Thursday, December 11, 2008


Well, the end of the semester is right around the corner, and I'm rather excited, however, it would be true to say, that I am also a little upset. I am excited because I can now hibernate for a month to come, (unless it snows, then i have to work) but by hibernate, I mean sleep late, play video games, go out late at night, bury my head in a few books, and most of all...Completely waste my time. On the other hand, I will most definitely miss some class time. I'm not a dweeb that lives to go to school and learn, however, i enjoy learning and bettering my writing. I think it is safe to say that this creative writing class, has taught me(and all of us) a little more about our own writing. So Hats off to the professor.

Oh yea so blogging purposes.... Yes. Ummm Literary reading event. Unfortunately it did not happen this year. I've actually never really contemplated going to one before. I guess its because I don't have a very profound interest in listening to someone read to me, when i could very well read it myself. Although, lately, I have been entertaining the idea of going to a "authors reading." I have actually been checking for authors I enjoy at local Barnes and nobles and what not, but I have not found one yet. Hopefully I will find one soon, and when I do I will most definitely be attending.

Thursday, December 4, 2008

In Disgruntled Resignation of the Eventually Un-Inevitable

All I would like to say right now is that I really don't feel like going into The Villiage for a reading.

Every time I go there, a very flamboyant guy tries to sweep me off my feet.


(No Offense Villagers)

Thursday, November 20, 2008


Alright, Well As I'm looking at the requirements for blogs, I have come to the conclusion: I"M SCREWED. I don't believe i have nearly enough of anything yet, and So little time to complete it. So i need to step my ass into high gear and pump out Blogs, like its my job!

Anyway this blog is going to be about something I am reading in another class, that something is going to be...The Book of Lost Things, written by John Connolly. Well this Book is pretty awesome. I was assigned this reading for my Sci-Fi class, and I am fully enjoying all the novels i have read for that class. To be honest I am not much of a reader, I don't just pick up a book in my spare time and sit down to read it. Generally, I'm either working, or working out, or partying... And by partying i mean playing video games, or at a bar. Anyway, this book has me sitting home and reading instead of going out. Its about this boy David, who has a great imagination. He has featured much loss in his life and is a damn depressed kid. Anyway David the main character hears the voice of his mother calling him from another "world", so he follows the voice and is now stuck in this other world which is fueled by his imagination. In this story he meets characters from fairy tales and other books he has read.

This book is awesome, it reads very very well, and it also ties in other fairy tales. *e.x little red riding hood, snow white(& the eight dwarfs), Hansel and Gretel. The book is clever and a must read. Once you pick it up, you can not put it down. WARNING. Anyway, I'm probably going to read another book or two by John Connolly. So check his other works out and if none strike your eye... Read Book of lost things.

