SHARING [with the Twitter #WritingCommunity]

WHAT ARE YOU WRITING?

Begin:

What ARE YOU WRITING!!!???

Them: “First of all, We need to know what you’ve been doing. You’re a big liar, so don’t bullshit us!”

 

Me: “What do you mean? I’ve been writing?”

 

Them: “That was two questions.”

 

Me: “Well, yeah. What do you expect?”

 

Them: “We expect an answer to our initial question. We repeat: What have you been doing?”

 

Me: “Well, I could say it’s none of your business. Or, I could say you look funny in your millennial clothes. Or, I could ignore you all and not let you know what the hell I’ve been doing. However, what is the second thing you want to know?”

 

Them: “What do you mean?”

 

Me: “You said ‘first of all,’ if I’m not mistaken.”

 

Them: “Oh. Yeah. BUT YOU STILL HAVEN’T ANSWERED OUR FIRST QUESTION!”

 

Me: “Jesus fuckin Christ – stop yelling!”

 

Them: “We have a right to know. We as the #WritingCommunity on Twitter DEMAND ANSWERS of all following lackeys! We’re supposed to be a ‘tight-knit’ community of like-minded #writers, soothing each other into a false sense of non-writer’s block excitement and super #writing accomplishments, so as to bolster each of us toward the ‘powers-that-be’ and ‘gate-keepers’ of traditional publishing.”

 

Me: “Now who’s lying? You know you can self-publish. You know you can flash-fiction. You know you can create whatever you want to get your words out there, now that the Internet is in control of world powers of writing industries you’re a subset of.

It even controls the new designs and methodologies of Ancient Publishing Castles! AND, there’s not much anyone can do about it. Your only hope – ‘OBI-WON-KENOBI’ – is to hope you’re read by a William Randolph Hearst wannabee, making it in the Trad-Pub field and hope they’ll puff you like Billy Graham, to grand-slam you to super-stardom on the NYTimes best seller’s list!”

 

Them: “Now wait a cotton-picking minute. You’re deflecting like Trump. You’re starting a war that may destroy everything we’ve as an electronic #writingcommunity have fought for, up until this minute. AND, you still haven’t answered our initial question. You are right though, the #writingcommunity demands an answer.”

 

Me: “I object to that racist remark about cotton and picking.”

 

Them: “OH – YOU’RE SO FRUSTRATING! WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN WRITING!!!!”

 

Me: “OK, ok. Calm down. I’ll let you know. But you really didn’t ask that specific question.”

 

Them: “Finally. Thank you.”

 

Me: “Writing?”

 

Them: “FUCKIN CHRIST!”

 

Me: “Now, now. Such language. You asked.”

 

Them: “THAT WAS A QUESTION!”

 

Me: “Yes it was. You see, I’m not sure. I can’t be writing if I think I have writer’s block. And, I can’t be thinking I have writer’s block if I’m writing this. And, it’s hard to define ‘Writer’s-Block.’ Have you ever really thought about it long and hard? Have you ever really wondered if maybe it’s all about life getting in the way? I think I’ve had ‘Life-Block’ nagging me for all of my 68 years on this blue orb in space – about my writing.

 

For instance, back in 1956-7 I had my first open-heart surgery and experienced the worst physical pain a child could ever deal with. I suffered almost dying through suffocation after, in post-op, by contracting pneumonia. It lead to a severe slow grade-school education embroiled in a PTSD, envied and rivaled by Vietnam Vets. However, I did get published while in 3rd grade.

I’m not sure why that teacher put me in command of the whole class and its public writing adventure, but she must have seen fit to make me the ‘recording secretary’ in the hierarchy of PS 29’s Class 3-2. I will state for the record – the whole class edited my work. It’s where I learned nothing you write is your own – once you write it, it gets mashed by everyone. That’s ok. A writer has to learn that. We’re not alone on this earth.

 

Them: “Goddamn. You’re deflecting again.”

 

Me: “And then my sophomore high-school English teacher told me I had something. She was a leading teacher in expository writing. Apparently, she couldn’t figure out how anyone living in Northwood, New Hampshire could be a class A circumlocution writer.”

