Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Carbonated Reading for the Masses

Alright, I’m going to talk about a most disturbing trend for a moment, well, as least it’s disturbing to me. Now the term “franchise” and more specifically “franchise characters” are relatively new terms but they are an old concept. James Fennimore Cooper’s Leatherstocking series and Mark Twain’s characters, Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn takes you further back as characters showing up in multiple books, and Dumas’s d’Artagnan, just to give you a few suggestions to show you this idea isn’t new.

Bringing this blog more into the now perspective, I’ve never read the Ender series, written by Orson Scott Card, because of conflicting views on religion, and I am sure there’s a plethora of crime mystery novels out there with the same character throughout it that I haven’t touched because I don’t normally read that genre. However, it seems like an author can only publish one character and several books, like they were a literary television series. And to me they aren’t a good literary television series, they started off great, but they need to end; all stories have an ending, even the Neverending Story had an ending. But like most businesses, you must milk the product for as much money as it is worth. A good case in point is the Harry Potter series when it comes to milking the money out, then again, it did end. (Knock on formica) Roger Zelazny’s Amber series had distinct abrupt finishes, even though there was the Corwin Chronicles and the Merlin Chronicles and short stories in between to fill in the gaps they seemed, to me at least, a satisfying end. Then you have another extreme with Douglas Adam’s Hitchhiker trilogy that contained six books and one short story, totally ambiguous, all over the map, and followed virtually no rules. I forgave it because I thought they were a really fun read. But nothing can forgive this:

I blame Louie, the schmuck in Interview with the Vampire. He was sad and morose and reluctant and practically a fucking sage at the end of that book. Vampires are not supposed to be touchy feely happy “I wanna do you” type creatures. They are monsters. The were “created” straight from folklore as the ultimate boogyman that cannot die, capable of insurmountable evil, chaos, and fear. They are leeches on mortal society, preying on their victims in their pursuit of blood, their only sustenance; vampires are NOT the perfect boyfriend for moody emo teenage girls! You live for hundreds of years there’s a good chance that you don’t care about love and sex anymore, they are just looking for a food source to harvest. They are manipulative monsters out for their own gain in control, plain and simple, they are not Robert Pattison! And by the way, Robert Pattison has the same acting ability as Ryan Phillipe or Michael Cera, they do one style and they do it badly. C’mon guys, some emotion please?! Romantic, dark fantasies, indeed…

So this finally brings me to Laurel K. Hamilton. Ah, Ms. Hamilton, reliving her past lovers in her writings and pursuing her dark fantasies as she kills them off in gruesome ways when they break up with her in real life, please dear, lets not be so fucking obvious with your bitterness when a man, or woman, grows tired of you, it happens and it’s human nature to wander and find a hot piece of ass. If the offer is there, they are going to take it sweetheart, which brings me to my next point, why is vampire porn mainstream literature; and I use the term “literature” loosely here. I understand that this series has fallen to the ways of the romance novel, but, darling, you write about a hunter who hunts vampires who had a vampire lover. Okay, so it’s Buffy. Ms. Hamilton, your first two or three books were decent, the rest is just bad porn. It makes me sick to my stomach that you, and others like your work, are professionally published and I am not. It really spells out the integrity of certain agents and publishing houses.

And while I named Buffy, I’ll leave on more point. Yes Angel was moody and supplied a good amount of angst, but it was a quick to answer concept in that multiverse as to why he was a goody goody vampire and boyfriend to a vampire hunter. Most vampires there have no soul, which is a good point; no soul equals virtually no morals, kind of like the old tale of being a witch. An old gypsy thought it would be just desserts to give Angelus his soul back and deal with all the sins that he created in his wake thusfar as a vampire. Hence WHY he’s needy goody goody nice, because he must. Too bad it has to spawn “True Blood,” “The Vampire Diaries,” and the Twilight debacle. Television and movies have, all in all, become such a waste when it comes to entertainment and the internet is in the same boat.

Speaking of numbing the mind, I’m going to go play videogames to make me feel young again, albeit, it’s an empty feeling of youth. Lets see if I can rant about something tomorrow.

Down with big oil; TTFN

H.R. Green, 28th of October, 2009, 11:02 a.m. Burtchville, MI

To Sober or not to Sober

I really need to find that fine line that divides being buzzed from alcohol and being smashed because I sure as frack don’t know where it lies. And everytime I would lament “Eh maybe I won’t drink this time because it always ends in disappointment,” I would get smashed again. At least I don’t do this every weekend, or every night, because, potentially I could. I get addicted to stuff in some of the weirdest ways and sadly I get addicted to people yet I’m not a people person; addiction towards only certain people, which is sad and somewhat creepy. But the drinking, well, it gets less glamorous every time, still, it happens, and I wind up with the room spinning when I try to sleep. Then again, I don’t get hangovers so I have some sort of immunity to sickness. Yet I get migraine headaches so there’s a trade-off.

All they have to do is bring really good tequila. Not the American processed Jose Cuervo junk, but imported straight from Mexico, the really smooth shit. I have this really bad feeling it’ll happen.

Now I normally have the willpower; usually I enjoy a nice cognac with a cigar and sit back for an hour or two to pontificate with friends. And it is more fun to watch other people get shit faced, you have no idea what fun could be had. I once bet a drunk five dollars that he couldn’t sit on the edge of a stool for thirty minutes. He proved me wrong, however was too drunk to understand that when you sit on the edge of a seat your junk falls asleep. It was totally worth the five dollars as we watched his reactions from, first, having his junk numb, and second, having his junk regain circulation. ZZZZZZZZ.

Now, second subject, gas is up to 2.79. Quit fucking raising the price because, honestly, I believe, whoever makes those decisions needs to be beaten repeatedly in their crotch until they understand they are making a mistake or get knocked out, whatever comes first. And to everyone else, we’ll have to stop driving around again if they have decided to double the price as it was last year, fuck them.

H.R. Green, 27th of October, 2009, 11:49 p.m. Burtchville, MI

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

I Need my Fix, But Not with a Pacifier

For those of you who are insane like me, please raise your hands. Go ahead, I’ll wait.

Good, now, those of you not insane or crazy in any way, raise your hands. Okay, fine, I’m staring at you all because you’re bullshit artists. Okay, lemme make something clear as crystal here, no one on this rock is totally sane, okay? No one at all. Oh sure, I know we have some winners out in the world that can still make the world go “My God, did you do that just to say it could be done? You sick little monkey!” One thing that comes to mind is homosexual necrophilia. Not a very polite conversation topic around the water cooler, so, yes, it’s pretty fucking sick. Maybe your crutch is playing video games, either on the personal computer or on a platform or portable. Yes, it is less harmful on the surface, but believe me take the service away from some World of Warcraft players while they are about to make the big score and I assure you something is soon going to die. Animal, vegetable, or mineral; that I couldn’t tell you but be assured something is going to die a gruesome death. Hell hath no fury than the computer gamer who just lost their internet connection.

Everyone, even the nice old lady librarian has their addictions that they cannot get enough. Many people call them hobbies, but, damn it, when you are still collecting Magic cards up to your fifties it’s time to look at your lifestyle a little more seriously. Those who just cannot recognize that need to r-check, damn it! To my mind, even the clergy have on, and that’s the Almighty, so there’s no escaping this train of thought, we all have a vice, just some have a lot more than others and even fewer have one that’s damned dangerous. We lock those people up for a very long time in hopes that they might get better. I seriously doubt it, but I can hope.

