Archive for March, 2016
FROM GOOGLE
I just received this email from Google. I have no idea of it,s importance, or whether I’m being ripped off ( which happens these days, but has always been the practice of a certain element of society, i.e., losers).
https://web.mail.comcast.net/zimbra/mail?app=mail#5
I’m also including the sit they reference.
To be honest, I would prefer you purchase my story from Melange Books. I make money, and more in important, my publisher makes money.
As a side note, I occasionally check my name on Google. It’s not an ego thing, I just want an update on what of my work has been published. Interestingly, I did discover one of my stories publish. That knowledge was new to me. I also found that the first two chapters of Elmo’s Sojourn has been published in China. I waited for the money from millions of sales to roll in. Of course, I knew that China has little use for our copyrights, but the next time I visit the Orient, I expect a huge outflowing of love.
In spite of my age, I still dream.
A SECOND LOOK AT GEORGE R.R. MARTIN
Those of you who follow this blog will remember, in the past, I have expressed negative opinions on George R.R. Martin’s series, The Game of Thrones. I felt, and still do, that the novels were overwritten. If they were shortened, the story would move along at a much interesting pace. In my opinion, the description of the character’s clothes and other details were far beyond necessary. While talking with a friend, I found that he also had a problem reading these novels, and had an interesting observation. He commented that the novels were really screenplays, providing details needed more for a visual representation of the story than what the novel required.
These are opinions of the author’s works of fantasy. Now I would I would like to express my limited exposure to the Martin’s science fiction.
Due to a local library’s overflow of books, I inherited a book of Martin’s science fiction work published by TOR in 1985, with the individual stories first published during the 1970’s. The first and best story, Nightflyers, was a read I highly recommend. All of the stories making up this anthology are worthy of a lover of science fiction’s attention.
From reading this the brief amount of Martin’s science fiction, I think his writing in this genre is superb and definitely plan to read more of his efforts, if I can find them. I found the stories in Nightflyers to progress at a rapid pace and entertaining.
My opinion of this author has suffered a turnaround. This is the fault of forming an opinion until all the facts are known.
POEMS & FLEETING THOUGHTS: THE CREATORS
Have you ever wondered
Of the giants,
The geniuses of the arts, the sciences?
How they suffered
Their daily lives?
The revelations and emotions,
The creations born
Yet the mundane thoughts
Crowding their existence,
Long gone
We put them on pedestals,
Gaze at their work in museums
Or read their efforts,
But remember,
Know they were human,
Lived day to day,
Dealt with life,
Some, their talent realized
Only once gone,
The gamble
Of being
Creative.
I try to appreciate every creative effort I read on the blogs I follow. To create something from nothing takes effort, whether grand or small.
POEMS & FLEETING THOUGHTS: TERRORISM
Brussels
Innocent they gather
For the usual experience,
While those deprived
Of a future
Plot their destruction,
Lives torn apart,
Bodies torn apart
On both sides
Of the equation,
Where is the meaning
The hope
When hate overcomes
The value of life?
POEMS AND FLEETING THOUGHTS
Progression
As my years gain numbers
My once youthful mind
Cannot comprehend
This change,
Ponders
The fading past
And wonders
At the future,
I sometimes feel
Like Kafka’s
Roach,
I went to sleep
At seventeen
And awoke
Nearly seventy,
Trying to grasp
The thoughts
Hopes and dreams
As they drift away,
How will time
Treat my questioning
Soul?
RANTS AND RAVES: THE CATHOLIC CHURCH
I wrote this article in anger and despair, then decided not to publish it. But only today this article appeared in the Washington Post.
Here is another article which should sicken everyone, especially a parent.
How could my piece possibly relate to writing? Easy, it is life. And even when writing fiction, the roots of reality take hold and form the story.
I was raised a Catholic, my children were raised in the church, but I no longer attend mass. I was frustrated, then sickened as I sat on Sunday morning listening to discussions I could not challenge. Being told statements that were not true, or not researched. Making no sense to what I knew to be the truth.
I once found comfort in the presence of the church. The physical building offered peace. Even the smell of the church, in quiet moments of solitude, I found solace. Now, I question this source of salvation I once held dear. Wondering where the truth ends and the lies begin.