 

Them: “Now what the fuck are you talking about?”

 

Me: “Exactly. And, well, by the time I graduated bottom of my class in high-school, the last thing I wanted to do was write or even go to college. I couldn’t spall. And I thanked the gods on mount Olympus I was 4-F.

My ticket out of Vietnam.”

 

Them: “So, are you saying you are writing or not? And if so, what about our second question?”

 

Me: “I’ve stated in the near past, I’m dealing with a fictional book in the Crime-Drama/Sci-Fi genre and also writing a memoir.”

 

Them: “Finally! An answer!”

 

Me: “Not much of an answer is it?”

 

Them: “Well, at least is was something.”

 

Me: “So, that’s it? That’s all you want to know?”

 

Them: “Tell us more about ‘Life-Block’ getting in the way and why you’re not published since 3rd grade.”

 

Me: “Most of its none of your business. Or, you could just use the Internet to find out all the Fake news about me. There’s a gold mine of ridiculous information about me written by AKA dudes that faked their way onto the Internet since the beginning of the Internet. But, I digress.”

 

Them: “When did you start your memoir?”

 

Me: “About 19 years ago.”

 

Them: “Is it done?”

 

Me: “No. I’m still alive and I only got up to the 7th grade.”

 

Them: “Have you ever queried?”

 

Me: “Yes.”

 

Them: “To who? When?”

 

Me: “Bantam Books. The publisher wrote a nice note and gave feed-back. I was shocked. But ‘life-block’ got in the way again.”

 

Them: “What happened?”

 

Me: “Got married, had to work and had seven kids before I realized why that was happening.”

 

Them: “So, you’re a horny dude?”

 

Me: “Um. Thank you. Now you’re digressing.”

 

Them: “So, you never went to college?”

 

Me: “I dropped out in 1972. But not before my Creative-Writing Professor told me outside class that I should write. I didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about, after seeing nothing but red marks on all my essays. I thought it had to do with my extensive use of marijuana. {and maybe his} Thus, I went on to make money in NYC.”

 

Them: “In writing?”

 

Me: “Fuck no. There’s no money in it. Shooting for Trad-Pub is the lottery. I made big money in construction.”

 

Them: “So why are you writing now? Why are you writing a memoir? Why are you writing a Sci-Fi/Crime drama novel?”

 

Me: “Wow. Three questions. You take redundancy to great heights.

It takes the ‘Life-Block’ pain away that kept me from writing and helps me annoy people that need to be annoyed.”

 

Them: “Hmmm… We sure know about being annoyed by you.”

 

Me: “Thank you.”

 

Them: “Fucking Christ.”

 

Me: “Yeah. I know. It’s fun, isn’t it?”

Them:

“Explain about the memoir. Why would anyone *without* a public persona, think they could ever get a memoir Trad-Pub-ed? ”

Me:

“Well, that’s what most people assume, so I’ll ask you this: Why would constantly reading about the 1% and their narcissistic accomplishments, suspect achievements and legal un-ethical greed – written by people from the same ilk – provide anything with defining interests in the world that may detail the poor, wackos, homelessness and social deviant outcasts?

The latter lives are just as interesting, if not more. – Especially if you look at atheists. They know more than anything in the universe religious ‘Fundies’ could ever fathom.”

Them:

“Fundies? ”

Me:

“Right-wing religious Funda-Mentalists.”

Them:

“So now we’re headed for a religious war in a memoir? ”

Me:

“One needs to realize we are in that war as we speak. Consider the growing rebellion in this country. It’s all based on ‘exvangelicals’ taking the bull by the horn and throwing shit back, at the likes of Roberston, his lackeys, Graham fools and all the other people supporting ‘Donny the Tramp’ and their four year quest for enacting ‘self-fulfilling prophecies’ they’ve been trying to get to fruition, since the 1980s – base on the biggest fictional book ever written: The Bible.”

