100 Word Song – Cup Of Coffee


I’m living in an alternate dimension right now, teetering on mental breakdown because of real world wildness of my oldest daughter moving into college tomorrow and my real job, outside of the blog, book writing and Lefty Pop (www.leftypop.com), becoming overwhelming. I apologize for the lateness of this week’s 100 word song.

My writing friend, Valerie The Word Pirate of http://thewordpirate.wordpress.com/ selected this week’s tune, Cup Of Coffee by Garbage. My 100 will be connected to Velvet Verbosity’s 100 word prompt, Wharf, as well http://www.velvetverbosity.com/.

Back to Silas in the garage, now unarmed and vulnerable.

Last time: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/2014/08/12/100-word-song-worrisome-heart/

“Silas, pick up the money and the gun. They’re yours.”
Archie held back Roscoe and Kenny, who stared in amazement.
Silas kept his eyes on all 3 men, scooped up the cash and gun, holding it down to the garage floor. He spoke.
“I know how to end this.”
Roscoe yelled.
“Yeah, we kick the shi…!”
Archie pushed him then motioned for Silas to continue.
“I have Bart’s stash, all of it.”
Archie shook his head at Roscoe, who growled.
“Meet at Tampa wharf in 2 hours. I’ll give you 3 grand, then you put a million miles between us.”

My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog

You have six days from NOW, to write 100 words inspired by Valerie’s pick of Garbage’s Cup Of Coffee. Use the media that are social to advertise you magic, then link up with the green mr.linky button at the bottom.

Freeze Frame


I don’t usually hitchhike on bandwagons, but this one rides smooth, gets good gas mileage, and possibly ends at an amazing destination.

A friend asked me to take part in the internet phenomenon, The Ice Bucket Challenge, to raise awareness and money for the horrible illness Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), more commonly known as to as “Lou Gehrig’s Disease“.

It took the life of a family member and has stricken the lives of people I know. So, I loaded up a kitchen pot full of ice water, fetched my teenaged daughter as an assistant and gave my wife my iPhone to shoot the results.

This is connected to the writing prompt, “phenomenon”, at http://www.velvetverbosity.com.

Today’s song is from the J. Geils band. I couldn’t pull the trigger on Foreigner, Madonna, Vanilla Ice, Slayer or Metallica. This is too good of a cause.

If you would like to donate to ALS, go here: http://t.co/PFA50C9Pxa – MJsArmy.org

Never Said


It is a 20-year-old tale told by a fool, full of drunkenness and pity, signifying something, and when the Facebook friend request popped up I ignored her on instinct. The following message made me grin, wide, but guilt as cargo. My wife sat three feet away on the family living room sofa as I read.

What is the airspeed velocity of a flying monkey?

I remembered. Two decades earlier the person behind the message and I sat on a sad, yellowed couch watching The Simpsons. It was the episode where Mr. Burns unleashes his flying monkeys. We quoted every line, laughed at each joke, and plotted our own entertainment successes that never happened. Against better judgment, I answered.

Fly my pretties! Fly!

I didn’t wait for her response. I shut my laptop and walked into the kitchen to look for a diet soda. I opened the refrigerator, popped the top, and drifted into a memory.

I stood in front of a dirty fridge looking at a twelve pack of beer, a pack of cheese, some condiments and left over pizza. She had followed me into the kitchen, chattering about our plans.

“When we make it as comedy writers and stand ups, we’re never drinking cheap beer from a can.”

I swigged a Natural Light while tossing her one as she leaned against the lime green wall phone with a cord that could stretch into all five rooms; kitchen, bathroom, living room and two bedrooms. She caught it with her left hand and said.

“Tell me your first joke you’re going to do at the open mic tomorrow.”

I frowned at the thought of performing in front of just her. As close as we were, it was a competitive relationship. I didn’t trust her. If she liked my material, she’d downplay her delight. If she didn’t like it, she’s patronize my feelings. I took the bait like a hungry catfish.

“Hey, how’s everyone doing? I just graduated college and my post graduate work is making strangers laugh enough so that the important guy in the back running this place gives me a break and I’ll have my own sitcom by Christmas. So please, for the love of poverty, don’t forget to tip your waitresses. I plan on sweet talking one for a twenty buck loan at the end of the night.”

