Peter Prasad's Blog: Expletives Deleted, page 8
July 15, 2013
A Perfect Storm of Suspects
The Gordonston Ladies Dog Walking Club by Duncan Whitehead.
Here’s a fun read that becomes a perfect storm of suspects. This rich murder pot-boiler is endearingly Miss. Marpel-esque in its pace and a Goodread’s finalist for 2013 Readers' Favorite in the humor category. I hope Dunc' wins.
English author Whitehead does crime in an off-handed character-driven was that is charming and filled with gentility. Laps around a dog-walker’s park lead to Argentina and Paris and red herrings galore. Some of the characters deserve Spanish Moss growing in their hair. So join the Club. Huzzah for Whitehead. More please. 5 Stars.
Here’s a fun read that becomes a perfect storm of suspects. This rich murder pot-boiler is endearingly Miss. Marpel-esque in its pace and a Goodread’s finalist for 2013 Readers' Favorite in the humor category. I hope Dunc' wins.
English author Whitehead does crime in an off-handed character-driven was that is charming and filled with gentility. Laps around a dog-walker’s park lead to Argentina and Paris and red herrings galore. Some of the characters deserve Spanish Moss growing in their hair. So join the Club. Huzzah for Whitehead. More please. 5 Stars.
June 27, 2013
GOAT-RIPPER pics & a scene, pg. 118
Save Words: See Pics at PeterPrasad@Pinterest.com
However I'm a writer, so meet the two good guys, Jake and Hap, who go after the wicked wine adulterater. I hang with imaginary characters most of my writing day. ON'YA.
Sonoma Knight:Goat-Ripper Case, pg.118
Hap sat, enthroned behind his desk, in the center of the room. His desk was clutter-free except for a gold-framed photo of Sonya supine, nude, suggestively draped by a blue silk sheet. On a redwood credenza behind the desk under a wall of south-facing paneled glass sat a tray of more than 20 orchids in individual baskets. Jake was instantly reminded of Tanya’s tattoos.
Hap’s office had plenty of boy-toys: a Bowflex, a Treadmill, a golf swing practice booth, a rowing machine, a padlocked rack of hunting rifles and shotguns. A row of framed photos showed Hap with several world leaders from the last two decades. A Lionel HO-gage electric train track wound across the floor.
In the corner stood an authentic set of knight’s armor in polished black metal, circa 17th century France. Jake noticed the inlaid sign of the lily on the chest and visor, hallmark of the French Plantagenet kings.
Hap volunteered, following Jake’s gaze on the armor: “Sonya wants me to wear it to our wedding. I said, no way. I’d look like a can of spam.” He paused while Jake chuckled.
- due about July 4 - CHEERS!
However I'm a writer, so meet the two good guys, Jake and Hap, who go after the wicked wine adulterater. I hang with imaginary characters most of my writing day. ON'YA.
Sonoma Knight:Goat-Ripper Case, pg.118
Hap sat, enthroned behind his desk, in the center of the room. His desk was clutter-free except for a gold-framed photo of Sonya supine, nude, suggestively draped by a blue silk sheet. On a redwood credenza behind the desk under a wall of south-facing paneled glass sat a tray of more than 20 orchids in individual baskets. Jake was instantly reminded of Tanya’s tattoos.
Hap’s office had plenty of boy-toys: a Bowflex, a Treadmill, a golf swing practice booth, a rowing machine, a padlocked rack of hunting rifles and shotguns. A row of framed photos showed Hap with several world leaders from the last two decades. A Lionel HO-gage electric train track wound across the floor.
In the corner stood an authentic set of knight’s armor in polished black metal, circa 17th century France. Jake noticed the inlaid sign of the lily on the chest and visor, hallmark of the French Plantagenet kings.
Hap volunteered, following Jake’s gaze on the armor: “Sonya wants me to wear it to our wedding. I said, no way. I’d look like a can of spam.” He paused while Jake chuckled.
- due about July 4 - CHEERS!
June 12, 2013
GOAT-RIPPER: What 2-cents/wd. buys
WHAT? I was reading some nut-job in a forum who says "he don't need no editor or proofer". In the nicest way, I blew my stack. Here's what I said.
