SpikeFremont

Hound

2012-02-03T18:30:00.000-08:00

The Hound

Alive and well is my hound, a mix of Lab and Golden Retriever with a pinch of Whippet thrown in just to make her as much of a freak as possible. She is thirteen years old and I am proud of that. I got her from the pound when she was two and I have nursed and shepherded her for the last eleven years. She was my tryout before having kids and apparently I navigated her nurture well enough to have two kids and didn't manage to shake or otherwise mangle them, so she was a good teacher. But now she is thirteen with a tumor on an eyelid, a fatty mass near her leg that may or may not be cancerous, and an ear infection. And my five year old son, who seems to have second sight, is upset because he thinks she is going to die.

A lengthy discussion of life and death ensued. I got my son calmed down but I am worried that he might be right, that Dakota may not be long for this world. I explained to James that she was old, that she has had a great life and that we would indeed be losing her someday. I told him the story of how I adopted Dakota and how she was lucky to have lived these last eleven years with us. He insisted she would be leaving soon. I'm afraid he might be right. I then had to inform both of my kids that when it did happen, we would not be replacing her. Two reasons. One, you can't. Two, I won't.

One, you can't replace a dog like this. Two, I will not go through the death of another pet. I can't, I won't.

The vet wants fourteen hundred dollars to cut the tumor off her eyelid. The dog is thirteen and was free. I guess that makes me a jerk. But, I know from watching my grandparents die that you can prolong life long past the time where life is productive. I would prefer to leave on my own terms. I wish I could speak dog, but if I could, I'm sure Dakota would tell me not to keep her alive past her level of enjoyment. I believe that a perfect life is one where you spend your last dollar on the day you die and that you die the day you stop having fun. It's a moving target and I would prefer to err on the side of still living. Again, I wish I could speak dog so I could get Dakota's take, but I can't.

So, I have to make that choice for her. I know that she does not want me to spend fourteen hundred dollars to get rid of the cyst. I know she does not want to be propped up. I know that this is a dog that chased frisbees and is fast as hell. I know that this is a dog that wants to go out on top. And, I owe that to her. It will be difficult, but I will let her go, when she is ready, on terms that she is comfortable with. That means making her comfortable and giving her dignity.

I hope I am afforded the same dignity.

Spike

Reading

2012-01-27T16:55:00.000-08:00

I have many shortcomings that I am aware of, and many more that are pointed out to me daily. In spite of these, I have managed to attract a mate and procreate. My progeny are eight and five, girl and boy respectively. I have had many experiences in the last nine years that have humbled me as a member of humanity and as a man. None so much as my experience today.

When my daughter was six months old I took her to open a bank account in her name at the local bank. I'm at a credit union that has an office for such transactions. While I sit in the office with five other customers, my daughter across my lap, she needs to move and when I say move, I mean bowels. A pink flush runs up her face and I am aware of what is to come. Like clockwork, a grunt is followed by audible flatulence which makes me the center of attention. I affect a grim rictus and with aplomb and timing, ask the receptionist if there isn't a bathroom that we can avail ourselves of to affect a change of clothes for my daughter. All pretense of masculinity is stripped from my facade at that moment, and forever.

Four years later I am at the Tragic Kingdom with my year old son and my four year old daughter. We commence our trip with an E ticket ride in a cab to LaGuardia that culminates with my son demonstrating explicitly how projectile vomiting manifests. We experienc the joy of public opinion when we strip James on the curb in 30 degree weather while we try to minimize the collateral damage of projectile vomiting. We go through an entire pack of baby wipes in hopes of cleaning up the car seat and our son. Vomit clothes stowed in lawn and leaf bags, car seat cleaned, as well as possible, stuffed into a plastic bag, we dutifully make our way through TSA and flew to Orlando.

Have you ever gotten just a whiff of something rank? You move, right, to be a few more feet away from the offending object. Imagine yourself in an International airport, like Orlando, and getting that whiff. Then you realize that the whiff of stank is from the baggage claim thirty five feet away. Then imagine the horror when you realize that whiff is your car seat. What would you do?

If you are me, you get that garbage bag and throw that $70 car seat away, even if you know it is going to cost you $12 a day to rent one from Hertz. So, stash that bag on a garbage can, rent the car seat and eat that $80 charge and head to Didney. Then, find out that the projectile vomiting wasn't from the drunk cab driver's lurching driving but was actually a stomach flu.

Sitting in the Tragic Kingdom with your 2 year old son stretched across your lap, uncomfortable in the heat and apparently suffering from a stomach issue. The familiar flush of face, the ubiquitous grunt and flatulence as runny diarrhea warms your leg through his clothes, then yours. Make a quick break for the stroller...diapers and wipes not in that stroller, but the other one, one hundred yards away at "It's a Small World." Hold your kid out in front of you, a talisman, and watch the sea of people part.

In retrospect, all great experiences for me. I have enjoyed them. I'm sure there are several more in my future. But, I read two books to my son's Kindergarten class today. It was his week. he brought his favorite toys on Tuesday, a poster of his family on Wednesday, and a family member to read today. I was that family member.

His teacher directed them all to the carpet and gave me the seat of honor. I read two books. It really doesn't matter what I read. He didn't care. He was proud of me. He sat, eyes azure and bright, locked on mine while I read, but always checking his classmates. His looks aside spoke volumes. "That's my Dad. Don't you love him?" Every time I looked at him, the joy, admiration and pride were evident. "That's my Dad. Don't you love him?"

It went fast. I was nervous, but it was over before I knew it. I learned that I know, "That's my son. I love him?"

Brothers

2012-01-11T20:03:00.000-08:00

Had an epiphany today. Actually, had it shoved in my face. My friend Steve did it, Held it up in my face, rubbed my nose in it and pointed out the obvious. It wasn't obvious to me, but it was to him. Been having some issues with my parents. Normal stuff. Normal, unless you lost a brother...or a child, which means us, which means not normal, unless you lost a brother...or a child.

See, it was my brother. When I was five and that kid hit me and I let go of my balloon, Jon found me a new balloon. Then he found that kid. When I was five and fell on that hammer and had my tooth ripped from my upper jaw, I was with Jon. When it didn't grow back until I was seven and I had to go to speech therapy, Jon went with me. When I went to the Vanderkins to be babysat as a four year old, who walked me there, kissed me on the lips and told me he loved me? Yep, it was Jon. On the first day of school at Sabin, when Michael West made fun of me for putting on lipstick (chap stick), and I started crying. Who bashed his head against the wall? It was Jon. When I was placed in a gifted class with 2nd and 3rd graders and Mrs. Hooper grilled me about the stolen pencils, who led the rebellion? It was Jon. With whom did I pack a lunch and freeze Kon Tiki soda cans so we could go pick berries at Jim Fuji Farms at four in the morning. Jeans, boots, tee shirt, shirt, flannel, coat- layered against the cold, to make four dollars, for me, fifteen dollars, for him. Jon.

When I struggled in college, who sent me my own postcards and blackmailed me for a quarter about things that had long passed, just to get a smile, never seen or realized by the writer. It was Jon. "If you don't send me a quarter, I'll tell Mom about the time you shoplifted a Snickers." Ironic in its inception, the postcards given me by our grandmother, ludicrous in its execution - pretty sure my mom wasn't concerned with my light fingered habits of youth. It was a perfect recipe to defunkify my collegiate life. Me, struggling with the academics at the local state college, him thriving at Stanford. Jon.

A lonely evening at the hospital, I roll in. "Jon's brother, hold on." I'm regal, royalty at this hospital. Jon joins me shortly. We go to the cafeteria together, brothers, and eat Thanksgiving dinner, commercial turkey, stuffing and gravy, three thousand miles from our family. We talk. We know. This is kin, brothers.

Six months later, I have dinner with him again, at the hospital cafeteria. He seems tired, has been travelling. It doesn't matter. We are kids again, giggling about mom and dad, laughing about the adventures. We tell jokes. We are seven again, my brother Jon and I. He grills me, I question him. My big brother, Jon, who is four inches shorter and 40 pounds lighter, looking out for me. He travels a lot and when he is gone, I fill his fridge with designer hot dogs and import beers. When he gets home, we try the dogs and drink the beers. Sabretts with Spaten, Boar's Head with Budweiser, Nathan's with Heineken. I have recently turned him on to 7/11's hot dogs - $1.29 but add all the chili and cheese you can. He tells me, laughingly, about sitting on the curb at 7/11 and wolfing down a dog with chili and cheese after swimming 3000 meters, his daily exercise. He is fit, 5'9" about 145. He swims two miles five times a week, but he looks tired. I blame it on the travel.

The ER is separated into two sides and he sees me out from the left side. There are two big double doors there. He stands, watching me, as the doors close. He is not in his white jacket, just wearing a button down and a tie, out of uniform. I know that I will see him tomorrow. We have no plans, but we see each other every day, so I know I will see him tomorrow. Most likely, it will be for a beer and a Camel Light, we keep a pack in his green mailbox on the porch. I fully expect to be on his porch tomorrow, drinking a Heineken, smoking a Camel Light from his mailbox. I know this, but I still tell him I love him. It's a habit I have adopted.

"Love you!"

"Love you too."

And the next time I see Jon, he is laying on the floor, in his kitchen, his right arm across his face, a Stouffers Beef and Tomato in the microwave above him.

It looked like he just layed down, all peaceful like, to take a nap. My brother Jon. Asleep, forever, on the floor of his kitchen, waiting for a Stouffers frozen dinner.

Wonder why I am pissed?

WTF?

2011-12-10T19:56:00.000-08:00

I have matriculated. I am not sure how that will affect me as a teacher or as a parent, and frankly, the latter is my greatest concern. I so want to be a great father, but, I think that a continuing education is part of me being a good father, so...I am enrolled in an MFA program in Creative Writing. I am sure that I will get some heat for this, but I need to do it. Nuff said.

New Journey

2011-12-08T21:12:00.000-08:00

Yeah, hey, how you doin?

Off on a new journey, thinking I'm gonna kill this blog. I know this is gonna hurt you's and yours, but, whateva. Going to school am I , gonna get a fuckin mfa, whateva, you know. Be good youze, and see youze soon.

Hounds of Life

2011-06-10T18:17:00.000-07:00

6-10-2011

After my brother passed away in July of 2001 I was blessed with the opportunity to upgrade my living conditions. While I wasn't given his house outright, I was able to move in and it helped to ameliorate his loss. I have written extensively about the loss and it wears on me daily. One of the first things I did after moving in was to acquire a dog - specifically, Dakota. I picked her up at the pound after a bizarre episode involving me, my fiancé' and the ASPCA of Orlando, Florida.

Having decided to solemnize our relationship and declare our relationship before the law and the lord, our first order of business seemed to involve taking on responsibilities that demonstrated, at least to us, our readiness to procreate. Like most new couples, that involved a dog when it should have involved a fish, a hamster, a snake or some other animal lower than a mammal. In retrospect, an ant farm might have been most appropriate, since, after all, who really cares if you forget to feed the ants, or if the ants die. At least with ants you can just toss them out in the yard which precludes flushing the fish down the toilet or finding a shoebox in which to bury the hamster. Least conspicuous of all would have been a rattlesnake which would have at least provided sustenance without the messy requirements of ridding ourselves of the evidence of our incompetence. Jonathan Swift might have been on to something.

