Every Day I Write The Book
Robots, rockstars, a grieving parent, 100 Word Songs and my personal adventures as a man surrounded by women prompt a daily spectacle that over a hundred and fifty of you choose to click. Breaks at work, laying by the pool, watching sports, and stretched out on my bed on a saturday morning are how I provide something worth your internet surf. Four hundred and eighty five posts covering two years and three days later, blogging has made me a better writer and person . As Helene rocks her way into your hands and kindles, I’ll keep showing you my soul.
****blogger’s note****
May 23, 2010 I took my wife’s advice and staretd My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog. I decided to recognize it in 100 words through my friend Velvet’s 100 Word challenge. http://www.velvetverbosity.com/ Her word this week was “SPECTACLE” .Thanks for reading, commenting, tweeting, the facebooking, and allowing me into your consciousness. Happy 2, My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog.
Here’s the great Elvis Costello.
Bound For The Floor
Last time with Helene Troy: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/2012/05/03/the-denial-twist/
Helene struggled with the oppressive New York City August heat. Sun bore down on the summitt of her friend Sadie’s Hell’s Kitchen apartment building. Slipper Socks Medium’s band practice had become tiresome. Helene glared at Darcy and Mara who lit fresh cigarettes, drank beer and talked about their plans for later.
“I’m done, girls. We got three songs down and a set list for Thursday’s gig.”
Helene unplugged her guitar. Still gripping the instrument, she walked to the chipped brick edge of the roof and peered over the intersection of 48th Street and 8th Avenue. Sweat pooled over her tired hands. She watched construction workers getting off from work walk into Social Bar. Sadie’s voice carried over her shoulders.
“From up here, this damn city actually looks possible doesn’t it?”
Helene refused to turn around for fear of crying in front of her band mates.
“Sade, this place is two different towns. One’s for the people who are trying to live here and the other one’s for the people like us, who are dying to live here. New York’s going to belong to me if it fucking kills me.”
Car horns bounced off building walls. The whistles of policeman directing afternoon traffic tweeted throughout the warm air. Helene saw a green, yellow and red Nathan’s hot dog cart.
“Come on Sadie. Let’s make those other two pack up our stuff. I’ll get a couple of hot dogs and we can work on the the lyrics we didn’t get to earlier.”
****blogger’s note****
This is a new story episode of my work in progress, The Ballad of Helene troy. You can find the rest of the story, so far, here http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/the-ballad-of-helene-troy/ This 250 words is part of the reworked beginning. It kind of sorta goes with this week’s “Location” writing prompt from Write On Edge – http://writeonedge.com/2012/05/red-writing-hood-location-location-location/
Today’s song is really good. It’s the kind of thing Helene would listen to and play. Local H was an underrated 90s era band with great guitar work and depressing songs. Here’s the riff heavy lyric downer, Bound For The Floor. Perfect for this installment.
Violet
Last time with Soul To Body: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/2012/05/17/tighten-up/
Mallory’s eyes never left Jake as she walked away from their long kiss and unlocked her car. Jake alternated between the wild abandon of tasting a woman other than his late wife, Camille, and feeling like the circumstances were wrong. He ignored the questions in his mind about Mallory and mingled with the adrenaline his body was pumping.
The smell of blooming Georgia dogwoods relaxed Jake until his cell phone played the Hole song Violet. It signaled that his sixteen-year-old daughter was calling. He leaned against his black Chevy Blazer and stared at kudzu creeping up a nearby utility pole.
“Hi Vi, how’s school so far today?”
The first three seconds of silence were ominous. Violet was only quiet when she was angry or sad.
“Dad, you’re not at work. I called there first because you always tell me to call your work before calling your cell phone.”
Jake thought about telling her about meeting with Mallory but he was feeling too good about himself. The beeping horns of midday Atlanta traffic weren’t allowing for an alibi.
“Baby, I went to grab something to drink.”
Violet huffed and Jake felt his chest tighten.
“Dad, its early release today because of exams. I’m at home. So, should I guess what you’re really doing.”
