Saturday, June 26, 2010

Lame director's cut

I picked up a DVD of The Last of the Mohicans (1992), one of my fav movies and was seriously let down by this director's edition.

I was SHOCKED by the loss of some of the most memorable moments of this movie. With the exception of George Lucas chopping apart his original Star Wars trilogy, I typically trust director's editions. Imagine my surprise at the removal of character development with certain dialogue excised.

What was Michael Mann thinking???

This actually looked like a TV edit rather than an expanded vision from the director. This is an inferior portrayal of a personal favorite.

How about a version that keeps ALL of it together? The theatrical elements AND the additional footage?

I got this DVD on sale with a free bottle of Coke. At least the Coke lived up to expectations.

Friday, June 25, 2010

watching "wrastling" with Ma

So I am over at Mom's watching some WWE action and it is quite the show when this sweet little lady is shouting "BITE HIM! RIP OUT HIS GUTS! POW!"

Yeah, Ma likes a good brawl.

It's been a rough couple of days with the work going on at the house. Contractors coming and going, the job we thought would take a week is turning more into two weeks. The sooner they are done, the sooner things can move forward.

You know, as tough as things are for my Mom, she still cares tons about her full grown kids. I try to rein her in when she gets too anxious about stuff. I remind her that me and my sisters must look out for ourselves and we will be okay, but she worries.

Like the other day when she called me up at work to tell me she was proud of me. She knew I was in a black mood the past few days.

Some folks might call us overly sentimental and such, but if you are going to make a fuss about anything it should be your family, dammit!

And sometimes you need family to catch you when you get some foolishness in your head. :-) I made a promise a while back not to put the family through that mess that went down a few years ago (they and a handful of others know what I mean) and I am sticking to it. Just gotta keep on trucking, tackling the tasks at hand.

So I will keep watching wrastling with Ma on Friday nights, talk gossip about folks, and laugh like fools. That's better medicine than you can find in bottle or yammering away on a therapist's couch.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

A reading from Heritage Fields

So here is that reading I promised, just the first five pages of Heritage Fields . . .

Reading a story aloud lets the writer get a feel for how the story flows. And it forces you to think about your word choice. Pardon the low-res video. It was late and I wasn't paying attention to the camera settings.


A published author recently suggested I consider e-publishers for getting my work in the hands of readers. While this may hasten my pursuit of getting Heritage Fields out there, I have my misgivings.

A certain intangibility surrounds e-publishing in my mind. True, more e-readers are on the market with new models to follow. But does this mean electronic-only novels are being read on par with titles that are also on bookshelves? I do not have any numbers on that yet. E-publishing is more of an independent route, like a band that gets air play strictly through online sources.

Further, I have seen material get removed from the Web after it was already published. A story is lot harder to erase once it is in print on paper. I will explore this, but continue my original game plan.

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Reading life out loud

Stories feel different when they are read out loud. It really gives you a whole new perspective on how the plot moves.

Think I might record a snippet from Heritage Fields for YouTube. It's good for me too because I can catch what doesn't work in the story.

I will do the opening pages first and see how that goes.

On a separate, unrelated note:

If you allow others to treat you like old comfortable shoes, you get tossed back under the bed when they get dressed for newer company.

Candor is always best... for everyone

Flame and Bone

When I was made from fire
Poured into the tender vessel of caution
That keeps my smoke from rising
Quickly did I discover that apart from crisp drizzles or falling snow
The world chilled my touched
Walking the narrow cornered gap between girders and cut stone
One learns to tuck his shoulders in or risk
Jostling a neighbor passing by rapt with want
For a clear path without the distraction
Of another man's boiling eyes
The tip of a finger
That oldest of all weapons
Grown deadlier and pristine in its invention
Gathers a mote of a cinder on its bare flesh
And turns pondering how best to scratch the impious itch
Prying open the tender seam
Where the oil of thought dews
Offering a new wick to ignite
Squirming alive as a salamander of mischief
That yearns for a taste of air it is so ready to devour
The steam of breath betrays me
Before the glint of orange spreads
In popping bright waves
Eroding the fibers feeding it
Leaving naught but ash
As my shell of quietude falls away