Stupid is as stupid does and we dutifully slogged down to the animal shelter, ostensibly to look at what was available, but not to adopt. Being the consummate dork, I had researched what type of dog might be acceptable to us and our emergent lifestyle. My research yielded several important findings. We would be most suited to finding a dog without a wet mouth, that did not shed and that was low energy. We would not fall into the trap of most pound shoppers; we would not be taking a dog home on our first visit. Instead, we would coldly and with cunning calculation, view the animals available, leave the facility and return home to discuss our options, then return when we were confident of adding an animal to our small household that would be a perfect fit.

I think most discerning readers can predict accurately what happened. We walked into the facility and were immediately confronted with the option of turning right or continuing straight. Being a fan of Robert Frost, I opted for the road less traveled and we were immediately confronted with our first option, on the right. A mixed breed dog that was part Yellow Lab, part Golden retriever and part Whippet. An odd looking hound with upright ears and anxious nature, she was appealing. She had been dropped off just 30 minutes prior to our arrival.

We continued down the road less traveled and were confronted with several different snarling, angry versions of Pit Bull or Rottweiler or some strange combination of both. It was clear to both of us that the pick of this litter was the first dog we had seen, the mix that was the first dog on the right.

We asked to have the lab, retriever, whippet mix be let out to play with us in a small enclosure intended for this purpose. I threw a ball, she retrieved it...again and again. I rubbed her ears, pinched her paws and rolled her on her back, all activities advised by my research, in an effort to determine her suitability for our household and the children we had not yet had but were very much counting on. She passed with flying colors.

Having suitably completed our visit, I advised my betrothed that we were ready to return home, much to her dismay. She insisted we take that dog home, "or else someone else would." I responded that would be great as that was the purpose of the pound in the first place and reminded her that we had agreed that we would not be bringing a dog home that day. We were merely looking to see what was available.

There have been many battles that I have lost in the ensuing ten years but this battle is the one I am most glad to have lost. We dropped over two hundred dollars that day on adoption fees, spay fees and equipment, but we brought her home, that Dakota, the hound with the wet mouth, that sheds and that is hyperactive.

We got Dakota home and I commenced her training in the only fashion I knew - a mix of uncommon sense and research. I connected her leash to my belt to teach her to focus on me and recognize me as her leader. All I taught her was to pee in our bathroom. I made her homemade dog food with a pressure cooker from chicken parts and learned that the wrong diet results in bloody diarrhea and vomit in the crate. I learned that dogs do not know when to quit and bloody paw prints on a pool deck indicate it might be time to stop throwing the Frisbee. I learned that if your three year old steps on your sleeping dog, she is going to growl and snap, but she might not bite. I learned that if I try to pull my dog out of a fight with another dog when she thinks she is protecting her kids, she is going to bite me too. I learned to love the dog that pees her bed at night, that sheds enough to knit a new sweater every two days and that barks at shadows now that she is 13 years old. I learned to whistle or to stomp to get her attentions because she is deaf now. I learned to love a noble animal.

And now, as I follow her halting gate up stairs, as I worry about the tumor, fatty and not cancerous I assume, as I brush her, as I hug her, I realize what it means to share a life with a good friend. I have had her for eleven of her thirteen years, and I hope to have her for another eleven. But I know. I know we are nearing the end and I have regret. I regret not training her, not spoiling her and not enjoying her more, and that is why she has been a great dog. She has taught me to raise my kids.

I will not be confronting my last days and thinking the same thoughts about my children. I will not have regrets about time spent with them. I will wear it out daily. This is what my dog, Dakota, has taught me and this is why every man needs a dog.

Whoa!

2011-01-01T17:48:00.001-08:00

Lonely, lonely for being a fool. Life is rough and it is kicking my ass right now. I haven’t posted here since May and that is a reflection of the ass kicking life is giving me. I know that the beat down is my own fault, but I still am not treasuring it. Whateve!

I haven’t written in a while and my lack of production is weighing heavily on me. I really need to finish my novel and get it off to an agent so I can move forward, but it is hard. I have kids and a day job and they take a lot of time, but my heart is truly in finishing this novel.

I will roll.

Spike

Morals, Ethics, Honesty

2010-05-11T20:39:00.000-07:00

As a writer I am aware of all of the different methods of criticism. Most lay readers aren’t reading for criticism –they are reading for interest. However, I read and write with an eye to the critic. This doesn’t necessarily mean that I write better or more efficiently; it means that I write more defensively. With this in mind I address the issues of the day.

What, exactly, are the issues of the day? In my opinion, the issues are honesty, ethics and morality. Are the leaders of this nation being honest, ethical and moral? Are the leaders of your community being honest, ethical and moral? I think the resounding answer is no.

So, what do you, as an honest, ethical and moral voter and member of the community do about your elected leaders not being honest, ethical and moral? One thing you can do is justify and rationalize their behavior. “Well, they all do it and they are just trying to bring economic development to our neighborhood.” It sounds good when your Congressman tacks on pork for that park when Congress is passing a bill to supply training to Iraqi Police.

However, that Pork takes money out of every taxpayer in America’s pocket. It is stealing. We didn’t vote for the swing set in your park. We voted for Democracy in Iraq. And if it is your Congressman or Senator that attached that pork to the bill, let them know you are unhappy about their actions.

How do you live your life in an honest, ethical and moral fashion? Well, for one thing, you can reduce your carbon footprint. Carpool, walk, ride a bike, buy local and support your community by spending your money there. There are probably five farms within 100 miles of where you live. Buy from them. Carpool to work, ride your bike, do whatever you can to avoid using fossil fuels – turn your heat down, change your filters.

I am tired of paying good money for gas and oil. I don’t think this administration is going to fix it. Speak. Do it by cutting your consumption. If every American saved two gallons of gas, we would cut our dependence on oil by 600 million gallons, or 1.8 billion dollars. It’s a simple equation. Make the math work, please!

Democracy?

2010-04-26T20:28:00.000-07:00

Just wondering where we are going as a country when the SEC regulators are cashing in at $225K per year to watch porn while Goldman Sachs perpetrates arguably one of the largest frauds on investors. Is it just me or is our country suffering from a serious lack of morals and ethics? We are rapidly becoming third world – teach your kids to speak Mandarin because it is the new Spanish. When America is funded and backed by China, or any other country, well, “Houston, we have a problem.”

We have always benefited from fiscal relationships with other countries. We need to be diplomatic players in the world, more importantly than being the world cop. However, when we lack the moral spine to perform as a democracy, then we forfeit the right to advocate democracy. What is, and has been, happening in Washington is a travesty. And lest ye dems rise up in arms, I extend my reprobation to the administrations of both W and H, and by association of era, Bill. We forfeit our right to advocate democracy when we no longer participate in one.

Arguably, financial interests run this country. This means big business and big labor. We are corrupt, from the Mayor, or county Supervisor, all the way up to the White House. We fail to provide the minimum necessities to our constituents and hide behind the easy red herring of immigration or filibuster. The fabulously wealthy continue to enrich themselves while the middle continue to bleed sweat, tears and money into the economy. The only outlet for the middle is to climb to the top, at the expense of others. This leads to a lack of morals and ethics. Witness the many Ponzi schemes and frauds that litter the media lately. Trust me, for every one you read about, there are ten that never surface.

So, I guess the lesson is, nice guys finish last. Is this the message we want to export as democracy. Is this what we want to teach Iraq and other emerging “democracies?” No. We are morally bankrupt.

How do we fix this? Get involved, get active. Run for office, run for your school board, and then stay true to your morals. Have a compass to guide you and live a square life.

Manglement

2010-04-19T20:34:00.000-07:00

Issue Du Jour:

We all want to get up, but how we get up seems to be an issue. Is it worth climbing over somebody to get to the top? What if that somebody is your dude, your bro, your homey? Is it still worth it?

NO! No, and no.

It is okay to rise through hard work and performance. But, it is not okay to throw someone under the bus, especially a colleague, even if that colleague is not good. It’s better to let your work speak for itself and to deflect credit when credit is due.

“Billy, you did a great job on that project.”

“Well Tony, I got a lot of help on that project from Allan. He’s a superior employee and I am glad to have him on my team.”

Who’s the hero in this situation?

“Billy, you did a great job on that project.”

“Thanks Tony, but I had to do a lot to carry Anne’s load, she was really worthless.”

Do you see how much better Billy looks in the first situation? Of course you do. Why? Because you are smart. Not like your bosses, who are stupid. Work hard, give credit and you will rise. Just ask my friend Nick.

“Nick, tell us about your boss.”
“Well, my new boss is mean. He always threatens to fire us, no matter how hard we work. We grind and grind putting in new turf, but he is never satisfied.”

“What about your old boss?”
“My old boss, Jim, used to praise us, tell us what a great job we were doing. We worked a lot harder for him because we liked him and wanted to work for him. We got a lot done with him.”

There you have it. Praise, criticize and praise. Simple management advice that even a tire store owner can follow.

Duh!

Pantoums

2010-03-24T18:25:00.000-07:00

As a writer I am prejudiced - I hate poetry. However, understanding structure and form helps me to construct narratives. I have been exposed to different forms or patterns in prose narratives often - the buddy story, the coming of age story, the monomyth - all archetypes that I respect. Poetry is a different story.

I find that I am forced to grow as a writer by trying to conform to a structure. I like structure. It helps me write. So, Pantoums. It's not much, but it's mine.

Grass reeked today of
promise and growth and birth.
Ice cream trucks traversed the town
with promises of fun and mirth.

Promise and growth and birth
rose today on this patch of brown
with promises of fun and mirth
that made me look up, not down.

Rose today on this patch of brown
ideas of spring and summer
that made me look up, not down.
Winter wakes from its slumber.

Ideas of spring and summer
evoke memories of beaches and redwood.
Winter awakes from its slumber
prodding all of the deadwood.

I hope it tickles you.

Spike

Pundit Profundity

2010-03-11T20:44:00.000-08:00

I get a kick out of the pundits and sometimes, I would like to return the favor literally, not figuratively. I hate to admit it but my viewing habits lean heavily towards Jon Stewart and Steven Colbert. My dirty little secrets are the Rehab series, Tool Academy, and yes, I did watch Jersey Shore. However, I am an adult, fully formed and able to make a decision about consuming things that might be bad for me, whether it’s gustatory or visual. Unfortunately, most of America is not capable of making this decision. Which brings me to Glenn Beck, Rush Limbaugh and the rest of the predatory pugilists of prodigious profundity; why do these idiots have a voice?

Of course these mental midgets are heard because they prey on the most base instincts and fears of the majority of the population. Peeps are afraid that immigrants are taking their jobs, taking their girls and ruining the property values in the neighborhood. Listeners buy in because they are given validation for their own fears and hatred. They lack the sophistication to take a step back and ask the question – what does this jerk have to gain by voicing this hatred?

Here is the answer – money. We are becoming an increasingly mercenary society. God is not dead; he has just changed his name to money, at least for these sycophants. An alacrity to articulate polemic propaganda as a means for monetary enrichment might just be the vilest violation of public trust possible. While I am not convinced of the existence of god, I still try to live my life according to the golden rule and, in my opinion; these bastards are violating that rule.

So, be fiscally responsible, be tight with a buck, be Republican, but, don’t forget, we all share this country and this earth. Follow the rule of campers; leave it better than you found it. Are these folks leaving the campground better? I think Stewart and Colbert are trying. I think O’Reilly and Beck are not, and for that reason, I think there is a special place across the river Styx that has a reservation for them.

