that if you’re going to overturn Roe vs Wade you’re also going to pass laws that make adoption extremely affordable. As result, 25% of these children find welcoming homes.
It would be nice if all of these households had guaranteed healthcare. That’s a separate though certainly not unrelated matter for another day/post.
25% is probably too high a projection. After all, a fair number of the children will be the result of rape and even incest. This makes them way less adoptable. It’s not like reducing the cost of adoption means everyone becomes willing to do it. Many people have no interest in parenting, or no interest in parenting someone who is not their biological child. As for those who are willing (God bless them), they’ll have some restrictions (such as no can do if child is the result of violent rape) for obvious reasons.
But I’ll stick with my optimistic 25% guesstimate anyway. That leaves 45% of the babies whose biological mothers could/would not raise them going into the sytem.
Now as we know, the Romney/Ryan budget calls for making massive cuts to social services even though a massive INCREASE in funds to social services would be required to handle all of these children.
What we have here is another case of math that doesn’t add up. You want to “fix” our economy but simultaneously want to overturn a law that would eventually lead to a crippling of the economy. And keep in mind, this is the best case scenario I’m working with.
So maybe, just maybe, the issue isn’t quite so simple as saying “I’m pro life”, “I believe in the sactity of life”, “all lives are sacred”, “abortion is cold blooded murder that must be prevented at all cost”.
If that’s your stance, I understand and respect it. You believe in no exceptions other than perhaps when the life of the mother is at risk? Fine. I too wish that the number of abortions that occur each year considerably decreased, although since I am a man and cannot get pregnant, I’m not so arrogant as to think I have the right to tell a woman what she is allowed to do with her body. But if you are that arrogant/self righteous then I really need to hear your follow up plan. I need to know how many lives you are volunteering to care for if you insist on taking away women’s reproductive rights. If you are going to insist that every child be born then surely you will be doing your minimal share to address the consequences of this taking place. You don’t want to just overturn a rule of law and then let the chips fall where they may, correct? Not when those chips happen to be lives that you profess to care so much about.
If in fact you don’t have a follow up plan, then you need to go sit quiety in the corner and give more serious consideration to who you plan to vote for.
Source: plus.google.com via USA on Pinterest
Is there ever going to be a serious conversation about what the repercussions would be if Roe vs Wade was overturned? This is not a theoretical matter because it could really happen in the not too distant future, at which point the matter ceases to be about opposing talking points and transforms into nitty gritty details to be dealt with.
I respect someone sincerely having a Pro Life position but I’m tired of hearing politicians say “I’m pro life”, “I believe in the sactity of life”, “all lives are sacred” without then detailing a follow up plan.
Suppose Romney wins the election and eventually he’s able to appoint enough conservative Supreme Court justices to overturn Roe vs Wade.
So it’s now illegal for a woman (guy who contributed to the pregnancy bears no consequence of course, a major flaw in plan) to get an abortion. Penalty for breaking the law must be decided on.
Jail time seems ridiculous. So I guess you go with a hefty fine. But not everyone will be able to afford the fine. Jail time for those who can’t pay? Result, prisons overflowing with poor women.
Whatever penalty is decided on, let us assume it’s quite pursuasive. This means far fewer abortions, far more babies. The number of women who get pregnant without planning to parent will stay the same. After all, many of those who are anti-abortion are also illogically anti-contraceptives.
So now what? I will conservatively guess that the birth rate increases by 50%.
Women who wish to avoid the penalty for getting an illegal abortion (I won’t even get into the safety of the inevitable bootleg abortions from the network of unlicensed practicioneers that will emerge) decide to give birth even though they don’t want/plan to parent.
A percentage of these women will give a half hearted shot at raising the children. I'm going to say 20%. These are mostly poor, single women pushed to care for children they don’t want in their lives. The picture will not be pretty in those households but all that matters is squelching abortions.
But how about the other 80%? The attitude of these women is that you can make them carry to term but you can’t make them parent. 10% of these pregnancies are hidden and babies end up left in dumpsters.
Now we must deal with 70% of babies born to women who did not want and do not plan to raise them. The system (which takes various forms, much of it private/charitable, but much of it also government run or dependent on government money) will have to take care of these children. Adoption agencies and foster care system become overloaded but all that matters is squelching abortions.
I will generously assume that if you’re going to overturn Roe vs Wade you’re also going to pass laws that make adoption extremely affordable. As result, 25% of these children find welcoming homes.
It would be nice if all of these households had guaranteed healthcare. That’s a separate though certainly not unrelated matter for another day/post.
25% is probably too high a projection. After all, a fair number of the children will be the result of rape and even incest. This makes them way less adoptable. It’s not like reducing the cost of adoption means everyone becomes willing to do it. Many people have no interest in parenting, or no interest in parenting someone who is not their biological child. As for those who are willing (God bless them), they’ll have some restrictions (such as no can do if child is the result of violent rape) for obvious reasons.
But I’ll stick with my optimistic 25% guesstimate anyway. That leaves 45% of the babies whose biological mothers could/would not raise them going into the sytem.
Now as we know, the Romney/Ryan budget calls for making massive cuts to social services even though a massive INCREASE in funds to social services would be required to handle all of these children.
