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 |  I blog therefore I (r)am(ble). |
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Poems, Prose, and Promises. My name is
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Given to me by susanL  --- Created by kelly1202I write songs
I write poetry
I write short stories
I'm in love with susanL
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| One of my favorite computer games of all time is World of Warcraft (WoW). I haven't played it in nearly four months because I didn't think it was as much fun once I'd brought my character to the max level, 70, but before that, I spent many hours helping the Alliance defeat the Horde. Recently, I started playing WoW:The Card Game (TCG) with a friend at work on our lunch break. Very similar to Magic: The Gathering, WoW:TCG is played with collector cards. Each person chooses a hero card that has a predetermined amount of health. It also has a special power that can be used once per game. Usually, it's special power makes it invulnerable for a round or something similar. Once a player has chosen a hero, deck building can begin. In many ways, deck building is the most enjoyable aspect of the game. Now I will detail the basics of building a solid deck. Besides heroes, there are four basic types of cards with which to build a deck: Ability, Ally, Item, and Quest. A good deck will contain a combination of them all. Ability cards come in two variety, normal and instant, and can only be used by one of the nine classes (Druid, Hunter, Mage, Paladin, Priest, Rogue, Shaman, Warlock, and Warrior). The normal ability cards have to be used during the player's turn. The instant ones can be used at any time. Each one costs a fixed amount of resources and performs some kind of beneficial service. Some are offensive and some are defensive. Ally cards are the attack cards. Like ability cards, each one costs a certain amount of resources to put into play. Once in play, usually on the following turn it was laid down, it can attack other player's heroes and allies. It has a fixed amount of health and is removed from play when it takes that or greater damage. Item cards are magic items your hero can carry. Armor, weapons, wands, and rings are a few and each one contains class icons that show which class is allowed to use the item. Quest cards mirror actual quests inside the WoW game. Each one contains instructions on what is required to complete the quest and what the reward is. A quest can only be completed once, but once it's completed, the card can still be used as a resource. Resources are either quest cards, spent or unspent, and any other card from a player's deck that he sets face down on the play board. Each player can lay down one resource per turn. Every card in the deck, besides Hero and Quest cards, require a certain number of resources to place the card into play. The more powerful cards, of course, require more resources. To build a deck, a player must have chosen a hero card. The attributes of the hero (faction, class, race, alliances, professions, and such) determines which cards a player may use for his deck. The most important determining factor is the faction the hero belongs to. In WoW:TCG, there are only two: Alliance and Horde. Many of the cards are available to only one faction or the other. The second most important attribute when building a deck is class. Not all classes can use all items. For example, Warriors cannot use wands and Mages cannot use leather or mail armors. All items have class restrictions as do most abilities. Some of the abilities, however, have no restrictions at all and can be used by any class. With these rules in mind, a player looks through his collection of cards and makes a deck of at least 61 cards. One, and only one is a hero. The rest can be any mixture of Ability, Ally, Item, and Quest cards that the player desires as long as none of the cards are barred for his faction, class, etc. It's good to have a wide variety of cards. Some of the allies, for instance, cost six or more resources to put into play. That means it would take a player six or more turns to be able to use that card. The ones that require more resources do more damage, but it's good to have some low damage ones as well that can be deployed with less resources and thus sooner. Building a good deck takes experience. It's only through gaming that a player can see which kinds of cards work better for their playing style. Some like to concentrate on resources and abilities to try and slam their opponent in one or two blows. Others prefer to release a steady and increasingly powerful party of allies to wear their opponent down. Neither one is more inherently effective than the other. But both require a good understanding of the basics of deck building. |
| I'm trying to become a more prolific blogger. Last month, I blogged on twelve separate days. That's a record for me, but now I want more. I've tasted blood. So, this month, I'm going to try and post some kind of a blog every single day. Yep, that's right, Thirty Days of Blue. |
| I was reading through Nada 's blog and I'm impressed by how many photos she has from her life. I have no where near the amount she has. I have quite a few before 1998, but only a handful since. One of the reasons is my brother Jeff. My brother Jeff was born four years before me. He had some kind of fever that damaged his brain slightly and he became somewhat of a savant. On the one hand, he was never able to learn to drive a car and he had difficulty with anything requiring hand eye coordination, but on the other hand he had the most amazing memory I have ever seen. He could remember every episode of every show he liked, when it was first aired, who directed it, who guest starred, and any other trivia like information about it. His favorite shows were Cheers, Mash, Gilligan's Island, and Jay Leno. He also loved music. And his amazing memory helped him out there as well. He had around 75 to 100 individual cassette tapes in his collection and had filled each one by recording songs off of the radio. If you wanted to hear a particular song, he could tell you which tape it was on and what the counter number was. Another thing my brother loved was taking pictures. He didn't have any fancy equipment and he wasn't an expert with composition, but he made sure that we had photos of every event that took place in our family. It was something he loved to do and the rest of us let him. My brother Jeff, passed away on November 27, 1998. He had been diagnosed with epilepsy about five years earlier and they were trying to get the right mix of medications for him. But, the day after Thanksgiving day, he had a gran maul seizure in an enclosed place and suffocated. He was 36. Jeff was a great brother and a wonderful friend. I miss him a lot. I miss his warmth. I miss his kindness. And I miss his photos. Even though it's been almost ten years, I'm still not in the habit of taking pictures. I do so more now than ever, especially since I have a camera on my cell phone, but family photos was always Jeff's job. He loved it, handled it faithfully, and always made sure everyone in the family received copies. So reading through Nada's blog, even though I love her writing and am impressed by what an incredible life she's lead, made me just a little sad. I miss Jeff. I can't wait to see him again. I can't wait to show him what I've done since he's left us. And in the mean time, I'm trying to get better at taking pictures. |