My WORKSHOP FOR 11/20/2008

Step Three
“John, aren’t you going to open your presents?” Laurie said. That’s my mom.
I tend to call my parents by their first names because it really gets to them, and partially because I feel like they are fellow adults in my life, not my parents.
“Of course I’m going to open my gifts, Mom. It’s Christmas! I’ll be back in a minute, then I will open them. Ok?” I quickly ran up the stairs to my room.
I really hate Christmas. Family, food, and spending money for relatives that don’t even call me on my birthday. A family should remember that type of shit, but not mine. Nope, I have the dysfunctional Brady Bunch with chain smokers, alcoholics, and inconsiderate money mongers.
I hear my Mom as clear as a bell, but I ignore her as usual.
“Are you coming down!? We are waiting for you!”
I almost need to cup my hands over my ears. When she yells, she’s like a yelping dog that just got a kick in the side. I look in the mirror. I’m getting out of shape. I have the beer belly of a fifty year old drunk. The bags under my eyes are a hideous concoction of yellow, purple, and brown, like the sunset right before it rains. I have a slight five o’clock shadow. I stare hard into my eyes.
What the hell am I doing to myself?
“JOHHHHNNNNNN,” Laurie yelped.
“I’m coming! Holy Toledo.”
I’m not sixteen anymore. For Christ sake I’m twenty one, I’m in college, cut me some fucking
She’ll never stop hounding me. One-Two- Three! It’s like I’m swallowing poison. It was burning all the way down. I quickly rinse, and run down the stairs. I’m pretty good with my sobriety until the holidays roll around.
“Mom, Dad, Gabby, I’m sorry I kept you waiting, but the cookies left for Santa needed to come out,” I said as I gave my jello-like tushy a good pat.
“John! Your sister is only four! Cut-it-out,” Dad said.
His face had a scarlet tint to it, and his eyes got real big. His brow was stiff, making the lines in his forehead more apparent than usual. I always love getting a rise out of him. It’s easy. Like stealing candy from a baby.
“Alright, Danny Tanner.” I wait a second so he can cool off.
Gabby, is the only “normal” person in my family. She looks like a Mexican jumping bean. She is running and jumping all over the place, from the couch to the fireplace, to another couch. It’s cute.
Well, now is that dreadful time to open a gift and act like I enjoy it. It‘s going in the garbage or under my bed anyway.
“Let’s see what Santa brought me!! Whoopie!”
Fuck my life, this sucks.
I start with the big box, knowing it would be something ridiculous. I bypassed the card knowing it would piss my mom off. I look up with a slight grin to see my mom having a conniption. She must be a facial contortionist.
“Oh I almost forgot the card. Silly me.”
Well that’s sweet, they love me, they are proud of me. Couldn’t ask for a better son?? That’s a
crock of shit, ha.
I try to keep a straight face, but I let out a slight cackle.
I’m going to be a great man one day, I just need to find my path? What does that mean?
Well at least I had a hundred dollar bill in there.
“Thank you so much, I love you guys.”
I have to restrain myself from cringing. I get my lethargic ass out of the recliner, and slowly walk towards them, and give them both a hug and mommy gets a little kiss, from her “boy”. My father of course has the strong musk of Marlboro. He smoked two cigarettes in the five minutes I have been downstairs. He thinks cutting down is going from Mediums to Lights. For a psychologist, he’s pretty dense. Where was I? Yea, the big box. It has red wrapping paper, with little Santas all over it.
Turns out the big box is good for once: Guitar Hero Three.
I just start to look up and I notice Laurie is staring at me like a dog stares at you when you‘re eating dinner.
“Wow, this is really awesome, thanks so much.”
I could tell my mom picked out the present from the ear-to-ear smile. She was happy I actually like it.
“John, open the small one next,” Lloyd said.
“This one?” as I point at the green one.
“No the one that’s scrappily wrapped,” Lloyd said.
I play stupid to keep them happy. Of course I know which one it is. The only time a present my dad picks out looks good is when a sweet old lady from Macy’s wraps it.
This is an odd shape present. What the hell can it be?
The bottom is flat and hard like a small piece of wood, and the rest is wrapped like he was in a rush. I open it skeptically, curious to the content. There is a baseball glove with a baseball in it.
A baseball glove? Is this guy friggin serious?
“Lloyd, I hate baseball, you know that. I haven’t played since..”
“Keep going John, there’s more below,” Lloyd interrupted.
“What the hell is this a sick joke?”
Dad quickly said, “I’m sorry, I just thought we could throw the ball around like we use to. . . John.”
I get out of the recliner rather quickly this time, I grab my gifts, said thank you for everything and I head up the stairs. It is a picture frame with an old picture in it. I can feel the
tears building up behind these brick walls. I was eleven. I was wearing my baseball uniform playing catch in the back yard with Lloyd. My mom had taken the picture, then went inside to get the phone. Lloyd and I were joking around saying that I was going to be a Yankees pitcher someday. I hate the Yankees. Our catch was interrupted by the shriek of Laurie. She told us Aunt Susan just died. She Overdosed. She was an alcoholic.
I lock the door and go straight to that sleek, cold, bottle that’s sitting there. She’s just waiting for me to grab her by the neck and pour her into my blood.
Why would he give me that picture. That is the day I lost faith in baseball and in God. He knew. What a jerk. I’m like a little girl, I can’t even hold back my emotions. Aunt Susan, was and still is my favorite. She went to almost every little league game I had. Half of the time she drove me to practice. I really loved her, and I wish she knew that. She cared about me, unlike my parents. No one even came up to see how I am doing. Family, ha!
One-two. This time it is like water. I sit down on the edge of my bed, picture on the floor, bottle and shot glass in the other hand. This time a quick one-two-three.
Why are shot glasses so small? The standard shot glass should be at least twice this size. Who invented the shot glass anyway, a God-dammed midget? Still not feeling anything.

