A navy blue sky
Snow like white confetti
A crisp slice of yellow moon
Cold, still, expectant air
Tucked in brand new pajamas
Awestruck by the multi colored lights
On the icicle laden spruce
Wanting it all to last just a little bit longer
The grown ups off to midnight mass
Sleepy kids denying slumber
Hot chocolate and buttered toast
Prolongs the magic
Silent Night and Jingle Bells
Provide the soundtrack to the dreams
Of Christmas morning soon to come
But not just yet - more hot chocolate
And now the moment beckons
A yawn, a nod, a sudden jerk
So off to bed
A fine surrender
A door opening
Footfalls
Soft voices
Back from mass
Ah, now to settle
Warm and smitten
A perfect night
Christmas Eve
I am thankful for:
- awareness, debate and dialogue - With all that's crazy stupid in our modern world, hope hovers and lurks everywhere.
- the freedom to run my life without bending to other people's rules or expectations
- food
- music - specifically Sibelius, Morgana King, Kenny Rankin, Bossa Nova, Sondheim, Streisand, Judy Garland at Carnegie Hall, Broadway musicals, Jazz vocals, Nancy Wilson, Tony Bennett, John Pizzarelli, Bernstein, Rodgers & Hart, Jerome Kern, Nina Simone and Ella
- movies, cable, the Internet
- my past
- books
- smart phones
- 5 chewing gum especially Cobalt - flavor lasts forever!
- coffee - Newman's, 8 O'clock, Donut Shop, French Roast
- Chai Latte
- Thai basil fried rice
- New York City
- Hamburg / Boston
- Public Libraries
- but most of all GLENN
The above list itemizes basically some of my likes in my lucky life. I am fortunate to have so much good in my life that outweighs the not so good in my life. This "not so good" isn't worth mentioning in light of all my blessings. We all have unhappy times now and then. It is inevitable. Yet, my bounty of love and what I call "free passage" cushions me. What is "free passage"? It is, for me, liberty, a self determined life. And what comes with free passage is self accountability. I am solely responsible for my life - the good and the bad. I blame no one despite my rants and tantrums for the rocky road. I, therefore, take full credit for the smooth road - with a little help from my "friends". To quote a wise old philosopher:
"Life is earnest. Life is real. Sing Polly Wolly Doodle all the day."
AND I DO!
HAPPY THANKSGIVING
Things That BUG ME
- I'll get a text. Like a dutiful friend, I reply. Then.................nothing. I did not initiate this text yet the "initiator" who has started what seems to be a substantive conversation - drops out. Next morning they reply to my reply. ARGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!
- When someone has neglected to respond to an email, text or voice mail of some importance then say when confronted "Sorry, I've been busy" - like you have no life but they do - oh, your that person that is so busy - oh, gee, okay, well, I'll just crawl back in my hole until you are ready for me - okay?
- I absolutely despise public parenting. That is when a mother or father grandstand with teachable moments for all to hear and see so that we are awed at their remarkable and progressive technique OR even worse is the public scolding. I really hate this. The poor humiliated child will probably be scarred for life. Here in aisle 3 at Target, little Jacob or Jenny have their foundation laid for future therapy.
- Switching gears - I hate audience participation. I buy a ticket to hear a singer, comic etc. NOT to hear myself - unrehearsed I might add. I just hate it when they ask us to sing along or clap or dance or anything. Leave me alone and entertain me OR pay me for my participation.
- Award show acceptance speeches can be fun and even moving. They can also be a big bore. That is when the winner pulls out a piece of paper or a card and rattles off a list of names - agents, grips, best boys, caterers etc. They are suppose to be performers. Where's the flair - the wit?
- Switching gears, again - You know those cheese sticks that separate from a group of cheese sticks? I like the sharp cheddar. To open a stick you must pull down a cellophane tab and wallah - cheese! Well, there is always a pack of sticks that will not open this way because the tab has been so firmly sealed with no perforation so to open them after struggling for untold minutes, you must resort to finding scissors and cutting them open in which case some of the cheese remains on the scissor blade. Gross! I always promise myself I am going to write a letter of complaint. Surely, Kraft will reply with an apology and a year's supply of cheddar sticks. Someday I must write that letter.
