Caroline Gerardo's Blog, page 40

Every Cloud Has a Silver Lining

Carson (my son) and I helped a friend yesterday. Well, we
attempted to assist, but the boon doggle turned into a comedy. Sometimes being me is a bit cloudy.



Bob is my friend for twenty some years. He has a gruff voice. In 2009 he bought a condo for his x-wife (not out of legal obligation he has paid in full and then some). She had been unemployed
for more than two years. Bob paid the bills for the condo and supplemented
her income saying, “I will never allow the Mother of my children to fail.”



The x-wife decided to move east and found employment leaving the
condo, unfortunately due to economic times, underwater. Rather than sell the
condo for a loss, Bob decides to rent the unit. His new tenant does not want the
refrigerator she left in the unit.

I’m handy, I have a
refrigerator dolly and a teenage son who is strong. We volunteer to help move
the refrigerator from the second story and give it to the Habitat for Humanity
house being built in San Juan (thus offering assistance to several people as
the Habitat house is being donated to an injured Marine and his family).

We load the dolly and strapping material in the back of my
car and go pick up Bob. He fuddles around trying to locate the keys for twenty minutes.




While we are waiting I come up
with the brilliant idea of the day, “Let’s move the refrigerator first to the
downstairs garage before we go and rent a truck to move it.”

After an hour of shuffling the refrigerator
we come to realize the thing is not going to make it down the narrow, freshly
painted stairwell. (This is discovered with the three of us half way down and
the right side gouging the drywall). We vote to move the box back up. In doing
so I see my iron dolly is all rusted on the bottom and we have tracked rust
shavings all over the carpet and stairs. Now it is time to go drive back home,
get the vacuum, patch the wall, call the ex-wife to find out how that refrigerator ever got up
the stairs and make new plans.



Hours later we come to understand, the only way to get something this large
on the second floor is with a lift over the balcony. New tenant can keep this
refrigerator upstairs and install his own double wide one in the downstairs
garage. The cost to rent a lift far exceeds the value of a silly ice box. I
call the Habitat people and tell them, “no gift.” They happen to have the
equipment to solve the problem and will do it for free.



Every cloud has a silver lining, or thank heavens we didn’t
rent the truck before we found out the dang thing can’t make it down the
stairs. Hope your day is happy.

Sunflowers In My Garden

 

Fix Your Lipstick, Your True Love is here.

 

http://www.marcopoloartsmag.com/#Lost...My poem Lo...

http://www.marcopoloartsmag.com/#Lost-Angeles

My poem Lost Angeles in Marco Polo Arts Magazine






















Lost Angeles



Adam speaks now.



In sentences, not only pointing, expressing hunger or the need to potty. The moment happened in between answering emails, and smelling meatloaf. A divination performed without a rod.



“Is it still edible, or goes to the dogs, or will it bring bad omens?”



A kite found.



I am no expert at flying, you have the pilot license, my wings clipped. A parakeet hops on the granite countertops tossed aside. My lost angel wings from Halloween sold in the garage sale.



“I determine to glide the thin hawk.”



Adam speaks now.



“Mom ’les go to Crestwood Hills Park. You run fast.” He brings the string wadded up, “No stroller, I’m a big boy.” It’s a simple kite, not a tetrahedral box of infinite variant. I cut messengers arcs of origami pieces of lavender paper. Neat slits in the centers thread holes. The string slides through to the prayer button.



“ ’les put a note to Dad on them.”



A respectable height.



We count slug bugs. Adam waves at the man with cardboard sign: Maps to Stars homes. The smell of summer dirt mixes on Adams hands and pocket rocks in the washing machine. Los Angeles County court system does not adjudicate to the best interests of children.



“I am blessed with hours never to be replaced by ghosts or movies.”



Adam speaks now.



“Mom, mmm peanut butter. My kite’s great.” He pats the thin frame before my dash. Down the hill, I sail pulled by the framework towards heaven. Catching wind chants my parachute propelling on L.A. Westside air. My breath blows night blooming jasmine, “Jupiter and Venus dance together in the sky.”



We lift off.

Drive in Writing Your New Life

This white canvas represents the remainder of your life.

Please fill in the blanks with important information.

Tell me about how it feels to hold your only child,

 share the fading sorrow of losing your first goldfish,

dare to try something, and fail horribly; then get up,

smile while we work until our legs cramp at night.

Create stories to make us

stay up all night with a flashlight.