What we have here is another case of math that doesn’t add up. You want to “fix” our economy but simultaneously want to overturn a law that would eventually lead to a crippling of the economy. And keep in mind, this is the best case scenario I’m working with.
So maybe, just maybe, the issue isn’t quite so simple as saying “I’m pro life”, “I believe in the sactity of life”, “all lives are sacred”, “abortion is cold blooded murder that must be prevented at all cost”.
If that’s your stance, I understand and respect it. You believe in no exceptions other than perhaps when the life of the mother is at risk? Fine. I too wish that the number of abortions that occur each year considerably decreased, although since I am a man and cannot get pregnant, I’m not so arrogant as to think I have the right to tell a woman what she is allowed to do with her body. But if you are that arrogant/self righteous then I really need to hear your follow up plan. I need to know how many lives you are volunteering to care for if you insist on taking away women’s reproductive rights. If you are going to insist that every child be born then surely you will be doing your minimal share to address the consequences of this taking place. You don’t want to just overturn a rule of law and then let the chips fall where they may, correct? Not when those chips happen to be lives that you profess to care so much about.
If in fact you don’t have a follow up plan, then you need to go sit quiety in the corner and give more serious consideration to who you plan to vote for.
October 4, 2012
Judging Presidential Idol
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Who do you think won the first Presidential debate between Barack Obama and Mitt Romney? Well, according to a CNN poll 67% believe it was Mr. Romney. That number sounds about right when compared to an unofficial poll of my Twitter feed. If Romney won, this means Obama was the loser. I disagree on both counts. It’s apparent to me based not on the debate but reactions to it that the winner was Style, and the loser was Substance. Substance is specifically indicating how you intend to address a problem and why you believe it has a solid chance to be successful. As for an effective style, it seems some examples would be ignoring and/or speaking over the moderator, being loudest and the most demonstrative, in general coming off as more aggressive than anyone else in the room.
Now I find nothing wrong with being demonstrative/loud/aggressive (rudeness to moderator is less than charming but not a deal breaker), so long as this is the manner in which you are delivering facts and common sense and a well laid out plan. If instead you are vague, denying what I plainly heard you say just the other day, making grand promises without showing a shred of evidence as to how it’s possible to achieve them, then I don’t care how much flair you demonstrate. While writing this I had a flashback to that little old lady from the Wendy’s commercials. Where’s the beef, she would demand to know. Mitt Romney did better than many expected from him and Barack Obama was less animated than a great number of his supporters hoped for. Expectations held in advance strongly influence determinations made after the fact. But ask yourself this. How can you declare Romney to be “the winner” when his claims on stage were both toothless and beefless? Perhaps Mitt made a stronger impression on you, particularly in comparison to his previous bumbling and stumbling. But do you intend to vote for an impression or for the real deal? Will you vote for the man who says and proves by actions how he’ll maintain Medicare and Social Security, promote improvements in the education system, lower the unemployment rate and deficit, increase our independence from oil and the nations in possession of much of it, cut the middle class a break in hard times rather than making the rich richer? Or will you vote for the man who says he’ll do all of that too, but gives no indication of how he would accomplish anything other than the opposite?
Mitt Romney’s campaign for president has been full of contradictions and inconsistencies. At one time or another he has been on both sides of most issues. The most blatant instance is his assault on and promise to repeal a healthcare plan that is based on his own model from when he was governor of Massachusetts and still possessed 47% of the heart provided by the Wizard of Oz. There are not enough hours in the day, much less in a debate where you only get half of the alloted time, to point out every instance of Romney’s hypocrisy. Yet many wish that Barack Obama had highlighted considerably more of them than he got around to. Consider me one of those people. But please don’t declare that I am someone who thinks Romney won the debate, and definitely do not place me on Team Style. No, I ride with Substance all the way. President Obama’s agenda may not be perfect (perfection is impossible anyway when met with obstruction from the Senate at every turn), but it is a plausible solution. It is tempting to want and believe in quick fixes, explaining why so much money has been made off of diet pills even though we know calorie control and exercise are what works. Turning the economy around cannot be done overnight, and not simply because George W. Bush was given 8 years to mess it up. Slow and steady is a believable course of action, no matter that it makes us understandably impatient. Waving a magic wand while cutting taxes on the rich to instantly create 12 million jobs is a far less plausible plan. That’s true even when it’s proclaimed with fantastic showmanship.
Left leaning political pundits are in an uproar. Social media is in a tizzy. Mitt Romney won the debate, they cry. All is lost. Perhaps Romney did win the debate per your personal standards of what victory looks like. If you think all is lost, though, then you must believe that the “independent undecideds” are just as easily swayed by sound and fury that signifies nothing. Keep in mind that up until now nothing has been able to swing them one way or the other. How this can be the case continues to befuddle me. I’m not sure whether they number in the millions, the thousands, or the dozens. I have no idea if they’re spread throughout the country or reside together Big Brother style. What I do know is that those who support Obama still support the President, those who support Romney still support him, and talking softly while carrying a big stick tends to be more effective than empty handed shouting.