- Switching gears - getting serious - I hate phony liberals. You know, like Alec Baldwin - blowhard self important asshole Alec Baldwin who pretends to be on the right side of all the liberal issues but behaves like an over the hill skinhead. I am sick to death of him and people like him. Fuck off, Baldwin. Gay people don't need or want you as an advocate. Your a fading pretty boy with ego maniacal tendencies who has over stayed his welcome. As my no nonsense Dad used to say "Go chase rabbits!"
- TV news teasers drive me batty. Serious news is non existent except for PBS Nightly News. I especially abhor teasers like "Toxins founds in a popular breakfast cereal. Details at eleven" - meaning 11 PM. In the meantime you low grade panic wondering if it was that bowl of captain Crunch you devoured that morning. Will you live until 11PM?
- Speaking of TV news - just when did scoring the news begin? Why does the war coverage or a street shooting have a soundtrack? Music to misery - real misery like typhoons and tsunamis is an insult to victims and an offense to viewers. There's plenty of entertainment shows to be had. Why turn the news into a vaudeville? Shame to all the networks and local news as well - just as guilty.
- Reenactments on so called reality shows are also offensive. They sentimentalize and trivialize crime. Isn't fact always more powerful than fiction? Reality is drama enough. I don't need bad actors and hackneyed film tricks by 3rd rate directors to tell me a "true" story.
- So many people are decrying stores that will be open on Thanksgiving. It is greedy - yes - and we all tsk and shake our heads - yet, I will bet that Thanksgiving day after dinner - the stores will be packed - packed - by many of those who condemned the idea.
-
- In a similar vein, I am bugged to my very marrow by people who lack a social conscience. I am talking about friends and family who will dine at Chick-fil - A , Cracker Barrel and Dominoes Pizza or shop at Hobby Lobby or purchase Barilla products to name a few that have clearly and publicly denigrated gays and women. When you spend your money at such establishments, you are subsidizing my oppression. Shame on anyone who knows this yet continues to patronize these businesses.
- Switching gears - lesser evils such as seniors chewing gum in public, people who text openly while you are talking with them, tailgaters, overly solicitous wait staff, high pricing soft drinks and coffee in restaurants, self check outs in grocery stores that malfunction frequently enough to warrant an on site clerk to assist you.
- AND finally FOR NOW - I so hate modern audiences that over react by giving standing ovations at the end of every play whether it deserves it or not - WHY??, I also deplore the collective whooping and screeching in place of genuine laughter and applause.
- Sorry - one more - I HATE MELISMA or MELISMATIC SINGING - I do-ho-ho-ho-oo-oo-oo-whooh!
First off, I'm okay. I am not depressed or dirgy. I know I write a lot about death and related topics. But, seriously, I have always ALWAYS been fascinated with - well, kind of obsessed really - with death. Not as an option for me, you understand. Like the great writer William Saroyan, I believe I will never die. On his death bed it is said he murmured "I always knew people died. I just thought I'd be the exception. "
That is how I feel - how I HAVE ALWAYS FELT. It is human conceit, of course. Others die. I won't. Don't we all feel this way. Who really contemplates their own death? It is just too much - too much to consider. Denial immediately sets in and we are off on another thread. Am I right?
What I do contemplate - frequently - is the death of others - most especially - loved ones. I have lost family and friends over the recent years - one this year - devastatingly so.
And these feelings of suspense, disbelieve....
Somehow I am convinced that there's a fix-it plan - this overwhelms me at times.
It isn't all the time. It goes away
It has reemerged.
How can I explain? You see, when I think about someone who has passed away recently - I know they're gone - I play around with all the clichés about them watching over me, or reuniting with them when I go, being visited by signs - unexplained acts or events - all somewhat comforting. But the fact remains, they are gone, passed - so hard to say it - dead.
And I sometimes feel that if I want it hard enough - so hard that somehow it will happen. I will have an actual moment with them. I will know beyond a doubt that we coexist.
