Sunday, June 17, 2012

One year older, 22 lbs. lighter, still cool as ever

I have learned over the past twelve months that I can accomplish many things through focused tenacity.

First there was work, turning a tough predicament into a chance to remake myself. I will never call it a blessing in disguise; I do not believe in such. This is a world full of chaos and opportunity. I got burned here in New Jersey but one year ago today, I got the offer to write news in New York. I may not be writing for TechCrunch or GigaOm but I am proudly competing with their reporters to deliver hot stories from Manhattan's tech scene.

Frankly, it is hard to top work nights that lead me through Times Square while I'm on my way home. There is something about the crush of activity happening there that gets me going. And then seeing the Empire State Building when I look over my left shoulder---well, it is worth the walk.

A couple of years ago I would not have believed I would be invited to a press conference with Mayor Mike Bloomberg and Google CEO Larry Page. I did not see myself as a reporter of such caliber. The world changes when you stop looking at your future through the biased eyes of others.

Then there was the matter of getting myself in better shape. I dropped a stone and a half over about three months, which I've blathered about before. Keeping the weight off required a commitment to my own health. It can be so easy to slip into overindulgence. No secret formula helps me maintain my weight. I just got into a routine and stuck with it.

Yet I still face my ongoing battle to get my fiction published. I sent Root Haven out to one editor who requested a look, I have another editor as well as a few agents to also run it past. Not going to lie, I thought Black Saturday would make the cut. It did get certain editors interested in seeing more of my work.
The focus for now remains on Root Haven but you have not seen the last of Black Saturday, I promise you that.

I'm too stubborn to give up, ya know?

So here's to my new year, 39 and counting.

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