Blog Summary

A blog for poetry, prose, and pop culture.

Wednesday, April 30, 2008

Flash Fiction: The Call

Part 1 (of2)

It had been a long day at work and I was tired. As i walked into my apartment, I found it empty, my roommates still at their jobs or classes. I started my usual post work routines, emptying my pockets onto the night stand and stripping off my work clothes. I threw the whole pile into the hamper and headed for the bathroom to shower. I figured a quick shower would help wash the day I had off me and give me time to get on the computer before my roommates showed up.

As I lathered over the soap, I began to reflect on things that I hadn't really let myself think about too much. It had been 10 days since my mother had ran off with that guy she met on the Internet and things had been hard. My brother had taken a lot of my mom's ill will before she left and Dad fluctuated between sadness and anger at the situation. I turned the water a little hotter, and tried to crowd these thoughts out of my head. It had been rough for all of us, but more so for them. We hadn't seen or heard from her since that day at the airport when Dad and me had confronted them, and the surreal chase that followed before they lost us on the freeway.

After toweling off I brushed my teeth and freshened up. My roommates had mentioned going out for my birthday tonight, I was turning 21 and a little bit of fun may be just what the doctor ordered. After finishing up in the bathroom I headed into my room and turned on my computer. As it booted up I proceeded to get dressed and as I was buttoning up my shirt, I heard my cell phone ring. I didn't recognize the number, but I thought it may be work related so I answered it.


"Hi honey...happy birthday."

It was my mom.

End of Line.

Sunday, April 27, 2008

Word Balloon: Preacher

Hey all,

April's edition of the Word Balloon features another great series from DC Comics Vertigo imprint, Garth Ennis and Steve Dillon's epic tale Preacher. Spanning 66 issues, as well as a small series of one shots as well as a limited series, Preacher is the story of a man, Jesse Custer, who was raised by a horrible Grandmother and his violent backwater cousins to be a man of God. When he is possessed by a supernatural being called Genesis that kills his entire congregation, he is driven by his own sense of right and wrong to begin a journey to literally find "God." Genesis is a being divided by pure good and pure evil, the offspring of an angel and a demon, that gives Jesse the "Word of God," the ability to command people to do what he says.

Driven by his own sense of right and wrong, his journey to find God, (who fled Heaven after the birth of Genesis) he encounters many strange beings and people, such as the patron Saint of Killer (the Angel of Death) the holy organization The Grail, and his own twisted family. Jesse is joined on his journey by his spurned girlfriend Tulip O'Hare and a hard drinking, hard living vampire named Cassidy.

Writer Ennis and artist Dillon take what is a far reaching concept and blend it into a mix of humor, violence, perversion and insight into the relationship of the religious into today's lifestyles that really works. There is a lot of Preacher that is over the top, but the series is balanced by taking a stark look religion and how we view it today. It continues to look at concepts like the preservation of Christ's bloodline, the importance of messiahs, and even looks back at the impact of Vietnam and the battle between liberal and conservative views. Feminism and America's obsession with celebrity also get deconstructed. Other topics such as drug use, immigration, homelessness, and redemption and responsibility also get analyzed. The series is far reaching in it's topics of appeal.

Preacher takes heavy influence from movies, particularly the westerns of John Wayne, John Ford and Clint Eastwood. The Alamo and Monument Valley serve in the story, and Wayne himself is sort of Jesse's spiritual guide, a conscious for Jesse's journey. The Saint of Killers is almost a direct homage to the films and characters of Eastwood and the movie the Wild Bunch. You can also draw reference to books like Holy Blood, Holy Grail, which popularized the idea of Christ having children, which also influenced the Da Vinci Code.

Preacher was the first book that really opened my eyes to the quality of independent publishing, despite being published by DC. Books from its Vertigo imprint really carry a different appeal than any other comic being published. Vertigo says that this book is unlike anything else being made. Preacher, along with books like Neil Gaimen's Sandman, really started the modern trend of what comics could achieve. It is a complex series, that I wholeheartedly recommend. Start out with Volume 1 and 2, Gone to Texas and Until the End of The World. That will be enough to hook you until you move onto volume 3, Proud Americans, where the story gets really good. There are currently 9 volumes in print, including Ancient History, collecting all of the one shots and the Saint of Killers mini series.