"At some point, the American people have to ask themselves if the reason that Governor Romney is keeping all these plans secret is because they're too good." - President Barack Obama
Fact Checks
Source: huffingtonpost.com via Edward on Pinterest
Who do you think won the first Presidential debate between Barack Obama and Mitt Romney? Well, according to a CNN poll 67% believe it was Mr. Romney. That number sounds about right when compared to an unofficial poll of my Twitter feed. If Romney won, this means Obama was the loser. I disagree on both counts. It’s apparent to me based not on the debate but reactions to it that the winner was Style, and the loser was Substance. Substance is specifically indicating how you intend to address a problem and why you believe it has a solid chance to be successful. As for an effective style, it seems some examples would be ignoring and/or speaking over the moderator, being loudest and the most demonstrative, in general coming off as more aggressive than anyone else in the room.
Now I find nothing wrong with being demonstrative/loud/aggressive (rudeness to moderator is less than charming but not a deal breaker), so long as this is the manner in which you are delivering facts and common sense and a well laid out plan. If instead you are vague, denying what I plainly heard you say just the other day, making grand promises without showing a shred of evidence as to how it’s possible to achieve them, then I don’t care how much flair you demonstrate. While writing this I had a flashback to that little old lady from the Wendy’s commercials. Where’s the beef, she would demand to know. Mitt Romney did better than many expected from him and Barack Obama was less animated than a great number of his supporters hoped for. Expectations held in advance strongly influence determinations made after the fact. But ask yourself this. How can you declare Romney to be “the winner” when his claims on stage were both toothless and beefless? Perhaps Mitt made a stronger impression on you, particularly in comparison to his previous bumbling and stumbling. But do you intend to vote for an impression or for the real deal? Will you vote for the man who says and proves by actions how he’ll maintain Medicare and Social Security, promote improvements in the education system, lower the unemployment rate and deficit, increase our independence from oil and the nations in possession of much of it, cut the middle class a break in hard times rather than making the rich richer? Or will you vote for the man who says he’ll do all of that too, but gives no indication of how he would accomplish anything other than the opposite?
Mitt Romney’s campaign for president has been full of contradictions and inconsistencies. At one time or another he has been on both sides of most issues. The most blatant instance is his assault on and promise to repeal a healthcare plan that is based on his own model from when he was governor of Massachusetts and still possessed 47% of the heart provided by the Wizard of Oz. There are not enough hours in the day, much less in a debate where you only get half of the alloted time, to point out every instance of Romney’s hypocrisy. Yet many wish that Barack Obama had highlighted considerably more of them than he got around to. Consider me one of those people. But please don’t declare that I am someone who thinks Romney won the debate, and definitely do not place me on Team Style. No, I ride with Substance all the way. President Obama’s agenda may not be perfect (perfection is impossible anyway when met with obstruction from the Senate at every turn), but it is a plausible solution. It is tempting to want and believe in quick fixes, explaining why so much money has been made off of diet pills even though we know calorie control and exercise are what works. Turning the economy around cannot be done overnight, and not simply because George W. Bush was given 8 years to mess it up. Slow and steady is a believable course of action, no matter that it makes us understandably impatient. Waving a magic wand while cutting taxes on the rich to instantly create 12 million jobs is a far less plausible plan. That’s true even when it’s proclaimed with fantastic showmanship.
Left leaning political pundits are in an uproar. Social media is in a tizzy. Mitt Romney won the debate, they cry. All is lost. Perhaps Romney did win the debate per your personal standards of what victory looks like. If you think all is lost, though, then you must believe that the “independent undecideds” are just as easily swayed by sound and fury that signifies nothing. Keep in mind that up until now nothing has been able to swing them one way or the other. How this can be the case continues to befuddle me. I’m not sure whether they number in the millions, the thousands, or the dozens. I have no idea if they’re spread throughout the country or reside together Big Brother style. What I do know is that those who support Obama still support the President, those who support Romney still support him, and talking softly while carrying a big stick tends to be more effective than empty handed shouting.
"At some point, the American people have to ask themselves if the reason that Governor Romney is keeping all these plans secret is because they're too good." - President Barack Obama
Fact Checks
September 25, 2012
Part II of Black Literature: Dead or Alive?
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Back in August of 2009 I wrote this blog posting, posing the hypothetical question of whether or not African American Literature is still alive. By using the term “literature” rather than books/novels/fiction I hoped to draw a distinction between works of obvious literary merit and cases where brilliance isn’t quite so recognizable. Full disclosure: I was referring to books (self published as well as traditionally) that I snobbishly found by and large to be drivel. No reading of interior content or even much cover copy is required to make a quick analysis. A glance at the ridiculous titles accompanied by absurd cover imagery tells you all you need to know, basically, that these books are the publishing equivalent of coarse, low budgeted, misogynistic, violence glorifying hip hop videos. And when it comes to art that objectifies half the human race and prettifies the spilling of blood while setting back civil rights and social status equity strides by decades, I prefer the slick, well produced variety. Whether the protagonist is a pimp, whore, drug dealer or all of the above, bottom line is that you’ll probably have to go through A LOT of them to find decent writing. And yet A LOT OF THEM is precisely the number being published annually. The genre of urgan/gangsta/street books threatened to dominate the arena of “black books”, and in so doing, was causing damage that just may have been irrevocable.