Them:

“Wow. That’s some statement. So your memoir will expose the hypocritical and intense sub-conspiracies enacted by the government and right-wing religions since the end of WWII?”

Me:

“Maybe. But I’m more inclined to feed the 8th grade reading levels of the general population with mind boggling exploits of an exasperated grade school developed – hippie – and a horny teenager, with nothing but sex on his mind since the age of seven.”

Them:

“Interesting.”

Me:

“See. You took the bait. Possible ‘Click-Bait’.”

Them:

“Wait a minute! What the fuck do you mean?”

Me:

“I rest my case.”

Them:

“We think you should move on to the novel you’re writing and give us some details. Share with us all about it.”

Me:

“That, my friends… can I call you friends? …is something I cannot talk or write about until it is finished. I can’t discuss one iota about the work. I’m under a gag order from my psychiatrists.

Yes. I have more than one. I always like getting three quotes on all my projects.”

Them:

“So they’ve beta read all your work so far?”

Me:

“No fucking way. Fuck them. They’re all insane too.”

Them:

“So you’re saying you’re insane?”

Me:

“Of course. Why would I be talking or writing about this if I wasn’t?”

Them:

“Holy Fucking Shit. Who knew?!”

Me:

“I hear a tone.”

Them:

“So. Where do we go from here?”

Me:

“You can go fuck yourself.”

Them:

“Is this some ‘dystopian’ revelatory exercise in mental break-down or what?”

Me:

“I love you.”

Them:

“Holy shit. You ARE fucking insane.”

Me:

“We aim to please the masses under constant government control. The proletariat are massively insecure. Remember that, and remember to instill fear at every opportunity. FEAR BREEDS CONSUMPTION!”

Them:

“So. You’re saying you’re insane and instilling fear into the #WritingCommunity in order to increase sales of all their recent publications? Self-Pubbed or not?”

Me:

“I think you’re getting a little too personal now. Stop it. But Shit – look at what has happened to toilet paper these days.”

Them:

“Hey – whatever floats your boat.”

Me:

“I can’t swim.”

Them:

“We going to send the police to your house.”

Me:

“What for?”

Them:

“You’ve been smoking something and it is illegal.”

Me:

“How do you know that? Maybe I know what the hell you’ve been doing since this discourse started yesterday. And, anyway – I left New Hampshire and it’s legal here in Maine. AND, I’ve hacked your phones, TV, computers and your thermostats inside your house, since you’ve been so enthralled with this writing. I know everything you’ve been doing since last night. It is US, that are coming, to GET YOU!”

Them:

“___”

Me:

“HELLO?”

Them:

“___”

Me:

“SPEAK TO ME. WRITE SOMETHING!”

Them:

“___”

Me:

“GOD DAMN YOU BASTIDS!”

Them:

“___”

Me:

“I want you all to know that the Moon is infected with bad blue cheese.”

Them:

“___”

Me:

“I also want to let you know there are rats and snakes in your basements, cellars and hidden compartments in your walls, creeping around and looking through peep holes, wherever they can find, or chew them open. Good luck.”

Them:

“___”

Me:

“Ok. So now were playing the game where my audience doesn’t respond or criticize or even follow me anymore. Typical. THE TRUTH HURTS.”

Them:

“___”

Me:

“THE END IS NEAR.”

Them:

“___”

Me:

“ALLNESS IS NOT ACCEPTABLE.”

Them:

“___”

Me:

“TWIGGY WAS TRANS-GENDERED!”

Them:

“___”

Me:

“BOX TOYS ARE JUST THAT – BOX TOYS.”

Them:

“___”

Me:

“@joycemaynard gave J.D. Salinger blow jobs.”

Them:

“NOW WAIT A MINUTE! HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT?”

Me:

“I read her memoir books. I know how to read.”

Them:

“You’re disgusting.”

Me:

“Life is life. It’s all about not being subjugated.”

Them:

“We’ll having nothing more to do with you.”

Me:

“Yes you will. I am omnipotent.”

Them:

“You are insane.”

Me:

“Thank you. And goodbye.”

