Sweet Dreams Series, Updates, and Inconvenient Realities

Hello, it's been awhile...in fact, quite a while. 

I've as usual been meaning to blog for a long time, but finding the time, making the time and all of that has gone by the way. Finally, after a long period of work, writing, editing and madness I have for once decided to make the fucking time.

There is much to anticipate this summer, and so many things have occurred that I have to figure out just how I'm going to do them all. In line with that come the happenings in our world, close to home and otherwise.

I made a joke recently with my old friend Jim on his birthday about not getting old, to which he replied something about his back. It's true, our bodies are turning into old cars: they're gonna break down, make sounds they're not supposed to, and leak things they shouldn't, but they do.

I have had some nagging issues, but they are really nothing to complain about. When I consider how much pain I really felt almost 25 years ago from an accident that should have killed me, this is nothing.

I'm so trying not to complain about things. I find that little things get me nettled, but that's always been the thing. I try to let that pass, and realize you can't change an awful lot of stuff outside you. You can change yourself if you want.

I again find I have to rethink things. The last thing I want to do is chase money, but you need just enough to get things done. Well, whether it rolls in while I'm alive or helps out the later generations, we'll see.

It's an ego thing...but I would like to see how the world reacts to some of what I'm doing.

So what is going on right now? Well, the good news is that a project that I started writing, and have dealt with on and off for 11 years is coming out this summer.

The Sweet Dreams Series is this crazy story of threads that came together and formed a Gordian knot, or perhaps some kind of non-tie able one. 

https://www.behance.net/gallery/11158157/Sweet-Dreams-Searching-for-Roy-Buchanan-(Ch1-proof)

What you think? Now true, this is not the finished product, just a rough cut. But does that get you interested? I hope so...

When I started writing that story in 2007, I did not know what I'd started, but I can imagine really well. The literary, manga and anime world did not break down the doors, and it won't until this gets out there. There's nothing wrong with considering the possibilities; in fact, I feel you have to, so you don't get blindsided.

So that is gonna be my fourth book, and the third on Brown Posey Press. People have asked how long that is going to run. Well, I wrote five, plus a compendium of sorts. But the arc is going to have to change a lot, and there's going to be an insane amount of work for the next one to make sense due to all the changes in the first.

I think we have a fine trilogy here. And when that's done, I'm going to let Aki and the gang grow up a little more.

Now, that leads me to my resumption of a radio role as...a talk show host.

Fuck me. The last thing I ever wanted to do is be that again. 

The toxic, filth-laden wasteland of talk radio, and I mean political as well as sports talk is, quite plainly, shit. Generations have been programmed to let their heads be filled with everything they don't really need. The shopping mall of the radio dial has become one gigantic gape shot that you don't want any part of.

There's little left that I can stomach. But...I was pleasantly surprised to get an opportunity to actually do something that really does appeal to me.

http://www.blogtalkradio.com/bookspeak

Sunbury Press Books, which is our parent company created the BookSpeak Network, and I host the Brown Posey Press show, primarily for fiction.

Pretty cool; while generally I interview fellow authors on the imprint, I can go off the reservation. I've only done four shows so far, and I'm reading a lot more and prepping to do a full show without commercials.

Now we use phone hookups, so it's kind of a strange, almost analog sound. A friend listened to one of the shows and said it was like someone discovering a forgotten radio, and turning it back on. She found it a very comforting thing. How neat.

So I've interviewed some fine people and authors, and there will be more. I'm really enjoying this. This is the kind of show I can do. Authors talking about their books, about writing, what they read, how they've experienced things...it's actually really thought provoking.

I also have found a paying job...imagine that!

I'm working as a mentor for a gentleman who is in broadcasting school. He is a little older than me, and originally from Kenya. His goal is to return to his homeland and work as a talk show host. The power of radio over there is still king. 

He's got most of the tools, but he just needs some technical help, and practice. I've never done this before; I feel I can really help him. This is a nice give-back to an industry that needs people, still.

