Saturday, August 25, 2007
Good morning, blog readers:
I had thought I was wasting my time on blogging. But, then, I had a couple people tell me they read blog entries, so I figured someone was reading this stuff. There's not much new to report, really....and, if there is, it's bad. Not heartattack bad. more "God's flushing the toilet on me again" bad. Was leaving work yesterday and got rear-ended in the parking lot (please, no homosexual jokes here). Fortunately, he hit my spare tire (I drive a Jeep LIberty and the tire is mounted to the back door). It bent the tire mount, but didn't seem to harm the door. I got a call from the bike mechanic working on my motorcycle. He told me to pray for my motorcycle. He's kind of the king of gloom and doom, though, so I'm hoping he's incorrect.
On the writing side, I have less than a month now till the completion of ALL SUMMER LONG, my poetry collection. I have written at least a poem a day all this summer and will continue to do so. I finally got an idea for the BIG MUDDY MONSTER movie that I could wrap my mind around and am half way through the script. MURDER AT PK'S is also drawing near completion, and BLEEDING HEARTS, a rather interesting murder mystery, is at least half way done now. I'm also going to start printing the anthology, HELL IN THE HEARTLAND, next week (assuming I get the contract okays from the last three writers). So, I'm keeping myself busy. I might run up to DuQuoin to see shock rock legend Alice Cooper tonight if I can find a babysitter.
I'll let you know how it went.
till then, keep on blogging.
Roger
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
John Paul Trexler R.I.P.
I've been writing a book of poetry lately. I started it on the first day of summer and will finish it on the last day of summer. It's called, quite originally, I might add, ALL SUMMER LONG. For the most part, it's been about the lost Lenore of my life, my soon-to-be ex-wife Jen, but tomorrow is my dad's birthday. He died in 1989 at the ripe old age of 50. I wrote him this poem tonight. I hope you enjoy it.
Roger
FATHERHOOD
Used to think
My father hated me
I knew he hung his head
In shame
At times
He didn’t understand
That I was cut
From a different cloth
Than he
Still a man
But different
I had a different destiny
Than him
No grander
Nor less
A man
Than anyone else
Equal
No better than his humble
Beginnings
I remember the day
I got the call
My brother
Crying
Dad was gone
I drove over and
Saw
The indignity
Death had brought him
Alone
Dead
Face down
Buttermilk still on his lips
I remember thinking
We would never have
A peace
Between us
—but, I was wrong
we have peace now
I look into my son’s eyes
And see
Me
Or a shadow
Of who I used to be
In his smile
In his ways
And I know
I know
I see it so clearly now
Now that the fog
Has lifted from my heart
Fatherhood
Knows no shame
Only love
Regardless of machismo
Regardless of circumstance
Unconditional
And complete
And he only hung his head
In shame
Because he felt ashamed
Of who he was
A poor country boy
With enough pride
To fill a river
And not shame for me
Regardless of what I thought when I was young
And, now, I know,
He should never have been ashamed
Of who he was,
A good man,
Brought up under difficult circumstances
Hardened by life
And the lessons
He had learned from it
Toughest man I ever knew
And the most tender
And the most human
—He was my father.
Roger
FATHERHOOD
Used to think
My father hated me
I knew he hung his head
In shame
At times
He didn’t understand
That I was cut
From a different cloth
Than he
Still a man
But different
I had a different destiny
Than him
No grander
Nor less
A man
Than anyone else
Equal
No better than his humble
Beginnings
I remember the day
I got the call
My brother
Crying
Dad was gone
I drove over and
Saw
The indignity
Death had brought him
Alone
Dead
Face down
Buttermilk still on his lips
I remember thinking
We would never have
A peace
Between us
—but, I was wrong
we have peace now
I look into my son’s eyes
And see
Me
Or a shadow
Of who I used to be
In his smile
In his ways
And I know
I know
I see it so clearly now
Now that the fog
Has lifted from my heart
Fatherhood
Knows no shame
Only love
Regardless of machismo
Regardless of circumstance
Unconditional
And complete
And he only hung his head
In shame
Because he felt ashamed
Of who he was
A poor country boy
With enough pride
To fill a river
And not shame for me
Regardless of what I thought when I was young
And, now, I know,
He should never have been ashamed
Of who he was,
A good man,
Brought up under difficult circumstances
Hardened by life
And the lessons
He had learned from it
Toughest man I ever knew
And the most tender
And the most human
—He was my father.
Saturday, August 11, 2007
closing in
It's football season soon, my friends, and that means my buddies Rick Kelley, Edwin Newton and Kevin Spurlock are all about the game. I've never been much of a sports fan (yeah, I know....one of my many birth defects.....just ask my soon to be ex-wife) but we usually participate in an online football dream team (it's named something different but I don't want to go look it up right now) on the Fox Sports website. I signed up and jokingly called my team "The Scrotums". The draft is on August 18th and I'll try to keep an eye on my team just for poops and giggles. It'll give me something to break up the monotony of my life these days.
I'm watching the kids all weekend and my singular goal is to get the second draft of HELL IN THE HEARTLAND ready to send out to the authors. I hope to publish the book the first week of September and it'll make its debut at Twilight Tales on September 10th (with any luck). Cross your fingers.
Anyway, I'll post more soon.
Later
Roger
Friday, August 3, 2007
Another Publication
I have another short story that just came into print. The story is entitled "Roadwork" and is in an anthology called RAW MEAT. "Roadwork" is a story with a rather interesting history. It is, perhaps, my most accepted and still unpublished (till now) short story. I wrote the tale waaaayyyyy back in 1987 and it was accepted by three different small press magazines. Unfortunately, as with many small press mags, the magazine died before the story saw print. That, plus I quit writing in 1992 and didn't start up again till fall 2004. Shortly thereafter, I sent "Roadwork" out again. It found a home quickly. It took over 2 years for RAW MEAT to get into print, but it is now. You can order a copy from SIDESHOW PRESS, 10 Withey Hill Rd, Moosup, CT 06353 or contact sideshowpress@yahoo.com. I also believe the antholgy is being sold through www.shocklines.com and www.bloodlettingbooks.com.
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Too Bad On Your Birthday
Morning readers,
Well, today is my 46th birthday. To be honest, I never figured I'd live this long. Always thought I'd die young and leave a good-looking corpse. Too late for that now, I reckon, so might as well live life as fully as I can. The kids are staying home with me today. My daughter Hope asked me if it was all right for her to miss her daycare so she could stay home. It made me feel good that she'd rather be with me on my birthday. I figure I'll let them sleep in late this morning (they're still sleeping now) and then we'll go down to Schnucks and get a doughnut. Later on, I'll probably take them down to Quatro's pizza for lunch (they both love Quatro's). Then, maybe in the afternoon we'll go out to Cedar Lake and bask in the sun for a while. Maybe we'll go see the Simpson's Movie this evening (Darrien calls it the "spider-pig" movie because of the trailer on television). It'd be nice to have a woman to have and hold later, but I guess I should just be happy with the fact that I have two wonderful children who love my imperfect arse. Count your blessing while you can, my friends.....you never know if you'll be here this time next year.
Have a good day. I'm going to try to make mine special for my children and I.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)