CREDIBILITY ON-LINE

A young friend of my daughter went to Amazon to post a review of Outside Plumbing.  She noticed the other reviews she had previously written for other books (I think there were two) were gone.

This is being talked about all over the web, on blogs, on-line publications (such as Huff Post) Linked-In, Facebook, etc. One of my books had two reviews and they removed one.  Maisie still has not a single review.

A person who is held up as a great success in selling e-pubbed books, and who even wrote a best-selling book about that subject, has admitted publicly that he has over 500 paid-for reviews.  He did this after the contractor who arranged for the reviewing wrote an article about it.  The contractor only blew the whistle when someone discovered the nature of his business and asked him to comment. This contractor also mentioned that you paid more for a good review than a mediocre one, but his sub-contractors were instructed not to write a negative review. 

Yet, the Amazon review is still considered the bench mark for e-pub success.  Some sites won't even list your book unless you have five reviews four star and over. 

Here is my response to the concerned young lady who approached me with the news.


"The review was on my phone last night but on my computer today it was not  showing up.  Some dick who has written a book about how to successfully become a best selling author has admitted publicly that he has over 500 paid for reviews.  I have books with two ratings and they take down one.  Maisie still shows no ratings at all.  Don't bother trying again.  It is horse shit.  Everyone is talking about it and yet everyone thinks your Amazon review is the most important indicator. Fuck it.  I'm tired of it anyway. 

Thanks for trying.  It was all just a mania side effect." 

I also signed a petition that is being circulated about it and I contacted Amazon Customer Service merely to ask "why" they are doing this. But I have already seen, several times, the form reply that Amazon sends out to people who inquire about the problem. 

It is also very discouraging that at least 85% of the comments I place on other blogs, websites or articles go into the black hole.  This bothers me as it is a loss of possible blog hits for me. But, further, it may appear to the people who comment on my blog that I am not interested in theirs.  Which is hardly true.  I hate to tell you how many hours I spend answering emails and reading my 'friends' blogs.

This writing stuff used to be fun for me and great therapy.  But the whole web presence stuff is getting to be a pain.  I actually received a notice that I was banned from a website I don't even disagree with.  Again, when I inquired as to why, I received no reply.  My message to them probably went into the black hole. 

And you make  a new contact on twitter and exchange tweets a few times and visit their blog and then someone steals their identity and sends you some porno link and you try to tell the person they should change their password and boing, one more unfollow.  They are never going to get a handle on this. 

Writer's Digest recently sent me a survey and a large part of it was devoted to what my opinions are about DRM.  (Digital Rights Management)  It is to laugh.

F***ING

Okay, everyone. Quick run and put your judgmental pants on.

What should I call this article? "Sexual Intercoursing", "Copulation", "Banging" ? I am open to suggestion. You will soon see why it cannot be titled "Love-making".

Many years ago I worked with an unmarried girl who was about  five years younger than I. We became quite close friends and saw each other socially for various reasons.  After I left the job we were in contact for many years. I worked in a glass booth in the lobby of a company that was at that moment manufacturing the hottest brand of the hottest "new thing" on the market. I did the switchboard, reception, and security for the front entrance. Everyone had to have a badge. This was not so common then as it is now. One day Mr. Gronski called me from engineering and said, "We had to fire Adam and his mom just called and said he is on the way over here with a gun. Don't let him in."

Honestly.

And whiz-bang champ that I was and am, I handled it beautifully.  Even calmly announcing after about thirty minutes of chat (he was a good guy and we liked each other) that he shouldn't get upset, now, but there are six squad cars in front of the building. Well, that is kind of an aside, but it is just to point out that it was a kind of important job and this female was my back up. We spent many hours chatting in this glass booth. We would do menial typing or accounting jobs as fill-ins, but we socialized a lot and I knew a great deal about the most intimate parts of her then current social life.  Now, don't go all critical and judgmental on me here. My opinions will be evidenced, and you don't know how you would have handled it. Talking about it is different than living through it.

She got pregnant and trusted only me to tell about it. She mentioned it to the "donor", but he didn't want to handle this part of it. She wanted an abortion and asked me to accompany her and I agreed without offering my opinions or suitable alternatives. I well knew her circumstances and reasoning at this point.

We went to the Albany Park Woman's Health Center which is a close if not accurate facsimile of its name.  was where you went to get birth control products, VD treatment, abortions, etc. Everyone acted like it was a woman's health center but it was widely known in the city that you usually went there for an abortion. Of course it was only one of many such centers in this very large city.  She had counseling and stuff and, afterwards, I took her to her parent's summer cabin for a few days recovery.  Her boyfriend joined her there later. Her parents were unaware of the entire drama.

When she needed to talk about it later, and she did, I was there to listen, and I had one child and a bunch of pregnancy disasters, so I was able to give counsel. We actually even talked about what a beautiful baby it would have been. The thing that struck me most and remains with me to this day is how crowded the waiting room at that facility was. You can get pregnant maybe four days a month, and if this many women on just this one day, had unwanted pregnancies and they were a percentage of the pregnant women because there were others who wanted the pregnancy, and there were many  other centers like this one everywhere, it struck me that there must be a heap of fucking going on. I was not particularly chaste at this time in my life, but still, it boggled my mind.