Spike

Yadda About Nada

2010-03-05T15:29:00.000-08:00

Seriously considering an MFA in the very near future for several reasons - the main one being selfish. I love to learn, to discover new processes and explore new ideas. I think an MFA would help organize my thoughts and provide more structure and planning to my writing. Who knows.

Little time to write these days so I am not sure why I think I could finish an MFA. I guess sometimes I get so bogged down in the day to day minutia that I just want a change, something new, some type of renewal. Of course London wrote about the two divergent paths to writing - the first path is to write everyday for a set period of time and you can finish a novel in three months. Take one off and do it again. At the end of a year, you have written three novels. Of course, they will all get rejected by publishers, but you WILL be a better writer. After five years, and 15 novels, you will be good enough to get published.

The other path is to start small, write freelance for magazines and develop a reputation. Then, parlay the rep into a relationship with an agent, write, market, etc...either way, five years.

I guess I am taking the second path. I have two shorts published with www.redrosepublishing.com and available on Kindle at www.amazon.com and the publisher, among many other sites, but, the well has dried up for now. No time -sucks to be me.

However, and this is where you come in, if I can sell a few more books, my publisher will put me into print. Then I can actually do signings at Borders and Barnes and Noble, not to mention county fairs and tag sales. That may get some more momentum to the book and motivate me to write more, so, help an author out.

If you are so inclined, drop by www.redrosepublishing.com and look me up under the author tab to purchase "A Slice of Life," or, to purchase "Pickup Lines From a Pickup Truck," look up Cara Preston (my co-author). You can also go to www.amazon.com and type in Spike Fremont in the author box. Both books are less than two bucks and you can be reading them in the next five minutes.

Keep reading - hopefully I'm on your list.

Spike

Spike being Spike

2010-01-26T21:00:00.000-08:00

I hope I have a few new peeps here. I have been gently promoting and it would be nice if a few folks stopped by to see me.

I am disturbed by the nature of education, but that has little to do with Spike, so I will move on. I am working on another short, hope to have it out by the summer, but the whole editing and cover art process is cumbersome, so you never know.

I would encourage visitors to friend me on facebook. I think I am the only Spike Fremont on there, if not let me know. You can email at Spikefremont@aol.com - I check almost daily.

Until I get another wild ass idea, peace!

Spike

Edumacation

2009-12-14T15:42:00.000-08:00

I have recently received a Masters Degree in how to lie with statistics. My current millieu is without contract and I have witnessed first hand both sides being disingenuous through their use of facts; skewing facts to the particular message desired and outright lies. It's a pleasure to be a teacher in this environment.

Atticus Finch tells his kids that it is a sin to kill a mockingbird. My experience shows that there are no mockingbirds when it comes to education; not the parents, not the teachers, not the kids and not the administrators. It's every man, woman and child for themselves. It takes a contract dispute to clarify the mercenary role of educators in American society. The message we learn is that it is everyone for themselves. There is no community, no "educational environment," and no concept of doing the right thing.

As a parent, this is disheartening, yet enlightening. I will internalize this experience as a teacher, as a taxpayer and, as a parent. It's unfortunate, but this world is all about money. Teachers want it, taxpayers want it, administrators want it. All of this want means that we are eventually stealing from the kids. And that my friend, sucks!

Nanowrimo

2009-10-26T20:02:00.000-07:00

Whew, time flies and, it's that time of year again; Nanowrimo! For the uninitiated, that means National Novel Writing Month. It happens every November and I am fascinated by it. I usually sign up, write a thousand words in a burst of inspiration, and then ignore it for the next 29 days until my failure mocks me miserably as the calendar grinds inexorably forward.

Not this year. I am recruiting students to write with me so we can all go down in flames together! Yay!!

It started small for me but now I am cranking it up a level. I hope to get thirty five kids to fail with me so I can get the educator kit from Nanowrimo.org - cool charts and buttons! Whoopee!

Here's to nothing.

Spike

GoodBye Senator!

2009-08-26T22:29:00.001-07:00

As a child, I learned about the Kennedy family – money, privilege, and of course, the curse. I grew up as a child of Republican parents, and of course, I became a Republican. I made fun of the Kennedy’s – it was too easy; Jack was a rum runner, Teddy was a drunk. It was easy for them to be liberal –they had the money, ill gotten gains of a maverick.

Of course, age and maturity softens the outlook. As a college student, still Republican, I began to feel for the Kennedy’s. They gave so much as a family, and lost so much, for public service. However, I chalked it up to their desire to be in politics, to be “public figures.”

When John John struggled with the Bar and Maria became a public figure, I started to feel for them. I took perverse pleasure in his inability to pass the Bar; I liked the fact that this good looking icon struggled.

Of course, later, I regretted my glee. But, I always felt, somehow, this family deserved its curse. The ski death of a scion and Teddy’s divorce did nothing to ameliorate my animosity. In fact, Teddy’s increasingly liberal bent provoked me.

Teddy had always been Teddy – Chappaquiddick, Mary Jo, Joan and Victoria, and his constant railing for liberal causes –jeez, give me a break.

Then, something strange happened. I started to appreciate him, just like I started to appreciate Barney Frank. This was a dude who got it – it wasn’t about politics for him anymore, it was about doing the right thing, as he saw it. He knew that his dad’s dream of a higher office wasn’t going to happen and he just got down to business, took care of what was important, as he saw it.

And, he made shit happen!

Senator Edward M. Kennedy – making shit happen.

This was a righteous dude. I never fully agreed with his politics, but I think he did what he thought was right. There may be stains on his soul, but he did his best to rock, and for that, I appreciate and respect him.

Senator Edward M. Kennedy – my hat is off to you!

Rest in peace!

That’s what a dream is!

2009-07-07T16:40:00.000-07:00

That’s what a dream is!

I received my equipment from my DME and am sleeping well, even dreaming. I don’t want to make a big deal of this, but it is a panacea for me.

Woohoo!

US Open

2009-06-20T22:18:00.000-07:00

I doubt anyone will be checking my predictions, but here they are. Mike Weir, Lee Westwood or Retief Goosen will win the US Open. My money is on Weirsy.

Spike

Issues

2009-06-18T15:58:00.001-07:00

For the last five years I have been ignoring an issue that I need to confront. I am tired. My exhaustion affects my job, my life, my health and adversely impacts the lives of my children. I have ignored this problem because I felt that I was just lazy, but the issue has become more important because of the nature of my current employment. When one diagnosis oneself with laziness, it leads to a lack of self confidence; it’s your own dirty little secret. I sneak naps in my car during lunch, before my kids get home and when I am supposed to working independently. These furtive sessions of sleep make me feel lazy and selfish and contribute to a lack of self esteem.

I’ve been avoiding the issue. In 2003 I was diagnosed with sleep apnea. I am 6’1” tall and weighed, at the time, 195 pounds, certainly not svelte, but not obese. I found out through a sleep study. I snored loudly and told my doctor and she ordered a sleep study. Sleep studies normally come in two parts; the first part is a night hooked up to wires that measure several functions. It revealed that I stopped breathing for significant periods of time and those stoppages woke me up. In a normal night of sleep, I got about 1 hour of restorative sleep.

I was asked to return for a second night of titration. In titration, you are hooked up to a Continuous Positive Air Pressure (CPAP) machine through a mask. The air pressure prevents your soft palate from collapsing which stops your breathing and wakes you up.

I woke up the next day feeling good, but not great. As the day wore on, I found myself energized – I wasn’t sleepy and had energy. By the end of the day, I felt like Superman – an entire day of work, 36 holes of golf and I went home and made dinner. Wow!

I was prescribed a CPAP machine but I was quitting my job and moving. I moved and had no support to deal with the issues associated with learning to live with a CPAP. I became noncompliant because the mask would leave bruises on my forehead and was causing scar tissue on the bridge of my nose.

Eventually, I sought help for a deviated septum. I had septoplasty and turbinate reduction and thought this would solve my apnea problem. Apnea is typically, and erroneously, associated with the obese. I was in denial.

This year, things came to a head. I had an inordinately difficult work schedule and had gained about 20 pounds since my sleep study. I found myself sleeping in my car, sleeping for 12-14 hours every night and sneaking naps like a crackhead sneaks hits. I’ve found that apnea causes hypertension, irritability and an inability to concentrate. It also makes the sufferer seek energy through carbs, leading to weight gain, among other attractive side effects.

So, I asked for another sleep study, which revealed, …severe hypopnea – a reduction in breathing but not a complete stoppage like apnea. However, my oxygen levels were reduced to 74 percent and I had 77 events in 4 hours, meaning…for every eight hours of sleep that I got, I got about one hour of real sleep. This explains the naps.

Relief, but not remediation, yet. I am currently waiting for delivery of a new CPAP and am worried about overcoming the challenges. But, I am looking forward to feeling like Superman again. Having a restorative night’s rest is high on my pert chart. I hope to be able to complete my work, to play with my kids and to get some shit done around the house. None of which, in my opinion, is too much to ask.

I am now around 210 pounds. Not ideal, but not clinically obese. My BMI is 27. I am 45 years old and look forward to many more years of productive life, raising my kids, playing golf and growing old as a productive member of society. I write this in the hope that anyone reading it that is suffering from lethargy, hypertension, irritability or daytime sleepiness, will take the hint and get a sleep study. I know the CPAP will solve my problems – assuming I am compliant and not really lazy. Take it seriously, it can make a difference.

The Brother Code

2009-05-21T23:43:00.000-07:00

I watched “Milk” tonight and I came to the realization that my brother set many landmarks that influenced the person I am today. I never completely understood his motivations for the things he did, but it seems clearer now. I think, in his own way, he was clearing the way for me to be accepting and non judgmental. And, he did it in a way that was acceptable to me – he moved me towards acceptance and tolerance in a manner that wasn’t offensive – I didn’t realize it was happening.

As a 16 year old, I thought we went to drink and play pool at The Black Crow because they didn’t card me. We could drink and play pool and be cool. Sure, there were a lot of fags there, but we were just drinking and playing pool, and they let us.

As a 17 year old, we went to Darcelle’s to watch female impersonators because he liked music and pageantry, what did I know? Between Darcelle’s and Rocky Horror, it was all the same shit – I was just hanging with my big brother.

His fascination with the assassination of Harvey Milk never clicked for me. We were watching it on TV and he surmised that Dan White was a closet homosexual when he murdered Milk and Moscone. But he was obsessed with it. I kept going to fag bars with him – they were the only places that would let me drink underage.

Much later, I moved to his town. He was thinner, cleaner and more private than I was used to. I adopted many of his habits – they just made sense. It was humid, hence the excessive use of baby powder. We swam to stay thin, rode bikes to be healthy, groomed ourselves to be clean. I never suspected.

When he came out to me on his porch, over a Camel Light and a Bud Light, I wasn’t surprised. It really didn’t matter to me, he was my brother and I loved him. “I really don’t care, I love you.”

“I know that. I have always known that. But, what you don’t realize is that I am afraid of being fired. I am afraid mom and dad won’t love me. I am afraid of not having kids, of being persecuted because of who I am, and I have been this way ever since I can remember. You read Sports Illustrated, I looked at the pictures.”