Write the best book you can. Leave it rest then come back at it with rested eyes. Cut. Cut. Cut. Then give it to an editor. If you have plot problems or character conflicts, hire a developmental editor. Hollywood is filled with script doctors that punch up action and cut off soliloquies.
If your manuscript needs LIPOSUCTION (we all do), the rock-bottom rate is 2-cents a word. It's worth tons more. Then give it to Beta readers. Then to a Line Editor who reads every sentence backwards and all dialog out loud. In the end, the author owns every word.
Here are changes in GOAT-RIPPER that my priceless editor Temma made:
a) Give a 20-something character a redemption scene; she’s not THAT stupid.
b) Punch up the hooks and get the plot moving from page one. Note: I dislike reading thrillers paced for cardiac-arrest; however I like to watch Bourne-again races.
When I read, I want to feel the setting (it’s a hidden character) and enjoy discovering what makes the characters do their do.
c) Update the local tavern to a place where more hipsters hang out, but don’t touch the music in the juke box. It’s golden.
d) Threaten rape & mayhem more often. Men stop thinking when that happens.
e) Add more face-offs between evil Wild Bill and Bronze Star Jake Knight.
f) Cut half the background context about making cheese. This was hard. I made cheese every weekend for a year to get to know my subject.
g) Cut the smarty-arty and crank the pulse-pounding. This was easy. I forego sleep until I can’t think straight. After ten words in a sentence, my brain pools to oatmeal. Period.
It took me days to digest Temma's suggestions, but now I'd paint her toe nails. I did rescue three things and say: Sorry that how the story goes.
After all this, the last Beta reader found 10 typos, subject-verb conflicts, weird author awkward-isms, a minor plot stumble and other indulgences. Frick, the Kindle-cognoscenti woulda ate me.
In short, YOU ARE YOUR BOOK, so be a great one. or do it solo and read like another term paper.
At Out-of-Doors School on Siesta Key, I’m confident GOAT-RIPPER gets an A-. The minus is for three potty-mouth words, but then bad guys talk that way in crime thrillers, huh.
On’ya, dear readers!
Write the best book you can. Leave it rest then come back at it with rested eyes. Cut. Cut. Cut. Then give it to an editor. If you have plot problems or character conflicts, hire a developmental editor. Hollywood is filled with script doctors that punch up action and cut off soliloquies.
If your manuscript needs LIPOSUCTION (we all do), the rock-bottom rate is 2-cents a word. It's worth tons more. Then give it to Beta readers. Then to a Line Editor who reads every sentence backwards and all dialog out loud. In the end, the author owns every word.
Here are changes in GOAT-RIPPER that my priceless editor Temma made:
a) Give a 20-something character a redemption scene; she’s not THAT stupid.
b) Punch up the hooks and get the plot moving from page one. Note: I dislike reading thrillers paced for cardiac-arrest; however I like to watch Bourne-again races.
When I read, I want to feel the setting (it’s a hidden character) and enjoy discovering what makes the characters do their do.
c) Update the local tavern to a place where more hipsters hang out, but don’t touch the music in the juke box. It’s golden.
d) Threaten rape & mayhem more often. Men stop thinking when that happens.
e) Add more face-offs between evil Wild Bill and Bronze Star Jake Knight.
f) Cut half the background context about making cheese. This was hard. I made cheese every weekend for a year to get to know my subject.
g) Cut the smarty-arty and crank the pulse-pounding. This was easy. I forego sleep until I can’t think straight. After ten words in a sentence, my brain pools to oatmeal. Period.
It took me days to digest Temma's suggestions, but now I'd paint her toe nails. I did rescue three things and say: Sorry that how the story goes.
After all this, the last Beta reader found 10 typos, subject-verb conflicts, weird author awkward-isms, a minor plot stumble and other indulgences. Frick, the Kindle-cognoscenti woulda ate me.
In short, YOU ARE YOUR BOOK, so be a great one. or do it solo and read like another term paper.
At Out-of-Doors School on Siesta Key, I’m confident GOAT-RIPPER gets an A-. The minus is for three potty-mouth words, but then bad guys talk that way in crime thrillers, huh.
On’ya, dear readers!
