Daniel Clausen's Blog, page 38
October 21, 2017
Jennifer (Sage and the Scarecrow)
Project Summary:
The following is from my 2004 novel The Sage and the Scarecrow. At the moment, I am revising the chapters from this book into 3-4 page short stories for posting on my blogs and in literary magazines.
You can read the entire revised first chapter of “Sage and the Scarecrow” here:
https://www.wattpad.com/314113958-pur...
The Novel in Short: Six months after his father has died from cancer, Pierce finds himself in a state of anxiety and crisis. The book follows Pierce through a journey to find his best friend and the only person he thinks can “cure” him.
*
Jennifer
In the picture that I have stuck between the pages of the Tao Teh Ching Jennifer is wearing her glasses with thick black plastic frames proudly as a testament to her geekdom. Whenever I think of her, I always think of her with those same thick black frames around her eyes.
When I’d first met Jennifer she told me that she was embarrassed of her glasses—she always told me that she wished her frames could be the thin metal ones that people could hardly see. But she never got new frames, and I never understood why.
Eventually, I think she grew to love the thick black frames because she loved the way people looked at her with them. She said to me once that the best thing to be is weird because then you have the advantage of seeing people without the benefit of the familiar: you see them at their least superficial sometimes (unless that’s all there is), sometimes surprised, sometimes inflexible, cautious, capricious, hateful, genuine, or maybe they even give you a little weirdness in return.
A year ago was the last time I’d talked to her and she told me that she had briefly considered getting new glasses. Since then, I hadn’t really talked to her and I sometimes wondered if she ever followed through with her threat.
The following is from my 2004 novel The Sage and the Scarecrow. At the moment, I am revising the chapters from this book into 3-4 page short stories for posting on my blogs and in literary magazines.
You can read the entire revised first chapter of “Sage and the Scarecrow” here:
https://www.wattpad.com/314113958-pur...
The Novel in Short: Six months after his father has died from cancer, Pierce finds himself in a state of anxiety and crisis. The book follows Pierce through a journey to find his best friend and the only person he thinks can “cure” him.
*
Jennifer
In the picture that I have stuck between the pages of the Tao Teh Ching Jennifer is wearing her glasses with thick black plastic frames proudly as a testament to her geekdom. Whenever I think of her, I always think of her with those same thick black frames around her eyes.
When I’d first met Jennifer she told me that she was embarrassed of her glasses—she always told me that she wished her frames could be the thin metal ones that people could hardly see. But she never got new frames, and I never understood why.
Eventually, I think she grew to love the thick black frames because she loved the way people looked at her with them. She said to me once that the best thing to be is weird because then you have the advantage of seeing people without the benefit of the familiar: you see them at their least superficial sometimes (unless that’s all there is), sometimes surprised, sometimes inflexible, cautious, capricious, hateful, genuine, or maybe they even give you a little weirdness in return.
A year ago was the last time I’d talked to her and she told me that she had briefly considered getting new glasses. Since then, I hadn’t really talked to her and I sometimes wondered if she ever followed through with her threat.
October 16, 2017
A Splash of Red
You decide today isn’t the day.
You look next to you, in the bed you two have shared for two years, at a time when shopping together was cute and fun and the world still seemed to have meaning, that’s where she is. And somehow, to you, at this time, in the a-little-over-two-years of marriage, she seems too perfect to disturb.
Today, it’s too easy to forget that she told you that she had started sleeping with other men to “motivate you” (her honest-to-God words). You had heard her right, hadn’t you? She had used the word “men” in the plural, right? Or, perhaps that was just your imagination.
No, today isn’t the day, you tell yourself.
You can finish reading this story on Yellow Mama:
http://blackpetalsks.tripod.com/yello...
You look next to you, in the bed you two have shared for two years, at a time when shopping together was cute and fun and the world still seemed to have meaning, that’s where she is. And somehow, to you, at this time, in the a-little-over-two-years of marriage, she seems too perfect to disturb.