| It's sad that Bush, Rove, Cheney and company have conditioned so many Americans to expect such horrible results out of the greatest nation on the planet. But that's what they've done with their cronyism, fear tactics, and downright mismangement of our country's vast resources. This makes it hard for people to see that we can do better. We don't have to pay so much of of our gas money to speculators simply because Enron has found a new, more subtle way to separate Americans from their money. We don't have to put up with such a disparaging chasm between those who have health care and those who don't. We don't have to watch our young men being killed, fighting a war that the majority of Americans don't want while we ignore our responsibility to bring justice to those who truly are our enemies because we don't have enough available resources. We deserve better than that. We have the capability as a nation to rise above this horrible enconomic condition and sullied world reputation. We deserve better. So it isn't blind idealism to recognize the difference between a one-line spewing incompetent fool like George W. Bush and an inspirational motivator like Barack Obama. People can do amazing things if they believe, but to believe they need someone to believe in them. We've been told for eight years that we need to be policed more, that we need to be regulated more, that we need to give up more and more of our freedoms so that George and Cheney can protect us from the bad guys while filling the coffers of the oil industry and halliburton and anyone connected to the two. Obama recognized that we deserve better and that by being creative, proactive, and by believing in our ability to rise above this horrible situation, we can, as a nation, do some amazing things. John McCain offers pretty much what George W. Bush offers. His idea for freeing us from foreign oil is to dig more holes in the ground and risk more and more of our pristine wetlands. I'm sure that McCain's heart is in the right place. I'm sure he really sees that as our best chance for getting out from under that burden. That's one of the main reasons we need someone else. We need someone with vision and creativity. We need a leader. We need Barack Obama. |
| I wasn't sure what to expect from Obama's acceptance speech. I missed the keynote address he gave at the last democratic convention. For me, the election four years ago was a choice between a proven bungler and an unproven one. My interest in the election couldn't have been lower and so I missed from what I understand was a discourse for the history books. I know, I could probably find it on youtube but I do have a life to live too. So I've been excited about watching and hearing this fascinating man speak. I was not disappointed in the least. His enthusiasm, his poise, his diction, his message, and his understanding of what is wrong with where George W. Bush has lead America had my attention from the opening thank you to the closing one. His explanation of why John McCain is the wrong choice for our nation at this time was spot on. This isn't based on patriotism, dedication, willingness to serve, or any other aspect of character. John McCain isn't right for this country because he doesn't have a clue what 85% of the country goes through. It was the same with George W. Bush. Coming from the privileged life that they came from, they simply cannot understand the challenges facing lower and middle class Americans. Obama: And next week, we'll also hear about those occasions when he's broken with his party as evidence that he can deliver the change that we need. But the record's clear: John McCain has voted with George Bush 90 percent of the time. Senator McCain likes to talk about judgment, but, really, what does it say about your judgment when you think George Bush has been right more than 90 percent of the time? This isn't about character. Or rather, this isn't about John McCain lacking it. This is about McCain's not having walked in enough shoes of the people he wants to lead. This is about him not knowing where the majority of America are. He wants to lead but he doesn't know where we are so how can he get us where we need to go? Barack Obama demonstrated time and time again in his speech last night that he knows where we are. Obama: We meet at one of those defining moments, a moment when our nation is at war, our economy is in turmoil, and the American promise has been threatened once more. Tonight, more Americans are out of work and more are working harder for less. More of you have lost your homes and even more are watching your home values plummet. More of you have cars you can't afford to drive, credit cards, bills you can't afford to pay, and tuition that's beyond your reach. These challenges are not all of government's making. But the failure to respond is a direct result of a broken politics in Washington and the failed policies of George W. Bush. John McCain has solutions. Ninety percent, according to McCain's voting record, echo the solutions that George W. Bush has been sputtering since he ooopsed into office eight years ago. John McCain believes we need to keep the war in Iraq burning indefinitely. Even while the war on those who actually attacked us, the war on Osama Bin Laden and his Al Quaida network has been relegated to the back burner. John McCain promises change by using polices that haven't. Policies that haven't changed and policies that haven't worked. In stark contrast, Barack Obama espouses policies far away from those of George W. Bush. He proposes giving the tax incentives to those who are actually needing them rather than allowing companies that don't to constantly fit into giant loopholes, conveniently left open. He proposes to develop a plan to end our reliance on foreign oil in ten years. Reminds me of a similar ten-year goal made almost fifty years ago by a young, charismatic presidential contender named John F. Kennedy. He proposed to land a man on the moon in ten years and set a challenge for all of America to figure out how to get it done. Once we had the goal and the determination to meet that goal, America came through and made that dream a reality. With a man like Barack Obama at the helm, we can do the same with our dependence on foreign oil. Barack isn't better for America because he's a better man. He's better for America because he's got a better plan. He's got a better plan because he knows where we are and where we're headed. He knows where we want to go and be believes in us. He believes in America, in our spirit and tenacity, in our ability to rise up to any challenge. He believes in us and he knows how to get things done. |
