To the Moon Alice. To The Moon Do You want To go To The Moon?
A Trip to the Moon – the 1902 Science Fiction Film
by Georges Méliès
Figured this is as good as that.
OR… why waste good ancient prose?
Here ya go:
Now that is a good term from the Cold War, i.e., ‘Le Space Race.’ However, it still rings true today; rings true as something, almost… unattainable, yet so very much coveted. “Escape Velocity” Cal Gone! Take me away! (sic) Yeah: sick. Point is, I have spent the better part of my life ‘playing’ computer games. Some might be tempted to label them ‘video’ games. (They are NOT video games, Love: they are ways I increase my mental, mental…”) Old Story warning here: That guy. That guy, who used to write about distance running, what was his name” Oh Yeah! Joe Henderson; I read all of his books… Oh yeah! He died of a heart-attack… Just details… He wrote a bit: His bit went something like this: He was ‘runnin’ down a road. Some kid says, “Hey, Hi! Mister Jogger!” He replied, “Hey Kid! I am not a jogger; I am a runner! A ‘Runner!’ Get it right!” The kid replied, “Well then, why are you jogging?” I had to laugh; been there, et etcetera… This is the part where I get pissed. (And when I get pissed… well, you would not like me) The worst thing one (amongst the uninitiated) is to say, proclaim: “Are you still playin’ that damn stupid video game?!!” Perfect retort: “Yes Madame. I am.” “Oh. Well, be a good boy and don’t go downtown, protesting’ and such…” “Yessum. I won’t” “Good boy there then…” “Yes, Ma’am.” (“Now Fuck Off” This is what I did truly think)
But, she I did have a point, but my ‘point’ swerved into something else, which I really do not wanna talk about. My point it thus: Kids that played computer games in the Eighties are now in charge of your world. And to loosely quote Forrest Gump: “That is all I am gonna say about that.”
And P.S., Yes! I have of late, been spending some quality time with some of my ‘computer’ games. They know me there, and I don’t have to be too creative (actually, I do, but most….) Well…
My blogging experience is failing me of late. Not to say that I do not appreciate The Community. Just to say… that I am between gigs and this is beginning to weigh upon me.
Certainly, I will be about, but please do not chastise me for not visiting your respective blogs on a respective basis. (My intent is to intentionally do so, albeit, tomorrow), yet… I am real tired.
And my health is no good.
I will catch up…
Is One The Moon, Dear Clown Tied To A String For Me?
“For Love or Money” –Joni
And yeah! In case you missed my ‘subliminal’ bullshit:
“The Vomit Commentator’s Collection of Sad Commentary”
“How to Lose Your Readers in 4000 Words or Less”
Dear My Long-Suffering Patient Readers…
All five, four, three of you.
(“Type quick Son; they droppin’ like flies.”)
Uh, Dear Readers,
This is a “HOT MESS” collection of some recent, decent and some not-so-recent, not so decent, not so ‘normal’ comments and added value ‘vomit comments’and some other weird shit that spills from my mind from time to time, thus making me feel fine.
Go ahead: Try to Diagramthat Sentence.
I’m Sorry in Advance.
Le Space Race flashback—if you do not know of the ‘Vomit Comet” I’ll help you out
OK Go – Upside Down & Inside Out
Licensed to YouTube byLatinAutor – PeerMusic, LatinAutorPerf, ARESA, Abramus Digital, CMRRA, BMG Rights Management (US), LLC, and 8 Music Rights Societies
(NOT Licensed to One Lance A. Marcom–“I pays my money; I takes my Chances–Just how I roll.”)
“Where you goin’?”
“I isn’t goin’ anywhere.”
“Can I go with you?”
–Bro Dave Gardner
Some dude, [emerging from bedroom half-dressed] yawing and scratching his butt, “So, what’s for breakfast?”
Elizabeth Perkins, “Egg McMuffin, corner of Broadway and Belmont.”
–from ‘About Last Night.’
Dear Your-Name-Escapes Me,
When I choose to waste my time, I prefer to do it on some guilty pleasure.
Something talking to you is not.
I thought I had dismissed you yesterday.
Apparently reading and comprehending is not your strong suit.
Let’s review, shall we?
You are tediously boring Kid.
Why don’t you go outside and play?
On such a lovely day.
Or maybe find something better to say.