Today, it’s too easy to forget that she told you that she had started sleeping with other men to “motivate you” (her honest-to-God words). You had heard her right, hadn’t you? She had used the word “men” in the plural, right? Or, perhaps that was just your imagination.
No, today isn’t the day, you tell yourself.
You can finish reading this story on Yellow Mama:
http://blackpetalsks.tripod.com/yello...
October 14, 2017
The Great “ReejecttIIon” PDF Giveaway
There is currently a giveaway of the word-extravaganza and all-around great book of fun literary stuff -- “ReejecttIIon - A Number Two”.
In honor of the historic day when the two authors of this book actually had enough money to sponsor this Goodreads giveaway, we will be giving away free PDF copies to people willing to write reviews on Goodreads and Amazon.
You can request a free PDF by emailing Daniel directly at: ghostsofnagasaki (at) gmail (dot) com
You can check out the giveaway here:
https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/sh...
You can read a description of the book and reviews here:
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/2...
And now some questions and funny anecdotes:
What is ReejecttIIon (in plainer language than currently exists elsewhere on the web)?
The book is the second part of a series we hope will grow little by little into a movement. Without knowing exactly what this movement will be, we can speculate.
*A Monty Python type conglomeration of literary sketches and silly tidbits. Brilliant, but edgy.
*A Saturday Night Live in its glory days for writers -- something akin to Eddie Murphy’s “James Brown Celebrity Hot Tub Party” sketch or Will Ferrell’s “More Cowbell” sketch. (And yes, in hindsight the book needed more cowbell!)
*A place where writers can feel good about the burn of rejection in its many forms.
What evil corporations and dark forces are sponsoring the book?
None. But not for lack of trying. We were rejected by all of them.
Does the fact that you two often describe the book as “experimental” mean that you guys are pretentious jerks who feel validated by your lack of success?
Yes.
What’s your response to the often used greeting “Whazzup!”?
Whazzup…..buuuddy!
Since you have described your book project as the literary version of Saturday Night Live, how would you write the literary version of Eddie Murphy’s “James Brown Celebrity Hot Tub”?
James Brown contemplated the frothing water, the steam seeped into his brain little by little. Since birth he had been burdened by a genius-level intellect that often left his mouth reeling from the intensity of his own super intelligence.
“Owwwww….good God!” was a way to describe the infinitesimal pain that his nerves incurred when he tried to express the level of his intelligence verbally.
Now, rendered little more than a slave to the vulgar tastes of a dimwitted popular culture, there was nothing left to do but enter the hot tub. And yet his dignity rebelled.
“Oww….it’s a hot tub…hot in the hot tub” was just another way to express his outrage at the absurdity of the universe and his own futility to overcome it.
To be (James Brown in a hot tub), or not to be (James Brown in a hot tub)? That is the question...good God!
Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer the agony of stepping into a hot tub with a microphone “Owww….good God!”
Or to take arms against a sea of cameras with a well-aimed monologue on the need for social justice in America
Ow….good God! It’s racism...good God!
And by doing so, end his fame
To die, to sleep
No more -- and by sleep to say we end the agony of the hot tub.
Ow....good God! It’s hot! In the hot tub!
October 9, 2017
Call me Pierce
Call me Pierce.
Some years ago -- never mind how long precisely -- having little money and quite a bit more grief and self-loathing than was sensible, I went on a journey to find the love of my life. She would cure me of my ennui and restore my faith in humanity, I thought.
Mystical journeys -- they are a way to ward off the unhealthy habits of steady work, prime time television, talk radio, and (un)reality TV. Whenever I find myself drawn to too many hours of reading dead authors and my eyes begin to strain to see simple things, like the smiles of children or the smell of fresh salt air; whenever withdrawing from the world becomes as easy as breathing or drinking cold water in summer; then it is high time for another mystical journey.
To find another lost friend? To find another lost soul? To find the beauty in the world? Shall the first paragraph of a long-dead book become the impetus for yet another journey? The fantastic, majestic, and beautiful call to me once again.