About a year later, it happened to her again and she turned to me for help. I started crying and said I couldn't. I was at the beginning of what turned out to be a successful pregnancy and I thought she was being too blase about it. I told her the boyfriend needed to take her so it sunk in how serious it was. She understood and we remained friendly.

Okay. That is like the forward.

****
A few days ago, my daughter and I received emails from a distant relative just cuz we were on his enormous remailing list. We were discussing it and the conversation turned to his relationship to our family.  His mother was sister to so and so.  Before a certain patriarch of ours became a married person he had been intimate with the emailer's mother, his eventual wife's sister.  When a "person" heard about it, too many many years after the fact, the "person" became upset. Disparaging the memory of honored ancestors I guess. This segued into a conversation of how a similar situation had occurred and certain future generation members became upset when they inadvertently became a party to the details in an almost identical case  on the other side of the family. My daughter commented that she thought this probably went on  all the time and people just didn't talk about it.

Today a person I respect and admire enormously told me a story about a terrible marital disaster that occurred in the lives of close family members. He commented that he thought this stuff probably went on a lot more than we think, but people just don't talk about it.

I recall older novels where the single woman raises her actual child as an orphan and starts an orphanage just to be able to raise her secret child. (That one sticks with me especially because it was commented that this woman would have been considered beautiful if it hadn't been for her unfortunate red hair.) The "donor" married her sister. Then there is a Theodore Drieser novel, "An American Story" or something like that, where he hits the girl over the head with a shovel in a boat, and dumps her in the lake, a tidy way to solve the problem of his pregnant girlfriend.

Really, when you bother to think about it, those novels that are considered erotic or racy are portraying the tiniest instances of universal life. You might as well write a novel about the wonderful fork you used when you had dinner at the Carleton that time. Sometimes I kind of wonder how this many people have the time to fit in all this fucking and still carry on with what is considered normal life. I myself find the theoretical logistics mind boggling.

But still, in each individual case, the shock waves and historical repercussions can be so intense. You almost have to stop and ask yourself why.

Someone was doing research on whatever in the Bayous. He talked about how he saw this older couple a-settin' on the porch steps one afternoon and when he took the return journey a few hours later, the couple was  blatantly performing the rites of procreation on that very porch. Another person he interviewed said, "I don't know what's the fuss all about sex. It's just a squirt in the dark."

So, to tie up the frayed ends of today's treatise,  it seems that what I have to announce is a conclusion that you already may have reached on your own. You just don't talk about it.

There probably never was a sexual revolution. There is probably, percentage wise, the exact same amount of fucking going on that there has been since the dawn of time. The only thing that has changed is the way we talk about it.

Or write about it.

CTA:  What is your perspective on this?

Attention

This is just a curiosity.  Someone commented on a political thread that Israel with nuclear weapons (which, as an aside, they have) would be the most dangerous country in the world. This was a conversation among quite a few people and had been going on for days.  I could, of course, not help but interject that no, it was not.   Pakistan is.  And  I said don't let your attention be diverted here for too long.

No body argued or countered with me and I got a few likes.  I am so f-ing pithy, I sometimes amaze myself. I wonder sometimes why I don't write amazing psychological military thrillers.  Starting too late and too much research I guess.  Instead I write fluff.  Sometimes with undertones of thrilling military psychological drama.. (Teensy bit.)

Anyway.  My stats page shows my traffic sources on a world map.  I am dark green in US and the area formerly known as USSR.  Pale  Green in Brazil Area, light or dark green in UK and Australia and other parts of Europe. It changes a lot.  So today I was light green in Pakistan.  White in India and Afghanistan, which means no activity.  I am so glad someone noticed.

Teasing

It is somewhat frightening to me that non-techy, ancient me is so proficient at teasing up my blog hit count when ever it dips.  Lately, suffering from a newly discovered viral form of ennui (JK), I have not wanted to write much in this blog. 

The statistics on the Amazon site cause my mind to cower behind a nebulous gray curtain.  I apparently have a presence now and it is up to me to make it grow.  I have one more book in my head and if I write it down, what will I run through my brain at night in order to go to sleep? Besides, I have changed the focus of the book, a totally arbitrary situation which fluctuates with my location on the mania spectrum.  I have 25,000 words that I, of course, love, but it contains two disjointed threads that I have no idea of how to connect.  Is that sentence diagrammable?  I was thinking of bringing in God again for a three or four page aside as I personally find that so clever and amusing.

Also, because of what I deem political insanity, I have dropped out of some sites I used to frequent and enjoy.  The discourse with other like-minded individuals was frequently amusing and interesting, and they needed me on which to vomit out their bile which must now be backing up most unpleasantly.  But then I realized that they were, by and large, not at all like-minded but in fact were deluded individuals with some sort of Utopian mind set that I am unable to comprehend.  Maybe that is why I have such a huge presence in the Ukraine. Everyone is most assuredly entitled to their own opinions, and I find  that I am much more tolerant of other people's (peoples'?) ideas, or as I prefer to call them--delusions, but I certainly don't have to stand around and listen to them.  Besides, the people of this mind set to which I now refer are extremely intolerant of my clear thinking, logical and very humane philosophies.

