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Tuesday, February 28, 2006

Let's create another character

We have already created Victoria, now we need to build another of the six. Who should we move on to? We could stick with the female characters. But that would be boring. Let's move on to one of the male characters, shall we? Good, I'm glad you agree. Moving on.

Let's go with Ray-zr-Edge. Our buddy Ray is 27 years old. He lives alone a very small apartment in large city. We can assume that Mr. Edge is, or at least he thinks he is, a lady's man. A real man's man. He's a thrill seeker, an adrenaline junkie. In fact, he is so addicted that he has traveled the globe in search of the rush. Free climbing, sky diving - with a snow board, helicopter snow-boarding. His iPod is his constant companion.

In spite of all his activities, he is very depressed. We're not sure if he is depressed because he uses up his seratonin or if it is for another reason. You know the answer though don't you? This guy is the loneliest person on the planet. From a very earlier age, he had difficulty relating to others.

Being isolated his entire life has shunted his ability to handle social situations. The only exception is that he can lay down a rap when his is talking to women. The primary reason for his success with women is that he is in it for the hunt. Once he has conquered the challenge, he is unable to relate to the woman in any meaningful way. He just fades back to his small, dark apartment and starts blogging.

One of his blogs is filled with his original drawings and short verse. Both convey his loneliness, but only have a hint of the true darkness he feels. Even in a creative forum he is unable to acknowledge the emptiness inside. The other blog is a very braggadocios display of photographs and descriptions of his thrill seeking adventures.

Whoa, is that a little heavy? Maybe, but that's the way I see the guy.


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Copyright (c) 2006 Paul Gavin. All rights reserved.

So I decided to email HDNet

Here is the email I sent to HDNet:

Dear Ms. McCalmont,

I have come up with a very new idea for a TV/Internet show. The working title of the show is called "Bloggers". It would be a weekly, half-hour or hour-long television show. The main character will be this 42 year-old guy that starts blogging and he joins a blog site that has an interactive area. By blogging daily, he meets 5 other characters that have nothing in common except that they are daily visitors to the blogging site. Every week, the stories are about what the characters do in their real lives contrasted with what they blog. The characters vary in accuracy of blogging what is reality and what is online persona.

Is that an interesting show? I think so, but anyone can come up with that idea. Here is the BIG part of the BIG idea.

The show producers - ideally this would be me - create the blog site for real. And the characters from the show actually blog all week, according to the show's script for the week. Here's the big hook - anyone that wants to can join the blog. Create their own blogs on the site, interact with the characters. As additional incentive for the viewers to participate, the show would incorporate one of the public bloggers into the script for the show.

Why would this be commercially viable you ask? Well, first the show would be good. HDNet could pick up all the traditional sponsors. Then you charge $5 or $10 bucks a month for the public to join the blog. Then you sell advertising space on all the blogs.

See! This is a great idea. Interactive TV, combining television and the internet, this idea has it all. It really would work. I have ideas for the first six characters. I know what the web site should look like and what features should go on there. Now all I need is to get help in producing the show.

I think this would be a very good candidate for your network, given the forward thinking of the executives at HDNet. Also, it would seem like a logical fit for the "billionaire blogger".

Regards,

Paul Gavin


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Copyright (c) 2006 Paul Gavin. All rights reserved.

Son-of-a-b*%&$

Look what this kid did.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20060228/ap_on_en_mo/myspace_the_movie

Over six million people have viewed his little movie. Now he's getting a deal from MTV. I guess I should craft an email about My BIG Idea to MTV.

This idea is a happening thing. It's huge. Mark my words, when it hits the airwaves, my My BIG Idea is going to be as big as "Survivor" was it's first year. Exactly how can I get someone to take notice? It's not like I have a bunch of spare time to actually create the pilot. Plus, it is very different to be running around with your camera with your friends when you are 17 or 18. It's cool, it's exploration. But when you are 42-years-old, it's just kinda sad.

Oh, the humanity!!!! I am half-tempted to break my promise and send another email. Nah, I won't do it. I just hope someone in Plano reads this and decides it's an idea worth exploring.


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Copyright (c) 2006 Paul Gavin. All rights reserved.

Monday, February 27, 2006

Updating Technorati Tags

Today has been the busiest day on my set of blogs since we started. I have had almost 100 visitors today. Why would I possibly have this much traffic today? Well, I decided to update the way I display my Technorati tags. That means I went through all my posts since I started updated the tags, then I republished them. Although I had a great deal of visitors, most of them were click throughs. However, a couple of people stuck around an read a few pages. That's cool.

Here's the somewhat humorous part, I am really not sure what Technorati tags are for? All I know is that the some of my posts with Technorati tags show up pretty high in Google searches. I plan on doing some more research into it. Of course, I'll let you know what I turn up.


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Copyright (c) 2006 Paul Gavin. All rights reserved.

Sunday, February 26, 2006

Here's Chapter 17

This is by far the most difficult Chapter I have written. It was really hard to get into Ass' state of mind. I tried to do my best. I'd like to know what you think of it. Is it believable? Is it true to the situation? Are Pete's remarks funny?

Additionally, it is the first Chapter that I wrote completely from scratch. I am going to try to keep up with the two chapter a week pace. But as the weather gets nicer, I have a feeling I'll be spending more time outdoors.


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Copyright (c) 2006 Paul Gavin. All rights reserved.

The Break - Chapter 17

Chapter 17

The bus was completely silent. The four men stood completely still, utterly dumbfounded. No one knew what to say or do. They began to fidget uncomfortably. No one wanted to be the first to speak. It was almost getting comical.

“So you two packing the fudge or what?” Pete asked as he looked at Ass and then at Ben.

Involuntarily, everyone burst out laughing. True to form, Pete dropped the bomb that cut through the tension.

“Ah, dude” Ronnie said shaking his head. “Immediately nuclear?”

“Well shit, dude.” Pete started to defend himself.

“It’s cool.” Ass said. “I know how weird that sounded.”

Once again, the silent tension was palatable.

“Quick, some one say something before I drop the second bomb.” Pete said.

They all laughed again.

“So…uh…how long…I mean…are you guys…” Ronnie tried.

But nothing would come out. It was perhaps the most awkward moment of his life. Then he blurted it out.

“Packing the fudge or what?”

There was an instant of shocked disbelief followed by uncontrollable roars of laugher. It was one of those moments when laughter was the only solution. The complete shock of the situation had stunned everyone. They had needed something to get them past the uncomfortable situation. On some level, they expected Pete to come up with a wisecrack. But the unexpected repetition of Pete’s crude remark from Ronnie was so unexpected that it completely snapped everyone back to life.

“Sorry, dudes.” Ronnie said apologetically when he regained composure. “I just really don’t know what to do in a situation like this.”

“It’s cool.” Ass said comfortingly. “I guess I didn’t either. Just kinda threw it out there.”

“So you wanna talk about it?” Ronnie asked.

“Not really.” Ass said. “But I think we need to.”

Suddenly chilled, Ass became aware of the wet clothes clinging to his body.

“Actually, I should probably get out of these clothes first.” He said.
Then he turned to Ben and looked into his eyes.

“Did you grab my stuff out of the room?” He asked.

“Yeah.” Ben replied.

“Thanks, dude.” Ass said in a very warm tone.

Both of them knew that the thank you was for far more than Ben looking after his stuff. The thank you was for forcing the issue and making Ass think about it.

“Do you mind a bumpy shower?” Schnieder asked. “We need to get on the road or we’ll e late for tonight’s gig.”

“I’m cool with that.” Ass said and quickly disappeared to the back of the bus.

Schnieder got up and descended the steps. Quickly, he went to work packing all the bands gear into the bus. Ronnie turned his attention to Ben. It wasn’t surprising that he hadn’t spoken, he rarely ever did. But this was different. Ronnie could tell that he had been just as shocked as the others when Ass said they were in love. At first Ronnie only thought he saw it. But as he continued to look at Ben, he knew he was right. Ben was smiling. It was a barely detectable Ben smile, but it was definitely a smile. Ronnie walked over to him and threw his arm over his shoulder.

“You all right?” He asked. “You okay talking about this.”

“Yeah, I’m cool.” Ben replied.

Schnieder packed up the bus and returned to the driver seat.

“Tell Ass to hold on, we’re moving out.” He called back to no one in particular.

Closing the door, he pressed down on the clutch and shifted the bus into gear. Soon they were on the highway headed west. The three band mates were seated in the couches installed just behind the driver seat. No one said anything. It seemed too important than to talk about anything other than the huge issue in front of them. Not even Pete could think of anything to say.

After a few uncomfortable miles, Ass rejoined the group. He sat down next to Ben and put his arm around his shoulder.

“So, where do you wanna start?” Ass started.

“Uh, I don’t know.” Pete said. “Maybe you could start with … I … dunno … What the fuck is going on with you two? – maybe.”

“Well, Pete.” Ass started. “We’re not to sure ourselves. Well…I guess that we all knew how Ben felt. But I had no idea how I felt.”

Ass paused with a very thoughtful expression.

