Recent Items..

Last night I did something I do many times during the week. I logged onto my computer and checked my numerous emails,  face book, and all the other items that tend to keep me informed about the outside world from within.  Then I scanned my recent items folder, you know the one in your start menu that shows you all the fifteen things you have been working on most recently.  There were pictures I have created and changed and documents I have written both for writing pleasure and business.  But there was one thing I didn’t see, it was the very thing I never thought I would lose sight of.  My ever-growing novel……

Sitting here looking at this screen of the informed I attempted to retrace my memory banks in hopes of knowing exactly where this file was, as I had moved it only a few months ago.  I had forgotten, for a split second my memory went blank and that document was lost.  I have always looked of  an ever-growing piece of writing whether it be story or thesis, to be a child nurtured and fed and given the strength to survive, never forgotten nor ever neglected.

I feel much like a bad parent, and I wonder where the passion has gone, there are so many distractions in life but that is an excuse that so many make.  The truth is this story has fallen into neglect because I did not take the time to give it the attention it needed.  That realization makes me question my passion, it makes me wonder and contemplate maybe this was not the book for me to write first, or maybe it is just simply not good enough. With my own standards more than societies.

Or Maybe this is just another one of those hurdles that writers go through when they hit a lull in their work.  Maybe when I find that place of complete solitude my bottomless pool of inspiration can truly be unleashed. For now I think it is time for me to go and make up for lost time, with a child I was just starting to get to know..

Reunited with an old friend..

Many many a year ago when I was just a boy, I had this wonderful friend called AG Bear, he spoke in less than audible tones yet he would sit by my side and we would speak tales of pirates and monsters and lollipop mountains.  My father was the one who bought the bear and claimed him for his own, but every time my father wasnt looking I would sneak, sneak, sneak upstairs to his room and hid behind the bed.  I would look out to make sure no one was coming, and crawled in a more than rough army style to plunder my dear friend AG from his prison on the shelf in front of the closet. 

Then one day, I heard something strange, two voices, one high and one low.  Upon further inspection I noticed that AG Bear had a baby, it was a bear just like him but with gray fur and a bib.  I watched curious as they talked and grumbled aloud, smiling and laughing in that innocent sort of way I took them both to my room and played.  What fun we had that summer hunting monsters in the woods with sticks, playing army against alien invaders, or just sitting on the porch watching the storms blaze by.  Yes it was memorable indeed.

As as summer passed so seemed my time with the AG Bear family, for one day I went in and they were nowhere to be found, it is almost sad to admit that I cried that day.  I can still see the little boy sitting there fumbling his fingers and thumbs with his head down imagining AG Bear and AG Baby walking out into the sunset together.  Even more sadly was the fact the little boy never saw them again, although he spoke of him often.

Over twenty years had passed since that day and I still felt a slight tear in my chest and the loss of such wonderful boyhood friends.  But time had healed the wounds of the past and the stress of the adult reminded me who I was and how old I had become.  Then something happened, something wonderous and sweet, Christmas came and I was in for a treat, for there were presents under the parents tree with care and one had my name before I was even there.  When I arrived my dad handed me this gift and to my surprise it was………………………………..

Yes he is home again, my beloved friend AG, I am sure he has many tales to tell me of his adventures and if you wish I shall share some of them with all of you, I certianly dont think he would mind…. Thank you all for sharing this wonderful treat, and please dont hesitate to say hello, he may grumble and he may growl smile you see just cant be beat..

Reinvention..

So I have been noticing people blogging more especially among the small group of people I know.  There has been several people who followed me wondering if I have completely severed myself from the blogging experience.  To my response, “No, I just had a blog attack and I needed some time to recoup..lol”  Actually time has gotten away from me more then I have wanted it too.  There have been issues in which I will refrain from getting into now.  But I am finding that there is light at the end of the tunnel for the job situation I am hoping anyway. 

I have done a couple freelance writing pieces for some local businesses and some computer work for those people who are at an accelerated age who do not understand this new aspect of technology.  I must say it is interesting to attempt to teach people who have no concept of what computers or programs are.

I am thinking among the positive lately, it is a good thing looking at the new year with a sense of rejuvenation and reinvention.  There have been times when this has been stated before and as quickly as it was said everything would slide back into the usual malaise.  But this year is different, I am about half way done my book which it will hopefully be done by march or april.  I am really anxious to send out a query letter in hopes of getting an agent.  I am finding more inventive ways to pay the bills which has added many more skills to my already long list of abilities.