Thursday, November 13, 2008

A teller of tales.

OK well, For this post its rather, odd. I was doing the crossword this morning and I came across one that said a teller's stack. It was four letters long, third letter an E. I began to think, A bank teller's stack is filled with ones...which would fit. But what if it is a story teller... Then it would be lies... Well, My wandering little mind, went off on a tangent and made a rhyme that is sort of a story about a teller of tales, who's stack is filled with lies. So that is what this post is about... ENJOY...??

The Tale of…
This is how a tale begins,
With a might Grand Opening….

Once there was a teller of tales,
Fairy, Fiction, and of loves nightingales.
He was shrewd and rude at all times,
Most of all crude in his rhymes.
He’ll tell you thrice about some stacks
Then twice about madams racks.
But not once will he tell about his own stack….
A banker’s stack you see is filled with coins,
And a man’s is not more than between his groin.
A whore’s stack is between her thighs,
But this teller’s stack is made of lies.
A princess you say awaits love’s true kiss,
But it may only be fraudulent bliss.
O this teller of tales will make you see
That not every story ends happily.
There was this prince that came to slay,
And save the princess from her dismay
He will be charming, but not the guy,
For he only wants her royal whispering eye.
O this teller is so sly,
To fill your heads with his lies.
Thrice you say, it is not true
Twice he will try and trick you.
Not once will he say that it is not true.
For you see a teller of lies, is not a teller of tales.
Not of fairy, fictions, monsters or even loves nightingales.
It is true, that this teller will loose his disguise,
He’s not more than a rat filled with lies,
Now is the end, its his demise.
He won’t part for long,
So don’t say your good-byes.

Thursday, November 6, 2008

How to: Blog

Just like many other people in The Eng 332 class; this is my first real experience blogging. Honestly, I was completely confused at first on what to Blog about. Don't get me wrong, I still am, but I'm slowly getting the hang of it. Well, initially I viewed this blog as a silly little assignment I had to do every week. Nothing more, Maybe less. Personally, I still think it is a little SILLY. On the contrary, I am ENJOYING my blogging experience.

According to the word Blog means online diary
2.a personal chronological log of thoughts published on a Web page

This Blog may also be known as a Web blog.

In searching the meaning of the word blog, I came to two conclusions:
1. Blogs are silly to me because I never kept a diary, and I believe that they are feminine.
2. I finally know, what the F*ck a BLOG IS!!!

Any who.... The reason I labeled this blog How to: Blog is because once you accept what a blog really is, it is easier to do it. On the homework sheet when there is no specific what to blog about, i find it easier to blog. I can write whats on my mind, or something i found interesting. There is large variety of what I'd rather blog about, than blogging about literary excellence or poetry prompting(which was actually pretty darn cool).

If anyone else is stuck with this whole blogging experience there was a website that was very simple and helpful. Give it a go.

Thursday, October 23, 2008

A piece that Saved my Life....

Alrighty, I have been sitting here thinking about a piece of writing, poem, story, or book that has changed my life. Well, to be honest I think the word ~SAVED~ is a little dramatic.

However, I have read one piece work that has ...ChAnGeD... my life.

This book, was written by Bill Wilson. If anybody reads this, (which probably wont happen) you are asking yourself who Bill Wilson is. If by chance you do know who Bill W, is then his book has probably helped you in your life as well. His book has been referred to as the "Big Book."
This is rather a personal issue which I don't want to get too in depth with, so let me just say a few good things about Bill. His work was the first of its kind. His book was made to help other who suffered from problems like his. He might have been one of the most influential men of all times. In my opinion, he has helped more men and women in the world than any other person.
At the time I read his book I was 18, I had just dropped out of college, started working construction, and was constantly kicked out of my house. I was on a one way track to a life of depression, destruction, and/or certain death. One Christmas I had an Epiphany. Which is the basis for one of my Fiction stories. (the events are not all true). Anyway, I am not entirely comfortably talking about this more, via So, if you would like to know more about what Bill Wilson did, click on the link below.