“That’s not exactly true.” He continued. “I’ve probably known for a while but I would not allow myself to acknowledge my feelings. You know…it’s a little…uh…sorry Ben.” He said as he looked at his friend. “But it’s kinda weird to admit that you actually love another man.”

“Tell me about, Ass.” Ben said with a smirk. “Try doing it when you are thirteen.”

“Never thought of that.” Ass said.

They took a moment to exchange a knowing look.

“Hey, don’t mean to break up the moment.” Pete said. “But can we get back to what the hell is going on?”

“Yeah, sure.” Ass continued. “So this morning. Ben and I wake up like any other morning. Only today he makes fun of the master.”

“Ah the master.” Pete and Ronnie said simultaneously.

The tone of their voices made Ass wince noticeably. Then he exhaled. After all, it was that exact statement from Ben that led them to this point.

“Right, that’s pretty much what Ben said.” Ass responded as he held up his hand to preempt their apologies. “Anyway, I said something like ‘You know how I feel about the master”

“Hang a sec, dude.” Pete said. “I need a beer. Anyone else?”

Everyone responded in the affirmative, even Schnieder.

“Fuck off, Schnieder.” Pete responded. “You’re driving.”

“So?” Schnieder questioned only half-joking.

“You can have one of Ronnie’s.” Pete responded.

“Fuck that beer-flavored water, bullshit.” Schnieder protested

Pete stood up and negotiated his way the the refrigerator. He retrieved three beers and a O’Douls. As he was distributing them, Ass continued.

“So, Ben says ‘That’s why I love you’. And I’m like – ‘dude.’.” he said as he opened his can of beer. “Usually, Ben lets it drop. But not this morning.”

“Really?” Ronnie asked astonished.

“Yeah, he’s like. ‘Ass, at least I’m honest and I admit I love you’. I’m all ‘What?’ He says, ‘You love me’. I start denying it. Then he just rocked my world. He said ‘Ass when was the last time you went on a date with a woman.”

“Damn, Ben.” Pete started. “Never knew you had it in ya.”

Ben simply smiled. It’s all he could do. The last half hour of Ben’s life was the best he had ever had. He was doing all he could to enjoy the moment.

“That’s when I went running.” Ass started to summarize. “It took me almost the whole time to come to terms with the fact that I love a man. I mean …”

Turning to Ben, Ass looked him right in the eye and said.

“I love you, Ben. And not like in the buddy kinda way – actual love.”

“Holy fuck.” Pete said to Ass as he nodded towards Ben. “Go ahead give him a smooch.”

“For Christ sake.” Ronnie started but again Ass stopped him.

“That brings us to our problem.” Ass explained. “I have no problem acknowledging my love for Ben, but I really don’t know if I can get past the sex thing. I mean…I kinda assumed I would make love with the person I love, but now I realize I love another guy.”

“That’s messed.” Pete said. “How the…what is…”

Pete just let his words drop off. No one knew what to say.

“I seen it happen in ‘Nam.” Schnieder said. “Guys would be buddies and really they acted like couples. Some of ‘em fucked around and some of ‘em didn’t. But I always thought it was the sharing a foxhole thing. Never knew it could happen to anyone.

“Yeah, me neither.” Ass started. “Well, that’s where were at. Don’t know how things are going to go.”

Ass removed his arm from around Ben’s shoulder and place his hand on his thigh.

“I guess you and I need to talk this through, huh?” Ass asked.

“Yeah.” Ben replied as he slid his hand on to Ass’ and gave it a squeeze.

------------------------------------------------------------------

The two detectives were completely dumbfounded. They had been interrogating the guy for eight hours and they didn’t even have his name. Taking a moment away from the questioning, they sat at their desks sipping coffee.

“You believe him, Bill?” Roger asked breaking the silence.

“Huh.” Bill replied. “Do you? Guy kills two people on the street in broad daylight with his bare hands. He can’t remember anything not even his name. The only thing we’ve been able to get out of him is that he was in Saigon last night.”

The two men just looked at each other.

“Wonder when the shrink is going to get here?” Roger said as he took a quick glance over his shoulder. “Speaking of the Devil.”

“Right on cue.” Dr. Monroe Peters said as he strode confidently into the room. “Hear you boys have an interesting case for me.”

“Yeah, got a nut job that killed a cop and a bystander for no apparent reason.” Roger reported. “Says he can’t remember his name and that he was in Saigon yesterday. Seems a little far- fetched.”

“Hmmm…sounds like this could be a case of Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome.” Dr. Peters said.

“Post stress syn….” Bill started. “What?”

“We have been seeing a lot of this with the guys coming back from Vietnam.” Dr. Peters explained. “We use to refer to it as ‘shell shock’. But it is even more than that. These guys saw so much and they just couldn’t handle it.”

“So they turn violent?” Roger asked inquisitively

“Well, sometimes.” Dr. Peters continued. “Symptoms can range from sleeplessness to night terrors to flashbacks to extreme violence.”

“That’s bullshit.” Bill interjected. “Rog and I both slugged it out over there. I don’t mean none of that Saigon Charlie bull. We were in the shit and we didn’t come back half-crazed killers.”

Dr. Peters paused and considered Bills outburst. He had heard it frequently and not just from “regular” people, but from his colleagues as well. It was going to be an uphill battle, but he knew deep down that he and the others that recognized the problem would eventually convince people that this was real and these boys would get the help they needed.

“Look, Bill.” Dr. Peters said soothingly. “We all deal with stress and trauma in different ways. Some of us have better coping skills.”

“Horse shit.” Bill started.

“Bill, easy man.” Roger interjected. “The doc’s here to talk to the nut job … uh … the suspect. Let’s let him do his job. All right?”

“All right, but don’t expect me to go along with the touchy, feely bullshit.” Bill stated emphatically. “The guy is a cold-blooded killer and a cop killer at that.”

The doctor decided to ignore Bill’s matter-of-fact statement. He knew it was going to take time to convince people and this was neither the time or place to start. Right now, his job was to get inside this guys head and see what was happening in there.

“Can I see the suspect?” Dr. Peters asked.

“Sure.” Roger replied. “This way.”

Without looking back at Bill, Dr. Peters fell in step behind Roger.

“He’s nothing but a lousy cop killer.” Bill shouted after them.

“Sorry, Doc. I know you have a job to do.” Roger apologized. “Bill gets a little wound up, especially when we have a dead cop on our hands.”

“I understand, really.” Dr. Peters replied.

Dr. Peters interviewed the man for over three hours that. The only thing he could get from the man was that he was sure that he was still in Vietnam and that the “evil” was out there waiting for him.

After a week of interviews, Dr. Peters had not made any progress. He wanted to help the man, but unfortunately his illness was too profound. The was only one alternative.

“This man is going to spend the rest of his life in a psychiatric facility.” He told the police. “I will start the paperwork.”


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Copyright (c) 2006 Paul Gavin. All rights reserved.

Saturday, February 25, 2006

I thought I'd give Howard a try

Here is the email I sent to Howard Stern. I guarantee this will get me on his show.

Hey Howard,

My personal opinion is that you really should check out the Rebeleyeball. I'm smart, funny and I have a pretty nice rack, but I won't let you throw baloney at my ass. Seriously, my reader wants to hear me on your show. She thinks I'm great.

I tell ya, I am at least as interesting as any baseball player you have ever had on your show. Let me on, you'll probably reget it. But what the hell, you think people are going to stop listening to you cause you have on one crappy guest? Let me be that guest - I have to sell some books, man.

Thanks,

Paul Gavin


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Copyright (c) 2006 Paul Gavin. All rights reserved.

Second email to David Lettermen

Just had to try emailing Dave one more time. I think this situation is a little different from the emails I sent to Mark Cuban, because I don't have David Lettermen's direct email address. I watched enough Dave to realize that there is probably an intern reading the email - now that sounds like a fun job.

I really think I'm a natural for Howard Stern, but I have no idea how to get ahold of him. Doing all this work is difficult. I need a publicist. For some reason, I think it would be more difficult for me to find a good publicist that would work for free than it would be to get on a show on my own. Maybe I should try Wheel of Fortune.

Anyway, here is the email:

Yo Dave,

Paul Gavin again - you know the Rebeleyeball. I thought we had an agreement. You were going to have a co-ex-Hoosier on the show to talk about my writing and my fan would watch your show. We can rap about anything you want or you can follow my script.

I'll keep checking my email every hour, awaiting the scheduling info.

Thanks,

Paul


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Copyright (c) 2006 Paul Gavin. All rights reserved.

Chapter 16 is ready

I wrote Chapter 16 tonight while I was cooking dinner. This is definitely going in the direction I want it to. You may be interested to know that I figured out what to do with Annie.

As far as Anita goes, I'll get back to her soon. I am at a point where I have so many ideas that I am having a little difficulty focusing. It's not like I can stop myself from thinking about the other story lines when I am writing one. Things just pop in my head and I start molding them. It takes a great deal of energy to keep things organized.

There are so many story lines and unfortunatly, I can only type so fast. This is the time that I absolutely love writing the most. Okay, so maybe my writing doen't knock you of your feet but you have admit I tell a pretty intriguing, complex story.