And several of those people that I seem to have more of an understanding or, perhaps, camaraderie with continue to converse with me through other venues.  It is a strange phenomenon that needs to be explored that there are people on the web that you never meet or actually hear but you have the certain feeling that you "like" or "dislike" them.  For all I know they are actually lizard skinned horned aliens, (No.  Not you guys.  I love you and I think you are beautiful.)

Well, my point from which I so artfully digressed, (I have stopped herein to have pot roast with noodles and a frosty cold  MGD,) was that my disconnect from some certain circles has not affected my artificially inflated blog stats.  So, hang in here with me.  Some real gem may pop up here at any moment.  Although I think it unlikely that I will ever match the caliber of the cable guy post.

Let's see.  I must leave you with a CTA to which so very few of you respond.  Nevertheless, I feel obligated.

How best do you prefer your beef served?  Steak?  Burger?  Tartare?  Let me know.  I am hanging on the outcome.  I am crazy for pot roast.

GIFTS

My spouse brought me gifts today. An amazing LED trouble light for when I am pottering about in the out of doors after dark. No. We do not live in the wilderness. He also brought multipliers for my Christmas light cords. They used to call them cube taps but they are no longer cube shaped. The complexity of my outdoor holiday lighting project increases yearly. Not at all Clark Griswold. Very lovely and delicately artistic. I shall try to capture its essence to share with you but the lights in the dark photos haven't been too successful as yet. He also brought M&Ms in the darling collectible tin which Cassie and I recently admired at Wal Mart. Our minds boggled at the price. I have a vast collection of collectible tins. I don't know where it is. He brought Cassie her own collectible tin which, by the way, is jammed with four or five fun size bags of M&Ms.

My husband is a peach of a guy.

TA DAH!!!

Warning. . .

My friends, and you know you are my friends because my enemies don't travel in such small groups:


You know what they say about doing the same thing and expecting a different result?

Accreditation:  Okay.  None of this is mine.  Every single word was stolen.

Signing In

I like to go on many different sites to comment. I have always needed to stick my two cents in and it brings me lots of interesting blog traffic . I have been banned from Twana Blevins which I do not understand. I usually agree with her although I tend to be a little more conservative. I have occasionally commented to correct or to offer my opinion, and I have asked why I am banned but received no reply as yet.

Then there are many Wordpress sites that suddenly won't allow a Google blogger sign in. So I created a Wordpress blog. Still, many of my most astute remarks fall into a black hole and are not posted. This seldom occurs if I sign in through Twitter which speaks to me of the decline and fall of society. It also does make me paranoid.  But whatever. . .

An interesting thing happened today. Through The Rumpus, which won't let my comments in under any conditions, I linked to a site where the person said she wasn't knowledgeable about the subject so she posted a bunch of links about Israel bombing "Palestine". This is something about which I also have meager knowledge but strong opinion. I find it interesting at the very least. So I clicked through to one of the links. She presented five or six. The one I clicked to recognized me, on my iPhone, with no signing in process, and I had not signed into the Rumpus before I linked.   Now, sites like Totsy and One Kings Lane, which are stores that want your money, make signing in a tedious and difficult ritual. I find it so annoying I patronize them much less often than I would like. They are lovely sites for browsing, among others like them. So, to stop digressing and return to my initial premise for today's long-anticipated post, the political commentary site I logged into let me comment and posted the comment immediately with no spam detector puzzles and no wait for moderation. It was al-Jazeera.




photo courtesy of el-Jazeera on-line

Excerpt from The Maze

(an excerpt)

.  .  .

Barney wanted to try and talk to Maisie before he left, see how she was.  But Jenny said she was gone.  He never saw that steely look in Jenny’s eyes before.  It chilled him.  He felt his world was narrowing in on him.  He felt alone.  He wanted a drink, called his sponsor, talked it through, stayed strong, flew to Denver, Told Madalyn and Fiona not to pick him up.  He had to lease a car anyway.  Fiona was abrupt on the phone.  He didn’t pursue the subject.  Just made his way woodenly to the airport and to Madalyn’s.  She hugged him when she saw him and pressed her face into his neck, but she felt the change.  The voltage, the need, whatever it was, it was gone.  “You’re gonna need some time.  It’s okay, Barney.  I understand.”

“Do you, Mad?  Cuz I don’t.  I should feel relief.  The order for dissolution is already signed by both of us and notarized and ready to be presented to the court.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful.  I was worried.”

“Worried? That she’d fight it?  That she’d try to save her marriage?  No, Mad.  She didn’t.  She said it’s fine.  Whatever makes me happy.  No worries.  She’s strong.  No worries.  She’ll be fine.”

“She will.  We will.  She’s so young.  You weren't together that long.  .  .”

“That long?  We were together.  Now we’re not.  Everything is fine.  I’m free.  I can be with you now.  I told her I had to be with you now.”

“But?”

“But what?”

“What is going unsaid here?  This should be our moment.  But there’s an elephant in the room.  Isn't there?”

“I’m gonna stay at Fiona’s tonight.  I need to rest.  I need a space.”

“You need to be with me now.  That’s why you did this.  For us.”

“For us?  I’m going to Fiona’s.”

 ***

Fiona could only say to him, “I can’t talk about it, dad.  You have to deal with this on your own.  I love you and I try so hard to understand you, to at least see your point of view.  But I love Maisie and you guys were perfect.  Perfectly in tune.  I don’t see this thing with Madalyn at all.  And I knew her long before you met her.  How could it happen?  I can’t talk about it, dad.” She turned her back on him. 