Lately I have just been working on trying to find as much work as possible and writing my book.   I even took time off of my online writing with my illustrious partner and her dementia so I can focus on this story.  There is no way I can truly say how thankful I am for her support, she is just absolutely awesome.

My next endeavor once the money flow comes in more regularly is to build my own computer, hours of research has been done on this and countless tutorials have been looked at and read in preparation for this task.  I think if I get this right then there will never be an instance where a prefabricated computer will enter my house again.  The computer I want to build would be worth about 2000  to 2500 depending the company and mine will cost 825 clams.  You can’t beat that…

Well I am just letting you all know I am still here, and coming back to play on here spring will be coming upon us soon and there is allot that must be done.  So I will keep you all updated on my writing, gardening, and menagerie of other hobbies.  Talk to you soon…

I will be posting up pictures of the Christmas display from Longwood Gardens later on today, stay tuned..

Chrysanthemum Festival…

I know it has been forever since I have written on this thing and for that I am sorry I have just been way to busy looking for this and that in which I will update you all on later.  Here I want to spread a little beauty and give you a little peek on a beautiful flower display I went too a couple weeks ago at Longwood Gardens in Kennett Square, PA.

This tree is one Chrysanthemum plant that has been grown into a tree and manipulated to grow a thousand flowers a season formed into this beautiful dome.  Amazing!

This is the vision as you walk into the conservatory of the gardens, every bloom is another type of mum grown to dazzle the eye.  These displays are changed on a weekly basis.

This is on the otherside of the conservatory where the ball room is (which is at the far end) All those little white swirled mums I think are the best.. Thats going to be my project for next season… Actually they are all started right now in the basement..lol

This is a hybridized mum 100 different types on one plant.. Amazing. 

Giant inverted purple and white mums.. Awesome..

I hope you enjoyed these beautiful pictures as much as I enjoyed taking them.  I do also hope you can see why this place is so inspiring to me and this is only one small part of a vast temple of botanical beauty. Those of you whom are close by visit Longwood gardens in Pennsylvania it is a sight to be seen.  You may even see me there.  Christmas display is up now you will be seeing pictures of that soon enough…

  Thank you all for sharing in this wonderment.  I will most assurely be writing here again very soon.. Til then..

Decadence

This is the novel I am working on.. Please take a look and tell me what you think.

Chapter 1

Standing out in the dead of night upon the cobblestone walk, these were the most memorable nights of all.  Waiting for my nefarious convoy made me wonder if my lack of ethics would curse me one day.  Before the mind started playing tricks of righteous, steady gallops of steed come marching from the mist.  The carriage was black, roughly built yet strong enough to carry items of bulk and weight.  When it stopped a man looked down and tipped his hat and smiled.  It was Rodney Jenkins merchant by day, grave robber by night.  “Good evening dear sir, I come bearing gifts” Rodney’s full face and brimming smile had a morbid way of misleading even the most suspicious fellow. 

As the large jovial man awkwardly fumbled out of the carriage I glanced up and down the street to make sure no one was privy to our actions.  “Come now Dr Hayden let’s get this cargo into your study”  In back of the carriage stood a large cask tightly sealed and solid, far too heavy for even two men of great strength can handle more less my medium build.  “What else does this cask contain Rodney?  This can’t be just a body.”  He looked at me and laughed with that innocence that sent shivers up my spine.  “No no Dr, I collected these remains last evening, they needed to be stored and preserved thus they wouldn’t spoil.” When Rodney popped the seal and opened the lid the smell was over powering, it wasn’t the smell of decay but that of sweet oak fermented. 

“What is this? It smells like Whiskey” He rolled up his sleeve and reached in, as he pulled back a head appeared.  “I told you Dr. He needed to be preserved.”  Harvesting the body out of the cask we carried the dripping wet heap of flesh into a hidden backdoor of Oxford University.  The room was crude but efficient; it held various items for examination.  “That will be thirty shillings dear doctor.”  Rodney held out his hand with a brimming smile, a steep price but one that would deem the demand of his troubles. With a nod the large man walked back to his carriage, closing the door I turned and looked closely at this corpse.  He was five foot two with perfect skin and a full head of hair.  “A perfect specimen, my students will most definitely be pleased.”  Rodney was always dependable about his deliveries, although he would do anything for currency, thus I shall stay away from the pubs for the next couple weeks.  Those who thirst for the drink will be getting much more than they bargained for.