I want it so goddamn much - I want - I want...........
I want to call my mother on the phone and talk for an hour like we used to. I want to tease her and see her face light up as she mock scolds me. What I wouldn't give to hear her say "Hain - it" - I always teased her for that but now it would be music to my ears. I long to thank her for all the things she did - the daily things - cooking, cleaning, ironing, laundry - things I now do for myself and don't always enjoy. Why can't we appreciate these acts of love when they are being performed for us when we are young. We take it for granted not realizing how hard this daily maintenance is. I WANT TO SAY THANK YOU! Then there's the sincere interest she always expressed in all my creative endeavors - the encouragement, advice and humor. Ma was funny - and she could sing - really well. I want to hear her sing "The Party's Over".
I want to hear my dad play the guitar, the piano. I want him to interrupt me as he would do when I played the piano by suggesting we should duet - me on the piano - he on his violin. This used to bug me to no end BUT now I long for it - to hear and appreciate his enormous talent. Why are children built to be so self centered. I want my dad to tell me the story of his life - something he never did - something I didn't want to know. I DO NOW! I WANT TO KNOW EVERY DETAIL OF HIS LIFE BEFORE SELFISH ME CAME ALONG.
I want to forge a friendship with my brother - reignite what we had as kids. We used to pretend I was Wally and he was the Beaver. We loved that show so much and related to it. Our adult lives separated us and made us strangers to some degree. I want to hear his story. I want to be proud of him and say good going, Georgie. I want him to ask me for advice. I WANT TO BE THE BIG BROTHER I SHOULD HAVE BEEN!
I want to hear Gloria laugh about some silly thing I would say - purposely saying what I know would elicit that laugh. To talk about the movie stars and films especially of the 1950's. I want to drop by her house knowing I was always welcome without having to call ahead - never necessary with her. I want to relive these lasts months of her life and show more understanding for what she was going through. To deal with it differently. I thought there would be plenty of time to mend. And we were getting there. I wanted that so much. I thought about it every day. And because Gloria has left us just months ago, I - I want - I want - I WANT GLORIA!
I remember Julie as the sweetest blondest ragamuffin ever. She was so full of life and ambition as a child. I lost track of her as I was living my life and career in New York City. In the beginning - my early days in NYC, Julie would write to me - send me long letters that included her poetry. What did I do with those letters? When we reconnected it was uneasy. But we slowly warmed to each other. I want to ask her why the distance. I want to understand. I want her story as well - her story told by her. Gone too soon, dear Julie. I recall seeing Julie again after not seeing her for a very long time. I went to hug her. It was one of those awkward hugs. We laughed and her mother said, "Julie's not a hugger." We all laughed again. I never attempted another hug. I WANT TO HUG JULIE.
I know people die. I thought Ma and Dad, Georgie, Gloria and Julie, like me, would be the exception.
As I age I am acutely aware of death. I hate that word DEATH. It is so final. According to spiritualists as well as many religious teachings, death is not final. There is the other side - the afterlife. I love believing in the afterlife. I am in love with the idea. Yet, I ask myself, what is it I really believe?
I watched a movie two days ago that has thrown me into this age old quandary. It was a beautifully sad movie about true love entitled "Amour". It depicts an old couple in their final days. A long married very accomplished duo with so much to live for. No, that's not right. I should say so much to remember - so much to cherish - but already lived. They now have each other, bad health surrounded by the things - many things that must mean so much to them. But in the end aren't they just things? What seems to matter is the present. How to deal with two strokes, bad nurses, inability to talk, walk and bathe without help. These once strong vibrant people are also dealing with peculiar signs at their door - scratches and marks left by what seems to be a screwdriver - an attempt to break into their home - this home with so much history. To end a wonderful life in such an unwonderful way is the tragedy and so damn unfair.
This film devastated me as much as a movie can. Of course it isn't true devastation. It is simply my response to a great film. It is a great film but I will not see it again. Movies, books, theater are there to entertain, teach sometimes and illuminate our lives. "Amour" made me look at what I know but mostly what I don't know - and that is scary. And that is why I cannot view this masterpiece again. I don't want to think about it - any of it.
