Rusty

It has been so long since I allowed my fingers to glide effortlessly above my keyboard, that I have forgotten much of what I have told you about my recent adventures. I know how much you all rely on my witty banter to get you through your day, that I fellt I simply had to take a moment to amuse, bemuse or down right confuse you. Right now I find myself trapped in a parallel universe from which there seems to be no escape. It is ungodly hot and humid. The sun takes a heavy toll by incessantely burning down with the white hot intensity. Not even the shade provides any relief from the stickiness caused by gallons of water ingested through my pie hole only to ooze out of every pore - relentlessly. Some times it slows to beading a fine film over my entire body. But mostly, the sweat pours out of me in hot, salty steams. It blinds my eye and irrates my skin. At night when you would expect relief from the merciless sun, out come the bugs. They exhibit a savagery unknown in modern times. Their only goal is to take my flesh, micro bite at a time. The itching causes the bit openings to expand only to be invaded by the gallons of sweat that continues to flow freely from my body in spite of the darkness. OH MY GOD, I MUST BE IN HELL!!! Nope, it's just Florida... I gotta get my yankee ass has got to get home soon - real soon. More stories from Paul Gavin. Info on novels Paul Gavin's Storefront. Technorati Tags: Fiction, Online Book, Chapter, rebeleyeball, Paul Gavin IceRocket Tags: Fiction, Blook, Chapter, rebeleyeball Copyright (c) 2006 Paul Gavin. All rights reserved.

Stuck

I am completely unable to write. Things have been really weird lately and I have no desire to write about them. It must be because all the things that are going on are so personal that I really don't want to share them in an open forum. Writing has always been very therapeutic for me, but for some reason the events in my life are just too intense for me to talk about. In the past, I have been able to write allegories to what my real feelings were without revealing the true issues. This is something that may take awhile to bubble to the surface. Being me, I have been trying to use my best defense against stress which is humor. But instead of being non-threatening, it has come out very biting and cruel. It’s just not me. Maybe that's why I have been not able to write. There is no humor inside. It is as if I can't get in touch with the lighter side. Not to worry, I am confident that I will recapture the magic soon. Please my whining and I promise I'll be back with a vengeance. I keep repeating the what my father use to tell me when times were tough - keep smiling, stay positive, never, ever quit and things will work out for the best eventually. More stories from Paul Gavin. Info on novels Paul Gavin's Storefront. Technorati Tags: Fiction, Online Book, Chapter, rebeleyeball, Paul Gavin IceRocket Tags: Fiction, Blook, Chapter, rebeleyeball Copyright (c) 2006 Paul Gavin. All rights reserved.

The spring sale is over

In order to stimulate sales of Web Site, I had advertised a "Spring Sale". I thought I had a pretty pleasing display that included the new front cover and the new title. Although I did get many new visitors to the lulu site, sales were very disappointing. After five months of slogging away trying to build traffic to my site, I have come to a decision point. I love writing. Even more, I love telling stories. My plan is to continue to do so. But I think my marketing days are over. I am not going to attempt any further actions to become a commercial success. Do not dispair, I will keep blogging and posting new chapters of The Break. I am pretty sure that my readers out there that take the time to read my material actually enjoy it. Therefore I will continue to publish it in a public forum. It is still undecided if I will continue to write kooky emails to people I don't know. As always if I do, I will post them here. More stories from Paul Gavin. Info on novels Paul Gavin's Storefront. Technorati Tags: Fiction, Online Book, Chapter, rebeleyeball, Paul Gavin IceRocket Tags: Fiction, Blook, Chapter, rebeleyeball Copyright (c) 2006 Paul Gavin. All rights reserved.