Together

we can fix it.

Ask me,

I will pray

for your courage,

wisdom and

a little fortune.







Copyright Caroline Gerardo 2012

Meet Caroline Gerardo Author of The Lucky Boy 05/01 by Wise Bear Books | Blog Talk Radio

Meet Caroline Gerardo Author of The Lucky Boy 05/01 by Wise Bear Books | Blog Talk Radio

Win The Pulitzer Fiction Prize

"Writer as Circus Dog Howling Stories"





No one wins in fiction?

It seems Un-American.




As a writer, I sometimes feel the marketing, competitions,

and ranking is contrary to creating art.

Winning a Pulitzer is after all, big business. A Pulitzer sells through your next couple of books, aligns paid speaking engagements and lines up the glory of tenured professorship. Thank you very much Columbia.




All three are shortlisted books are five stars.  However, I am going to speculate on why none of the front runners actually "won." My opinions here are as from the mind of a judge, wringing their hands on making the right decision. I believe failing to make choice is wrong, bad and flawed .




Three books were "shortlisted" Swamplandia by Karen Russell, Train Dreams by Denis Johnson, and The Pale King by David Foster Wallace. It is not that there were no good books to read in this past year, I believe the problem is in the three choices. 

First, Russell's (I loved it- the southern topic and the dazzle of her writing) -but book is quirky right from the cover. It is an American story, but a tad too contrapuntal with the ordinary and the bizarre the first person narrative jumping to third. The Pulitzer for fiction is ultimately supposed to represent the best American telling a great American tale. Second, Johnson's Novella though beautiful and moving is just too short to win. I can only fault the number of pages as the reason why it cannot stand in history with some of the other big boys  (save two exceptions) And finally The Pale King, Wallace's look into the dull soul of the IRS and the lonely secrets of mindful moments. It is a wonder. Again I add my hat on head as Pulitzer judge, it is unfinished and I dare say having met the man and read the other works some of the voice is "over-edited," (may not all be his ?).







Pony who leads the show









In the light that no choice was made I ask all my writer, reader, and friends with opinions to vote for the Pulitzer. You may nominate your own work, you may vote as many time as your little heart desires. Open your heart and your brain to vote in my comments section. Vote for one of the three above.

You ask - Prizes?

Winner with most votes (comments) will be mailed the Not a Pulitzer trophy ( being created from duct tape as you read this), $20 Amazon gift Certificate hopefully you will be buying books, and some nice brain cactus ( if your country of origin allows me to ship).  










Copyright ©2012 Caroline Gerardo

All photographs are Caroline Gerardo's and not to be used in any format without written permission

Merlin Magic

Spring in my knees.

A new feeling,

let go of blanket,

muffled moths

in the sound of my voice.

After grieving for a long calendar

(one that friends and foes told me was too long)




Throw it in the compost pile.

Red worms reduce paper to silt.




Orogolomistician surgery on my soul

 performed overnight after months without sleep.

Thanks Merlin for your healing magic.




Something is upon me,

fire burned the farm to the cellar 

creating better soil.




Courage and my sword return

after Arthur borrowed them from my stone.




I do not care about your cruelty -

it grew change.




Not the I don't care girl-




I adore faces, relatives, friends who remain. 

They magically block my cell phone to avoid any slip.









Copyright

© 2012 Caroline Gerardo All rights reserved for photographs and poetry.

Mourning Dove

Morning Dove (mourning ) Caroline Gerardo copyright 2012






Mourning Dove



"What do you want for your birthday?"



"For him to return the heater in my nest."



"Start over after loss of eggs to the crows?"



"Yes to waken in the morning to



his call oo-wahh-hoo oho oho."



"Sounds like an owl."



"No."



She is us, before sunrise with me.



Say to be his only one.



A message of spirit growth



outside my window before the alarm clock.



Oho oho.

The Lucky Boy starring Seth McGrath

Givaway of my novel, The Lucky Boy. All you need to do is comment to be entered to win a copy.



Seth McGrath, the character in The Lucky Boy, is a boy his parents do not love. He arranges illegal street fights between homeless men for betting pool money in Pennsylvania of 1972.



In order to write about the fight scenes I studied in a Mixed Martial Arts studio. I was a kickboxer years ago but in 2010 I practiced Muay Thai, MMA, and Jui-Jitsu to understand the technical movements of fighting. I had some bruises and sore hands but the fitness training was amazing






Fighting Hands




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