GAH!

So, after saying I would be silent, something dropped on Amazon today, forcing me to speak up, to support the other writers besides me in the anthology of drabbles...

Fair warning, before reading mine. It kinda explains why I'm still single, lacking a heart or sense of romance as I do.

just 99 cents at Amazon, follow the image or the link on the sidebar, buy a copy, and help support writers, and a certain bum. Morale only this one, but still, every little bit helps.

**UPDATED**

For those not in the USA, follow the link in the tab page up top of the blog marked OVERSEAS.. even if no real sea exists between you and the USA. 

The End of all things

There is always an end to things. This is not really mine. Who knows, maybe when I left, a while ago, leaving these canned bits of my anger to drop out of the sky into the Cloud... Maybe, I took paper and pen with me, or figured some way to haul and charge the computer...

You may not know. Hell, I could even be locked up in a padded cell (I'm sure lots of folks think I belong there, just like I think they do as well). Or, I found my peaceful place, and sit there, pipe and hat still with me, relaxing as I let the tension of trying to rejoin the world drain away.

Perhaps, some small bits of my work, tossed about by my editing chainsaw, might streak through this virtual sky, leaving a smoking trail behind them of words here later?

Not telling.

Unless, of course, I wind up on a beach, surrounded by a bevy of bikini gals willing to fight off the squirrels whilst I smoke and sip my coffee, coke, or root beer float. Then I'd rub it in your faces.

So, perchance we will or have met, as I wandered away, and you now ask, why?

Petty revenge, anger, and just pure disgust made me toss it all to the web, waving aside forever the chance for dollars. You got all I want to give of the tales so far... perhaps. Then again, who knows?

Me, the Shadow, and three heartless wenches do, but the latter are mean gals... Billenius's mistresses, the Fates, or Parcae...

Happy holiday of your choice... me, I'm long gone... and better for it, I hope.

A summary of my failures and successes...

So, sitting here this morning (several before this appears here), coughing and snorting as my allergy hell cranked up last night, I'm reflecting on my successes and failures at writing.

The success column adds up fairly fast, just a few things...
1. A short story in an anthology that is available in print and eBook form.
2. A drabble (100 word story) in an anthology eBook.
3. A short op/ed piece in an eMagazine.
4. Two poems printed in an obscure local paper hawked only by the homeless... but at least they saw ink and paper.
5. A blog that has been lighting up the last year, finally, as my perseverance paid off. Thanks to those visiting, bigger thanks to those who return or steer others to here to read poems, stories, or even my other writings.
6. did it mostly on my own, no real editors or beta-readers. Save the op/ed and the short... which still did not get much in the way of edit applied.
7. had a month where what I earned by pen kept me from flying a sign to survive. Not much, but I had my tobacco and coffee money, even enough for a couple of burgers between food bank visits.

Failures? Yeah, there are many... most were just personal goals...
1. Never got to finish the poetry collection. Still might make one last effort, but fear without a pro touching it for formatting, poems will still be very choppy in appearance.
2. My favorite poem still languishes with few hits... those reading this can use the favorites side bar to the right to choose to read "Deerboy on a Bicycle" and turn that around.
3. Never finished the edits on the stories I tossed up on the blog here, and over on Billenius and Scorpio blogs. My anger got the better of me, when my ears started burning, and the words doing it got back to me. Should have kept my temper, probably, but hell, I can start over on new projects to rebuild, if I get a chance.
4. Exile's Road really should have seen ink and paper... again, my impatience was at fault there... not so much impatience to see it out there, but the impatience over "fix the knife fight". Dude, most knife fights I've seen were over before I noticed someone on the ground. One to six stab/slash moves, all done high speed, by one side only, usually. (few folks have the guts to face another person who is also armed, and ready to dance.)
5. Never getting those Steam-punk stories fixed... they were good. And I think with some loving attention, I could have fixed them to at least the level Billenius's tales have.
6. Never moving on to "Words from the Curbs and Under the Bridges" a collection of poems and writings I planned to set out some of the issues and problems I saw during my time homeless.
7. Too many tales I had small starts or ideas on that got nowhere... or languished in hidden spots on my hard drive... found now only as I start a clean and back up move to clear this dying laptop for storage with friends. Sorry to those characters, for failing them.
8. Wish I'd finished the tales that you got only the starts of on the blogs... Blade of the Eagle Clansman, Predator's Ground's re-write, Payback War, Black Banner Red Banner, and some others. Wish I'd done that edit all the way through on Journey to Freedom, smoothing that tale out more, and moved on into Seas of Treachery and Waking the Stone Gods, been able to fix The Knife Has No Forgiveness, finish up the elemental demon saga for Scorpio... done more edits to Paths of Damnation, Chain of Sorrows (you'll see the parts I felt okay sharing come December, just to show I had something up my sleeve...). Lots of things started and never finished, partly from frustration at the job search failing (you need money to live on while starting a writing career) and partly from just being me...