In "Hannah and Her Sisters" Woody Allen plays a man searching for the meaning of life - actually more so the meaning of death. He is so disturbed in his search that he tries out all the religions known to man for answers. It, of course, is comic, but ultimately not. Finally he realizes that no answers are forthcoming. He is deeply frustrated and goes to his father for words of wisdom. He asks his dad why must we die - where do we go - is there life after death - what are the truths? His dad answers, "Why worry - there's nothing you can do about it - so relax - live - forget about it and just live. What will happen will happen." This releases Woody and as the film winds down, our hero finds a happy way to live without the burden of his personal doomsday fears.
I recall after seeing "Hannah" a great feeling of relief because I, like Woody, lived with the constant search for life's answers. This feeling of relief did not last. And, now, thanks to "Amour" I am a ball of worry and doubt.
So much for art illuminating life. Maybe I should stick with "I Love Lucy".
Don't you love those days when you love your life? I mean days brimming with happiness. A day that is perfection in every way. The weather is great. The food you eat throughout the day is ambrosia. The movie you see, the book you read, the TV time, the music you hear - or how about the clothes you choose to wear on such a day? It is as if your body has decided to cooperate and give you a break. The jeans, the shirt, the shoes - you move like a lynx comfortable in your clothes and your skin. Your hair falls just right - your face glows - you are beautiful and everyone seems to concur - you just know it!
You have never run into so many agreeable people. You have never been more agreeable. You and your spouse are more in love than ever before. Your dog, cat or fish seems to be smiling at you. You are certain God just texted you.
You are happy happy happy. You never want this day to end.
Then you wake up...........................
I have a friend who is going through some difficult times. His unhappiness is the result of a recent act of cruelty. It was a completely unnecessary act of cruelty. Well, no cruelty is necessary. It is just that the perpetrator of this assault on my friend could have accomplished his goal without the cruelty. He could have been nice.
After talking with my friend - well, for a better flow - lets call him Ricky - after we spoke and hearing the devastation in his every word, I wondered about my own behavior. How nice am I? How cruel am I? How have I caused anyone to be unhappy?
We all want to think of ourselves as nice - nice people - good generous and caring. But how true is that in percentages. Are we 100% good? Probably not.
I look at some of my actions over my lifetime. I know for certain that I have been nice - very nice. I have been good. I have also been mean, selfish and cruel. The instances when I have been less than nice were always rationalized as necessary behavior at the time because, after all, I am a good person. But, no, I was not the good nice person I want people to think I am. Looking back with honesty, I see how bad I was. I see what I am capable of doing to others. And I am ashamed.
Ricky's recent tragedy has enlightened me to recognize my demon. It has made me come to the simplest and clearest of conclusions. We can be nice. We can take care of business and resolve it with no regrets to haunt us through sleepless nights.
Of course, the reality of our world shows us cruel people without a conscience. People who would not lose sleep over their sins. Are we to extend our love to them despite their inherent evil? I don't know. I think it is best to avoid such people, that is, if and when you recognize them for what they are. It may be difficult to completely avoid them. They may be your boss, your parent, your next door neighbor. But you can keep them out of the fabric of your life. Such people can bring you down - can convert you - can give you permission to be like them before you even know what is happening to you.
To be nice - to strive to be nice - that is my goal. I am a good person. This I know. My desire to be consistent is the effort. Of course it is. We are all selfish creatures. It is a given. The human being, above all else lives to survive. We nurture ourselves with food, water, oxygen AND love - all selfish acts - but selfish is like the good fats and bad fats in our diet - love is the good selfish. It is the one thing we do for ourselves that benefits the objects of our affections.
Poor dear Ricky. He is a good person. He is a nice person. He was dealt a cruel blow by a - bad person? - a cruel, not nice person? Yes. But this person doesn't love Ricky. Then are we only nice to those we love? It is easier, for sure, to be nice to our loved ones. I hold that we can go through the day falling in love with almost everyone we encounter if just for a minute - a few seconds. Nice precedes these encounters and is the aftertaste when they are over.