Now, we gotta hit the realities...our bodies are growing old, but our minds need not. These things I do keep my brain stretched, so I can write again and more, and further along.

I got a great opportunity last weekend to see an old friend. Kelly is a person I met 30 years ago in Northern NH. I was just explaining this experience to a friend, so I'll leave it this way: we were friends, lovers, and a lot of things for four years when it all blew up.

Fault is not one-sided, but we've long since forgiven one another for our doings. She did what I did, jobbed about the radio world, worked like hell, and has found a lot more.

We hadn't seen each other in 26 years, and I'm amazed and impressed by her. We both had things to work through, and we each had to do them. I'm still working on mine, but that's a lifelong deal.

That's the good one.

The passing of Anthony Bourdain is something I have to touch on. There was a recent suicide of a lady that shocked a lot of people, a designer that I am sorry to say I know little about.

I didn't know much about Bourdain; I'd only seen his TV show once, and there's a lot of love/hate flying about the man. He was loud, outspoken, and ruffled feathers. My kinda guy. 

He did a lot of good, though; he took us places, and tried food everywhere. Travel, he counseled us, travel; I need to follow that example.

His suicide shocked everyone. What could have happened? No one can say, but there's been a real re-ignition of the talk about suicide.

As someone who planned his own 30+ years ago, I can tell you a few things, but each person's reasons are different.

I wrote about this in Parasite Girls, my first book; and it looms in A Moment in the Sun, my second. Didn't plan that, but these things come about.

In the first, a character notes that a person is in the dark, so far, that they no longer realize what they are completely doing. The damage, the hurt, the agony, and whatever else influences otherwise rational people to do the irrational.

They may even think they're doing you a favor, by offing themselves. They may think life is no longer worth living; or that they cannot contribute, fit in, or do anything useful any longer, if ever.

The skin they live in must be something they cannot tolerate any longer. Everyone has a reason; the cases are different.

There are no true warning signs, but some say when a person no longer takes joy in the things they should, gives away valued possessions, withdraws, etc., those may be signs.

Hard to say. I never told anyone what was going on inside me, and most had no idea. But I'd also isolated myself enough, that the rare occasion anyone saw something strange, they either didn't get it, or passed it off as something other.

I can't really tell you anything specifics, because each of us are so different. Just this...if someone really reaches out to you, shut up, and listen. And listen critically. It's not about you. It's about them. Let it be them for just a little bit.

That said, I have to note the passing of a dear friend. Dick Huntington left us a couple weeks back. Dick was a lot of things, I can't even begin to document them. 

An author, a poet, a storyteller, a bard (he liked to call himsef), a teacher, so many things. He was in my old band Ahltyrra briefly, and he contributed in a lot of ways to my writing.

He edited and helped me greatly with my skills, way back when Sweet Dreams first went out to the world. He fell in love with the characters, and loved what I was doing with the time travel, the music, the people. Dick also tightened up my horrible writing style, and my awful changes of tense.

Dick served in Vietnam, but never talked about it. Rather, he talked about his time in California, the music scene, his years of living in different places, booking for the Baltimore Blues Society, meeting such incredible musicians. Great moments of his life.

As his health declined, Dick didn't quit. He helped right up to the end, and I feel that he should be seen for all the good he did, and yeah, he did a lot. I'm not going to toss off the difficult side of him, and that yes, he did piss some folks off.

But I ain't perfect, either, and don't I know it.

I'm sorry Dick did not live in his body to see the book make its way out, but wherever he is, I'm sure he'll see it, and have a lot to say about it!

RIP, brother, love you as you did me.

Well...time to move on here. Thanks for reading.

50...among other things...

Well, here we are...to borrow a phrase, "So Anyway..."