June 11, 2013
Young Woman to Divine Being - a Review
No Mud, No Lotus: A Memoir of Sex, Betrayal, and Spiritual Awakening by Maya Yonika and Ben Jayston (Apr 26, 2013 - Amazon)
I've been in the wake-up traditions for 40 years. Maya knows her stuff. This book is as formative for her generation as Siddhartha (1922), Grist for the Mill by Ram Das and Cutting through Spiritual Materialism by Trunkpa. Please give it to every woman you love.
I believe we have entered a time wherein women learn best from other women. They know the trials and tribulations they suffer, and a few know how to turn that life experience into fuel for spiritual growth. This is the kind of book that tells that kind of story.
As a man, I was born in the wrong body to do that kind of work. But I'm raising daughters and they both have copies of Maya's book. It saves me hours of embarrassing conversations.
In my family, we support each other with a smile, a grin and the occasional 'Thanks, Pop'. Maya's book is a catalyst for their growth.
We may get some mud-splatter on the wall, but I'm confident my gals will par the course.
Once they commit, once they decide to take advantage of this life in order to grow brighter, to walk toward wake-up and use every step and every decision and every mistake to get closer to their True Nature -- then they are on their way and my fatherly duties are done. So you may find me in my hammock re-reading Maya's book.
Am I a champion of women circa 2013 -- You Bet! I can't wait to read what Maya chooses to write about next. Shucks, I'm a friend and a fan.
So if you're inclined to play with matches and seek out the dynamite, dig into Maya's book. All the best!
I've been in the wake-up traditions for 40 years. Maya knows her stuff. This book is as formative for her generation as Siddhartha (1922), Grist for the Mill by Ram Das and Cutting through Spiritual Materialism by Trunkpa. Please give it to every woman you love.
I believe we have entered a time wherein women learn best from other women. They know the trials and tribulations they suffer, and a few know how to turn that life experience into fuel for spiritual growth. This is the kind of book that tells that kind of story.
As a man, I was born in the wrong body to do that kind of work. But I'm raising daughters and they both have copies of Maya's book. It saves me hours of embarrassing conversations.
In my family, we support each other with a smile, a grin and the occasional 'Thanks, Pop'. Maya's book is a catalyst for their growth.
We may get some mud-splatter on the wall, but I'm confident my gals will par the course.
Once they commit, once they decide to take advantage of this life in order to grow brighter, to walk toward wake-up and use every step and every decision and every mistake to get closer to their True Nature -- then they are on their way and my fatherly duties are done. So you may find me in my hammock re-reading Maya's book.
Am I a champion of women circa 2013 -- You Bet! I can't wait to read what Maya chooses to write about next. Shucks, I'm a friend and a fan.
So if you're inclined to play with matches and seek out the dynamite, dig into Maya's book. All the best!
June 7, 2013
Wine & Cheese & Murder
GOAT-RIPPER is being formatted into a e-book for mid-June. Paper to follow. Please save room on your beach towel.
Here's what early readers say:
"You do every Marine proud."
"Nash Bridges' daring, Steinbeck's eye and Vonnegut's heart."
Here's the opening:
Jake heard a sad goat cry as he woke from his last nap in Redwoods hospital.
HUZZAH authors all. We face the blank white sheet every morning and we'd better learn to worship our readership if we want to sail very far.
On'ya. Best to ya!
Here's what early readers say:
"You do every Marine proud."
"Nash Bridges' daring, Steinbeck's eye and Vonnegut's heart."
Here's the opening:
Jake heard a sad goat cry as he woke from his last nap in Redwoods hospital.
HUZZAH authors all. We face the blank white sheet every morning and we'd better learn to worship our readership if we want to sail very far.
On'ya. Best to ya!
May 30, 2013
INSERT SEX SCENE HERE
I swear that’s what the note from my editor said. Like a have an extra one in my pocket?
Some of you may be able to pop them out like cupcakes, but I like a bath and a facial, a long drive in the country, appetizers and yummy bites, and desert, before desert.
That’s why I order breakfast in bed and linger in, hoping for seconds.
CHEER: Well, GOAT-RIPPER is all done, professionally edited, proofed & polished, except for a final sex scene.