*A heartfelt thank you to Herman Melville and his fantastic novel "Moby Dick" for providing the inspiration for this bit of writing.
The passage was written in the voice of the protagonist from my first novel "The Sage and the Scarecrow".
The book is out of print (a new edition may be forthcoming in the future).
But you can read a revised version of the first chapter of the book here:
https://www.wattpad.com/314113958-pur...
Some years ago -- never mind how long precisely -- having little money and quite a bit more grief and self-loathing than was sensible, I went on a journey to find the love of my life. She would cure me of my ennui and restore my faith in humanity, I thought.
Mystical journeys -- they are a way to ward off the unhealthy habits of steady work, prime time television, talk radio, and (un)reality TV. Whenever I find myself drawn to too many hours of reading dead authors and my eyes begin to strain to see simple things, like the smiles of children or the smell of fresh salt air; whenever withdrawing from the world becomes as easy as breathing or drinking cold water in summer; then it is high time for another mystical journey.
To find another lost friend? To find another lost soul? To find the beauty in the world? Shall the first paragraph of a long-dead book become the impetus for yet another journey? The fantastic, majestic, and beautiful call to me once again.
*A heartfelt thank you to Herman Melville and his fantastic novel "Moby Dick" for providing the inspiration for this bit of writing.
The passage was written in the voice of the protagonist from my first novel "The Sage and the Scarecrow".
The book is out of print (a new edition may be forthcoming in the future).
But you can read a revised version of the first chapter of the book here:
https://www.wattpad.com/314113958-pur...
October 6, 2017
Ramblin Man Reflections # 5 - If Gump were Lazy, He Would Walk Like I Do
I thought I could just walk. That that would solve all my problems.
I once had a friend who had a rough high school experience. That seems to be every well-adjusted non-asshole in the world, actually -- "I had a rough high school experience." He said he got through it by walking the shit out of this forest near his house.
That seemed to me such an elegant solution. Just walk your problems away. (A football coach's solution, Walk it off!) The smell of pine and cedar and dirt, and the sound of crickets and your own breathing.
It would be amazing. But lately, I feel like there isn't enough walking in the world to make the world be quiet. The world is loud, so damned loud. And even a four-hour walk can't make the high school stupidity of the world shut the fuck up.
So, what's the solution? I walk and walk and walk until my life is one long walk. It's like a lazy version of that scene from Forrest Gump.
Maybe Forrest Gump was trying to escape the high school stupidity of the world too. He just had more energy and ambition than I do.
Want more soulful reflections and short stories? Try this book:
Something to Stem the Diminishing
I once had a friend who had a rough high school experience. That seems to be every well-adjusted non-asshole in the world, actually -- "I had a rough high school experience." He said he got through it by walking the shit out of this forest near his house.
That seemed to me such an elegant solution. Just walk your problems away. (A football coach's solution, Walk it off!) The smell of pine and cedar and dirt, and the sound of crickets and your own breathing.
It would be amazing. But lately, I feel like there isn't enough walking in the world to make the world be quiet. The world is loud, so damned loud. And even a four-hour walk can't make the high school stupidity of the world shut the fuck up.
So, what's the solution? I walk and walk and walk until my life is one long walk. It's like a lazy version of that scene from Forrest Gump.
Maybe Forrest Gump was trying to escape the high school stupidity of the world too. He just had more energy and ambition than I do.
Want more soulful reflections and short stories? Try this book:
Something to Stem the Diminishing
October 4, 2017
Ramblin Man Reflections # 3 - Magical Bohemians and Where to Find Them
Romcoms are the worst kind of movies because they trivialize bohemian existences. In a rom-com, there was this guy who owned a travel bookstore and seemed miraculously to never be poor enough to want to eat his own books. He would have these meetings with his coworker about how much money they were losing, all while sipping from his premium store-bought hot chocolate.
