Being the Change...Tag, You're It!

A scarlet, blood-red font to begin...

And then things take a turn. 

I watch as our mad world continues to spin, and realize that not much has changed. One of the reasons for that, of course, is our innate fear of change, doing anything different, and being different in any way but for the norm.

As we move into the "Holiday" season, I am not detecting as much of the annual madness this year. Mostly I think because I am trying to ignore it. 

My family and I stopped the gift-giving madness in the early 80s, because of cost. Even then, in the money-money-money 80s, we saw before others what was coming. I am not opposed to the give, or the get, but some things just lose their whatever.

This month is one that I get through, rather than experience. I do not feel the Christmas spirit, partly because of the ongoing argument.

We bitch and complain about the consumerist excess, but queue up at Black Friday and trample people to get "deals."

We talk about the religious reasons/aspects of the holiday, and how differently it was celebrated (not at all, really), and forget that entirely, forgetting conveniently that the holidays are Pagan ones.

I see no reason to not be kind to yourself this time of year, or at any time. I'm usually working most holidays, but I've also been fortunate to have friends willing to make space for one of those outlanders at their table or in their home for a bit. It's always cool.

I do find myself pretty often realizing my disgust for people who continue to live in a delusional fantasy that usually involves spewing hatred like blasts of birdshot, typically from behind a computer keyboard and a fake screen name. Or if they are really narcissistic, they put their name on it.

Look at me! 

Nah, I'll pass.

This is an exciting comment, and there's a backstory to it, and it has to do with a mother asking Gandhi's counsel about her son's sugar habit.

Gandhi reportedly said, come back in two weeks, and I'll have a talk with him.

Perplexed, the lady did as asked. He then spoke with the child, who said he'd work on it.

The mother asked, why did you wait two weeks?

Gandhi reportedly replied he had the same bad habit, and took the two weeks to work on it himself.

Interesting.

I'd heard that before, only it was a father asking for his son. Apocryphal or not, it is an example of not doing, "Do as I say, not as I do."

I, for example, cannot tell someone to stop drinking coffee. Nor would I ever.

Not sure why I'm writing about this, but change is a thing that is so frightening.

The reason we see the backlash against progress, and this is progress of any kind, is because those who think they have something to lose, actually think they're going to lose it.

Their guns, their marriage, their privilege, their...whatever.

We have a sad sense of nostalgia, as evidenced by our love affair with old things. Old music, which we have some connection to (I can't deny it), old TV shows, old cars, old movies, all leading up to the "Way Things Used to Be."

I once wrote in a lyric, "Don't look back at the past, because it might just catch up to you." 

Too many just remember the good things; they don't remember the trauma. They don't remember the violence. They don't remember the hate. They don't remember what hurt them.

And yet they still go back there, don't they?

It is fine to listen to great sounds from the past, whatever ones you love because there's great inspiration there. Authors, too, although as one myself I've felt rather disappointed in some of them.

Certain books I thought were great books, weren't so great in my mind. Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov, is hardly erotic or even sexual. It is an attack on the paper it's printed on, by a fiddling, obsessive-compulsive character, who began by writing a fascinating, descriptive tale...and the last half of it was a repeat that served zero purposes.

E.M. Forster's A Passage to India I'm trying to get through. The story is one that takes you there, and you are immersed in the colonialism, the racism, the outright arrogance of Britain. The Indian characters are willingly subjugated, foolish, stereotypical, even the doctors and lawyers who have somehow managed an education, lucky to avoid the lower castes.

It just does not translate into a story, but meanders in and out of places, and while it makes some sense, it does not tell me a good story.

There's a lot of great writers, many more good ones, and a lot of awful ones.

That's fucking that.

I don't think most writers are born great, nor are they recognized for it. I do cringe when certain people are hailed as the next great American author, or the next great whatever. What makes them great?

Somehow they fall into it, tell a story that grabs people, and it just works. But it needs to be in the hands of those who can get it into other hands, just as people put things on top of other things.

I'm going through another cycle of cynicism, but thankfully my old habits are largely gone, apart from the afore-mentioned caffeine.

So yeah...the change.

Tag, we're it!

If we want change, we have to make it. How do we do it?

You decide for yourself. 

This is the thing...I write...for ME.