Them:

“Wait. You were right. She did blow him.”

Me:

“___”

Them:

“We were wrong. Please come back.”

Me:

“___”

Them:

“Hello? COME BACK – WE DID!”

Me:

“___”

Them:

“What is this? Tit for tat?”

Me:

“___”

Them:

“FINE!”

~~~

Welcome to Stories Of Ole O.

Posted in Abstract Crazy Writing, Creative, Fake Research, Fiction, Historical Fiction, History, Imaginative Breaking News, Member Communication, Memoir, Opinion, R rating, Uncategorized, Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Challenges in writing at sixty or older?

To:

Marian Thorpe

@marianlthorpe

Hey, #seniorwriters in #WritingCommunity. Drafting &/or published, self, indie or trad, anyone interested in contributing blog posts on motivations, challenges,  triumphs, strengths, of being a writer over a certain age (55? 60?)

12:17 PM · Jun 30, 2019 ·

It ain’t tebackee.

515 words:

Challenges in writing at sixty or older?

Think about being worried, in a hospital or going to the doctor “AGAIN.”  Dealing with bad times or unexpected times – life issues stopping you cold from that deadline.

Why should I start writing again? I mean, I go from one uncompleted project for three weeks to another, because of my health.

I’ve been on crutches and can’t go to the bathroom without – excruciating pain. Who can write?!

But wait, I can deal with the pain. No one knows the pain I’ve been through. A small virus in my intestines is nothing like having your chest cracked open 3 times since you were 5 years old. OMG. No one knows that pain.

I swear at my parents. I swear at my doctors. I swear at myself. I swear at the gods that did this to me and realize I can’t do a fucking thing about it.

I AM THE PAIN. I LEARN THE PAIN. I DEAL WITH THE PAIN. (then I thank the doctors and nurses for the meds that temporarily stop my pain…)

My leg or arm wasn’t blown off in a bomb attack. I can’t think of that type of pain. Yet, pain is pain. It impedes a good writing session.  No argument – hands down.

When I’m healthy, I can work – either with my hands or my head. Things are much easier then. Much simpler. AND, all those teachers and professors since the third grade saying to me: “You Should Write!”

HELLO?

It’s difficult when I can’t feel creative or looking at my heart rate monitor in a hospital and I’m being held hostage for four days because they can’t figure out what the hell is going on with my heart rhythm.

Yet I feel fine. They try to convince me otherwise and I start to wonder if I’m in a Twilight-Zone episode. Everyone in the hospital – especially the administration idiots in pig masks are messing with my head. Most of all, they’re LIARS. I threaten legal action and they take their masks off.

They can’t wait to sign me out.

But I won’t sign a damn thing. I get back at them for messing with my creative writing. Making them pay for their lack of knowledge.

I know my body better than anyone.

I get home and self-doubt enters my consciousness as I worry about my blood pressure rising every time I take it, 5 times in a row, starting to think I should call 911, when I’m trying to write.

But, I stop and rest and think hard.

Yes – I ate 5 pieces of bacon at the Windmill restaurant. They made a mistake with the “small order” of sausage links and brought five delicious, smelly bacon slices and my wife is on a plane to Denver for a week and she won’t know I’m eating them and the waitress swore allegiance to me and won’t tell.

I love her.

Did she know it could kill you? No. Anyway – It’s not her fault. She doesn’t know I’m a writer. Where are the words?

American writer Ernest Hemingway (1899 – 1961) working at a portable table while on a big game hunt in Kenya, September 1952. (Photo by Earl Theisen/Getty Images)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Creative, History, Imaginative Breaking News, Member Communication, Memoir, Muses, Opinion, Uncategorized, Writing | Tagged , , , ,

The Twitterverse #vss365a posts for June 2019

It ain’t tebackee.

#vss365a posts on Twitter for end of May and into June – 2019 StoriesOfØleØ 📚✒✍♿ @doleolesen
~~~
About #vss365a =
What is it? It is a hashtag a writer uses to enter into a possibility of getting your daily, V= Very S= Short S=Story (vss)
Published in an anthology next year.
Everyday there is a word that is prompted – and usually I hashtag the word – like #ancient – the June 1st post.
No one knows who will be published. One has to wait and see. (an hope it’s not a scam)
See the first post after the following quotes from the end of May:
~~~
May 28
The measure of intelligence is the ability to change. #Einstein
Jun 2
“#Imagination is more important than knowledge. For knowledge is limited to all we now know and understand, while #imagination embraces the entire world, and all there ever will be to know and understand.” ~ Albert #Einstein
Jun 3
“Laughter is timeless, #imagination has no age and dreams are forever.” ~ Walt Disney
~~~
Begin very short stories 365a

~~~
Jun 1
SHIMMER
Tacit knowledge recoiled
Empty phrases squelched
Blind seas cleared to
Inaudible bubbles bursting
Windy swells swirling
Colorless water above
Confined to dreams
And nightmares
And vagueness churned
Brings silence back
To #ancient depths of shoals
#vss365a
~~~
For June 2nd, please see June 7th – something happened to the original post on Twitter. (suspicions afoot!)
~~~
Jun 3
Black ceiling of the #Universe, punctured by pin-pricked holes, twinkling white;
Northern Lights twizzled & twisted in airy space;
Reverberated colors of #willow lengthed branches;
Exploding a trillion light years thru two windows attached to my brain;

#imagination.
#vss365a
~~~
Jun 4, 2019