The Break - Chapter 37

Chapter 37 After last night in Vancouver, Randy thought that he had seen the best of Ratdick. As decided last night, tonight’s show in Surrey was the first show that Storm Damage took the stage first. Once again they delivered a fairly wooden performance and even though they were still officially the headliners, they only played for an hour. The boys didn’t mind. In fact, they just started the third hour their show and they showed no signs of slowing down. The last ten months on the road had really seasoned the boys. No wonder their shows were selling out. It could explain the increased record sales. That was unlikely since they cut the record prior to the tour and although it was a solid album, it was an extremely pale comparison to a live performance. Standing in the wings, Randy felt himself being sucked into the music again. He fought the urge the best he could. It was true that he had been a casual fan of the band since the first time he saw them play. But this was completely different. Now, he loved listening to them play and that made it very hard to maintain his objectivity about the band. Randy made a mental note. they had to get a live recording of one of these shows released as soon as possible. At this point, Randy was so giddy about the band’s performance both on stage and at the cash register, that he decided he wouldn’t even fight Ronnie in negotiations. They were simply so good that money was not going to be an issue. He knew it, Ronnie knew it, so why play the game. The thought quickly faded as Randy began watching Ronnie. There was no doubt that Ronnie was talented, but he also projected an amazing stage presence. It was as if everything about him was greater than the sum of the parts. He was a talented guitarists and his voice was strong. But really it was the blend of those along with his ability to understand how music fit and to actually make it happen. Additionally, it seemed as if each note he sang was released from every pore of his body as if he was expelling his soul out of his body. His throat was not a large enough conduit to allow passage of the all the feeling he was able to pack into his lyrics. As Randy stood and watched he could see it, but he was more interested in watching the crowd. Even from this distance, he could see the glazed look in the eyes of the audience. It was as if they were completely mesmerized by Ronnie. Just as he felt himself falling under the same spell, his attention was yanked to the other side of the stage. Pete kicked in with a screaming guitar lick that threatened to slice through the fragile membrane of the inner ear and scramble the brain of the listener. But Pete knew exactly how to, and more importantly exactly when to , bend the note back. When he did this, the euphoric effect to the listener could be attributed equally to the beauty of the note and to the relief from the sonic assault. In progressive songs, he would push farther each time. Bring the audience to an ever greater brink, but pulling them back before they fell of the edge of the emotional precipice. The combination of the two, Ronnie and Pete could only have one result. That was to whip the crowd in to a frenzied pack of dancing lunatics. If the band consisted of just the two front men, they would be good. But what made them great was the fact the Ben and Ass laid down a driving consistent rhythm that seem to enclose the audience in an electronic wall of sound. Watching the crowd, Randy thought the stage served as the seawall to prevent the breaking waves of human from flooding the boys. Then he thought he saw something interesting. It seemed that as Pete and Ronnie propelled the crowd forward, they also extracted a heavy toll measured in gallons of sweat, cups of tears and even ounces of blood. It was physically impossible for a person to maintain the high level of energy output demanded by the music. That resulted in the wave like activity with those ebbing in energy moving forward and those that had driven them selves to the edge of exhaustion flowed toward the back. The interesting thing was when the weary minions finally made it to the back, it appeared as if they had backed into an electric fence. The jolt they received hey were once again propelled forward into the fray. Not only did they go willingly, they went with renewed vigor from the brief respite of not expending any energy for the previous few minutes. The rest of the crowd had pulled them out, the urgency of the music threw them back. There were a few warriors in the crowd that could match the stamina of the boys in the band, but even they had their limits. The only reason Ronnie, Pete, Ben and Ass could continue was because they only had their instruments to battle, not several thousand pounds of sweaty human flesh. Finally, the boys quit playing. Ever since the first show they played at Ecks Saloon, they ended their shows in the same manner. In unison, they would just stop playing and exit the stage without saying a word. It was uncanny how they were all able to stop at the exact same moment as though they all knew they had completed their mission. There was never any rhyme or reason to why they quit. It didn’t matter how many songs they had played or even if they were finished the song. When they were done, they were all done. Each time, an