Next on the docket, how old is too old when it comes to cradle robbing? Now lets just say that we all have common sense in understanding that eighteen is the age of consent and that we don’t ever delve younger. Please, sometimes we have laws for a reason. I am thinking this is a different strokes for different folks thing but I am very curious in seeing what peoples responses are to this subject. Personally I draw the line at sixteen years for one simple reason; that’s the difference between my parents, but damn it teen means teen to me and it still sounds like a kid and ninety-nine times out of one hundred, that’s definitely the case, from my own experiences.

Food for thought while my mind wanders like a fly looking for a bright light in a dark forest even though that same light will zap me out of existence for some reason I think I’ll still have fun.

Au revoir mon amis.

H.R. Green, 27th of October, 2009, 2:32 a.m. Burtchville, MI

Monday, October 26, 2009

Out On a Limb

I stand at the crossroads of right and wrong
Near the cliff of good and evil
Where the wind screams for forever
And you can’t but help smell the past
Destiny stares at me in three forms
As I feel the fates push me towards them
I feel peace from all three, but I still must choose
The spoiled inner child wants to choose them all
And the pessimist wants to leave them behind
The problem is I can’t start over now…I’ve only begun.

Now write, you mad fools, write out your hearts
Force time to stand still
Bend the universe to your whim
As I try to do now
And maybe…just maybe, it’ll come to me
Thirty-seven years and it may finally come to me
They may come to me, she may come to me, and they may.
Whether it long hair and smooth skin on her face
Or loneliness with an open space
I hoped to catch the conscience of the masses and forced them to sing!

Yeah, I get like this sometimes, sitting around being all reflective and shit and words just pop onto paper like this. I’m thinking about putting my introduction I have in a special edition version of Listen Like Fiends on one of my blogs just for S & G’s so you guys can clearly see where I’m coming from when it comes to muses. My muses never liked me the way I wanted them too and therefore I get bitter and angry whenever their likeness comes to mind. I guess that’s the point, but I wish once one of them would just give me the time of day instead of fucking around with my head because I hate being teased. That and I saw a movie I thought I had no business seeing and now I really feel like a dirty old man. “Dead puppies! Dead puppies! Dead puppies!”

I’ve been too happy as of late and I’m just waiting for the hammer to fall, that little moment that brings me back to reality and has the fates ask me, “What the hell were you thinking? You’re not allowed to be happy.” My books get bought regularly I would get happy but there are a few other things in my life right now that require immediate attention that either need to be made better or just get out of my way…and they know who they are.

I promise, the next blog will be more topical and less introspective. TTFN.

H.R. Green, 26th of October, 2009, 8:38 a.m. Burtchville, MI

Sunday, October 25, 2009

Melodic Noise Being the Mother of Creation

“…so, if all of the sudden you hear Beethoven’s Fifth right after My Chemical Romance’s “Black Parade” and then hear Eminem’s “Loose Yourself” please don’t be alarmed. That’s just how my MP3 mix rolls.”

I’m normally just a rock and roll fan, but there’s a plethora of other bands and music genres I absolutely love listening to, such as other songs by one hit wonders to classical, then some rap (Only a scant few artists I’m afraid to say), to alternative, then heavy metal or hard rock, I bounce all over the map of music as there’s very little I cannot stand. (Coughs::Country music::cough-cough::) A lot of times whatever I write tends to be spawned from a melody, song, or musical note of some kind. It just sets the mood for me but makes it harder to put anything down on paper because my head tends to work more like a movie, but you cannot write short stories or books that way. But it sets tempo for me, it sets mood for the scene and in my opinion, it’s better when it’s done. Hopefully it’s better for the reader to deal with it. It also keeps me from crying my eyes out like a pussy; those damned acidic tears of mine!

I also get chronic cases of “I have this fucking song stuck in my head for three days now and I can’t get it out or make it leave!” syndrome. Nice that MP3 players exist nowadays so I can cure that ailment.

This is all I can think about today that I know I can safely put onto my blog. Sorry, without my books being bought and not having agents and publishers knock down my door I really don’t have an avenue for an interesting life right now, the weekend has been quite boring and I believe I’ve been too happy to lead onto a venomous rant. Just putting in an entry, because I didn’t yesterday, saying, “Hello everyone, I’m here and not dead.” Blogging is some hard shit to do, I knew that when I got coerced into starting one. Thinking of something fresh and new is a pain in the ass every day, it’s not for the weak willed.

Then again, no one reads it, so why am I worried.

To those who would care, I love you guys, to everyone else, until next time.

H.R. Green, 25th of October, 2009, 11:41 a.m. Burtchville, MI

Friday, October 23, 2009

Hey! I Was Reading That!

I try really hard not to talk about religion for the respect of other people’s point of view but every once in a great while a heretical fundamentalist comes along and pisses in my wheaties.

So I’ll just jump into the fire and brimstone. The picture of that suave, sophisticated man here is Pastor Mark Grizzard of the Amazing Grace Baptist Church of Canton, North Carolina, a suburb of Raleigh, and fourteen of his followers will be holding a old fashioned book burning on Halloween night; my, how festive these church goers are these days. So if anyone hasn’t heard by now, here’s a snippet of authors and books they plan to burn on this fortuitous night:

Billy Graham, Bruce Metzger, Westcott and Hort, Rick Warren, Bill Hybels, John McArthur, James Dobson, Charles Swindoll, John Piper, Chuck Colson, Tony Evans, Oral Roberts, Jimmy Swaggart, Mark Driskol, Franklin Graham, Bill Bright, Tim LaHaye, Paula White, T.D. Jakes, Benny Hinn, Joyce Myers, Brian McLaren, Lauren Schuller, Rob Bell, Erwin McManus, Donald Miller, Shane Claiborne, Brennan Manning, William Young, Mother Theresa and the Pope, himself, to name a few.

Also several different versions of the Bible will be burned, as they feel they are the works of the beelzebub, they have listed, but I’m sure have not limited to, the New International Version, the Revised Standard Version, the New King James Version, The Living Bible, the New American Standard Bible, the New English Bible, the New Revised Standard Version of the Bible, the American Standardized Version of the Bible, the New World Translation of the Holy Scriptures, The Evidence Bible, The Message Bible, the Green Bible, and the Good News for Modern Man are among the kindling they are choosing to use. If someone takes pictures I really hope some young children are dumb enough to roast weenies and marshmallows while the books burn. Hey, they’re cocky enough to also say they are serving barbecue (spelled bar-b-que) chicken, fried chicken, and all the sides, so it’s a regular book burnin’ southern barbecue picnic under the sky!

And also, the ever popular burning of music, and I quote, “We will also be burning Satan's music such as country , rap , rock , pop, heavy metal, western, soft and easy, southern gospel , contempory [sic] Christian , jazz, soul, oldies but goldies, etc.” See, I love the excetera put at the end of their statements, which they also have at the end of their bible and authors’ lists just so they can do on site determination. What’s fundalmentalists without doing things on the spur of the moment? However, they also had a statement to kind of do a CYA: “We are not burning Bibles written in other languages that are based on the TR. (True word, a.k.a. The King James Version, for those of you keeping score.) We are not burning the Wycliff, Tyndale, Geneva, or other translations that are based on the TR.” Gee, thanks for the clarification, folks. And lets go as far as to say they believe that all people who read and follow these texts are also heretical? I actually just guessing here, but I’m sure they’ll be burning Torahs, Korans, Books of Mormon, and other selected apocrypha not mentioned on their website. I am not the greatest theologian in the world but I think it’s safe to say that these Bible thumpers are not only not on the same page, they aren’t in the same book, street, city, zip code, state, nation or planet as I! Now, probably, the noted people who may have been informed, such as the Reverend Billy Graham, because this is happening in his home state of North Carolina, will just ignore the ignorance publicly, and they’ll have their book burning and barbecue cook out and then it’ll pass and be forgotten. By my mere mentioning in my blog about this mean I too am giving the ignorant too much press, and that’s the idea. They want the outrage, they want the attention, and they want the publicity, the whores that they are setting themselves up into being and nothing else. Do not take freedom of choice away because it is one of the principals that this country was founded on, look it up in the library after your done burning these books. You choose to be fanatical, we choose to tune up the paddy wagon for you, but then again, there’s a much more deeper and darker thought that comes to my mind as they are burning all these religious works.