Quote:
“Writing is the act of reaching across the abyss of isolation to share and reflect.” #NatalieGoldberg – from “Old Friend from Far Away”
#Insomnia
#InsomniacWritersClub
#Writing #AmEditing #writers #WritingCommunity #writerscommunity #amwriting #writerslife #NHWriters #goodmorn
~~~
Jun 4
#Lotus
We ate
Assumed position
Controlling
Demanding
Filling thickness within
Grinding down
Encircling up
Entwined in time
Hitting center
Her mastered drone
Moaning spots with
Slow wet rumbles
And squirting glees
And screaming pleasures
#vss365a #WritingCommunity
#amwriting
~~~
Jun 5
Pipe Dreams
my comfy chair
smelling swirls
conceiting a chimera
revealing figments
of synaptic revelations
& fanciful fantasies
with hosts of nudes
riding the beast
creating visionary unrealities
reeking elements of #imaginations
that rock my world’s #phantasm
#vss365a
~~~
Jun 7
#Century upon century, her blood soaked teeth drained humanity of its red life-force.
Feasting nightly in alley-ways, highways & byways – constantly lurking.
Creating & birthing races of feasting ghouls, with overwhelming blood desires and pure white creepy flesh.
#vss365a
~~~
Jun 7 – originally June 2 post:
Maintaining elite refractory control & utilizing solid mindfulness – an impenetrable vessel of no escape, useless advances & designs in their brains melted & liquified within my unique mental #crucible, skimming their dross for hours & a non-existent exegesis for their fodder.
~~~

Jun 8
Where there’s #smoke there’s fire, caused by confusion in a #century of fake news. No #mercy for newbies on #twitter, where #craven charlatans, #willow their #ancient B.S. ways, enacting narcissistic, #lotus blooming dominance & creepy #phantasms of pure distortion.
#vss365a
~~~
Jun 8
Quote:
“I have too much imagination to be a housewife.”
~ Marilyn Monroe
#writerslife
#WritingCommunity
#amwriting
#amediting
#writerscommunity
#SaturdayThoughts
#readers
~~~

Jun 9
The ultimate #motif?
Difficult. We live, we love, we die, for if we don’t love, nothing continues on, to love & life, with death parting us all.
Imaginations reel at thoughts of a final part, a “sweet sorrow,” designed incarnate, by aliens making our species. Honor form.
#vss365a
~~~
June 10, 2019
#MondayMotivation
Getting ready to flip my lids this week and grow a pair of #wings to fly like a hummingbird, where old hats & wigs may get in the way.
#writingcommunity
#vss365a

~~~
Jun 11
Lotus

We ate
Assumed positions
Controlled
Demanded
Filling thickness within
Grinding down
Encircling
Entwined in time
Hitting
Her mastered drone
With circling visions of
Dreamed stingers
Moaning spots
Slow wet rumbles
& squirting glees
& screaming pleasures
#NaturesVerse 166
~~~
Jun 11
I outlasted childhood & young adulthood.
It was exhausting.
I shirked affability, shyness & avoided authority by exposing levels of incompetence, stupidity & insolence.
I endured emotional abuse – yet maintained #empathy, toward the downcast & disabled.
= A survivor.
#vss365a
~~~
Jun 12
IGOR! RING THE BELL!

Master, they’ll perceive a #ruse.

RING THE BELL, NOW DAMN IT, HURRY!

Are you sure master? The sun is not risen.

IGOR! LOOK @ ME! THE MONSTER HAS ESCAPED!

Very well master. As you command. How many times?

R U INSANE???!!! RING THE DAMN BELL!
#vss365a
~~~
Jun 13
Check your watch.