As I prepared the body for dissection I carefully read through my anatomic notations refreshing my own mind in the ways of the body.  Drifting into the wee hours of the eve a dull ache started between the eyes which drove me to the office to lie upon the chesterfield for another lightly slumbered evening.  Dreams had a way of affecting even the most arrogant soul, visions of corpses and cadavers reigned supreme when the eyes closed and mind darkened.  This was my specialty, dealing with the dead, but never have my dreams invaded and induced fear as they have most recently. Many sweaty nights have followed me and I fear many more shall come.

The next morning I awoke listening to the miscellaneous steps of young men awaiting a most exciting discovery.  Fixing my mass of dark hair, cleaning the spectacles and straightening this brown drab suit I prepared myself for the enticing venture, for I will teach these lads the human body.  Pushing this laborious table from room to room gave me a quiver as if death himself were following me, something was happening, for I am no psychic but  intuition reared its ugly head and it is rarely wrong.

The moment I entered the room all the men rose to their feet, their exciting expressions were more than obvious.  “Good morning young lads” Settling the table so all could see the collective voices echoed through the room. “Good Morning Dr. Hayden” I turned and looked, all the young men sat in their white jackets with eager smiles. “Today we will be dissecting a body; I will show you every organ from retina to rectum.  Keep something in mind dear students, this is not to be looked at with humor nor is this for those who lack intestinal fortitude.  So if anyone here wishes to exit, now is the time.  If you leave then don’t come back, for if you cannot muster through this then there is no reason for you to be in this class.” 

I looked around the room testing them all with my eyes, waiting for one to stand and challenge my plea.  Turning approaching the body, grasping the sheet, “Now students I give you the human body.”  Dramatically pulling the sheet away there was a hushed awe among the students, who have all seen the naked form before but not displayed with such simplicity. There was a lingering smell of whiskey that intermingled with that of death.   

“Now taking your scalpel in hand make your first cut from shoulder to sternum on each side, to form a V shape.  Make the cut deep enough that your blade will glide against each rib until you come to the bottom of the sternum repeating on the other side.” 

The flesh was tough; the alcohol shrunk the skin making tears as the blade sliced through. “Now comes the challenge, this takes feel and finesse.  Cut straight down from the sternum to the top of the pelvis keeping in mind you have no bone to protect the organs. Cut too deep and you will perforate the bowel, there is no mistaking a slice in the bowel because it will emanate a putrid gas and leave any living patient more prone to infection in surgery.”  Pulling the skin back, nailing each corner to the table the acidic smell burst in an invisible wave of sweet stench.

Looking over the crowed of students there were faces of fascination and repulsion.  Those repulsed quickly shielded their fear when my eyes fell on them, I stifled a smile, and whispers started filling the room. With voices of wonder and horror the students attempted to wrap their eyes and minds around the example below for they saw the reality of what their text have taught them.

“Can anyone come down here and name for the class the array of organs that lay before you?”  The room went quiet, you could feel the tension build.  There were those like Charles Shaw and Maurice Miller who had their hands held high, they were my most eager and intelligent students in my class but lacked the heart to do for anyone but themselves.  Most of the students sat there trying to be faceless, but there was horror in all of their eyes. Looking over the vastness of the crowd was one whom sat unaffected by this vision of horror.

            “Aaron Morris, come down here.” He was the most quiet of my students, but contained an amazing curiosity without an ounce of fear.  This lanky boy trimmed and propped came to the table and looked at me with an emotionless stare, his eyes overshadowed by the darkness.  One by one he pointed out the organs using the perfect medical vernacular spoken with the tone that echoed well through the room.  I walked about looking at the faces of those under my care wondering how many will overcome their fears and take this profession on nurturing those who cannot heal themselves.

With this meaningless thought, the visions of my dreams came back to me, the bodies, horror, and writhing screams in the blinding darkness of the mind.  I did not understand what was coming too get me, it made one wonder if the past were catching up with me.  It was then a laugh was conveyed in an almost audible tone.  “A man of science cannot believe in such things” I whispered. 

