Nobody Told Me

As we approach the anniversary of John Lennon's senseless death, I was reflecting, listening to the marvelous "Instant Karma" collection of cover versions that came out a few years ago to raise money for Darfur, just why this man who did a healthy portion of his work before I was born, and who died before I really knew he was, has such a hold on me.

Lennon admitted in interviews he wasn't the best guitar player or singer in the world, and a fair minded listener would agree. I think what holds me when a John Lennon song is on is his brutally honest lyrics- he admits to being scared and vulnerable and as confused as everyone else is by the world.

That seems to be a theme of work that I enjoy- the sense that life doesn't make any sense. John Lennon reminds me, across decades, that it didn't make sense to him, either- and if that means I'm crazy, then at least I'm in good company.

Flashing on Friday: An offseason baseball story

The 52/250 Flash is up, and my contribution to this week's theme, "The Palm of your Hand", is here. But you should stay and read the good ones, too.

100 Words: It's Not About The Anchovies

The 100 Word Challenge is here, and has been shown, with a healthy diet and regular exercise, to result in weight loss for most people. The prompt this week is "Anchovies", and my entry is called, "It's Not About The Anchovies"










"Why are you getting so mad about anchovies?," he asked. He was watching a basketball game, tall men in white trying to defend a metal rim against other tall men wearing green.

"It's not about the anchovies, Steven," she said. It was about being ignored. Being slighted. Having your needs come last, if at all. It was about having another baby because you needed a boy. It was about your career ruined so that his could soar, it was about your dreams allowed to die like worms on the sidewalk.

"It's not about the anchovies," she repeated softly.

Low Expectations

Michael Solender, who obviously has pretty low standards, has elected to publish a piece of mine, "Je t'adore", in his online flash fiction publication Microw, available here.

It's All Over!

NaNoWriMo, National Novel Writing Month, otherwise known as A Month Of Mental Illness, No Sleep and No Friends, ends today. Keen readers of the sidebar note that I am, as they say on Sportscenter, a winner winner chicken dinner- I managed to write 50000 words between November 1 and November 30. This wins me, essentially, nothing at all save the artwork you are looking at. There is a company called createspace.com, an Amazon company, that will publish the book for free, but my book is many weeks or months from being ready for ink and paper.

It was an ordeal this year- a self imposed one, but still. It really consumed a lot of my life and a whole bunch of my free time, but I did it. It's done. It's strange how a burden I put on myself created a lot of real world stress.

RIP Mr. Kershner as well...

Another loss in entertainment, as Irvin Kershner, director of The Empire Strikes Back, the darkest and best of the Star Wars movies, has passed away.

Don't Call Me Shirley

There are a million tributes to the late Leslie Neilsen across the Internet this morning.

This is another one.

RIP, Mr. Neilsen.

Lest I forget...

The 52/250 Flash went up on Friday, and my contribution, located here, is called "Score".