I’ve always wanted to write about a trapeze, so maybe I have an idea.
It’s because my mother was once a costumer for the circus. And that’s a true bit of our family myth. Anyway, Mom, this book’s for you. Now exactly how did I get here? Oh yeah, the sailor suit.
RULE: I’ve heard that every sentence must advance the character or the plot. In a crime thriller, like GOAT-RIPPER, sex is not a plot point.
It’s a character-building interlude. Unless my P.I. Jake Knight is shooting high-def video on a serial fill-in-the-blank for a client. Then we lay low waiting for low-light conditions.
“Ready to roll tape, your honor? May we dim the lights?”
Jake Knight has always wanted to say that. With judges today, ya never know.
What plays in one community sure doesn’t in another. And Sonoma is no different.
My favorite Beta reader comment to date? “You do every Marine proud.”
That means, men, you have permission to read Peter Prasad’s book Sonoma Knight: The Goat-Ripper Case.
Due Flag Day. June 14th. Kindle willing. At ease.
Best to you, dear reader. Save room for wine & cheese & murder this summer.
Cheers!
Some of you may be able to pop them out like cupcakes, but I like a bath and a facial, a long drive in the country, appetizers and yummy bites, and desert, before desert.
That’s why I order breakfast in bed and linger in, hoping for seconds.
CHEER: Well, GOAT-RIPPER is all done, professionally edited, proofed & polished, except for a final sex scene.
I’ve always wanted to write about a trapeze, so maybe I have an idea.
It’s because my mother was once a costumer for the circus. And that’s a true bit of our family myth. Anyway, Mom, this book’s for you. Now exactly how did I get here? Oh yeah, the sailor suit.
RULE: I’ve heard that every sentence must advance the character or the plot. In a crime thriller, like GOAT-RIPPER, sex is not a plot point.
It’s a character-building interlude. Unless my P.I. Jake Knight is shooting high-def video on a serial fill-in-the-blank for a client. Then we lay low waiting for low-light conditions.
“Ready to roll tape, your honor? May we dim the lights?”
Jake Knight has always wanted to say that. With judges today, ya never know.
What plays in one community sure doesn’t in another. And Sonoma is no different.
My favorite Beta reader comment to date? “You do every Marine proud.”
That means, men, you have permission to read Peter Prasad’s book Sonoma Knight: The Goat-Ripper Case.
Due Flag Day. June 14th. Kindle willing. At ease.
Best to you, dear reader. Save room for wine & cheese & murder this summer.
Cheers!
May 22, 2013
Why I Love my Editor
Here I sit, looking like the bald-headed biker on a bar stool. Most folks think I’m guarding the bathroom door, so they go outside. Well, it’s all because I’VE BEEN EDITED. I gave her the Hope diamond and get back a glittery tennis bracelet.
NEWS: SONOMA KNIGHT: THE GOAT-RIPPER CASE will be ready for you by Flag Day June 14th. it's a sexy romantic crime thriller set in the heart of wine country. The research was awesome.
GOAT-RIPPER came back from my editor Temma et.al. and it’s been lipo-suctioned without sedatives. Reduced to a filth-grade reading level (ok, 10th grade) but IT SINGS ANGELIC NOW. My virgin queen returned a tawdy tart called art vox populi. I love her little scar and sundry orchid tattoos. We waltz a one-armed lalapalooza.
Every Papa gets growing pains. Mine start in both big toes and end with a headache. Drugs are no help; I favor dregs.
I cried at her ripped bodice and soiled slippers. She lost her tidy whities in the undergrowth. When the clock chimed midnight, her Venetian carriage popped a pumpkin and my bodkin splattered a wall painter’s T-shirt.
Frick if this biker didn’t weep. No sleep. I needed a nap before I could paint on a brave new face for the human race.
So whadda-ya-get? GOAT-RIPPER is a slam dunk three-point outside shot with lotsa air. Warning to Air Jordan. Steph Curry and me be hanging with Buster Posey for Inspiration Ah Hum.
We’re in it ALL THE WAY. GURL-POSSE and GUT-CHECK will be e-book ready by Turkey Day so you can wallpaper your loved ones for Xmas. I have a goal. It keeps me out of jail.