Preacher has been optioned for both a television series and a movie, and at last check was headed to HBO as an hour long series, with each issue being 1 episode. It will be a very tough series to adapt that could go either way, though I sincerely hope that Ennis has a hand in keeping it true to the series roots.

Check it out, Garth Ennis and Steve Dillon's magnum opus, Preacher, published by DC Comics/Vertigo.

End of Line.

Saturday, April 26, 2008

Movie Review: Leatherheads

Hey all,

Caught an early matinee yesterday of the George Clooney, Renee Zellweger film Leatherheads. The set up is that Clooney is an aging pro football player trying to keep the game from going under. After his team gets disbanded, he hatches a plan to get college football star and World War 1 hero John Krasinski (Jim from the Office) to go pro early by guaranteeing both him and his agent a huge cut of the gates. Zellweger plays a journalist assigned to Krasinski by a newspaper to fetter out the real story behind his World War 1 heroics. Zellweger is torn by her attraction to both men and by her desire to get the truth. Ultimately, the final game comes down Clooney, and the old ways of playing the game, versus Krasinski and the new rules of legitimized football.

The were elements of this film that I really liked. The overall feel of the movie was very classic, like a film made in the 30's or 40's, taking its time with pace and plotting, the subtle humor mixed with the obvious. It was set in the 1920's and had maintained that world very well. They didn't rush the plot or hammer in any of the details of the movie, they let it develop at it's own pace. Clooney, who doubles as director, was definitely influenced by the films of Cary Grant and Clark Gable and the sort of comedies they made. Krasinski was great too, his character is not the hero that everyone thinks he is, but you still root for him to win, and the wrong actor can really affect how that comes across.

That being said I do think the film ran a little long and dragged in some areas. If you are not a fan of classic films or a die hard Clooney fanatic you may want to wait for DVD. I don't think it ever really captures the heart of the audience though, falling just a bit short straddling the line between comedy, romance and storytelling. It takes a bit of each, but doesn't maximize on any certain one, which for me has the film come up a bit short.

This film is not like most movies in the theatre, it's a throwback movie and I am glad to see more like these made. I can't say it was a great film, but I did like it. Check it out.

End of Line.

Friday, April 25, 2008

Assorted Nuts

Hey all,

I know it's been a few days since my last post, but I wanted to update you on what I have been working on. In about a week's time I am due to host my brother's wedding ceremony. That's a lot of responsibility, especially coming up with material to talk about as the bride and groom don't want anything overtly religious. That being said I have been working towards creating a wedding outline documenting what I want to say and the structure of the wedding to follow so that we have a good idea of what to do.

The couple doesn't want to say a whole lot in the ceremony, so its up to me to fill in the blanks so to speak. They didn't want to read their own vows or light a candle, just simple actions that will take up to 20 to 30 minutes. I am nervous about being able to fill the time, but I am feeling good about what I have written, I may post some excerpts after the wedding next week.

Other than the wedding I have been keeping busy at home, helping Jason with inks on his project when I can (filling blacks, nothing that requires great ability unlike him) plotting out my next flash fiction article, and looking where to go on my next installment of Dead Sun. I did catch Leatherheads, the movie with George Cloony and Renee Zellweger That I will post on this weekend. Also before the end of month I'll post my next word balloon column.

Anyway, I have a lot of excited stuff going on, so stay tuned. Thanks for reading.

End of Line.

Monday, April 21, 2008

Flash Fiction: The Reunion

Chapter 3 (of 3)

I awoke slowly, a slight filter of light creeping through the slat in the blinds. A smile crossed my face as I remembered the night before, the night with Emily. After 10 years of regret, a few simple hours had turned my life around. I rolled over, casting my arm to fall over her sleeping form.

When I found empty sheets, I sat up. Still bleary from the night before, I looked around my room. Her clothes still lay strewn about the room, cast aside in a fervent urgency that both of us had succumbed to. I stood up, pulling a rumpled sheet free from the tangle in the bed and wrapping it around my waist.