I am therefore happy to report in September of 2012 as we prepare to kick off Banned Books Week that African American Literature is alive and kicking and thriving, delighting readers of fiction with melanin. As evidence I point to the titles listed below. Each of them was published in the 21st century (since 8/09 I’ve read several excellent novels by black authors [Kindred, Middle Passage, The Intuitionist, Tumbling, Things Fall Apart, etc.] that were published prior to 2000 as well) and reviewed after my concerned blog post. Those with asterisks next to them were published in 2009 or later. They collectively serve notice that great books by authors of color continue to be published in respectable numbers, meaning that we do indeed have balance, and that works just fine for me. I am not the swiftest reader, otherwise my line-up of evidence would be more plentiful. In addition to the books I’ve gotten around to, my TO BE READ cup runneth over. Apparently great novels are being written faster than I can read them, and this is the best possible news for the state of literature in any category.
My cynicism sometimes carries me away, and the speculation of others is often way off the mark. Turns out that radio didn’t kill the radio star, eReaders haven’t murdered the printed word, self publishing has not knocked off literary fiction, there's no reason to incarcerate book bloggers for the homicide of literary criticism, and ‘hood books have not stopped great works by African American authors and/or about everyday African American lives from entering the marketplace. They could certainly be promoted with more vigor, but the same can be said for literary prose in general. Twilight may have revived vampire stories (in glitzy teen fashion, anyway), but it is AA Lit that has risen from critical condition.
A Mercy – Toni Morrison
John Henry Days – Colson Whitehead
* Sag Harbor – Colson Whitehead
* Silver Sparrow – Tayari Jones
* Black Betty – Walter Mosley
* The Last Days of Ptolemy Grey – Walter Mosley
Hunting in Harlem – Mat Johnson
The Warmest December – Bernice McFadden
* Salvage the Bones – Jesmyn Ward
ANNOUNCEMENT: In related news, the price of the print edition of PATCHES OF GREY at Amazon has been reduced from $12.95 to $9.95
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Source: amazon.co.uk via Lee-Lee on Pinterest
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Source: amazon.com via Amelia on Pinterest
Back in August of 2009 I wrote this blog posting, posing the hypothetical question of whether or not African American Literature is still alive. By using the term “literature” rather than books/novels/fiction I hoped to draw a distinction between works of obvious literary merit and cases where brilliance isn’t quite so recognizable. Full disclosure: I was referring to books (self published as well as traditionally) that I snobbishly found by and large to be drivel. No reading of interior content or even much cover copy is required to make a quick analysis. A glance at the ridiculous titles accompanied by absurd cover imagery tells you all you need to know, basically, that these books are the publishing equivalent of coarse, low budgeted, misogynistic, violence glorifying hip hop videos. And when it comes to art that objectifies half the human race and prettifies the spilling of blood while setting back civil rights and social status equity strides by decades, I prefer the slick, well produced variety. Whether the protagonist is a pimp, whore, drug dealer or all of the above, bottom line is that you’ll probably have to go through A LOT of them to find decent writing. And yet A LOT OF THEM is precisely the number being published annually. The genre of urgan/gangsta/street books threatened to dominate the arena of “black books”, and in so doing, was causing damage that just may have been irrevocable.
I am therefore happy to report in September of 2012 as we prepare to kick off Banned Books Week that African American Literature is alive and kicking and thriving, delighting readers of fiction with melanin. As evidence I point to the titles listed below. Each of them was published in the 21st century (since 8/09 I’ve read several excellent novels by black authors [Kindred, Middle Passage, The Intuitionist, Tumbling, Things Fall Apart, etc.] that were published prior to 2000 as well) and reviewed after my concerned blog post. Those with asterisks next to them were published in 2009 or later. They collectively serve notice that great books by authors of color continue to be published in respectable numbers, meaning that we do indeed have balance, and that works just fine for me. I am not the swiftest reader, otherwise my line-up of evidence would be more plentiful. In addition to the books I’ve gotten around to, my TO BE READ cup runneth over. Apparently great novels are being written faster than I can read them, and this is the best possible news for the state of literature in any category.
My cynicism sometimes carries me away, and the speculation of others is often way off the mark. Turns out that radio didn’t kill the radio star, eReaders haven’t murdered the printed word, self publishing has not knocked off literary fiction, there's no reason to incarcerate book bloggers for the homicide of literary criticism, and ‘hood books have not stopped great works by African American authors and/or about everyday African American lives from entering the marketplace. They could certainly be promoted with more vigor, but the same can be said for literary prose in general. Twilight may have revived vampire stories (in glitzy teen fashion, anyway), but it is AA Lit that has risen from critical condition.
