Twenty Two Authors

There were 22 authors at the Hoboken Book Fair. Some of us read to basically each other. A few family members showed. Free breakfast and lunch made up for a lot. I spoke to some old friends, made a few new ones. Everything was very civil.
The keynote speaker wrote a cookbook and was by far the most popular writer there. What can you do? People value food over good literature. I put my books on a table, asked a volunteer to watch them and took off to Dunkin Donuts for an hour. Sometimes you just get sick of talking about yourself.
I didn't sell any books, keeping my record at book fairs intact. My books have colorful, eerie covers, irresistible in my opinion. Evidently others disagreed.
It didn't rain, no one threw up, there were no fist fights, no drunkenness.  I got an ID tag, which I wear all the time. It has my name and Author underneath. I also received a placard with my bio. Very classy.
You know, I really feel like a writer. Wish I could autograph this blog for you.

Caged

I'm watching this movie, Caged from 1950 in B&W. It stars Eleanor Parker and some of the toughest women ever seen on the screen. She's imprisoned as an accessory in a robbery and her innocence is gradually destroyed. A matron named Evelyn Harper shaves off her hair as punishment. There's lots of tough talk, screaming, sobbing and pleading.
What we need right now is a good women in prison movie. Natalie Portman can play the Parker role. Wait. She has just returned from the hospital, a blank woman, emotionless, but somewhere in there a tough, enraged creature throbs. I sense there will be revenge coming. B&W sure adds an edge to everything. Uh oh! The mean matron has just been stabbed by Parker!
"Kindly omit the flowers," is all she says.
This is so much better than Superman.

Rain

Rain

A lost day is a lost day
Getting wet isn't the issue
Flooding is not what bothers me
There is something frightening in watching rainfall

What upsets me are all the singles
Crowding into places and ordering coffee
Spending hours reading papers, typing, texting
Sitting in my seat, doing exactly what I do every day
Even in sunshine

None of us can deal with staying inside
During a monsoon
We eat and nap and watch old movies
And at some point panic sets in
As we contemplate our lives

Falling short of whatever plans we made
Wondering what some long ago love is doing
As the drops ping on our roof
Splat, splat, splat
A life running off toward gutters

Book Four

The Story Eaters--Switchblade Stories 4 is close to being published. Although I included the usual 40 pieces, the book is slimmer than the previous three. Doesn't mean the quality isn't high level. These are stories that will make you laugh and keep you awake.
I plan on 15 collections altogether and most of them are written. If it weren't for Create Space I never could afford to self publish all of them, not to mention the dozen volumes of my other writing. I'm not 25 anymore and my priority is to get this stuff out before I depart.
I've gotten good feedback on the other books from all ages. Flash fiction is a popular genre that most publications seek. I think it's at least as popular as poetry, and may have surpassed the traditional short story. The great thing about this genre is if you don't care for one, it is over in minutes and you start another. Like White Castle sliders.
Check out my work on Amazon and if you get one and wish to review it, I'd appreciate it.
This has been a public service announcement. We now resume our normal blog absurdity.

Upcoming Book Fair

This Saturday I am participating in a local book fair again. The last one, two months ago, resulted in zero sales. It is supposed to rain most of the day. I will not get my hopes up this time. They are providing free breakfast and lunch. Tell you what. If I show up and they tell me it's cancelled due to weather, they'd better still come up with the food. Plus I'm promised a parking pass, which I will keep and use for the next five years.
All of us authors set up our books and posters wearing hopeful expressions. We psyche ourselves up to talk to interested readers, intellectuals, students seeking discovery. Usually all we get are tired parents with bored kids and oldies with no discretionary income who are just looking to talk to someone. And talk and talk.
There are going to be tents, which will help. I'm scheduled to read from my work, which is always difficult. I need to practice breath control. I will wear a wrinkle free shirt and clean socks. I will smell good. So will my books.
So come to Hoboken on Saturday and if you have a nice smile I may share my breakfast with you. Not lunch, never lunch.

Commencement Speech

Dear Graduates,
I am very honored to have been chosen to speak to you on this important day. As Chairman of Black Rock, a hedge fund controlling over one trillion dollars, I believe we are at the epicenter of the future. Not you, us.
I know each of you welcomes the challenge of finding your way and achieving your goals. None of you want to return home and live with your parents while you flip burgers for minimum wage. I would love to say the future is yours. That is nonsense. We at Black Rock purchased the future in a bloodless take over last month.
Are you afraid? Don't be. If you work hard and apply yourself, you can still buy decent furniture and clothes and vacation in Belmar. Not a bad life. Not my life, but you are not me.
If you decide not to accept the current distribution of wealth and stage protests, we will hire experienced mercenaries to pick you off one by one. Just kidding. See, we have a sense of humor.
Life is all about starting at the bottom and working your way up. I was the exception. I made my fortune by convincing people I saw opportunity where others didn't. They, in turn, saw fearlessness in my eyes. Plus I was wearing an Armani suit and a really expensive watch you will never afford.
Please hold your applause. Modesty becomes me.

Off the Roof

Please get off the roof. I'm sorry I said some things and ignored your feelings. We were happy once, doing the hully gully on Saturday night at the rec center. Now all we do is fight.
Stomping on my tomato plants was low. Now you're up there threatening to plunge into my flower bed.
Be sensible. If you do that I'll set fire to your workbench, glue your gloves together, hide all the nails and screws. Not that I'm vindictive.
It's not too late to return to what we were. I still remember all the hully gully moves. Come on down, honey. Let's be a family again.
Stop! Don't do that. Put it away right now.
Nice. Wonderful. Peeing on my flowers is very productive. Say goodbye to your power saw. This negotiation is over.
What are you doing? Those are hully gully moves. On our roof with everyone watching. You really know how to push my buttons. Now I recall why I married you. All that boyish charm. Plus you're hung like a rhino.