Jake turned away from the greenery of the Starbucks parking and wiped a the thick film of pollen off his driver’s side door handle.
“Violet, I don’t have to tell you every move I make. But, I met with Mallory. “
He opened the SUV’s door and the heat from inside hit him with a suffocating intensity. Violet’s crying over a wild, eerie silence burned him further.
“This totally sucks, dad! It sucks! I’m going to Davey’s!”
Jake’s fingertips on his right hand singed from the heated metal of the ignition as he cranked the car. Pollen fell on the windshield. He swallowed hard.
“No, you’re not Vi! I’ll call work and come home!”
Violet ended the call. Jake punched the dashboard.
****blogger’s note****
This is a new story episode of Soul To Body. You can find the rest of the story, so far, here: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/soul-to-body/ It is also a response to the “Wild” one word prompt from Trifecta Writing’s weekly 333 word challenge http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/ I used it twice.
Today’s song is obvious. Hole’s Violet fits the mood and gives us a chance to bask in Violet’s teenage angst and anguish. Here’s some 90s grunge:
100 Word Song – Within Me
Nearly 20 entries for The Beatles Revolution including a few new people. Leeroy is impressed with your spirit and talent. There’s always a let down after a revolution. That euphoric feeling as change sweeps through means that you’re emotionally spent and destined for a moment of darkness. So today’s 100 words is perfect. It’s World Goth Day.
Frelle has stepped up to provide this week’s song pick. I don’t even think she saw the calendar. But her Liam and Caera story is full of angst and dark emotional places to go. I love it. Here’s her 100 from las week: http://mademorebeautiful.com/2012/05/21/how-much-longer/ She even used Evanescence in her post. This girl knows how to theme. Her choice is Within Me by Lacuna Coil, an Italian goth rock band with two lead singers. Plenty of inspiration there.
I went back into my archives of Millicent, the Cinnamon Girl serial poisoner for my 100. This little scene didn’t make the cut when I edited my Cinnamon Girl short story. http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/cinnamon-girl/ This happens before her perp walk when she goes to jail for three murders.
Millicent swept the tiny brush through her black eyelashes one more time before getting dressed. She sat naked, with perfect posture and and frowned at her reflection.
“Dad was right. This world doesn’t understand genius. “
She studied the two off-white capsules displayed several feet away.
“I should take them. That’s better than going to jail.”
Millicent stood, regained her pride, and walked to the bed that displayed her black bra, panties, and dress. As she put them on, the frantic murmurs of her lawyer and bodyguard made her smile.
“I’m not taking those pills. This dark, unforgiving world needs me.”
As always, anything you need to know about 100 word song is located here: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/100-word-song/ You have until next Tuesday, May 29th, at 7pm to write your 100 word song interpretation. Get your Goth on today and stare into the abyss that is the darkness. Here’s Lacuna Coil’s Within Me.
Pictures Of You
It was a little after one in the afternoon on a sunny saturday and my kids were playing chicken in the pool. My two youngest daughters were on the shoulders on their oldest sister and her friend who is a boy.
The moment seemed innocuous but with the sunlight showing their smiles, the teenagers actually paying attention to the younger ones, and my phone in my hand tweeting about some ballgame, I felt compelled to snap a photo. What I beyond the smiles was the candidness of everyone involved. My daughters and their friend had no clue I was shooting a picture. The sincerity of the moment meant everything. Its photographs like that one that I find the most interesting.
I’m the least photogenic person I know. The camera not only adds ten pounds with me, but also 10 aging lines in my face, and exposing every flaw in I possess. When I started on social media in 2006, MySpace, I shuddered at having to put pictures online. We’re all judgemental. I saw the duckfaces, overly planned poses, and the wannabe models advertising their “best” look. I’ve taken maybe three good pictures in my life. At the time, I couldn’t track down my high school football photo so I tried the most cheesy “superhero” pose I could muster.
I’m envious of the gorgeous candid shots of people I see on twitter profiles, the Facebook albums, and blogs. I wish I could hire Annie Leibowitz to follow me around and wait for me to eat a cheeseburger in the sexiest fashion and shoot it for posterity.