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Copyright (c) 2006 Paul Gavin. All rights reserved.

The Break - Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Suddenly, Schnieder was on the bus with Pete and Ronnie. His eyes darting quickly from side to side, he quickly surveyed the bus.

“What time is it?” He asked brusquely.

“Damn, dude.” Pete responded. “Good Morning to you, too.

“I said, ‘what time is it’” Schiender said in a voice that told Pete he was in one of his moods.

“It’s noon.” Pete responded trying to determine whether he wanted to say anything else.

Between Schnieder’s freakiness and Ronnie’s surly morning attitude, it was not shaping up to be a great bus trip.

“Where the fuck are the other two?” Schnieder asked impatiently.

Pete looked over to see if Ronnie was going to take part. Seeing him sitting and staring out the window, he knew he was on his own to deal with Schnieder.

“Not sure.” Pete responded trying to keep his part of the conversation to the absolute minimum.

“Why the fuck not?” Schnieder continued to harshly question.

“What? I … uh …” Pete started.

“You dumbass. Do you know anything?” Continued Schnieder.

“Back of Pete, Schnieder.” Ronnie interjected without turn his head. “It’s your job to make sure the bus leaves on time, not his. That’s why we pay you.”

“Look, you little piece of …” Schnieder began.

That moment, Ronnie turned and stared directly into Schneider’s eyes. Unflinching, he stared at Schnieder as if he could channel enough energy to bore a hole through him.

“Finish that sentence,” Ronnie said evenly. “And you can walk your ass back to Colorado.”

Taking a moment to survey the situation, Schnieder saw the look in Ronnie’s eyes. Knowing the kid half his age was absolutely serious, Schnieder began to soften. As he did, he realized that he was being a jerk.

“Damn, Ronnie.” Schnieder said. “It’s cool.”
“All right, Schnieder.” Ronnie responded in a civil tone. “Let’s just give them a few minutes. I think I saw Ben in the lobby.”

“Yeah, and if Ben’s there.” Pete said jovially. “You know Ass has to be pretty close.”

This comment drew a glare from Ronnie, but Pete just shrugged it off. That’s just the way he was. Ronnie was intense and moody, Ben was quiet and introverted and Ass was disciplined and reliable. Pete was the one that kept things lose. All the boys had a great sense of humor, that’s one of the things that kept them close. But it was Pete that delivered most of the punch lines, even in the worst situations.

“No doubt, eh?” Schnieder said with a hint of a smile.

Seeing that Schnieder’s mood was improving, Pete turned an eye back to Ronnie.

“You gonna snap out of it, bitch?” Pete asked. “Or you gonna ride the whole way to Missoula with you tight little panties in a bunch?”

Schnieder burst out laughing and Ronnie even managed a smile. It wasn’t what Pete said necessarily, it was how he said it. The smile and the infectious laugh were Pete’s trademark. And usually, his timing was dead on.

“Hey, here comes Ben.” Ronnie said.

The other two hunched over to get a view of Ben walking out of the front door of the hotel. Expecting to see Ass, they all kept watching the front door. Until they heard Ben’s footsteps on the steps of the bus.

“Ass have to take a shit?” Pete asked.

“What do you mean?” Ben asked as he quickly looked around the bus. “You mean he’s not here?”

The three others exchanged a bewildered look. Simultaneously, they turned back to look at Ben. They saw the worried look on his face. After a palatable pause, Ronnie was about to break the silence when they heard the sound of footsteps on the bus steps.

Ass ascended the top of the stairs and turned to see the four others staring at him. Taken aback, he wasn’t sure what to say. No one else knew what to say either.

“What are you looking at?” Ass finally broke the silence.

“You.” Ben replied looking at him with a concerned look. “Where have you been?”

Ass turned his eyes away from Ben and addressed his response to the others.

“I went for a run.” Ass responded and with a shrug he continued. “Guess I went a little farther than I planned.”

“Dude, what the fuck?” Pete asked.

Ass was drenched in sweat. His white University of Colorado t-shirt was actually dripping and there were two circles of red one his chest.

“I dunno.” Ass replied.

It was as if he was trying to understand his appearance. He took a closer look at himself. His shoes were covered I mud. As were, his socks and calves. Like his shirt, his shorts had reached their capacity to hold the sweat that had drained from his body. He pulled the neck of his shirt open and look down.

“Holy shit.” He exclaimed. “My nipples are bleeding. That’s never happened before. I guess they got a little chaffed while I was running.”

“How far did you run?” Pete continued since he seemed to be the only one that cold talk.

“After I turned back around I ran past a sign that said Billings – 9 miles.” Ass responded. “I think I must have run like twenty or twenty-one miles.”

“You what?” Ben asked finally finding his voice. “Are you that …”

“We’ll talk about it later, Ben.” Ass said cutting him off.

Seeing the look Ass had given him, Ben decided not to push it. If Ass said they would talk later, then they would talk later. Looking around, he realized that he didn’t really want to have the conversation in front of everyone either.

“I just needed to do some thinking.” Ben heard Ass continuing.

It was as if Ben was outside his body. He floated around the group, studying the look on each face. Then he felt it. All the concern for Ass, all the focus all the attention all the concerned conversation buzzing back and forth made it perfectly clear to him. Before he really knew he was talking he heard his voice.

“Let’s talk about it now.”

“What?” Ass responded. “Really? In front of everyone?”

“Why not.” Ben said gaining courage. “They are our best friends, our family really.”

Ass hesitated. Looking deeply into Ben’s eyes, he saw it. He saw the love. Just as they were while they were playing, they were in synch.

“What’s going on with you two?” Pete asked.
“Ben and I are in love.” Ass said matter-of-factly.

Ben was more shocked than any of the other three. They group exchanged bewildered looks. No one had any idea how to respond.

“Problem is.” Ass continued. “I’m not gay. Any of you guys have any ideas how what we can do about that?”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

He cleared his throat and stepped slowly up to the microphone.

“We the Thunder Ridge High graduating class 1971,” Frankie began. “Are faced with a world of uncertainty. The war effort in Vietnam continues. We have problems with labor unions, inflation, recession, race riots. Our challenge is to set forth from here and take the lead in making America great. We need to become involved. Join the Peace Corp, work to pass the 27th amendment. I myself have joined the Marine Corps. I leave tomorrow for Paris Island and then hopefully I will be sent to Vietnam to protect the freedom of the Vietnamese people.”

Frankie pause to let the crowd absorb his statement. He had not told anyone that he was now a Marine.

“I know that all the protesters out there are saying this is an unjust war. That America is ruining Vietnam. That we are killing innocents. I say not. What better cause than the cause of freedom? What better war than the war against communism? It is our time to keep America great and to preserve freedom for all people!”

He stepped back for the podium and scanned the crowd. Waiting for the cheers to erupt. Much to his dismay, it was not cheers he heard but jeers.

“BABY KILLER!” One classmate screamed.

“Make love, not war man.” Another added.

Several other remarks could be heard mixed in with the very loud boos.

“What the hell?” Frankie thought. “Is everyone here high on pot?” He stepped back up to the microphone.

“What is wrong with you people? Don’t you want to make the world a better place?”

Then she invaded his thoughts. Totally occupying everything. He had to push it aside to deal with the issues of the here and now.

“Look, America use to stand for something.” He said as he brushed aside every thought of her. “It used to be the land of the free and the home of the brave. We said it and we meant it. Now that a few of those hippie protesters start saying “Turn on and tune out” all of you are ready to pack it in and be satisfied with things as they are. We need …

“Fuck off, Mr. Establishment.”

“Booooo….”

Frankie was drowned out he could not be heard above the din. That was it. He couldn’t take anymore. He just turned and walked away from the podium. He could not believe how his speech was received. He had played it over again and again in his head and every time it ended in a chorus of cheers. He had been wrong, totally wrong. Much like he had been with everything he had done in the past month.

Right after prom he broke up with her. He didn’t want her to worry while he was gone. Now he knew it had been the biggest mistake he had ever made. He had to get out of here now. “No, really I got to get the fuck out of here. Amid the continuing chorus of boos, he quickly turned and jumped over the rail and onto the football field. As soon as he hit he was running full stride to her house.

He made it to Elmcrest Road. He ran to her front door and began pounding.

“Debbie, Debbie.” He yelled in agony. “Please come to the door.”

He pounded and pounded. There was no answer. He continued pounding.

“Debbie please…”

After what seemed to be an eternity, Debbie came to the door.

“What do you want?” She asked. “I thought you said it was over.”

Totally relived that she finally answered the door, Frankie simply said,

“I was wrong.”

“What?” Debbie asked.

His head sunk as he looked at the floor of the wooden porch. “I was wrong.” He said almost silently.

“What are you saying?” Debbie asked.

“I am saying that you mean more to me than I can possible say.”

“Then why did you break it off?” She asked in a very bitter tone. “Why?” She said searchingly.

“I…I…I…” he started.