I softly crept from my bedroom and into the hallway. My entire body felt alive, feeling the strands of carpet on my feet and the cool breeze of the air condition raising goosebumps on my skin. As I reached the end of the hall I stopped. Caught against the breaking dawn, Emily stood framed in the patio doorway. Clad only in my white dress shirt, the breaking sun framed her in a glow of orange and red. The oversized shirt was nearly translucent in the burgeoning light, casting her body in shadow. I watched silently as she took a drag from a cigarette, her hair rustling softly in the morning current. She never turned around, just staring into the morning, her arm perched on the frame of the door, one foot bent slightly. That picture, Emily aglow in my life, set against the dawn, burned deeply into my heart.

I turned around and walked slowly back to my room, not wanting to break her reverie, not wanting to ruin a perfect moment. I laid down on the bed, pulling the covers against my skin and drifted back off to sleep. I had all the time now, life was perfect.

Later that morning I awoke and read the note she had left for me. We all had regrets she said, and her regret was that I had waited 10 years to tell her something she had always known. I had broken her heart those years past, and now she had broken mine.

End of Line.

Saturday, April 19, 2008

Movie Review: Forgetting Sarah Marshall

Hey all,

Caught Forgetting Sarah Marshall today, the newest comedy from the Judd Apatow team of 40 Year Old Virgin and Superbad fame. It stars Jason Segal, of How I met Your Mother, Kristen Bell of Veronica Mars and Heroes, and Mila Kunis of That 70's Show. It's a pretty simple plot, Segal plays Peter, who is in love with Sarah Marshall, played by Bell, who is a famous TV cop on a Law and Order type show. He does teh music for the series, but is caught off guard when Bell breaks up with him to be with another man, a rock star. Peter is torn apart by the breakup and between unmanly fits of sobbing and failed one night stands, he decided to take a trip to Hawaii to forget Sarah. Unfortunately the hotel he has chosen to stay at is the same one that Sarah is staying at with her boyfriend. Instead of leaving, which would make him look like he's running away, he stays. Eventually he creates a connection with the desk clerk played by Kunis, but when everybodys imperfections come out, he has to decide of he can really forget Sarah Marshall.

Like all of Apatow's movies, this film is a balance of raunchy and heart, that I think does a pretty good job at keeping the humor going, unlike Knocked Up that I felt got a little to heart heavy during the film. Segal is great balancing the crushed boyfriend who was dating out of his league, and as a comedic leading man. Kristen Bell nails the television celebrity who thinks she knows what she wants but who doesn't know. The casting choices were solid and I like that Bell was doing something outside of her normal acting zone. Some of my favorite bits were in the casting of bit parts, like Billy Baldwin and Jason Bateman as Bell's crime partners, who got some great one liners. Also the sub-plot of Segal's character writing a Dracula rock opera was so ridiculous you had to laugh. I will warn you, despite some photographed boobs, you do get some uncomfortable penis shots, made all the funnier by the audience reaction to them. You can hear the collective groan from the audience. Also look for a really funny sub-plot with jack McBrayer of 30 Rock as a man who has trouble consumating his marriage with his voraciuos bride.

There were some areas of opportunity in the film, particularly in the running time. I felt several scenes could have been condensed or eliminated to keep the narrative pace a bit faster. Also while a pretty funny film, I still feel that many of the comedies Apatow have produced need to continue to focus on the comedy and let the heart rise from that, like in 40 Year Old Virgin or Old School, sometimes it can feel a bit forced.

Overall I recommend the film as a pretty funny movie. If you liked any of the previous films I listed from Apatow, you will certainly like this.

End of Line.

Friday, April 18, 2008

Flash Fiction: The Reunion

Chapter 2 (of 3)

Emily and me fell fast into conversation, almost as if 10 years hadn't passed. We talked of college and careers, about the welfare of common friends and our families. She told me of a failed attempt at marriage and even more failed attempts to break into music. I talked of working at a job I was trapped in and my own failed attempts towards becoming a writer. We talked of relationships won and lost, of the places we had been and of the sights we had seen. The best times were the moments of shared laughter or the brief spark of a light touch that came when our hands brushed.

Other people came and talked to us that night, but I only remember Emily. As the evening wore on and we shared drinks, those brief touches became electric the longer they lasted. All those years of pain and heartbreak seemed to melt away when I was with her. We talked of everything, though my thoughts turned dark reflecting on our last meeting together. Recalling the choice I made, my greatest mistake. Though even that thought couldn't last now that I was with her again.