Or start a one-man-band.
Your kind: ten-a-penny here in Radio Land.
We’ve been here before…
A poet of such piercing eloquence
But covered with misguided arrogance
He throws out the meats
Then shits where he eats
Oops! There goes the inheritance!
“Fear?” No fear.
“Biggest mistake?” Deluding myself into thinking English was my ‘First Language.’
‘Texican’ is my first language.
I’d do well to remember that.
“Southpark will depress you, repress you, digress you, ingest you, digest you, and shit you out (if you allow it). Writing saved me from insanity there.”
–‘Letter from a Southpark Jail’ (Afghanistan, 2012)
Dear Fortunato Musico,
Did you enjoy reading my comment? Insulting, was it not? Would you read an entire story written in such a fashion? When you are so lazy that you completely ignore proper grammar (and spelling, and punctuation), you insult the intelligence of your reader at best and you show a complete disrespect for yourself as a writer at worse. In short, you fucking lose both ways.
“Us, you people, knows grammar be important to write because of if us people are be writer, to be take serious, us knows us had to serious used prospered grammar. It was crucial to we as to be good at you craft.”
If you want to fuck-up The Queen’s English for writing effect, that there above is how you do it.
Rangoli / cannoli
Linguini / martini
Houdini / Fellini
Pacino / Tarantino
Let’s call the whole thing off
Ima just jerkin’ yo chain Bro. Tit for Tat. You da quintessential chain-jerker, yo!
OK. I’m confused.
Did the man you spoke to say “That is how you get held back in kindergarten?”
Or was that part of your commentary?
Punctuation. Use (or not use) of quotations
Be kind to your readers.
We don’t deserve it though. We should be able to just ‘know,’ no?
New Dance Craze??
“Well, allow me to retort.”
“Diwali is called the Festival of Lights and is celebrated to honor Rama-chandra, the seventh avatar (incarnation of the god Vishnu). It is believed that on this day Rama returned to his people after 14 years of exile during which he fought and won a battle against the demons and the demon king, Ravana.”
Ain’t got no internet…
Hell! I’d do it for one billion.
(Yeah, I’m a cheap date)
Quoth the raven
(That black whore)
“How to get to Elsinore?”
“Elsinore, you ask?”
“Yes, Elsinore, which way?
In Elsinore I’ll stay.
“And with Lenore, I’ll have my way.”
“Say ‘Elsinore’ one more Goddamn time!
“I dare ya; I double-dare ya!”
I feel like a black crow flying…
On a blue, blue sky.
How Am I gonna Ever Know My Home
If I See It again?
Vid Share Cred: MysticPieces
(Sorry Edgar. Sorry Joni)
My condolences for your dear departed free-thinking mind as you are led, sheep-like, to the slaughter.
But of course, “Things will be much better in the Celestial North Korea,” that is Heaven, eh?
Fair winds and following seas to you Friend.
Why go to all the trouble to create a meme and not even proof read it before subjecting the entire FB world to an inferior product?
“The Cowards Never Started and the Weak Died Along the Way” –Old SEAL sayin’—jus’ sayin’.
Don’t know much about History…
Don’t know much geology…
Don’t know much about the French I took…
Don’t know what a slide rule is for…
But I do know English.
Angle: “a figure formed by two lines diverging from a common point or two planes diverging from a common line.”
Angel: “in some religions, a divine being who acts as a messenger of God”
Your meme is a crime against, not only logic, but English as well.
Unless of course you still are trying to say the “The Devil is Not in the details.”
If so, then one-thousand apologies.
Yeah Alex, I’m down with this.
By the way,
What color is your parachute?
Thank you Elizabeth
You have saved me from spilling more virtual ink and killing more virtual trees and wasting more virtual paper on this thread.
In other words, ‘I could not have said it better, nor agree more.’
Welcome to Writer’s Fight Club
Where the men are mostly men
And the women
Never nurture (nor suffer) fools.
Cheers and good luck.
You’re gonna need a bigger boat, by way of a first post.
Just a suggestion
Hope that helps your ‘writing.’
Are you aiming at ‘cute’ here,
Or just showcasing your stupidity?
If the former, well, FAIL!
If the latter, Congratulations!
“Any plans for tonight?
TEXAN TALES & HIEROGLYPHICS: A Memoir
Nap time, that feared time, that dreaded time, that hated time.