“You what?” She asked. “You took me out and flat out told me that nothing would happen between us. You said that.” She said. Then more emphatically she said, “YOU SAID THAT!”

Stunned and humbled Frankie couldn’t think of how to reply. He didn’t know what to say. Finally, he said,

“I know, I know.” He started. “But since then I have spent a lot of time thinking and I was wrong.”

Slowly he moved toward her. He looked directly into her eyes and said,

“I was wrong. What else can I say? Can I tell you that every waking moment you are in my thoughts? That you invade my dreams every night. That you are all I ever think about. All I care about. You are my everything. My world. You fill a need that I have had for a very long time.”

“Are you serious?” Debbie asked when he took a moment to breath. “You came and told me that we had bad timing. That everything you had said in the past was wrong and now you’re trying to tell me that you didn’t mean it?”

Frankie considered what Debbie was saying to him. He could understand her confusion but he couldn’t understand why she didn’t believe him.

“Well…uh…well…yeah.” He said. “I already said I was wrong and I meant it.”

“You think you can walk over here and just tell me that you were wrong and sorry and I would just open my arms and accept you back?”

Frankie took a moment to consider what Debbie was saying.

“Well…uh…I mean…well… yeah...I mean…you know…”

“No, I don’t know. I just don’t get it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you told me. You told me that it was over between us. That it had all been a mistake. That you just couldn’t continue.”

Frankie look down and kicked at an invisible dirt speck on the porch.

“I know, but I didn’t mean it. I just…I…”

“You just what?”

“What I said…well I…well I was wrong.” Frankie said. “Since then I have done a lot of thinking…”

“You’ve done some thinking?” She asked viciously.

Stunned, Frankie was totally taken aback. This was Debbie. Debbie the object of his affection. The most beautiful woman he had ever met. The woman he was going to …

“Well?” She asked again.

“Well this. I made mistakes but one thing I can tell you is that I want you, I need you. We have to be together. I mean it.”

“You want me, you need me?” She asked even more viciously than before. “I’ve moved on.”

“What?” Frankie asked.

“I’ve moved on.” She said flatly.

Frankie thought for a moment. He didn’t know quite how to react. He thought and thought for what seemed an eternity. This wasn’t the way he expected the conversation to go. He had expected her to be as excited as he was.

“You’ve moved on?” Frankie asked, he voice crackling with emotion. “What about me?”

“What about you?” She asked. “You told me you weren’t interested in me any more.”

“I…well…I was…it’s…I just wanted to let you down easy.” He replied weakly.

“Let me down easy?” She asked incredulously.

“Yeah, I didn’t want to make you wait …”

“Make me wait?” She asked indignantly.

“Yeah, make you wait until …” His voice trailed off.

“Until what?” She asked as her eyes look at his face, searching.

“That’s not important.” He said quickly not wanting to change the conversation. The most important thing is that I need you. I have to have you. I must … I … well …I want …”

“What are you saying?” She asked after the stammering became intolerable.

“I’m saying that the things I thought should keep us apart don’t matter any more.” He paused trying to get his lips to form the correct words. “I mean…it’s…well we should be together – even if it is for a short time. I just …”

“You just what?” She asked harshly.

“I just have to have you. I mean it.” He said quietly. “I will do anything, anything for you. I will …”

“You’ll what?” She continued questioning.

Frankie was so focused on trying to communicate his desires, he complete missed Debbie’s hostile body language. Arms folded tightly across her chest, she glared directly at his face as he spoke.

“I’ll do anything you ask, just to be with you.” He pled without looking to see if his words were having the desired effect. “I mean it, anything. Just ask me. I will do it. Please, you just have to ask.”

“Are you telling me you love me?” She prompted.

“Maybe….uh…maybe…well…I’m not sure, but I would like to find out.” Frankie managed to say. “Really, I would like to explore things with you.”

“Explore?”

“Yes, I mean it. I want to try. It’s worth it. I mean it. I want this to happen. Please, please let it happen. Let’s try.”

“Screw you.” Debbie said.

“What?”

“I said screw you coming here and messing with my mind. Coming here telling me you will do anything and you want to explore.” Debbie said angrily. “Screw you.”

“No…please…”

“Please what?”

“Please, it can work. We can be …”

“We can be what?”

“We can be together – even for a short time. Please, please give me the chance. You know you want me as much as I want you.”

“What?”

“I know it. You want it as bad as I do. You want us to be together. I could tell when you touch me. I know. I know….” He tailed off voicelessly.

“You don’t know shit.”

“Yes, I do. I know what I want now. It’s you. And I know you want me. I know it. You just need to admit it.”

“Screw you.” Debbie said as she slammed the door in his face.


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Copyright (c) 2006 Paul Gavin. All rights reserved.

Friday, February 24, 2006

Bummer

My graphic artist didn't finish the new cover for Progressing Rapidly Over Uneven Terrain. Anyone have any thoughts of the new name? "Web Site". Since the artist didn't finish, I still have time to come up with a new name. I am open to suggestions.


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Copyright (c) 2006 Paul Gavin. All rights reserved.

A little more on Vickie

Last night, we created a character named Victoria aka Vickie. We have a good base understanding. She is a 37 year-old divorced woman that happens to be an ex-Goth that had a brief episode of cutting herself when she was a teenager. She is intelligent, strong and generally happy although she is teetering on the edge of becoming a bitter person.

So what else do we need to know about Victoria? We still need to research the music, but what about books? Who would her favorite author be - James Mitchner? Nah, how about Jack Kerouac? She likes "On the Road", but the really genius is in "Big Sur" and "The Subterraneans". What does she do in her spare time. Actually, she is more physical than we would guess. She bikes, runs, skis and goes to yoga - all in moderation. Additionally, she loves to play board games with her friends. Bit what she really digs is writing poetry - that is what her blog is about.

Next time, we are going to talk about the 45+ man. Right now, I am thinking that he is a man ready to retire and fulfill his dream of being ... next time.


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Copyright (c) 2006 Paul Gavin. All rights reserved.

Thursday, February 23, 2006

Who wants to be on TV

Here I am, a fiction writer wannabe who thinks he has this incredible idea, but I can't get the right people to listen. I am tired of wringing my hands about this. Let's just do it.

Yesterday, I started by telling you the age groups of the six characters of the show. Tonight, I want to introduce one of the characters. Come on, we'll do it together. Let's start by creating a blogger type profile. Who should we create first? What's that you say? The 35 to 44 year old female character? Exactly what I was thinking.

First thing we need is a name. Well, not the first thing. You can't just reach out a grab a name. No, the name has to be the person. There is absolutely nothing worse than not having the name match the character, unless you are going to purposely play on the mismatch in the story. But we don't want to do that with her, do we? No, you say. My thoughts exactly.

So, this 35 to ... no lets just pick a year she was born let's go with 1968. Why 1968 you ask? When you look back through history, there are certain years that stick out as particularly meaningful. Right, you have your 1066, your 1448, of course 1492, then there's 1557, 1620 notwithstanding, everyone's favorite 1776, 1789 a year we should all be considering at this time, 1812 not so much in this bunch, but we'll include it here anyway, 1815, 1860, 1865, 1899, 1914, 1917, 1929, 1933, 1940, 1941, and . Now, I understand that this site is available globally and I know I left out some important dates, please forgive me. Christ, I am American (just a little dig at the other 60 or so countries that co-exist with the US on the two American continents)it's not like were known for our global awareness or our sense of history. By the way, if the dates I listed don't mean anything to you - you may want to do a little studying. Anyway, I have always refered to 1968 as a crack in time - at least since I saw a documentary titled "1968: A Crack in Time" in my History 450 class in college.

Wow, that was a long route to say she's 37. She'll turn 38 on October 4, 2006. See now we know we are dealing with a 37 year old woman and we know her birthday. Now, we need to make her interesting. First of all, when she was younger she was into the Goth scene - heavily. Not the whole vampire scene, but definitely wearing black with red lipstick and pasty white skin. Going to the clubs, listening to the music and doing all the other Goth stuff. Why a Goth you ask. There is something about woman that feel the need to express themselves in this fashion. Not that I have ever had much experience with Goth woman, but for some reason I get it. The few times I have had the pleasure of having a conversation with a person that lives this type of lifestyle, I have thoroughly enjoyed it. For some reason, I get it.

That being said, I have never really been associate with the Goth lifestyle. We will have to do some research here i.e. get some band names, some clubs that are well known circa 1995 to 2000. Might help if we had a hometown to research the clubs. Who up for Chicago - absolutely not. Too big a city, I'm thinking Des Moines Iowa.

Where are we? Oh yeah, 37 year old white ex-Goth from Des Moines, IO. Now I think we have enough to get her name. Wait one other tidbit, when she was earlier in her early teens, she was a bit of a cutter. But she couldn't stand the pain so it only lasted about 3-6 months. However, the fact that she did it at all is very difficult for her to take. So, do have a name? Ashley? No. Jennifer? Just not right. Any other thoughts? Well to me, this adds up to a Vickie or Victoria as she goes by ever since she decided to leave the Goth lifestyle, be "normal" find a man and settle down.