We’ve yanked the anchor to set sail out back the badlands like the motorcycle mol on Highway One Neil Young sings about. We have motion; we have Ocean. Leave your life vest off and jump into life, feet forward, ass hanging out.
I love this writer’s life. Sink or swim, we pay coin at River Stix no matter the condition we’re in.
Huzzah, Barkeep, make mine a triple latte Kenya Gold, double dollop whipped cream and dash the Malagasy vanilla. Set 'em up for my writer friends all round. We have writing to do.
Come join my tribe. We wear feathers and howl at the moon. Dance barefoot and delight plant and animal kingdoms. We line dance in concentric circles to bongo drums.
Cue orchestra, Bolero, if you please. Play Come & Go Blues at interlude. Free popcorn. I swear to champion life and love my neighbor until my last full stop. Then please have me re-printed, re-covered and re-issued. I oath genre-bending until I wear out my britches.
I accept this writer’s fate and wish for but one more life to give my readers. No blindfold. No cheroot. Fire at will.
I shall be reborn with 26 new characters tomorrow. You bet. SEMPER FRICKIN’ FRY. Jake Knight reminds me, I’m a writer and anything can happen.
NEWS: SONOMA KNIGHT: THE GOAT-RIPPER CASE will be ready for you by Flag Day June 14th. it's a sexy romantic crime thriller set in the heart of wine country. The research was awesome.
GOAT-RIPPER came back from my editor Temma et.al. and it’s been lipo-suctioned without sedatives. Reduced to a filth-grade reading level (ok, 10th grade) but IT SINGS ANGELIC NOW. My virgin queen returned a tawdy tart called art vox populi. I love her little scar and sundry orchid tattoos. We waltz a one-armed lalapalooza.
Every Papa gets growing pains. Mine start in both big toes and end with a headache. Drugs are no help; I favor dregs.
I cried at her ripped bodice and soiled slippers. She lost her tidy whities in the undergrowth. When the clock chimed midnight, her Venetian carriage popped a pumpkin and my bodkin splattered a wall painter’s T-shirt.
Frick if this biker didn’t weep. No sleep. I needed a nap before I could paint on a brave new face for the human race.
So whadda-ya-get? GOAT-RIPPER is a slam dunk three-point outside shot with lotsa air. Warning to Air Jordan. Steph Curry and me be hanging with Buster Posey for Inspiration Ah Hum.
We’re in it ALL THE WAY. GURL-POSSE and GUT-CHECK will be e-book ready by Turkey Day so you can wallpaper your loved ones for Xmas. I have a goal. It keeps me out of jail.
We’ve yanked the anchor to set sail out back the badlands like the motorcycle mol on Highway One Neil Young sings about. We have motion; we have Ocean. Leave your life vest off and jump into life, feet forward, ass hanging out.
I love this writer’s life. Sink or swim, we pay coin at River Stix no matter the condition we’re in.
Huzzah, Barkeep, make mine a triple latte Kenya Gold, double dollop whipped cream and dash the Malagasy vanilla. Set 'em up for my writer friends all round. We have writing to do.
Come join my tribe. We wear feathers and howl at the moon. Dance barefoot and delight plant and animal kingdoms. We line dance in concentric circles to bongo drums.
Cue orchestra, Bolero, if you please. Play Come & Go Blues at interlude. Free popcorn. I swear to champion life and love my neighbor until my last full stop. Then please have me re-printed, re-covered and re-issued. I oath genre-bending until I wear out my britches.
I accept this writer’s fate and wish for but one more life to give my readers. No blindfold. No cheroot. Fire at will.
I shall be reborn with 26 new characters tomorrow. You bet. SEMPER FRICKIN’ FRY. Jake Knight reminds me, I’m a writer and anything can happen.
May 11, 2013
SAVOR SLOWLY. MIME IF YOU CAN. CONTEST TOO.
HUZZAH! Celebrate for me. GOAT-RIPPER has gone to its editor in NYC. Temma (Yale/Newsweek/Nano-technology) rips with red pencils. I like professional editors. My readers deserve the best. When my Atari word processor is hot and clicking, I typo my own name.