She drank her beer, then grinned. I fumed.

“What?” I demanded.

She stepped toward me, tossed back another drink, and answered.

“That’s so adorable, you’ll get laughs and get laid by the waitress.”

She patronized me. I knew her so well. I walked past her and looked for the black spiral notebook that contained my best stuff. I felt her hand on my back as I reached the bedroom.

“Who is she?”

The refrigerator door shut and I was back. My wife stood a few feet away with her arms crossed, holding her cell phone with raised eyebrows and a mischievous smile.

“Somebody I used to know from my stand up comedy days. I denied the friend request. answered her message, then walked away. I was going to tell you.”

She met me in front of the fridge and leaned in for a kiss. She brushed away strands of brown but gray-tinged hair from my eyes.

“I know, but I was bad. I looked her up on my phone. She’s not as pretty as me, and it looks like she’s unhappy with her life. If she messages you again, tell me, and I’ll have her killed by the end of  the day.”

We both broke into loud laughter. I composed myself, kissed her, then said.

“You’re the funny one, these days. Maybe I should take you to an open mic.”

I followed her into the living room. We never said anything else, about her, or my life, back then.


100 Word Song – Worrisome Heart


No lead in or exposition, just a song, more Silas and Olive, and a request to go see my sometimes writing partner, Tara aka @Tara_R from http://www.thinspiralnotebook.com. She chose today’s 100 word tune, a jazzy number from Melody Gardot called Worrisome Heart.

Here’s my 100.

Last time: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/2014/08/06/100-word-song-wish-i-could-fly-like-superman/

Silas swallowed, thought about Olive, then his hand shook. His finger was close to the trigger. He dropped it on the ground. Archie smiled. Kenny and Roscoe ran next to him, but Archie stopped them with one sentence.

“I know what it’s like to be surrounded by people with troubling ways and worrisome hearts.”

He stepped toward Silas. The gun was equal distance from both men.

“Everybody wants the short cut get to where they’re going. We’re not like that.”

Silas stared at the money in his other hand, then dropped it to the garage floor, too.

My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog

As always, you have 7 days from NOW, to write 100 words off Melody Gardot’s Worrisome Heart, Use the media that are social to advertise your magic. Also link up to the green Mr. Linky button, below.

The Tears Of A Clown


I thought about what my small part of the world would be like if I wasn’t in it, today. This would be revelation, a cry for help, for someone else, but when you have mental illness, it’s called Monday. Being bi-polar is like this, especially when you cycle into the depression part.

A man whose world was a bit larger because of fame attributed to his grand talent and amazing career did the same, but he followed through, taking his own life. Robin Williams is gone, and it’s because he had a disease of the mind he couldn’t cure with great humor or unique artistic talent.


Williams is listed on several internet sites as being bi-polar. He talked openly about his battle with depression as well as addictions to alcohol and cocaine. Being born in 1951, his disease was called manic depression for decades. He’s known for his rapid fire improvisational skills, ability to turn anything into a hilarious monologue or unforgettable character, and dramatic turns in such films as Good Morning, Vietnam, The Fisher King, Dead Poets Society and Good Will Hunting. The last of which, he won a best supporting actor trophy in 1998.

I don’t know what happened to Robin Williams on his Monday. He obviously had a worse one than I. Sadness is what I feel because his torch of genius has been extinguished. There are so few of them left, geniuses, I mean.

He had a wife and 3 kids, just like me. He had people to talk to and a lot of money to hire others to listen. None of this makes him any better or worse than those of us who don’t have the same resources. If anything, it makes us related, held together by the bond of sickness.

I lost count of how many times I cried today. Traveling into the dark hole of hurt is like that. You want to stay by yourself, so the happy people around you won’t be burdened. This is the worst thing you should do, but I do it a lot.

Robin Williams meant a lot to me, and I admired him, for his talent and his brutal honesty of his troubled mind. He made me laugh, he made me cry, and in a way that few others before him could, he made me cry laughing.

I don’t know what Tuesday is going to be like. Maybe I’ll be better. If not, I hope I’ll talk to those who around for me. Then, I’ll find a Robin Williams movie on Netflix or an old stand up routine on YouTube.