If only for Ricky or because of Ricky I will endeavor to sustain this desire to be nice. It wouldn't hurt. How could it?
“
They say you are not you except in terms of relation to other people. If there weren't any other people there wouldn't be any you because what you do, which is what you are, only has meaning in relation to other people.”
― Robert Penn Warren
Bless TCM. Bless Robert Osborne. Bless Thomas Edison. Bless the Lumiere Brothers.
I love movies - new, old, short, long, intimate, epic, black and white, color, CinemaScope, 3D ( sometimes ) - so many movies just everywhere - so many bad BAD flicks but so many good ones, too.
I pick movies the way I pick books. One of my favorite "libraries" is TCM. I adore this television network. It isn't nostalgia that beckons me to this channel. I am not a fan of pure nostalgia. It's an aesthetic. TCM, like a library, has the good the bad and the interesting.
Today I watched a series of short Lumiere films - movies from the 1800's - THE 1800'S!! Two of them were in color - IN COLOR!! What an experience. Viewing movies from two centuries ago was like a visitation from Marley's ghost - chilling, thrilling and a little scary BUT also a kind of holy spiritual experience.
I recently watched "Giant' with Elizabeth Taylor, James Dean and Rock Hudson. It was fabulous. I was astounded to realize what a great actress Liz Taylor was in her prime. I was surprised at how good Rock Hudson was and how bad the forever young James Dean could be. "Giant's" director George Stevens was a revelation to me. Now I want to see all his films.
Another surprise for me was the phenomenal performance by a young and very beautiful Natalie Wood in "Splendor In The Grass". Warren Beatty made his movie debut in "Splendor" and was pretty stunning - all the earmarks of a screen star. Directed by Elia Kazan, Natalie Wood's heartbreaking performance was never equaled by her.
TCM is a treasure trove of great 20th Century "literature". Yes, TCM also shows bombs but viewed as history, these bombs blow away many of today's hits- you know - like the repulsive "Hangover " movies. the stupid Jennifer Aniston romancers, the grating Adam Sandler indulgences, the smarmy Paul Rudd buddy flicks, the recent spate of senior citizen romantic comedies starring Diane Keaton, Alec ( puke puke ) Baldwin, Meryl Streep ( is nothing sacred ) and Robert Dinero ( Mr. Sell-out ).
I am not saying movies were better then today's efforts. I am saying that today's garbage is smellier. In an attempt to be real, movies have given up wit, true humor and poetic vision. That said -today we have Ang Lee, Spielberg, Scorsese, Danny Boyle etc. making very good movies and I do love state of the art. So there is much to enjoy and savor today but oh - ah - yesterday - Bette Davis, Kazan, Garland, Cagney, Charles Laughton, Montgomery Clift, Geraldine Page, Ava Gardner, Kim Novak, Inge, Hepburn - Katherine & Audrey, David Lean, Brando, Coppola, Lumet, MGM musicals and that marvelous roaring lion and on and on............
But I don't have to dwell in a nostalgic mist. No I do not. All I have to do is turn on TCM and catch a dream - eyes wide open.
I have this friend. We've known each other for many many years. That's the problem. We are tied by history. We have nothing in common except that we went to the same school, know some of the same people, had a brief commonality - very brief, really. Yet for these many years we have considered ourselves friends. We have had long stretches of silences but we seem to reenter each other's lives.
I do not like him. He is everything I dislike in people. He is totally self focused. He is rudely judgmental. He has displayed a very cruel streak publicly - bursts of ugly anger and embarrassing fury. He is racist although he would say he is not. He is sexist in that 1950's kind of way which wouldn't seem sexist if we were living in that decade. He is shockingly ignorant considering that he is an educator. He is devoid of a social conscience. From my observation, he has many acquaintances but no close friends.
He considers me a close friend.
We are not.
When we talk - well, when he talks - it is all about him. When I interject and try to share he doesn't hear me. It's as if I hadn't spoken at all. When he has finished his ego fest he makes a quick and speedy exit.