| About Last Night susanL and I attended a poetry class last night at Crossings at Carnegie http://www.crossingsatcarnegie.com. The title of the class was Visually Literal ... Literally Visual! and it was taught by Linda Back McKay http://www.loft.org/index.cfm?fuseaction=feature.display&feature_id=96. She's a regular instructor at another wonderful writing resource we Minnesotan's have called The Loft Literary Center http://www.loft.org/index.cfm?CFID=4035019&CFTOKEN=30197916.Invisible Gifts Mrs. Mckay (Linda from here on) did a fantastic job. She opened up the class by having all 8 of us in attendance stand in a circle. Then, she instructed the lady to her left to pretend to hand her a gift and say, "I have a gift for you Linda." Linda accepted the gift, pretended to open it and responded, "Oh look, it's a ___________. I've always wanted a __________ because _________________________________." We then took turns doing the same. Susan stood on the other side of Linda, so she was the first one put on the spot. She opened her imaginary gift and said, "Oh look, a writing tablet. I always wanted a writing tablet so I can keep a list of all my wishes." It was so cute.  Terry followed Susan and found something profound like a rainbow or something in her box. She obviously had been thinking while I was merely watching. I was next. Being the natural ham that I am (but try so hard not to be  ) when Terry handed the box to me, I pretended like it was really heavy and said, 'Holy cows, what did you put in here?" In a good-natured but firm tone, Linda asked me to please stick to the script. I did -- sort of.  I accepted the invisible present and opened it up, but then I drew a blank. Probably just karma reminding me that I shouldn't try to hog the limelight. So I stood there, staring into an invisible box that really was getting heavier and heavier and heavier. Finally, it hit me. Why don't I use this momentary blockage to my advantage?"Oh look, it's a case of Writer's Block(R)," I said. "I always wanted a case of Writer's Block(R) because then when I find my self talking too much, I can just open up an ice-cold can and forget what I wanted to say." Interestingly enough, Writer's Block(R) has the exact opposite effect of beer which makes you say things you later wish you could forget. Watching us, the last four had plenty of time to prepare their unprepared answers and asked for butterflies, snow, the wind, and world peace. Show offs! Still, it was an enjoyable exercise and it really got our creative juices flowing. Warming Up Linda Mckay wasn't just all flash though. She also brought along four wonderful writing assignments. The first, offered as just a warm-up, gave us fifteen minutes to put our pens to paper. We were not to stop writing until the fifteen minutes was up. Afterward, all of us read a portion of what we created and some of the snippets (I just LOVE that word) were rather clever. A Magazine Assignment For the next assignment, she passed around a box of magazine cut-outs. Each one had a picture of some sort on each side and we were to use the one we drew as inspiration for a poem. She even allowed us one re-draw if we didn't like the one we chose first. I ended up with a night-time picture of desert sand dunes. It was done in shades of green and gave off an immediate feeling of desolation. I wrote two poems based on it. The first, a cinquain, made a connection between that desolate setting and a major problem affecting Americans today. The second, a haiku, simply described the peacefulness of the scene. Writing What We See To fully appreciate the third writing assignment, you need a mental picture of the environment where we took our class. Crossings in Zumbrota, Minnesota is a combination art gallery, gift shop, and cultural center. Hundreds of paintings and drawings from both local and renowned artists cover the walls. Showcase upon showcase encircle the room with everything from pottery and sculpture to hand-carved, decorative boxes and refrigerator magnets. Giant fairy catchers and mobiles hang from the ceiling which also houses one of the best collections of artistic kites in the state. Seated in this environment, Linda charged us with finding something that caught our eye. I chose a mobile made of gnarled, blackened sticks that had a small egg-shaped piece of clay hanging down from its outer edge. Balanced perfectly, with sticks poking out in all directions, it looked a lot like the visible hand of an invisible witch. I wasn't too thrilled with the poem I wrote but I loved the title: An Egg on a Hook on a Stick in the Air. Susan wrote a poem about a giant, blue kite. The inspiration for her poem can be seen in the photo on the top of this page http://www.crossingsatcarnegie.com/page0008.html. Round Robin Writing Tearing a blank page out of her journal, Linda introduced us to the final assignment for the evening. She instructed us to tear out a blank page as well. At the top of the page, she had us write one line of a poem. It could be anything at all. Once we finished, we passed our page to the right and that person added a second line, folded the page so only their line was visible, and passed it on once again. We continued writing, folding, and passing our papers until they made their way back to us. Then, we added a final line and read the results to the group. Each one was definitely unique. All had splashes of humor, splotches of absurdity, and moments of brilliance. It was a wonderful way to end a wonderful night. Visual Appeal Poetry classes are unique. You don't spend time memorizing dates or analyzing equations. You don't listen to boring lectures about information you probably wouldn't be interested in even if you knew the people involved. Instead you get a chance to test your poetic and creative wings and see where they take you. With an excellent instructor like Linda Back McKay, you also get wonderful feedback on how you can make your poetry more visually appealing and more appealingly visual. I highly recommend both this class and this instructor. |
