We fight for the fine places we make in this world

This blog is where I come when I feel a soapbox moment happening, or to loose an idea or to rage over some miniature catastrophe with tongue firmly planted in one cheek while the vodka drenched olives hold tightly to the other. And then last week happened, and so I don’t feel much like camping out as Cayman Thorn today.

There was little Nichole Kristine Cable, who we came to know inside the desperate hours of her too short life. She only got fifteen years because a sick bastard lied her away from the house, and there’s no way you can wrap your head around this case without wanting to scream. My initial reaction is to curse the door that our connected world has opened. But I realize it’s not that easy. I realize that the worst laid plans of people do not concern themselves with convenience so much as they concern themselves with doing bad things, no matter the avenue they have to take to get there.

My reasoning self was justified and my scream stifled when I witnessed the rolled up sleeves I found across WordPress during the search for Nichole. Bloggers pressing their re-blog button, and showing me why a virtual neighborhood can matter every bit as much as the white picket fence variety. Hey, the only sense this world really makes, is that which we give to it.

What happened in Oklahoma is a humbling reminder that we don’t have the last word, despite our top of the food chain existence. Because the truth is, Mother Nature’s name is on the deed and we’re just renting. The proof of this was supplied by pictures of a town that went the way of a bad science fiction ending. And so it was heartening to see all the help that moved in just as swiftly as the tornado which had taken so much away. Cayman Thorn and I would agree on one count. Give.

I’ve never been to Colorado, but I have a solid education on the place thanks to a gal who possesses more back story on the Rocky Mountains than Sacajawea. Susie Lindau is a renaissance woman of the hottest order, with a To Do list that runs chapters long and never goes stale. She’s a one woman band, whose wild ride blog treats readers to heaping spoonfuls of love on everything from skiing to tennis to Christmas card making.

Susie shared her reality with all of us in a post this week. And I can’t go somber on this, because if I do, she’s going to fly in simply to kick my ass and fly back out. And there is nothing worse than having to pick someone up at the airport just so they can kick your ass.

Kicking ass is what Susie is going to be doing to the C word. Seriously, you mess with the bull, you get the horns AND Colorado, AND Danny. And all of us.  If you need more backup than that? You’re a shit screenwriter rehashing an ’80s cop show who’s hogging up all the Wi-Fi at your 7-11, so nuke that Hot Pocket and take the Asst Managers job at Target already!

As for backup, we got your back, Susie. All of us, from here to there and every other single place in between.

We love you. Much and always. For teaching us the one simple thing in a world gone mad.

Love wins.

Reality Writes

reality-blog-award4amWriter nominated me for a “Reality Blog Award”, which is ironic considering as how I blog under a pseudonym. Lucky for me this award doesn’t hold my identity crisis against me. And even luckier still is having a writer such as 4am call me out for something she does so very well: Which is to write in the real way of things.

This award is all about tapping into the world you’re moving through and extracting the flavor through your keyboard. It’s not easy, picking through the remains of the day and making sunshine of it, but it’s a thing us writers are willing to die trying.

This 4am chica knows of this try that defines a writer’s struggle to hit oil, and it’s a very cool thing to have her hanging around Drinks Well. She’s a damn good writer who owns a company of words that work really hard and whose profits run bonus time for her readers. Sorry, I tend to go heavy on the metaphors when I dig the regulars.

Now, there are five relatively serious questions which accompany this award, and here they is . . .

1- If you could change something what would you change?- I would make the McRib sandwich fat free.

2) If you could relive one day, when would that be?- The day my son was born. And the day my daughter was born. I know . . that’s two. Sue me.

3) What one thing really scares you? Something terrible happening to either of my children. (This was 4am’s entry, to which, as a parent, I’m quite seriously in agreement on).

4) What one dream have you not completed yet and do you think you will be able to complete it?- Building a tree house.

5) If you could be someone else for the day, who would you be?-  I’m sticking with the guy who got me to here.