Gray areas? Yeah, there are some... but that fog those things lie in leaves me hoping them move to the green column on my spreadsheet, or at least get me past skunk corner on God's Cribbage Board.

Does that spreadsheet of mine balance? How should I know, the jury is still out... and I may never know, unless things turn around in these final days amid a failed and broken society. never mind, that is something I need to save for my few rants against the way we are as a nation and world.

Well, Not sure what else I can say, other than hope you still read during this winter hiatus.. enjoy the stuff I have canned and queued up to fall on the blogs during it, Hope I come back with a better attitude towards myself, and the world, willing to pick up my "pen" and write once again.

Some Parting Thoughts

One last post after this one, that is all, folks, unless some miracle occurs.

So, here are some parting thoughts.

I hope those who visited more than once did so for enjoyment, not obligation, spite, or for proof the homeless are worthless. I wish more of my favorite poems had more hits, but such is the ways of the Fates, cruel wenches they are. If you want to see my best, it is called Deerboy on a Bicycle, in my opinion. A firm "Tip of my Hat" to those who read and enjoyed, spreading the word by sharing the blog. Thank you.

I'm sure many felt my "drama-queen" attitude the last few weeks was just a cry for attention, and they are right, but not as thought. The posts were to bring your attention to the fact that your Society is broken, terribly. I've been saying for the whole time I was homeless that you cannot end homelessness without giving at least those trying to rejoin your world a chance, and few gave me the chance, none offered the time it would take to repair the breach between me and your Society. Yes, YOUR Society, not mine. The one I stood up for, wearing woodland camo on one weekend a month for nine years, believed in "Justice for ALL" not Injustice to the poor, and Corruption's Rule.

Yes, Corruption's Rule, the corollary to Mob Rule, where those with influence use it to enrich themselves at the expense of the freedom, dreams, and lives of others.

So many I knew screamed about Mob Rule, and how it would destroy America, all the while using Corruption's Rule to ensure that the Mob Rule would be indeed unruly, rancorous, and tainted with crimes, to hide their own.

I was trying to get your attention to the issues, and that treating only the symptoms, not the root causes, dealing with only the "experts", not those in the situation, while trying to fix it might make things worse. And does, to be honest. You want to reduce homelessness, talk to the homeless, get their take on what road blocks are there, what they endure in getting off the streets or out of the shelters, and be supportive of them when they do, don't just forget them and move on.

Also, to those trying to help other homeless out of their situation, if they have an artistic skill, and try to use it for getting out of the pinch they are in, LET THEM! Don't decry those attempts, especially, if like me, they say it is a fall back plan, to have at least some way to earn a few coins to eke by their miserable lives on. Urging them to use it as supplementary income is okay, but do NOT block them from moving on with those skills, and trying to gain back some cash for their art.

Last, I've spoken my last bits about your messes, folks. They are your messes now, not mine. Today is the drop dead date for a job. That said, I have little faith in any appearing, and less in my ability to hold it, as part of the agreement I settled out was to hit the streets, or hills, so there is no place that is stable in my life to live from, if I were to accept one. I'd try, but without showers, laundry, and the like until that first paycheck? No, it would not be fair, to the employer, their customers, or me.