A Mercy – Toni Morrison
John Henry Days – Colson Whitehead
* Sag Harbor – Colson Whitehead
* Silver Sparrow – Tayari Jones
* Black Betty – Walter Mosley
* The Last Days of Ptolemy Grey – Walter Mosley
Hunting in Harlem – Mat Johnson
The Warmest December – Bernice McFadden
* Salvage the Bones – Jesmyn Ward
ANNOUNCEMENT: In related news, the price of the print edition of PATCHES OF GREY at Amazon has been reduced from $12.95 to $9.95
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Source: flickr.com via Roy on Pinterest
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Source: flickr.com via Roy on Pinterest
September 18, 2012
Open Mouth - Grab Foot - Insert
"My only concern is the poor, especially minorities, blacks in particular. The rest are set so can fend for themselves." – Invisible Obama
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Even if that was how he feels (and it isn’t), the real live flesh and blood President Obama would never say such a foolish thing. Not during the heat of a campaign. Not in public. Not even behind doors he believed to be closed to the media. He learned his lesson about sounding even remotely condescending towards any group of people not serving in Congress the last go around. Yet there are plenty of people who believe my make believe quote to be an accurate summary of Obama’s point of view. Why? He’s a Democrat, ain’t he? He’s liberal, ain’t he? He’s Black, ain’t he? He’s not truly American regardless of where he was born, right? No matter what he says and does, there is a portion of the electorate that does not believe Obama gives priority to their interests. They require no evidence of this. That’s the beautiful thing about prejudice (not just talking race based prejudice either), it can’t be reasoned away because it’s incapable or recognizing things such as logic and common sense. Why believe their lying eyes when all that matters is what’s in their hearts?
Mitt Romney on the other hand did not need to carry the burden of appearing to care for only a select few. We didn’t assume that he’s only looking out for his select group of brethren from the start. After all, he has church service and a health care plan in Massachussets and even his “rescue mission” of the Olympic games to point to as evidence that he cares about ALL AMERICANS. Other selflish looking acts on Romney’s part may have given some people doubts about his character, but it would and should have been no great challenge for him to believably claim he’s running for President to help EVERYBODY. He’s a politician so of course he would have been viewed by the media and many voters with a degree of cynicism, even if he had a similar resume to that of Mother Teresa. Yet he should have been able to plausibly claim that he cares for that kid in the projects just as much as he does for that CEO who generously donated to his campaign. He merely needed to do a little acting. How difficult could that be? Romney has repeatedly shown he can appear to be convinced of one thing on Monday, and of the opposite being his belief by Friday. So surely he’d be able to make it to the end of a campaign without actually confessing that he could give a damn about nearly half the country. No way would he admit that he didn’t plan to preside on their behalf were we idiotic enough to elect him.
Guess again. The cat is out of the bag. It was a transparent bag so we could see the cat in there all along. But at least the feline was contained and therefore could do minimal damage. Now the critter is out and ready to race through all 9 of the Romney campaign’s lives. Mitt looks like a President, or so we’re supposed to believe. Appearances weren’t deceiving for long enough though. It didn’t take debating with the President to expose him. It didn’t take someone proving that he’s paid hardly any taxes over the years. It didn’t take making an absurdly dumb choice for vice president to be his undoing. Mitt Romney simply opened his mouth and told “his people” how he truly feels, because he didn’t think any of “the others” were listening in. There are a lot of others. I don’t know if the percentage is closer to 47% or 99% of the population, but it should be sufficient to make sure Mitt Romney never sees the inside of the White House unless he pays to take a tour.
"It’s hard to serve as president for all Americans when you’ve disdainfully written off half the nation.” – Obama campaign
“Had he (he being Mitt's dad, who was born in Mexico for fascinating reasons) been born of Mexican parents, I'd have a better shot of winning this.” - Mitt Romney
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On a completely unrelated note, please check out my interview with the blogger behind Layered Pages.
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Source: huffingtonpost.com via BT on Pinterest
Even if that was how he feels (and it isn’t), the real live flesh and blood President Obama would never say such a foolish thing. Not during the heat of a campaign. Not in public. Not even behind doors he believed to be closed to the media. He learned his lesson about sounding even remotely condescending towards any group of people not serving in Congress the last go around. Yet there are plenty of people who believe my make believe quote to be an accurate summary of Obama’s point of view. Why? He’s a Democrat, ain’t he? He’s liberal, ain’t he? He’s Black, ain’t he? He’s not truly American regardless of where he was born, right? No matter what he says and does, there is a portion of the electorate that does not believe Obama gives priority to their interests. They require no evidence of this. That’s the beautiful thing about prejudice (not just talking race based prejudice either), it can’t be reasoned away because it’s incapable or recognizing things such as logic and common sense. Why believe their lying eyes when all that matters is what’s in their hearts?
Mitt Romney on the other hand did not need to carry the burden of appearing to care for only a select few. We didn’t assume that he’s only looking out for his select group of brethren from the start. After all, he has church service and a health care plan in Massachussets and even his “rescue mission” of the Olympic games to point to as evidence that he cares about ALL AMERICANS. Other selflish looking acts on Romney’s part may have given some people doubts about his character, but it would and should have been no great challenge for him to believably claim he’s running for President to help EVERYBODY. He’s a politician so of course he would have been viewed by the media and many voters with a degree of cynicism, even if he had a similar resume to that of Mother Teresa. Yet he should have been able to plausibly claim that he cares for that kid in the projects just as much as he does for that CEO who generously donated to his campaign. He merely needed to do a little acting. How difficult could that be? Romney has repeatedly shown he can appear to be convinced of one thing on Monday, and of the opposite being his belief by Friday. So surely he’d be able to make it to the end of a campaign without actually confessing that he could give a damn about nearly half the country. No way would he admit that he didn’t plan to preside on their behalf were we idiotic enough to elect him.