  He was going to explain it was just the usual waking, half-drunk, to the awareness that his dick was in Madalyn’s mouth, but decided it wasn’t the kind of story you tell your daughter.  And Madalyn pushing the drinks on him had never before registered as being part of a plan of attack.  He was a guy.  It was a bj.  He was drunk.  Now what?

In the middle of the night, Fiona woke and saw the light in the family room.  Barney was staring at a silent television screen, an infomercial about a cookware set.  “Dad, you have to rest.”

“Please listen, Fiona.  Please.  I felt revulsion when she touched me.  What did I do?  Why did I do it?  I felt revulsion at my skin touching hers.  What have I done?”

“Dad.  Stay with her for a few days.  Take it slow.  It’s a big change.  You didn't expect this to be easy did you?”

“It was easy.  Maisie said she wants me to do what’s right for me.  Like she wants me to be with Madalyn?  Why would she want that?”

“That’s not what she said, dad.  She said she wants you to do what’s right for you.”

“But we were talking about me being with Madalyn.  Maybe Maisie knows better, knows I should be with Mad, knows she’s too young for me.  She started to seem so immature compared to Mad.  Like Maddie was on a path and knew what to do and where she was going.  And Maisie just floats along, letting stuff happen.”

“Yeah.  Right.  Stuff just floats by Maisie.  She just sits there.  Writes two more books, raises three kids, keeps a perfect house, cooks from  scratch, looks adorable, loves you to death, puts up with you.  Just floating.  And, I know you make a good living, so I won’t even go there, but, really, dad?  Supporting her?  How does that work?  Emotionally?  And you in the sack with the next bimbo in line?”

“That’s hitting way low, Fiona.  That’s not how it was.  And I know now I need to be with someone who is mature enough to see that you have to take care of the future, have goals.  You can’t just.  .  .”  His nose was getting all clogged up with backed up tears.

“Dad.  Rest.  Take time.  Wait ‘til the dust settles.  And I don’t want to give out advice, but you are not in a good place.  You aren't thinking of jumping into another marriage, are you?”

“The order of dissolution isn't a divorce.  After it's filed  the judge still has to issue the decree.”

“I know that, dad.”

“I told them to hold off filing and the JAG is my buddy.  But I’m just making excuses.  I’m so confused.”

“You have to spend time with Madalyn and sort out your feelings.  Maisie and the kids gone is a major upheaval for you.  Don’t rush.”

“I’m gonna talk to that doc friend of yours tomorrow.  Thanks, FiFi.  I think I can sleep now.  You don’t mind if I sack out here a couple of hours do you?”

“Couple of hours.  Couple of days.  Just take some time here.  Please?”

“Okay.  Yeah.  Okay.  Fuck.  It was like revulsion.  It made me think of that gecko.  I thought we had good chemistry.  I hope it was just a reaction.”

Walking back to her room Fiona thought, “Yeah, dad.  A  reaction.  Get a clue.  Pure carbohydrate chemistry, dad.  Booze and you know it.”

 ***

 He talked to the doctor the next day and had dinner with Madalyn.  She was glowing.  She knew when they made love again he would remember why he was here.  He’d know they were supposed to be together.  But she wondered why he wouldn't drink the martini, would only ask for more water.  They went back to her place and she moved toward him.  She teased at his shirt buttons, bit at his lips, started to unbutton her blouse.  He woodenly tried to get into it, remembered they’d really been hot for each other.  Knew it would kick in.  She was in great shape for her age.  Really good boob job.  Gorgeous silvery gray lingerie.  Maisie wore underpants, not lingerie.  This was what they called lingerie.  His mind wandered off.  “That grey tank top she always wore to bed with the little frayed bow.  .  .”

Madalyn touched him, looking for his response.  Drew her hand back in shock.  She was having no effect on him.  “It’s okay, Barney.  I know you need time.”  She went into the bedroom and took a couple of Ambien.  In the morning he was asleep on the couch, snoring, still dressed, rumpled, looking kind of awful, actually.

“I have to go talk to that doc again.  I gotta get in the shower.”  She followed him in and tried to make love to him.  He said, “I’m sorry, Mad.  I don’t  know what’s going on.  The doc will help me straighten this out.”  But Madalyn was pretty sure she already knew what was going on with Barney.

 ***

 Half way through the second hour with Barney, the doc laid it all out for him.  “You might be impotent because of the guilt or because it’s going too fast.  You expected to work through things with Maisie and process it all as you moved from one relationship to the other.  But you haven’t had the time to do that.  Maisie didn't cooperate.  She wouldn't give you time to process it.”

“But I was in the new relationship.  Maisie was right.  Our relationship was gone or I wouldn't have gotten into this new one, fallen in love with Maddie.’

“Listen to yourself, Barney.  You're giving yourself permission because Maisie said it’s okay.  You used the word ‘revulsion’.  That’s very telling.”

“Isn’t it normal to grieve for the old relationship? The loss of my family?”

“Sure it is, Barney.  Even the impotence.  Perfectly normal.  Text book.  You could hang around and see if your pecker responds.  I could write you a scrip for Viagra.  You can go through the motions.  Anyone can.  But revulsion? Thinking a couple of drinks would make that go away?”