Temma is a story arc bender. She rifles my luggage to save characters. She made me teach Vannie how to sharpen her stiletto heels and tatoo on Koch Semper’s face. I don’t know why Vannie changed to use a hammer. But, I’m often off wrong chasing Buddhas, windmills and Pan’s grin.
GENESIS: RIPPER started as I painted an old fence red in San Jose. It was a rental. The paint had fumes. By October I had 14 chapters out of order. Then I painted 6 rooms white, stuffed turkey, stuffed stockings and tossed confetti. (Rice is more benign) The Ides of March arrived with 33 chapters plus weirdoes between sheets shouting. I needed help. Romans had mozerella; we survived by trading with Celts.
REVELATION: I read bits at Slaughterhouse Five review group. They bled me. Cast me into passive voice hell. Made me hunt action verbs. Simple, more blood.
It rained. My garden flooded. Nature called me outside. My garden sprang 9 colors. I bobbed up in Mother Ocean almost satisfied. Then Temma called.
RIPP-AH (as the Ah-staail-yans say) is Way Overboard on Sizzle. So my neighbor called the Fire Chief. They raced over, read RIPPER and wet their yellow fire-retarded outfits.
WHAT HAPPENS? My publisher gunna kill me. OK so, this newbie PI Jake Knight, well, he lives. He’s pissed he’s so air-dried with bullet holes. The divine dakini tattooed-Tanya waltzes in and plugs him good. Kissy face, OMG…..
THE YARN is about how Jake Knight earned those kisses. Tanya’s kisses are precious; they never go on sale. She’s wicked in the kitchen. Jake ate Kale Chips to find out. Now he does dishes and licks her plate.
THIS BLOGGER yelled, Scare their pajamas off. I sleep naked, fuggetabout-it. Wicked Bliss & Jaw-breaking Joy are better rewards. I whipped some up. Hide your cheese in a pillow case for the chase scene. The soggy blogger lost out to my Delete key. Cue dairy sheep. Baaaahhd!
On’ya. Aussie slang for ‘that was a good/great thing you said/did’. I found it on Twitter. I go snooping there. You? Amazing what-up with 6 million blurb-stirs. So far, On’ya’s my favorite Twitter-bit.
Ever go dipping at naked beach? The cops haul you off in a costume. Use gobs of sun shade? Trip over sand all summer? Dance the Bare-Foot Bootie?
Great, then hit me. If you must look, I’m the brown as a beetle-nut job. The oldie-goldie with rhythm below the spume off-shore body-surfing. What I mean is:
48 book-length rolled-up bottles of SONOMA KNIGHT: THE GOAT-RIPPER CASE in e-book format are FREE off e-AMAZON in mid-June. It’s a sexy romantic thriller set in the heart of wine country. (Tuns of research)
THE RULES:
1. Submit to PeterPrasad.SF@gmail.com on/after Memorial Day, May 27th.
2. Limited supply: first 50 e-books
3. Headline must say: FREE May 10th Baaah-Baaah Blog - EXPLATIVES DELETED.
4. Text must say: Winners unwind every great yarn.
5. All entries dated May 12th Mothers Day – automatic e-winners.
6. E-edition only. Delivered via Amazon e-gift mid-June. Why? Peter Prasad is in league with redwood trees. No quibbling allowed.
THANK YOU. As budding buns-of-steel newbie Sonoma private investigator and decorated Afghan-vet Jake Knight may say, ‘What can go wrong will go wrong, so have a nice day.’
The Librarian is giving me dirty looks. Folks are cued for this Net hook-up.
Gotta fly. Go Lightly. ON’YA!
Temma is a story arc bender. She rifles my luggage to save characters. She made me teach Vannie how to sharpen her stiletto heels and tatoo on Koch Semper’s face. I don’t know why Vannie changed to use a hammer. But, I’m often off wrong chasing Buddhas, windmills and Pan’s grin.
GENESIS: RIPPER started as I painted an old fence red in San Jose. It was a rental. The paint had fumes. By October I had 14 chapters out of order. Then I painted 6 rooms white, stuffed turkey, stuffed stockings and tossed confetti. (Rice is more benign) The Ides of March arrived with 33 chapters plus weirdoes between sheets shouting. I needed help. Romans had mozerella; we survived by trading with Celts.