Anyone I have ever introduced him to has remarked "Why are you two friends - why is he your friend?" - As in - why would you even consider such a person your friend - why would you want to be in his company - why? why? why?
I last spoke to him yesterday. He phoned me on his land line to "talk". His monologue was interrupted by his cell phone. He asked - no - told me to hold on as he took the other call. It wasn't even really for him. From what I could hear, it was a neighbor asking about my 'friend's" sister who had been hospitalized. He coolly informed his neighbor of his sister's condition which was quite serious from what I could gather. Yet, my "friend" spoke like a dispatcher after a long boring shift of reporting routine brush fires and domestic squabbles. He, then, told this neighbor to hold on - came back to me and I immediately seized the opportunity to end the call by saying "Why don't you call me later - go on and take your call." He did without even a thank you - just an OK and click - well, phones don't really click anymore but you know what I mean.
I sat very still for a few beats then relaxed into a decision. I need to once and for all divorce this "friend". I feel nothing but contempt for him - not a shred of love or even like. I understand what makes him the way he is. I really do. Yet, that doesn't matter. I want out.
He will think it is another one of our "silences" and eventually he will break down and call me. And when that time comes, I will - what? Answer the phone? Ignore the call?
What I want to do is tell him why we are not and have never really been friends. I don't want to hurt him. I just want to end this thing - this acquaintance - this pretense. His ego will surely be capable of handling this "divorce". When he speaks of this - and he will - it is I who will be the one being dumped. And that's okay. Because my ego doesn't care.
I am looking forward to saying "I had this friend. We knew each other for many many years. That was the problem.................... "
"This is what I'll miss about summer"
"What?"
We were driving home this evening from a local Italian restaurant.
It had rained quite heavily off and on all day - but now
now the evening sun was shining its warm gauzy glow
the air was fresh with that mixture of leaves and grass smell
the day had slowed down to a meander
It was delicious.
"This - right now - this....."
"Oh - yes, I know........"
Summer carries an energy that motivates,
entertains
and presents possibilities
especially summer evenings
still light out
a quiet buzz
relaxing
contentment.
No other season gives you that.
Winter evenings are dark, chilly and sleepy.
The fall tries to imitate summer - badly.
Spring disappoints with its delayed promise.
Only summer evenings prolong the hope.
Summer is ending and I will miss it - especially its evenings.
Let's face it. We all want to be loved. Even by those we don't love. It's an ego thing one might suppose. And I suppose it could be BUT I propose it may be something else entirely. It may just be basic human desire. If you love me then I will certainly love you right back. I believe we are all willing to strike such a bargain. I know I am.
Does that make me a wimp or weak or a person with low self esteem? All a bunch of mean words, don't you think? Wanting to be loved needs no excuses. It's primal.
Then one must consider the degree to which you love or are loved.
Are you loved enough by friends and relatives to include you in - if not all then some of their events - parties, get togethers and passages such as weddings, funerals, graduations, reunions?
Do you love enough to feel hurt, angry, unloved by those who exclude you from these events?
Should you measure love as a result of these exclusions OR should you come to the conclusion that you are not merely loved enough but that possibly - painfully - you are not loved at all?
Should you then, after reaching this sorry conclusion, decide to stop loving those you now feel do not love you back?
Do you run down a list of hurts that have been inflicted upon you by these so called loved ones in the hopes of rationalizing your decision to stop the loving?
Should you realize that these so called loved ones couldn't care less about your hurt - that it would never cross their icy minds to even ponder you and your paranoia?
Is it paranoia?
NO!
IN BETWEEN DAY
You're not sad - well, yes, you are - but not for one specific thing. You're definitely not hungry. Food is not the delight it usually is for you. You walk around like a zombie in training. The day is gray gray gray. The sound of music sickens you. The phone sounds an excessively loud ring. You can barely manage a smile for the cashier at the supermarket. The mail lays unattended. The television gets an entire day off.
Are you depressed? Not really. You know if you try hard enough you can snap out of it. You just don't even want to try. The effort seems meaningless. So you wallow in your purgatory. You are having an in between day.