“Yeah.  I was thinking that, but I know I can’t have that first drink.  Especially when things are so unsettled.  I’m in transition.  I have to process it.  I’m thinking alcohol was a mechanism in this.  I know I can’t blame it on that, but I’ve been very strong up until now.”

“You don’t want to think Madalyn plied you with drinks to bring down your defenses.  You want me to say you have to be accountable for your own actions.  You already know that and I’m not going to say it.  I’ve met you socially and professionally through Fiona—seen you with Maisie, counseled you, partied with you, heard stories from Fee about your whole family.  Once again, there is that conflict of the personal and the professional.  You’re here for my professional opinion today so I’ll try not to let this get personal.  But I feel it’s my obligation to say Madalyn has a reputation in this town and we all watched in shock that she was doing it to you.  If you are sure you love her and want to be with her—well, that’s a possibility we must consider.  But I think your affair with Madalyn was a symptom.  You don’t sound like you’re in love with her.  You sound like you’re trying to sell me on it, Barney.  This isn't a ‘you and Madalyn’ problem.  It’s a continuation of the ‘you and Maisie’ problem.  You're still afraid to let little Maisie hold your balls in her hands.  You have to prove to yourself and to her that you and nobody else has control over your manhood.  It’s classic Jung.  It’s cliche'  mid-life crisis.  I've never before been pissed off at a patient.  You’re what? Forty eight?  Grow the fuck up, Barney.  Give the intimacy to the person you love and need.  Throw away the fear.  You don’t need to have fear.  You need to trust the one you love with your feelings.”
“You’re not talking about Madalyn.  You’re talking about Maisie.”

"Wow, Barney.  You didn't even need to put that in question form  Get the fuck out of my office.  I have a loaded gun in my desk."

Best Times

 I wonder if it would detract from it if we knew what we were experiencing was going to be one of the best times in our lives.  I know many times I have said and heard others say, "I had the best time."  Or, "I am having the best time." but in retrospect, you don't know if it is the best time of your life until you have all the other times to compare it to.

I'm quite a bit older than most of you, and I strongly feel that the best times of my life are in the past.  I find it discouraging but believe it.  When my daughter was in college she had an apartment on Sheridan Road.  (That is a well-known street if you know Chicago.)  I think waving to Ben in the window as I walked to my car and eating at the Italian restaurant across the street and talking to the chubby waiter who was so glad to be talking to us are the best times I can remember so far.  They are like huge photographs on the wall of my life.  Crystal clear.

There are many other wonderful moments but none that stand out like those two.  I am sure it is because of where I was in my life and the fact that everything seemed so vital and on-rushing.

My dad was by for Sunday dinner again and it is something that I feel more and more I must do.  But it is something that I become more and more discouraged by.  He has had a colorful and very good life.  He  worked very hard, but he has also been very very fortunate.  I truly believe that is at least half of the equation.  Now, it is like he looks at his life through the wrong end of the telescope.  I have a lot of terrible and some not so terrible stuff going on in my life right now that I mostly cannot talk about.  But you must believe me when I say it is totally distracting.  And his focus is so narrow.  He no longer has any concept of "life" as it is in the universal scheme of things.  (Do any of us?)  And--he can't hear--if I were to relate any of this problematic stuff to him, he would say, "It'll all work out for the best."  Or, "That happens to everyone."  Or some other stale, useless comment. And it is more than depressing to hear him go on and on about how he is not really living anymore. Life is no fun anymore.  Especially when you see pictures on the internet of an acquaintance's infant hooked up to a bunch of tubes to keep him alive.

But, in truth, there really is nothing anyone can say that will make pain go away.  Nothing but time.  I hope I have enough time that these dreadful moments I am living will pale in comparison to the bright and lovely memories I cherish.

I never recall feeling like I had a personal stake in the election.  Actually, I don't. I am at a point that, regardless of who is elected, my life will go on much the same on a day to day basis.  And probably, when I am on the death list I will be asking to be moved up closer to the top.  And maybe I won't have to live to see my grand daughter wearing a burkha or taking her girl babies to be circumcised.  Whoa, you are thinking.  Here goes Ditty off her nut again.  Uh uh.  Stoning of Christians in Dearborn, Michigan.  And the police chief says, "Well, you shouldn't be here.  What did you expect?" This is not sanctioned battles to the death in the arenas of the gladiators.  This is a picnic in the state across the lake from me.  Get real folks.  History is on the line here.  Not just my boring personal day to day existence.  I feel fear.

What are the best times of your life? Are you waiting for them to happen?  Are they behind you?  Do you see better days ahead for any of us?  For yourself?

Again

Once more, an incident of a beautiful human life, lost at age 21 to a heroin overdose has entered the space of our lives. The person close to him was involved at the end and sobbed when the young man's dad knelt at the bedside, touching and stroking his son's face, saying over and over while crying, "my sweet little boy."


That is who these people are. They were someone's baby, someone's mischievous  toddler. Three dead.
Aubrey who spent almost three years sleeping and eating at my home. She was always hungry. She grew to be a beautiful young woman.  Now she is dead.

Another, at a party a family member was attending, felt funny after Jäger shots and cocaine and went out for some fresh air. Died in the parking lot, run over by an unsuspecting girl who was not charged. He was already dead. This was a good kid who died because he never used cocaine before and his pals encouraged him.