If you connect with any this, try to swim through the darkness and find light. Talk to someone. Start by asking them their favorite Robin Williams movie. Just understand that because I, or you, like Robin Williams, make a joke or two, and seem like the like of the party, deep inside, we’re blue……or worse.

100 Word Song – Wish I Could Fly Like Superman


Sorry for the lateness of this week’s 100 word song. Between work, being featured on my first ever podcast interview, and some Lefty Pop aka http://www.leftypop.com business, it was an overwhelming day. Wait, what? Podcast interview? Oh, yeah. If you do this blogging thing long enough, hit a BlogHer conference and treat people decently, someone will hand you a small snack of internet fame. My writer friend Poppy Marler aka aka @poppyjmarler hit me up in San Jose and asked me to do a Skype interview last Wednesday. It ran today. I wouldn’t shut up and used the phrase “be a whore” professionally. Here’s the link to Poppy and her friends Tammy and Vanita’s site Blogging Betties. They do a great job and were very nice to me. Hope you have 45 minutes.


Today’s 100 word song was chosen by Dawn of The Dawnie Project http://www.thedawnieproject.com/ . She suggested 1979’s Wish I Could fly like Superman by The Kinks.

Last time: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/2014/08/04/between-something-and-nothing/

Silas scanned the garage. He saw nothing that Roscoe, Archie or Kenny could use as a weapon. Archie spoke.

“There’s 300 dollars on the red toolbox to your left. That’s what these two owe you from the deal with Bart and that shiner.”

Silas walked over, then picked up the cash. Kenny and Roscoe took several steps toward him. Archie shouted.


Archie approached.

“I know who you are, Silas Royster, of Daily, Georgia. You’re better than this. But you’ve got fly away like Superman from those two girls.”

Silas pulled the gun and aimed it at Archie.

My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog

As always, you have 7 days to give up 100 words inspired by The Kinks Wish I Could Fly Like Superman. Use the media that are social to advertise you magic and the green Mr. Linky button to link up.

Between Something And Nothing


You’ll see some changes to this space as weeks progress. I learned from my BlogHer trip that I must more organized and focused in what posts here so you can know what to expect and grow along with the content. My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog will be a platform for my serialized fiction, subsequent published books, and other writing. This has always been a writing blog by a writer who likes to write.

Lefty Pop, aka http://www.leftypop.com or @lefty_pop or http://www.facebook.com/leftypop will be the destination for my opinions, politics, and pop culture material. My partner, Linda Roy aka @modmomelleroy of http://www.elleroywashere.com and I are planning some changes there that will feature more video and podcast blogging. We’re very excited about all of this.

I will write about music here, because a) that’s my gimmick b) you can’t stop me.

I’ve neglected my serialized short story, Light Of Day, about Silas and Olive, two 19-year-old lovers on the run in 1989 Florida. It’s coming to an end, sometime in the next two to three months.  So, let’s get on with it. Here’s a new story episode, no prompts or tie ins, just a several hundreds words of the inevitable confrontation.

Last time: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/2014/07/22/100-word-song-best-day-of-my-life/

There was a party of four riding in the Cutlass as Silas drove from The Jade strip club to Finn Brothers Garage. Zola and Olive shared the backseat as Olive changed clothes and chattered about her shift as a waitress among nude dancers and grabby men. Silas drove while a stark disquiet rode shotgun. As he pulled the car to a stop in an alley between the garage, Olive blurted.

“What the hell did you tell him, Zola? He hasn’t looked at me once since I got in the car.”

Silas parked, took the keys from the ignition, and tossed them over his right shoulder. Without turning around he delivered the plan.

“I’m going inside and getting the money. Zola, if they don’t have the two thousand you said they’d have, I’m taking whatever I can get. If something happens, let Olive drive, she knows how jacked up the brakes are on this car. If, I’m not out in five minutes, get the hell out of here.”

He walked past the passenger side window as Olive rolled it down and stuck her head out.

“Honey, I love you, forever, okay?”