This is one of my favorite pictures my family has ever taken.
There’s a lot going on here. It seems that me, my oldest daughter, Tay, and her mom, the Bobina are in crisis. Everyone appears miserable. The truth? This was us in a nutshell. Sixty seconds earlier we were happy, laughing, and enjoying a birthday party. Then, Tay, only 13 at the time because this picture is 3 years old, got into a small tiff with her mother and I over something ridiculous. Life with a teenage girl is like that. Her mom is flustered, I’m trying to avoid eye contact until the mood lifts and Tay is likely plotting her escape. Thirty seconds after the snapshot we were happy and laughing again. This picture is perfectly authentic. It was a moment in time and brutally honest. Here’s another favorite, again, about 3 years ago, when the girls walked into the ocean together unannounced. This one screams something.
If The Twitter and The Facebook really wanted to be interesting, they’d require that 90 percent of all photos posted be natural and poses be damned. We’d really get to know each other, then, wouldn’t we?
Now, if you can excuse me, I have to get my daily minumum low-level social media stalking in before bed.
Toady’s song was easy. I almost when with Elliot Smith’s Pictures of Me but since only six of you know who he is, I decided to play The Cure’s Pictures of You.
All My Life
Last time with Helene Troy: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/2012/05/15/100-word-song-revolution/
Helene felt the ink residue of a fresh Village Voice newspaper while Sadie and Mara peered over her shoulders. Helene fought a smile while reading their concert review.
“Last night, for a CD release party at The Greek Rock Club, The Golden Apples gifted the capacity crowd. Her name is Helene Troy. Amid tosses of wavy brown hair, guitar virtuosity, and an unforgettable stage presence, the stunning twenty-four year old leader of the female trio, Slipper Socks Medium, stole the show.”
Helene knew the fragile egos surrounding her. She threw her arms around both women then smiled behind their backs.
***blogger’s note***
This is a new story episode of The Ballad of Helene Troy. You can find the rest of the story, so far, here: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/the-ballad-of-helene-troy/ This is my 100 word response to Velvet Verbosity’s “Fragile” - http://www.velvetverbosity.com/
Today’s song is what was playing my head and in my computer, err, Helene’s head, as I edited this. Here’s Foo Fighters All My Life. Play it loud.
Tighten Up
Last time on Soul To Body: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/2012/05/02/youcantcountonme/
Jake waited for Mallory outside Starbucks. The warm air and light breeze felt familiar. He closed his eyes and let the memory wash over him.
“Jake, this moment is perfect.”
Camille threw her arms around his neck and brought him into her lips for a long, passionate kiss in the parking lot of the Atlanta airport. He bumped the back door of his green Jeep closed as their mouths engulfed each others. She pulled away and they exchanged wide smiles.
“Yeah, Camille, this weather’s amazing. I’ll take the tops off for our ride.”
She tossed her bouncy blonde hair and laughed. He peaked at the white g-string sneaking out of the back of her blue jean shorts as she reached for her backpack.
“No, Jake, I meant this moment in our lives. We’re free, loose and in love. We could go anywhere, do anythin’, be anyone we want. Isn’t is excitin’?”
Camille’s easy southern drawl made him melt.
He opened his eyes to the sound of Mallory dropping her keys on the sidewalk. They leaned down at the same time, bumping heads. Mallory fell back on her rear end. Her bag flew off her right arm. Its contents scattered over the concrete.
“Mallory, I’m sorry.”
Jake gathered makeup and a date book. He reached for what looked like a pill bottle. Mallory shouted.
“No, don’t!”
The togetherness she’d shown through before was replaced by a nervous negative energy. Her face tightened. Jake squinted at the medicine container as Mallory shoved in her bag. He saw at least two Xs in the name.
“It’s okay, Mallory. You don’t need to worry.”
She finished putting her handbag together. Mallory ran her shaky hands through her long red hair.
“I apologize Jake, I get flustered around you and I wanted to…..”