eerie uneasiness fell upon the audience. Stunned, they weren’t sure what to do. Soon, however, the result was a hurricane force demand for an encore. They boys always delivered. In addition to whipping the crowd into a frenzy for the encore, the dead silence also allowed the boys to hear individual voices in the crowd. The sudden ending had been Pete’s idea. He always thought it would help him identify who he would hook up with after the show. This particular evening, the loudest voice was not yelling for Pete. “Ronnie.” A woman’s voice called out and then continued very insistently. “Ronnie! RONNIE!” Searching the crowd, Ronnie saw the woman calling his name. She was a little taller than average, he could tell because she stood out in the crowd. Although she looked vaguely familiar, he could place the face. Her hair was stringy and matted in clumps in some places. “Ronnie, it’s me.” She screamed when they made eye contact. “Cindy.” Ronnie was taken completely by surprise. As soon as he heard the name, he knew it was his cousin Cindy. It had been years since the last time he saw her. She was almost ten years older than him. But the woman he saw in front of him looked much older than her early thirties. Even though she looked a wreck, Ronnie was excited to see her. “I’ll get you back stage.” He said. “Cool, cuz”” She responded. After finishing the encore, the boys filed down the skinny hallway towards the dressing room. They could hearing a woman’s voice speaking very loudly. “…and we were soooo fucked up.” Cindy’s voice said. Ronnie swung the door open and instantly knew that inviting her back stage had been a mistake. The tension in the air was as thick as a stage curtain. Annie and Chelsea were seated with their arms crossed tightly across their chest. The legs were crossed just as tightly. But one look at either of their burning stares and it was very apparent what they thought of this drunken interloper. Emily, on the other hand, was attempting to humor Cindy by pretending to listen to her story. As soon as the boys appeared, Emily abandoned her attempt and joined the other girls on the couch. “Hey, Ronnie.” Cindy slurred. “Gimme a hug, cuz.” Ronnie hugged her, but tried to extract himself as quickly as possible. The stench was overpowering. It was as if she hadn’t bathed or engaged in any type of hygienic activity in months. When Ronnie broke free, Cindy caught site of Pete. “My little Petey.” Cindy said as she embraced him. Pete tried to recoil from the hug, but before he could Cindy kissed him hard on the mouth. When she attempted to stick her tongue in his mouth, he pulled his head away quickly and pushed her back. “Is that any way to treat your mama?” Cindy asked. Turning to the girls on the couch, she added. “That’s what I used to make him call me when he was fucking me.” The words hit Chelsea like a slap in the face. She could believe that Pete would have anything to do with some one like Cindy, even if she was his cousin. “Ease up there, cuz.” Ronnie said soothingly seeing Chelsea’s reaction he knew he had to get her out of here as quickly as possible. “What are you doing here?” “Didn’t you hear?” Cindy explained. “I had a little trouble with the man…good ole Uncle Sam, ya know. So, I’m Canadian now.” “Well, it’s was good seeing you.” Ronnie said trying to wrap this up before any happened. “Oh, Ronnie. So sweet.” Cindy said. “So where are all the drugs? These bitches said you don’t have any around. I don’t believe it. Isn’t this all sex, drugs and rock-n-roll?” Not being too thrilled about being called a bitch, Chelsea was about to say something. One look from Pete told her to let Ronnie handle this one. “For us, it’s rock-n-roll.” Ronnie replied. “If I know Petey, it’s sex too.” Cindy continued. “Look at this fine little groupie he found himself. Hell, I’d even do her…for fifty.” Ronnie saw the look in Chelsea’s eyes. He knew she wasn’t going to take even comment like that without saying something. He simply had to get Cindy out of the room. “Look, Cindy …” Ronnie started. Just then the door swung open and Big Ron and Randy walked through. As soon as Big Ron saw Cindy, the smile vanished from his face. Ronnie could not recall ever seeing such a look of pure hatred on his father’s face. Cindy turned as saw Big Ron and came to a complete stop. “Hey, Uncle Ron …” Cindy said. “Get the fuck out of here.” Big Ron commanded. “Dad …” Ronnie started. “Stay out of this Ronnie.” Big Ron cautioned. “Cindy, get out. Now.” “At least give me a couple hundred Uncle Ron.” Cindy pled. “I know you got it.” Big Ron was doing all he could to not pick Cindy up and throw her out. “No, out.” Big Ron stated flatly. “Ronnie? Pete? Aren’t you going to say something?” She asked feebly. There was an uncomfortable silence, but it only lasted for a moment. Big Ron was not going to hold back much longer. “Cindy, last chance.” Ron said determined. “Well, fuck all y’all.” Cindy said. With that, she was gone. After a long pause, Ronnie finally found his voice. “Wasn’t that a little harsh, Dad?” Ronnie asked. “She’s pretty annoying, but she is your niece.” “Not any more.” Ron stated. “What?” Ronnie asked completely confused. “What happened?” Big Ron looked at Ronnie for a long moment and then decided he might as well tell him. “She’s been a junkie for years.” Big Ron