The pacing of her words were typical Olive, Silas thought to himself. Quick, deliberate, and with emphasis on forever and okay. Everything he’s learned about her over the past few hours from Zola told him to not answer, keep walking, and perhaps, not come back. He gave in, one more time.

“I love you too, Liv. He felt tears well, so he squeezed his eyes shut and pivoted. By the time he got to the window, Olive was smiling. He leaned in and kissed her, tasting liquor, lipstick, and lies. He put his left hand in the waist of his blue jeans and adjusted the gun so he could draw if necessary.

He walked into the auto body shop, let the metal door slam shut, then looked over the empty bays as the echoes died down. Both Finn Brothers and their cousin, Kenny, stood thirty feet in front of him. None of them were holding money.

Here’s The Ocean Blue with their alternative 1989 hit, Between Something And Nothing.

I wrote two books. They got good reviews. The third one, a sequel to the first, Woman Of Troy, is on the way, very soon.

The Ballad of Helene Troy, an underdog story about a female musician in New York City, and Soul To Body, about an ex-1990s guitar player trying to raise his teenage daughter after the death of his wife, her mother, are available, digitally, on Amazon.com for your kindles, and in paperback from Lulu.com


Why Don’t We Do It In The Road?


I’m on my second marriage. I want this one to work, so we have little tests we give each other. One of them is asking “why don’t we do it in the road?” As long as we exchange smiles, everything is good.

This week’s optional prompt is: Why don’t we do it in the road?

Go ahead and answer that question in a 42-word gargleblaster

It’s Tricky – BlogHer Part 4, The Finale


Last time: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/2014/07/30/through-glass-blogher-part-3/

I started this week’s series of BlogHer 14 posts with a virtual fistbump to those who have to defend “blogging is hard” to people who don’t understand why. So why is this sometimes a painful process and often so misunderstood?

Well, it’s tricky.

I wrote these posts on the plane home from San Francisco. A number two pencil, a yellow spiral notebook, and a couple of diet cokes while my wife watched 4 hours of the Food Network. You know, I did learn “foodies” or food bloggers, yeah, you people are the real freaks. Why y’all didn’t revolt against the BlogHer catering is a testament to your diplomacy and all of you should work for the State Department.

Saturday night was the BlogHer finale. It wasn’t bad. A party was held outside a local hotel. There were porta-pottys and food from McDonald’s. Again, what’s with the catering? Then the entertainment showed up.


The King Of Rock wearing his Adidas, Reverend Run of Run DMC rapping along to sixty second bursts of about 100 songs from the 60s, 70s, a lot of the 80s, and 90s. He went into a few of his tracks including It’s Tricky. I’m not sure how BlogHer snagged one of rap’s pioneers but the man had his own reality show, his own cooking program, so rockin’ the mic at a mostly female blogging convention seems logical if you don’t really think about it.

Personally, BlogHer 14 was everything I wanted it to be. Take away the food, my proximity to a Kardashian and my lost rental car valet ticket and the trip was perfect. I learned a lot and met some amazing people.


So, why is blogging hard? I think it’s because to do it well you have to reveal yourself, opening your heart to what non-bloggers would call strangers but you call friends. The connection you make with isn’t easily explained. These relationships challenge you and make you a better writer. This limits the struggle to hit publish, everyday. This is why I say, It’s Tricky.

I wrote two books. They got good reviews. The third one, a sequel to the first, Woman Of Troy, is on the way, very soon.

The Ballad of Helene Troy, an underdog story about a female musician in New York City, and Soul To Body, about an ex-1990s guitar player trying to raise his teenage daughter after the death of his wife, her mother, are available, digitally, on Amazon.com for your kindles, and in paperback from Lulu.com


Through Glass – Blogher Part 3


Last time: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/2014/07/29/you-get-what-you-give-blogher-part-2/

Being a wide-eyed rookie guy among a 98 percent female BlogHer population made my experience in San Jose a lot different, so my recaps read like a USO worker in 1968 Vietnam – I didn’t see a lot of dead bodies and everyone was nice to me because they wanted entertainment.

In past few years, I would read my fellow writers conference trips, BlogHer and others, and felt like a little kid looking at a shiny bike through the department store window, smudging my nose against the pane, enviously looking through glass.