I had to get that through my head. These are stories I want to write, am inspired to write, and enjoy writing. This is how I discharge all of the madness from inside my head, in order to figure out what's going to show up next.

Now, a shameless plug:

Live from the Cafe, available at http://www.sunburypressstore.com/Live-from-the-Cafe-9781620067147.htm

...and Amazon.com if you like.

Live is kind of a go back home story because I drew on growing up in Vermont, near Quebec, and the things I recalled (what I can, anyway) formed the basis of that story.

The mythical town of Harlandsville is a place that could be anywhere, but it also changes with the times.

Change is the big C in that town...they talk about it, think about it, experience it, and don't always like it.

But they DO IT.

The residents of the town, lifers, transplants, regular passers through? They know it's happening, and they can't stop it. But they carry one because their lives depend on that change.

It may seem that weird little cafe is the place where time stops, but it's only for a little while. Where the Smartphones are put away, and people have nothing to do but drink coffee, and talk to each other.

Not a bad thing, now and again.

I think if I did run a cafe, I'd be out of business in six months w/o no wifi...but it'd be kinda different, don't you think?

Okay to live in the time when you didn't have hotspots, but again you're not living there. 

And you know, Luc and Emily are Millennials, but their clientele goes across the spectrum. There, NO ONE gives a shit whether you're an old far, a Boomer, a Yuppie, a Gen X-er, or a Millennials, or what the fuck you are.

Step inside, you're welcome.

Make that every damn place we go. 

I don't give a fuck who or what you are. Respect is a two-way street. Don't give me shit, I won't give you shit.

Figure out how to straighten things out, and not just in a wardroom coffee clatch, but actually get out and do it.

I do it through work, by being fair, straight-up, and our employer is that way. You know when you hear us, you hear it fairly and correctly. 

If you like it, good. If you don't, that's fine, but you have to decide what to do with what you heard and learned.

Change.

The writing? I write for ME, but I hope to write for you. I hope you find my stories interesting, compelling, fun, whatever it does for you I hope is good.

I write what I want to see. The world I hope for, usually in everyday life. It may not be what you see, or want to see but it's a world that is attainable. 

Do we want it enough?

Do we want the change enough?

I know what I do. 

Think about yours.

Peace, Dafuq Out.

I'm Back! New Home, "A Moment in the Sun," and Our Appointment With This Thing Called Life!

How about this? Well, the past several weeks have been a roller-coaster ride for me, and there’s no time to catch my breath, as it were. No, no time at all for I am plunging into the next thing without letup. It does not end, and in some strange respect I suppose that is how I want it.

Since the end of February, when I came home late on a Sunday night and found a “Get The Fuck Out” notice taped to my back door, I have had to kind of think about what I’d long put off: finding a new home.

I’m talking buying, because honestly, renting was not an option. I was damned lucky to rent on the cheap for so many years, and I can imagine the obscenities raining down from the hill when the guy who bought from my landlady saw it. But I think he also knew pretty damned well what he was getting.

House hunting is an art, and one that ideally takes months, if not years. Well, most of us don’t have that time.

After false starts, costs, and insanity of varied kinds, I did move in back in mid-April, and but numerous issues arose which scared off one lender and bank.

One of the wonderful mysteries was the actual owner: I thought we knew the owner. Then we find the owner lives in Spain.

Who then, am I dealing with? Well, it was the broker, who for whatever reason put his name on the deed, and had to go get that off.

Not uncommon, but one more thing.

Numerous inspections, examinations, a carpet that looks like someone was ritually murdered on it, and inability to deal with certain things let me in, but also let me not do everything I wanted to do.

Well, that is something I can work around.

https://www.facebook.com/tory.gates/media_set?set=a.10153791502020787.1073741836.552340786&type=3

Look there, a house! It’s really pretty cool. Airy, cool temps, lots of space, the cats dig it, and I can work about stuff.

Space will still be an issue, and I have a couple of long-running, daunting tasks but I can do them. It will take time.

I do enjoy my neighbors. I have them again. I have blocks of them, and most of ‘em are pretty nice people. Things get interesting late at night, because people like to hang outside.

And…they are at times loud. I mean LOUD. FUCKING LOUD.

But it comes with the territory, and I don’t honestly  mind. How it is.

What else?