“Excuse me sir?”  Aaron spoke as he handed me the pointer.  “Thank you very much Aaron splendid job.  Now I want everyone to come down here and take a closer look at this body.  Gather around here take a good look.”  All the students crowded close looking down pointing out the various corners and organs of this corpse.  Some were surprised by the size of the organs and how well they fit. Others were fascinated with the look of a severed cadaver.   Penetrating the crowd carrying a scalpel I quickly made a slice in the large and lower intestine their faces moved back.  “Stop” I said. “You will all be doctors soon; you must not only learn with your eyes and hands but also with your nose, take a smell of this perforated bowel.  This could mean life or death to a patient during surgery.  Learn it, remember it, and use it.  Do not be afraid no matter how horrifying it might be, too use your nose as a sign of caution.  You are all dismissed; there will be an exam on anatomy this Tuesday.  Good day students.”   Covering this mutilated body leaving it for the advanced students to study from I turned and was met by Aaron.

 “Excuse me sir, may I ask you something please?”  He looked on curiously.  “You may lad, what can I help you with.”  There was a pregnant pause that left me patiently waiting.  “Out of all the students with so many willing, why did you pick me?”  That was a question no student would dare ask, but that curious look in his eyes amused me.  “Follow me”

The boy watched as we walked down the empty halls, it was now my turn to lead with a extended pause.  “When a student raises their hand they don’t just want to be heard, they want all the other students and the professors to see how smart they are.  So it is not about answering the question more than it is gaining the attention.  When I ask a question, it is not my job to feed the egos of those who deem themselves smarter than others.  I am here to teach and make sure the students walk away with the knowledge I have provided, thus is why who is chosen is unpredictable.  I chose you because of your silence and you did well.”

“Hmm, I think understand” his face still looked perplexed which gave forth a quiet laugh.  “Listen lad, what you need to do is go back to your dormitory and study, the test is only four days away and there is much ground to cover, so go!”  He nodded and gave a slight smile.  “Have a good evening professor and thank you.”  It was one of those small things that made the day worth its weight; those simple moments watching a young mind grow.

            Taking the carriage through the Oxford streets gave a sigh of relief that I was in one of the less diseased cities in England.  The streets were clear as the wheels bumped along past many buildings and merchants whose sole purpose in life was to make any type of coin.  My abode lay on the north eastern side where many of the professors and educators lived amongst the upper crusted.  Sitting in that carriage looking up that long narrow staircase, that large looming house harbored nothing but silence.  The once joyful laughter left this world when my beloved ceased to be. It was upon entrance that I lit my darkened abode showing the simplicity of the bachelors life.  Passing by all the dark hallways and rooms, I came to rest in my library. Two stories of books that covered a amass of history from the ancient world to the prophesized ideals of tomorrow.  This was my sanctuary, and my life.  A book lay open of myth and legend, living in a land full of such nonsense one cannot help but read the fictional exploits of those who believed in large wolf like creatures or men with fangs.  These were books left by students and other professors who indulged in these stories in hopes that someday they would be real. 

Scientist can not be blamed for such curiosities as I am standing here right now with this in my hand.  It is most assuredly the mystery that binds us into believing such frivolous tales, men of science are suckers for legends and possibilities.

            There was a knock at the door, checking the sterling silver pocket watch my wife once gave me, made my brow furrow, not only from the reminder, but the time. Opening the door a young lad barely past adolescence, thin freckled with a checkered hat and suit stood before me.  “Good evening boy, do you realize the time? The sun has past the horizon, what do you here?”  The boy looked at me anxiously.  “My deepest apologies sir, this letter came and I was told it was of the utmost importance.”  Reaching in taking the last two bits from my pocket I took the letter and let the boy run off.  “To Dr. Thomas Hayden” The writing was exquisite it spoke of class, and those hairs started to twitch ever so slightly as I tore the paper away. 

            “Dear Dr Hayden,

My name is Mary Davenport I have been serving your father for many years.  Your father has fallen ill and I fear he may not make it more then another day or two.  He wishes you to come to London, there is something of great importance he must give you.  I realize how difficult this might be, please abide by his wishes; I have never seen him so determined…

Sincerely,

Mary Davenport”

            My father, a man I have not seen in years.  It was not pride that drove him to wish my presence nor would it be an act of affection. It was believed by many he lost all hope and love when my mother passed on.  He wanted something from me, a book or file or access to some information from the university.  Being the most revered anthropologist in all of England and a master manipulator made him believe he was entitled anything through his whim.  It would be no surprise if his illness was a mere ploy to be in the same room. Turning I caught a glimpse of my wife’s picture, her eyes showed something not even a scientific mind could pass, compassion. 