Friday day night, Day 2, was a little less business in front and more party in back. The highlight of BlogHer is the Voices Of The Year. This conference’s theme was 10×10, ten speakers for the 10th year of BlogHer. The personal tales of the amazing women who spoke were breathtaking. Topics ranging from drug and alcohol addiction, how personal blogging was life-saving, racism, and my personal favorite, one by @firemom aka Jenna Hatfield, on suicide, were awe-inspiring. I honestly don’t think you can read and hear these 10 people speak and not be a changed person.

I needed relief from the ringer of VOTR. Killer karaoke was calling. Full disclosure; I hate non-singers warbling into open mikes to canned tracks. This is why I abhor American Idol. You know me, punk rock forever. I make exceptions for my spouse (who slayed the crowd with Sugarland’s Stay) and close friends like Nancy Davis Kho aka @midlifemixtake, who wowed with Going Back To Cali, and my http://www.leftypop.com Lefty Pop partner in crime, Linda Roy, an actual singer with her Americana band, Jehovas Waitresses, who killed with Tom Petty’s American Girl.

deanasinging menancylindaisnging

I then went looking for the Queerasphere Party because those are my people, but ran into writer and publishing guru Norine Dworkin-McDaniel in the hotel lobby. I swear I used to party like a rockstar, but I’m old(er) now, and at BlogHer I seemed to turn every social moment into a 45 minute conversation about writing or editing or publishing or books or social media. I should have a Charlie Rose-like show where I put people to sleep except for the 4 other writing wonks who care about this crap 24/7. Norine dropped knowledge like it was hot and even let me buy her a club soda. Her informal session may have been the biggest professional highlight of BlogHer. I wanted to go back to my room and fill up a notebook.

I did make it to the party, very late, and other than a Sweet Home Alabama moment – you have a baby, in a hotel room party, at almost midnight, I met more awesome people, the best of which was Jenna Hatfield, the VOTR speaker. It was a really nice conversation. Again, track her stuff down either on the BlogHer website or her blog.

I made my way back to the lobby, hang with my wife and her new friends, including a bright new face, @LostInAsgard, where we blabbed for almost an hour about comic books and superhero movies. Could I be any geekier? Okay, fine, I could have talked to her all night. The new Wonder Woman in the Batfleck movie looks like Xena the Warrior Princess. Are you kidding me?

I can say this about the BlogHer writers and conference attendees. They should run Hollywood. I laughed more and saw much more entertainment there, than I have on television and in movies, in years.

Saturday, Day 3 wasn’t as eventful. Where does BlogHer get their eggs, RubberFood R Us? My morning session was on social media advertising. HELLO!? Wake up! Jessica the Domestic Pirate and I liked it, got a lot out of it, made more sarcastic comments into each other’s ears than the Guinness Book Of Records can count, but figured out how to make Lefty Pop take over the internet sooner rather than later. Then it was time for Scandal, a Kardashian and cheeseburger sliders (thanks @juliedeneen).

Kerry Washington was the keynote. I know her as being The Thing’s girlfriend in the Fantastic Four movies, again, nerddom, but you may recognize her as the female lead in Scandal, where everyone sleeps with the President, 5 people a show are killed and Kerry’s Olivia Pope makes it all better while society’s moral compass is shattered into a million pieces. She was fascinating and pretty.



Khloe Kardashian was downstairs. I realize this was a chance for me to take out one of those and make the world a better place, but my 18-year-old daughter begged me for a picture and autograph, so my wife took the bullet instead of Khloe. I’m a better parent than pop culture assassin. My wife said she was extremely nice, asked for my daughter’s name, and treated her well. Sucks when evil doesn’t do what you want it to do.

deana andkhloe

Next time, Run’s house, grumpy selfies, and all of the people who make the internet good.

I wrote two books. They got good reviews. The third one, a sequel to the first, Woman Of Troy, is on the way, very soon.

The Ballad of Helene Troy, an underdog story about a female musician in New York City, and Soul To Body, about an ex-1990s guitar player trying to raise his teenage daughter after the death of his wife, her mother, are available, digitally, on Amazon.com for your kindles, and in paperback from Lulu.com