Mallory looked defeated. Jake knew he had the opportunity to walk away and go home to his daughter. Yet, he ignored instinct to make her feel better.
“I know what you wanted.”
He stepped toward her. Their faces were inches apart. Jake ran the backs of the fingers on his right hand through her hair and down the right side of her blushing face. Mallory closed her eyes and Jake kissed her thin lips. It was awkward as their mouths searched for each other. He squeezed her face and tried to fight the previous memory of so many years earlier in the airport parking lot. This one, outside Starbucks, would have to do, for now.
****blogger’s note****
After a two week break, this is a new story episode of Soul To Body. You can find the rest of the story, so far, here: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/soul-to-body/ This is also in response to Write On Edge’s Choice and Consequences prompt: http://writeonedge.com/2012/05/red-writing-hood-choice-and-consequences/ Obviously Jake makes a choice to follow through with Mallory.
Today’s song works great lyrically and thematically. Plus I just want to play The Black Keys. Here’s Tighten Up.
Remedy
Before you read this you HAVE to read this: http://thinspiralnotebook.wordpress.com/2012/05/16/let-it-go-to-voice-mail/
Annoying specks of silver lint on the jacket of her black Armani pants suit distracted Millicent Stingley from her task. She picked the pieces and wiped in a tissue that she tossed in a dark green trash can by the bathroom. Three feet away, splayed over the middle of the hotel suite’s king sized bed, her poison victim became unconscious. A grey Walther p22 slipped from Pauley’s limp right hand. Confident she was safe from trouble, Millicent pulled back the syringe plunger and injected medicine into an intravenous tube hanging over the bed that would eventually find Pauley’s helpless left arm.
Millicent dropped the syringe in her Prada handbag. She pulled out a copy of Vogue and sat in a padded red and green chair crossing her long legs. Several minutes passed while she read an article on Kate Winslet. Pauley woke with a gasp. Millicent leaped toward the bed and pulled Pauley’s gun away from her flopping right hand.
“Calm down Pauley. The antidote acts smoother if you breathe in a relaxed fashion. You can use your gun in a couple of hours.”
Pauley’s glossy-eyed stare showed she was far from over her cyanide episode. Millicent placed the gun on top of her bag and sat back in the chair, determined to finish the Winslet profile. Pauley whispered to her peculiar nursemaid.
“Who are you?”
Millicent sighed and closed her magazine. She got up and checked the tube in Pauley’s arm. Her pinkish skin was turning back to a normal light beige.
“The sodium nitrite and thiosulfate cocktail I gave you is neutralizing the toxin. But, if I were you, I’d find a tanning salon to make your skin more presentable.”
Pauley furrowed her brow and craned her neck looking for her gun. Millicent rolled her eyes and extended her right hand.
“I’m Millicent Stingley. Your boss contacted me. You’re lucky I was in New York for a chemist’s conference or the glass of cyanide Merlot you drank would have killed you.”
*****blogger’s note****
This is a special event. My writing friend Tara, pronounced Tar rah, from Thin Spiral Notebook http://thinspiralnotebook.wordpress.com/ and I teamed up my serial killer “Cinnamon Girl” http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/cinnamon-girl/ Millicent with her assassin Pauley. These posts are for Trifecta Writing’s “Trouble” prompt http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/
Today’s song is from Seether. Here’s the rockin’ Remedy:
100 Word Song – Revolution
I know every week I say that we’ve had the greatest, most creative, bestest one ever of all-time. But this time I really mean it. The entries for Tracy Chapman’s Telling Stories were tremendous. Marian, Cam, t, frelle, Tara, Vic, so many of you went above and beyond the pale with creative takes that required a lot of thought and editing. My favorite belonged to my longtime friend Barbara of The Purple Moose Gazette. She lives in another country, Alaska. Since she has to share space with Sarah Palin and she can see Russia from her house, writing is a heck of a great way to manage her stress. Barbara and I have been doing these 100 word deals with www.velvelverbosity.com for almost two years. Her writing is terrific. Her 100 word song : http://purplemoose.kenaiwriter.net/2012/05/09/telling-stories/ was cute, poignant and very deep. I couldn’t stop reading. I asked her to pick this week’s tune and since Barbara is a touch older than me, I wondered if we’d recognize the decade. She chose The Beatles’ Revolution. Our souls will be saved this week. Please go see The Purple Moose Gazette. It’s a great place.