With so many memories passing by I found myself packing directed by some strange force, maybe conscience or the simple act of possibility that illness had truly taken the one whose name I bore.  Carriages were always at beck and call for doctors as we were the denizens of the people for their constant well being.  With a wave of the arm I reached up calling down the next carriage a young man jumped down and helped me with my bags. “Good eve sir, where can I take you tonight?”  These drivers were dedicated to the city and its limits only a lesser man to believe this boy was any different, casually reaching into my pocket pulling out a pouch of change. 

“My boy, I must get to London immediately, there is a very rare case I have been called upon, I beg of your service.”  The boys hat just barely covered his eyes though watching them turn from left to right extended a small grin on this unshaven face.  “No problem sir, what part of London are you being called too?”  Passing the bag to him under a dark leather glove, “Primrose Hill and please hurry.” The horse galloped gallantly these were the trots of a common cab ride through the city of Oxford, it was only when the city lines were broached that the gallops increased into a hastened charge to London. 

© 2010 William C Stuckey

The Birth of an Ass..

I find it interesting how much someone can grow in a short amount of time when given the opportunity and has the open mind to do it.  I have learned several things in the past three years in which made me more confident as well as given me the pleasure of bringing out my inner asshole with happiness and glee.  You see I have found that being nice is not all it is cracked up to be.  They say nice guys finish last and that is true to a point, the way I see it nice guys finish last then get stepped on, crapped on and any other bodily function you can think of on.  Amazingly enough this is contrary to the way I have always tried to live my life.  We are taught always treat people with respect and kindness amd thus I have done that and where am I?  Definately not where I would have desired to be at the age of 32.

So I have let out this blissfully liberating alter ego that has been aching and dancing to be set free.  He is every contemptable thought, feeling and urge let out of the bag which has manifested collectively into one cohesive attitude.  Since I have adopted this little personality change I have seen so much in people that I had never seen before.  Why is it we see these things only as an aftermath? They say hindsight is 20/20 man I wish I had some foresight for once.lol

Anyway what I have realized is in the grand scheme of things people dont change unless something taps you on the head and makes you see things that you were never willing to see before.  For me thats saying it modestly, for me it was more like a kick by a two ton mule right between the eyes..   There are people we know who want to change but cant, and those who have changed whether for the better or worse.  Then you have so many who revert back to their old habits which holds them back from really expanding on their own lives.  I guess I have always been hopeful that those people I once cared about would have taken a step in the right direction in both my real and online life (which is almost non existant now).  But I think hope was the last bit of inner pleasentry I had left and it is now cracked and fractured to its core soon to fall and become another ancient ruin of life experience.

The asshole in me is very happy to be here to see the blissful rays of the sun.  He has abolished my white knight syndrome, he speaks his mind no matter how anyone feels about it.  He is not afraid to push the boundries of people who we consider friends to make sure they are good for both him and I.  He is not one to show his face in full to most because he still wants to keep the vision of “the nice guy” persona alive.  So he has buried himself deep into the sanctity of the soul providing an inner voice of truth.  And the occasional demonic, sadistic laugh when karma bites someone in the ass who deserves it.  Personally I like him, and those I know like him too..

The nice, kindhearted, sweet guy that once was never did anything for me and so he has been evicted left with someone blunt, somewhat blasphemous, silently sadistic, with an arrogence that even the most neferous demon below would be proud of… I truly could not ask for anything more.  I truly have to thank so many for waking this wonderous beast within..

Have any of you indulged in your inner ass?  We all have one, once you have come to the realization that it exists and use it to its full potential then you will see the wonderous light as well. You will learn to keep those around you that inspire and rid those who wither you…

Mind of a fickle monster: Writing style and change.