She ended up with Steve, who happened to be the most controlling abusive bastard in Iowa. But because Victoria is a very intelligent woman and she possesses an inner strength, she was able to summon up the courage to walk out a year ago. It was her new beginning, but she is still burdened by the depression. That equals a screen name like darkgodess ... uh ... no. Way too obvious and there is already darkgodess1 through darkgoddess16. No, she is BriteEyes.

You think Vickie is a wreck? Don't misunderstand, Vickie is not a basket case. She is a very intelligent, very strong woman. However, she was not brought up to assert herself. Nor has she ever had anyone that has recognized these qualities or given her the support to achieve her potential.

So here is the character we built together, Vickie a very intelligent, strong 37 year old, ex-Goth that experienced a bad marriage. She has a generally positive outlook on life, but she is teetering on the edge of becoming one of the bitter post-divorce man-haters. One more bad experience and she might fall over into the abyss.

Over time, we will flesh out all of these idiosyncrasies and fobiles. We will also probably find a few more.


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Copyright (c) 2006 Paul Gavin. All rights reserved.

Some pretty good news

This is pretty exciting for me. The blog just reached it's 1000th page load from 526 unique visitors. There were four reasons I started blogging.

First, I was interested in finding out what blogging was all about out natural curiosity. Second, I wanted to see how all this online marketing stuff worked. Third, I wanted to get exposure to my work. And lastly, I wanted to sell some of my books.

How have I done in five weeks? Well, I think I understand all the buzz about blogging. I love doing it. Rarely do I sit an watch TV any more. My laptop is always, well, on my lap.

Overall, I would say I have a pretty good idea how online advertising works. In the last five weeks, I learned more about advertising and marketing than I learned in my previous 20+ years in the business world.

As far as getting exposure check out the numbers and you can see that there has been a significant traffic increase.

                        Jan 18 to Feb 8 (21 days)   Feb 9 to Feb 23 (14 days)     Total
Page loads:               354                                    647                                  1001
Unique Visitors:       149                                    377                                    526
First Time Visitors:  135                                   345                                     480
Return Visitors:         14                                     32                                       46

In 14 days, there was almost twice the page loads and more than twice the repeat visitor traffic of the previous 21 days.

The one area I where I haven't made any progress is: I haven't sold any books. But I have had 25 new visitors to Progressing Rapidly Over Uneven Terrain. That may not sound like many, but in the last 2 1/2 years I only had 80. So, that is a big jump.

I think I have two problems with Progressing Rapidly Over Uneven Terrain. First, the title is too long. So, I am going to change the name to "Web Site".

Second, although personally I like the cover, it does not have a professional look. It looks like a self-published work. They say you shouldn't judge a book by it's cover, but I really think that is happening. Therefore, I have engaged a very talented graphic artist to create a new cover for me. I should have the final proofs back tomorrow. This weekend I will publish "Web Site" on lulu.com.

All of you that have already purchased a copy Progressing Rapidly Over Uneven Terrain will have quite a collectors item when "Web Site" hits it big. You'll be able to tell everyone, I read it when it was Progressing Rapidly Over Uneven Terrain.

In summary, it's pretty encouraging news. Hopefully, you are all enjoying my attempt to entertain you and you feel like a part of the experience. All y'all come back and bring your friends - the more the merrier!


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Copyright (c) 2006 Paul Gavin. All rights reserved.

Technical Difficulties

I have no idea why the sidebar is not behaving properly. I am working on it and will resolve the issue as soon as possible.


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Copyright (c) 2006 Paul Gavin. All rights reserved.

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

Let's consider the written word

Living in twenty-first century United States, it is easy to take things for granted. Such as, the written word. It's very simple. Everyone reading this blog is at least marginally literate. We all know what words are, how the are spelled, how to read them. Do you ever consider that most of the world does not have a concept of reading and writing?

It's true. Most of the world communicates only with the spoken word. Think about that for a minute. If you only communicate by the spoken word, it means that it is very difficult to communicate over distances. You can only speak to someone who is in your presence. What about the telephone? Well, it is estimated that over sixty percent of the world's population has never seen a telephone.

If that estimate is correct, then that means that well over half of the world's population lives within the same social structure that the European-based society had prior to 1448, when Gutenberg refined the printing process to allow for mass produced documents.

Prior to that, literacy was confined to the elite and the clerics. Those that slavishly copied, re-copied, re-re-copied books, charts and documents by hand. Thus society was formed in small geographically-based tribal units. Communication was limited to those that you could speak to in a relative close proximity. Since a conversation gets a little stale after a week, it was hard to keep close connection with people that lived farther than a one week walk or horse ride from you.

I have no idea who was the first to capture an alphabet and string together symbols into meaningfully groupings, not sure that anyone does. Just think about the genius of it though. Think of the shear magnitude of effort it would take to do this. How could you get a group, abet a small group, but still more than a few people, to agree what shape symbol meant "a". Additionally, what sound is attributed to that symbolic representation? Obviously, it's not easy on that last part - that's how we end up with "accents". Again, a regional geographic separation hindered the adherence to a strict standard.

Why does any of this matter? Mainly, it tells a great deal about how we have grown as a society. Additionally, it should point out that when we look at the rest of the world we cannot begin to understand what it is like to live where the main form of communication is verbal. Verbal communication is transient and therefore unreliable. The written word is permanent for the life of the media on which it is captured. It can be argued that it is reliable in that it can be examined, re-examined even argued about the meaning without losing sight of what was originally captured. Whereas, verbal communication becomes the victim of people's memory over a very short time frame.

Yes, the written word is what made us who we are. It is what keeps our society together. It is what allows us to appreciate our rich, storied history as individuals, as families, as nations, and as a world. It is what allows me to accurately capture what I am thinking at this moment and transfer it to a media that I can refer to later and possibly recapture part of what I felt at the exact moment. It is what allows us to speculate what the future may hold. Unlike a memory, the written word can also transfer these thoughts to you over space and time without ever having met you. That is power. That is the written word. That is what I love about writing. That is why I will continue to write.


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Copyright (c) 2006 Paul Gavin. All rights reserved.

And you laughed at my BIG Idea

This post is to inform you that My BIG Idea is the most visited page on all of the rebeleyeball blogs.

Yes, now it is just a matter of time before someone blatantly rips off my idea and finds the capital to launch it. All I ask is that when you do rip me off, throw me a bone. It's the most you could do - give me credit for the idea and a small stipend. I'm not greedy, just want to get a little ... you know ... consideration. Do the right thing. Is that too much to ask? Don't we live in a civilized society? Can't you just give credit where credit is due?

I wonder who they will get to play me. Let's see, Chris Farley is no longer with us, Chris Rock is too skinny, Christina Brinkley is a little too blonde ... hmm ... I guess it might have to be - Fred Flintstone. Ask anyone who knows me - I do have his toes.

Maybe I should just produce it myself. I could do it. Sure, what's stopping me? Just have to figure out how to cast the characters without give up too much info. The cast should be made up of 3 men and 3 women. There should be a man and a women in each of the age groups - 25-34, 35-44 and 45+. I want them to be geographically separated. The blogs would start first, that will give my time to write an actual script for the show. All that's left after that would be to schedule a timeslot on television - anyone know anything about Leased Access? Just a little FYI: If you have to ask what Leased Access is, then you don't know anything about it.

If you are interested, please apply via comment.


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Copyright (c) 2006 Paul Gavin. All rights reserved.

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

Amazing Poetry Link

Wow! This site blew me away. I highly recommend you check this out. http://sleightmind.blogspot.com/ .



Copyright (c) 2006 Paul Gavin. All rights reserved.

My writing process

This may come as no surprise to anyone. But when I write, I don't sit down to outline exactly what I am going to write. I tend to allow my fingers to just go. Everything I have written in these blogs and as part of the break have been stream-of-consciousness. I rarely re-read what I type and I rely too heavily on the spell checker.

I know these are limitations. My writing could probably be significantly better if I took the time to chart out what I am going to say. Then flesh out the outline, re-read and look for more appropriate words for each situation I am writing. However, I wouldn't enjoy that at all.

Let me tell you a little about me. My job is to be a manager. Not only that, but I am a development manager. This means I spend most of my time planning and executing to plan. I am writing as a form of relaxation. One thing I do not want to do is come home at night and follow the same process I follow at work.

To me, it is much more exciting to just sit down and see what my characters have been up to. Don't get me wrong, I know these people. I live with my characters twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. I know where they were born, where they grew up, who they dated in high school, what they like to eat, how they like to spend their time. I also know all the crap they have in their heads, the things they don't want anyone to know about, what makes them happy, what makes them sad. In less words, they are very real to me. I think about them at various times throughout the day as if I was thinking about a friend I haven't spoken to in a long time. Other times, like when I am writing, they consume my thoughts. There have been times that I have felt that I was channeling their emotions - wait - did I just say that? Uh...do I want to let you in...oh, that's right, full disclosure.


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Copyright (c) 2006 Paul Gavin. All rights reserved.