That conversation initiated an internal journey of discovery for me. I began to analyze my relations with other people and other cultures. I took to “chaperoning” my brother to gay bars – disco and bear bars. He tended to prefer the bear bars. The guests thought we were a couple and were shocked to find out that we were brothers – I think it gave him a distance to cruise without being engaged.

For me, I found it liberating to hang with gays without being objectified. Sure, some dudes hit on me, I’m not a troll after all, but I had an in, my brother. I find now that I am always looking for the in – I want to be accepted in different cultures; black, Hispanic, gay – all of them.
Middle aged white man wants to be accepted in all cultures – that’s my personal statement. I still powder post shower, shower religiously – sometimes three times a day, trim body hair, use cologne – I am well groomed. The grooming thing is a part of the legacy my brother left me. Regret for using perjorative terms – that’s the rest of the legacy.

Peace!

Spike

I Write!

2009-05-19T21:31:00.000-07:00

My friends ask me if I still write, now that I am busy teaching and stuff. I agonize, but I conclude...

I write these days. Sure I do, I write. “Lacks development of key ideas - suggest you organize before writing.” Sometimes I write “your conventions are not up to an appropriate level for this class. I suggest you down track.” Other times I write “refer to the rubric - your meaning is unclear.” Often, it is just “Lacks a controlling idea.”

What is the point? I still write! I may not write myself, but I write. My writing may not be an expression of my own ideas, my own thoughts and dreams dribbling and drabbling onto paper, it may not be fulfillment of my ideas rolling out of my brain with the tick, tick, tick of the computer keys signifying a stream of my consciousness, but, I write. I may lack the joy of ideas rolling out of my brain like the waves of a noreaster piling up on Jones Beach, or a jag of writing about things that make me pause and say, what the hell? But, I still write.

Sometimes writing is just writing. Just expressing yourself, putting words on paper, as it were, is still writing. It doesn’t have to be development of a novel, or another chapter in the memoir; sometimes writing is just about writing. And, sometimes, telling my students to organize first is all the writing I do. And, that is okay.

Sometimes. Sometimes.

But not now. I feel an itch. I will scratch!

Spike

Aging Ungracefully

2009-04-18T17:58:00.001-07:00

Back from vacation, a few pounds heavier for the travel, but ready to get back to work...sort of. I managed to revisit a previous midlife crisis today and went out and bought a pair of Rollerblades. I'm about 6'4" wearing them and because I am so old and decrepit, I wear all the protective gear, including a brain bucket. The whole family had to come out and watch me try to make it down the street, various appellations such as "loser" and "dork" being bandied about as I trundled off.

It's much harder than I remember. Within one hundred yards my shins were burning, my stomach and back muscles twitching, exerting herculean efforts to keep me upright. I managed to make it around the block, my forehead slick with sweat, heaving to breathe. I couldn't get those skates off fast enough.

Cooked dinner, grilled salmon, couscous and brocolli, drank a beer and took another trip around the block, this time on the street instead of the sidewalk. Much mo betta! We'll see how long this lasts.

Late.

Spike

The Measure

2009-03-05T19:47:00.000-08:00

A Christian to a Lion?

I’m off to be observed tomorrow. Two years of Graduate School in Education that resulted in a teaching credential, expertise in pedagogy ranging from Erickson to Piaget, two years for a Masters in English, from Walpole to Emerson, all to be judged in a 42 minute lesson. I either can or can’t, based on 42 minutes; tenure and career weigh in the balance.

Is this any way to judge a teacher? I’m ready to call it good and move on. I have a much better paying career waiting for me, but, I want to teach, so, I have to go through it. Do I have an appropriate aim? A valid Do Now? Is there a medial summary and a summative evaluation? Tomorrow will tell whether I can teach or not, 40 minutes to justify my existence, my continued presence on the payroll. Is this how we judge our teachers? Forty two minutes?

What about my student that won the Poet Laureate award? What about my student that won an essay contest? What about my student that connected topic sentences? What about them? What about that? As Allen Iverson would say, “We talking about practice?”

Forty two minutes. What about my ability to teach life as a former General Manager? As a Sales Rep? Does that count?

No. It’s all about forty minutes tomorrow. Hit it, or hit the road, the world of a teacher, untenured. Rock or walk. No child left behind, the Bush legacy.

I’ll rock it, then I might walk. I got a paycheck waiting, I don’t need this job. This job needs me.

Peace, and maybe, out for good.

Spike

On Socialism and Our President

2009-02-27T14:25:00.001-08:00

Whoooo, I said the S word. I must be evil, some bleeding heart liberal with an axe to grind. Let the proletariat get the means of production and make a better world, Robin Hood and all that Jazz…not.

But, I do see an issue with the current state of affairs in America. I’m no Einstein, but I have come to the conclusion that the current system isn’t working, so I am not adverse to Obama making fundamental changes in government. Orwell warned of the dangers of totalitarianism and his take was that any vast disparity in class, be it caused by money, intelligence or power, created an opportunity for exploitation. We have been rapidly approaching a two class society in the last twenty years. This week the NY Times wrote about the recent concentration of wealth in the upper classes. I’ve always believed in Laissez Faire and the free market economy, but it appears the free market is a little too free.

So, what am I saying? Eat the rich? Not at all, but, I do think the current system of taxation is inequitable. When the middle class is paying 25-30 percent of their adjustable gross income in taxes and the upper class is able to shelter income and pay a much lower effective tax rate, the tax is regressive. It is neither fair nor moral. It needs to change.

That’s my rant for the week. Rock on.

Peace.

Spike

Musings Regarding My Navel and Other Important Shit

2009-02-03T21:29:00.000-08:00

Epiphany alert – yes, I know what the definition of epiphany is. To clarify, I will paste dictionary.com’s definition here: a sudden, intuitive perception of or insight into the reality or essential meaning of something, usually initiated by some simple, homely, or commonplace occurrence or experience.

It is interesting that I assume that is the primary definition, yet it is listed as the third definition on the website, after a Christian festival and an appearance of a deity. It’s all good. I guess that after you see god, or a deity, you have a sudden, intuitive perception or insight into reality.

My epiphany was the realization that I can be a miserable fuck, and I am tight with a buck and “in London you’re a gonner.” I can’t substantiate the rumor about the English sense of humor, but I can tell you that I get fixated on dollars and lose sense. My misses and I make good coin, yet my house is a meat locker because I am paying close to $400 monthly in oil to heat it. Compound that with a $300 LIPA bill, electricity for the uninitiated, and that is $700 monthly for lights and heat. And, it’s prime location for dry aging beef. What is wrong with this picture?

Top pay in my milieu is around $115K per year. That’s in the top 10 percent of income in the country. Almost $11k monthly. After taxes, $8,000. Average home price is $380K. With ten percent down, your purchase price of the average home is $342K. At 6% interest, assuming you qualify, That is a mortgage payment of $1900 per month. Add taxes and insurance, $3000 monthly. Add day care for two kids, now it’s $4300, plus the aforementioned heat and electricity, $5000.

Two cars at $300 each, plus gas and insurance, $1000. Life insurance, phone, groceries = $750. Cars, gas, insurance, life, phone and groceries = $2050.

Take the $5K from two paragraphs ago, add the $2050, $7050. That leaves a negative cash flow without contributing to kids college funds, savings or retirement. Epiphany!

Or, better yet, I was stuffing my face with potato chips in the basement and one fell. My initial response was to let it go, but, Long Island, rats, mice, roaches and ants went through my head, so I picked it up.

Obama, Obama, wherefore art thou Obama?
Deny thy party and refuse your platform;
if thou wilt not, be but sworn my protector
and I’ll no longer be a Republican.

Life is expensive. I chose to live where I do for several reasons. I am not at the top of the food chain so my numbers are much more dire than the picture I painted. But, don’t cry for me Argentina. Just recognize a need for a paradigm shift in America. It’s time we stopped compensating those in power with ill gotten gains and wild bonuses. The money needs to be redistributed to the middle class. I’m not talking wild ass shit about the proletariat, though they need to get their share too, but, it’s out of balance. Let us all be able to own or afford a home, have health care, if working and earnest, and to eat meat once in a while…oh yeah, and heat our house.

Is that too much to ask?

Self Interest

2009-01-28T21:21:00.000-08:00

There are times when I feel that blogging is an onanistic pursuit, a written pounding of the pudendum if you will. I’ve been blogging for a while and the only evidence of my production is the less than prodigious progeny of an ill equipped producer of dreck.

Be that as it may, I will continue my Sisyphean efforts to push my rock up my hill, and hopefully those that devour my liver won’t choke on its toxicity or its girth, We’ll see.

It is a sad state of affairs when a New Yorker is looking forward to traveling to Spo-vegas, but that is an accurate description of my life. Pickling upstairs with a Long Rifle 22 in my hands, cigarette at the ready, beer in hand, hunting the ubiquitous Wile E. Coyote, Genius, from a balcony, sounds oddly inviting. Four big screens, a well stocked bar, grandma and grandpa at the ready, is also inviting. Maybe the west coast isn’t so bad?

I will go, I will drink, and I will shoot. I will smoke, I will talk smack and I will enjoy. I will forget this week with 150 essays, with endless proctoring assignments, with snow and difficult commutes. It will all be the past and I will have passed it, like a kidney stone that really makes your cock hurt, but is transient. The bleeding stops, I hear. After all, life is just a series of people kicking your dick, right?

Thanks for witnessing me polishing my proverbial sword, for watching me tickle my literary pickle, for witnessing me jerkin’ my ideological gherkin and, for watching me wrestle my bald headed philosophical bastard. I think my alliterative and metaphorical work is done.

Spike

Ready For The Weekend

2009-01-23T17:21:00.000-08:00

I'm over, as much as I can be, the brother issue, for now. I know the subject can be a downer and I apologize if I have brought you down. It wasn't my intent. I just wanted to express what losing a close family member (redundant) is like, and to document my emotions. If you enjoy this subject, or commiserate with my feelings, be sure to tune in in 37 days when I go into my annual funk around his birthday.

In the meantime, I am funkified for other reasons; the sturm and drang of dealing with a new job, new school, new demographics and new material. It's not all bad - the kids are smart and respectful, the administration is supportive and the union is strong. However, dealing with all the changes is challenging and sometimes, okay, alot of times, I struggle to meet the challenge.

It can be dificult to swallow hearing a teacher/author whine about their situation in an economy that is sucking gas, an economy that is laying off good people, an economy where people don't have health care. I feel the same way.

So, let me tell you about the noises I hear upstairs. My son, having been put to bed is up, I hear his pitter patter on the ceiling - he is visiting his big sister.

I went up, tucked them both back in, rubbed backs, tickled heads and whispered assurances in their ears. Whose going to tuck me in, rub my back and whisper assurances in my ear? And, why do I need it?

I think we all need to be assured. Whether it is our spouse, our boss, our President, nod to Obama, we all need assurances that things are going to be okay. It is okay to sleep tight, it will be okay in the future, it is okay to invest in our country.

If it isn't, what are our options?

Spike

This Week

2009-01-16T19:14:00.000-08:00

This week is no different from any other. I lesson plan, I grade essays, I read.

This week is no different from any other. I miss Jon. I think about Jon. I look at pictures of Jon.

This week is no different from any other. I play with my kids, I tickle, I giggle, I laugh.

This week is no different from any other week. I weep, I laugh, I do it all.

This week is no different than any other week - I enjoy the journey.