It was easy to fall into that same routine, to fall under the same spell that once held me so completely. Before I was ready, the night had already grown cold and the party had dwindled to just a few stragglers and us. We sat at that table, looking into each other's eyes, quiet for the first time all evening. We stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, neither not knowing what to say. The same as all those yeas ago, when I had chosen to walk away, the words unspoken laying between us. When my courage had failed and I let her walk away without telling her everything. Yet here I was, caught in the same fear that haunted me 10 years ago.

Finally, Emily stood up and peeled her name badge from her chest and let it fall the floor wordlessly. She rounded the table as I stood up, peeling my own name off, flicking the sticker off of my fingers. She at me and held both my hands, drawing me in close, into a kiss that exploded like a thousands suns, sweet and burning, extinguishing all around me. As we pulled apart, I whispered what I had had been to afraid to say those years past.

"I love you Emily."

End of Line.

Thursday, April 17, 2008

Flash Fiction: Under a Dead Sun

Episode 20

Billy stared straight down the barrel of Boon's pistol. Instinctively, Bill ushered Katee slowly behind him, shielding him from Boon. Katee still clutched the old Navy revolver she had picked up from Deke, but Billy slowly slid his pistol back into his holster.

"Take it easy Tom, we gotta stay together."

"FUCK THAT SHIT OATES! Did you see what the fuck just happened? He had his fucking throat ripped out and he got up and tore into that other fucker like those things outside! I'm not letting any of you come at me."

Billy grimaced as he watched Boon circle over by the remains of Barry and crouch down to pick up the scattergun, the whole time never lowering his gaze, or his pistol, from Billy.

"Boothe didn't stop until Barry blew his head out with this scattergun, and that exactly what the fuck I'm gonna do to you. Exceptin' I'm not gonna make the same mistake he did, I'm gonna.."

Before he could finish the sentence, the remains of Barry Crouch, suddenly sunk his teeth in Boon's ankle. Boon screamed letting off a shot that missed Billy by inches. Boon looked down at Barry tearing into his ankle through his long johns and emptied his pistol into Barry's back. The beast jerked with each shot but tore more ferociously after each wound.


Boon tried to maneuver the shotgun into position but before he had a chance there was another shot fired and Boon feel backward, a bullet in his head. Billy looked behind him to see Katee clutching the revolver in both hands, the barrel smoking, with a look of determination on her face. She fired another round into the head of Crouch, his body jolting still in a pool of brain and fluids.

"Get that fuckin' scattergun Oates..."

End of Line.

Assorted Nuts

Hey all,

Thought I would throw in some background on the stuff I am doing this week. I felt like writing some more flash fiction but I didn't want to feel compelled to continue my zombie western saga all the time. I have been a bit influenced by my friend Danny's blog about writing semi-autobiographical stuff in a fictionalized environment. I promise I am by no means done with Under a Dead Sun, I just want to continue to find personal inspiration and satisfaction in what I do and not limit myself to one particular story. Throughout this week I will finish part 2 and 3 of The Reunion as well as Chapter 20 of Dead Sun, so stay tuned. Oh and let me know what you think about the new mini story. I'd love the feedback.

End of Line.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Flash Fiction: The Reunion

Part 1 (of 3)

I arrived at my old high school well after the reunion was in full swing. It had been over 10 years since I stepped on the campus, and very little had changed. Oh some of the buildings looked newer and the paint fresher, but the old under currents were still there. All the old memories came back once I set foot on the grounds, the good times, the bad times, the triumphs.... and the regrets. I walked closer to the gymnasium looking at the tacky decorations and the garish Class of 95 signs adorning the buildings. Our original 10 year reunion had been canceled due to lack of interest, but someone had worked up the idea the reschedule it for this year and apparently enough people had decided to come.

I still wasn't sure what i was doing here. Most of my time in high school had been devoted to getting out of it and moving on in the world. I hadn't exactly been picked on while in school, I just was there, occupying space. Neither important enough to remember, nor lame enough to not be forgotten. The only person from high school I still talked to was my friend Jess, and he sure wasn't coming tonight.