Everything recounted above actually happened, in one form or another; me no Alamo.
“Call me Ishmael.”
“That was a whale of a ride, was it not?”
Thank you very much for spending time on my piece. Just home from work and of course was anxious to dive in and read your critique. You have provided excellent suggestions and have asked excellent questions. “Pregnant” golf ball. Yeah, whatever was I ‘thinking?’ Haha (Just plain old ‘golf ball’ will certainly suffice here, eh?)
There are many other fine examples in your comments showing how I might improve this selection. No need to recount them here, as you wrote them. I will copy and paste all your comments into my draft, in order to more easily work through them.
Again, your time and efforts on my behalf are much appreciated.
“Ah Mortisha, I love it when you speak ‘atheist.’”
“I’ve learned more from this group in the past 2 months than all the rest of my life.”
Now now Kelly. That’s a bit of a stretch, doan’cha think? Heheheh. Love you, you Manson Girl, you.
“It’s like sprinkling shit with the word “God” and that’s how you get holy shit.”
I am soooo gonna steal this…
“Allahu akbar!” BOOM!!!
(May often be heard in Shit-holesParadises like Iraq)
Even if just to say, “Hey! This sucks!” or “Hey! This rocks!” or “Hey! Don’t quit your day job!”
“I know your monkey”
Would be a great title for… something.
Loved this John. Outstanding piece.
(You wouldn’t happen to have been influenced any by
“Joe Cartoon,” by any chance?)
I didn’t notice that at first (Mary Beth’s observation about the distance to the gas station—was it a gas station?). I do understand leaving the lights on, however. I have seen people do this before, if the venue was not particularly well-lit. Although, now-a-days, I’d suspect it might be difficult to find a dimly lit gas station.
Sorry, got caught up in all that…
The ‘hook’ worked for me (probably why I didn’t notice the gas-station walk)
Overall, I think it’s tight and flows well and I would definitely keep reading.
Hope this helped.
“Fear kept Wendy Smith from staying in the rusted Sedan. The compact car smelt of stale beer and cigarettes, but it had been her ticket to freedom. She needed to get gas. She left the headlights on, grabbed her rugged back pack and opened the car door with a trembling hand.
…When their heads were bent down, she turned and ran as fast as she could.”
The lament of every writing generation,
And maybe this one does, but I hope not. For I am a cockeyed optimist, à la Mitzi Gaynor…
There are still great writers; always will be.
What is distressing, however, is we are the first generation with tools available unimaginable.
And how do most use them?
Fuck me and hand me a quill and ink pot.
Some of your best writing Alex/Marie. Kept me locked up inside.
My opinion does not match Dave K’s.
It all works (for me)
‘Cept this below:
“They must have knew their prince was missing by now.”
“must have KNOWN’ (Just typo…)
My first day in typing class in Honey Grove High, the old Broad K. Trout began our introductory lesson with an exercise:
“Class, two fingers and one thumb and it goes like this:
‘F space J space F space J space… Keep doing that until I get tired.”
And if I’m honest, I thank her. Learning to touch-type is the only thing I took from HS that was worth a shit.
So… I Thank You Kathy T!
Last thoughts; then I’m off the air on this.
(If you’re lucky)
I am not an apologist for LBJ.
Honestly do not care how many ways y’all want to spin your history.
I have not the energy, inclination, nor desire to try to change your mind.
And I have far better things to do than become a caretaker of dead presidents or of their memories.
Unless of course, their visage is printed on some paper I am fortunate enough to be carrying around on my person.
I am not interested in taking part in a trolling war on this subject.
Y’all have expressed your opinions; I have expressed mine.
In parting, I will just add this to that:
It is disheartening to see so many who obviously have not taken time to actually learn anything in detail of the life of Lyndon Johnson or of the good he actually accomplished, jump on some lazy SJW bandwagon and ride it for likes to their comments.
Yes, Viet Nam was horrible, but that was not all that happened during the years, 1963-68.
Well, it’s massive.
Three ‘massive(s)’ in the first paragraph
Four additional ‘massive(s)’ and one bonus ‘massively’ sprinkled in the rest.
You can do better.
“A wee bit over 2000 words.” (Try 2592)
Ok, so arithmetic ain’t your thing; not mine either.