Bruva's

2008-12-25T19:43:00.000-08:00

Celebrating the Holidays is bittersweet for me - I get to watch my kids run around like fiends, open presents and eat a lot of fatty, salty delicious foods. It’s a great time! My kids have such a joy de vivre for the holiday that I can’t help but get sucked out of my typical downward spiral of darkness.

However, I miss Murph. The vacuous gap he left doesn’t necessarily suck me down, but I just realize how big of a part he played in my life. Knowing how much he would have contributed to the life of my kids makes me melancholy and sad that he isn’t here to torture them - and I know he would have.

He would have tortured them by tickling, playing, drawing, painting and running around with them like a madman. I know that if he is looking down on me, he would be encouraging me to do the same, and so, I try to. To tickle, to tease, to torture. And I do, but it is Daddy, not Uncle Jon, and it is different. They have a rich life, but it would have been so much richer.

At the Holidays I always realize what I have. I have a home, a lovely wife and beautiful children. I have a great job, a purpose and a life. I value these things because I know what I don’t have. I don’t have my bruva, MonJonMayoJayoPelayoDelayo, the Baby Eraser, Zach, EraserMan, aka Murph, and I really miss him!

Spike

Moving On!

2008-12-06T19:55:00.000-08:00

I worked for a while at a place and I made connections, people I loved and cherished. Before that, I worked at another place, and before that, I worked at another place. Before all of that, I went to school with people I loved and cherished. Every time I was at a place, I thought “these people will always be my friends.”
When I moved, those people were my friends, for awhile. Then, things seemed different. Then they seemed strained, I couldn’t connect with them anymore. Then, we didn’t talk anymore. I missed them and I would call, but things were different. I either stopped calling, or they stopped taking my calls.
I have a few friends that have survived the moves. They are the people that I love and hold dear to me. They call, they talk, they come see me. My brother is one of them, but there are few others. A few of the others are friends of my brother who passed away. A few are friends from my salad days as a golf pro. Few are current or recent.
Losing friends like this makes me wonder – were they ever really friends? Further, I wondered, what is a friend? I think I have figured out what a friend is and it explains why I lose them.
A friend is someone who accepts you warts and all. A friend understands that you are a psychopath and teases you about it. A friend drinks beers with you, listens to your rants and loves you tomorrow. A friend is there for you.
That being said, it is important to examine the costs of being a friend. You have to listen to your asshole buddy rant and tell him he is right. You have to listen to your asshole buddy rant about his girlfriend being a bitch, even when she isn’t. You have to listen to your asshole buddy rant about his insane parents, even when they aren’t.
In short, you have to be a friend. Some of my acquaintances aren’t willing or able to do the friend thang. Does that make me think less of them? Yes. Do I understand it? Yes. Do I hold it against them? Yes.
Eventually, one has to recognize that one is alone at sea in this world of ours and that it is up to you to make things work. My friends are not my friends. No one is going to pay my mortgage, no one is going to tell my boss she is a bitch, even if she is. No one is going to say, “hey, that ain’t right.” Why? Because they all have a mortgage, they all have their own issues to protect and I am not one of those issues, so, you are on your own.
Deal with it!

Spike

Eve of Monumental Change

2008-11-04T18:05:00.000-08:00

I’m resigned to the fact that Obama will be the President Elect of The United States of America by the time I wake up tomorrow and that’s not such a bad thing. American taxpayers have been robbed for the last 100 years by the politicians in Washington, so is anything really going to change? So the Chief Executive has a different hue to his complexion, what’s the big deal?

I’m resigned to the fact that America will continue to hurtle headlong into a two class society. I’m resigned to the fact that we will continue to bail out big business, to enrich powerful people and interest groups, to be addicted to the teat of fossil fuels and to be personally impotent to do anything about it. While we are a great country, we will continue to be a dysfunctional socialist republic dressed up in our democratic façade.

Change is the only constant in life. Learning to accept change and find a way to thrive in a brave new world is a survival skill and those who believe in Darwinism should accept the challenge. Those who don’t should remove themselves from the gene pool.

I have a feeling that last statement will haunt me...maybe when I am homeless because my house is worthless and I chose to walk away, because my government has no money to bail me out because I am much further down the food chain than AIG and GM, maybe then I will rue that line.

Of course, I may just pursue the Native American resolution to worthless members of society...half a sandwich and a walk in the woods...?

Anyway, I’ll keep working, keep writing, keep paying taxes. Keep on keeping on!

Spike

Election Rant

2008-10-10T18:36:00.000-07:00

I just finished singing “Row row row your boat” to my son for about an hour, trying to get him to sleep. It worked, but it was a bit onerous - unless one considers their responsibilities to progeny, then it seems a small issue. I reflected on what I was doing before my son was born.

I recently reviewed a journal entry from four years ago. It’s amazing how much things change in four years -at least that is what I thought until I read an item in a rhetorical e-mail about McCain. It asked what you were doing on September 11th, 2002 and what you had done up until last week. That was how long McCain was a POW. The impetus was to get you to vote for McCain based on his strength of character for having survived that long as a Prisoner of War. While I have tremendous respect for McCain, I don’t think this is an election issue.

I think, hold on, this is earth shattering, that the economy might be a little bit important right now. I was never a big Clinton fan, and have no facts to back it up, but it seems like we were doing pretty well economically under Bill. Maybe we need to lay off being the world cop and tend to business at home. I know we are spending a tremendous amount of money to protect and develop democracies around the world, but don’t we need to TCB at home a little bit? You can bring a horse to water, but...

Many would argue that Mr. Clinton benefited from Senior’s policies, that there is a lag in the economy and that Bill reaped what Senior had sewed. Those pundits would further assert that W is now reaping the seeds that Bill sewed. Lewinsky jokes aside, this argument is fallacious due to Senior’s tenure only lasting four years. To extend the metaphor, W is reaping what W sewed based on eight years in office, just as Bill reaped what he sewed based on eight years in office.

One of the questions the voting public needs to ask itself is, “Is McCain that much different than W? Is Obama that much different than Bill?” Ultimately, I predict Obama will be our next president. I am not sure if that is good or bad. I think that only four years of his leadership will provide accurate insight. By then, we might all be congratulating ourselves on a great choice, or rallying behind the next great hope for democracy. Only time will tell.

Until then, I will keep investing in the market - after all, it’s got nowhere to go but up - and praying for an administration that makes the world better for my kids. Ultimately, that is everyone’s goal and we should recognize that we live in a country that allows us to pick our leaders. No matter how flawed the process may be - think hanging chads - it is the most democratic process in the world today.

Peace.

Spike

Raymour and Flanigan/Wells Fargo

2008-09-29T18:27:00.000-07:00

I need to be careful here, it’s a slippery slope that I am treading, but I wanted to give everyone a heads up with just facts. We bought some furniture on a no interest situation from the above named purveyor. Raymour and Flanigan sells their loans to Wells Fargo, as I understand it. I only found this out because I have been a few days late paying on at least two occasions. The Wells Fargo collections department is abusive, harassing and unprofessional, in my opinion. Let me tell you why, and then you judge.

I made a payment on 9-26 that was overdue, but the payment was for two months. On Sunday at dinner time, I got the call. I told him I had made a payment, but he insisted I tell him how much and when. I explained I was dining with my kids, was on a long distance call, and that he would be paid. He again insisted I tell him how much I had paid. I honestly didn’t know since my wife pays the bills and we pay them online. Apparently this wasn’t satisfactory as I received another call on Monday at 8:15 PM while I was trying to put my daughter to bed.

This time it was Don. I explained to Don that I was singing a song to my daughter and that I hat explained to the previously caller that a payment had been made. Don did not care; he wanted to know how much had been paid. I asked Don to speak to a Supervisor and he told me none were available. I hung up, sang my daughter to sleep and called back.

I immediately asked for a Supervisor and I got Craig. He was wheezy, stuffy and obnoxious; explaining to me that I had control of the phone calls, all I needed to do was pay my bill. I again explained that I had paid my bill, and he insisted on knowing how much I had paid. He threatened me that the calls would continue until I was willing to share what I had paid. I asked him to analyze my account for the likelihood of default - $5000 borrowed, balance of $3200, regular payments. He told me that he saw I had two purchases of $500 on a particular date. I promptly offered to pay them off. Then he told me my payoff was over $3000. I asked him how this number differed from his statement of “two purchases of $500.” Was he lying or did he not have the information?

Craig became more aggressive at this point, talking over me and accusing me of not paying my bills. I think I might never pay them again. My credit is bulletproof; I own my home and pay cash for everything now. Let him come and get the couches.

Asshole!

Bottom line – don’t ever do business with either Raymour and Flanigan or Wells Fargo!

Spike

Making a Living

2008-09-23T20:05:00.000-07:00

As glamorous as writing is for some, the reality is that we are only as good as our last sentence is and we are always striving to improve that last sentence. The majority of writers do not have the luxury of agonizing over that sentence and turning it inside out two or three times - we need to make a living. Whether that living is writing, selling, teaching, healing or accounting, we all have to pay the bills. I am no different.

So, I have a day job, which is really an all day job, but it is cool because it is a cool job, one that lets me be a dad, lets me be a writer, and lets me be me. I realize that this is a blessing, that most do not have the gig that I have. This gig comes with sacrifices, but none are important enough to stress over, so I don’t.

Name the writers you admire, and then list the jobs they held before becoming successful at writing. Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Roth, Grisham and many others come to mind. They all had gigs before fame. If you want to write, realize it is a lonely pursuit.

I am reading a new book that I find fascinating. It is a book on craft and mythological structure. It is motivating me to go back and finish my YA novel that is lonely, disowned and weeping on my hard drive, begging me to pay attention. “Spike, please love me, please complete me, I am worthy.” And it is. I wrote it as part of my MA Thesis and it’s okay. It needs polishing and finishing, but I am in love with it, especially because I have interest from publishers and it is ripe for a prequel and a sequel, cha ching.

See, now I have bad karma because I mentioned money. I have been sentenced to two more years of obscurity. Whatever. I can deal.

So, that’s my deal Neal.

Shallow Thoughts

2008-09-10T19:56:00.000-07:00

By the anti Jack Handy. I did watch the Republican National Convention and came away with the feeling that McCain actually as a sense of humor, albeit twisted. His choice of Palin as a running mate has forced us all to confront our xenophobic tendencies; a black President or a woman Vice President. How prejudiced are you?

I am admittedly Republican with respect to fiscal issues, but moderate in social issues. I have problems reconciling my fiscal conservativeness with my social desire to improve the quality of life of all. I am not sure who will get my vote, if I vote. I feel if I vote, that candidate has my mandate and that mandate precludes my criticism of their actions - is that naïve or just stoopid?

My writing has been limited to modeling for my students. I was a bit envious to find out my publisher is now going to print and my two shorts probably won’t be a part of the first printing due to their length. I’ve always dreamed of being in print, and it may happen yet, but not this time around.

On the upside, I have gotten into the flow at the new venue and am really loving it. Smart kids, supportive administration – it’s all good.

See ya soon!

Spike!

Who You Gonna Vote For?

2008-08-26T20:07:00.000-07:00

So I caught two minutes of the DNC tonight and just about puked – wait, wait, wait before the RNC, ‘cause I will have similar bilious responses.

I saw Hillary, is it Rodham or isn’t it, Clinton’s introduction narrated by Chelsea Clinton, a Stanford graduate – is that true? What happened to the ‘hood in Paly?