I have hit the Big 5-Oh. Needless to say, I'm appreciative of the fact that I'm still alive, and by all rights should not even be sitting here writing this. I don't need to go into the gory details of what happened to me 22 years ago, and what left me torn apart inside, minus half of my body's blood, and looking like a death camp survivor. Not to mention two years of really getting my life and health back. You get the picture, I think.

I have a lot to look back upon, and I'm amazed that a half-century has come, but I don't see it as gone so much. This has been quite a journey, and I do not plan to have any end to it for a while.

Longevity runs in the family for the most part, and so I think I have got about 25 more left before this body finally gives up and sends me off. It's been alright; I've made a lot of mistakes, said and done a lot of stupid things, but I'd like to think I have learned enough to be able to say, "Okay, now let's move on."

So where are we now? Well, I have nothing to be sad for or complain about. Despite my ongoing depression issues, and the Black Dog that does tend to rear its vile head in numerous ways, I can say I've won a fair number of those fights.

Look at this: my second book, "A Moment in the Sun" is coming out later this month (I hope). I have written furiously over the past eight years. My 20th (I think) novel, "Live from the Cafe" is almost in the can, and I am working toward the hope of a good relationship with my publisher, Sunbury Press Books. The vision I have for these works could have the psychedelic mishmash of Gabriel Garcia Marquez, with a fair amount of Hunter Thompson. Gotta think of these things, or you will get nailed by them.

I have a 31-year broadcasting career, and I don't plan to retire (again). Tomorrow, I officially go full-time with WITF, Inc. as the Morning Desk Anchor for the Radio Pennsylvania Network. After 5-1/2 years of puttering about the radio, tv and network sides, I'm getting my spot. I don't plan to leave it.

After six years of struggling w/numerous part-time jobs, trying to find a real one (hah!) and writing maniacally all through it, here is where we are now. I have settled a bit; my health is at its best, and I am hopeful now to find the time to finish up everything I am meant to do.

I also have more than 3 years with Radio-Airwaves Station; the UK Internet place where I can play the music I like, and sound like me, and not that horrific creature that sounded like he did numerous lines of coke before opening the mic, standing back and screaming! What the fuck was radio thinking?

We are survivors; there are a few of us left in this business, who give a shit. We do it right. We don't think about our fucking egos, and we don't think about what's going to get us to the network, or in that individual's pants we fancy. Being a part of this is what we do.

And this is what I fucking do.

I admit, I am not normal. I do suffer from mental issues, but I am happy to say I no longer am on medication, and I don't need it. Yes, I do have issues from time to time, but I work on it. 

The best years are coming for me. I may not be married any longer or have kids, but I wasn't meant for that. No offense to Kaitryth; I don't regret one moment of our marriage because it was good, we did our best and I think we both learned an awful lot about each of us, and ourselves.

Add to it, no one gave us more than a year, heh. We beat that.

I'm alive. Last night, I was having those problems again, but somehow I got out of it. I realized I have matured.

"I'M NOT MATURE, I'M JUST DERELICT!" -- thank you, Ray High (from Psychoderelict).

Anyway...it's been one hell of a ride. I've done a lot more than most of us, and I'm not finished. I have a lot of writing to do, music to play, news to deliver, and I plan to live the rest of my life.

So, rhetoric aside: I do not think of 50 years lived, or wasted, or this, or that. I've long given up thinking about stacking up the things society says you're supposed to have by now. I am not in the mood of wanting more, demanding more or trying to take from someone else what isn't mine. What fucking difference does it make?

We do have to make our own way, and I think I've done well enough. It's been a varied life, and as I say, not done yet.

I'm enjoying my half-century. No, I'm not accepting my AARP card, thank you all the same.

I'm not going to be an old fart. I'm not going to sit around and bitch and moan about the good old days, because you know what? They might just be coming. I really think the best years are not here yet. We have a lot to do in this world, and we have to do for ourselves, and hope that the example rubs off.

I said this about my writing: I hope that it at least entertains. I hope that it makes readers think. I hope that it inspires them, but not in a religious way, because that is not my intent. More....look at the weird shit I put my characters through (my own life, and others). You get through that, you can get through anything. 