| I belong to a local writer's group called Writer's Ink. It's been organized for about five years now and I've been attending for the past three. We meet once a month to share news, tips, encouragment, and more. Last night we concentrated on the more. At our meeting two months ago, we all agreed to write something that contained the line, There aren't many dragons in China anymore. Last night, everyone threw their story, poem, or whatever into the dragon bag and Penny, the group's leader and Kit, the member who thought up the prompt, read them for the group. Then the fun began. Ballots were handed out. Everybody, including Penny and Kit, had to try and guess who wrote what. We've all seen each other's work before. We're all familiar with each other's style. But identifying all ten was not an easy task. Three prizes were handed out. The first, determined by secret ballot, went to the owner of the best piece of writing. The second, went to whomever managed to match up the most writers with their writings. And the third, went to the writer who's piece received the fewest correct guesses. Penny took home the award for best writing with a Raymond Chandler'esque yarn about a triple spy and a Szechuan dragon. Yours Truly matched up the most writers with their work, and Beth, who wrote a darling children's poem with almost perfect symmetry, took home a prize for stumping everyone. Here was my offering: There Aren't Many Dragons In China Anymore There aren't many dragons in China anymore. There aren't any wagons in front of Dierck's store. You can't always count on the past to show the way You just have to trust in today. Chorus Time, it keeps a rollin' like a marble on a slide, like a mother's love, cajolin' like the ocean and its tide. You can try to stop it but don't be surprised when time keeps on rollin' in stride. There aren't many reasons to look back to the past. There aren't any seasons where time doesn't move fast. You can't simply wish away clocks and calendars. You just have to trust in your worth. Chorus Time, it keeps a rollin' like a marble on a slide, like a mother's love, cajolin' like the ocean and its tide. You can try to stop it but don't be surprised when time keeps on rollin' in stride. |
| How Much is Too Much? I usually have a large number of projects going at any one time. Now is no exception. The only downside with having a lot going on at the same time is that sometimes, individual ventures suffer from a lack of attention. That has happened to me on more than one occasion. So, I'm very happy to announce that three of my most beloved writing endeavors are progressing nicely. SEMP Chapbook As president of the Southeastern Minnesota Poets, a local chapter of the League Of Minnesota Poets (LOMP), I decided that one of the things I wanted to accomplish during my one-year term was to publish a chapbook for the group. At this moment, I have all but eleven of the poems for the project entered into a word document and have completed almost all of the formatting. Once I finish entering the poems, by hand in this case, I will just need to decide on a final order. At this point, I'm going to put all the poems in alphabetical order by title, but I still may decide to divide poems into categories. I'll make that final decision once they are all entered. Either way, the hardest part of the job will be finished. A photographer friend of mine has agreed to create our cover for just expenses. He'll be getting a credit inside the book, a little bit of publicity at our annual fall convention, and a good dose of positive karma. His name is Kevin Horsman and he's fantastic with a camera. I'll be talking a bit more about him later. After I have the cover, I just need to upload the final documents to our LULU account and order a proof copy. Hopefully, there won't be many, if any changes to make and we'll have copies available for our fall convention in October. Romantic Leanings I have also made a lot of progress on my own personal chapbook, Romantic Leanings. I have the front cover finished. I have all the poems entered into a word document. I've decided on how I'm going to organize the poems. I just need to create the copyright, dedication, TOC, and about the author pages, select a poem or blurb for the back cover, and upload the whole mess to LULU. Here's a preview of the front cover. It was created by Kevin Horsman. I did a modeling job for him for a local band's new CD cover and in exchange he designed, photographed, and edited the following: ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Surprise Endings I've made A LOT of progress on my short story collection, Surprise Endings as well. I have the front cover finished. I have the back cover almost finished -- I just need to add the blurb that susanL created for me. I have settled on the final content and order of the stories as well as the final categories. Again, susanL has been extremely helpful with all these necessary organizational tasks.The book's going to consist of 23 stories in five categories. Plus, per susanL 's suggestion, I'm going to place a copy of "Invalid Item"  in the beginning. All but nine of the 24 pieces have received their final edit. I am definitely seeing the end of this project on the horizon.Hard Work All three of these projects have been a lot of work, but they've all been a lot of fun too. The most enjoyable aspect is watching what was once just an idea come together into something tangible. Sure, I don't have hard copies of any of these three yet, but with what I have completed already and my previous experience with LULU, I'm feeling very confident. |
| If anyone would have told me on May 31, 2008 that I'd be living with four women by the middle of August, I would have prayed for this poor soul to be able to afford the Aricept they obviously needed to stave off the onset of Alzheimer's. But here it is, August 19, 2008 and I live in a household with four females. Five if we're counting cats. And unless we're counting dogs too, I'm the only man. The question that must be going through everyone's mind is whether I'm especially cursed or especially blessed. I'll get to that in a moment. First though, I think some introductions are in order. The Alpha female of this pack of ladies is susanL . She also happens to be the mother of the other three. She's an awesome cook, a magnificent mother, a supportive partner, and an amazing interior decorator. I'm sure the Woman's Union is very proud to have her on their team.The other three, in order of age are Liz, Rachel, and Sarah. Liz likes her time alone and can get a little lippy, but she's also very creative, loves to write, and has a strong sense of self. Being bi-polar, she's going to need to rely on external support to enjoy her life to the fullest, but from what I've seen, I'm confident that with the right therapist and the right combination of drugs, she's going to do some amazing things. Rachel's a computer geek, a Scrubs, Monk, and Psych junkie, and a writer. She's also an excellent driver. She's not afraid to take on any do-it-yourself furniture project or speak up if she has a better idea about how something should be arranged. Plus, as if that wasn't enough, she HATES onions. It's almost as though she were my own daughter. Finally, there's Sarah. She's lovingly known as "the diva" by her family. And she plays the part expertly. She loves attention but she also loves to help out in the kitchen, to help out with the laundry, and to organize. She organizes everything. The kitchen, the bathrooms, the hall closet. She's even helping out her mother with the decorating, finding yellow, rubber duckies at the dollar store that match the shower curtain. So, returning to the question above, do I consider myself especially blessed or especially cursed to live with four women? Without a single doubt in my mind, I am definitely, especially BLESSED to have Susan, Liz, Rachel, and Sarah in my life. |