It is interesting how things change this year for me has been all about change and the interesting results that have come from it.  Now in the past I would have said change is impossible for I am the most stubborn man I know.  Both stubbornness and arrogance kept me from doing so many things internally that I should have.  There have been so many people I have sent packing in my life and yet I am in no way saddened by this, it is more of a feeling of liberation and the desire to see what will come with time for I am now far more changed then I would have ever imagined.  Thanks to myself (and not putting up with anyones bullshit anymore) and a few supporting people who accept me for ME and not what they want me to be.  That in itself is something I have never truly found even when I thought I did but when you do find it trust me it is beyond amazing.. Thanks to those in my corner, you know who you are…

But I am not here to discuss the aspect of personal change that will come at the end of the year.  This post is about writing style and chang.  I never thought that writing style could completely change I was always under the impression that once you found your style you could modify it and fine tune it but not change it in totality.  I look at the things that I wrote years ago, actually up until about four years ago and it looks like it was someone completely different writing that material in comparison to what has been written recently.

I used to sit and marvel at other people’s writing, my partner for instance when we first started writing together I would look at her work in awe because it was so realistic and aggressive and the fact that when we first wrote together I gave her absolutely nothing to go on.  (Which honestly I still feel a tad bad about) but she turned around and wrote out this wonderful piece of work with an idea that threw everything in motion.  I have always been mesmerized by that and still am.  (But for god sake don’t tell her that, her head is big enough lol).  But yeah that has always been an amazing thing.

It was only recently that I look at my own writing and think WOW where the hell did that come from?  It literally looks like in the past three years I have been possessed by this talented demon that makes awesome stuff come out of these fingers.  When I am inspired it flows so easily now, sometimes I wonder why I don’t write more.  Then the realization comes to me on how much of a toll my characters have on me. They all have this kind of tragic way about them, delving deep into these characters mind it pulls me in like their web of intrigue and complexity and it is like a drug.  But it is also very hard to function get anything down because they are so emotionally connected. This is with virtually every person I have ever made so that makes it hard.

My father and I talked once about why there are so many writers and artists who are addicts and he said he thought it was the after math.  I didn’t quite understand what he was talking about until the next time I had a night of drinking and pool and all that good stuff.  I was dropped off beyond my personal limit by a good margin and fell into a deep dreamless sleep.  When I woke up battling the aftermath of my exploits something happened a moment of clarity that wiped away complication, intimidation, and the overwhelming burden of turning an idea into an epic in a mere moment.  It was like BOOM I got it, I completely understand  and my father was right it is the aftermath.  Sadly addictions are so unhealthy, because that moment was euphoric even beyond the nausea, booming headache and sour stomach. 

So I guess the overall question here is do writing styles actually change or is it the idea that you find your writing style over time and influence?  This is a question I am still not sure about would love to hear anyones opinion..

The Beer Connoisseur Unbrewed

For years I have been a fan of beer as I got older my desire and taste for beer changed and my palate grew more refined thanks to my brother.  Through the years beer has been a good friend as long as Mr Hard Stuff doesn’t get involved. I have enjoyed the succulent flavors, some that would even blossom into an array of yummy scents and feelings.  Yes beer has been my friend and like any mischievous friend he got me into trouble that cost me quite a bit.  And thus with each experience we learn one little bit more about our limitations..lol

I do believe our twenties should be all about sowing our proverbial oats, get in trouble be a tad reckless and unpredictable and that’s what I was.  Recently though I have found something most interesting.  It now takes away more than is given.  I have gone through periods where I wouldn’t drink for weeks on end but then I will even have one sip and my creativity goes out the window.  I have not become so much a slave to it more than I have become a husband.  And this marriage was growing dull..

Last Tuesday something happened, it was that vision I had mentioned in another post that my dear friend so politely corrected me on my opinions..lol.. The amazing thing about this is that the next day I had no desire for a beer and I havent since then.  But like many addictive additives I have put through my body this temple has told me to stop all on its own.  You know our bodies send us these messages and we need to listen to them because it is our bodies that suffer for our actions.

I think there are many factors to support my decision, this whole metamorphosis has been not only illuminating but eye-opening.  I am writing now more than ever and I don’t plan on stopping.  I think one of the main things that set that seed in place was reading Misery by Stephen King the author was held by this crazed maniac.. King later revealed that the crazed maniac was really a metaphor for his addiction… So perfect… So true…

Now all I need to learn is how to NOT delete stuff without checking with people first…..Badger: personal note I have gone without creative criticism for too many years to count, you can’t expect me to change about-face with my deleting the goodies.. Even know I know you want to kick my ass every time I do it..LOL

Inception..