Preacher Grizzard, you and your flock, when needlessly burning these texts of theological insight, reason, and inspiration will force you to overlook this one basic problem with your actions. Because they can be viewed by others as the word of the Almighty, or extensions they’re of or inspirations from it, you all in turn will be turning yourselves into extensions of the deeds of darkness. Yeah guys, in hindsight, your beliefs are actually doing satan’s work. However, what do I know, I am not a Theologian, therefore do not have a professional opinion on what’s going on. I just have my own opinion from what I see around me and put them down to print.

And by the way, I’m sure my barbecue ribs are much better!


H.R. Green, 23rd of October, 2009, 11:54 a.m. Burtchville, MI

Thursday, October 22, 2009

Cost Cutting Measures That Hurt

There’s been a mad dash for states to create ways in curbing their budget deficit and Michigan just got low down and dirty.

Apparently, the Department of Human Services in the state of Michigan has a new computer system routed straight through Lansing and has an automated no tolerance policy with cases and if you never receive any mail regarding the department in obtaining certain information so you can keep your case open, like, if your children needs health insurance. If you aren’t fast enough, the system closes your case and you get nothing. Way to go, good ol’ state of mine, way to start fixing your money problems by using ignorance to prey on the ignorance of others; way to go to show Michiganders that you care! Personally, I think that bitch of a governor needs to leave office but that doesn’t mean we’ll get anyone that’s better. We’ll still have a high unemployment rate, high rate of taxes, overpriced oil, overtaxed tobacco and alcohol, a social services group who acts like the police whenever an anonymous person gets a bug up their ass about children they think are being neglected. (It’s almost happened to me once.) Yet, in the long run, Michigan is best because we have the fresh water and since the watershed is international water nationalization cannot do a fucking thing about it…legally.

But I’m slightly derailed on my train of thought. Allow me to get back on track.

How do other states think of ways to screw over their citizens? I would like to know from anyone out there to give me reasons why not to move to said states. I really am trying to find my utopia, somehow, someday, I’ll find it and maybe never get screwed over again.

H.R. Green, 22nd of October, 2009, 3:10 p.m. Burtchville, MI

The Waiting is the Hardest Part

Okay, it’s been two weeks here and there’s some assessments that need to be made at the halfway point of this experiment and I see it’s pretty clear. I’m blogging to my fucking self! That’s okay, just two more weeks of this and I’ll probably scrap the entire idea. I see no one following, I see no one making a comment, good or bad, hell, I don’t see any hits on the blog whatsoever. So hello me it’s me again, I have a mouth, I’m screaming and nobody hears me because no one bothers to look into my writing; fair enough, world. Stemming from my rant yesterday, this blog was supposed to help support my books but obviously it’s not good enough, so I’m at my wits end. It’s pretty much the point now where I’m almost daring someone to make any type of statement just to get the attention. I’m a bit of a lighter bug, maybe setting fire to something will get your attention? Anything with blood and violence in it must get your attention. Maybe a naked woman will peak interests, even though it has nothing to do with what I write, or maybe what’s missing is something shiny on the top of this blog, like a coin or pendulum so possibly I can hypnotize you all.

Okay, seriously, aside of money, what the fuck am I supposed to do here? Although I don’t know how far suggestions may go but it’s getting to the point that I’m open to anything. Even, somehow, getting my stories into independent film around here in Michigan. I’m even getting to the point of buying copies of them and leaving them in really strange places. That’s a better idea than waiting at my desk for someone to snag a copy online.

And I’ve gone as so far as not talking about sports, which tends to be a bit juvenile. Trying to make this a literary blog, or at least a journal in observing what is around me in hopes that others gain common sense and the ability to rationalize.

This day’s blog is short as I grow weary. Come to my own personal wonderland, damn it, and read what I have to say. Who knows, maybe you’ll all get lucky and there’ll be a new poem, prose, or even an excerpt tomorrow or later today, we just don’t know.

H.R. Green, 22nd of October, 2009, 1:29 a.m. Burtchville, MI

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

My Scream and Bite are One and the Same

I can understand fully, the times a person can be currently in. All I have to do is look around me and notice that it has never been, nor will it ever be, a rose garden. It is easy for me to understand thanks to my ability to rationalize and have common sense. That being said, just because I understand doesn’t mean I have to like it. On the contrary, by now the casual reader has probably figured out by now that I have a lot of hate for this world and the denizens who fill it’s void minute after minute and it gets increasingly harder for me not to sound like I’m bitching like a child who just lost his sucker.

Do I enjoy writing? Sure, I enjoy it, and I fancy that I’m good at it too, however, looking at my current book sales, any shyster business type person would give their heartfelt opinion that I suck. Bully for them; if they have never read one of the three books I have out there right now I will never value their opinion. Still, selling one book per year is not going to turn into a meal ticket. Most writers will tell you that you write because you enjoy it, not because you are trying to make money in it, and that may be true, but, damn it, my stuff has been sitting around for over four years! It’s enough to drive me insane because I have all these stories floating around in my head and no time to put them all down because I have to work a blue-collar job to keep the bills paid and food on the table. Very little time is devoted to the art in which I believe I’m good at.

Another thing is don’t try to give me advice, it’ll go through one ear and out the other because you do not know my fucking situation, you do not know my fucking life and you do not know me at all. What system that works for one person doesn’t necessarily work for the other schmuck, such as myself. I follow a few simple rules. Number one is to keep your facts in order and keep an outline. This is Writing 101 here because one time I thought I would be a hot shot and try to write a story straight though and ended up with seventy-three pages of background to the story before the action started. When I read this load of bile I was marveled at the stupidity that fueled me and wondered what possessed me to write in this sort of manner. I, however, didn’t scrap the story, rather, I put those first pages aside and turned it into an outline to go back on later and started the novel where the action began. Now it doesn’t try to put me to sleep, rather it’s more engaging, which brings me to my second rule I go by; GET THE READERS ATTENTION RIGHT AWAY!

I don’t want to bore them and if my story bores me, chances are it’ll bore the bubblegum pop culture brainchild of today’s world. It is hard enough that I cannot explain what kind of genre I write about because I don’t write a set genre. I have one detective horror novel written in first person, one vampire novel that has the central character I created over a decade ago and a collection of stories with one short novel in there which was my second attempt to write something long form and barely any of it seen in the outside world. Still, none of it bore me; rather, they kept me excited.

The third rule I go by is keep myself aware of my surroundings because, really, it’s all I have to go by. News reports, PDF file books, the dusty ones I have at my home, telecasts, or just something I saw on the way to Meijer’s, I try to incorporate it in all I write and do with the written word and try my damnedest not to let my temper get in the way because that would turn me into a stick of dynamite in the side of the wall that would be accepted moral and social behavior. Yet I still think it’s a good idea because there’s no such thing as bad publicity, that’s why I’m currently trying to write a book on a state leaving the union. I’ll either get in really big trouble with it or no one in this world will give a flying fuck. If I were a betting man, my money would be on the latter of the two; I’m easily ignored.