Like I said, one more to go, no more rants, no more anything really, left in me. Save two things.
Goodbye, good luck, and take one last whiff as I pass of what belongs in a pipe.

oh, and yeah, I am burning, and will keep burning via canned postings here, the rights to much of the writing I did during this last few years. I that pissed off, I'm tossing all this to the winds, forgoing the money I might have had a chance at, just to show a few people I thought were my kith and kin that I was not just sitting on my ass doing nothing. At least, not most days. Bestcase, them being right,  this was a few hundred bucks, worst case, I just burnt a few million, and fame, to show them up. Yeah, when I get pissed, the monetary loss for a little taste of vengeance, which I've held back, numerous times from taking, and they knew it, is something I will stoop to. Congrat's, people. You finally have me furious.

Answering Questions Asked Of Me.

It is time to answer a few questions I've been asked the past few years. Most won't like the answers. Sorry, but the time has come to say these things, to my friends, family, and Society as whole

Do you really think writing is your only answer to your financial situation? No. I never thought I could thrive on my writings, I don't feel I will ever have a bestseller, but was just looking for a little cash to sustain my few bad habits, my morning coffee, smoking my pipe, an occasional meal, with. Honestly, I don't even see that , as the one try I make, folks toss road blocks before, not seeing I am doing what they do, spending money to make money, just not in that fool's game called the stock market.

Why don't you try harder to get a real job? I think that at now over the 8000 jobs applied for in less than 4 years, I've done more to get work than most folks who at least were given the support of Unemployment checks, which I never got.

When are you going to settle down and be reliable? I'm the guy who showed up, often even when sick, got the work done, and covered the others who took time off for silly things like hangovers, parties, and the like. When the bloody hell will the rest of you settle down and stop asking me to do your work, and deny my time off requests (I rarely got to use all my time off at ANY company I worked at.)

Who would read the stuff you write? Won't know, unless I try, right? Now, want to get out of my way, or help?

Why should any company give you a chance? you never stay. I think my past history, of staying until just before the issues blew up, actually is a firm reason for companies to give me a chance, just realize, all those before you have limited my patience, so that is the reason for the year and a half mark, not the five everyone desires. Remember, my first full time job, 60-80 hours a week, no vacation until two weeks before I quit, and that was given grudgingly? And other companies along the way that had things that went south, that I held on, only turning into the "rat off the sinking ship" once I realized I could not be their life preserver?

When are you going to start dressing for success? Folks, I long ago decided that my personal comfort takes firm precedence over "style" and "fashion", both of which are things I never had any sense in. I choose my clothing for utility and comfort, nothing more. Besides, everyone freaks out at my lack of color coordination, so I tend to stick with grey clothing, standard blue jeans and t-shirts. Stop asking me to wear a tie, remember, I had to cut one once to keep from being sucked into a machine, and that was with a tie clip on it! I despise suits, and am not comfortable in them, feel long sleeves are there to roll up when you need to show folks it's time to get things done, and prefer tennis shoes or hiking boots over dress shoes, as they at least come in sizes and shapes that fit my feet.

Why don't you have a five year plan? No plan I have ever made survived contact with the enemies I have, of time, fate, and reality. Besides, five year plans are so "Stalinist" or "Communist", in my view. Nowadays, I just have goals, without firm time limits. Gives me better flexibility towards making them happen.

Anything I miss, that folks bug me about? Post it below, but be prepared not to like my answers.

Questions to deal with in Writing

As one writes a story, you find yourself asking more questions about it, of the characters and yourself.

First, does it read well? You deal with that later. That is the kind of thing for the edit sessions. I find that the dictum many writers speak of, write the story, stupid" works best. Write the damned thing, then go back and edit. "Journey to Freedom" would not have taken six years and 10 drafts had I listened to that advice.

Second, Where the HELL did that come from? And what relevance does it have to the tale? This happens when some bit of the character's back-story creeps into the story, as  you write it out, and that is something you do NOT stop to deal with right then, either. Just drive on, but jot down notes on your shock at what dances off the fingers as you move the pen or tap the keys, depending upon preferred method of first drafting. Deal with that later, too.

Third: Should I stop here? Only if you absolutely have to. Never break a streak of words when you have a good run going. Even something you feel may be destined for some forgotten stretch of literary wilderness might have the rough gem you just need a touch of cutting and polishing on to convert it into a magnificent jewel.