It’s midnight, a black as coal moonless side of life.

Spare me sad prose. Shut up & use your night-vision goggles.

What am I looking for?

Signs of life. Not stupid words.

I see Catwoman

SHOOT! Before she spreads germs!

What would PETA say?

Who?

#vss365a

~~~
The clock struck #midnight. We watched – an eternity – the seconds clicking down & the warden’s hand, flipping the switch. The body jerked, jolted
upwards, shaking violently & spewing an exploding hot liquid drippy mass, from under the hood.
Too much electricity.
#horror
#vss365a
~~~
Jun 13
To stand out in a crowd you must first join the crowd.

@doleolesen

6.13.19
You can quote me on that.
#quotestoliveby
#myquotes

~~~
Jun 14
Year 3240
Everyone is metal. My brain, contained inside an encased glass-bottle, w tubes & other nefarious lines, running to & fro, not unlike the rear engine of an old 1967 red Volkswagen. Assembly line repair turned the last 13th #bolt. I finally blew a gasket.
#vss365a
#scifi
~~~
Jun 14
Time froze me solid in a narrow cleft, betwixt 2 rock walls. Arms rose without permission, my hands both grabbing a bolt of lightning & golden arrow & inexplicably slamming together, exploding & slathering pure lava over my naked form, pressing me into the god I am. #vss365a
~~~
Jun 16
#Vintage sepia-toned films of creativity, started films of immense imagination.
It took a decade to realize “The Wizard of Oz” was created this way & blossomed into color when Dorothy landed in Oz.
When we finally got a color TV, my eyes were opened to: The Emerald Green City!
~~~
Jun 16
Seeking shamans
stumbling in the woods
grabbed knees & sneezed

Carpet flowers bloomed
Deafening noise erupted
& trees wept under
hanging canopy of leaves

Rising #totem
lone misted with
ocular confrontation
Ancient races mirrored
with my gurn bereft
of flesh & face
#vss365a
~~~
Jun 17, 2019

#Fog wilting
She appearing
Minds melding
Brains melting
Love molding
Lives meshing
Loins wetting
Valleys erupting
Hearts birthing
Children sucking
Teens rebelling
Times reeling
Earths revolving
Universe expanding
Stars collapsing
Infinites waiting
For nothing
To appear

#vss365a

~~~
The following was a response to someone who said they loved ‘Falling’ into my stories:

When one enters the spaces of weightlessness, (falling) one embraces the sensation, without judgments of time.
Once fallen, you embrace it & revel in the joy of floating forever in peace. Falling is good without landing too hard. Thank you.

~~~
Jun 18, 2019
What came to me today, to use the word #sentient – for the daily #prompt #writing – #vss365a, is so classified, I cannot, in all comprehension, share it with the world, until the time is right. Why?
Clue: Veritus Inter Mundos (u must have a clean heart, untainted by any religion)

~~~

SO IF YOU’VE READ THIS FAR – WOW – I’m impressed.