After that, I have no fucking clue as in to what to do about my writing and no one around me has a fucking clue either. They have their own lives to contend with and really don’t give a damn that my books don’t sell and try really hard not to tell me just to give it all up. Personally, I have it in my will, that if I die before I become professionally published to the point where I can enjoy the success that comes with it, that all my writings will be pulled off so that nobody can touch it, not even my surviving family. It costs thirty dollars to get a Library of Congress number for your work, don’t even think I haven’t done that by now, the work belongs to me, not you little hacker twits, and need be, it will go with me to my grave. It is not my fault that the majority of people who run literary agencies and publishing companies are nothing more the self important, uneducated cumshots who wouldn’t know a really good seller if it even decided to crawl up their ass like a butt monkey! I’ve already made up my mind.

Furthermore, I have no fucking clue in how to market myself. I do not kiss ass well, can you tell? So marketing my books and myself is out of the question. And writer’s workshops, well don’t get me started on those. I have a set vision for my stories and it does not fit their rules at all. Yes, dear reader, I have a divine plan. Whether or not that divine plan sees it’s fruition is up to the world to buy the damned books! I’m sick and tired of standing here!

And one last thing, and this is kind of for the writer starting out who thinks it’s a great idea to bypass the rejection letters (I received so many at one point that I didn’t need to buy toilet paper for a year! Imagine my excitement.) and go into print on demand, go straight to lulu.com because that place will not bullshit you and you have some say in managing your work. I went to Xlibris for my first one and I’ve been regretting it ever since. The only good this did for me in spending most of my tax return was the books on lightning source (They tell you Ingram books, instead of Ingrams off shoot service) the Library of Congress number, the official copywrite, and the ISBN numbers, not to mention placement onto amazon.com and a bevy of online bookselling orifices. After that, it has been nothing with them than talking to someone from India about shelling out my hard earned money for a marketing scheme that may or may not work. They even have payment plans for these marketing schemes that are still outrageous. I will not talk to them anymore until I get a telemarketer from them who do two things. Number one; their first language is English; and believe me I can tell by the accent and how they stumble over certain words; and number two; that they don’t mispronounce the title of my collection. It is entitled Listen Like Fiends and to the life I me I cannot even fathom why these people cannot pronounce “fiends” correctly. They always want to say friends. Now I just tell them “I have never written a book with that title.” Normally I hear a good five seconds of silence, then some stuttering, and then they asking me if I’m H.R. Green. Currently it’s fun for me, but after a while it gets old when it happens every month. I used to drive a semi truck and had these fucktards call me while driving down the road wanting to do “business” because my book isn’t “moving.” Well if it is not moving, allow me to take it off your shelves and move it to lulu.com with the l.o.c. number, copywrite, and ISBN intact since I own them anyway. I paid a grand to make that happen. From what I can understand with lulu.com I can pay a little over three hundred dollars for the same effect, without, of course, a marketing plan, and they won’t fucking hound me.

Incidentally, I finally received my first royalty check from Xlibris last year for two dollars. Hardly the royalties I was expecting from selling ten books off their shelves. Of course nine of them were through amazon.com, but it says in their website I get royalties from also selling from other online sites. That’s bullshit, it is just selling off their site. I framed the check. I waiting on lulu.com to see what kind of bullshit they do to me.

Scriptor Caveo.

See you all on the flip side.

H.R. Green, 21st of October, 2009, 12:12 p.m. Burtchville, MI

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Gassy Screw Job

So the shitheads in their infinite wisdom have decided to blow the gas prices through the roof again. What is their reason this time? The economy is getting better? That’s untrue as their over exaggerated fuel prices were a contributing factor in the economy’s slowdown; at least how I saw it, so why the fuck do they think we will ignore it again? I know I am not. Maybe the threat of countries changing their trading currency of crude oil from American to Euro could be it? That’s slightly more credible to me, still, that’s no reason why the barons need to start acting like bullies again and upping the price to make their quick profits.

Now, I’ll admit, I have no sources as of yet, I only have my own observations and convictions but there is one thing I do know about the stupidity of raising these prices out of nowhere. The higher gas prices go up, the more you are about to create a state of anarchy. Do you really think people will stay complacent and stupid while you steal their hard earned money? Well, that may be a possibility, however, I also know it only takes one fire under someone’s ass to start a mob or a crowd frenzy and maybe on charismatic voice to turn the world against corporations. Yes, there may be truth to when the world is gone to anarchy it will be the downfall for us, but I constantly see the wick on this powder keg getting lit and no one is saying a word.

Again, this is just my humble opinion. I’m sure more credible people, such as economists, political science historians, and those with degrees in social behavior will debunk my “theories” as I do not see myself as a conspiracy theorist, and my opinion will turn to these self important, self omnipotent assholes and say that they are paid off by the very same companies they are defending. True, I might be wrong, but with me not knowing a thing and not allowed to know anything, it’s what I think; it’s my opinion and I’m going to say it.

Now I name companies again; in the gas wars I have absolutely no customer loyalty here, if you have the lowest price, I’m fueling there, plain and simple. I’ll even fuel at Wal-Mart’s gas stations even though I will not shop in a Wal-Mart unless it’s the only store to shop at. I get more extreme with gas companies. I ignore Exxon-Mobil; I avoid them like a cancerous plague, those greedy bastards don’t deserve my money though I am sure they don’t care, they have everyone else’s. But they’re on top with record profits all the time; fuck them. The only time I will fuel at an Exxon or Mobil station is when it’s the only place for miles and my fuel gage has been on “E” for the past fifteen minutes to a half an hour, and that’s being kind. And I understand there are many independent stations with the Exxon or Mobil moniker on them who try their best in keeping prices low. All I can say to them is switch brands and you will be kept from being treated like dirt or worse.

And one final thing; who the fuck decides how high the prices are at in different parts of the country because where I live unemployment is at a premium and we pay premium price for gas. What the hell, do you ship the oil by canoe around here? The problem is I soon see much less stations and they’ll be build like banks because we will get fed up, we will show up in mobs and we will take it away without paying. Granted, I understand that’ll raise the price even more but if you didn’t and don’t raise the price that all will be prevented. At least, that’s how I see it all unfold. You upper one percent have to stop fucking the rest of us over. Then again, while I write this blog, nobody really reads it, so I am not much of a threat. But truly, I can be made to shut up the right way, and it’s not about finally selling my books and become the success that I strive to be, oh no, the payment to make me shut up, I say to those fuckwit Neanderthals in charge, you will not like, trust me.

The price is $2.77 here today! LOWER THE FUCKING PRICE NOW!

H.R. Green, 20th of October, 2009, 11:07 a.m. Burtchville, MI

Monday, October 19, 2009

Don't Know What You Got...

Ever have the feeling inside of you that creates a lump in the pit of your stomach when something is about to change, and I’m not talking good change? Something that you know you won’t like and it’s going to happen anyway and you cannot do anything to stop it. Such as breaking up with a friend or significant other, or you are about to be fired, social services are about to stop by and mess up your family life because some nosey neighbor decided to become a second long humanitarian and made a phone call to name a few. Well, since I’ve had that feeling for the past three days I am here to ask what you all do to combat it. Since you see it coming what are some ideas that you do to make yourselves feel better and not go crazy? Over here I’m desperately trying to figure out what I am supposed to do to not got totally bugfuck because I know what I have to do if it hasn’t already been done yet on the other person’s side.

The other thing is keeping one’s self from not becoming vengeful against said target because bad things will happen to you. I used to be really nasty when I was younger. I didn’t know that piece of information then but I know it now. I also know my temper has not gotten any better with age; it’s still a knee jerk reaction to everyday occurrences, so I still have a penchant to be violent. So I always try my best to avoid conflict and confrontation because my answer to those problems is never a good one the first time around and sometimes the second and third ones aren’t Mensa choices either. But when it came to my continuous circle of friends, there was, and sometimes still is, a revolving door. Lets just say I had an alarming turnover rate when it came to friends. Now, in my thirties, I think I have changed.