Well, I am busy this month, with appearances in support of “A Moment in the Sun.” Last weekend, the Dharma Fools appeared in York at the Rooted Artist Collective:

Pretty cool, eh? Neat little artistic corner place, operated by Dustin Nispel and his merry band…fantastic artwork, jewelry, writings, and both of my books are up there.  We are here:

https://www.reverbnation.com/thedharmafools?profile_view_source=header_icon_nav

There’s a brief blog about the band thing. Nice to see York cooking again when it comes to the arts scene, and I was very happy to get to meet more of those folks.

I’m gonna be busy this weekend, if you’re in the Camp Hill area, come out to the Barnes & Noble on 32^nd Street:

The first ever of these is a nationwide thing. I’ll be there Friday night to hawk “A Moment…” and to meet, greet, and sign books and stuff.

Sunday, I’ll be there again for an afternoon session, which I think will involve discussions. Ought to be fun, network with the reading public and the authoring types.

Leads us to the 16^th, when I’ll be in Mechanicsburg for the annual Jubilee. Sunbury Press Books, my publisher is on the drag, and a bunch of us will be out front of 105 S. Main Street to show what we’ve got.

Also had a talk with Larry Knorr, my publisher. We are leading up to the release of my next book…it might be THIS ONE…

https://www.behance.net/gallery/35175169/Live-from-the-Cafe-Chapter-1-(Rough-Cut)

And of course, all this while holding down a job (two jobs in fact), taking care of the house, trying to have a life (hah!) and also restarting my radio program. Oh yes, that:

www.radio-airwaves.co.uk

There is also a Radio-Airwaves app! Get it via Google Play.

DJ`Riff, my musical alter ego got back on a couple weeks ago, and “The Music Club” is going alright. My times, are floating right now, because of the way the business is going, I still have to work. Check my Facebook and Twitter pages for updates. Oh, and that:

@ToryGates is my handle for Twitting.

I am foot to the floor, still…but on certain levels, I’m not sorry. But I have run into things w/o completely thinking on them, and that’s my nature. I have to brake sometime; but there is so much in life to do.

Muhammad Ali’s passing left behind many quotes, and I don’t mean trash talk. Best one:

“Don’t count the days, make the days count.”

Leave you with that.

Peace, Out.

2015, and the Next Time Around

Well, I'm probably not going to offer you any Earth-shattering stuff this time, and I largely detest year in review laundry lists. I'm trying to think exactly what I should say as I look back at my 50th year.

My half-century has been a good one, not always great but I can't complain too much. If anything, I've advanced in a few ways, and I'm finally starting to see things come to fruition, which is pretty cool.

So, let's see...1st things first, radio survivor. After nearly two years at Tango/GeoTraffic Network, I finally left when the place I really wanted to work and end my career at had something open up.

It's like this: I am Morning Desk Anchor for the Radio Pennsylvania Network, which means you hear me delivering the updates in the AM drive our network of stations all across the commonwealth. There's a lot more that goes into it than you can imagine.

I get up at 2 am (boo!), but I get out of there like before 9. That's pretty awesome. The work in itself is involved, and there's steps, and there's a lot to keep your mind on. After some rough spots, I'd like to think I've figured out how to do it and hopefully do it well.

Now to explain...WITF (the NPR/PBS) affiliate in Harrisburg, does own Radio PA, but we are a separate entity. Works well. I'm with the same people I've been around nearly six years, a short ride to work, a building that's nice, equipment that works (and gets fixed if it's not--CONCEPT!)...all good.

This is my last stop in my radio career. I want to end it here. That's it. I've done everything else I set out to do, now I need to do this. And do it right. Work in progress, but I'm getting better at the new job.

I've my hand in at another place which I've often spoken of by talking about Dante, and you can guess where that goes. But it's life.

Now...how about this...I'm gonna need your help here:

Okay, I don't know why that does not get bigger, but no matter.
It's finally happening. "A Moment in the Sun" comes out on March 1, 2016 on Sunbury Press Books. 

Published, by a real publisher. Ain't that some shit?

This will be available on the Sunbury website, and through indie bookshops (wherever you are, they should be able to get this, if they don't have it in stock...that is something I want to see). I'll be trying to get it into stores on the local level, and also I'll try my best to get it into bigger ones.

Our plan is also to do some appearances around this area, and beyond hopefully. I will be signing and also reading, that's the plan anyway as we carry on with some different ways of making this work.