I sighed as I pulled open the door to the gym and walked to the greeters table. One of the classes student body was there handing out name badges. I didn't remember him, even after reading his name card and I guess I didn't strike a bell either, he numbly handed me my red rimmed Hello, My Name Is badge and I scrawled my name on it. He turned and started walking to a girl I recalled being a cheerleader and ignored me. I affixed the badge to my shirt and headed toward my usual gathering point at any party, the wall nearest the drinks table.

I had just poured myself a plastic cup full of lukewarm punch when I saw her. Or rather, heard her. That throaty laugh hadn't changed in 10 years, and I turned toward the sound. I couldn't kid myself after I saw her, I knew the reason I had come, I knew the reason I had returned to this place after all these years. I had come back to see her again.

I tossed the punch back in a single gulp and walked towards her. Whatever jackass she was talking to had turned to greet someone else and I knew this had to be my chance. I came up behind her and said,

"Hello Emily."

She turned around and a smile filled her face. "MIKE!"

Emily threw her arms around me in a hug and at that moment, I knew I could die happy.

End of Line.

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

Flash Fiction: The Reflection

I looked into the mirror at a reflection that was not my own. Had so much time passed that I didn't even recognize the face staring back at me? The lines of age had seeped into the cracks in my skin, the bags under my eyes more pronounced than I remembered. A little darker, a lot fatter, hardly a flicker of the person I used to be.

I splashed another handful of cold water on my face, a poor effort to wash away the years. I watched the water trickle in small rivulets down the creases in my skin amd drop into the waiting sink below. Running my hand though my thinning hairline I was forced to look at yet another facet of my dying youth. The strands of hair cut so much closer to my head than in my younger days, the once dark locks now flecked with wisps of gray.

The dark shadows of stubble that covered my cheeks and the thick mustache that I once so coveted now simply acted as another reminder that shorter days lay ahead. My fingertips brushed the coarse whiskers and I let out a small sigh. Was I still the same person I used to be? Or have I been replaced by the man looking back at me? Was it too late to recapture what I have lost?

Turning from the bathroom I flicked off the light and prepared to get dressed. Another day had come to past, as time not love seems to last. Perhaps today would carry new answers, if not, there was always tomorrow.

End of Line.

Saturday, April 12, 2008

Movie Time: Rewind: The Wild Bunch

Hey all,

April's edition of the rewind will feature another great western, one what many people consider the last of the great westerns, 1969's The Wild Bunch. Starring William Holden, Ernest Borgnine, William Oates, and Robert Ryan, The Wild Bunch is about a bunch of outlaws in the dying days of the old west. The world is turning modern and there is slowly becoming no place for men like them, bandits and thieves living off the land and riding as they please. The times are changing and the west is dying, and no one is safe, and The Wild Bunch look for one last score.

The film, directed by the great Sam Peckinpah, was his ode to the dying of the west. Even John Wayne commented that the movie killed the myth of the old west, and the westerns of the 50's and 60's gave way to the desperation westerns of Clint Eastwood and Sergio Leone, before dying out completely by the 80's. The Wild Bunch is all the Peckinpah is known for, quick edit cuts of the camera, rough fighting men, complex characters who are neither right nor wrong, and the over the top violence that was such a signature of his films.

The movie's plot is pretty simple, William Holden is Pike, and aging leader of a group of outlaws who agree to rob a train of Army weapons for a Mexican general after a failed bank robbery nets them nothing. In the end, it's their conscious and the need of a friend that gets them involved in one of the cinema's bloodiest shootouts in history. Supposedly more blank rounds are fired in this film than were fired in the Mexican revolution of 1914 that the story is loosely based around.

The most famous scene in the movie isn't even in the script. Just a shot of the Wild Bunch walking to help there friend, when everything looks hopeless and you find out what kind of stuff you are made of. In the end the film is a visceral and tough movie that so typified Peckinpah's movies. The Wild Bunch symbolized the dying the west, and its fitting that this is the film that also killed the west for Hollywood.

The Wild Bunch's influence can still be felt today, in directors like Quentin Tarentino and Frank Miller, who use the violence and over the top sensibility to exaggerate effect. I love the Wild Bunch for all these reasons, it one of the best westerns ever made.

End of Line.

Friday, April 11, 2008


Hey all,

With my brother's impending nuptials and the rumor from my Mom that my brother is also an expecting parent with his fiancee 5 weeks pregnant, I have been thinking a lot lately. Though I am really happy that my brother has found what he is looking for, I wonder what it is that I am. I think that everyone has those occasions where they wonder if the choices they have made were the right ones, and if they had made different choices would their life be better...