Fourth: Is this paragraph good enough? Delay, prevaricate, and drive on with the streak. Never stop, save to top off the coffee/tea/soda cup and get right back at it, fast. A quick peek at social media is fine, as long as you keep it quick, don't linger, and keep the cursor away from those blasted game icons.

Last: Will it sell? Just tell the tale, you can fix marketability of a tale in the edit, or change your target audience/market as needed.

In other words. Butt in seat and write. Make your daily/project word goals, pad that number all you can, and pray Life, Lady Luck, and the Fates don't notice you are having a good time.

Oh, save and back it up frequently. Murphy loves to vex writers by applying his law to us.

Coffee

I'm sipping the long overdue cup,
staring at this screen, wondering: why?
Why is it that this mug
filled with rich, dark essence
can keep me sane each day?

Fingers slowly flex, then dance
after just half of that first draught.
The sun doesn't appear overly optimistic,
the sky's blue no longer depresses,
the birds are no longer annoying.

The stuff works deeper into me,
thawing the soul, activating imagination
stirring my hopes back up
and yet, calming me down
from hating the universe for being...
morning people.

Stretching out, sipping and smoking pipe
I let my internal janitor
clear away the cobwebs and clouds
that the night left inside
as the java finds my skull.

The knee feels better after a cup,
the back loosens up enough to bend
and everything begins to mellow.
Others say I'm spinning up
they've never tasted my "dawn desperation".

The stories and ideas flow,
having percolated with the joy juice,
stirred up by just that aroma
filling space around and in me
with hope and some measure of patience...
I freaking hope.

Few laud their mornings like I,
who remembers the cold nights
and that first cup, when I had cash,
to thaw out after sleeping outside
when there was no other place.

It is my one, true wife,
the thing I cannot separate from
save when I mess about with my mistress
that ugly habit of smoking a pipe
of equally rich, black tobacco.

Others can mock me,
friends can tease me,
family hides until that cup is drank,
and the world best not irritate me,
for only coffee and tobacco allow me...
to persevere.

Now, get the hell out of my way,
my cup is empty, and needs refilling.
8September2014 - Dyfedd Rex, on a Moaner's Day.

Answering the Question of Who Am I? - A poem of self reflection and friends

Who are U? She asked.
Which stirred my murky soul
into a roiling mess of questions
about what I really am,
to her, myself, and others.
So, I had to answer the call
and define myself outside
the boundaries of social media
into that realm more spiritual.

I am but a figment
of my own wandering imagination.
Stirred out into the world
beyond that strange, solitary realm,
by the dipping of friends' fingers
into muddy waters of that unreality,
calling me up to support those
needing words to soothe their souls
or enrage them to action.

I am the smoke
that sails from my pipe,
irritating the hypochondriacs noses,
yet stirs Memories in those
who had beloved relatives and friends
that odor calls back to them
from the place beyond this life,
to lay ghostly hands upon shoulders
in gentle support against Life's pressures.

I am but a dream
shared with some in brief moments
of vivid colors or monochrome starkness,
across the new aethers dreams rule,
called an internet and social media.
Evoked by prompts, teased back by images,
to weave the smoke and words together
amid the grids of Reality's structures,
and show you worlds beyond it.

I am the wanderer,
walking the streets and trails,
seeking a place called home
that never materializes in quite the way
others think should be there for me.
But, accepts what he has gained,
until the next time feet itch
and the roads and paths summon me
to wander their wonder lined ways.

A silent lurker around the word ponds,
I hunt the prompts and images
that stir my inner bard to compose
words or tales quite strange.
Then toss them into rivers of electrons
for others to enjoy and be inspired
towards raising their own voices
into song, prose, or verse
to lift even more souls up.

I am just imaginary,
conjured up by you,
in those moments when
you need a friend.
Built from the streaming bytes
that dance along cables
into something not quite me...
and yet totally is me,
at least, as you see me.

3September2014 - Dyfedd Rex, with HUGE tip of the hat to my internet friend Nunya for prompting this out of me, not the first poem she's tickled out with some bit she shares and pushes out there. Thanks, Ms. Bidness. Or is that Muse Bidness?

Long after that Giant Leap, we still are "Groundhogs". - A poem of Sci-Fi and Space

Being a science fiction fan,
back in my formative days,
I have some pressing questions
to ask of all around.
And top of that list,
the one showing my gender.
Where the hell are the skin-tight space-suits?