If you could muster up a list, you might be able to focus on what is bothering you. You begin a mental list but then your mind wanders all over the place. You think about a button missing from your favorite shirt. You'll never find a replacement which means you will never wear that shirt again. This saddens you beyond its appropriateness. Is it the button? Or is it the funeral you attended in March and not the goddamn button at all.
The in between day has you disliking everything that crosses your path. Your look of contempt is slightly disguised by the shield of dull vapor that surrounds you like an ugly rain cloud halfway ready to burst.
It isn't even 2:00 o'clock in the afternoon and you are ready for bed. You know you won't sleep but you must lie down - close your eyes and because it is an in between day - when you close your eyes you will see nothing - just darkness - no pictures. And this darkness will not comfort you.
Dinnertime comes and goes. What was it you just ate? The phone rings and you let voice mail do its job. You sit on the front porch watching the boring cars speed by. Where are they so eager to get to? Home? Why? Home. What's home?
OK, snap out of it. This is beginning to enter the realm of depression. Once you are in you may lose your way. So you try to think of something to do - some thing - anything that will supply a little ray of hope. Then the mental list starts again; music, a movie, ice cream, call a friend, drink some wine, take a walk, get a pet - a dog. OH, how you have wanted a dog. Then you remember, dogs need you around a whole lot especially in the beginning. And you also remember how bad you are at house training.
So you just sit there on your front porch that usually gives you more pleasure then is warranted - you sit there and give in to the in between day. You've had them before. This, too, will pass you archly think. And like Scarlett O'Hara, you know without a doubt that tomorrow is another day.
THE ANONYMOUS MAN
by Vincent Scarsella
Think of Fred MacMurray - young and dashing before his Disney years. Then conjure up images of Edward G. Robinson. Not the gangster E.G. but the short stout put upon E.G. yearning after beautiful women and getting them ONLY because he has money. Throw into the center of these two men Lana Turner - a young, very blond - I mean blond from head to toe as only black and white movies could do. Now, for people of a certain age, we have a triangle - a potentially dangerous triangle. It will entail murder, mismanagement of funds, greed and of course, that great old standby, lust.
When was the last time that delicious plot setup reared its devilish head? Well, folks, it's back - updated but sassy as ever in Vincent Scarsella's debut suspense novel, "The Anonymous Man". If ever a book cried out to be a movie, "The Anonymous Man" screams FILM ME! FILM ME!
I am not going to do the usual plot summation as most book reviews are want to do. I would have to spoil alert you all over the place. Let me just say, that like a Hitchcock movie or great film noir, The Anonymous Man, is worth discovering for yourself. It is, simply put, great fun with all the ingredients mentioned above. Add to the recipe clever twists and turns and a surprise ending. An added surprise for me was the authors smart insights into the dynamics of marriage, issues of self esteem and physical beauty.
I have a small quibble. I wish Mr. Scarsella had given his characters names that fit the book's locale. Set in Buffalo, a city ripe with great ethnicity - Italian, Polish, German and a large African American population, our author could have named his characters more interestingly. What we have are names like Shaw and Flaherty. Even his foray to Philadelphia - mucho Italians - we get Anglo names. But, I did say it was a small quibble. Oh, if you are from Buffalo, you may take exception to some views expressed on the Queen City. I, personally, was amused by it.
For a breezy entertainment that will leave you as satisfied as a great Buffalo fish fry or Anchor Bar wings , The Anonymous Man serves up a tart main course. For dessert, google Vincent Scarsella's short stories available on sci-fi and eBook websites as well as Amazon.com.
What if one day you could become anonymous, free of obligations, free to do what you have always wanted to do? That’s exactly what Jerry Shaw pulls off after faking his death to collect on a $4 million life insurance policy. But just when Jerry thinks he has escaped his former life, he is betrayed by his co-conspirators, his wife and best friend, and learns that a tenacious insurance company investigator is hot on his heels. You won't be able to put down this twisting and suspenseful novel, wondering if Jerry will ultimately get to do what he has always wanted, to become anonymous, just like the hero of his comic book creation, The Anonymous Man, and then not only draw his further adventures, but live them.