The father of one of my grandchildren, in the hospital at least four times ODed. You know they survive in greater numbers if you find them in time. They have some counter acting shot now. Live to try again. In and out of prison, and in this case, making babies all over the county.


A neighbor's boy I watched grow up, a troubled kid, in and out of jail, rehab, ODed right after getting out of prison. He wasn't used to it after being away. They saved him. His loving, wonderful mother lost her marriage, her home, trying to help him. He is back in prison. Addicted again he resorted to robbery.

I live in a very nice middle class neighborhood about 40 miles from Chicago. Not many Cadillacs, no Mercedes, lots of Chevies and Fords, vans and pick-ups mostly.  But there are communities nearby that are a readily available source of any drug you might want or need.  Every time they bring the dogs in to search the middle and high schools they have at least one hit.  Middle school.  Sixth grade?

These are not kids that run with gangs or live on the street. The mom of the most recent one said she'd been dealing with it since he was fifteen, finding him out cold with a needle laying right next to him on his bed many times over six years.  She always went back to check when she found him passed out but this time the second or third time she checked him she noticed his breathing was shallow and called the EMT.  The doctor on staff reprimanded her for not bring him in sooner.  Weeping over the loss of her son, blame was the last thing she needed.

A little boy I babysat for grew up to have severe mental illness and tried over and over to off himself.  I wondered to someone, why isn't the fact that it hurts his mom, his sons, enough to change that?  I can't understand the answer that "they are too far gone."  Well, now they are too far gone.  They are dead. And in one of the cases I mentioned, that was not typical,  the media decided to make an example of it anyway and find someone to arrest. The boy was not a "user".  It was just a bunch of kids having fun at a party.  Fun.  Dead.

If I know this many just in my limited sphere, how often must this be going on?  We take up banners for so many different causes, but I have adopted the "mend your own fences" philosophy.   When one of my daughters was in high school I was summoned by a counselor because my daughter, a fast track student, was going out with a guy that was kind of wild.  During the conversation I said, "I've decided I can't save them all."  She gave me such a look like I must be the most cold-hearted bitch, but when I thought I could save them all I suffered terribly.

You can't save them all.  And you can't pick the one's you lose -- the "sweet little boy" who died in the very bed that was his big boy bed when he was two, the very same bedroom where the broken-hearted father mourned the loss of his little boy, his son.  Why didn't that boy care enough to not bring that pain to his dad?  More and more I think this is becoming a problem that cannot be handled by law enforcement.  Well, we know it can't be handled by law enforcement.  They have made no progress in the fight and they are over whelmed and at a loss as how to handle it.

Maybe neurologists need to explore what little glitch in the brain goes awry that makes this happen to that little boy riding his tricycle in the driveway of his home. These people, though maybe grown up, I still think of them as kids and always will, will never grow up to build the thorny, hardened protection that we older folks have around our hearts. I hope they have found peace.  I haven't.



photo source:
http://www.gettingbabytosleephq.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/SleepingBabyWithDad.jpg

A scrivener

I have been so down on this writing thing.  Many I know are giving up the epub thing and I am growing discouraged.  At least I was. 

Last night I practiced discipline in an undisciplined way.  I have heard: "Write, no matter what.  Save it erase it, fix it, just write."  So I did.  I typed so fast.  It is a disorderly mess.  But I am looking at this story in a way that seems new to me.  I want to get the people from this point to this point and I don't know how.  I never had that problem before.  But I don't sell much, so maybe my readers have a problem with how I was doing it.  Anyway, I wrote about what happened when they got there and I know I can put in the interim easily when I am ready.  Writing doesn't scare me.  Carrying out  a task does, I am guessing.  I am maybe just lazy.  Anyway I thought it was great fun and it raced along in getting on the page just as the part of the story was racing along.  It is full of typos, but that is easy to fix.  I think.

So just when I am all down on my self and my skills and thinking I am not posting, I have no ideas, I am in the doldrums, physical junk going on, family junk going on, weather weirdness, I just now looked and my "boring post" had ninety five hits. 

Don't anyone tell me what this is all about cuz you don't know.  It is all totally random.  That is final. 

Boring stuff used as an excuse.

No matter what kind of day you are having, this should brighten it up.

In other news, it is so unbelievably warm here today.  One little impatiens blossomed in the midst of all the wilted greenery around it.  I think they said it was eighty.  I had about twenty bulbs left over that I couldn't find room for, so I was going to give them to Fran.  I dug a hole by one of the trees in the front yard and put them in, in a somewhat orderly fashion.  Last Spring I recall saying, "Oh, I don't remember putting those in."  So I am sure this Spring I will once again be pleasantly surprised.  Fran wouldn't have time for them anyway. 

I asked Louie if I could use the leaf  blower just so I could be out and the leaves are ankle deep, but he won't let me touch it.  It is so mechanically complicated a mere woman would f--- it up.  Right? So unfair just because I sever the electric supply cord every year or so with the hedge trimmer.  My hedges have wonderful, carefully wrought shapes now.

Orthopedically updating, the doctor said the crack in the knee cap is because some of the cement is separating  but it hasn't changed since last year.  It is still a bit disconcerting to hear about all the cement and titanium within me.  And I can go to a sports medicine doc and have some of the scar tissue broken up arthroscopically which will make bike riding and getting out of the car a bit easier.  I am peculiarly excited about that.