New blog layout

Since I have been updated the blogs regularly and the list only maintains ten links, I created a page of links to all the posts. Additionally, it is very hard to read a book backwards. Therefore, in the top left of the blog title there is a list called "Suggested Starting Points". Click on the area you want to go to and it will take you to the list of links for that blog.

I hope this makes it easier on everyone to find any post you are looking for.



Copyright (c) 2006 Paul Gavin. All rights reserved.

The Break - Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Since he had been lying in the hospital bed, he did not have many visitors. In fact, the only people allowed past the heavily armed guards were cops and lawyers. Right now, Ron was glad that there were neither present right now. He was heavily involved in reviewing his life. Trying the best he could to remember the entire path that led to the explosion.

For some reason, he kept thinking about one day in particular. It seemed to define his life, up until the time that the doctor first told him he had cancer. That was the day his life changed. That was the moment that he realized that Ronnie was the most important part of his life. That was the day he pushed Ronnie to explore his talent. That, of course, was what had led to this terrible situation.

Prior to the life altering diagnosis, he had one and only one goal in life and that was to make as much money as he possibly could. It was about the only goal he had ever had any luck in meeting. His first goal was to be a pro ball-player. When that didn’t work out, he wanted to have a son that was a pro ball-player. He got stuck with that lame ass excuse for a son, Little Ronnie. All he ever wanted to do was smoke dope and play the guitar.

“My luck, he’s probably a fag, too.” He remembered thinking.

At the time, he had no idea how much his life would change. How much more he would understand about people. No back then, he had been very self-involved.

“Was I really like that?” He thought. “Really was it like I remember? Could I have been that shallow?”

Ron deftly weaved his Hummer through traffic, much as he moved his own bulk effortlessly through crowds. The Hummer was a natural fit for Big Ron - big, tough and expensive and yet deceptively agile. It was the only vehicle for a man like Big Ron.

"Can't believe that kid of mine." He thought to himself. "Why couldn't he have been a ball player?"

“Fuckin’ A.” He said aloud as he brushed several beads of sweat that formed on his forehead despite the fact that he was behind the wheel of an air-conditioned vehicle. He felt a slight grin begin to form on his face as he allowed himself a moment to enjoy the rhythm of the road. Almost instantly, his mood changed.

“Oh well,” Big Ron thought to himself. “Guess I’ll just have to suffer through life being the rich, handsome man that I am.”

The musings about the Hummer did not last long. They were quickly replaced by business. For the last six months, Big Ron had been working a huge development deal. It was the most perfect deal he had ever put together. All he had to do was match the money to the landowner and he would walk away with five million dollars.

“Five million for six months work,” he thought as the grin exploded into a full-fledged smile. “Not bad - not bad at all.”

As usual, Ron pulled into his personalized parking space. Seemingly in one motion, he put the Hummer in park, opened the door and exited the behemoth. Nonchantly, he tossed his keys on the front seat before closing the door. They would need them when they came to wash the Hummer. The Hummer was detailed every day. If there was one thing Big Ron believed in, it was appearances.

“You always – always - have to look as if you don’t need money.” He said frequently.

As he fetched his jacket that was neatly hung in the back seat, he picked off a couple of pieces of lint that had become attached to it during the long commute. Now, his suit was impeccable. That went well with his perfectly manicured fingers, close cropped hair and his chiseled torso.

The latter had been slipping a bit lately. This deal had cut into his workout regimen. The result was some extra cushioning around the middle. It was even starting to show in his suit. The pants were tight and the jacket was starting to bunch up a bit. That definitely was unacceptable. Most women didn’t mind a little extra padding. That is, they didn’t mind until you got naked. Ron had seen the look a few times lately. As soon as the papers were signed, he would take care of that.

Always the hunter, Big Ron looked in every woman’s eyes. When he saw the right sparkle, he closed in immediately. There was rarely a day in Big Ron’s life that he didn’t get a little extra action. Ron had always felt like a man – a real man. This feeling was fed by his incredible skill for satisfying women.

“If there was one thing I can do, its fuck.” He would brag to his friends. “Who am I to hold back? All babes deserve a little satisfaction in their lives. I’m happy to be of service.”

Upon hearing his rhetoric, most men wrote it off as false bravado. However, Big Ron actually understated his talent for physically stimulating women. Unfortunately for his wife, he was not able to provide much else for a woman.

Ron knew that Sheila didn’t like his charitable contributions to woman-kind, but he really didn’t care. If she was willing to give it to him several times a day, he wouldn’t go chasing. Actually, that wasn’t true. Big Ron wanted – no he actually needed strange. He just couldn’t control it. This behavior cost him dearly in his first marriage. It was even more costly in his first divorce. But that wasn’t going to happen again. He had Sheila sign a pre-nuptial agreement that was very much in his favor. He still felt it was the shrewdest deal he ever closed.

There was no doubt that Sheila was attractive. He wouldn’t have married her if she wasn’t a world class beauty. They used to be amazing together. But it got boring. That’s all it was. It was like they used up their quota and it just wasn’t fun any more. He still performed his duty occasionally, but it wasn’t a big deal. Instead, he opted to spend his energy on anonymous sex.

Big Ron strode towards the elevator. This morning he had something on his mind. That something was a hot little number that always arrived around the same time in the lobby by the bank. He had caught her eye briefly once last week and then again two days ago. Ron knew one thing – she wanted it. And she was going to get it.

“That’s right, today is the day little missy gets what’s coming to her. “ He thought.

As the door opened, he saw her. It was perfect. The hard part was over, all he had to do now was close the deal and Big Ron was a closer, just ask anyone. He quickly strode towards her. He tried to get her attention, but she wouldn’t look up. Ron slowed his pace so that he wouldn’t walk past her. He veered slightly to the left and as she looked up, he turned back to the left so that he was facing her. Their eyes met and Ron gave her a big smile. She immediately returned the smile and gazed deeply into his eyes. She stared at him for a full fifteen seconds. Now Ron knew he had her. She was interested. All he had to do was strike up a conversation and he would be pumping her within the hour.

“Hi, there.” Ron said with a giant smile.

“Hello.” She responded as she turned her eyes downward.

“Bad sign.” Ron thought.

The thought quickly shot out of Ron’s mind as she looked up and made eye contact again. This time she wore a knowing smile.

“That’s more like it.” He thought. “So, where are you heading?”

“Just going to work?” She replied.

“That’s too bad.” Ron said. “I was heading for a cup of coffee and I didn’t want to go alone.”

Ron watched closely for her reaction. If she hesitated for a moment, she would go with him. After ten seconds, she had not responded. Finally she said,

“Well, I was on my way to Starbucks.” She said coyly.

“Oh, really? Do you mind if I join you?” Ron said knowing the battle had been won.

“Well sure, that would be nice.” She said.

They never actually made it to the coffee shop. Big Ron didn’t have time. Today was the day he going to close the deal. No doubt about it. All the work over the past six months was about to pay off. Somehow in the three blocks, Ron had made enough progress, that he simply walked into the office building that housed the coffee shop and walked into the stairwell without even looking back. He knew she would follow him.

Within thirty seconds, he was inside her. He lifted her arms above her head and pinned her against the wall. Slowly, he penetrated her deeply, forcefully. Then he would slide out equally as slowly and then repeat the steady inward thrust. Relentlessly he kept the same rhythm filling her completely then slowly sliding out. She asked him to move faster, then she begged. Big Ron was too disciplined. Experience told him that this method was the best way to ensure she enjoyed herself to the fullest.

“You just have to wait for it.” He whispered into her ear as he continued driving into her.

After what seemed to be an eternity, she began to lose control. Ron felt it. He knew she was close. As she began the low guttural moan, he slammed deeply into her and pushed hard with his legs. His giant frame almost crushing her into the wall as he pressed farther and throbbed. Within seconds, he felt the explosive release. After he withdrew, he quickly zipped up his pants, turned and walked out of the stairwell without say a word.

He didn’t have time. It had taken longer than he expected with that girl. Now, he only had four minutes before the meeting.

“No big deal, you got it cold.” He told himself as he quickly exited the building without pausing or glancing over his shoulder.

Of course Big Ron was right. This had been the easiest deal he had ever worked. He had found a seller that wanted to sell and a buyer that really wanted to buy. All he did was put them in the same room. The two absolutely loved each other. As a matter of fact, Ron thought they were currently engaging it extra circular activities. It was great. She was a young widow that wanted to liquidate all of her poor dead husband’s estate. He was a trust-funder looking to get into the land development arena to prove he could do more than spend his inheritance.

“What a dickhead.” Ron thought. “He never had to work a day in his life.”

Ron was jealous, but very happy that the kid was so naive. Ron was charging him a full five points more than his standard rate.

“My commission is eleven percent.” Ron had said.

“Sounds fair to me.” The kid said without batting an eye.

Needless to say, Big Ron was going to make five million on this deal. He really was in a good mood this morning.

The elevator opened at the 33rd floor. Big Ron stepped out and walked towards the glass doors embossed with the words “Harrison and Associates”. It always made Ron smile when he saw that. Just because there never were nor would there ever be, any Associates. Big Ron was this company.