My soul-mate susanL  created a new blog entry about all of the writing we've been doing and I had to create one as well. So, I decided to name my entry the same as she named hers -- ProducingWhat an apropos title for a blog about the amount of writing we've managed to get done together. We both enjoy the other's work and our writing styles compliment each other, so it only makes sense that we should be able to pour out volumes and volumes of writing when we're working as a team. It all started with a writing challenge that we didn't quite finish. On June 7, I gave susanL a book of writing prompts called Now Write! Compiled by Sherry Ellis, it contains a wonderful collection of writing ideas from such writers as Amy Bloom, Steve Almond, Jill McCorkle, Robert Olen Butler, and more.Since we both love writing, we decided to choose a prompt from the book and see what each of us could come up with. With the long-distance relationship and all the interesting obstacles we overcame to see each other nearly every weekend, we never got around to completing that assignment, but our desire to encourage each other to more and greater writing didn't die. The Saturday that Susan found herself stranded on the side of the road outside of Williams, Iowa, we ended up spending a laptop-less weekend together in the Boondocks. Since we didn't have our laptops, we drove into Ames, Iowa and purchased a writing notebook and pen for each of us. Then, back at the motel, we challenged each other to a writing exercise. We had to write a story about what it would be like to run into our polar opposite. Physically, the person would be our twin but ideologically or morally, they couldn't be more different. Afterward, we read each other our stories. It was a lot of fun. As an aside, we still haven't posted these stories. We need to do that. Since that was so much fun, when Deelyte- Chillin' posted in her blog that mood indigo was looking for more contestants for the fifth round of her very popular "Follow the Leader" contest, I emailed Susan that I thought we should do it. We did and we had a blast. We're still waiting to see if either of us has won. Meanwhile, while we're waiting, mood indigo has a new contest: "Invalid Item" . In this contest there are only five contestants. Each contestant creates a prompt and everyone has to write a story based on each other's prompts in a fixed period of time. So far, we've just finished up the second one.If you're so inclined, here are my two entries:
The bottom line is that I find myself more excited to write when I have a partner who wants to take part in the same contests and activities that I enjoy. I feel totally blessed that we are able to feed each other's creativity and motivate each other to bigger and better writing goals. |
| When I woke up Saturday morning, I knew I had a busy day ahead of me. First there was Catherine Friend's book signing at one. She released her latest book, The Compassionate Carnivore in March. Then, Susan and I had to each finish a short story for the "Invalid Item" contest. Meanwhile, we were waiting for Susan's best friend, Mandy to arrive from Iowa. She was driving up from the Des Moines area to watch me do my comedy routine. The show was slated for seven at the Art Center in Spring Valley. We arrived in town on time, but absent-minded me left the address and driving directions to the place at home. I remembered that Debi Neville, the director of the Art Center and organizer of the comedy event had said the center was located on the main drag, but I had no idea where the main drag was. Luckily, Spring Valley isn't too large, population 2518, and we found the main drag with ease. We had a little more trouble finding the Art Center but learned a valuable lesson: If you can't find a business that you know is on the street you're parked on, enter the building you're parked in front of. Finally having located the Art Center, we stepped inside. The other comics, Shannon Kelly and Nathan Hall, had already arrived. Debi and her husband were there as well. I introduced Susan and Mandy and then set up my video camera. I wanted to get all of the evidence of the night's debauchery on film. Just as I was finishing up, my mom walked through the door. This was to be her first time witnessing my act. Debi opened up the night, giving a brief description of the Art Center's history and then called me on stage. I had about ten minutes of clean material prepared, but some of it was new and I was a little nervous about how well it would be received. I opened up with my new pharmacy bit and then went into my ventriloquism one. Both went over well and I was stoked. Especially with my mom being in the audience. My ventriloquism bit ends with a surprise reference to her and I wasn't sure how she'd respond. She took it very well and probably clapped harder than anyone else. My ventriloquism bit sequed nicely into my dating spiel, arguably my funniest jokes, and after that, I held up a gift my mom had received for Christmas. It's called The Clapper Plus. How could anything as successful and useful as The Clapper be improved upon? Well, according to the box, The Clapper Plus not only responds to clapping sounds, but comes with a fully functional remote control. The CLAPPER *claps hands* with a remote control. Let me repeat. The CLAPPER *claps hands slowly* with a remote control. That got my biggest laugh of the evening. Nathan Hall followed me. He's a regular at Goonies Comedy Club and a natural for stand-up. Shannon Kelly followed him. She's also a regular at Goonies as well as a student of The Second City in Chicago. Both of them did fantastic jobs. It was so cool to see that they get better every time I watch them. I'm truly honored to have such funny and talented friends. After the stand-up, Debi directed all who cared to participate in a round of improvisation. She had some pre-prepared situations and the results were hilarious. I pretended to be Debi's husband, teaching her how to drive a car. Shannon tried to sell a pair of shoes to one of the members of the audience. And for the improvisational piesta resistance, Nathan and his girlfriend acted out a phone order misunderstanding that left everyone busting a gut. There was more to the evening. We had ice cream sundaes, more improvisation, a few naughty jokes, and I got to read my "Invalid Item" poem from the stage. Then, Debi thanked everyone for coming and it was over. I have to admit that I was more than a little nervous about doing my routine in front of this new audience. Not only are they older then the crowds that usually hang out at Goonies on open mic night, but they were also sober. So, I had to depend completely on my sense of humor to get laughs. But, once the night had come to a close, and I scanned the vibrant, smiling faces on those in attendance, I realized what a wonderful experience this was. To top it all off, this was the first time that Susan had ever seen my act, and she loved it. |