Give me some good ideas on how to keep me grounded guys because writing and chopping wood aren’t always enough.

As usual I will get over it, I always do. And I will survive, I normally do; through death and destruction I tend to prevail, healthier, stronger, and more cynical than before. It’s just another crappy test that I have failed. But now that I’ve done my bellyaching, it’s time to man up and pull back out my alpha male self and trudge onward with a thicker skin.

H.R. Green, 19th of October, 2009, 10:30 a.m. Burtchville, MI

Sunday, October 18, 2009

"Technology Has Brought Us These Self-Important Twits"

You know, sometimes I walk about in this country and think that maybe we should have licenses based totally on social etiquette. The problem is there’s no rational system we can use on the behavior patterns of people. Now I will constantly revert back to times where I have stated that even I have a momentary lapse in judgment and reason and do something downright stupid and usually there either a cute girl and/or alcohol involved. I freely admit I am human as well and am not infallible, I am prone to making really stupid mistakes. That said, I do get amazed on how dumb witted the human race has become. I mean these huge amounts of responsibility and we play with them like a Tonka toy instead of treating them like the privileges that they are. Now I’m targeting one group; us guys, and I’m targeting one piece of technology; the cell phone.

What the fuck is up with this contraption and us? I even catch myself about to abuse the cell phone privilege by talking in it when I am in the check out line. The person on the other line MUST understand that I have to pay attention to everything but that current conversation I’m having with them and after I am done, depending on the person or mood, I may call them back to continue on what we were talking about. Still, I have the ability to become oblivious to my surroundings once I’m on my cell.

The bluetooth head set has made it worse. The only place a person is supposed to be using that contraption is when driving a vehicle. See, this is why it was created for the common man, when you are driving down the road you can take a call without the threat of a police officer deciding to pull you over because he sees a contraption in your ear and there’s a local law against such behavior that you were unaware about. It is also wonderful for us truck drivers because we can talk and still have use of both of our arms which is much needed while transporting a vehicle that can legally get up to 40 tons in weight. Yeah, peeps who don’t drive a commercial vehicle, 40 tons; and to you lamens that’s eighty thousand pounds, to put it in perspective; the bluetooth is a God send to us. The problem is it lends to my biggest pet peeve with the cell phone and us guys.

There are certain times in a day that you are not supposed to answer and talk on a cell phone EVER! In the checkout lane is one; it is not only rude to the cashier but it is rude to the people behind the dumbass. Get the fuck off the phone, pay for your items, get into your car so we don’t have to deal with your arrogant ass and then resume your conversation on your phone, you precious twit. Quite possible, since you have established that you are oblivious to the world, hopefully you’ll resume while driving so you can have a cop pull you over and get a ticket or maybe run into a cow, utility pole, or tree. Either way, I hope it’ll not kill you, because I don’t wish that on anyone, and maybe, possibly, jar some common sense into your pea-sized brain, you amoeba!

The second case is when they are driving, but I’m sure you’ve all heard it before. I know I am no better than them honking my horn behind them so they can realize they are actually in a deadly situation. They normally panic and nearly swerve you off the road, not a good idea.

And finally, third, and this is really sick, do not fucking answer you phone while you are in the middle of doing anything in the rest room or bathroom; this includes taking a bath or just sitting in the Jacuzzi. When I am on the phone with someone I don’t want that visual. I have a friend of mine who used to do that constantly to me. He’d call up and immediately I would hear the sound of water splashing so I cannot help but chastise him; “Oh man you’re in the Jacuzzi again! Oh why, why, why?”

But the worst in the bathroom is when they decide to answer the phone while relieving themselves at the urinal or doing their business in the stall… Yep, I will give some of you some time to let that sink in, including you ladies, they are talking on the phone while making a protein deposit. I really wouldn’t mind so much if it wasn’t for the straining noises they make while on the phone, WHO THE FUCK WANTS TO HEAR THAT?! NOT I! Leave that business away from that area, please, for the sake of those who don’t give a fuck about your life around you and whoever is on the other end of that phone. I have already determined out of self-evaluation that you have absolutely no class, please don’t prove me right. For all I know there are some sick bastards who would use their blackberry to take a picture of their business and send it with people with the caption, “Look! Corn!”

And with that last thought I will leave you all to your day to day lives.

H.R. Green, 18th of October, 2009, 11:17 a.m. Burtchville, MI

Friday, October 16, 2009

Carpe Faba

Here’s something for the aging process; caffeine really doesn’t do it for me anymore. It’s supposed to keep people alert and energized but with me it seems I’m falling faster and faster asleep.

Now I always find out my limits but that doesn’t necessarily mean I follow them. If I really need a quick pick me up for energy, one energy drink is sufficient for 4 hours, after that I can do one of two things. I can go to sleep, like I’m supposed to, but when you are a truck driver you don’t normally have that option; or you have the next best thing, drink another energy drink. Yeah, that’s a really good idea for me; my legs get rubbery, I feel woozy and I get loopy. Not a good idea when you try to convey a professional image. But this shit is big business. There’s my favorite, Monster (Assault to be specific), then there’s Amp, made by Pepsi. I remember when Amp came in a can no bigger than Red Bull, then next brand on the list. (Tastes like liquid sweet tarts) Then there’s Nos, Rock Star, Venom, SoBe (Another favorite of mine. They should have never gotten rid of Mr. Green.), Full Throttle, Jolt is now an energy drink, locally Faygo made one, or at least distributed, Whoop Ass, which was awesome. Opening a can of whoop ass, especially during a LARP was always symbolic to me. Further down the list I go I also see those five hour energy shots and some Arizona Iced Tea cans. They’ve also have gone so far as to put caffeine into beer! What the fuck is up with this shit; beer? Have you people lost your minds? I do not want to be both buzzed drunk and alert, that is not a good fucking time for me. Then there are those java shots, so these energy drinks aren’t enough now they have to add coffee to the mix.

Lets move back a few steps.

Remember a simpler time when we had Coca-Cola, Pepsi, and Mountain Dew? (And I’m not talking the bullshit with the high fructose corn syrup; I’m talking the real shit with real sugar. Throwback should be a necessary item since they’ve toyed with my emotions.) That was pretty much it, along with coffee and tea. Then your local, store brand, and regional colas. (Yes, I forgot RC Cola, forgive me.) That was all there was to offer, you didn’t have all these other nutcase drinks.

I think if I would have acquired a taste for coffee that I would have never gone to these carbonated beverages, or “soft drinks,” as that term is such an oxy moron. If they were soft drinks why do they cause teeth rotting to those who drink it way too much? I call them “pop” so deal; you cook with “soda.” I would have enjoyed a more natural pick me up with coffee, I know this, but I never liked the taste, therefore I was doomed to drink cola and Faygo Red Pop. Drink Faygo Red Pop!

Seize the bean!

Now to switch topics really quick; to you hunters out there who could have read the earlier post, bow season started in Michigan on October 1st, however I started this blog on the eighth and just got inspired to write that prose last night. I’m an avid hunter who hasn’t been out there for a couple of years now and truly miss it. May all of you bag a buck this year.