started. “Both her father and I bailed her ass out of trouble so many times, I can’t even remember all of them. She was in and out of rehab half a dozen times. The last time I saw was right after she and he drug dealer boyfriend kidnapped you and Pete.” “What?” Ronnie and Pete asked simultaneously. “Well, Pete’s dad and I agreed that there was no reason to tell you at the time.” Big Ron started. “But yeah, the last time you saw Cindy, when you went camping with her. You were actually kidnapped. She and her low-life boyfriend were keeping you and threatening to kill you unless we came up with a million bucks.” “Come on.” Ronnie said. “They couldn’t have been serious. They were just messing with you to see if you’d give them the money. They wouldn’t have hurt us.” Big Ron paused for a moment trying to decide how to respond. There was really only one thing to say. “Well, that’s what we thought until the cops told us who her boyfriend was.” Big Ron said. “Then when the cops closed in at the ransom drop, he pulled out a couple automatic weapons and killed a coupla cops and wounded several others before they dropped him. As soon as Cindy heard, she took off leaving you guys out in the middle of nowhere with no way home.” Ronnie thought back on the weekend that he and Pete went camping. They were thirteen years old and his cool cousin invited them to go camping. He remembered that she told them she had already checked it out with Big Ron and Pete’s Dad. They started the weekend end by smoking pot. It was the first time Ronnie and Pete had tried smoking. “Holy shit.” Ronnie said. “No doubt.” Pete agreed. “I might have been able to forgive her, if we didn’t know what she did to Pete.” Big Ron explained. “Did to me? Pete had his own memories. In addition to smoking pot for the first time, it was also the first time he had sex. Cindy taught him a great deal on that camping trip or at least that’s the way he had always thought about it. “Pete, I don’t think this is the best time or place to talk about this.” Ron said gently. “What?” Pete asked. “There’s nothing wrong with what happened. She and I had sex, so what?” “Pete, really, I don’t think we should discuss this now.” Big Ron counseled. Pete felt his anger burning, but he was quite sure why. All he knew is he wanted to talk about this and he wanted to talk about it now. “I don’t have any problems with it, why should you?” He asked Big Ron a bit too aggressively. “Pete, she was twenty-three, you were thirteen.” Big Ron explained. Still Pete couldn’t see an issue. Why would his dad and Big Ron be upset that he had sex? “Yeah, so.” “Imagine if the guy was twenty-three and he had sex with a thirteen year old girl.” Big Ron continued trying to make his point. “What would you say then?” “That’s just sick.” Pete said. “Exactly.” Big Ron responded. “Same thing, she molested you and then took off. Looks like she went to Canada.” Pete was completed stunned. For the first time he could remember, he didn’t have a snappy come back. He had always thought it was cool that he had lost his virginity so younger to a much older woman. It never occurred to him that it was wrong. The room remained silent for a very long time. Ronnie did not want to believe what his father had told him. But it did make sense. Cindy had never taken him any where prior to that weekend. Then it occurred to him that her boyfriend was very edgy and looked at him with venom in his eyes. Whenever Ronnie thought about it, he had always written it off as his being a young boy being unreasonably afraid of an older man. Finally, Big Ron broke the silence. “Look, guys.” He started. “This all happened a long time ago. I know it comes as a shock, but it is in the past. Let’s not let her ruin a perfectly good post show party. Right, Randy?” “Uh…exactly.” He said trying to act as if he wasn’t surprised. “Let’s do a little celebrating.” Randy paused for a moment, then he remembered the news. “By the way.” He chipped in. “The record company is … actually, I want to talk to you guys about a multi-record deal.” “Awesome.” Ass said elated. “That’s great news.” Ronnie wished that he had been so enthusiastic in his response. The look on his face did not go unnoticed. “Look, Ronnie.” Randy said. “I know I tried to hardball you in the past. But after coming here and seeing you guys for the last two nights, I know you are not going to be one hit wonders. You are going to make me a bunch of money regardless of how we structure the deal. I see you guys as long-term partners. You keep making music like that and I’ll making all of us money, deal.” “Deal.” Ronnie said. “Deal.” seconded Ass and Ben simultaneously. “Good deal.” Big Ron added. Looking over to Pete, Ronnie saw he was deep in thought and missed the whole conversation. “Pete.” He asked. “What do you think.” “Yeah, sure.” He said without really being aware that he was speaking. “Whatever.” Ronnie wondered what was eating Pete. But he was too happy to think about investigating the topic any further right now. There would be time to talk to Pete tomorrow. <<< Chapter 36 Chapter 38 >>> More stories from Paul Gavin. Info on novels Paul Gavin's Storefront. Technorati Tags: Fiction, Online Book, Chapter, rebeleyeball, Paul Gavin IceRocket Tags: Fiction, Blook, Chapter, rebeleyeball Copyright (c) 2006 Paul Gavin. All rights reserved.