| The Maven based on The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe Once upon a season dreary, while I pondered, bored and weary, Over many a quaint and curious webpage of pro football lore, While I websurfed, nearly sleeping, suddenly there came a beeping As of someone dumbly sweeping, sweeping Brett Favre out the door. " 'Tis just a rumor," I muttered, "keeping Brett Favre out the door. Only this, and nothing more." Ah, distinctly I remember, in the month before September, And each rumor like a flaming ember wrought this nonsense to the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; when the sports news I could scour From ESPN to Sportsline, sports lines of Brett Favre's holy war. For the rare and accurate QB whom with Green Bay has waged a war. Packerless forevermore? And the nervous sad uncertain wishing of each purple fanboy Thrilled me---filled me with fantastic wonders never felt before; So that now, to ease this striking thought that Brett could one day be a Viking, " 'Tis just a rumor suggesting Brett Favre's out the door, Some silly rumor suggesting Brett Favre's out the door. This it is, and nothing more." Presently my soul grew stronger, hesitating then no longer, "To whom it may concern," typed I, "your clarification I implore; For the fact is, I was sleeping, and so this talk of Green Bay sweeping Brett Favre instead of keeping, sweeping him right out the door... I scarce am sure I didn't hear you, say that he is out the door; Not a Packer, nevermore? Deep into this nonsense peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing Doubting, Brett Favre, not just a mortal, could be shoved right out the door; But then the silence had been broken. What has Ted Thompson been smoking? Is it true what Green Bay's spoken, that Brett Favre is gone for good? Asinine! This I hollared, and all the pundits understood. Brett Favre, not a Packer anymore? Back into the sports page turning, all my soul within me burning, Even more rumors were creeping, creeping louder than before, "Surely," said I, "surely, there is nothing to this nonsense. Let me see, then, what the truth is, and this mystery explore. Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore. "Tis a rumor, and nothing more?" Open then, I clicked a webpage, and with something kin to pure rage, Read that Brett Favre was indeed leaving behind his Packer lore. In a set of large block letters, I learned that Favre was now a Jetter, Not a Buc, or Bear or Viking, just a Jet and nothing more. How could Brett accept this offer, just a Jet and nothing more? Brett a Jet, forevermore? And this rumor, never fitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the front page of the sports news way too large to just ignore. And the thought that's deeply sinking to my brain, What were they thinking? Letting Brett Favre get away for just a draft pick, just a four? Betting this entire season the untried Rogers kid can score? A Green Bay superbowl? Not in store! |
| This Saturday night, from 7:00pm until 11:00pm, I've agreed to be part of a comedy show in Spring Valley, Minnesota. The lady who runs the local art center, Debi Neville, belongs to two of my writing groups and wanted to see what kind of response we'd get. She tossed the idea to me about two months or so ago and I told her that I knew of some comics who would probably enjoy having a new venue for their comedy. So far, four of us have signed on. Shannon Kelly, Nate Dogg, Dan Elvebak and myself. But, according to Shannon, our friend Kollin Holtz wants to take part too. He's the funniest of the group so I hope he can make it. Debi has divided the evening into two shows. The first one, from seven until nine, has to be clean humor. No swear words and nothing overtly sexual or offensive. The second show, dubbed Nine to Naughty, starts at 9:30 and for it, anything goes. We're supposed to get around ten minutes for each show. Hopefully I can come up with enough material. I have enough clean stuff, I think, but I'm not sure if I have ten minutes of raunchy bits. Luckily, I do have a dirty mind, so I might be alright here. So anyone who happens to be in southern Minnesota on August 9, 2008 at around 7:00 in the evening, stop on by the art center in lovely Spring Valley. And if you have the stomach, stay for the nine-thirty naughtiness. Mmmm, it should be a lot of fun. |
| I survived one California earthquake. The Northridge one of '94. All things considered, the earthquake was simply the exclamation point at the end of a run-on year -- 1993. I was living in San Clemente at the time, in a gorgeous condo off of Vista del Ponto. It wasn't adjacent to the water, but it was high enough up so that I had an unobstructed view of the ocean, San Clemente Island, and the lovely Catalina Island. Unfortunately, it wasn't my condo. I merely rented a room from the lady who owned it and her own manicuring business. I did have full house privileges, though and it was quite a place. She had the first big screen TV I'd ever seen. It was huge. One of those back projected models that were difficult to see if you weren't looking straight on. I hadn't been living in such opulence for long though. I started 1993 living in a halfway house for alcoholics and drug addicts. I didn't have a problem with those things, but due to poor money management, I found myself homeless and Glenhaven, the name of the shelter located in San Clemente, CA, offered to give me a place to stay while I got back on my feet. One of the requirements for living there was mandatory attendance at some kind of twelve step program. Narcotics Anonymous, Cocaine Anonymous, Alcoholics Anonymous. One of them. I chose Alcoholics Anonymous since the meeting house was close by and most of the other people at the shelter attended there. I attended the meetings and when they asked me to tell my story, I started out by saying, "I'm not an alcoholic." The entire room nodded their heads in pity. It didn't take me long to learn that there are only two types of people at AA meetings. Those who are alcoholics and those who are in denial. Oh well, at least I had a roof over my head. Another one of the requirements for staying at Glenhaven was the need to find employment. The first month at the shelter was free, but after that, you had to make at least some effort to show you were trying to better yourself. They were only offering a leg up, not a handout. So, I found a job at taco bell making too little for too few hours a week. I took the job, though, so I'd have at least a little coming in and I kept looking. After about two weeks, I got a call from the local 7-Eleven. The franchise owner liked my application and offered me a full time position. I accepted immediately, thrilled with the prospect of not having to go to bed smelling like taco meat. Within two months, I was offered the assistant manager's position. Shortly after that, I noticed an ad for a room for rent over on Vista del Ponto. Ooooh, the ritzy part of San Clemente. I had recently paid in full the money I'd owed the shelter, so I answered the ad and the lady offered me the room. It wasn't long after I moved in, that the lady noticed I was on my computer a lot. She mentioned that one of