Guess again. The cat is out of the bag. It was a transparent bag so we could see the cat in there all along. But at least the feline was contained and therefore could do minimal damage. Now the critter is out and ready to race through all 9 of the Romney campaign’s lives. Mitt looks like a President, or so we’re supposed to believe. Appearances weren’t deceiving for long enough though. It didn’t take debating with the President to expose him. It didn’t take someone proving that he’s paid hardly any taxes over the years. It didn’t take making an absurdly dumb choice for vice president to be his undoing. Mitt Romney simply opened his mouth and told “his people” how he truly feels, because he didn’t think any of “the others” were listening in. There are a lot of others. I don’t know if the percentage is closer to 47% or 99% of the population, but it should be sufficient to make sure Mitt Romney never sees the inside of the White House unless he pays to take a tour.
"It’s hard to serve as president for all Americans when you’ve disdainfully written off half the nation.” – Obama campaign
“Had he (he being Mitt's dad, who was born in Mexico for fascinating reasons) been born of Mexican parents, I'd have a better shot of winning this.” - Mitt Romney
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Source: lucilleandmitt.tumblr.com via Rachel on Pinterest
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Source: via Laurie on Pinterest
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Source: dogsagainstromney.com via Marina on Pinterest
On a completely unrelated note, please check out my interview with the blogger behind Layered Pages.
August 16, 2012
Handling Rejection for Dummies...I Mean Writers
I am nearing the completion of the final draft of my second novel, Matters of Convenience. Rather than self publishing such as I did with my first novel Patches of Grey, my plan is to start off on the traditional route. That means querying literary agents, hoping that this results in requests for the full manuscript, praying that it ends up in representation and that this eventually yeilds a publishing deal with one of the major players in the industry. Then all that's left to wish for is that a respectable number of copies get sold so things might go a little smoother the next go around. Along with querying and submitting and hoping and praying, also inevitable is rejection that must be shrugged off, perseverance that needs to take place. Nothing is guaranteed but the chances are great that an answer of NO (followed by multiple echoes) will be encountered prior to that elusive YES. If after some yet to be determined period of time a YES fails to materialize, Plan B goes into effect. But optimists don't think much about Plan B until Plan A has been exhausted. And optimism is the only option for a writer. Therefore the likelihood of rejections must be faced head on. Oh, did I mention that this year I'll also be looking to get a publishing deal for a children's book I've written that my wife will be illustrating? That means two separate channels of rejection will be in place. Not very pretty to picture. I need to motivate myself, and if any fellow writers/artists find their way to this blog posting, perhaps you will find encouragement as well. But what can I say that hasn't already been said eloquently by others? Not much. So I'm handing it off to them and that's what you'll find below, words of inspiration by those who fought the good fight and emerged victorious. Rejection doesn't discourage me, it just hardens my shell to help me bust through the wall. Also invaluable, having a sense of humor and an inflated ego. There will be no second person who believes in you and your talent if you aren't the first. The only way for a writer to handle rejection is self imposed amnesia. Then, even if you need to close your eyes, take your next shot.
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One last thing before the line-up of quotes. Independent Author Index Short Story Compilation, Volume 1 is now available at Amazon for those who read via Kindle and/or Kindle App. Featured in the compilation are two short stories of mine - "Decisions" and "The Kiss". Check it out!
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"I discovered that rejections are not altogether a bad thing. They teach a writer to rely on his own judgment and to say in his heart of hearts, "To hell with you." (Saul Bellow)
"The vital point to remember is that the swine who just sent your pearl of a story back with nothing but a coffee-stain and a printed rejection slip can be wrong. You cannot take it for granted that he is wrong, but you have an all-important margin of hope that might be enough to keep you going." (Brian Stableford)
"Believe in yourself and in your own voice, because there will be times in this business when you will be the only one who does. Take heart from the knowledge that an author with a strong voice will often have trouble at the start of his or her career because strong, distinctive voices sometimes make editors nervous. But in the end, only the strong survive. Readers return time and again to the unique, the distinctive, storytelling voice. They may love it or they may hate it, but they do not forget it." (Jayne Ann Krentz)
"This is for writers yet to be published who think the uphill climb will never end. Keep believing. This is also for published writers grown jaded by the process. Remember how lucky you are." (Terry Brooks)
"You must keep sending work out; you must never let a manuscript do nothing but eat its head off in a drawer. You send that work out again and again, while you're working on another one. If you have talent, you will receive some measure of success - but only if you persist." (Isaac Asimov)
"If you've FINISHED writing a novel you are amongst the elite!!! You ARE NOT A FAILURE IF YOU CANNOT LIVE OFF YOUR BOOKS. You only fail by NOT TRYING." (Nadia Cornier)
“Whether you think you can, or think you can't, you're probably right.” (Henry Ford)
"All writers are crazy. So never mind what the editors and your family and your critique group tells you. Submit your manuscripts and keep submitting until you get an offer. Then you can be crazy, with a paycheck." (MaryJanice Davidson)
“I will act as though what I do makes a difference. (William James)
“There is nothing in a caterpillar that tells you it's going to be a butterfly. (Buckminster Fuller)
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Source: media.nj.com via Roy on Pinterest
One last thing before the line-up of quotes. Independent Author Index Short Story Compilation, Volume 1 is now available at Amazon for those who read via Kindle and/or Kindle App. Featured in the compilation are two short stories of mine - "Decisions" and "The Kiss". Check it out!