Told you it was boring.  Just wanted to give the pic world wide exposure.

Low Spirits

This is a total cut and paste from the Futility Closet, a site that has two or three short articles that really remove me from my present state, most particularly if it is ennui. I believe it to be very therapeutic in a positive way, although I don't really know if something can be therapeutic in a negative way.  I personally would recommend that everyone keep Futility Closet in their mailbox and refer to it when you need a refreshing breath of air. in your brain. The content is sometimes practical, sometimes whimsical. This entry is charming and completely relevant.

“Advice Concerning Low Spirits”

A letter from Sydney Smith to Lady Georgiana Morpeth, Feb. 16, 1820:

Dear Lady Georgiana,– Nobody has suffered more from low spirits than I have done — so I feel for you. 1st. Live as well as you dare. 2nd. Go into the shower-bath with a small quantity of water at a temperature low enough to give you a slight sensation of cold, 75° or 80°. 3rd. Amusing books. 4th. Short views of human life — not further than dinner or tea. 5th. Be as busy as you can. 6th. See as much as you can of those friends who respect and like you. 7th. And of those acquaintances who amuse you. 8th. Make no secret of low spirits to your friends, but talk of them freely — they are always worse for dignified concealment. 9th. Attend to the effects tea and coffee produce upon you. 10th. Compare your lot with that of other people. 11th. Don’t expect too much from human life — a sorry business at the best. 12th. Avoid poetry, dramatic representations (except comedy), music, serious novels, melancholy, sentimental people, and everything likely to excite feeling or emotion, not ending in active benevolence. 13th. Do good, and endeavour to please everybody of every degree. 14th. Be as much as you can in the open air without fatigue. 15th. Make the room where you commonly sit, gay and pleasant. 16th. Struggle by little and little against idleness. 17th. Don’t be too severe upon yourself, or underrate yourself, but do yourself justice. 18th. Keep good blazing fires. 19th. Be firm and constant in the exercise of rational religion. 20th. Believe me, dear Lady Georgiana,
Very truly yours,
Sydney Smith

Bit Torrent Usage

Some respected groups, Mises for one I am familiar with, will only post their links through  bit torrent sites. In their case, it is because of their philosophy. There is a months long debate on their site over intellectual property rights. There is  a specific area some law firms specialize in: intellectual property rights law. Copyright to your work in the U.S., at least, that I know of is granted by the Constitution. Yet, it usually goes unchallenged unless someone is gaining from your work and you challenge them in court. This is a shady and fearful place for me. I am an avid user of Pinterest for one thing, and have been challenged already for something I posted there. In most cases, when legally challenged, the non-authorized user settles with the originator for cash rather than go to court. I feel this is unfortunate as it needs to be defined in a court of law and the yardstick by which it is measured should be what the non-authorized party "gained" from it which is usually not monetarily measurable. But most of us schlubs cannot afford to engage in such a battle.

All three books of the Shades of Gray trilogy are available for free download somewhere on the Net and well-known bloggers have  posted the link. I, for one, tho curious, would not hand out money for those particular books and would be tempted to use that method. But I have heard bit torrent sites are heavily monitored for National Security issues and stuff like child pornography. I don't think I have ever downloaded from one and my natural tendency for paranoia would be what stops me. Yet people who can well afford to meet legal challenges and are well-respected use them with no qualms. It is something to do with PTP which is person to person, I believe, and by passes servers. Explain if you know cuz I have only a brushing acquaintance with the technology and prefer to try to forget those explanations. But it is the belief in Open Sourcing that drives it. For instance Mises featured a guy who would give you all the plans to build your own farming equipment which is an amazing thing. He talked about buying a used tractor and trying to pay it off while paying for repairs and not being a success because of it. So he built his own and it has worked out for him and he feels every one should have that access and opportunity. That is pure free enterprise which sounds to me like the opposite of socialism.

What do you think? Do you or would you use a bit torrent download? When would you look at it as stealing? What would influence your opinion? The value of someone's work? The loss to the originator? Your need for the work? Your political beliefs about ownership and rights?  If the originator freely offers you the right that is a different issue. I am talking about books, music, plans, photos, etc. where the use is designed to give the originator benefit. Complex situation to me. Cut and dried theft? Maybe -- maybe not. Please weigh in. Thanks.

Positive review

Review by: BOB MC DANIEL on Oct. 09, 2012 : (no rating) 

A great read!!
Comments, opinions and advice we can all relate to.
As you read through it you can here the Men saying "Never.
and, Not me." While all of the ladies are screaming "Oh my God, YES!!!"
MS. Llorca reminds me a bit of Gail Collins with a dash of possibly Joan Rivers thrown in. No matter who you are, you'll read and accept as gospel. I'd recommend it to one and all

(reviewed within a month of purchase)



http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/233639
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0098R9HPK

Thank You!!

Confidence

I am afraid this post may be premature as it ties in with my latest release, OUTSIDE PLUMBING, which has only been out a few days, but it is too much with me and I have to write it now.