Ah, vacation

What a glorious word - vacation! It's just eight insignificant letters, but when arranged in the proper order those tiny little letters can actually spell out - joy, happiness, relaxation, recharge and refreshing. Oh what a wonderfully magical word. I am refreshed, I am relaxed, I am happy and full of joy. Of course, I am just a tiny bit sad. Why you ask, because my glorious vacation has come to an end. It's back to the old salt mines for this wannabe. Oh if I could only catch a break and have my something purchased by a big hollywood conglomerate, every day would be a vacation. You think I am thinking the grass is greener on the other side of the fence. You think that if I actually had to write everyday to feed my greedy face. You say I am a no talent hack. Well, whatever, I could care less. See I am willing to give it a whirl. Let me see what it would be like. Gimme a shot - one shot and I'll make the best of it. I mean it. No, really. Wow, that was fun. If you have been waiting, I'll have Chapter 37 of The Break posted by Saturday. I'm glad to be back...until my next vacation. More stories from Paul Gavin. Info on novels Paul Gavin's Storefront. Technorati Tags: Fiction, Online Book, Chapter, rebeleyeball, Paul Gavin IceRocket Tags: Fiction, Blook, Chapter, rebeleyeball Copyright (c) 2006 Paul Gavin. All rights reserved.

High School Reunion

This year is the 25th anniversary of my high school graduation. To commemorate this amzingly mediorce achievement, the class officers have planned a reunion. Unfortunately due to personal circumstances, I will be unable to attend. In lieu of my presence, I decided to put my bio out on Classmates.com. False modesty aside, I think it's pretty good. Here it is for your reading pleasure: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Well, after Justine read my bio she IM'd me and encouraged me to tell the truth about my life. So Justine, this is for you. As you may know, I moved to Spokane, WA in the middle of our senior year. Instead of forgiving my parents after 20 years, I think I'll wait awhile longer. Just kidding, if it wasn't for that move I wouldn't be who I am today. Which is, of course, an overweight ex-jock with severe chemical dependencies and no hope of ever climbing out of the slimy hole I dug for myself. It all started when I first walked into the football locker room at Washington State University. You may remember that I was a small wisp of a child, but I had heart and that is why they allowed me to walk on at WSU. During my freshman year, I discover the potential of steroids. By my sophomore year I was 6'2", 290. I made the starting squad, anchoring the best offense line ever to play at the college level. You might think that being the third person selected in the 1985 NFL draft would have gone straight to my head. Well, it did. For my entire twelve year NFL career, it was all booze and ladies and of course steroids and HGH. After awhile, the ladies part fell off do to my shrunken manhood. Suffice it to say, I'm half the man I used to be. But I was still happy. I mean who wouldn't be with nine super bowl rings. Once I let go of football after my emotional "good-bye" tour during the 1997 season, things got a little rough. But that only last a few months before I landed the gig as the lead singer for Van Halen. Although it was a brief stint, one album, one tour, it was the best five months of my life. I have spent the last eight years trying to recapture that brief moment of glory. Now I sit around in my uniform of boxers and a wife beater drinking beer by the case, smoking crank, watching tapes of super bowls and listening to that sweet platinum record that Eddie, Mike, Alex and I managed to create in a marathon 12 day nonstop recording session. Man, I miss those days. I really thought those days would last forever. Damn you Sammy Hagar for coming back. He walked in the studio one day and said "I'm back". And there I was, turned out like a $3 dollar whore. Most days, I roll out of bed around noon and curse the fact that my eyes opened to greet another dismal, disappointing day. My five ex-wives and 17 children hate my guts and took all the money I didn't manage to squander on sex, drugs and rock-n-roll. I fat, broke, stupid and lazy. All I can do is yearn for the days when rapid fans would scream my name. And you wonder why I am not going to show up at the reunion. Please. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Of course none of that is true, but how sad if it actually was? More stories from Paul Gavin. Info on novels Paul Gavin's Storefront. Technorati Tags: Fiction, Online Book, Chapter, rebeleyeball, Paul Gavin IceRocket Tags: Fiction, Blook, Chapter, rebeleyeball Copyright (c) 2006 Paul Gavin. All rights reserved.