Okay, as per the rules of being nominated, I’ve gotta single out a few nominees who keep things real. And since I cannot help myself, I’m gonna channel my best New Englandah in the doing. Hey, I was born in Fort Apache the Bronx and I grew up loving all things Yankees, while 4am is a New England girl who probably believed in the Yaz before Santa. Whenever these two sides can come together without weapons being involved? It’s a very, very cool thing.

So heeaah then, tha nominees as selected by me, Cayman Thawn.

Susie LindauShe’s a wild ridah. Evidently in Colorado, that’s legal. This bloggah is big on photagraphs that have nuthin’ ta do with mugshots. It’s different.

Guapola He’s looking to catch the next big wave, ‘cos in New Yawk . . that’s legal! He’s also a Mets fan, and all I gotta say ta that is . . it took me eighteen yeeahhs to get ovah ’86!

Adventures of a Dog MomShe’s got maw dogs on hah blog than the Yanks have in thea lineup. And thea much cutah.

The Wish Factor– Guat is from Sothan Californiaw, which must be nice considering as how I’m freezing my ass off currently. If she wasn’t such a good writah, I’d be throwing a Grady Little hex on hah.

aFrankAngleHe loves cahtoons, as do I. He reads The Onion which is like made up news . . ya know, sowta like tha Bawstan Globe. Oh, he’s a Reds fan, and all I gotta say ta that is . . it took my pop twenty nine yeeahhs to get ovah ’75!

Fantasy FurnaceHe covahs spots tha way Damon used ta cover centah field faw us. Until the Yanks signed him and he cut his haaih, the bum.

And here’s one for you, 4am. Thanks much, and write big. And of course, keep it real.

Walking into a Writing Exercise (or) I’ll be here all week . . .

The Walking Dead series is the most fun I’ve had with zombies since The Osbournes debuted.

Micro-review of Walking Dead season finale: You go Rick, lay down that law! This was becoming a whinier bunch of survivors than that reality show on CBS.

As a result, I came up with a zombie inspired five part mini-series. But that wasn’t good enough. To wit, I needed a challenge. Susie over at Wild Ride does it all the time, these writing exercises and flash fiction joints. It’s what makes her such a fun bit of mayhem. This blog serves as my writing exercise- helpful whether I am at a loss or on a roll.

So I thought to myself . . .”Self? Why not fuse a dash of WordPress with a pinch of Twitter and set it for broil?”

Micro-flash fiction.

Five posts in the series. One hundred words per post. Five hundred words. Total. Simone Benedict seems to abide by this unspoken rule of blogging. Her posts are crisp, her notes fresh and the education is sans a dissertation. I used to blather on and on, but she taught me a valuable lesson about blogging.

Keep it short and sweet.

So to Susie and Simone, thank you. I decided to push this fictional envelope thanks to your gifted examples.

For the main character, I went with Damon. The idea being that a strong name might plant an idea in the reader’s head that would spiral, thereby doing some of the leg work for me. Give him a love interest . . . no, two. One lost and one found. I learned this one on the fly, as I was originally going to keep it to the new girl. But when I incorporated his memory of the lost love into it, this gave the new girl definition.

Alright, so the secrets I used and/or stumbled onto aside, where’s the rub?

Glad you asked. My challenge was to develop this Damon character in five hundred words. To carry him from the depths of his inner turmoil, through his fight to stay alive in a world seemingly devoid of hope, and from there to navigate a fast friendship turned tryst, which of course is followed by the requisite guilt which fuels his last ditch effort to make a go of it by somehow providing a means of survival, a suicidal mission which leads to redemption.

Oh, and he saves the world.

The result is a five part zombie series in miniature. Granted, there are more holes than the Titanic at rush hour, but my goal was achieved nonetheless. To stretch my writing legs a bit and to mingle with a couple of different characters. To have fun.

I’ll be posting this five-parter starting tomorrow and running through the end of the week. If it sucks, look at it this way . . it’s only eighteen seconds out of your day and it still beats the hell out of reading up on the GOP Death Race 2012.

Hmmm, now there’s an idea . . .