H.R. Green, 16th of October, 2009, 1:48 p.m. Burtchville, MI

May the Hunter Prevail

The sun has just lifted itself high enough to see farther than ten feet in front of your face. You have been able to sell burned leaves in the distance from area farmers trying to clear for their harvest and see faint fog around you. In your pockets is your trusty Bowie knife, and bag of half eaten venison jerky and a over creased book that you’ve read over and over again. The cold of the air freezes your nose and makes you think it is as red as Rudolph’s and your breath creates clouds. You had your chair set in the tree since five in the morning to give yourself enough time for one to stray from their herd to meet your sights and you know you will not be disappointed. You have practiced and prepared for this day; you and your friends, you have made all the preparations to make your time in the woods a successful one. You hear a crow caw in the distance and the wind fill in the gaps. This is your special place, it always has been your perfect place and this is your perfect morning. You are patient, you are cunning, and you are true. You are a hunter.

Then you finally stiffen up; you hear some leaves rustling in the brush, then it stops but you are still alert. You ready an arrow in your compact bow and watch your radius like a hawk. Again, rustling of leaves, but now they are louder, the noise has more purpose; it’s heavier with each movement. By now you have been in the woods often enough that you know exactly where it is coming from and exactly how fast. You sit as still as a lizard, the bow pulled to your ear, your grip tight, yet loose and a small bead of sweat slowly falling down the side of your face. The blood is rushing through your heart and veins, as it does not matter how often you have been here before you still get excited about the anticipation of the kill. And still, even though you were ready for it, he emerges from the foliage. He trots slowly in your line of fire, unable to detect that you are so near that you could kick him, but that would be stupid. You take a split second to admire the buck’s majesty and then you just let the arrow fly straight into the side of his neck and a damn good shot it was; must have dug into the deer a good two to three inches but just as soon as you are ready to break out the brew in celebration, the buck takes off running. Now you know the chase is on. Without caring what you leave behind you slide down the tree like a man on a fire pole and take off in the same direction. You know that the deer has a good amount of space between you and him as he is desperately running back to the herd but by now you know that they are either gone or conquered by a friend or two of yours. You know this deer has no chance, you, the hunter, have been at this too long. This is your backwoods, your place of peace and wisdom with nature that blends with your need as a conqueror as it has provided this very moment your kill.

You have run a mile as you climb a hill and look down a clearing. There you see him, the buck you hit. He holds a magnificent rack of nine points and can barely keep him moving. Your inflicted wound has slowed the deer down and he knows, instinctively, that you are behind him. The beast does not know he is beaten, his instinct will not allow him to but his confusion give you enough time to pull the bow back one more time to your ear and let the arrow fly. With luck you hit him in nearly the same place as the buck screams in pain and falls on his front knees. You come closer, anticipating any sudden or last attempt movements but this dear just stares at you, first his eyes seems to furrow then let go of it’s anger and pain as it falls to the side, conceding his fight to you, the victor.

You are a hunter, not a glutton, as the woods have provided and you are thankful. The buck’s rack is your trophy and his meat for the nourishment for you and your family. The cold of the air has overtaken your body again as the adrenaline that has pumped through your body has ceased. Your perfect place has proven itself true and with respect you leave with your one kill and vow to come back next year in hopes nature grants your wish once again.

Venator increbresco.

H.R. Green, 16th of October, 2009, 12:28 a.m. Burtchville, MI

Thursday, October 15, 2009

Big Box Bang Theory

I’m going to name company names now…

Three years ago Wal-Mart decided, like they do in most communities they have a store, to change their regular low-grade retail store into a super center. Well, that’s really not true, that’s only true with the casual observer who’s ignorant to history. Wal-Mart wanted to up grade to their hypermart for quite sometime at that point because they were and are desperate to crush the competition around them. Finally they jump through the hoops the township laid out for them and were able to build their new store right next door to their competition that’s up here, Meijer, a store that’s been doing the hypermart thing since Wal-Mart opened their first store and doing the grocery business since Sam Walton was still in his diapers. Gee, we aren’t trying to be obvious, are we? A Costco was supposed to go in that lot, I was so pissed about that day.

I have delivered to Wal-Mart Distribution Centers, Sam’s Club Distribution Centers, and a few of their stores, not to mention shopped in them, begrudgingly, and there is a serious trend of apathy and self entitlement with this chain. Previously to Sam Walton’s death, I had no problem with Wal-Mart, rather, it was a pleasant experience to walk in there and shop. The employees and management were eager to help you and the stores were had a great variety of items and were well kept, a lot like a Meijer, whereas K-Mart just fell of the fucking table and hasn’t really got back up. Now Wal-Mart is the same way in most places, especially where they exist will little to no competition, with shelves of disarrayed mess and dirty floors and restrooms, to staff who barely go through the motions and make you stand in place for two hours when you have a one minute question about an item. And, no, that wasn’t during Christmas, that incident was in the summer during the down season. During this quest of world domination their own money hungry success is fucking them up the ass. Personally I’d give the corporation a dry enema, but then again, that’s my answer for anything I think needs a readjustment, something that won’t kill you but will get your attention, it will be painful for a while so you can think it over, and is embarrassing at the same time; compressed hot air where the sun don’t shine.

Now I’m not really rooting for them. On the contrary, I would love to see this corporation crash and burn and eventually, it will, or at least shrink back to mostly south of the Mason-Dixon line or most places will have variety again instead of me driving through the landscape seeing Wal-Mart’s litter the American and Canadian landscape. I don’t know what was done differently before old man Walton passed away, but there has been a strong sense that something has and you need to go back to it. Otherwise I will spurn Wal-Mart as if I would spurn a rabid dog.
H.R. Green, 15th of October, 2009, 11:13 a.m Burtchville, MI

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Party 'Til it's 1899!

Here is something that fascinates me a little, maybe someone out there can help me with this?

Not too long ago I started reading up on literature that has been classified as “steampunk;” the whole speculative “what if” type of fiction that somehow we could incorporate this day as plausible fact but walking around looking like a Rube Goldberg drawing. Now I am not totally against it, rather, I’m very curious on the whole society of it all. Not to mention that there’s a band out there who revels on the steampunk theme called Abbey Park, but whole groups of people who go out to steampunk gatherings and party down like it was 1899. Hell, I even constructed steampunk goggles myself, just to see if I could do it. Out of flip top welder’s goggles I tried to make it look like it was made of leather and copper, with a flashlight and laser pointer light on one side of it and able to pull out a jeweler’s magnifier on the other side. I also can play my gameboy out of it if I plug it into another outlet or even the car. There’s clockwork mechanisms all around the goggles but I feel I need one that’s a little larger and works longer to make it look like everything mechanical that works on it seems like it’s working off the clockwork parts. It’s amateurish in style and workmanship, but it’s also a work in progress. I love the fact I can wear these things over my glasses with little discomfort. I also have a black three piece suit and a black top hat so now all I am missing is where to go. And if I find a steampunk gathering, what do I do then; stand around and dance with myself?

I am a role-player, okay; I’ve been playing role-playing games since I was ten. Starting with Advanced Dungeons and Dragons, then second addition, I graduated up to Werewolf: the Apocalypse and thought it was one of the coolest things. I also had my fair share of the Palladium megaverse, so I’ve been pretty heavy in role-playing. Somehow, I lost my way and started playing Magic: The Gathering a lot, but my finances got worse as the demand for buying cards to play grew, so that got put on the way side and I went back to role-playing with Vampire and live action role playing and I haven’t looked back since. Hence why, with this steampunk stuff, I would think there were some sort of role-playing thing going on since, basically, people are standing around acting like someone they aren’t in a time period that isn’t now. I haven’t played Deadlands, and I know it was developed into a LARP at one time, plus the Wild Wild West movie, albeit shitty, (Hey, they needed to use Salma Hayek’s bare ass to make it half way decent.) used a lot of steampunk things in the wild western setting. Then there is the current favorite, “Warehouse 13” that also falls back on steampunk “technology” so it isn’t like a group cannot stage something cool for “characters.”