First of all, props to Christopher Titus who pimped me with the “wait, wait, wait” mantra, and I think it is brilliant, and I should take his advice...I’m a little disgusted and should “wait, wait, wait” before I write. But, I have never been one to take advice, and I write under a pseudonym, so, wtf?

First, what the f**k is her name? Is it Hillary Clinton or Hillary Rodham Clinton? It always changes. It was Rodham until it effected Bill’s election, then it wasn’t, then he was elected, and it was Rodham again, until he ran again, then it wasn’t, then it was, then it wasn’t. I guess it’s Rodham unless it’s electoral, then it isn’t.

Second, are we really that interested in someone who is willing to stand by a man who “never had sex with that woman.” I like his definition of sex, maybe it would be valuable in defining our relationships with Israel and Iraq?

But, to use your daughter, who clearly shuns the public, to announce that you have shattered the glass ceiling, by ignoring your husband’s clear infidelities, to further your power grubbing desires, is there no shame?

Well, I see the apocalypse coming. McCain will now use his prostitute to proclaim he is a good man, “he always tipped me well.” Biden will claim to have tipped his hooker better than McCain. McCain will then claim to have stood by his wife while she was double penetrated by Democratic insiders, to which Obama will claim to have watched his wife have sex with sheep.

Where does it stop? Pick a name, stick to it, leave your kids out of it. I know this is a ridiculous rant – it’s called satire. If you hate it, call Senator Clinton, but leave me out of it. Sorry, call Senator Rodham Clinton...or is it just Senator Rodham now? Well, call Chelsea’s mom, wtf?

But don’t call Stanford – and don’t send your kids there – they might end up condoning shtuff you don’t want them to, like Chelsea. Too much liberal thought does not make Chelsea a smart girl.

Tardy.

Spike

Travels and Travails

2008-07-21T18:22:00.000-07:00

I just got back from the Pocono’s (no I didn’t pick my nose) and am off to Cali for a few weeks. My family has a place in the mountains of Northern California that I have visited since I was born and it feels like home to me. I have a lot of friends that I met as a young child who return every summer, now with their own children, and I am looking forward to seeing them again. There is a small river that runs through the development and my kids will have a ball splashing in it, catching crawdads and building sandcastles.

They say you can never go home, but this place seems to be the exception. It never changes. My dad calls it a trailer park, but it really isn’t. Towering Redwoods, Douglas Firs, the dank and verdant smell of a river valley close by the Pacific Ocean; all contribute to a sensory experience that is overwhelmingly welcoming.

I will be a little silent, dial up is my only option, but don’t take it personally. I’ll return fresh, philosophical and less frenetic.

Peace!

Spike

Summer Update

2008-07-14T11:02:00.000-07:00

Who doesn’t believe in karma? My son has ear tubes and his language has blossomed; my mother recovered fine, and I found employment in a better district for more money.

Unfortunately, I had to buy a new liner for my pool and my fridge and washer gave up the proverbial ghost. Of course, this happens after I have booked vacation travel arrangements. Needless to say, finances should be interesting this summer.

It is what it is.

Spike

Changes

2008-05-06T20:37:00.000-07:00

Things just seem to be blowing up for me. My mom is in the early stages of pneumonia, my son needs surgery to insert ear tubes, I need to complete a video for my teaching certificate, I am in massive debt and shit just blew up for me in my job so I am looking for a new one.

Can’t a guy catch a break?

I did tonight. I went upstairs to check the temperature in my kids’ rooms and to shut windows as needed. My daughter was in her bed, hugging the ubiquitous pink bunny named Bunny, sleeping like an angel. I shut her window and kissed her forehead. As I did, I was overcome with emotion. She is a pistol, averaging four goals a game in soccer, kicking butt in karate and giving her pre-k teachers a run for their money by throwing some monumental temper tantrums, but to see her asleep is to see the face of God!

Next was my son’s room. He was in his new big boy bed, butt up in the air and breathing contentedly. He has had seven or eight ear infections since September and his speech ain’t right because of it, but he is a peach, one of the sweetest little boys you will ever find. I took him to the Pediatrician today and to the ENT tonight and he made many new friends. He has such a sweet disposition that he collects adults like I collect bad habits.

I just pray that my transgressions aren’t visited upon my kids, although in several ways that has already happened. I always thought that being a parent would make me a better person, but it doesn’t; it just makes you more compliant, which sometimes means compromising your morals and values. You become more compliant so that you can provide for your kids. I know from doing the opposite; I wasn’t compliant, I spoke my opinion and held strong to my beliefs and now I am out of a job. C’est la vie.

Don’t get me wrong, I made mistakes. However, my transgressions did not warrant the treatment I received. Luckily, as a teacher, I am employed through June and paid through August, so I have a few months to make a soft landing. I feel more blessed than persecuted and eventually, this was the right move for me – I just wish I had a little more control over the situation. The moral is, if you work with snakes, know you will get bitten and have a plan. My plan wasn’t in place before I reached into the snake pit and now I am scrambling.

So Pilgrims, keep writing, be true to what you believe, but always be prepared because luck is when preparation meets opportunity.

Peace!

Spike

A Slice of Life

2008-04-10T20:23:00.000-07:00

Well, I am thrilled that my second book is now out and available from Red Rose Publishing, www.RedRosePublishing.com. It should soon be available from all of the usual suspects, FictionWise, MobiPocket, Amazon, Crescent and Diesel. I just wish I had time to publicize and market it! I am so busy with the day job, the kids, the second job, that I just cannot find the time to promote it. So, do me a favor and help me out – tell your friends about it.

Hopefully it will get reviewed in the next six months, which is how long it took for “Pickup Lines From a Pickup Truck” to get reviewed, but hey, I am not on the top of the food chain...but if I was...well, I will leave that for another post.

For now, just know that I am inordinately busy with the daily detritus of demeaning demands of employment, parenting and paying the bills.

Spike

Ambiguity

2008-03-28T21:06:00.000-07:00

It is a concept that defines and clarifies without being specific. One of my interests is New Criticism which is a critical analysis of literature based on its organic unity as demonstrated by the use of ambiguity and the intentional fallacy. It is interesting that Romanticism is also concerned with ambiguity, primarily the moral ambiguity of man and a focus on the beauty of nature as opposed to the imposed beauty of neo-classicism.

I guess beauty is where you find it. Beauty can be the perfectly constructed sentence and, it can be the appreciation of a perfectly formed Rose. These concepts have been exhaustively explored by philosophers much smarter than I and so I won’t be so presumptuous to attempt a philosophical enquiry, but I will give my take.

Beauty is selling a book, novel or short. Beauty is going through the process; submitting, editing and cover art. Beauty is seeing the process coalesce into a product for sale. For me, beauty is seeing my book for sale.

Don’t confuse my enamoration with seeing my book for sale with the joy and pleasure I get from seeing my child score a goal or seeing my child smile and laugh. It’s a narrow application of the concept of the sublime. My book for sale at www.RedRosePublishing.com is sublime. Watching my child smile or laugh is sublime.

Webster’s describes sublime as “supreme or outstanding.” I think all of the above qualifies, as does having you read my blog. Therefore, since I have a second book being published, I have kids scoring goals and you are reading my blog, I am living the sublime life.

Peace.

Reflections of a Green Monday

2008-03-19T16:30:00.001-07:00

St. Paddy’s day has always fascinated me. I have memories of quaffing pints of green beer and gluttonous consumption of corned beef and cabbage. My heritage is Saxon, but on St. Paddy’s, everyone is Irish. I worked on Monday so I wasn’t able to engage in the festivities. My brother in law goes into the city every year for the parade and I am jealous. I have only lived in New York for a few years and I have yet to make the pilgrimage for drunken debauchery – my bad.

I have had a bit of an epiphany of late. I don’t want to jinx it by speaking about it yet, but I am more motivated, more inspired, more energetic and more committed than I have been in years. I feel as if a dark cloud has been lifted and the jovial visage of jocund day is smiling at me. The timing is fortuitous – I have a new book coming out soon, March 27th to be exact – and things at work are reaching critical mass requiring an inordinate amount of my time and energy. C’est la vie.

Not much else is going on right now.

Peace!

Spike

Writer’s Remorse

2008-03-11T20:09:00.000-07:00

The new book will be released on the 27th. It’s called “A Slice of Life.” It’s a tightly written mystery, about 36 pages, in the vein of Mike Shane mystery mags.

I like this book very much. I think it is tight. I liked my editor and I think we did a good job. I penciled a drawing for the cover and Shirley Burnett brought it to life, made it sing!

So, if you liked “Pickup Lines From A Pickup Truck,” or you like my blog, you should buy “A Slice of Life.”

It’s available at www.RedRosePublishing.com in pdf and msn reader, will be available soon at Crescent, MobiPocket, Amazon in Kindle, Diesel, etc…

I am working on the next but am a little hamstrung. It will happen.

Spike

One for My Homey

2008-03-03T21:24:00.000-08:00

My brother Jon had a birthday on Saturday. Unfortunately he wasn’t here to enjoy it. He checked out on me in 2001 at the ripe old age of 39.

Murph, I miss you terribly!

Spike

Internet Approbation

2008-02-28T15:08:00.000-08:00

Finally someone has recognized my brilliance publicly (Cara Preston too). A romance website reviewed “Pickup Lines From a Pickup Truck” written by Cara Preston and me. The reviewer gave it four hearts. I am told that it is a reputable site and four hearts is indeed an accomplishment. She wrote, “This reviewer would definitely recommend this for a very quick yet satisfying read with humor, wit and romance!”

I’m thrilled. The review can be found at http://www.loveromancesandmore.com/reviews/0208/pickuplines_mandie.htm

In other news, a cover is forthcoming for “A Slice of Life,” my second release with Red Rose Publishing. I’ve spoken to the cover artist with a few ideas and she is working on it now. Hopefully I’ll have something back in a week or so and then it will get in the queue to be published.

All for now.

Spike

Rat Reflections

2008-02-19T20:25:00.000-08:00

I flew to Florida on Saturday and boy, are my arms tired. Actually, I am tired. We rocked at the Tragic Kingdom on Sunday and Hollywood Studios on Monday during the day, then went back to Tragic Kingdom in the afternoon. We killed my kids, they were totally worn out. It has been an adventure.

Saturday morning we took a cab to the airport. The driver was suffering from the DT’s and kept having seizures that affected gas and brake and I think he was suffering from the cold as he cranked hot air for the trip while rambling on about his experiences as a PGA caddie. I guess all the jerking and hot air got to my 20 month old because as we pulled up to the airport, my son did a great Linda Blair impersonation and vomited in a projectile manner - sour milk and Mandarin oranges all over himself, his clothes, car seat and cab.

Picture this: Mom changing a 20 month old on the curb in front of SkyCap counter in 20 degress, he’s shivering with blue lips, there’s three large bags, two car seats, two strollers and a diaper bag strewn on the curb and dad trying to check in. I use diaper wipes as best I can to clean the car seat, bag and check it. We head for the gate. I notice we are not seated together, so I head for the gate agent, who is busy seating his boyfriend. I am standing at the counter with my rank smelling son while my wife takes my daughter to the bathroom. He ignores me and leaves. He comes back and without acknowledging me, gets on the phone, then the radio, then leaves again. When he returns on other business, I ask him if he is going to help me. He tells me to wait, in spite of the fact that I have been waiting for 20 minutes.