her clients owned a training company and was looking for a data-entry clerk. She said she could get me an interview if I wanted her to. I jumped at the chance. They were going to interview me on Halloween, 1993, but just a few days earlier, huge brush fires, fueled by the Santa Ana winds, spread across southern California. One of the fires, the Trabuco Canyon one I believe, had blocked all but local traffic to Ortega Highway, the location where my interview was to take place. Depressed that I had blown a wonderful opportunity, I called up the lady who was going to interview me and told her I just couldn't make it. I was thrilled to hear the understanding in her voice as she told me not to worry, they wouldn't hire anyone before giving me a chance at an interview. The fires lasted for most of November and I didn't get my interview until almost Thanksgiving. But, it was in time. On December 17, 1993, I started my first job in the computer industry. Playing in the background during all this drama, the OJ Simpson trial was in full force. It was impossible to turn on the news back then and not hear something about the brush fires or OJ. I became so sick of both of those blasts of hot air. One month exactly from the day I started working at National Training Systems in San Juan Capistrano, on January 17, 1994, the Northridge earthquake hit. Around 4:30 in the morning, this magnitude 6.7 tremor woke up thousands of miles of Southern California residents. From unemployed and homeless, through taco bell, 7-Eleven, and management, I meandered through the cacophony of the OJ Simpson trial, made it into and out of a homeless shelter, managed to avoid harm during the the deadliest brush fires that California had seen up to that time, only to find myself, knocked out of bed, at 4:30 in the morning by a 6.7 magnitude earthquake. Yep, it sure was the exclamation point to the year, 1993. |
| I made a recent trip to the boondocks. Boondocks, Iowa. Off INT 35, just north of HWY 20. I wasn't planning it. I didn't even know it existed. Better to say I didn't even REMEMBER it existed. I had been there once before. My father used to take us boys on vacation every year and in 1981 we took INT 35 all the way to Kansas City, MO. I don't remember if it was on the way down or on the way back, but we stopped at Boondocks for gas and refreshments. My reason for going this time was to help out someone very special to me. She was driving up to see me on July 12 when her SUV started losing power. She pulled off the highway when she smelled smoke. Somewhere around 11:30 that morning, she called to tell me that her SUV had acted up and she was going to wait for it to cool down before continuing. Her cell phone was dying so she couldn't talk long, but something about the plan didn't sit right with me. I paced around my bedroom, trying to put a label to what I was feeling. It didn't work. I just knew that something wasn't right. If she smelled smoke, she shouldn't drive without getting it looked at first. So, I sent her a text message, "Don't start the car again. I'm on my way." The last thing she'd told me about where she'd gotten off was that it was close to Williams, Iowa. She also mentioned something about highway 20, but I couldn't remember exactly what she'd said. I distinctly remember her saying it was a gravel road though. I decided to figure it out once I got to Williams. I loaded up Yahoo and mapped the route. It was about 147 miles. Should I bring my laptop? Nah. I won't need it. I hit the road about a quarter to noon. The map said it would take just over two hours, so I figured I'd arrive around two. It was almost that when I made it to the Williams exit, which I found out was also the Boondocks exit. I exited the highway but I didn't see any sign of a gravel road. So, I headed towards Williams, hoping that I was going in the right direction. I came to a Y. The left leg headed toward Williams. The right made a black line through an expanse of cornfields. Highway 20 was off to the right too, somewhere. I couldn't see it from where I sat, but according to the map, I wasn't more than four or five miles away. Hoping and praying, I drove off to the right. About a mile or so ahead, I came to a gravel road. Could this be the one? I turned right again. After another mile or so, I came to an intersection. Straight ahead was a dead end. Another gravel road jetted out to the left. I turned left and passed a construction crew raising an enormous, metal shed. Then, as I was passing the construction site, I saw a red vehicle in the distance. I couldn't make out what kind it was, but it did appear to be on the side of the road. I squinted and continued on. As I approached, the motionless, red vehicle looked more and more familiar. It was Susan's SUV alright. She saw me drive up and bolted out of her car. I parked and did the same. We melted together. OK. So the morning hadn't started out very good. We still had the rest of the day. Not to mention Sunday. I was determined not to let this little mishap ruin our whole weekend. I had her open up the hood and I checked the fluids. Oil looked good. Antifreeze looked good. Whatever was wrong, I didn't feel that the engine's integrity had been compromised. That was when I noticed the hole. In a vacuum housing that lead off of the distributor. I had her start the engine up, and sure enough. The engine had almost no vacuum. I knew we were only a couple miles from Williams and since the fluid levels were good, I decided it was safe for her to follow me into town. It took awhile, but we finally found a mechanic that was open on weekends. Right at the Boondocks station actually. So we left the car with him and got a motel for us. It was going to cost a bit, but Jason, the mechanic assured us he could fix it once he got the part. After all the excitement, we decided to just take it easy and enjoy each other's company. Neither one of us had brought our laptops so we took found other ways to amuse ourselves. We took a trip into Ames, had a great time at Borders Books, bought some writing pads and pencils at Walmart, and then came back to the motel. It was an amazing weekend that could have been a disaster. But we were NOT going to let a little thing like being stranded in the Boondocks get us down. |
| s t r e a m o f c o n s c i o u s n e s s p a r t t r o i s run for your lives...the bull runs...the sun also rises...hemingway...i want to write like him...his writer's group...paris...jason bourne...the jackal...espionage...international travel...no rules...no worries...edrenaline rush...adventure... run for your lives...giant spiders...running through forests...heavy rain falling...falling into a pit...stuck...how long would i last?...indiana jones always found a way out...maybe i'm no indiana jones...what fictional character am i most like?...biff?...death of a salesman?...i hope not...seinfeld...george constanza...can't stands ya...can't stands ya...atomic wedgie...the library police...comic genius...scrubs...comic genius... run for your lives...it's an order...run for your lives...entertain me or i'll kill you...could i really kill?...i don't think so...conscientious objector...army...navy...air force...marines...annoying commercials...quiznos...subway...chicken breast...kfc...ames iowa...family meal... |