I don't know what I feel about my life, There are times where I feel pretty good about my life. Though I have never been bursting with friends the ones I have are fiercely loyal and important to me. I have never really been a super social person with strangers anyway, preferring to have a few close knit friends over many acquaintances, a path my brother chose. He doesn't really have any close friends, and that is something I consider myself lucky to have.

A job is like any other thing, both good and bad, and for all the days that I hate going to work, there are the days where I am proud of the ability that I have to do my job and the status of which I am regarded. Just yesterday I sent an employee to a worldwide convention as one of North America's top crew people, and he thanked me so graciously for being an influence on him that it made a lot of the bad days seem better.

What I don't know, and I find to be a continuing frustration, is what to do in my personal life. I don't know how to deal with the pressures of dating, it being so long since I had a date and frankly never really having a girlfriend I don't know what to do anymore, if ever I did. The longer I wait the worse the anxiety is and the worse the anxiety the more I am scared to put myself out there. Then there is other parts of me that wonder if I am even ready for a relationship. It's been me for so long that I don't know if I am ready to put an others needs before my own. Or if I am even capable. Having so much space then having to share that space is frightening sometimes. Though the lure of having someone to relate to of the opposite sex is strong, can someone else feel the way I do about things? I find it very easy to pour my heart out in words and poetry, less so when those feelings are given voice. The things that I feel seem personal, to personal to share when someone is in your face to give you feedback, and possible ridicule. But even then I feel that it is my own anxieties exerting its will over my own common sense. Yet it is so easy to lay bare these truths to an audience that has no face. It's easy to write out these things and post them, I face no consequences in an Internet of anonymity.

When in looking at my brothers life he has so many things that I am supposed to want, a child, a wife pregnant with another, an impending marriage, all things that we are told are the rewards of life. But I don't know that I do want that. I know that I'd like to meet someone, but at 31 is it to late to experience all the things most guys try when they are 16? Dating and fun and all the trappings of youth, at an age when most people want to settle down? I don't think I'm ready to stop having fun and be "grown up." But I'd like to think its not to late to step out of my comfort zone and open the doors I have kept closed for so long. To take the plunge into the unknown, I just may need a push.

Part of me feels like I have missed something in my life, part of me wonders if I am better off for not knowing. People often wonder what the meaning of life is and the purpose of it all. I have always felt that life is a journey, and shit happened along the way. It's in how you deal with life that you find your purpose and how you react to the situations you are in. No one is perfect, but you do the best you can and you will find it returned in kind. Now I wonder if I really did the best I could, because is what I have now good enough for the rest of my life? I don't know, though the better question is do I want to.

End of Line.

Thursday, April 10, 2008

Don't Know What Love Is

Hey all,

I been working oer this poem for a week or so, as part of my commitment to work on at least some other kinds of concepts. I don't know that I really broke new ground, but I think at least in term of subject and rhyming schemes I was different. This poem had a very specific kind of tambour in my head, sort of a lyrical pattern, especially in the last lines of the the rhyming pattern. Anyway I'll be back on tomorrow. Thanks for reading.

Don't Know What Love Is

I don't know what love is,

Something I've forgotten,

Maybe I'll never know again,

What the heart feels when besotted.

Myself just alone now,

No other in comfort,

Time and time again,

All that's left is the same hurt.

Do others feel as I,

Left with no spouse,

Alone in my thoughts,

Coming home to an empty house.

Once full of life,

The vim and the vigor,

Now fallen to dust,

With the pull of a trigger.

Taken from me,

In the prime of her life,

Lost to the darkness,

Goodbye my sweet wife.

I'll remain faithful to you,

In thought and memory,

Haunted by what was,

Heartbroke from cruel tragedy.

I don't know what love is,

I never want to know,

There's no ease in the end,

From broken heart's cruel woe.

End of Line.

Wednesday, April 09, 2008

Flash Fiction: Under a Dead Sun

Episode 19

Billy watched from the balcony as the door to the Hotel burst open and a group of men fled from the building. A few had stopped and opened fire on the creatures, but most headed for the livery. Gun fire erupted through the street as the monsters were ripped apart by the spread of bullets, but most of them hardly slowed.