But, honestly, it’s a hot mess. There is NO HOOK at all, just mind-numbing exposition.
Why should I care about Admiral Sarah M. Visherly? Other than the fact she wears leather black gloves, carries a dress dagger and a concealed gun? Or because:
“She… flashed her considerable teeth in a warning snarl.”
Write it up as a ‘wee bit over 500 words’ piece.
Give us some dialog. Make us interested in Sarah.
Then leave us wanting more.
Save all the ‘massive’ detail for later.
It’s not all bad. I did slog through as much as I could.
There is some potential here, I think.
Unleash Sarah and let her show us.
I listened right now, since it’s night.
Shared it to my timeline.
“For twenty-five cents more…”
–Lenny Bruce (“Hubert’s Museum”)
Thanks so much for reading and taking the time to give feedback. Adverbs are surely my nemesis. Thought I had cast most of them out of this piece (Yes! There were more, believe it or not), but you’re correct. Further ruthless editing is in order.
I think my problem can best be stated by Gertrude chastising Polonius,
“More matter with less art.”
Your critique is appreciated as is your time. As for MWTD, I think I was trying for cute there. I’m still schlepping about a lot of my ‘hobbyist writer’ baggage, trying desperately to become more ‘professional.’ If I do keep the “Massive Weps,” they probably should be downgraded to lower case at the very least…
And certainly, I love that you love my (developing) style; coming from another writer that means so much.
Cheers, and thank you again,
*For Barney* (RIP, My Old, Old, Old, Friend)
May be offensive to people of faith:
Barney’s not buyin’ The bullshit they’re tryin’ Space rock was his ending Not God’s will unbending
They say the Big Bang Just weren’t a thang They ‘know’ evolution’s Not their solution
Yet science creates Kids who think straight It don’t take no sleuth To find the true truth
Religion is pending A major upending Then faster than light All Religion is shite
I don’t have any kids (that I know of), but the idea of dealing with eight kids and nine grandkidsscares the shit outta me. I never could relate to kids, even when I was one.
I actually wrote a bit about my pet cougar, “Charley The Cougar,”
But, I dare not post it here.
OK, screw it!
I post it!
Dragons and cougars…
Oil and water.
You say imbuing
I say imbibing
You say black cat
I say who dat?
You say screeching
I say that’s reaching
Let’s call the whole thing off.
Hey, I posted an apropos
Fighters an’ Writers
Righters an’ Smiters
Takin’ all my time
Spendin’ all my dime
Sometimes even writin’ here
Okay: I’ll play.
Lemme consult my ‘history’
“Blogging for idiots”
“Tell it; don’t show it”
As an erstwhile distance runner, this post caught my eye (or maybe my foot’s eye?).
I always kept a runner’s log when I was doing my forty or so miles a week, and in addition to the usual mundane, but necessary stats (time of day, weather, locale, distance/time run, etc.) I found myself writing longer and longer entries describing the run, my mood, interesting things I saw or experiences I had, people I had notice or notice me, thoughts that invaded my mind, pain, and on and on.
Ran across some of my old logs a few years ago (sadly re-lost to me now) and what wonderful reading they held for me after so many years of almost forgetting that I used to even write such things.
Certainly you are keeping logs as well.
Keep them safe.
You will cherish them mightily some years from now.
This is far and above anything I could write (today), but I’ll get there.
So many wonderful turns of phrase/ wonderful observations.
“…outerwearly Arab, underwearly Western. That’s also the image of the rooster gone crazy. A funny story I read somewhere. A rooster not knowing exactly the time when to start crowing because he happened to find himself in the Eiffel Tower somehow.”
Just fuckin’ wow.
I have a ‘Layla’ in one of my memoir stories.
I am going to shoot her now, for not living up to the name.
Have you more of this piece?
“Every morning I was dead as a doornail”
When I first read this I read it as “dead as normal”
And went, “Hmmm… I like that”
Then looking closer (yes, I need new glasses), realized I had misread it.
My point: I kind of like my misread version.
Your thoughts Mimi?
Uh, my comment shoulda read, ‘R’Amen.’
As an atheist, I am well-vetted, and my credentials are bona-fide.
BELIEVE that shit!
“SHOUT! SHOUT! LET IT ON OUT…”
Credit: Tears and For Beers Fears (Duh)
“There was compete silence in her mind. No need to escape.”