I should have been dead years ago. I don't thank deities for it, but I do think the life force that rules the universe may have helped a little. We are getting it done. I am getting it done. 

We all will.

Namaste.

Parasite Girls, Time the Healer, Sylvia Plath...and the Point of it All...

I am not ashamed to tell you that right now I am in a holding pattern, partly of my own doing. One of the unfortunate results of that is finding myself stuck, and l fear leaving others in the lurch. It's not something I am happy about.

Without ever saying it, my late father by example did his best to keep his word on things. We all learned that, and for that reason I sometimes find it very hard to promise things to others. Because I have no idea in about 50% of the cases whether or not I can actually follow through.

It's easy in some ways--people need me to cover the, I'm there. That's because I need the money, but also because I do actually enjoy the dying industry I live in.

That plus a series of incidents and issues has led me to once again find myself on the edge of a pit that I do not wish to fall into again. It's pretty bad when you don't sleep properly (the worst thing for whatever my brand of depression is!), and then awaken to find it's fucking 12 Noon.

Lovely. So much to do, no time to do it in. And yet that may well also be an illusion I've allowed to manifest.

So, where are we? August 1st, and I wish to know where I am, still. I've had a few friends ask me about my work, and what's going on there. Well, suffice to say I've been cruising through cyberspace for the past 12+ months on the job hunt, and yes, also looking outside the broadcast realms. Couple of interesting interviews did take place, so I am encouraged.

Of course, it means...moving. The days of being able to drive to my job are no longer, and that means for me pulling up stakes. I am aware this is something I will have to do; there is nothing left for me to do in Pennsylvania, and I think a change of scenery is what I need. I need it, badly.

I feel sorry that I have not been able to commit to things, musically. That leaves one person hanging, but thankfully he's using his mad skills with another project, and I hope for their success. Add to that: here in York, I give respect and props to friends who have produced really awesome music. Their talent goes way beyond anything I have to offer in that line. My job as a DJ is to help them get some kind of attention, which is well deserved.

That has been my role. To push, promote, and let others know who's really out there. I guess I tried to push myself into that hole and I think I'm alright, but not what works. Not now.

Let me get to the next one here...w/o internet service at my house, I've had more hours to read, edit and do stuff in a comparative silence. I have to admit, I like that. What it has done is allow me to examine things a little more closely, than I normally would do.

The net is our TV, isn't it? We watch it, read from it, and get all obsessed over what's on it. I'm not going to go on a rant about how awful it is, because that is pointless. Nothing is ever good enough for some people, and nothing will ever fit their pigeonholed respectability whateveritis. Do what you gotta, folks.

Sylvia Plath's unabridged journals are a very slow, heavy read. I'm basically reading her diaries. And again, these have to be taken in a very small bit at a time. Her word use, big words, some kind of education none of us could possibly get today...let those elitist little "exceptional" brats (and especially their voyeuristic parents) have a go at THIS!

What I get out of it, though is that Plath suffered from the same issues a lot of us do. She suffered losses, went through all the turmoil any human being did, but felt it so much more intensely. She was human; you see her struggling in the pages with her family, the need to be wanted by another, but also the need to be who she had to be. Sylvia vacillates on her writing, ignores it, comes up with ideas for stories with impossible names for characters, but you wonder where they all went.

She was ahead of her time, in terms of her feminist views, but these were not fully formed, I don't think. She left behind an awful lot for us to consider, though, about ourselves.

So where does that leave me? Well...as I've shamelessly plugged you can find me on Behance.net, and the rough opening of "Parasite Girls" is there. That will come out later this summer, and I do hope very much to see some cover ideas from my artist friend.

I'm already trying to consider the follow-up. I don't know if I should do this, but with down time and "stasis," the word Sylvia uses a lot, I have to do something.