I'll be asking you when the time comes to forward my message that the book is out on social media. Just one time, I think...I want to get this to as many people as I can, because maybe, just maybe...someone will buy it. And read it. And like it. And lend it. And recommend it.

That'd be nice.

I have much more in the can, and I'll be concerned with getting the next one out much later, but it's there. I am still writing. I am writing new things, I've two new manuscripts this year, I have two or three more I need to write, and I have an idea burning for another.

That's how it goes.

Other writing I do...you can find me on BroadwayWorld.com on occasion, writing features and stuff, and I've had some great conversations with people this year. Some of them individuals I've admired and have incredible respect for.

A lot of Skype chats, that is true, but sitting down in an empty theater after a show, and having a long interview/talk with Joe Ely was probably the highlight of my year. Nicest guy.

Not from that date, just a bit earlier in the year. This type of setup, and format. Way cool.

Back to the radio thing...it's well into my fourth year of hosting a program on the London-based Radio-Airwaves Station...you can find us at www.radio-airwaves.co.uk -- always growing and being different, I'm usually on Sundays, hosting The Music Club, from 3:30 ish to 6 pm Eastern.

I had a slight brush just the other day with melanoma...got it off my face, everything's cool, no cancer, none of that.  My health is good...my mind is somewhat settled after quite a bit of turmoil, and I hope to end the year pretty quietly.

And then make one hell of a noise with that book...this is the best thing I've written, maybe not the most creative, but it's a step forward, and we've got to get it done..

I have to get it done. So admittedly I'm not around that much, but this is what I do and I have to do it.

The future is bright, no matter what your situation may tell you. Find yours, go for yours.

As my friend from XM always liked to say, "Let's make it a good one."

Peace, Out.

Writing Essentials, or "How the F**k Do You Write All That?!?"

Greetings, blurkers, bloggers, readers and whomever else comes this way...earlier this week, I was issued an interesting challenge by my fellow writer, Christie Stratos.

Christie is my proofer, and has done excellent work for me on "Parasite Girls" and what MIGHT be my follow-up, "Drifters: Tales of the Southern Cross." More on that later.

So anyway, Christie challenged me to show/tell/explain to you how I write, and what in particular do I have around me when I do so?

Well...first let's see how Christie gets it done:

Okay! There are certainly no hard and fast rules as to how to write, but every writer does have their own little methods, ways, and so forth.

I pretty much write when I want, but when I'm on a writing/editing project, you can find me in certain places. There is no one place for me.

Now, since I don't own a video camera and I'm damned if I know how to use the one on my laptop, I'm going the old-fashioned way. I've taken lots and lots of pictures.

Work tends to make my hours different, so there is no set time you're going to find me at one of these places. I do not particularly like to write at home unless it's at night, and there's reasons for that. Several reasons for that...

First...I was challenged before Neil Young went off on a certain coffee franchise, and now everyone is in a, "WHICH MOTHERFUCKIN' SIDE YOU ON, BITCH?" mode. So you're gonna see pictures of a familiar place. 

As a former girlfriend likes to say: DEAL.

During the day, I'm at one of the places like this one:

This is my standard setup. Generally I will sit at one of the tall chairs, because the tables give me more space to spread my work out.

Note the necessities:

The laptop w/Zombie Snow White gets a lot of compliments and questions. Eye-catching but for that, and not usually what else I need.

My first book, "Parasite Girls" is out for all to see (shameless plug!), along with a flier, and I have business cards...always have business cards, people!

Other items: the ubiquitous jump drive, of which I have several. My entire literary career is on these things; one is stores in a fireproof safe, and I have Dropbox, and who knows how many other backups. Also good to kill off old drives and replace them.

To the right in the 2nd picture is my new external hard drive, a Seagate. Neat little thing, and a gadget I like a lot.

SCREENSAVER.

Pertinent to your work! People must see the SCREENSAVER. This is YOU that you are promoting.

Now, there are a few more things one needs; I generally work in public spots in order to have human contact. A necessity; people-watching is quite good, because character details, ideas, sketches, and especially fashions are useful future tools. It is not unusual for me to make mental snapshots of outfits that fit my characters.

COFFEE. LOTS OF COFFEE.