| "What taxes on The Rude would you like to levy?" asked Paige Turner Oh yes. I have a few. JERRY SPRINGER TAX - those who insist on performing their mama drama in public but don't have the decency to get booked on daytime TV first. MY NAME IS SALMONELLA, SALMONELLA I AM TAX - parents who don't teach their kids to wash their hands after using the toilet. And please, don't mail a check, just pay your tax online. HOW'D THESE PAINT SHAVINGS GET ON THE TIP OF MY KEY TAX - motorists who must take up two parking spaces so that their BMW, AUDI, Lexus, Mercedes, or other precious widdle car doesn't get bumped. If you really want to protect your car, trade in the asshole driving it for one with some manners. I'M SORRY I MISSED YOUR FUNERAL, I WAS STILL DOING TIME FOR KILLING YOU TAX - anyone who walks slower than they normally do in crosswalks, in front of walmart, or anywhere else that cars have to wait for their impromptu drama queen butts. I might not be allowed to run you down, but a seventy-five dollar fine seems like a bargain to watch you crap your pants. |
| On September 29, 2006, I started developing a short story for a writing group I belonged to. I had just recently joined the group and this was to be my first assignment. The only requirement we were given was that our piece must contain the phrase "I have a dream" somewhere in the text. "I have a dream." What kind of story could I come up with that particular prompt? Would it have to be about Martin Luther King Jr? Pondering the possibilities, I decided two things. One, I didn't want this to be about Dr. King himself. And two, I wanted to write from the POV of a child. Now, don't get me wrong, Martin Luther King Jr. has long been one of my heroes. Anyone who risks their own life and livelihood to help out those who have little or nothing to give in return has my complete respect. So it wasn't any intended slight on my part to not have my story center around the renowned activist. I simply wanted it to center around people who weren't normally written about. People who weren't famous. So, I opened up my journal and started writing. I was amazed at how fast the story poured out of me. It must have been patiently waiting to get out for some time. But like any written work, it did need polishing up. Originally, I intended for it to have an unhappy ending. I felt it would be more believable if the protagonist were to find himself way over his head and never fully recover. As I was writing, however, the story itself turned in an unexpected direction. The boy, listening to Martin Luther King Jr. live for perhaps the first time in his life, just wasn't ready to be defeated. And, apparently, he must have had someone looking out for him, because before I knew it, my intended ending had been trashed and replaced by one that even made me well up in tears. I'm happy to say, that my story was chosen as the winner for that assignment. I didn't get anything tangible for winning, but I did receive a great boost to my self-confidence. Enough of a boost so that when Helen Chen announced her Chi Shu writing contest, named in honor of her late mother, I knew exactly which story I wanted to enter. I read, re-read, and re-read again the rules for entry and made sure I had formatted my submission just so. As I dropped it off at the post office, I had a warm feeling that my story definitely had a chance of winning. And the prize for this contest wasn't just a boost in self-confidence. First place was one hundred dollars. Second place was seventy-five, and third place was fifty. The winners of the first annual Chi Shu writing contest were announced in the second week of February, 2007. The award ceremony took place on March 13. The winners were given the opportunity to say a few words about their writing and then the judges read each winning story for the audience. My simple story, "Invalid Item" , took third. |
| Many songs speak to me beyond mere musical enjoyment. The first one I remember relating to on a deeper level is Tell Her About It by Billy Joel. I had developed a crush on the best friend of my best friend's little sister. She was a sophomore and I was a senior. And even though I never found the nerve to ask her out, Billy's friendly admonition to let a woman know how I feel eventually sank in. Another song that has helped me immensely over the years is I Get Knocked Down by Chumbawamba. Whenever I find myself in a place where everything seems to be going wrong and all my allies have taken the day off, this song power dives into my brain. The chorus becomes my mantra and I'm ready to take on any and all comers. The song that has touched me the deepest, though, is Glory of Love by Peter Cetera. From the very first listen, from the very first time I pictured myself as someone's hero, their knight in shining armor, I KNEW I'd found MY definition of love. Love isn't about what you can get, but about what you can give. It isn't about being on someone's shoulders, but putting the person you love on yours. In a perfect world, both would be doing this equally for each other. But we don't live in a perfect world. My first wife, the woman I was in love with when this song was released, didn't see the value of having a knight in shining armor. Or perhaps my armor wasn't truly shining. So even though we had chosen this as OUR song, it didn't prove to represent OUR life. For years I'd fought with feelings of inadequacy from not having been man enough to be her hero. No matter what else I'd accomplish, this failure still played havoc with my self esteem. Then one day, I met someone who saw the valiant knight inside of me. I'd truly thought that part of me dead, but this wonderful woman swore that not only was it alive, but it permeated my entire personality. At first, her words of praise and encouragement sounded strange. She was somehow confusing the man I AM with the man I WANTED to be. Silly girl. She was so sweet, though, so I humored her kind words. I'd correct her from time to time so that she'd know who she was REALLY dealing with. But she was persistent. Very persistent. She truly seemed to believe that I was already the knight in shining armor I so very much longed to be. I still have trouble picturing myself on a white steed, sword held high, fighting back any and all who threaten my lady fair. But I'm convinced that she sees me this way. So, I keep my eyes open. I keep alert for opportunities to be her hero. Because while I may not be a valiant knight, I just may be the perfect man for her. I love you, Susan. |
| My first kiss? I don't remember it. My first memorable kiss? I don't want to talk about it. My first kiss I want to talk about? I'd rather relive it with Susan instead. |
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I did get up late and need to get going myself. 