W O R D S
There are words and phrases that if I hear or see them one more time -
I will SCA- REAMMM!!!
Don't worry. I am sure to hear or see them again many times. The scream will be internal like an ulcer!
What are these verbal assaults? Lets begin:
1. preselected - I just got another credit card invitation because I am such a "valued customer" therefore, I have been "preselected to apply" Right - I am so valued that my preselection doesn't actually guarantee the card. It just allows me the right to apply. Oh joy! Oh rapture! I get to fill out a form in ant print that wants to know my business so it can decide if I qualify. But, wait - I was preselected. WHAT DOES PRESELECTED MEAN?? Isn't it simply - selected? Haven't I been selected. Preselected would seem to mean that before I was selected to apply I have been formerly selected which means - um I don't know what it means........forget it - I really don't need another credit card that I will not use.
2. like - Like has become the new "ya know". Except it is sprinkled over a conversation like salt on potato chips. LIKE LIKE LIKE LIKE LIKE!!!!! The way it is being used seems to indicate that nothing is literal - everything is "Like" For example, someone might say "I was LIKE really mad at him 'cause he LIKE took my car without even LIKE asking me ....LIKE." Lets break it down. No one was really mad. They were like mad. What is like mad? You are either mad or you aren't. No one took the car - they just like took the car. So why is anyone even remotely like mad - and anyway, its angry not mad. Well, you get the picture. It is as if people today fear being literal. Speaking of literal...
3. literally - "I was literally rolling in the aisles - it was so funny !" No you weren't. You were not LITERALLY rolling in anything. You were sitting in your seat literally laughing. This word means what it says LITERALLY. Please everybody GET A FUCKING DICTIONARY. Hey, here's a novel thought. Spend an afternoon googling words and their meaning BEFORE YOU SPEAK!!!
Whew - I feel better. Let's continue..........
4. so - Have you noticed how people begin a new thought with "So" - as in "So, I was walking down the street and who do you think I ran into?" It's as if they are continuing a story somewhere where they left off due to - oh, I don't know - an interruption of some sort or a sneeze! You don't begin in the middle. As Glinda said to Dorothy "It's always best to start at the beginning." Good advice, Glinda.
5. your used instead of you're - your is possessive - you're is YOU ARE numb nuts!
6. there used instead of their - there is a direction as in over there - their is another possessive as in that is their house over there
7. their used instead of they're - as in they're used to their kids stupidity
8. at the end of the day - Stop summing up with this phrase. It was fine when first bandied about NOW everyone uses it especially TV pundits. It has become a crutch. I literally cringe when I hear it. Yes, I do LITERALLY cringe.
9. I am blessed, blessed, so blessed - Here's where I almost scream. In practically every celeb interview this word or phrase is spoken. "I was blessed to get this coveted role of the stripper." "We are so blessed with high ratings for our series finale." Who is blessing these lucky people. God? God takes the time to wave his wand or whatever he waves and wallah - they get the part. You see, God could be blessing a hungry child in Rwanda but, no, he's giving Jennifer Aniston another 4 million dollar role in another innocuous romantic comedy. How blessed is that?
10. frigging, freakin', freegin - however you spell it, I find this slang more offensive then what it intends to substitute. It is so vulgar and, well, low life. Stereotypes come to mind when I hear this "word" such as an over the hill barfly, a shit kicking' redneck, a toothless grave digger, a drunk in a dive, a bartender in a dive, anyone in a dive!
11. amazing - Why is everything AMAZING today? I have had people describe a certain brand of toilet paper as amazing. A run of the mill restaurant, store, movie, book or play can no longer be described as merely good NO It's AMAZING! Let me help you out - those of you who may be guilty of this over statement. I'll tell you what's amazing - the Grand Canyon is AMAZING. Niagara Falls, the Mediterranean Sea, Italy, Hawaii, Meryl Streep, Akira Kurosawa, Barbra Streisand, spicy tuna sushi, Entemann's chocolate éclairs, classic jazz, a Sibelius Symphony, a really great meatloaf, Keurig coffee pods..............I'm getting carried away......amazing - right?
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