I explain that we are two adults traveling with two young children, one ticketed, one not, and that it would be best if we were seated together. He informs me that the flight is oversold and there are no available seats. I asked if the flight was oversold six months ago when I bought the tickets and he asked if we reserved seats together. I said I thought we did and he told me that they charge extra for that.

Are you kidding me? Charge extra to sit together? Welcome to AirTran Airlines.

We get to Orlando, get our luggage and realize, based on the stench, that we will not be able to ever use that car seat again - trash it and rent one with our car for $80 for the week, almost twice the price of a booster seat, but, what are we going to do.

Check in, all is cool, then a day at the park - my son has diarrhea, a lot of it, it spills out of his diaper and on me as he is sitting on me. Are you kidding me? I just spent almost $300 to get us into the park and now I have to take a bus back to the hotel while schlepping a stroller and my kid because we reek.

So:

Vomit - Free
Three nights at Disney - $650
Park Admission - $225
Two Tacos - $9.95
Souvenirs - $100
Ice cold beer - Priceless

Now I am in New Smyrna hanging with friends. I might play golf tomorrow, pretty sure we haven’t filed bankruptcy yet. The weather is here, I wish I was beautiful.

Now What?

2008-02-13T22:28:00.000-08:00

Now What?

It’s an interesting question that needs to be addressed on several fronts for me, “Now What?”

Yes..now what?

Book two is forthcoming, I know I have been saying that for months and both of you are anxiously waiting, but really, now what? My writing career isn’t exactly rocketing into the stratosphere, so now what.

Well, I really expected both of you to tell two friends, who would tell two friends, who would tell two friends, but, it didn’t happen, so you let me down.

Truthfully, I never expected any of that to happen. I expected to sell five copies and to blog to make myself happy and that is what has happened. Some people read it, some comment, some buy my book. It is what it is.

So I continue to teach, I continue to not write, because after all, what does a writer do but rebel and not write, and I continue to believe that I can write, although I never write. I think about writing all the time, but, I never write. I think that makes me a writer, no?

So, if you are a fan of me not writing, let me know. If you are a fan of me writing, tell me to write so that I feel good about not writing. I will continue to not write so that I can make my fans of my not writing happy, because after all, it is all about not writing, right?

Spike

I am a Bad Man/Writer

2008-02-03T20:55:00.000-08:00

I have ignored any opportunity to promote my writing, and there are many. There are loops and talks and other options, and I have ignored them. I have ignored them not because I am evil, but because I have other issues.

So...so...does that make me bad? I think not. I would love to connect, to have contact, but, hitting the loop, checking the loop, it is all too much for me with a day job and two kids, so, my sales suffer.

But...but, it is more important to me to hang with my kids than to sell books. I guess I screwed up when I thought I could just write and readers would come – shame on me.

So, my apologies for not supporting my books.

Spike

Nothing Written, Nothing Gained

2008-01-29T21:09:00.000-08:00

Truer words were never spoken. So, what have I been doing with my own bad self? Not much. I have been focused on planning for my classes and deciding what to do with my life – after all, there is nothing like a shiftless middle aged English Teacher to repulse and repel fans, right?

My friend has been acting, see www.Tonkin.com to watch his commercial – he’s the dude with the loose tie. Just scroll down until his mug appears and then click on it. We went to college together.

You can also see him at www.youtube.com, type in No Red Ribbons.

My new one is coming out, but I have lost the love. I think it will be out at www.RedRosePublishing.com on February 27th, but I am not sure. I like this book, but promoting books is like ...is like...is like...insert simile here. It’s a Roman adventure, sometimes you lose and need to die like a Roman.

Other times, you win. When you win, you get to die like Caesar. Great choices, huh?

I heard a report today that claimed depression is at it’s most dire when men hit 44. Life satisfaction can be charted as a U. Youth rates high satisfaction, as does old age, but at the bottom of the U, the depth of depression, it bottoms out at 44.

Nice to know. Now what?

So, I am melancholy at best. Cheer me up. SpikeFremont@aol.com

Holiday Hangover

2008-01-03T15:43:00.000-08:00

I have been subjected to a nasty hangover of holiday spirit and a more malicious malady; a not so infectious disease, known to afflict part time writers in particular; lack of commitment. I prefer to think of it as other responsibilities, but the truth is that it is a failure on the sufferer’s part to make time to write – anything – blogs, journal entries, notes, letters, e-mails; the affliction isn’t very discriminatory and exercises a scorched earth policy when it is allowed to fester, as mine has.

The afflicted is naturally more critical of the lack of performance – writers tend to be more introspective than others, and therefore hypercritical, especially when applying criticism reflexively. It doesn’t help to go on a voyeuristic literary binge, that is, a reading jag, like I have. I’ve been motivated by others, by vocation, and by a selfish desire precipitated by excessive idle time, also known as the devil’s tools.

With all of the aforementioned conspiring to create the perfect storm, I took a break and read. What did I read? Well, I’ll tell you. It started with Almost Moon by Alice Sebold, then it was Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen, Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini, The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho, Out of Sight by Elmore Leonard, Atonement by Ian McEwan, a rare foray into nonfiction with The School of Great Expectations by Dan Brown, no, not that Dan Brown, and culminating with my current crutch, Julius Winsome by Gerard Donovan, given to me by a friend who might become a former friend based on the path of the novel – I like it, but it is twisted. So, that is how I spent the last two weeks.

The result is a conflicted writer not willing to call himself a writer based on the overwhelming talent he has recently exposed himself to. I live to write about myself in the third person, I sound so...stoopid.

“Pickup Lines From a Pickup Truck” is doing well, it was on the Bestseller list for RedRosePublishing.com in November and is still available. “A Slice of Life” is coming soon, but no firm release date yet – there may be some issues with cover art, but the editing is done. And I continue on my merry way, reading and not writing. I think I may need to change that.

Do you agree?

Dilettante or Thug?

2007-12-17T19:11:00.000-08:00

Webster defines the first as a “dabbler in the arts,” the second as “a gangster or tough.” Is it possible for both to describe the same person? Am I or am I? I have always struggled with the contradictions in my nature, the seeming walking contradiction of my personality, partly truth and partly fiction.

As previously written, I relish physical contact, in many ways, and do not shy away from physical confrontation. I also love musical theater, my favorite being “Les Miserables,” mainly because I saw it from a seat in “the stalls” in the West End of London with my brother. I wore cleats to play baseball and football in high school, but I also wore loafers to see “The King and I” at the Memorial Auditorium. Why is there this dichotomy in my personality and where did it come from?

Conflict is a key ingredient in any narrative; it makes the story interesting, contributing to tension that ultimately results in climax. Internal conflict is something we live with everyday. As a writer, my inner conflict is whether to write what I want or what sells. Lately I have been writing romance; because it is fun, because I am able to get published and because I learn from it. Anyone who has read my dreck knows it is tame, but, I am tempted to write more graphically.

I guess, while sitting here pondering my writer’s navel, my concern is whether I should be more graphic in my efforts at romance. Should I maintain my dilettante’s detachment or embrace my inner thug and write graphically? Hmmm, what do you think? Either of you, feel free to answer.

Spike

Conflict and Conflagration

2007-12-13T19:01:00.000-08:00

Have you ever had the urge to blow shit up? To exercise a scorched earth policy? To bring to bear upon others the types of hardship that have been brought to bear on you? I know I have felt that way, and I have acted on it. My actions have been detrimental to my well being.

There was this punk giving my best friend a hard time, so I confronted him. Things got nasty, so I popped him. He and three hundred of his closest friends visited my friend’s house. We called the cops. I got expelled. That was in seventh grade.

This is not an isolated incident in my life. I am the baby of three boys. My older brother was 18 months older and my oldest is 39 months older. I got beat almost everyday of my pre-adolescent existence. I learned to hit first, explain later. This became a problem.

In high school, this behavior was unwelcome, mainly because I went to a Christian school with sons and daughters of pastors who had never gone to a public school. I was a wolf among sheep, and we all know what happens when a wolf gets together with sheep. Bad things!

So now, how do I explain to my daughter that it is unacceptable to hit, to choke, to spit in someone’s face? If I do condemn this behavior in my daughter, does that make me a hypocrite?

Why is it when my daughter’s teacher tells me about my daughter’s transgressions, I laugh? Why do I find it endearing that my daughter is a thug? Why do my colleagues find this entertaining?

How do I explain to a four year old that it isn’t cool to throw down with classmates when I did the same? “Do as I say, not as I did.” But really, I want her to stand up for herself, but not be a bully. How do I teach that?

“It’s okay to hit when a teacher doesn’t respond and the kid keeps pushing you.” Yeah, a four year old is going to understand that.

I wish my life was about snack time and nap time, about arts and crafts, about letters and numbers. It would be so much easier. Remind me to ask my daughter when she is my age if she feels the same way.

Meanwhile, I have to deal with the bullys and thugs of education. Those who want to bully me as a teacher, to force me to do things that I don’t want to do. Things I don’t want to do because I know they are detrimental to my students; they are just bad practice. But, I have to tell the teacher. I can’t spit in their face, I can’t choke them. My daughter can choke and spit on the bad guys, but I can’t. How can I teach her not to when I want to?

Spike

Die Now

2007-12-04T18:52:00.000-08:00

I have heard that the Greeks would yell “Die Now” to winners of races and events because the competitor had reached the apex of their life and everything following that victory would be shallow and meaningless. When I heard this, it reminded me of my friends that had peaked in grade school, middle school and high school. I always took this to be a cautionary lesson on success. I felt it was best not to peak until later in life. I seem to have mastered that, until today.

I logged on to RedRosePublishing.com and found the compendium of vignettes that I coauthored with Cara Preston, better known as “Pickup Lines From a Pickup Truck,” listed as the tenth best seller in the Mainstream category of my publisher.

Should I die now? Is this the acme of my career? Is the rest of my life to be spent in speakeasy’s and dives, me assuring an aged audience of a toothless entourage that in 2007 I was on the bestseller list of an internet publisher’s list of mainstream romances?

While I love my publisher and believe internet publishing and ebooks are the future of the industry, I refuse to believe that this is my “die now” moment. I just hope that I am still lucid enough to recognize whether it is or isn’t. It would be a tragedy for me to find out that as a seventy year old, after winning a volleyball tournament for diabetic amputees, that this was my moment, and I fucking missed it.

Let’s hope and pray that I haven’t peaked yet!

Spike

My Second Time

2007-11-27T18:17:00.000-08:00

I am going through the final line edits for my second book to be published by RedRosePublishing.com and am finding it somewhat less exciting than the first time. That is, I surmise, to be expected. It may also be a function of my editor being different from my first story, and from the first round of edits on this book.

I think it is silly to be attached to an editor. I am attached to an editor. Therefore, I am silly. That is a syllogism.

Why is it important for me to know this stupid stuff? Mainly because I encounter smart kids everyday that want to know it too, that will need to know it at some point. So, what now? New editor, wants to make a few changes, whatever. Go with the flow. I think the new editor is probably good, probably different, probably smart. But, it mucks things up for me. Feel free to substitute an “f” for an “m” in the previous sentence.

Here is my shiznit. Show it to me in the final draft! I keep getting it with changes tracked and I get confused, I am a simple man. Simple is as simple does.

I feel a need to travel! Anyone want to host a writer/teacher in Latin America or Europe? Let me know, free books are available.