The men running for the livery encountered a group of the monsters and fired their guns into them. Billy looked at the Sheriff's office as Root darted back in the door, pulling it shut. Billy then watched another man get tore to pieces as the creatures feasted on his entrails. The creatures seem to move faster when blood was spilled, and the men quickly lost the fight. He held his hand to his mouth as he watched the carnage. All of the men who had let the Hotel lay broken and bleeding in the streets, as the monsters set upon their remains. That's when he heard the screams from the Hotel, the screams of women and their cries of terror. Billy stifled a tear if frustration, so much death, how was he going to make a difference against something that didn't die.

That;s when he heard another woman's scream, much closer this time. From down stairs. Katee's scream.

Tuesday, April 08, 2008

Concert Time : Streetlight Manifesto!

Hey all,

Sunday night I got a call from my friend Bill with an invite to go hit up another show. Several months ago when we saw Reel Big Fish and Less Than Jake in concert they had an opening act called Streetlight Manifesto, a band made up of the former lead singer of another ska band called Catch 22. Well, they are on their first headlining tour and Bill really got into them after the last tour. Myself, feeling particularly guilty that I had skipped out of the last show they went to, Guttermouth, agreed to meet up and hit the show.

We got down there no problem to a fairly small show, and I came to a kind of scary realization. I was the oldest mother fucker at the show. I don't think of myself as old per say, though this year I will turn 32. I guess that's not REALLY old, but when you see kids who weren't alive in the 1900's at the show you get to thinking. There were maybe a total of 400 people there, and that's a generous figure. Of those people, maybe 15 had a drinking age bracelet on. To know that these kids think old punk rock is Blink 182 is kind of depressing. I was seeing shows when some of these kids weren't born yet, or the teenage ones that were only 6 or 7 when i was hitting shows. I mean there were seriously 8 and 9 year old kids at the show!

Anyway despite the age difference, I still had a lot of fun. The opening acts of the show was an acoustic singer named Daniel P., and I pretty much hated what he was singing about. I found it kind of boring and uninspired and it was really weird seeing just 1 guy on a stage that is set up for bands. The second act was a band called Nox, who I have never heard of before. Sort of a rock band with fiddle player added in. The first half of their set wasn't really inspired, but they did turn it on during the second half with a fabulous cover of The Pixies Where Is My Mind, and ended their list with a pretty decent ska song (really the only one they played.)

Streetlight really made up for it with their list. They had a much improved stage presence and a great line up of songs for their act. It probably helps that I have listened to their CD's a bit since their last performance, but their playing really got the small crowd up. Mosh pits and skanking, I even started dancing! I never dance but in the moment we are feeling it and moving it. I recommend trying out their Keasby Nights album is you are into ska music, in my opinion I like that one a bit better than their other Everything Goes Numb. There aren't many bands making ska anymore, but I enjoy the genre a lot and fast catchy beats always get me pumped up. Hopefully They will be back along again and we can catch them again.

The only drawback is that I was pretty sore after all that dancing on Monday. Maybe I am getting to old for this shit!

End of Line.

Monday, April 07, 2008

Raise a Pint!

Happy April folks!

Umm, WOW. This may be the longest span I have had since restarting the blog last year that I haven't posted. I feel really bad, posting is something I have committed to but the last two to two and a half weeks have been so packed that I haven't had time for anything. The housework has gotten away from me, the yard work is really out of control, and things are still tight at work. I can actually feel the tension in my shoulders and the bone weary feeling that seems to permeate my being just isn't going away.

The bright side is that I have some good topics for posting over the next few days that I hope to target and I am committing to a posting streak of at least 9 straight days of new material. Last month I went 8 straight days posting so as a sort of "I'm sorry" for the lack of posts I am going to buckle down and get this work done. Part of this is due to my commitment to post at least 15 times in a month, and with seven days already down, I have to get writing.

I ma even get to a new poem that I have been starting to kick around in my mind, but no promises on that, I want my next poem to be different in feel and texture and not stale, retreading what I have said before.

Anyway thanks for your patience and continued support. You should take this day to raise a beer as well, as its the 75th anniversary of Prohibition lifting. CHEERS!

End of Line.