Owning a travel bookstore! That's an amazing thing, but it's also a trivial one -- something that is never explained in the movie. And that makes it a tragedy because I was much more interested in how to run a travel bookstore than all the other romantic clap-trap that followed.
Another one, a guy riding a motorcycle, taking photos throughout Europe. That's amazing! How did he do it? Never explained.
I want a film called “The Practical Description of Magical Bohemians”.
At this point, you're wondering why I've spent so much time watching romantic comedies.
That, my dear reader, is a trivial question left for a different Ramblin Man Reflection.
Owning a travel bookstore! That's an amazing thing, but it's also a trivial one -- something that is never explained in the movie. And that makes it a tragedy because I was much more interested in how to run a travel bookstore than all the other romantic clap-trap that followed.
Another one, a guy riding a motorcycle, taking photos throughout Europe. That's amazing! How did he do it? Never explained.
I want a film called “The Practical Description of Magical Bohemians”.
At this point, you're wondering why I've spent so much time watching romantic comedies.
That, my dear reader, is a trivial question left for a different Ramblin Man Reflection.
October 1, 2017
Jake in the World of 2008 (short story)
The pay phone was just off to the side of the souvenir shop where you could now get freshly-brewed coffee and espresso drinks. The boardwalk was quiet because it was a weekday and it was unusually cold. He was still wearing his shorts because he hadn't had the energy to dig his jeans out of the clothes in the duffle bag in the trunk of his old 2005 Pontiac Grand Am. He did have on his sweater and he had a pocketful of change from the tray of his car.
If it were a nicer day, he would have surfed before calling his sister, even though it was winter. But it was too damned cold and he needed to get his life sorted out. That was his thought at the time -- Let me get all my shit out of my car and into my sister's place and then I'll surf some of my frustration out. (He also hoped to raid her fridge.)
He didn't know how he was going to explain himself to his sister. Something, something, I dropped out of college. Something, something, I need a place to crash. Hopefully, it would be that easy. Hopefully, she was too busy to guilt trip him.
He was surprised the pay phone even worked. He pulled out his cell phone, the one without service to check his sister's phone number one last time.
There was the sticker for a local rock band on the side of the payphone -- Grilled SharkRays. He dialed his sister's number and then stared at the logo for the band. As the phone rang, he realized just how old the sticker was. He'd been a freshman in high school when that band had played at the local music festival. He picked at the sticker with his fingernails.
"Hello."
"Hey sis, it's me."
It took her a second to realize who he was.
"Jake? What? Why're you calling me? Why aren't you calling from your cell phone?"
"I didn't pay my bill for this month."
"Well, that was dumb."
He couldn't be sure, but she sounded more judgmental than usual.
He briefly thought about telling her that he was running out of money, that he only had about ten more dollars in his pocket and had already run up his credit card. But then he held back. He couldn't take more of her bitchy judgment at the moment.
"I need a place to stay. I was hoping to crash at your place. "
There was silence on the phone. After a few seconds of silence, he wondered if he had run out money for the phone call.
He tried saying something else. "I left university and need a place to stay."
He looked at the Grilled SharkRays sticker and wondered if he could peel the thing off whole. He'd love to put it on the inside of the driver's side door.
Now there was more silence. He fished around in his pocket for some more change. Then he heard something.
"Now's not the best time. I'm in Ormond." Maybe they'd just been cut off for a moment.
"That's okay. I can get the spare key and let myself in."
He thought he heard something. Was it crying? Was it the sound of crying from big older sister. The strong one of the family?
When she spoke next, though, she sounded tough (a fake toughness?). "It's just a really, really shitty time right now."
Her lecture started off something like this. "You know, Jake, ever since mom and dad passed in that fucking accident, I've tried to be like a parent to you. I've tried to..." He tuned her out like he normally did. It was the judgmental "something-something" of her lectures that bored him the same way his college lectures had bored him. More adults talking at him. Still, the fact that she was giving a lecture made him feel better.