Maybe: “No thoughts threatened her mind; no need to escape” (?)
Just a thought. (no pun)
I like it overall.
If I ‘Learned’ from all my myriad mistakes made, the hard-disk-drive that is my ‘mind’ would first become fragmented, then full, and then just explode.
So where would that leave me?
It would leave me with just-one-more-mess to clean up
(Uh… I think I have recently written about ‘messes.’)
“Should I go for it?”
That one is near to the top of my page. It is the post with the dog falling over in bed.
Yuk, Yuk, Yuk! (I love to laugh at Lance. It is cathartic)
Sometimes merely ‘surviving’ is enough.
Thanks for sharing the quote.
“But here lies the difference between low-vibing fake ones and high-vibing someone.”
Great line (and meaning)!!
I may be ‘compelled’ to steal it for a future post of my own.
(I will, of course, credit you. I may be a thief, but I am an honest one—does that make sense?)
Great post Angry Bird.
Very well-written and thought provoking.
To add my ‘two cents’… well two cents which I stole from someone else, namely this guy: some old dude from several years ago,
“And if I say that the greatest good of a man is daily to converse about virtue, and all that concerning which you hear me examining myself and others, and that the life which is unexamined is not worth living—that you are still less likely to believe” –Socrates
I had a similar experience with one of my ex-wives, before she became one of my ex-wives (seems I am always in the market for the ‘future ex-mrs-marcom’ And the astute reader will recognize that I just stole that line from ‘Jurassic Park’ –Jeff Goldblum’s character)
Anyway, I was saying…
Oh yeah, my first ex. We were in Tel Aviv (I used to work in the Sinai for the U.S. State Department. You may have read some of ‘those’ posts: Sinai Field Mission.—SFM—Search for them on my blog if you’d like to ‘read more about it.’
Damnit! I am gonna finish writing this ‘comment’ ‘even if it harelips the Pope’.
We were sitting at a sidewalk café on Dizengoff Street and I casually remarked,
“You know Janet, maybe we should get married some day.”
She took that to heart. (Or maybe she ‘heard’ me say “Sunday”)
I wasn’t meaning ‘right now!’
Next day we were married.
(I had a problem back then with the whole concept of ‘Just say no’ when it came to women, and Nancy was still somewhere far off on the event-horizon at the time: 1979…)
If you have come this far, I humbly suggest you find something better to do with your time.
Ethel, The Pirate’s Daughter sketched this ‘Self-portrait’ for me while we were enduring yet another long, boring, bullshit ‘help’ session at UBH Denton.
She would often lay her head on my shoulder and grasp my hand and we got in trouble over this, ’cause there is ‘no touching’ in Looney Tunes Hospital. (We always sat very close to each other—mainly because we were trying to fall in love).
Imagine me, falling for a Cambodian American Girl with a broken wing and a broken heart and a broken mind and a broken life.
And try to imagine her, falling for me.
Hard to imagine, but it happened.
In the Loony Hospital.
She was to me… Sade in tights.
(And such a delight)
(See poem below if you’d like to ‘read more about her.’)
Poem For “Ethel”–Fake Name–UBH: Interlude SEPTEMBER 14, 2020 BY LAMARCOM Black Hair Black Eyes Bright Smile Great Thighs Wily Words From Her Mouth Gave No Pause Left No Doubt Words Delivered With Such Charm Better Watch Out You’ll Be Disarmed Your Walls Came Crashing Down Your Weapons On The Ground She Was Standing There (Laughing At My Folly) Laughing Everywhere You May As Well Surrender Right There Taking Me Aside, She Said, “I’ll Never Be Your Bride. “But You Knew This All Along.” She Left Me With A Song And Made Me Smile Again Then Left Me With a Fact: “I Cheats At Black-Jack.”
was living large in the ‘Proper Garage Apartment’ and was ‘in good’ with the Landlord. She informed me he had this ‘wonderful little apartment’ for rent, which was ‘just perfect’ for me. Read CHEAP.
I checked it out, paid my fifty bucks and moved in. The moving in took all of two minutes, for I had not much to move.
Working for Ruth at her Liquor store in Ladonia and making a solid three dollars fifty cents an hour (plus ‘benefits), it was indeed, ‘perfect’ for me.