I may go out to see a movie once in a few years although I have seen two movies in the past year both were unbelievable and both starred Leonardo Dicaprio.  Now I have never been a big fan of his and I really didnt know why.  Titanic was mostly the reason for it had amassed millions and the annoyance of its success and everyone daunting on that film made me bann the film from ever wanting to watch it and every actor in it.

It wasnt until this past year where I truly saw what Leonardo could do. Shutter Island was an amazing movie that spun one tale in so many different directions that you were sitting on the edge of your seat wanting to see all the loose ends being tied up.  Now the movie was somewhat predictable but there was so much more to it then just the linear story there was the back story and what brought on all these events.

I took my mother out to see Inception yesterday.. WOW I was absolutely blown away.  It was amazing to me how much complexity there was in the film, the story and each character but it was delivered in such a fashion that there was a sense of simplicity in how the story unfolded.  Most people think it is simply about going into peoples minds to extract information. 

If you think that then please go into the theatre with that information and that information only because that movie will rock you.. I am so unbelievably impressed with every aspect of that movie and how everything was tied up… Many of you who watch it will be left in the theatre wondering and thinking because it takes a minute for what you had seen to sink in.  The other cool thing is many people will walk out of their will different opinions about what just happened.

I can’t stress this enough, if you like psychological thrillers, or multi dimensional worlds of intrigue and paths.  GO WATCH THIS MOVIE!! This was the best movie I have seen in a long time.. Actually I am going to see it again because I missed a couple things..

Fleeing the scene

I have seen and been through many experiences in my life those that thrill me, fill me and scare me.  Knowing ones own faults is a very unsettling especially when you truly become aware of them like you never had before.  Almost like karma reaches out and shoves its hand right up your ass to show you what you are doing and why.  I had one of these experiences just the other night while attempting to do my yoga work out. 

Yes I have started working out again trying to trim off some weight and get into the whole yoga thing.  Well on Thursday night of this week I had a very unusual visitor come to my door.  He was about six-foot one, short dark hair, pale skin and a face with pure youth but with a look in his eyes that screamed age.  He was a most looming and quiet fellow and he was also quite fictional. 

He was one of the characters I have created and write for in my forum his name is Anton Craiovescu I have mentioned him before.  He is one of the oldest Vampires in my writing forum and yet he came to me.. Both mentally and physically.  Now before I go any further I was not drunk or on any other kind of drug.  I was in a state of complex contemplation and kind of stepped out side of my self through self-hypnosis and there he was.  An amazing fellow indeed, I was intimidating even though he was a creation of my own mind.

We both sat down and he looked over at me and asked.  “William what is the meaning of life to you?”  I answered to the best of my knowledge speaking as positively as I could.  He told me that the meaning of life was more than the mundane and less expected.  Looking at him rather dumbfounded I shook my shoulders and told him

“I know this, you must reach the full potential to what life gives you  no matter what.  I tell my friends this all the time especially those who exhibit potential talent.”  He looked at me rather crass like and scoffed.  “Yes you say that William but you don’t abide by your own words.  You speak with the jawbone of as ass, anyone can spout words it is those who can follow their own who are a true example.”

“This is coming from a fictional character who manipulates every individual and situation to go your way?  And you call me an ass? You have obviously came here for a reason Anton so in the most blunt fashion tell me why….”

“William you are running constantly, and it is not from people or family or from those who love you.  You are running from yourself, from your own mind and potential and thus running from life.  Drinking like you do, letting anxiety get the better of you, driving off to parts unknown, does nothing more than hinder the inevitability of having to face your own mind and creativity.  You are frightened, overwhelmed, and torn with emotion of what your mind believes and thinks.  These ideas and visions that reside above are a gift not a curse, embrace it, control it, and mold it William.  Leave the running to those more fitting, sit down, write and show the world what you can do….”

Then he was gone as soon as he came, what did this tell me?  My subconscious was trying to tell me something and was willing to almost drive me to the funny farm to do so.   I got the message.  I drink no more, I write every day, and little by little I am trying to control these intimidating images that continue to try to curse me.  Anton said it was a gift but the way I look at it a double-edged sword is more like it..

Thank you all  for listening to my insanity for a moment it is always interesting to write down these rare and odd experiences in the life and times of William self-proclaimed jaw bone of an ass..