But I love the concept, so if anyone around here could throw me a bone about this kind of idea, it would be much abliged.

On another topic, the search on the filmmakers didn’t go so well, but I have the rest of the night so it isn’t that bad. I’d say by my books and read my stuff but I’ll just sound like a broken record, so, I’m out like a light.
H.R. Green, 13th of October, 2009, 6:25 p.m. Burtchville, MI

Tuesday Night Set Up

There’ll be a full blog later tonight as I plan to look through all these independent filmmakers and see which one would be interested, possibly, in turning one of my stories into a film.

It could happen!
Meanwhile, here’s a weekly moment of zen. I’m sure many have seen this, but it’s where my brain is at currently.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=je_zryp9fwU&NR=1

That and trying to keep the alluring qualities of this actress out of my head, and no I ain't going to fucking tell you who it is, but really, I need to get her out of my bloody head; must keep from being a dirty old man!

Really, will I? No, I am fucking hopeless because she's gorgeous.

Monday, October 12, 2009

Sometimes I Wonder Where I've Been

To hell and back? Sometimes I even wonder myself how I got here in the first place.

I have always joked, in a cruel manner I’ll admit, that my father was a man who never went over the hill; he fell down a cliff. I’ve seen certain period pictures of the man from his early twenties and then mid to late twenties and nature wasn’t kind. That never took away from the man’s personality or sense of humor. I can easily say to this day those two qualities about him are as lively as ever. But as I look at this I remember looking at myself years ago and wonder if that was my fate too; I was going to fall down that cliff. My personality wasn’t nearly as happy go lucky as my dads. On the contrary, I was mean spirited, nasty, and down right vengeful at times. My attitude made friends around me run for the door and never allow me the chance to go to bed with any of my muses. Yes, damn it; I’m still sore about that.

Yes I have aged and I would like to say aged quite well. I still have my hair, it’s getting to be white, but I still have hair and you can always dye that, but other things, physically, I just shake my head. But this is not how I’ve aged physically, rather, it’s how I’ve aged personality wise and mentally and really, where I’ve been.

Everyone has always heard the following phrase from their parents, “Don’t touch that, you don’t know where it’s been,” right? Well, that can pertain to me because sometimes I don’t know where I’ve really been. Currently, being a truck driver, there are places I’ve been I really don’t like to mention in mixed company and really would rather think it no longer exists. Some of the most unsavory places you are sent that you don’t ever want to go back; most of them are in the New York City area (These places are quite infamous in one way or another). ::Coughs ‘Hunts Point’:: But moreover, the truck stops I have had the misfortune to turn my nose up upon and some of the people who ensconce their hallowed walls. I don’t really like to name names here, mainly because I don’t remember all the details, but there are some areas on the American map that I would like people to avoid as much as possible. (Points at Hunt’s Point for an example.) Please, I must run the red light and possible run into oncoming traffic just so malicious cum shots try to steal my haul? And we aren’t allowed to pack a gun in our trucks, why? If I’m not allowed to have a firearm of my choice don’t ever send me there again! Well, that company didn’t; instead they sent me somewhere on Manhattan. Oh, that went over well!

Ontario, California as a couple of truck stops opposite each other at the same exit, both of the same brands and I’ve stayed at both of them. I believe in my heart of hearts that one of those stops really deserves to be bombed from orbit. I tried to give the place the benefit of the doubt and only hoped for a dry enema but that will not clean it up; it must be wiped off the map. There are other truck stops that have been questionable but this one needs a serious…something to be done to them. And while I’m at it, seriously some of you drivers are just fucking children after I go into a restroom, not only at a truck stop but at a rest area? What are you, like seven? And don’t get me started with the foreign fucktards who decide to answer their cell phone while either in the process of using their stall or the urinal. I really cannot believe that the person on the other side really wants to listen to you have a bowel movement. But then again, judging by the kind of person that you are I should not be surprised that your friends are just as bad, if not, worse than you. Please don’t get me wrong, most professional drivers are calm, courteous, rational human beings who are just trying to make a living out there and provide for themselves, their family, and their friends and are usually the best drivers on the road, it’s just these primitive Neanderthals (and I don’t give that term as a compliment here) who think they have this personal “entitlement” and mess with things as much as they can, like showing their artistry or writing how they’ve mastered the English languages or posting phone numbers of friends they want to share. I really want to slap them in the face with a trout then shove it up their ass so they can feel first hand as what happens when piss off the American dream and it has made it the worlds business. They really don’t want that attention.

I have been to all major American cities with the exception of Honolulu and Anchorage. I plan to, someday, visit the states these cities dwell in before my race decides to blow the planet up. Maybe, someday, I’ll get the chance to go to the American Virgin Islands, Puerto Rico, and Guam; that would be sweet. The entire lower forty-eight, however, I’ve seen; the good and the bad. I’ve also visited five Canadian provinces, which tends to be rare since most Michiganders only go to Ontario. I’m sure I’m not missing much with the provinces of the plains, I have yet to wander onto Newfoundland or take an afternoon to view Prince Edward Island, but I have this strange feeling I’ll see the Yukon before all that.

And then there’s England back in 1992. Now I’ll say this for the land who still calls us the colonies, at least they speak English; well, their form of English and don’t have jack offs who decided that they don’t want to speak English and believe their language needs to be intergraded into the country landscape. Still, I cam across some real winners back then but not bad enough to enjoy my week long stay in the country, be in attendance for “A Concert for Life” at Wembly Stadium and catch an Arsenal match, so it was all good.
So, in a really long way, that’s where this tired body has been and I feel I’m not done yet, just have to figure out the how and why to accomplish that goal and yeah, both Dad and I fell down a cliff but we both stood up, brushed off the dirt and kept walking.

H.R. Green, 12th of October, 2009, 11:21 a.m. Burtchville, MI

Saturday, October 10, 2009

Bubblegum Prophecies

Here's a little number I tossed off early this morning.

From my mind I work
From my mind I sleep
For my mind spews forth bubblegum prophecies
That the entire world should eat.

Maybe they don’t like to be preached
Maybe they can’t stand to think
Maybe they can’t handle to be challenged
When a new point of view is there to drink.

I tire endlessly
With nearly unbending will
Still I am ignored by the masses
And I know I have the skill.

I can mask everything
Into an entertaining way
All my literature is ready for judgment
As I throw it all into the fray.

My bubblegum prophecies yell out the pain
They will shout love at the heart of the world
They will attempt to rip the amber from your soul
Sarcasm, darkness, and questions will form if they could.

I long to be heard
I long to see love
And I fight to be accepted
Still I feel I’m always rejected from above

All of my muses have hated me
Most of my teachers suppressed me
My life has been a downward spiral
Brought out for the reader to see.

Turned crazy by this bubblegum junk
Stuck in a world I cannot create
With situations I cannot change
And people I cannot manipulate.

Still I have a vision I feel I must share
Plucked out of the fucking air
Working on my craft diligently
So it doesn’t look like it came out of my derriere.

So to those who don’t know my feelings, I’m sorry
To those who do know, I apologized to too
The bubblegum prophecies take over my brain
And I don’t know what else to say or do.

Well, that's the thought. In summation I'm feeling really depressed this morning. Must be all that fucking rain. There are other things, but I choose not to write it here, even though I'm pretty much writing a blog to myself.

I'm out like a light.