REVELATION: I read bits at Slaughterhouse Five review group. They bled me. Cast me into passive voice hell. Made me hunt action verbs. Simple, more blood.
It rained. My garden flooded. Nature called me outside. My garden sprang 9 colors. I bobbed up in Mother Ocean almost satisfied. Then Temma called.
RIPP-AH (as the Ah-staail-yans say) is Way Overboard on Sizzle. So my neighbor called the Fire Chief. They raced over, read RIPPER and wet their yellow fire-retarded outfits.
WHAT HAPPENS? My publisher gunna kill me. OK so, this newbie PI Jake Knight, well, he lives. He’s pissed he’s so air-dried with bullet holes. The divine dakini tattooed-Tanya waltzes in and plugs him good. Kissy face, OMG…..
THE YARN is about how Jake Knight earned those kisses. Tanya’s kisses are precious; they never go on sale. She’s wicked in the kitchen. Jake ate Kale Chips to find out. Now he does dishes and licks her plate.
THIS BLOGGER yelled, Scare their pajamas off. I sleep naked, fuggetabout-it. Wicked Bliss & Jaw-breaking Joy are better rewards. I whipped some up. Hide your cheese in a pillow case for the chase scene. The soggy blogger lost out to my Delete key. Cue dairy sheep. Baaaahhd!
On’ya. Aussie slang for ‘that was a good/great thing you said/did’. I found it on Twitter. I go snooping there. You? Amazing what-up with 6 million blurb-stirs. So far, On’ya’s my favorite Twitter-bit.
Ever go dipping at naked beach? The cops haul you off in a costume. Use gobs of sun shade? Trip over sand all summer? Dance the Bare-Foot Bootie?
Great, then hit me. If you must look, I’m the brown as a beetle-nut job. The oldie-goldie with rhythm below the spume off-shore body-surfing. What I mean is:
48 book-length rolled-up bottles of SONOMA KNIGHT: THE GOAT-RIPPER CASE in e-book format are FREE off e-AMAZON in mid-June. It’s a sexy romantic thriller set in the heart of wine country. (Tuns of research)
THE RULES:
1. Submit to PeterPrasad.SF@gmail.com on/after Memorial Day, May 27th.
2. Limited supply: first 50 e-books
3. Headline must say: FREE May 10th Baaah-Baaah Blog - EXPLATIVES DELETED.
4. Text must say: Winners unwind every great yarn.
5. All entries dated May 12th Mothers Day – automatic e-winners.
6. E-edition only. Delivered via Amazon e-gift mid-June. Why? Peter Prasad is in league with redwood trees. No quibbling allowed.
THANK YOU. As budding buns-of-steel newbie Sonoma private investigator and decorated Afghan-vet Jake Knight may say, ‘What can go wrong will go wrong, so have a nice day.’
The Librarian is giving me dirty looks. Folks are cued for this Net hook-up.
Gotta fly. Go Lightly. ON’YA!
April 11, 2013
Taxation, Representation & Me
Today's drool is dedicated to the poor sods sitting across from their CPA or tax prep clerk, wondering how the gov'mint can take so much of my money to spend on bullets and war. You may feel safer; I feel broke.
It got me to wondering if I can afford to die yet. Prolly not. I sense there's a huge unpaid invoice out there hunting for me. It's not fair to leave it for my kids; they cry enuf all ready. So I'll stick around, drunk on the promise of making a living polishing words.
Well, the library was closed, again, so I wrote a poem. I appologize in advance. This is not the witty, urbane draft I had in mind, but sum'pin got the better of me. Dang if I know. So here goes:
SET YOUR CABOOSE LOOSE
Enlightenment as Buddhists say,
The Big E, may be closer than you think.
What if we can have a taste every day?
Moments of serene calm, moments of bliss,
Moments of sharing in the joy of others,
Moments of divine connectedness.
So, Dad, how can you do that?
Before we begin on dying,
Which we began at birth,
We’re here on a two-way ticket.
We roared in and got off at the station
With our karmic suitcases in our hands.
Before we’re done, a high-ballin’ express
Comes to collect, so let’s train for that.