Now mind you, I never complained about living in such a place. After all, it did suit me and no one would have cared anyhow if it didn’t. It had some kind of ‘certain charm’ (just like this place) to be sure.
How many folks could invite a guest into their home and lead them past the shitter before arriving into the living room/bedroom/kitchen/study proper? As far as I knew, I had the only such place in all of Commerce. It was special.
And truth be told, I did some ‘entertaining’ there a couple of times. The only person who I would invite over was my girlfriend. She never judged me. She was always happy to be with me, no matter the venue. (Yes, that sounds conceited, but there it is Gentle Reader—c’est vrai, or quel dommage, or… choose your own français).
Important ‘Breaking News’ Re: Shonnie’s ‘Make-Over'”
Let’s Get This Out of the Way First:
Do NOT Read Unless You are Already Familiar With The Story from Reading the Original Series.
Skip Ahead to Here:
Some of Y’all Faithful Readers… (That is Not Sarcasm. I sincerely appreciate all Y’all who read me and have ‘Read’ me over the years, and tears, and beers)
…some of Y’all have probably noticed I have been re-visiting old work and endeavoring to ‘re-work’ same.
I am doing this because a few of the old posts still have value and meaning for me and hopefully for you as well.
Most do not, but there are a handful that do.
“Shonnie”, being one of them.
“Are you going ‘somewhere’ with this Lance?”
“Yes.I just wish to inform Y’all that my ‘Current Mission’ is to re-write the entire Shonnie Series.Chapter One is Done. Now only Thirteen to go!”
Someone once told me, “Lance, your ‘Shonnie’ is probably the only ‘real’ writing you have ever done. Most of your other shit is just that: ‘Shit.’ Granted, some of it is entertaining shit, but ‘shit’ it remains. ‘Shonnie’ is the only one that will ever have even a snowflake’s chance in Hell of getting published. Provided you allow a good editor to slice and dice it.”
“Uh… Nice ‘talkin’ to ya. Thanks.”
I killed this Series a few years ago.
Pretty Certain Alcohol was involved.
Anyway, I brought it back, (With the help of Word Press—Thank you WP) if for nothing else, my own edification.
And every word I wrote, everything I recounted, actually happened as written.
(And of course, it was resurrected because I love Sheryl Crow. And of course, as a vain writer, I just cannot cotton to killing my own words, once dragged out of my mind and put down. Hahahaha! Writers! Y’all know what I mean.)
Please Bare er, ‘bear’… with me on this one Y’all.
Time always makes things (memories) better. This is how I cope. As for me and Shonnie, memories are multiplied, ‘super-sized’, if you will.
The words I wrote of our relationship are all too true. I do hope she never reads those words, as neither she nor I are strong enough to re-live those heady days. This is how life is and I suppose how it should be.
One is young twice, but old only once. ‘Once a Man and Twice a Child’.
And youth makes one do stupid shit based upon that ‘youth’, and then, if lucky, one has a chance for redemption later in life while old and hopefully ‘wise,’ and before that ‘Second Childhood’ kicks in, making one fairly useless, even if still lovable.
(Not religious redemption: human redemption) I do not apologize for my youthful indiscretions. They belong to me alone and I will carry them alone.
If anyone has it in their head after reading my story of Lance and Shonnie, that I did not truly love her, that I allowed her to set me free for my own self-preservation, that I did not want to fight for her, then you may want to go back and read between the lines a bit.
And with that ‘mini-rant’ spotlight shined into my soul, I leave you with this idealized and fantasized version of what Shonnie meant to me.
(Ms Shonnie’s part played and well-acted by Sheryl Crow.) Yet as good as Sheryl is, she could never be as good to, nor for me, as was Shonnie.
(But, I’d grant her an audition, none-the-less)
It shames me now to admit this but I was, back then, not strong enough to be Shonnie’s man.
Would that I could be granted a second chance
And, even now, today, I probably still am not.
If you are new here and confused, here is the beginning of this little saga:
Below You Will Find Most Of The Original Posts. Once / If You Arrive At Thirteen There Are Links To The Final Few Chapters. Please keep in mind however, that each and every one of them is in the process of being rewritten: first to last. This will probably take at least two or three weeks.
UPDATE: The Shonnie Reconstruction Project is Completed.
Please read the new versions.
They are all still truth. Truth expanded. More detail, yada yada yada…