Everything you need to know about 100 word song is located here: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/100-word-song/
You have seven days from right now to play Revolution. Another song will be posted at 7pm Atlanta, Georgia time next Tuesday.
We check in with Helene Troy for my 100.
A peanut butter bagel and two more aspirin staved off her hangover. Helene shuffled into the Soho loft flanked by her bandmates. She expected trouble after her drunkedn behavior the previous night.
“So, let me have it.”
The manager sat behind a small wooden desk studying his laptop. Helene could feel Sadie and Mara creep behind her like scared children. She chewed on her left cheek while approaching him. The manager grinned while handing a Village Voice newspaper to Helene.
“Read the headline.”
Helene’s sharp green eyes couldn’t contain her surprise.
“The Helene Troy Revolution Has Begun, Count Us In!”
Your 100 Word Song for this week is from Barbara at The Purple Moose Gazette. Here’s The Beatles’ Revolution:
Three Marlenas
I’ve been lying to all of you. I don’t have three daughters. I have six. My sixteen-year-old, eight-year-old and seven-year-old girls are two-faces, just like this guy, The Dark Knight’s Harvey Dent.
I met my wife four years ago, today, May 13, 2008. What followed over the next six months was a whirlwind in every sense of the word. We started a relationship immediately. My daughter met her two daughters. We told their three respective other families that we were getting married in November. Then we all started living together and created our blended family. It was the kids idea to not use the “step” word. The only steps in our house go upstairs to their bedrooms. While my wife and I expected after-school special like melodrama, what happened was something a lot more realistic. The girls adapted. They kind of settled whatever issues that were out there, on their own. As a result, they spun off completely separate personalities when they were with their other families and, as we’re being told, as their schools.
Our house, and how my wife and three daughters interact with each other, is an adventure. We’re loud, funny, obnoxious, caring, loving, dramatic, and talkative. Good grief do we talk. But when the girls are away from us, they seem to act different. My teenager is quiet, withdrawn, and extremely shy out of our sight. The middle girl, a tomboy, ass kicker, and get in the dirt fun-loving girl with us is borderline girly and much more reserved and sweet away from us. The youngest, a loud, funny, one of kind personality who basically runs our house with her attitude is sweet, demure, angelic when not in our company.
Getting the girls to talk about their lives away from us in an exercise in futility. They just prefer to keep that business away from our business. I brought our middle daughter home last Thursday after several days away. She was wearing pretty hairbows and a skirt. We quizzed her on what the heck she was doing in a skirt. She brushed us off and by the time she left us she had dirty fingernails, dirty socks, and her hair was flowing wildly waiting for her next good time.
Most of my the interaction my wife and I have with other blended families comes from the internets. I’m not sure if my girls two-face ways are normal. I do know they like it that way. Each of them frowns and gets very quiet when they leave us. I’m not sure if that’s their way of letting their mom and I know they’ll miss us or if its them going into survival mode personality to be with their others.
AS my wife and I negotiate how to recognize the day we met because it falls on Mother’s Day, a pay period that sees us broke, and while our kids have something school oriented everyday we have to be available for, I’m struck with wonder about how my girls feel about our four years together. I made sure the teenager had her newest flavored Doritos (why must they have 327 types? Is that necessary), my seven-year-old got to lay down with her mom at bedtime, and my wife was happy. I just hope that we continue to grow together. I’m anxious to hear how those of you in blended families deal with your kids’ attitudes and personalities.
I used to think Three Marlenas by The Wallflowers was about a guy in love with a bad girl who wouldn’t settle down. Then I started to interpret it as a girl who has three sides to her personality to get by in a complicated life. None of my daughters are named Marlena. But I bet they can relate to this song. Here’s The Wallflowers.