And – if you don’t want to wait another month to see what I’ve been up to with my writing – just join Twitter (you can block the potus…lol) or just visit this blog and watch the very small twitter feed at the right side of the web-page.

Good Luck!

~ Ole Olesen

Posted in Uncategorized | 2 Comments

TODAY’S QUOTE:

 

 

“Read, read, read. Read everything – trash, classics, good and bad, and see how they do it. Just like a carpenter who works as an apprentice and studies the master. Read! You’ll absorb it. Then write. If it’s good, you’ll find out. If it’s not, throw it out of the window.”
~~ William Faulkner

Posted in Uncategorized

Øle’s Updated Reading List

ØLE’S READING LIST 2015-2019 reading list:

[It all started with Dick and Jane]

CURRENTLY READING:

THE GOD FATHER – MARIO PUZO (2nd time – 1st 1970)

~~~

Books in Queue For Reading:

THE LAST GODFATHER – SIMON CRITTLE

DOUBLE CROSS: THE EXPLOSIVE INSIDE STORY OF THE MOBSTER WHO CONTROLLED AMERICA – SAM AND CHUCK GIANCANA WITHE BETTINA GIANCANA

JFK – KILLIGEN – OBAMA & THE NEW WORLD ORDER – DAN MCQUADE

~~~

Books Recently Read:

WISE GUY: 25TH ANNIVERSARY EDITION – NICHOLAS PILEGGI

THE BIG HEIST: THE REAL STORY OF THE LUFTHANSA HEIST, THE MAFIA AND MURDER – ANTHONY M. DESTEFANO

THE LUFTHANSA HEIST – Henry Hill and Daniel Simone

INSIDE THE LUFTHANSA HEIST **** Kerry Whalen

TEMPTED TO STAY – KRYST ASHLY

THE POISON PATRIARCH: HOW THE BETRAYALS OF JOSEPH P. KENNEDY CAUSED THE ASSASSINATION OF JFK – MARK SHAW

THE ELEMENTS OF STYLE * William Strunk Jr. (a refresher)

THE LIARS’CLUB ***** Mary Karr

A MOVEABLE FEAST ***** Ernest Hemingway

ON WRITING ***** A Memoir Of The Craft – Stephen King

OLD FRIEND FROM FAR AWAY ***** Natalie Goldberg

WRITING DOWN THE BONES ***** Natalie Goldberg

How to become a published Author **** Mark W. Shaw

The Reporter Who Knew Too Much ***** Mark William Shaw

The Last Days of Marilyn Monroe **** Donald H. Wolfe

The STRANGER IN THE WOODS: The Extraordinary Story of the last True Hermit. **** Michael Finkel

The FIGHTS on the LITTLE HORN – 50 Years of Research into Custer’s Last Stand. *** by Gordon Harper

***** WOODEN LEG – A Warrior Who Fought Custer ***** (the culture of Native Americans and their memory of the battle)

Reasonable Doubt – A shocking Story of Lust and Murder in the American Heartland – by Steve Vogel ****

The Black Hawk War – Frank Stevens **

***** Lincoln’s Last Trial – by Dan Abrams ***** (great insight into Lincoln’s abilities as a defense lawyer)

Chappaquiddick: Power, Privilege, and the Ted… – by Leo Damore ***

The Shinning – by Stephen King ****

Dr. Sleep (sequel to the Shinning) – by Stephen King ****

The Truth about the Titanic – by Archibald Gracie ***

The President is Missing, a novel – by James Patterson and Bill Clinton ***

God Code: Unlocking Divine messages Hidden… by Timothy P. Smith **** (see the youtube videos to see why I was interested)

2nd time reading – The Temple: Its Ministry and Services as they… by Alfred Edersheim * (tough 19th century style reading)

The Lost Book of Moses: The Hunt for the Word… by Chanan Tigay *****

Time Travel MEGAPACK: 26 Modern and … by Edward M. Lerner ***

2 time reading – Battle Cry – by Leon Uris ***

Satan’s Circus: Murder, Vice, Police Corruption… by Mike Dash ***

When I Fell From the Sky – by Juliane Diller (Koepcke) ***** – true story

Time and Again (Time series – Book 1) – By Jack Finney ***** – excellent time travel book