This is a picture that I first saw on Pinterest.  I am obsessed with it, partly because I wore that kilt as a skirt throughout my college years and actually some years after until it became horribly de trop.  I wore it so much I had to take it to a cobbler and have new leather straps put on it.  It wasn't an actual kilt but an imitative fashion item and had crummy straps on it from the manufacturer.  But it looked exactly like these.  I think that is tartan Campbell. It may be in the cedar chest as I loved it too much to ever part with it.

I recently published a non-fiction book called Outside Plumbing; the Myths of Manhood.  In it I wryly discuss at length, with anecdotal support, my theory that men have an innate vulnerability that females can never understand.  Because their sexual equipment is so exterior, they are always aware, even if subconsciously, of the need to protect it.  It is the necessary equipment to propagate the Human Race, a genetic imperative.  It must remain intact and healthy.   I actually discussed the kilt and the sporran in the book.

In this picture the guy to our left has the sporran hanging slightly to the side.  It is usually worn front and center.  Historically, like the codpiece, it was originally for protective purposes but evolved into a decorative and utilitarian object.  This guy could give less than  damn about protecting his genitalia. He is clearly announcing his utter confidence in his manhood.  Also, his arms are extended from his body to take advantage of the heat.  His chin is raised and his shoulders are slightly held back.  He is in an utterly non-defensive, vulnerable posture. Further, the actual flames, as photographed, are heading straight for his basic male superstructure. OMG.   

(I so wanted to say the flames are licking at him, but I felt that might be putting too fine a point on it.)

This guy is the hunk of all time as far as I am concerned and he exhibits confidence and maleness at every conceivable level.  I drool.

The guy to our right looks like he may be the brother.  Doesn't matter.  His muscles are actually more finely cut than the other guy's.  But his shoulders and upper body are leaning ever so slightly forward, his chin tilted slightly down and his hands are crossed in from of him in what I call the normal protective manner which any man seems to exhibit whenever he feels the least self-conscious.

Not that I wouldn't bid on either of them at a charity auction.  They are both gorgeous.  And one may well not be more self-confident than the other.  It is just that this photo illustrates so very clearly what I consider the males' relationship with his most basic manhood.

If I were 31 years old and knew what I know now and looked like I did then, I would be on the very next  plane to Scotland.


(I have unsuccessfully tried to source the photo).

Invisibility

So often I feel invisible, and it turns out I am.  When he discusses our cells, if you look closely at our atoms and electrons, there is nothing visible.

I offer the theory that scientists know more about this than they tell us.  Did you see the video of the guy climbing in the tank?

http://youtu.be/8EUy_82IChY

If you are not in a thoughtful mood, don't bother watching this.

Lost in Translation.

When I do a give away promotion, I try to hit the foreign Amazon forums.  I get more downloads from Germany each time.  I have heard the U.S. military has a large presence there.  I got about 72 downloads from Germany this time and  two from France and one from Spain.  I have had one each from them before.  I got one from Italy once, but not this time.  Anyway, this time I put "let me know of replies" at the end of my message in the German forum.  For some reason, I found this adorable.  Translated by google, I believe.:


Hello love Samira , 
many thanks for all the posted books, I also have my Kindle yet so long, and I whim times fantasy or love or even have a good thriller read I am grateful for every book.
And to contents would I will only say that a book sounds very interesting and then behind her terribly reads. That has often happened to me so I've previously brought many books from the library, thanks to the Kindle has become the smuggling done now. 
Wish you a great holiday and many relaxed hours of reading. 
Greetings Tina

Out of Wine

Well, I gave myself permission to whine and vent here when I made this blog.  And, the Lord knows, I  have done a heap of it.  I just want you all to know that some stuff in my life is amazingly wonderful.

Actually, it is a pretty good balance.  But that would be a boring blog.

Wonderful Review

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  Roy M. York

  I recommend Virginia Llorca's new book, "Outside Plumbing". A woman's unpretentious view of us males. Women will enjoy it, men will cringe and even try to argue with her unsupported anecdotal claims. I could, but I won't, because I can't write with the same unvarnished honesty found in her words. Her uncannily accurate skewering of the male species is fairly on the money.
  
  As a writer, I am in awe of her ability to pretty much lay it on the line, something I am unable to do. She leaves bodies scattered in her wake as she careens along the ocean of life with her hydroplane wit, some of whom will recognize themselves in the thinly disguised veil of anonymity in which she wraps them.
  
  Having just finished the book, I intend to wait a few days before I go back and try to find myself in there. But for now, I've got some dishes to do and plan for tonight's dinner, then there are beds to make, floors to mop, you get the idea. Read the book. I know for sure it's available on www.Smashwords.com. You'll be glad you did.

  
  

  

  
  

  
  

  (Also on Amazon for Kindle)

  
  

THE MAZE

The Maze, by Virginia Llorca, is FREE to download from Amazon through October 6, 2012., for electronic download to Kindle and Kindle apps.  Some mature content.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0061SB3TC

What do you do when you encounter an unexpected bump in the road of your life?  Panic?  Reach for help?  If you pride yourself on making good choices, you may give the subject more attention than it deserves.

At a crossroads in her life, Maisie lets someone make a difficult choice for her.  She is very happy with the outcome, but can it be the best solution in the long run?

Pressured by her family and friends to take the next step in her life after successfully completing her education and launching her career, Maisie figures a helicopter landing on the lawn must presage something important.

Always happy to live with her decisions, how will she do when she tries to be the answer to someone else's dilemma?