It is never the same as the first!

Spike

The Inexorable Grind

2007-11-19T15:14:00.000-08:00

“Pickup Lines From a Pickup Truck” has now been on the proverbial shelf for almost three weeks and I have begun the inexorable grind towards anonymity. I wonder if the other authors at RedRosePublishing.com experience the same phenomenon; if Raven Star, Shara Azod, Skyler Gray or Jae-Lynn McKnight are struggling with their next projects?

Hell, for that matter, did John Grisham feel this way after “The Firm.” I remember reading that Grisham followed up “The Firm” by writing “The Pelican Brief” in six weeks. Granted, it wasn’t the best novel he wrote, but he did sell the movie rights. I wouldn’t mind that type of follow up.

But, it would appear that my window of opportunity is slowly closing. I doubt I can afford to wait a decade between books like Donna Tartt or David Duncan. I do have another coming soon, “A Slice of Life,” but after that, the Romance pipeline is empty. I have started two other short Romances, but have all but abandoned them at this point. I lack the discipline to write regularly and that is a product of having a full time job and young children. I also have a young adult novel and a memoir in the works, but all of my writing projects are being neglected currently. I doubt that admission is going to fire up my readership, but, that constituency is pretty small at present.

The nice thing about writing short stories, Romance or otherwise, is that the time required to complete a project is relatively short. This allows people with other obligations, like me, and people with short attention spans, like me, the opportunity to complete projects and submit them for publication. Once the demands on my time slacken, I feel confident in my ability to devote more time to writing. In the meantime, I will continue to explore writing opportunities and to read.

My current reading list includes Michael Chabon and Kurt Vonnegut. I have been a fan of Chabon’s for almost ten years, but Vonnegut is a new addition for me. I read “Slaughterhouse Five” about a month ago and am currently reading “Welcome to the Monkey House.” It’s a collection of short stories. Both of these authors intimidate me. If I wasn’t aware of the wide variety of readers, I may actually quit writing when considering their prodigious talent. Of course, I feel the same way about a lot of writers.

In spite of the intimidation factor, I am going to work hard to reverse the inexorable grind towards anonymity; I am going to work hard on the next project; I am going to work hard to continue writing. I hope you continue reading.

Spike

Oops, I forgot!

2007-11-08T19:16:00.000-08:00

It has come to my attention that I have not been actively promoting my book, which was the main reason I started this Blog in the first place.

Oops, my bad.

I started writing about fifteen years ago, not for publication, just for shits and grins. I read Mike Shayne, Alfred Hitchcock and Ellery Queen magazines as a kid. I always read the shortest stories first because my attention span was short. But, by the end of the month, I had read all the stories but the novelette, which was 25-45 pages long. I reluctantly read it because the next magazine wasn’t due for a week or two and inevitably, I had read the mag cover to cover before the new one came.

These experiences motivated me to write “Pickup Lines from a Pickup Truck” and “A Slice of Life,” and the unfinished novel and the unfinished memoir. They have informed my writing style, my choice of subject matter and ultimately, who I am as a writer –whoever that may be, it is still a work in progress.

As part of that work in progress, I would welcome any comments from readers. I write for myself, but part of my motivation is to make readers happy. So, please, buy my books at WWW.RedRosePublishing.com and let me know what you think. I am Spike_Fremont@yahoo.com.

Peace!

Spike

Fits and Starts

2007-11-05T18:50:00.000-08:00

I was a little bit excited to start my new short story, had it all mapped out with character sketches and a plot outline. I started it three days ago. And now it is flotsam, awash in the milieu that is my life, forgotten and forlorn as I attend to more pressing needs.

This is just one example of how writing takes a back seat to life, often by necessity. I really don’t have a choice. I cannot tell my employer to hold a deadline while I take a few days off to finish a story. Nor can I tell my kids to go chillax while daddy writes. Some things are more pressing than others and writing gets kicked to the back burner, to simmer, to burn or to turn to mush while life’s demands occupy your attention.

The key for me is to have that story calling to me every day...Spike, come bring us to life, make us dance, give us something to do. Of course, I have several projects talking to me and the squeakiest wheel will get my attention. Whether it is the novel, the memoir, the journal, the Blog or the short story that gets my attention depends entirely on which story is calling the loudest and most stridently. More often than not, the most strident voice is that of life’s responsibilities and the stories will have to wait.

As long as they keep calling me, insistently and with commitment, they will get attention from me, they will get written, they will get brought to life.

Spike

Post Release Stress Syndrome

2007-11-02T08:01:00.000-07:00

So the chat last night was fun. We had about 15-20 people total, not all at the same time. Now the hard part starts – promoting. I don’t think EBooks sell a lot, maybe 100 is a big number, but it seems like free advertising to me, an opportunity to promote myself and develop some sort of presence. We’ll see what happens.

It’s Friday and I am looking forward to the weekend! I have a few things to do around the house, but I want to get started on my next project. I am going to write another romance. I have characters in mind and a semblance of plot, but I need to flesh it out and get writing. I am anxious to apply all the things I have learned from going through this process.

I also need to get with Rene on cover art for “A Slice of Life.” We finished the editing – just need final line edits, then cover art and then it is ready. It may go November 15th, but more likely December 1st.

Keep writing.

Spike

The Big Release

2007-11-01T05:49:00.000-07:00

The day is finally here. “Pickup Lines from a Pickup Truck” is on the front page of www.RedRosePublishing.com and available for purchase at $1.99. How cool is that? The whole process of writing to release has spanned about nine months, which is probably a pretty short cycle in the publishing industry, but seemed like forever to me.

I have finished the second round of edits on “A Slice of Life.” I have to do the dedication and then work with Rene on the cover art. I have no excuse now and need to get started on the next project, which I think will be another short story.

Spike

Two Days to Release

2007-10-30T19:27:00.000-07:00

The cover for the book that Cara Preston and I wrote is on the coming soon page for Red Rose Publishing – that is pretty exciting. It is mislabeled as Erotic Romance, but, small issues for small minds.

I spoke with Cara tonight – we are both excited about the release, and proud of the book. It was a great experience writing the book together and a lot of fun having it edited by Rene Lyons. She did a great job, and did the cover art too.

I bought the SpikeFremont.com domain recently and am working on the website. It should be up in a rudimentary fashion by Sunday. Things are fun right now.

The book by Cara and me is pretty fun. I hope you buy it.

Spike

Release Date

2007-10-29T07:30:00.000-07:00

The latest on the release date for “Pickup Lines from a Pickup Truck” is this Thursday, November 1st at www.RedRosePublishing.com. I finished the final edits recently and have seen a copy of the eBook in Adobe format – it was pretty exciting for me. It had Copyrights and ISBN numbers, which for a bibliophile like me, is pretty big. The book is only $1.99 and downloading it is hassle free – I have done it myself. I think it is sort of cute and funny and I hope you like it.

I am thinking about having a contest. My thought is to give away a copy of my next book; “A Slice of Life” which I think will be out in December. I was thinking of maybe having readers tell me their favorite part of “Pickup Lines from a Pickup Truck” and then choosing a winner from the responses. If anyone has any ideas, feel free to contact me either by responding here or by sending me an email.

I hope you check out RedRosePublishing.com and consider buying “Pickup Lines From a Pickup Truck.” Let me know.

Spike

Launch Party Redux

2007-10-26T08:15:00.001-07:00

We had the launch party at Ecata Romance last night. It was pretty fun. I met a lot of people and got some great advice on promoting my books. Now I just need to keep writing and keep promoting and who knows, I might get my picture up in the Post Office when I grow up.

I signed up for National Novel Writing Month last year and they automatically signed me up this year. It’s a contest where anyone that writes 50,000 words in the month of November wins. Winners get a certificate. In the past, several winners also got print publishing contracts. I am considering trying it again this year but I am not sure if it is the best use of my time right now.

I need to find out from RedRose when my release is for “Pickup Lines from a Pickup Truck” so I can let everyone know. Several people at the launch party told me that they heard it was funny and cute, so hopefully I will sell a few copies.

Spike

Launch Party

2007-10-23T06:52:00.000-07:00

I have been through the editing process for my first book. It was enlightening. I confirmed my suspicions that I am not a good writer. It’s a bit of a conundrum – I am good enough to get published, twice, but I still need a ton of work. It confirms all the things I have learned, mainly that good writing is rewriting

RedRosePublishing.com is having a launch party on October 25th at 9:00 PM. It’s a chat format and you can go there: http://www.catanetw ork.com/chat. html. I will be there chatting up “Pickup Lines From a Pickup Truck” and “A Slice of Life.” Neither book is available yet, but I want to try to create a little buzz. “Pickup Lines From a Pickup Truck” will be available next month and “A Slice of Life” will probably be out in December.

Finding time to write is difficult. I have two young children and a full time job. I have written these two shorts, a 15,000 word memoir and 20,000 words of a young adult novel in the last three years. I wish I had more time, I feel I could write more.

My next short is conceived – character sketches and a plot summary developed. I am excited about applying the things I have learned from the publishing process and hope to write a tighter story with more developed characters this time. Writing truly is a muscle – the more you use it the more efficient it gets.

I hope to see you, both of you, at the launch party on Thursday.

Spike

Social Conscience

2007-08-09T20:44:00.000-07:00

I recently completed a graduate level course. I was shocked by the ignorance I encountered, particularly the righteousness of one of my classmates. Any graduate level class involves a great deal of discussion and give and take. Argument, after all, is a learning experience.

One classmate struck me as particularly argumentative, and, frankly, ignorant.

This classmate seemed very sure of themselves; rolling their eyes and presenting a book review in a contrived lesson that they felt was particularly effective, but wasn’t. I decided to Google this person.

I was shocked at the results. This person had a blog; the last post was in 2006. They also had a web page for their students, last updated in 2005. There was also an article where this person was quoted at an anti Bush rally.

“I am an activist for social injustice.” The quote was attributed to a person on a bike to which was attached a depiction of Bush hung in effigy. I was initially appalled at the blatant use of the propagandistic use of “us against them.” The statement implied that those that were not “activists against social injustice” were therefore activists for social injustice.

I am not an activist against social injustice, but that does not mean that I am for it. In fact, I am committed to preventing it by educating those who are subjected to it. But, the question is, if we are to hold ourselves out as examples, and I am not doing that, how committed are we if we can afford to live in Manhattan, own a bike and can afford to build an effigy to hang on the front of our bikes?

Wouldn’t it be more productive if our “activists” worked to educate the public to social injustices and identifying those? Wouldn’t it be more productive to go door to door to register voters? Wouldn’t it be more productive to work in a soup kitchen? Wouldn’t it be more productive donate our bikes?

I would warn my readers, both of you, to be wary of those who present themselves as activists. I would also admonish you to help more by giving of your time – help Habitat for Humanity, volunteer to help cook at the soup kitchen, but, remember, charity starts at home. Make sure that your kids are fed, loved and educated first!

Red Rose Launch

2007-07-25T20:24:00.000-07:00

Red Rose Publishing opens tomorrow! I'm excited about the new publisher, I want them to do well. I plan on checking in at midnight tonight and buying a book or two. I hope others will as well.

Spike

Hello!

2007-07-25T07:54:00.000-07:00

I just created this blog for a collection of vignettes that I wrote with Cara Preston. The collection is under contract with Red Rose Publishing and I needed to get a website, so, let's see how this looks!