“Morning Jenny.” Big Ron said cheerfully to his receptionist. “How’s my favorite employee?” He gave her a big smile and a quick wink.

“Fine, Ron.” Jenny responded in her typically beaming tone. “How was you weekend?”

“Perfect and it just kept going this morning.” He replied feeling very satisfied. “How about you? You and that boyfriend of yours do anything exciting?”

“Yeah, but I’ll have to tell you about it later. Your nine o’clock is here.”

“What?” Ron said taken aback.

“Well, half your nine o’clock is here.” She said. Then more snidely she said. “It’s the witch.”

“Keep it down, Jenny. We don’t want to spoil this deal.” He cautioned. “What is she doing here, she’s always late.”

“Well, what ever it is, she’s pissed. She couldn’t believe you weren’t here yet.”

“Where is she?” Ron asked.

“In the conference room.”

“Okay, get me some coffee and bring it in, would you?” He asked as he worked to pull his thoughts together.

“It’s already in there with the breakfast tray.”

“Of course it is. How could I ever doubt you?”

Ron quickly walked to the conference room.

“Something must really be wrong.” He thought. “She usually keeps us waiting for at least a half hour.”

The door swung open and Vicki was seated at the mahogany conference table talking on her cell phone.

“…I don’t care.” She said into the phone as she waved Ron into the room. “I want it that way.” She said as she inhaled deeply on her cigarette.

“Who does this bitch think she is?” Ron thought. “Oh yeah, the client.” He told himself as he swallowed the words that wanted to come out.

“Look, just do it.” She said after a short pause and then she hung up. “Arrgggh, why can’t people just do as their told?” Ash flick. “Where have you been?”

“Traffic.” Ron managed to say without betraying his anger. Ron never let anything get in the way of business. This was a big deal and he wasn’t about to blow it by reacting badly. He was just going to suck it up and deal with this bitch.

“Whatever,” she said as she searched for an ashtray. “Don’t you have any ashtrays?

“Uh … this in a non-smoking building.” Ron replied. “Like every other building in Denver, you stupid bitch.” He thought as he grabbed a plate off of the breakfast tray. “Here use this.”

She frowned, took one more drag from her cigarette and reluctantly snuffed it out on the plate Ron offered.

“Well, what are you going to do about this environmental group that is trying to prevent development in the Vail Valley?”

“What?” Ron responded testily.

“You haven’t heard? Isn’t this your business? Aren’t you the expert?”

“Yes, but this is the first…”

“The first you heard?” She interrupted. “What the hell am I paying you for? I am telling you this?”

“First off, I know my job. Secondly, what’s the big deal?”

“The big deal? Are you serious?” She asked angrily. “This deal has to go through. I’ve been doing everything I can to seal this deal, including fucking that douche bag. I don’t want it to sour now.” She shrieked.

“Look, calm down. First, keep your mouth shut. You know the moron doesn’t watch the news or read the paper, so he doesn’t know anything. Thank God I was busy this weekend and I don’t know anything. If I don’t know anything, I don’t have to tell my client anything. All we have to do is sign the papers and everything is set. So, if you just shut up for the next half hour everything will be fine. You think you can do that?”

“Well, what about the …”

“I said shut up and I meant it. If you tell me any more, I’ll have to inform my client and that will sour the deal – got it.”

“But …”

“Vicki, shut the fuck up!” Ron said as he slapped the table for emphasis.

That got her attention. Stung by the sharp noise, it took her a moment to react. She opened her mouth to speak, but decided not to when she looked into Ron’s eyes and saw the fury burning. It turned out to be a very wise decision as the door opened ten seconds later and Mr. Trust-Fund walked in the door.

“Morning all, you ready to sell some Real Estate?”

“Course we are.” Ron said as he turned to Vicki and smiled.

Vicki met his smile and nodded her head. Then she looked at Mr. Trust-Fund and gave him a very sultry smile and said,

“Of course, honey.” She cooed. “You just sit right down next to me.”

“Jesus Christ.” Ron thought as her witnessed her instant transformation. “She’s Frightening, but she is going to make me a bunch of money.”


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Copyright (c) 2006 Paul Gavin. All rights reserved.

Monday, February 20, 2006

Trouble with Chapter 15

Unfortunately, Chapter 15 is not going to write itself. Last night, I gave it specific instructions to do so and it just did not listen. It is almost done and I should be able to post it tomorrow night.

One thing I have been tossing around. Do I really need the Annie character? I had planned to work a relationship between Annie and Ronnie, but I am not sure if I need that in the whole scheme of things. The drawback to writing her out is that I would have to go back and rewrite all the chapters where she appears. I will have to mull on that for awhile. I want the restaurant scenes to stick around and I have a few more of them.

A couple of other things about the story so far. I really think you are going to like where I am going with the wholes Anita Sanchez thing. If you ever read Progressing Rapidly Over Uneven Terrain, you may be able to draw some parallel characteristics between Anita and one of my favorites in that book.

Also, I like Ronnie and I want to get into his head, but I don't want this to be too introspective. I trust you'll let me know if I do.


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Copyright (c) 2006 Paul Gavin. All rights reserved.

New look

So, what do you think of the new look? I wasn't happy with the other template. This one seems to fit the material a little better. Additionally, I changed the google format. It is a new Adsense format and I moved the search box.


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Copyright (c) 2006 Paul Gavin. All rights reserved.

Sunday, February 19, 2006

A bit on reading blogs

Following my own advice, I have been out reading blogs. The variety of blogs is truly impressive. A few things I have noticed:

*From what I have seen, about 50/50 split of English vs non-English language blogs
*Most blogs are from North American, Asia and Australia. Not many European or South American. I have only seen one African blog.
*Pictures of Che Guevera.
*Openly racists blogs.
*Blogs of very Christian people.
*Very artistic blogs.
*Other writer's blogs.
*Diaries.
*Very sad people.
*People bragging about getting loaded.

It is pretty entertaining. I leave comments when I think it's appropriate, especially if I like the blog. It's a cool community, I like being part of it.


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Copyright (c) 2006 Paul Gavin. All rights reserved.

The zone

My head is electric with ideas. Ideas for story lines, ideas for characters, ideas for presentation formats. This is what writing is all about for me. Yes, I have entered my zone where nothing else matters. I have vivid images racing through my brain so quickly that I cannot type fast enough to capture everything. Yeah, I am in the zone, the writing zone.

It is a complete, all encompassing adrenaline rush that makes me want to keep writing to the exclusion of other things in my life. But it is a hobby and I like to think I am good at it. But it is more than that. It is almost a game, where I try to engage others to read the thoughts that I have and see if I can get my readers to react. All reactions are welcome, except one. The one thing I fear more than anything. Actually, the only thing I actually fear. The fear is almost palatable. I feel it every time I press the "Publish Post" button in this editor. It is, of course, no reaction at all. Being hit with the "ho-hum, why should I read this anyway" reaction.

I really have no idea why I write. It is more than some thing to do to kill the time. But I do know exactly why I publish. It is because I want people to feel. I want people to think. All the material I create is intended to get my readers to think beyond themselves. To really look at other people and try to instill some empathy for my characters in the reader.

If I succeed in communicating my message, fantastic. If I don't, well I can't stop writing. Therefore, I can't stop publishing. Maybe I'll get to one of you. Maybe it will be ten. Who knows?


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Copyright (c) 2006 Paul Gavin. All rights reserved.

Saturday, February 18, 2006

The Break - Chapter 14

Chapter 14

The phone rang again. It was the eleventh time this morning and it wasn’t even 9:30. Anita did not want to talk to anyone right now. She was so angry that she actually had a bitter taste in her mouth.

Since she lost her job two months ago, she had not left her apartment. In fact, she had barely gotten out of bed. Her fashionable Lodo loft looked more like a flop house than an upscale residence. There were takeout containers strewn across the kitchen and dining room. A few cartons from Chinese take out even made it into the bedroom.

She felt awful. After over sixty days of junk food and excessive sleep, he body felt bloated and weak. Her typical day had been lying I bed occasionally punctuated by eating food delivered from a randomly selected restaurant.

The first time she walked in after Cord had fired her, she expected to have some sympathetic messages on her answer machine. But no lights were blink. She assumed that some of her friends would come by to lift her spirits and tell her things would be okay. No one had stopped by for a visit.

In fact, nothing happened at all. It was like she had dropped off the face of the earth. She thought about calling her mother or one of her three sisters, but she just couldn’t force herself to do it. It had been so ugly when she left New Mexico for her anchor position in Denver. They were jealous of course. She may have been a little full of herself, but she vowed that she would never speak to any of them again until they apologized for their unforgivable behavior.

After its six-week hiatus, the phone began ringing. At this point, Anita was so bruised from the complete isolation she had fallen into that she was unable to answer the phone even if she had wanted to. It rang twenty or thirty times a day, but by the third day, Anita didn’t even notice.

The darkness that encompassed her was almost complete. It was so prevalent that Anita had no idea what day of the week it was let alone what date it was. To her, it seemed as if she had only been in the apartment for a week or so.