My faltering began with the first exposure of child abuse in this area of Pennsylvania, by priests. I could not wrap my mind around such an announcement. I realized that I was expected to confess my sins to someone, who potentially, had committed acts worse than I could imagine. When the Philadelphia Inquirer published their first article about these unspeakable acts by priests from the pulpit we were told not to read the article. As it turns out, this heinous crime was being committed by thousands of priest all over the country, then revealed that this practice was committed by priests all over the world.
I know that if I had committed these acts, I would have been jailed. When released put on Megan’s List, and my life ruined. Yet when the holy commit these crimes, they are transferred to a new parish where they could continue these unholy acts.
During one mass after the revelation of these crimes, I listened to the celebrant tell us that pedophilia was a disease. I would say a disease that should have been dealt with before too many innocent lives were ruined. In reply, I would ask this question, “Does the church consider homosexuality a disease?” For most of these acts come under that definition. Now every time the church I once attended plants small white crosses in the soil representing the thousands of children aborted, I wish they would also plant little black crosses to represent the thousands of children, living children, whose lives have been damaged by those they pictured as the holiest of holy.
I am sickened by an institution I once held dear. I did not write this article gain attention, but rather, to explore a past my life once held important, but now causes nothing but confusion.
A FRIEND GONE, SALLY
A companion, living most of the past months on my lap, Sally is gone. I have mentioned her in this blog before.
Originally my daughter Lynn’s cat, an SPCA rescue, but as education and work took Lynn to other locations, Sally stayed behind
At the age of nearly 16 her kidney failure overpowered her. She left this world on March 8, 2016, barely able to stand. I had to make the final decision. She had bounced back numerous times in the past, but this time was different. There was no bouncing back.
I never thought I would be become a ‘cat person’, but I did become a ‘Sally person’. We shared many nights together on my recliner, and many mornings when her hunger wanted me awake. I miss her. She won my heart, and I will always remember her.
THE GIVER BY LOIS LOWRY: AN OPINION FAR FROM THE USUAL
The other day I was getting my seasonal haircut, when I began discussing books with my barber and authors she enjoyed. During our conversation she mentioned The Giver. I have read this book and the books concept remains a sore point for me. I found it lacking in belief, even for fiction.
I know who am I, a totally unknown writer, and who am I to detract from a classic, but here it goes.
I had no problem with most of the story until the fact was revealed in the warped world of The Giver, all you needed to do is cross a bridge over a river and enter the world of normality. Salvation was just on the other side of this bridge, yet no one dared cross it. I find that unexplainable. Perhaps my readers can tell me how my thinking is wrong. My barber said they did not cross the bridge because they had been brainwashed. I feel it should have taken a lobotomy.
I shall now boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone.
I shall suggest an alternate ending to the novel. I would have preferred to see the novel take this turn. On the other side of the bridge there exists a sinister forest constantly cloaked in darkness. In this forest reside malevolent beasts, some part human, who kill and devour all foreign life they find. The journey through this forest would be dangerous beyond belief, but I feel some barrier must exist for the souls inhabiting the land of the Giver, to overcome.
Beyond this forest is another bridge over another river which these monsters of the forest dare not cross. Beyond this bridge lies a normal society. Those who risk the forest will find a fulfilled life.
That’s how I would have ended the story.
Comments?
THE BIG BANG: THE MEETING OF GOD AND SCIENCE
have spent countless hours pondering the Big Bang.
I write science fiction and have for years been working on a short story, The Event, closely associated with the Big Bang. Someday I hope to get it published.
Now, back to the primary subject.
I am not a Hawking, no one is, but I am still in wonder of what the hell happened at the moment of the birth of the universe. Was this the first time this event happened?
Hawking proposed the Higgs boson as the culprit starting the process of the Big Bang. The existence of this particle has now been confirmed. This discovery is also referred to as the ‘God particle’. There I feel science has found the mingling of science and God.
I have always wondered what existed before the Big Bang. Even time should not have existed. Then the entire birth of everything began. I thought that matter could be neither created nor destroyed, getting that from somewhere.
If the Higgs boson started the Big Bang going, how did it produce matter from nothing?
Who created the Higgs boson?
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