[image error]
Source: indaindex.com via Roy on Pinterest
"I discovered that rejections are not altogether a bad thing. They teach a writer to rely on his own judgment and to say in his heart of hearts, "To hell with you." (Saul Bellow)
"The vital point to remember is that the swine who just sent your pearl of a story back with nothing but a coffee-stain and a printed rejection slip can be wrong. You cannot take it for granted that he is wrong, but you have an all-important margin of hope that might be enough to keep you going." (Brian Stableford)
"Believe in yourself and in your own voice, because there will be times in this business when you will be the only one who does. Take heart from the knowledge that an author with a strong voice will often have trouble at the start of his or her career because strong, distinctive voices sometimes make editors nervous. But in the end, only the strong survive. Readers return time and again to the unique, the distinctive, storytelling voice. They may love it or they may hate it, but they do not forget it." (Jayne Ann Krentz)
"This is for writers yet to be published who think the uphill climb will never end. Keep believing. This is also for published writers grown jaded by the process. Remember how lucky you are." (Terry Brooks)
"You must keep sending work out; you must never let a manuscript do nothing but eat its head off in a drawer. You send that work out again and again, while you're working on another one. If you have talent, you will receive some measure of success - but only if you persist." (Isaac Asimov)
"If you've FINISHED writing a novel you are amongst the elite!!! You ARE NOT A FAILURE IF YOU CANNOT LIVE OFF YOUR BOOKS. You only fail by NOT TRYING." (Nadia Cornier)
“Whether you think you can, or think you can't, you're probably right.” (Henry Ford)
"All writers are crazy. So never mind what the editors and your family and your critique group tells you. Submit your manuscripts and keep submitting until you get an offer. Then you can be crazy, with a paycheck." (MaryJanice Davidson)
“I will act as though what I do makes a difference. (William James)
“There is nothing in a caterpillar that tells you it's going to be a butterfly. (Buckminster Fuller)
August 14, 2012
IMAGINE
Several years back I used to write a monthly sports column for Suite101.com. For a good while after I moved on to other things my collection of articles remained archived there. Eventually the archive was eliminated. Quite a few of my articles were picked up by other outlets so can still be found online, but many of them vanished for good. The majority of these pieces were time sensitive, pertinent to a particular event. But a number of them are relatively timeless because the world of sports, much like the world at large, often operates in a cyclical manner. Yesterday’s news revisits today’s front pages and then fades away only to return again…and again…and again. When I wrote about the relationship between steroids and high profile athletes I did not bother to name names. Sports fans will recognize who I’m referencing in most if not all of the cases. But the names are basically interchangeable, as are the sets of circumstances. The primary difference between them is that some were caught red handed and with others there is a sliver a room for doubt. Ben Johnson, Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens, Marion Jones, Lance Armstrong, Manny Pacquiao, Usain Bolt. There have been many others. There will be many others. Tests to catch them will grow increasingly sophisticated. New concoctions will be created to temporarily stay one step ahead of officials. Some athletes will be caught and proven guilty. Some will be caught and acquitted due to lack of sufficient proof. Some will never be officially accused, merely speculated about. Some we’ll remain clueless about. Round and round it goes. And so I’m reprinting IMAGINE here at A Line A Day because even though I wrote it way back in the day, I may as well have written it ten minutes ago…or ten minutes from now.
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Imagine if you are a fanatic about professional wrestling. You watch with baited breath as your heroes do battle against their arch enemies. The combatants are bigger than life. There is something quite theatrical about their outlandish personalities, costumes, and storylines. The bad guys are so obviously bad, the good guys somehow overcome tremendous adversity and stacked odds to prevail time and time again. Yet nothing about this strikes you as suspicious, much less preposterous. Perhaps you are still too young and naive to be jaded. That will come later. Imagine if you are a true believer in the muscle bound men who defy gravity and logic, only to be told one day that it's staged, a scripted carnival act choreographed for your entertainment. Imagine how you would feel when this deception was brought to light. Imagine the sense of betrayal, the end of your innocence.
If that scenario doesn't disturb you, then try any of the following on for size, because unlike professional wrestling, there has never been any question that these sports are supposed to be for real.
Imagine if you found out that your favorite boxers were on the take, their bouts rigged from the outset by gangsters who control the sport you love. Imagine discovering that your favorite shoeless ballplayer and his teammates were bribed to throw the World Series for fast cash. Imagine if the player you most admired due to his grit and hustle was a gambling addict who bet on his own team's games when he became a manager.