Cuz’ when that mind moment arrives
I'll take a last breath an’ make my leap of faith.
God help me find my GPS, charged an’ workin’
Splat beyond the most conscious moment in my life.
I promise, Ja-hesus, to be a good scout, no pout,
Be prepared the handbook say, so I rehearse an’
Befriend the caretaker sweeping dust
From the fast tracks of my past.
Okay, I'm sorry, again. So shouts out to my favorite Critical Bitch Bunch in Sonoma where we read each other slow with strong coffee and a sharp red pencil.
Huzzah you creatures of the craft! See that bum sittin' on the bench? It might be me. So help a drunk zen poet get a bagel...
Campaign Zen: 500bc - 2012.
It got me to wondering if I can afford to die yet. Prolly not. I sense there's a huge unpaid invoice out there hunting for me. It's not fair to leave it for my kids; they cry enuf all ready. So I'll stick around, drunk on the promise of making a living polishing words.
Well, the library was closed, again, so I wrote a poem. I appologize in advance. This is not the witty, urbane draft I had in mind, but sum'pin got the better of me. Dang if I know. So here goes:
SET YOUR CABOOSE LOOSE
Enlightenment as Buddhists say,
The Big E, may be closer than you think.
What if we can have a taste every day?
Moments of serene calm, moments of bliss,
Moments of sharing in the joy of others,
Moments of divine connectedness.
So, Dad, how can you do that?
Before we begin on dying,
Which we began at birth,
We’re here on a two-way ticket.
We roared in and got off at the station
With our karmic suitcases in our hands.
Before we’re done, a high-ballin’ express
Comes to collect, so let’s train for that.
Cuz’ when that mind moment arrives
I'll take a last breath an’ make my leap of faith.
God help me find my GPS, charged an’ workin’
Splat beyond the most conscious moment in my life.
I promise, Ja-hesus, to be a good scout, no pout,
Be prepared the handbook say, so I rehearse an’
Befriend the caretaker sweeping dust
From the fast tracks of my past.
Okay, I'm sorry, again. So shouts out to my favorite Critical Bitch Bunch in Sonoma where we read each other slow with strong coffee and a sharp red pencil.
Huzzah you creatures of the craft! See that bum sittin' on the bench? It might be me. So help a drunk zen poet get a bagel...
Campaign Zen: 500bc - 2012.
March 15, 2013
Celebrate for Me
The Ideas of March: Caesar lay bleeding out on the marble floor of the Senate and my life changed again.
It's Official: I finished a polished first draft of Sonoma Knight: The Goat-Ripper Case. 188 pages. Six weeks of Beta edit/polish next. I hope it goes well with your beach sand and suntan lotion.
My weekend get-away was to visit a water-buffalo dairy in Sonoma. Ever tasted real Mozzerella cheese? Craig makes the best. I drizzled 25-year-old vinegar on top.
A mixed herd of 30 swamp and river Asian buffalo have inspired me to do The 12 Water Buffalo of Sonoma Zen. Maybe a calendar, an itty-bitty book, and a new view on living.
Then I met a honeypot photographer with a 4X5. Meet Up! Houston, we have a shooter! Now how to get a water buffalo to smile?
Stay tuned. PeterPrasad.SF@Twitter.com
It's Official: I finished a polished first draft of Sonoma Knight: The Goat-Ripper Case. 188 pages. Six weeks of Beta edit/polish next. I hope it goes well with your beach sand and suntan lotion.
My weekend get-away was to visit a water-buffalo dairy in Sonoma. Ever tasted real Mozzerella cheese? Craig makes the best. I drizzled 25-year-old vinegar on top.
A mixed herd of 30 swamp and river Asian buffalo have inspired me to do The 12 Water Buffalo of Sonoma Zen. Maybe a calendar, an itty-bitty book, and a new view on living.
Then I met a honeypot photographer with a 4X5. Meet Up! Houston, we have a shooter! Now how to get a water buffalo to smile?
Stay tuned. PeterPrasad.SF@Twitter.com
Expletives Deleted
We like to write and read and muse awhile and smile. My pal Prasad comes to mutter too. Together we turn words into the arc of a rainbow. Insight Lite, you see?
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