9 results for 'cranelegs'
It was the summer of '59. I was seven and a half and eager to be eight. Fortunately, eagerness couldn't change the calendar back then.
I had just completed a rather nasty B&E (i.e., break and entry to you law abiding types) at the Popoff house with ringleader/four-year-old brother, Ricky (a.k.a., "Handsome Devil"), and strong arm, "Bones" Eslinger (the neighborhood kid who defined "keeping bad company").
Yada, yada, yada—blah, blah, blah.
Ma, having been alerted to the affair within an hour by neighborhood watchdog Gertrude Vanderbeek, grilled me somethin' good, squeezing... (more)
If you are unpublished, you are one of my peeps. We are a nation of a million poor saps who scratch our heads in constant angst with every killer query letter returned in standard issue rejection, while we squirm in our Costco leatherite desk chairs to take pressure off the birth of a new hemorrhoid.
For my own sanity, I'd like to share some things I have learned over the past ten years. It is the least I can do. But before I begin, I must warn you, remove any loaded guns, put the arsenic away, tuck the noose under the bed, and pull the box of Kleenex near.
Are you ready? Let’s... (more)
I was ten years old. Mom wouldn't let me see The Alamo with the gang because it was too violent. After ten minutes of kid thought, I concluded my only option was to run away. So I walked into the kitchen and announced, “Mom, I'm running away! I'm going to Pennsylvania to be a farmer.”
And like any mother would do in 1962, she packed me a baloney sandwich, asked if I had clean underwear on, and made me promise to write her when the potatoes came in. Then she pushed me out the door, pointing to the west.
I walked up and around the block to pass through Carteret Park, my home away... (more)
I decided to get nuts. And when I get nuts, I go to Craigslist. It's like the nexus of the nuts universe. If it's not in Craigslist, then it's not worth not pursuing. Besides, I hadn't been there in quite some time really—well actually, ever since the last time I went. So to say I wasn't getting that old tinkle drop feeling of anticipation wouldn't be fair. I was.
Now the instigator of all this was some reading I've been doing about becoming a paid copywriter. It's something that suits me as far as I can tell, that is if I want to take my writing to the next level, or more accurately,... (more)
I've been in a bit of an introspective mood lately. Not something I dabble in often, but when I do—oh baby! With the approaching call of employment ringing in my ears, it is this writing thing I do that sits right in the crosshairs of the "spection" portion of introspection.
This "writing thing" started for me back in 1995 with a romantic comedy screenplay of all things. It was called, Roomance. The premise was simple: a frustrated married couple with young daughter separate, only to unwittingly and unknowingly fall for each other in an online chat room. They arrange a series of public... (more)
Well I decided to hone my humor writing skills a while back by replying to one pesky Nigerian email that caught my attention. I recommend that you do not try this at home, as I'm a professional (and dumb as cement really).
*****Email #1 from Nigeria with love (shortened):
This is to officially inform you that we have verified your contract file presently on my desk, and I found out that you have not received your payment due to your lack of co-operation and not fulfilling the obligations giving to you in respect to your contract payment. Secondly, you are hereby advised to stop dealing... (more)
If I want to find an agent to help me find a publisher for my book, I need a connection of some sort. I need to know an insider. When I think about the connections I might have, I know my son's future stepfather is a local political mucketty muck who has all sorts of connections. But given he has little to do with publishing and given the nature of the lynchpin to the relationship, it's a dead end for sure. So I have nothing. No connections, which shouldn't be a surprise to anyone, especially me when I consider the aversion I have to making “the connect”, a cornerstone to how I've run my life.... (more)
He’s pretty dead now. I thought he was dead already. But he wasn’t. He is now. So I started reading The Catcher in the Rye today.
There is a reason I'm doing this, and it's not just because he's some famous author who died. That's not my style. Actually, it's quite a story. You see old JD’s death reminded me of sixth grade. I had this friend, well not really. His name was Clark Shangle. My understanding is that he is dead too. Alcohol. I never saw that coming back in sixth grade. I figured if anything he’d live to annoy people at least two hundred years if not a day.
By the way,... (more)
ever have one of those nights when you fall asleep before brushing your teeth? and you wake up at three in the morning with that god awful, gloppy taste in your mouth? so you lumber half awake into the bathroom?and you don't turn on the light because you don't really want to wake up?so you brush your teeth in the dark?and you notice that the toothpaste doesn't have that minty clean taste?but you brush anyway because it's not so bad and you just want to get back to bed?so you rinse and stumble your clean teeth back to bed all satisfied and what not?then morning comes and you reach in the medicine... (more)
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