I look back at a lot of my writings from years past--all just waiting to break out, and I realize my style changed. What I have is still good, but not good enough. Nowhere near. I must go back to that. I must bash at it yet again.

So in the meantime, what have I got?

I think "Time the Healer" might be the followup. The rough opening is also on the Behance site. It's longer, but in ebook form it'll not be so bad. I think I can have it ready for 2014. My goal is now to publish one every six months, while still trying to find some method of getting into a real book form.

The cost is not going to be prohibitive, and hardly do I expect my friends to buy everything I write, of course not. But it's got to get out there, and the window is closing.

"Time" also is rather timely...it deals a lot with bullying, and the violence that surrounds it...also what happens when people stick their heads in the sand and pretend it doesn't happen. Not all of this is personal, but enough is and what I have done with it makes it compelling enough for others to wake the fuck up.

The main character is remaking herself (aren't we always doing that?)...without ever seeing the video until today, I now realize what is fitting about this:

"Point of it All" is from the solo album, "Who Killed Amanda Palmer?" I was listening to this recording and others of hers as I put the story together. 

This is where we are. 

I woke up late, and with a mind to go do something I should be doing today, and the feeling of no drive, no energy and no will is horrid to me. Being lazy is not something I enjoy--it comes from years of being told not to be lazy, to be active, to work, and work, and work the fuck some more.

I do not know what it is like to be lazy, even when forced to it. Yet, some must think I am, because they see me sitting in the "Office," banging away on my laptop or staring at it.

My surgery of one month ago does have a hand in this, but I am improving, so you'd think I would feel better about it. I do, but I am finding this world around me a crushing one, that I have to fight off, as I do ongoing depression.

That video above? I've heard and played that song fuck knows how many times. I love it; it's well-written, the piano and the way it was recorded (not sure how from listening to it) and what little instrumentation around that just fits. The video did not depress me, but you feel something, don't you? 

Ain't that some shit?

Resignation as well...what I hope everything to be will NEVER be. I am starting to realize that what I hoped for is not something I think I want, anyway. Because what I wanted will transform out of my hands and into something that it's not. Or...is it because I wish to control it, that I won't let it grow?

Oh. Now that is tough one, isn't it? Perhaps I should let it go, as I have had to go many things, my land up home, my last connections to certain places, and to again look down the open road and see what's there.

And yet I must wait. Wait for things to change, on their own time, but wonder also if I have time, enough for it. Perhaps it is to take these matters more securely in my own hands and say, "Fuck it! I will go NOW!"

Not instant gratification, mind; more just a matter of putting things into action and saying, "Alright, now it's moving--let's see where it goes."

Depression. It is not fun. I do not, as another has said, wish this on even the person who hates me most, if anyone actually does. 

For those who are starting to wonder, believe me I am not considering any kind of drastic measures. I have no interest in creating that kind of mess, because I have learned that to stay is to keep fighting all of it, and to eventually win, because you are still here and you didn't ring the curtain down prematurely.

An old friend very bluntly stated that she didn't think much of those who offed themselves, because they gave up. Well...there are some who would take that way out rather than face the reality of what was before them, true.

Not everyone though--for some cultures, there's still the matter of honor and pride. I understand it, but I don't. We can't fully understand a place we've never been, and never grown up and lived in, can we? But we think we do.

It's noted in "Parasite Girls," that suicide is at times a dark place where if you fall into it...(I'm leaving it blank, you decide for now)...

So what is "the Point of it All?" I don't know. I have a bad habit of using other people's lyrics and songs for inspiration because I don't feel most of what I have written in that line really works. They just don't fit, and I don't find my own lyrics and songs to be that inspirational. They do work in certain ways, but not always.

Just one more step of development I guess.

I'll try a little harder today, to get moving. Sorry if this is a rambling mass of whatever...but this is what you get. You get one draft in my blog, that's all!

"I write reams of this shit every day, haha!" -- John Cale loops that in one of his songs, I love it.

Peace, Out.