H.R. Green, 10th of October 2009, 11:21 a.m. Burtchville, MI

Friday, October 9, 2009

Touchy Subjects

Okay, yes I do swear a lot, sometimes at great length and I seem rather good at it too. But I am also a parent and because of that I try to eliminate profanity from my vernacular. This doesn’t always work in real life; look at the previous blog about certain ignorant people for an example. I cuss and carry on just like an angry teenager, so my blog will be filled with fowl language and phrases but there are things that I will not speak in detail on this blog.

First is sex. I will bring it up but I will definitely not write in detail. I don’t even write about it in detail in my books as it’s almost always a scene that’s fade to black or in the background as the reader knows that it is going on or has been going on but I will not put it into the readers face like a bad thirty-five millimeter porn film or a trashy novel from a five and dime. (That’s a store like Woolworths, Ben Franklin’s, or Kresge’s. I know you kids will have no idea on some stuff that I bring up. So sue me, I’m old.) I will, however bring up women, for I am a guy, and try my best not to degrade them, for that is wrong to do. Some of my women friend have asked me what I have against them reading some of my stories as I had no clue I did. ::Shrug:: Apparently I do, but that is totally against me because I love women. But when it comes to sex, there is a line I have drawn, and I don’t cross it.

Second are children. Unless it’s a nasty, whiny, incorrigible brat that the parents have stopped trying to control and has turned into a complete terror and has made it your business to do something about it, leave them alone and let them grow up; they’re kids! They are still learning and their minds still molding and, in most senses, innocent in mind and soul. Sure they’re going to say stuff off color and kilter some times but only they think it’s perfectly fine. That’s what a parent is for and I hope to all things they have at least one even though I’m aware that they may not. Something else that sucks.

Third is over excessive violence. Now I don’t condone violence at all, and as a matter of fact I try damned hard to avoid violence of any sort because I tend to get very nasty, but it does happen in the world a lot. I also know there are people out there who need a mental goose to get them back on the path of half way normal. For example slapping them in the face with a trout or worse because, remember, if you kill them they won’t learn nothin’.

Well that it this time in talking to myself. Catch y’all later.

H.R. Green, 9th of October 2009, 2:45 p.m. Burtchville, MI

Yield!

I may strike on this in other blogs, but damn it I have a hard time with this and I’m not sure how to improve the human race from this problem. I’m just one person and yes, I am prone to this sickness from time to time and I am sure that not all homo sapiens, especially you who happen to stumble onto my blog (yeah, a lot of sarcasm here), but people really need to start paying attention to their surroundings.

It comes with basic things like driving a vehicle or something very basic like walking. It really irks me when men and women constantly ignore basic directions. Now, I understand we all are guilty to screw up here and there. I’ve even caught myself doing an idiotic thing and wondered what the hell was wrong with me? Simple; to err is human, but to constantly do the same stupid thing over and over again falls under ignorance and suspect to be a candidate for reeducation.

Even my eldest son is influenced by this behavior. He shoved a shopping cart in front of my car with the idea that it made it easier for the store employees to collect all of the carts. Mainly the little pain was being a lazy butt. There was one of those areas where you are supposed to put the cart back was only fifteen steps away; boy that pissed me off. Once I’ve had a jerk off leave his cart right behind my car. Now granted, I didn’t know what possessed him to do that, even though he had the misfortune of me being there witnessing the whole ting, other than blatant stupidity, but I’ll admit, I wasn’t as nice when I put that cart back behind his car before he moved. Now if I didn’t see him do it, I would have put that cart back where it belonged.

Maybe it’s true that there are people out there who walk with a neutral zone around their heads and the live in another world where purple pigs fly upside down and the sky is colored in puce. But what shocks me is when I bring them back down to reality the get all pissed off. “Dude you’re being stupid and making us look bad; stop it!” I mean there are reasons why we have sidewalks and crosswalks; there are reasons why we have turn signals on our vehicles and they are not there to only be used when we have that rare moment of being civil or courteous; last I checked it’s the law to use them. The only reason why we don’t is because the police don’t always enforce them and so, like a four-year-old child, we think we are entitled with this bad behavior. I shudder to think how far they think they can take the ignorant bad behavior because I see it everyday.

It brings me to another pet peeve, however, and I know it isn’t against the law, rather, in extreme weather conditions and certain forms of traffic patterns it’s encouraged, but when conditions are normal on the road and there are no traffic jams to speak of, please, by God, don’t not create a traffic parade by driving five to ten miles per hour under the speed limit. Now I’ll admit I have a bit of a led foot and would normally go beyond the limit, but in my later years I’ve tempered that urge and come closer to the limit for both economic and safety reasons, but to go under it creates new problems, especially on a two lane state highway where you cannot pass those who decide in their omnipotent wisdom that we all MUST drive forty-one miles per hour in a fifty-five miles per hour zone; that line of thinking better fucking stop soon. Plus they have a hard time making left and right turns and dart out into the road at the wrong fucking times. I’ve noticed it takes four to five opportunities before one in a car is able to make a right hand turn into traffic because their timing sucks. Look if you cannot drive properly either move out of the way of the people who can or get off the road and go back to the Secretary of State’s office to retrain. I tire of those drivers who are timid and lack the ability to keep with the traffic. And, like my father, when I notice I suck at driving, something else that will tick me off, then I will decide to have others drive me. My old man finally realized he couldn’t do it anymore and decided to stop driving and there was a five year period where I tried to encourage him to stop. There’s one thing about him, he definitely has the common sense that most humans require but sometimes pride does get into the way. I certainly don’t blame the guy at all.

On lighter notes, I’m back at work on my fourth book again, hopefully I’ll figure out the best way to start it as all I have is a title, Blood Water. I have also decided to undertake converting a memoir of my grandfather that my mother took on upon herself in creating and preserving. I will soon preserve it further in making versions of it onto lulu.com, mainly for my family to have better copies of it and maybe for others who may enjoy that sort of thing.

And one more thing, a thought that came to me while writing this blog, and that is:

“My collaborator and I create many story ideas within our conversations. I so wish I had the time to create all of it into stories.”

See you all on the flip side:

H.R. Green, 9th of October, 2009, 12:25 p.m. Burtchville, MI

Thursday, October 8, 2009

Random Idiotic Banter.

So lets start this crazy experiment

I go by H.R. but my friends call me Randy. I have done a plethora of odd jobs in the past but I do fancy myself in being a writer. I have links somewhere on this blog that will connect you to the websites of my three books and other merchandise I have created, so, yeah, this blog is going to do some plugging of my stuff. If you like, thank you I hope you enjoy the stuff. If you don’t like it, I am sure I’m going to hear about it, possibly at great length.

To warn all who peruse here I am a loud mouth. A lot of times I spew forth vernacular without thinking it through. I also have this quick temper that becomes a problem at times and sort of gets in the way of logical thinking. It used to be I would take common criticism in the past, normally coming in the form of “Dude, shut the fuck up!” in a really bad way, acting upon such help in an irrational manner. Now, I’ll give it a little pause before giving such help a “response.”

I’ll maybe add some excerpts from my books, add some sappy poetry (okay, maybe not) and some small short stories or ideas that haven’t come to fruition yet in some published form. Anyway, I won’t lie, I’m nervous about this blog and I will try like hell not to be too lazy with it so cut me a little slack as I relearn to write a continuous column (note* back in the day that is what this type of thing was called when they were printed and published in newspapers and magazines), because, essentially, that is what this fracking thing is, a column. And please, check out my books and stuff; items from the Fiends’ Booth for all to enjoy (plug), at least I think it’s really cool shit. C’mon, you know you want to have postage stamps with Daemon’s face on it; you know you do.

Until sometime in the near future, I’m out like a light

H.R. Green
11:46 a.m. 8th of October, 2009Burtchville, MI