If you can imagine all of that without your heart breaking, then perhaps we should move beyond history and on to current events. Imagine if players in the sport you love are growing bigger, faster, stronger, and better by the day. Imagine if they easily demolish records that had seemed set in stone and capable of withstanding the test of time. Imagine idolizing these men who take to the field of play with their bats and gloves and perform one amazing feat after another. Imagine if you believe you are living in a time when several of the greatest men ever to play the game are simultaneously demonstrating their out-of-this-world abilities, surpassing the milestones of the game's legends. Imagine how exciting this would be. Imagine how riveted and uplifted you would be. Imagine how lucky you would consider yourself to be. Imagine the wonderment that would fill your soul at the crack of the bat and soaring of the ball into the blue yonder.
Imagine now if those many blasts over the right, left, and centerfield fences turn out to have been artificially produced.
Imagine if the world's fastest couple was merely the world's most doped up couple, running not so much on adrenalin as on pharmaceuticals. Imagine if the accusations turn out to be true, that you've been deceived, that the pursuit of excellence you admired was chemically assisted. Imagine if those world records and Olympic medals are tainted.
Imagine if it all turned out to be a mirage, nothing but smoke and mirrors. Imagine if you invested your hopes, lived vicariously through the exploits of these men and women, were crushed by their losses and exhilarated by their victories, only to learn that it is nothing but a drug induced fabrication. Imagine if you come to realize that you have not been witnessing the glorious acts of extraordinary athletes, but rather, the remarkable results of steroid use. Imagine if your role models are proven to be cheaters and liars. Imagine if you no longer feel you can trust your eyes. Imagine if you decide to stop admiring and aspiring to be like these athletes, because they have proven themselves to be little more than con artists. How would you feel?
Imagine.
Points of views other than my own fence straddling one: This article is cynical about intents of the media rather than athletes regarding steroid accusations.
This writer thinks it likely that Usain Bolt (but not Michael Phelps) was the doping star of 2012 Summer Olympics.
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Source: 87.117.196.60 via Roy on Pinterest
Imagine if you are a fanatic about professional wrestling. You watch with baited breath as your heroes do battle against their arch enemies. The combatants are bigger than life. There is something quite theatrical about their outlandish personalities, costumes, and storylines. The bad guys are so obviously bad, the good guys somehow overcome tremendous adversity and stacked odds to prevail time and time again. Yet nothing about this strikes you as suspicious, much less preposterous. Perhaps you are still too young and naive to be jaded. That will come later. Imagine if you are a true believer in the muscle bound men who defy gravity and logic, only to be told one day that it's staged, a scripted carnival act choreographed for your entertainment. Imagine how you would feel when this deception was brought to light. Imagine the sense of betrayal, the end of your innocence.
If that scenario doesn't disturb you, then try any of the following on for size, because unlike professional wrestling, there has never been any question that these sports are supposed to be for real.
Imagine if you found out that your favorite boxers were on the take, their bouts rigged from the outset by gangsters who control the sport you love. Imagine discovering that your favorite shoeless ballplayer and his teammates were bribed to throw the World Series for fast cash. Imagine if the player you most admired due to his grit and hustle was a gambling addict who bet on his own team's games when he became a manager.
If you can imagine all of that without your heart breaking, then perhaps we should move beyond history and on to current events. Imagine if players in the sport you love are growing bigger, faster, stronger, and better by the day. Imagine if they easily demolish records that had seemed set in stone and capable of withstanding the test of time. Imagine idolizing these men who take to the field of play with their bats and gloves and perform one amazing feat after another. Imagine if you believe you are living in a time when several of the greatest men ever to play the game are simultaneously demonstrating their out-of-this-world abilities, surpassing the milestones of the game's legends. Imagine how exciting this would be. Imagine how riveted and uplifted you would be. Imagine how lucky you would consider yourself to be. Imagine the wonderment that would fill your soul at the crack of the bat and soaring of the ball into the blue yonder.
Imagine now if those many blasts over the right, left, and centerfield fences turn out to have been artificially produced.
Imagine if the world's fastest couple was merely the world's most doped up couple, running not so much on adrenalin as on pharmaceuticals. Imagine if the accusations turn out to be true, that you've been deceived, that the pursuit of excellence you admired was chemically assisted. Imagine if those world records and Olympic medals are tainted.
Imagine if it all turned out to be a mirage, nothing but smoke and mirrors. Imagine if you invested your hopes, lived vicariously through the exploits of these men and women, were crushed by their losses and exhilarated by their victories, only to learn that it is nothing but a drug induced fabrication. Imagine if you come to realize that you have not been witnessing the glorious acts of extraordinary athletes, but rather, the remarkable results of steroid use. Imagine if your role models are proven to be cheaters and liars. Imagine if you no longer feel you can trust your eyes. Imagine if you decide to stop admiring and aspiring to be like these athletes, because they have proven themselves to be little more than con artists. How would you feel?
Imagine.
Points of views other than my own fence straddling one: This article is cynical about intents of the media rather than athletes regarding steroid accusations.
This writer thinks it likely that Usain Bolt (but not Michael Phelps) was the doping star of 2012 Summer Olympics.