He couldn't put his finger on it exactly, but it seemed like something in the world was dying. He fingered the cracked plastic on the pay phone as she talked. And it was only later that he realized her lecture might have been half-hearted.
Later, he saw the foreclosure sign on his sister's apartment and was in disbelief. Wait, wasn't she rich? She'd bragged endlessly about her six figures the year before. Wasn't she doing well in real estate? Only later did he find out that it was only one of six apartments his sister owned, all under foreclosure. It was 2008, and many people were waking up to new realities, not excluding Jake.
Jake was a college dropout with ten dollars in his pocket, a surfboard on the roof of his car, a pile of clothes that needed to be washed, a wetsuit on top of those clothes, and nowhere to sleep for the night.
The wider realities of this new world of 2008 would have to wait until he'd found a place to crash.
If it were a nicer day, he would have surfed before calling his sister, even though it was winter. But it was too damned cold and he needed to get his life sorted out. That was his thought at the time -- Let me get all my shit out of my car and into my sister's place and then I'll surf some of my frustration out. (He also hoped to raid her fridge.)
He didn't know how he was going to explain himself to his sister. Something, something, I dropped out of college. Something, something, I need a place to crash. Hopefully, it would be that easy. Hopefully, she was too busy to guilt trip him.
He was surprised the pay phone even worked. He pulled out his cell phone, the one without service to check his sister's phone number one last time.
There was the sticker for a local rock band on the side of the payphone -- Grilled SharkRays. He dialed his sister's number and then stared at the logo for the band. As the phone rang, he realized just how old the sticker was. He'd been a freshman in high school when that band had played at the local music festival. He picked at the sticker with his fingernails.
"Hello."
"Hey sis, it's me."
It took her a second to realize who he was.
"Jake? What? Why're you calling me? Why aren't you calling from your cell phone?"
"I didn't pay my bill for this month."
"Well, that was dumb."
He couldn't be sure, but she sounded more judgmental than usual.
He briefly thought about telling her that he was running out of money, that he only had about ten more dollars in his pocket and had already run up his credit card. But then he held back. He couldn't take more of her bitchy judgment at the moment.
"I need a place to stay. I was hoping to crash at your place. "
There was silence on the phone. After a few seconds of silence, he wondered if he had run out money for the phone call.
He tried saying something else. "I left university and need a place to stay."
He looked at the Grilled SharkRays sticker and wondered if he could peel the thing off whole. He'd love to put it on the inside of the driver's side door.
Now there was more silence. He fished around in his pocket for some more change. Then he heard something.
"Now's not the best time. I'm in Ormond." Maybe they'd just been cut off for a moment.
"That's okay. I can get the spare key and let myself in."
He thought he heard something. Was it crying? Was it the sound of crying from big older sister. The strong one of the family?
When she spoke next, though, she sounded tough (a fake toughness?). "It's just a really, really shitty time right now."
Her lecture started off something like this. "You know, Jake, ever since mom and dad passed in that fucking accident, I've tried to be like a parent to you. I've tried to..." He tuned her out like he normally did. It was the judgmental "something-something" of her lectures that bored him the same way his college lectures had bored him. More adults talking at him. Still, the fact that she was giving a lecture made him feel better.
He couldn't put his finger on it exactly, but it seemed like something in the world was dying. He fingered the cracked plastic on the pay phone as she talked. And it was only later that he realized her lecture might have been half-hearted.
Later, he saw the foreclosure sign on his sister's apartment and was in disbelief. Wait, wasn't she rich? She'd bragged endlessly about her six figures the year before. Wasn't she doing well in real estate? Only later did he find out that it was only one of six apartments his sister owned, all under foreclosure. It was 2008, and many people were waking up to new realities, not excluding Jake.
Jake was a college dropout with ten dollars in his pocket, a surfboard on the roof of his car, a pile of clothes that needed to be washed, a wetsuit on top of those clothes, and nowhere to sleep for the night.