Suddenly, two thoughts ran through Anita’s mind. First, the phone was very annoying. Second, she was angry. It was something new. Something else was different as well. There was light in the room and she heard movement in the kitchen.

Tentatively, she crept out of bed and walk to the door. Peeking through the door, she saw a familiar shape quickly picking up containers and placing them in a large trash bag.

“Mom?” Anita asked as she rubbed her eyes as if it would rub away the apparition standing in front of her.

“Close.” Said the woman as she turned to face Anita.

“Elena?” Anita managed completely shocked to see her older sister standing in her kitchen. “What … how …?

“Shush, Nitti.” Elena started in a matronly tone. “I came to Denver to help my Jorge’s sister have her baby. I watched your news program and when I didn’t see you, I called the station. They told me you don’t work there any more.”

As she explained, Elena continued picking up the refuse that littered the kitchen. Her mouth curled up in disgust, but her eyes betrayed her concern for her younger sister.

“I called a couple of times.” Elena continued. “When you didn’t return my call after three days, I decide to come over.”

Elena picked up a towel, sniffed at it, briefly considered it and then threw it in the trash.

“Looks like a good thing I did.” She said firmly.

“Uh…what…” Anita started. “I mean, how long have you been here?”

“Long enough to know that you need me.” Elena said tenderly. “I was still a little angry with you for ignoring the family. I thought you were just blowing me off. But when I came in and saw … this.”

She waved her arm around to illustrate that she was talking about the whole apartment.

“All I could think was my poor Nitti, what has happened to you.” Elena said as tears welled in her eyes.”

Seeing the tears form in her sister’s eyes was too much for Anita. She simply ran to her sister and fell into her open arms. The hug lasted for what seemed to be an eternity. The five years of familiar isolation melted in the warmth of the loving hug that can only be transferred by individuals that share common parentage. Anita became aware that the almost animalistic sound which was assaulting her ears was actually the sound of her sobbing.

For the first time in months, she let go. All of it. All of the days of pain, isolation, self-loathing and self-doubt poured out in a torrent of tears and snot. As she became aware of the sound, she felt herself calming. The sobs that moments ago wracked her body had subsided to gulps of air. Soon, she caught her breath and backed away from her sister.

“I am so glad you are here, Elena.” Anita said. “I’ve just been so …”

“I know, honey.” Elena interrupted. “Can you sit? Tell me?”

“Yes, I think I can.” Anita said.

They turned, walked into the living room and sat down on the luxurious, leather, Restoration Hardware supplied couch. Anita told her sister everything about the night of the explosion, the unprofessional performance of her co-worker, the ugly scene with Jim and finally, Cord firing her for some obscure reason.

“He probably felt threatened by a strong woman.” Anita said with finality as if the words would end the subject.

“Nitti, you know I don’t know anything about your … this … profession.” Elena spat the final word out as if it were poisonous. “But it doesn’t sound like that’s everything.”

“I swear Lena, that’s what happened.” Anita said solemnly.

“I wish I’d of seen it.” Elena said.

Pausing for a moment, Anita thought.

“Hey, they gave me a tape when I left.” Anita said. “Cord said something like ‘In case you ever have any doubt why I made this decision.’ Whatever that means.”

“Let’s look at it.” Elena suggested.

Anita got up, searched through the mess and found the tape. She walked directly to the entertainment center. Opening the cabinet, she flicked on the power switch for the TV and VCR. Quickly, she put in the tap, pressed play and rejoined her sister on the couch.

“Oh my god, Nitti are you …” Elena said as the conversation with Bobbie played out in front of them.

“Smiling? Smiling like a ghoul.” She asked dejectedly. “Yes, I am. I am …” Her voice trailed off. She sat mute for the rest of the tape.

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For the first time in an eternity Frankie felt something. It was a strange feeling, one that he couldn’t quite place. It had been buried for so long. As he struggled to identify the feeling, it came to him – he felt ALIVE. There he was, sitting in a bar in Saigon, freshly showered, one day and a wake up from heading back to the world.

“I fuckin’-A made it.” He said out loud to no one in particular.

“Bedda knock on wood, mutha-fucker.” An anonymous voice replied.

“Shit, was that out loud.” Frankie thought. “Can’t believe I thought that, let alone said it out loud.”

Frankie had spent the better part of the last three hundred sixty three days slogging through the shit, keeping himself alive. He knew better than to jinx himself like that – way better.

“Fuck me.” He thought as he laid down a nervous staccato rap on the wooden table in front of him.”

“Shit man, I’s just fuckin’ witcha, man.” Continued the voice. “Don’t be lisnin to ole Skeebug about nuttin.”

Turning his face to the voice, Frankie saw the face of a battle hardened veteran. They were easy to spot.

“Second tour?” Frankie asked.

“Fourth.” Skeebug replied flatly as he slid effortlessly into the empty chair at Frankie’s table. “Guess I’s jus one gung ho mutha fucker, man.”

“That’s not it.” Frankie said knowingly.

Skeebug looked away and firmly rubbed his shaved head with his left hand.

“Ever been back ta the worl’, man?” Skeebug asked after an awkward pause.

“Nah, man.” Frankie replied. “But I just have one and a wake up.”

“I feel for ya, man.” Skeebug said as though he was talking to a relative of the deceased.

“Wha…” Frankie tried to say, but he was to taken aback to finish the word. “Why would you feel bad for me? I’m … I … am going home.”

“The worl’ ain’t the same no more, man.” Skeebug continued. “Why you think I’s here? Couldn’t handle it back there, man. I ain’t never goin’ back - never.

“Let me buy you a drink.” Frankie offered.

“Sure, coo’.” Skeebug replied.

The two continued talking and drinking for the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening. After the initial conversation, neither man brought it up again. They talked about music, politics and finally girls.

“Yo, you gots a woman back in the worl’, man?” Skeebug asked.

“No.” Frankie replied flatly.

Skeebug noticed the crestfallen look on Frankie’s face. He waited a moment for it to really sink in.

‘She-it, man. Das coo.” He continued. “Look, I knows this ho dat like the bang-bang. I mean, she fuckee-suckee long time. She good. Bes’of all, she clean.”

“Uh … I don’t know …” Frankie started.

“Shit, man.” Skeebug badgered. “You done said yosef that you ain’t gots no woman. And this honey is fine. I mean it.”

“Ah, all right man.” Frankie replied. “Guess I haven’t gotten laid in awhile.”

“Das ma boy.” Skeebug said cheerfully. “Fina up dat drink and les go, man. My balls feel like melons, man.”

The new friends got up and left the bar. Skeebug slung his arm over Frankie’s shoulder in a friendly manner. Almost as soon as they were on the street, Frankie began to feel odd. It felt as if all the energy was draining from his appendages. At the same time, Skeebug’s grasp tighten on his shoulder as if to steady him. The street lights seemed to blur in and out.

“Is coo, Frankie.” Skeebug’s words reverberated in Frankie’s head as if he had been sucked into a storm drain. “Keep walking. Skeebug will take care of everything.”

It occurred to Frankie that Skeebug’s words were spoken crisply, minus the country bumpkin accent.

“I said, keep walking soldier.” Skeebug’s voice commanded. “Do NOT fall behind.”

“Something very strange is going on…” Frankie slurred.


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Copyright (c) 2006 Paul Gavin. All rights reserved.

My BIG idea

Since I am fairly confident that I am not going to be the one that gets this produced, I am going to share with you my BIG Idea. At least this way, I can claim I can up with this idea first and have written proof that I did. By the way, I claim copyrights on this idea and by posting it I am not waiving any of my rights. No one may use this idea without my express consent.

The idea is to have a weekly, hour-long television show called "Bloggers". The main character will be based on me, of course. So, the plot line is that this 42 year-old guy starts blogging and he joins a blog site that has an interactive area. By blogging daily, he meets 5 other characters that have nothing in common except that they are daily visitors to the blogging site. Every week, the stories are about what the characters do in their real lives contrasted with what they blog. The characters vary in accuracy of blogging what is reality and what is online persona.

Is that an interesting show? I think so, bit anyone can come up with that idea. Here is the BIG part of the BIG idea.

The show producers - ideally this would be me - create the blog site for real. And the characters from the show actually blog all week, according to the show's script for the week. Here's the big hook - anyone that wants to can join the blog. Create their own blogs on the site, interact with the characters - here's the big one - every week the show incorporates one of the public bloggers into the script for the show.

Why would this be commercially viable you ask? Well, first the show would be good. Get it on a network and you pick up all the traditional sponsors. Then you charge $5 or $10 bucks a month for the public to join the blog. Then you sell advertising space on all the blogs.

See! This is a great idea. Interactive TV, combining television and the internet, this idea has it all. It really would work. I have ideas for the first six characters. I know what the web site should look like and what features should go on there. Now all I need is to figure out how to get someone at HDNet, CBS, NBC, ABC, Fox, UPN, or the WB to listen to the whole pitch.


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Copyright (c) 2006 Paul Gavin. All rights reserved.