Now, stop shaking your heads,
all you ladies out there,
as I know you wonder too,
where the heroic guys are,
having seen romance novel covers.
And that don't end it.
Where the hell is my flying car now?

As we celebrate this day
something I actually remember, vaguely,
that man walked off Earth,
our first pioneers leaving footprints boldly
in the grey lunar dust,
I just have to ask things,
Like when do we get space vacations?

Look, I'm just pointing out
that we have some things
so many laughed at then,
when in books or comics.
Dick Tracy's TV watch thing,
and flip-phones from Star Trek,
So, when will we colonize other star-systems?

Wait, they did that already,
over in Japan just recently,
though it still costs tons.
But still, of the dreams
Science Fiction offered us all,
What others still languish sadly,
Like when can we travel the stars?

Still no moon-bases to visit,
no zero-G sports channels,
we lack the vision now
to press on beyond low-orbit,
but I hope someday soon,
we each live those tales,
but I still want my own planet.

Buzz, You asked a question
Where was I at when
you walked on the moon?
Mister Aldrin, glued to TV,
Dreaming of being an astronaut
when the four-year-old body dozed.
Now, Can you get NASCAR to hold....
Lunar Buggy races on Fiftieth Anniversary?

Just joking (okay, I'd go),
But, folks, these are only
the first steps to take,
on our long journey ahead,
to spread out across space,
realizing that writers went first,
If only in tales mom's screamed over,
when they saw the racy covers bearing
gals in skin tight suits moon walking.

So, press on, you dreamers,
aim high, comic book readers,
we might not get super-heroes,
but we hold the potential
for most science fiction stories
to appear at last factual,
save that one bit about us nerds
always getting the girl in the end.

She'll always follow the money, fellas.
Unless we show them our brains.

20July2014- Dyfedd Rex, still wanting to have a batting cage on the Dark Side of the Moon, where can I buy that franchise at?

Okay, seriously, yes, a lot of the sci-fi tales are proving out slowly, and I know, the fiction was getting budgets to balance and pass quickly and consistently, that would let us live on the moon someday, sooner in tales than reality. But still, we got the guts, the tech, the brains, the desires, and most of all, the dreams.

And, thanks to the last few decades, we have the sparks lit in our youth, even if dimmed a few times by the reality that space is a dangerous place, and getting up there, and back down more so. But we should press on, and soon. I'd like to try space travel myself, before the ol' body gives up the ghost.

 So, Besides the batting cage, where can I get the moon's first liquor license at, so I can open the first, true bar in space?
And, Buzz, if you see this, I tip the battered brown hat to you and the others who have been in the Black (in terms of my favorite sci-fi show. One of my first memories is of the landing at Tranquility.  I wish things had gone different enough that I'd be on the moon right now, serving you a beer for the celebration, but I'd take the keys from your Lunar Rover, if I did, leaving them in that jar on the back-bar. Gotta have some responsibility. I can see you sitting down with Han Solo, James T. Kirk, Jean-Luc Picard, Malcolm Reynolds, Mister Garibaldi, and some others, tossing one back, as we celebrate making the first steps to their worlds, or our versions of the dreams those characters inspired in us, as did you, Neal, and the rest of the NASA astronaut corps and those other space pioneers out there. And I promise to make Han and Mal check their blasters/guns at the door.
And, thank god we have yet to see....
Asimov's robotic detective (other than on the silver screen)
Heinlein's practical joker computer (then again, seen a lot of checks with extra zero's issued by number crunching boxes).
Clarke's big monolith (but I really hope I live long enough to see a Beanstalk that works!).
Herbert's Butlerian Jihad and the mess it would create.
Whedon's Alliance and the Reaves they made.
and all the other bad things that we'll probably screw up and do anyway.


Oh, and everyone else. Keep the dream alive. Show your kids those stars, and dare them to get there.

And maybe, just maybe, we will come again in peace, to the moon, and many, many other places.
Except the bars. We know we'll have fights between the Trekkies, Browncoats, and Lucasites over which ships are faster. Guess I'll need Doc Savage as a bouncer.
-D.R.