The wider realities of this new world of 2008 would have to wait until he'd found a place to crash.
September 28, 2017
Movie Break with Dustin and J.P.
Dustin and J.P. are taking a break from their business world antics.
Why don't you take a break with them in this segment of Dustin and J.P. at the movies?
Guest appearances by Ben Affleck and Alec Baldwin!
https://www.wattpad.com/474531354-the...
Why don't you take a break with them in this segment of Dustin and J.P. at the movies?
Guest appearances by Ben Affleck and Alec Baldwin!
https://www.wattpad.com/474531354-the...
September 27, 2017
Daring to Think Weird about International Relations
I usually don't use this forum to promote my academic writing. However, I just published a short essay on Medium that I'm particularly proud of.
The essay is entitled "Daring to Think Weird about International Relations". I hope you'll check it out.
https://medium.com/@ghostsofnagasaki/...
The essay is entitled "Daring to Think Weird about International Relations". I hope you'll check it out.
https://medium.com/@ghostsofnagasaki/...
September 24, 2017
The Welshman Returns
You think you know me from what that American dude wrote about me in his novel, The Ghosts of Nagasaki.
Think I'm some slovenly Welsh cunt that just up and rolled out of bed one day and popped into a novel, do you? A bit of comic relief here? A bit of social commentary there? European flavor of the week?
That Florida boy has told some Burger King whoppers in his time, flipped a Big Mac lie here and there, and he has a way of taking the piss out of people that can make you look like the cuntiest cunt that ever cunted up a city. Had me whipping my one-eyed trouser monster at karaoke (never happened) or at least that's what my mate told me who read the book.
Still, I did have one too many trips, though it wasn't acid so much as the ecstasy that made Mr. Sparkles appear. Wasn't no lizard or dragon either. Was my childhood teddy bear that came to life. He was pink, though, and filled with sparkles.
Questioning my manhood, are you? No bother to me, mate. Not sure if this makes a difference. Not sure if any of these fucking words are going cure a genital wart or feed some starving baby in Africa. About as useful as a bag of wank...that's something my younger self would have said. My older self now works in finance and is creating the biggest fucking turd of a financial instrument that's going to end the world. Naw, just kidding, but I am trying to find the right kind of ecstasy pill to get me through my dull-as-fuckity-fuck day job.
*A special thank you to The Welshman from my novel for returning for this blog post. Now piss off, reader, and buy a copy of my book, The Ghosts of Nagasaki, before I starve to death.
Here it is:
https://www.amazon.com/Ghosts-Nagasak...
Chop. Chop.
Think I'm some slovenly Welsh cunt that just up and rolled out of bed one day and popped into a novel, do you? A bit of comic relief here? A bit of social commentary there? European flavor of the week?
That Florida boy has told some Burger King whoppers in his time, flipped a Big Mac lie here and there, and he has a way of taking the piss out of people that can make you look like the cuntiest cunt that ever cunted up a city. Had me whipping my one-eyed trouser monster at karaoke (never happened) or at least that's what my mate told me who read the book.
Still, I did have one too many trips, though it wasn't acid so much as the ecstasy that made Mr. Sparkles appear. Wasn't no lizard or dragon either. Was my childhood teddy bear that came to life. He was pink, though, and filled with sparkles.
Questioning my manhood, are you? No bother to me, mate. Not sure if this makes a difference. Not sure if any of these fucking words are going cure a genital wart or feed some starving baby in Africa. About as useful as a bag of wank...that's something my younger self would have said. My older self now works in finance and is creating the biggest fucking turd of a financial instrument that's going to end the world. Naw, just kidding, but I am trying to find the right kind of ecstasy pill to get me through my dull-as-fuckity-fuck day job.
*A special thank you to The Welshman from my novel for returning for this blog post. Now piss off, reader, and buy a copy of my book, The Ghosts of Nagasaki, before I starve to death.
Here it is:
https://www.amazon.com/Ghosts-Nagasak...
Chop. Chop.