Since I don't drink anymore, this is my last drug of choice. Iced is how I usually drink it, but dark roast pourover is also good. Lots of cream, and cinnamon. Caffeine fuels the brain...remember that.

MUSIC. AN ABSOLUTE MUST.

I well remember the days of records (do you?), and typewriters (betcha don't). That album side had to get me through a few pages, and often I'd keep going and not get up to change it.

iTunes is good for something. My tastes run the gamut, and often I'll play the music that is working in tandem with my writing. Or it's whatever's on my computer. My desktop has all my rock, blues, Americana, etc., while the laptop has everything else, plus some duplicate stuff.

I have no set music to work to, whatever I feel like usually.

Now...that's away from the house. At home, I have two spots:

This is the Vibe Room. My office, studio, writer's room. The desk is a cluttered mess, from where I occasionally write, DJ, and do other things. You'll note two of my assistants at the left...more on them later.

Other side of the Vibe Room. Music, plus my altar.

Now since I'm weird about the keyboard that came with my desktop, and since Windows 8 has got a bunch of things that leave a lot to be desired, I don't write much with it. I use the laptop for almost all actual typing, writing and so on.

But...in the winter, it's damned cold in this house. So at night I opt for Plan B:

The bed is old but comfortable...you shall also note my assistants. Baldrick is in the foreground of this one, and he usually is close at hand to offer editorial advice. 

Namid also makes herself available to review my notes. Or sleep on them. Her brother Qi is in the background...when he is not offering advice he's usually either sleeping or doing something that causes the bed to feel like it's breaking 10 on the Richter Scale.

Then we have Sofia. This is usually where you will find her, between me and the keyboard.

So I'm certainly not left alone while I work.

Christie had noted she keeps a thesaurus at hand, which is a good idea. 

I keep a severely condensed bookshelf. There were more that I lost some years ago, and I gave away about 250 on Bookcrossing. These are reference materials, inspirations, entertainments, resources and other things.

I also have on my computer a ton of tabs for notes, and also the reference stuff, and Grammarly.com -- well worth the cost, let me tell you.

Well, that's a little look into my essentials for writing. But the main thing is, WRITE.

An old painter friend aptly said: the only way to accomplish anything is to DO IT.

Now...I hope in the very near future to have some big news about the next step in my career. I shall know more soon...but in any case, enjoy your writing. This is not a job, this is what you do.

Enjoy, Peace, Out.

Arrogance, and the Obnoxious Fad that Passes for...

...wait for it...

...wait for it...

...you know where I'm going, right...

Religion.

Yep. I'm headed down a track that is sure to offend some of you, and start a whole new debate. I again have found myself in that position of having to defend my spirituality from someone who is not ready to admit that there's any "god" but their own.

I had a long, and interesting talk yesterday with not one, but two people. I will not use their names, because that's not necessary. But I received two points of view, and have reached my own conclusion about myself.

The first is a fellow who remembered me from several years ago. I'd come to write a piece about his workplace. A decent man, and I feel a good one, really I do. Hadn't seen him in a while, and he's back in town.

He wears his mask well.

The conversation turned to religion. I'll make no bones about what I think of Organized Religion. I defend to death your right to be what you will be, and are. But I draw the line when you use that "faith" to attack others.

I am sure he didn't mean it as such, but I was under attack.

When a person listens, but does not hear, and continually turns and twists words back through his own prism of belief, a tenuous one at best, and continues to attack you, what is that?

It is not the "faith" that a follower of Jesus should do, IMHO. Jesus (whom I now believe was not a real person, but a fabrication) did not walk about the world tub-thumping...but as Gandhi said in paraphrasing, "I like your Christ. I do not like your Christians. They are so unlike your Christ."

I recall my Congregational upbringing, until I was 12. I remember sermons and a church led by two of the finest, kindest men I knew then, and find hard to match. Reverend Hazen, and the man who later replaced him, Reverend Fuqua. Two men who treated every single person with kindness, respect and decency. 

They did NOT attack with religion, they did NOT try to convert you, they did NOT make you feel inferior and try to make you one of them.

What the fuck happened?

Televangelism, electronic media, and a radical savagery of the faith, and it crosses all boundaries.

The discussion with this fellow reminded me of when I was 15. I was under attack by a teacher, and her fellow born-again haters. A hateful, thinly-veiled cynicism and disgust for all that were not like them.

