As a little kid my imagination was out of control. Everything meant something
in my little kenniverse of a brain. Funny how some things never change.
With that said, in the kenniverse, Wednesday is actually better known as Kennsday so…
Happy Kennsday, Friends.
This is in NO way an endorsement of Taco Smell but I think this is such the hilarious commercial. I love the part where the dude sings in falsetto, “if you hate filling out your timesheets.” Continue reading →
These dreams, these fiends, these tweens and cut scenes
Expectations of mere titles and necessities of a spleen
These winter Monday’s in June are reminiscent of a fifth quarter
Should I slay myself again or ask a bigger God to expand my borders?
These sorrowed nights and broken glass and drafts from underneath
Give greater cause to perpetuate and greater cause to do more than be
These falls, these stalls, these empty halls and caterwauls
Apprehension’s got me hopeful while my bladder has the gall.
“Never regret. If it’s good – it’s wonderful. If it’s bad – it’s experience.”
The other day I put my friend, James, on blast for not following through on his NaNoWriMo commitment BUT he got the humor and point of it all.
In case you didn’t get the chance yet, I think you should check his blog out.
So I recently completed my first novel and I’m excited about the home that it will find as I actively seek out an agent to represent it to prospective publishers. It’s safe at this point to say that the book is a thriller suspense novel that is thematically about forgiveness.
Plot wise, the book is about a duplicitous man who is confronted with all that he hates about himself when a neighbor from his past moves into the neighborhood.
The characters include the main character (a 45-year old man), his ex-wife who is a recovering addict with a blackmail tendencies, his supportive girlfriend who has no clue who her boyfriend really is, a registered sex offender, and a neighborhood full of children. What could possibly go wrong?
I’ll share more details later.
June is celebration of ME month so I’m blogging everyday to share something of importance to me or about me. I hope you’re enjoying the journey.
One of my favorite blogs belongs to Max Reddick of soulbrother. He blogs like nobody’s business and I’m not sure where he finds the time between work and family and that whole life thing. I learn and am entertained every time I visit with him.
In his own words, he is “an African American male with a deep & abiding love & respect for the literature, music, and culture of a people growing out of a historical & on-going struggle for change, but who at this time is not quite sure which direction that change is going and what it even means.”
Spencer is the coolest 10-year old I know and I have the honor of also being his Dad. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you… Spencer…
This is the tale of a man named James
A man of good report but then also kind of lame
Not lame as a three-legged dog that would hop
But lame is in – he was to write a novel with me but then he just… stopped
Yeah, that’s right. He stopped cold in the middle of starting like this tale no longer rhymes. He asked me to join him during National Novel Writer’s Month and he even took a week off – a whole week to get a nice head start – to get his head right to craft this great tale that he had been building for 10 years. Yeah, that’s what I said. 10 years. Most beautiful outline of a novel that a man would ever want to see this side of glory. And how many chapters were born of this most perfect outline?
James? Can you tell the people how many chapters you’ve written since November? What’s that? One hundred and huh? One? As in one chapter or…? No way. 10 years and the beautiful outline of a novel that a man would ever want to see this side of glory and all you have written is ONE chapter? James? Really?
My most talented and dear friend, James – the developer who is smarter than a Roomba and can do more tricks than a gang of monkeys on a grapevine. The ever gentle James – the man after God’s own heart who seeks to simplify while growing. The multifaceted and multicultured James – the man who can, in appearance, be mistaken as an Italian, a Mexican, and a Isreali unibomber all on the same driver’s license. Dear James – the procrastinator of all procrastinators. I started a novel with you and because of you and you have but one chapter to show for all of my blood, sweat, and ink tears. James, I salute thee.
This was the tale of a man named James
One of my best friends but then still very lame.
Insomnia has become my mistress tonight
Am I the only one she has left alive?
Darkness as sheets covering millions who lie
Me, I can no longer fathom the day from the night
Thoughts of my past and my now and to come
It’s the past that has shaped me of what I now sum
I’m heavy and burdened and she won’t let me sleep
I don’t recall asking her over for a nightcap or tea
My sons and my friends and those who barely missed the mark
They haunt me as ghosts as shadows in the dark
My phone is not speaking but I query anyway
It never suffers silence like this during the day
Insomnia wont leave me as if she’s some hesitant cur
The lines twixt imagination and reality are in post stages of blur
Thoughts rage past me and circle seven times
Leaving me crumpled in corners and opposite the sublime
And kings and queens don’t regard how my story will end
I wonder who will read it and will it sell more than ten
The screams of traffic are muted and all colors are grayed
The tether that once held me is now thinning and frayed
Alcohol or pills or distraction numbs her touch
But I resist the lure to trade a mistress for a dime store slut
So eventually she will tire of me and leave me be
And let me sleep and tire of me be and soon I’ll dream and…