Chasing the Ripper (Kindle Single) – by Patricia Cornwell ****

Treadmill to Oblivion: My Days in Radio – by Fred Allan *** – semi funny from the old days

In the Year 2889 – by Jules Vern ***

The Prey (Prey Trilogy) – by Tom Isbell  **

The Capture (Prey Trilogy) – by Tom Isbell **

The Curious Case of the Copper Corpse: A Flav… – by Alan Bradley **

The Old Man and the Sea – by Ernest Hemingway **** – Hemingway at his best

The Rainbow Comes and Goes: A Mother and.. – by Anderson Cooper **** – found it very interesting

 

~~~

FUTURE BOOKS IN THOUGHT:

THE POEMS OF WILLIAM WINTER – William Winter – 1909

CASINO ROYALE

FEBRUARY: SELECTED POETRY OF BORIS PASTERNAK

DOCTOR ZHIVAGO

THE BEST OF US: A Memoir – Joyce Maynard

THE ROMANOVS: The Final Chapter – Robert K. Massie

 

CHARLESGATE CONFIDENTIAL – Scott Bon Doviak

The FLIGHT ATTENDANT: A Novel – Chris Bohjalian

LEONARDO DA VINCI – Walter Isaacson

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Today’s Small Discussion on NYC, Music & Writing.

7 am, 3.19.19.

TODAY’S BLURB BROUGHT TO YOU BY: ABBA

~~~

I started my working years during the 1970s.

I worked and flourished in the hustle and bustle of the city that never sleeps – NYC  – and sometimes I’d work through the night when no one was around on empty floors while I blasted the great music of the era.

And one of my early loves kept me company.

“Come… Fly With Me” ~ Alison Steele – the Queen of Midnight Radio -her voice made love to me and kept me going with her radio show. God I loved her voice. Damn. She died in 1995. RIP Alison! You are missed. {sniffles} FUCK CANCER.

~~~

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alison_Steele

I worked daily on a six-foot scaffold, on four wheels and rolled around high-rise office rooms – sans furniture – providing full renovation of tenant ceilings. If you’re in an office in NYC right now, look up. I’m one of the guys that may have installed that ceiling above you. Especially if you’re on a floor that hasn’t been renovated in over forty years or so. {I might have signed my real name above that ceiling – hidden from your view.}

I did not work without music. It was a must. I despised anyone who told me to turn the music off or leave the job-site. I think I may have left a few of those times. They had no right. If they didn’t allow music, I’d bark like a dog for the entire remaining length of the job. WOOF WOOF!

I was nick-named: “Barking Dog,” because I would never cease throwing my voice, sounding exactly like a barking dog (or a pack of dogs) in the distance. I was one helluva ventriloquist and ergo, building tenants had to ask the construction supervisors, to find the dog on the 80th floor and “get it the fuck” out of the building.

They didn’t believe it when they found out it was me. Woof. Fuck you – NO MUSIC?! MY ASS!

I still refuse to work without music and continue that process to this day at home – in the north woods of nowhere – where no one can complain. YES!

Now I write with music of the 70s blaring in the background, where my work-life originally exploded in love, procreation and a practice of my guitar which eventually lead to recording sessions.

Ah. Music. It’s a force of my life. Yours?

And here I’ll leave this short discussion of my past life in NYC during the height of GREAT RECORDED MUSIC.

And – TODAY – I WRITE TO THE MUSIC OF:

ABBA!

{Just imagine me wiggling on my scaffold as I grew into one of the best ceiling specialists, in the city.  – Ah tearful laughing memories – So Mote It BE.}

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Today’s Quote

“There is no tediousness of solitude to him who has within himself resources of thought and dream, the pleasures and pains of memory, the bliss and the torture of imagination.”

~ William Winter – 1836-1917.

https:/ /en.wikipedia.org/ wiki/ William_Winter_(author)

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