You may be a Christian, but you are not Christian enough. Ever.

I recall feeling bullied, and attacked, and questioned. I wasn't already good enough as a human being for my own family, let alone this!

I am going to tell you what I am. I am Buddhist. I meditate to Kirtan, and I am a Pagan. Our people were here before Christ's creation as a character, and our people's ways were co-opted, borrowed and stolen.

And they have the nerve to try and wipe us off the map.

They have the nerve to massacre 18 million people in Central America, and wipe out the entire native population of Cuba, in the name of "God" of course.

I do not discount the massacre of a million Armenian Christians in the First World War. I do not discount the massacres during the wars in Bosnia. Nor the 13 million Hitler did to death...not just the Jews, but Cossacks, Krimchaks, Russians of all stripes, and those caught up in the occupied territories. Two million or more murdered during the regime of Pol Pot.

Not to say how many Stalin eliminated. Or Mao Tse-Tung wiped out.

And we see what the "Islamic State" is now doing in the Middle East.

What the fuck happened?

What happened to the Good Samaritan I learned of? What happened to the people who showed respect and kindness to others, regardless of what they looked like or where they came from?

When did faith get caught up in patriotism? 

This much I have learned: we cannot change other's minds. We cannot turn others who cling to views that they are fearful of losing. This fellow clearly had his prism, and all thing must pass through it.

I don't think, again, he meant harm. But he would not listen. To him, I am a terrible person, a lost soul, a creature destined for Hell (which does not exist).

And his own self-flagellation is bizarre. A sinner who will never be forgiven, no matter what. A life of existential suffering, and yet...oh yes, he'll be in the Good Land or whatever it's called.

But to suffer that whole way?

Suffering exists. But we do not have to die for it. We can make things better.

I am who I am. I am not perfect, as I'm human. I have tried, believe me I have tried not to hate. I don't believe in it. Hate is too strong, and hate kills.

I don't know of anyone who hates me. I don't know of anyone who despises me. I'm sure some don't like me, but that's fine. 

I do not profess to know great truths. "Jesus he knows me, and He knows I'm right...been talking to Jesus all my life." Genesis, the band...heehee.

No. 

I call bullshit.

I am Me.

I can trust myself to make the right choices.

I can trust myself to be as mindful as I can.

I take responsibility for this, and all things.

I do not agree with a lot of things, and I don't like a lot of things. I stand against a lot of things, especially the mad cults of Organized Religion. If you go there, it is your business and your decision. I do not say you're bad because of it. I hope it is right for you.

THIS is right for me.

There is One Race. The Human Race. We're it, folks.

Let's stop the hating. Let's stop killing. Let's stop feeling so fucking threatened by every little thing.

I'm gonna do my best. Here's hoping you can too.

We don't need to obsess or talk about IT all the time. To do that leads to the tunnel that you will never escape from.

This is a good world, but we each have to make it good. Stop looking for shit to stir. We can make this thing work, folks.

In my writing, I write what I want to see, not what others tell you you are supposed to see. Does that make sense? I hope so.

NOW...that all said, let me tell you about the second person.

Without going to deeply into it, this individual talked to me in an interview about her life, her career, her family, and what she loves doing. We are artists in our own way, and our own right.

This person, younger than me, showed incredible poise, maturity and sense of place. It has nothing to do with religion, and posing, and hiding behind something.

She was There.

Doing what she loved, and knowing the fulfillment to herself, and to others. Not about money. Not about fame. Not about anything but doing what is right for HER.

In her, I see how the madness can end.

I was reminded of why I write, and why I do the things I do. It is right for me.

Be right for you, and don't let others browbeat you, attack you, piss on you. You cannot change them, and you do not need to change for anyone.

Be YOU.

YOU is what is right for you. Change when you need to, and accept the inevitability that it does happen.

I change when I will, not when others dictate it to me.

I go where I will, not when others tell me to.

"An' it harm none, do what ye will."

My sense of place has been restored. I don't know if any of this makes sense, and I'm sure some of you will be stunned by this. 

I hate no one. I have malice toward none. I don't blindly love everyone, but I really hope that as we go on, we can be what we will be, but try and respect the differences.

And the similarities. 

We are all one...we're all we've got, folks.

Peace, Out.