Brittany Spears is a freaking genius

The other day I read a quote from Brittany Spears that went something like "Anyone can write an artsy song, pop music is hard". Now it would be easy to dismiss this prolific breeding diva as just another dumb blond. But I think that would be a mistake. Why, you ask? That's a good question and I am glad you asked it because I would really like to answer. Actually, I have nothing else to write about so this is what you get. Let's look at this statement closely. We'll break it down. First, we will look at the second part of the sentence. You think I should go in order? Well, no - I don't want to I would like to dissect this sentence in the manner in which I choose. My post, my ordering. "pop music is hard" - look at it. Could this be a true statement? I think it is. Think of how hard it would be to come up with songs that everyone likes. Pop music is is elegant in it's simplicity. Basic cords, basic rhythyms, repeatative lyrics - anyone could write it. You really think so? Look at the record industry. It is a business, a huge business. If anyone could just crank out the "pop" songs don't you think they would? Wait a minute, that is what they do. What the hell am I talking about? Brittany Spears isn't a genius. Well, at least I don't know that she is a genius. I mean she sould have scored 1540 on her SATs. How should I now, I'm not privvy to that kind of info. But if that one snippet from her mouth is an indication of her intelligence...well, my mother told me if you don't have something nice to say ... However, the first part of what she said happens to be true. Anyone can write artsy stuff, right. Then if it judged as crap, the listener just didn't get it. Since any art is subjective, it is easy to say the material was above the audience or that it was ahead of it's time. The argument to this is that if it is actually "good" it will sell. Anyone confused? If you would indulge me, for the rest of the conversation today I would like to extend this statement to include art in all media. If "pop art" is churned out on a daily basis from art "factories" and anyone can create "art", then how do you know what is good. See the conundrum. If it's good, it sells. If it sells well, it sucks? Was Pink Floyd's "Dark Side of the Moon" the best album created in the seventies? Or did it suck because it stayed on the charts so long? Are Van Gogh's crap since they didn't sell in his life time? Were the Beattles any good? Is Nirvana better than Pearl Jam because they were first? What is an acceptable level of sales? Does everything that really sells well turn into a MacDonald's cheeseburger? Or can something that has real artistic merit maintain it's integrity if when it starts selling? Personally, I think so. In my mind it is very easy to separate the wheat from the chaff. All you have to do is shift though it and pay attention. It's not just a matter of personal preference either. Although I can appreciate the musicianship of jazz players, it does nothing for me. It is very apparent that I just don't get it. Still, I can still tell good jazz from bad jazz. Lately, even though I don't really enjoy it, I have developed a high level of respect for rap music - good rap music. Yes, there is such a thing. You would know it if you ever took the time to appreciate it as an art form. Okay, no rap appreciation homework for you, unless you really want to. If you can't stand it, just trust me, there are people doing amazing things in this media. Now that is circuitous route to get to the point of my little narrative. Point being, don’t discount seemingly dumb blonds. Their quasi-moronic statements can actually be thought provoking and get us to realize that done well, anything can be considered art. Additionally, I think we can see the inherent beauty in all forms regardless of whether or not they are to our liking. More stories from Paul Gavin. Info on novels Paul Gavin's Storefront. Technorati Tags: Fiction, Online Book, Chapter, rebeleyeball, Paul Gavin IceRocket Tags: Fiction, Blook, Chapter, rebeleyeball Copyright (c) 2006 Paul Gavin. All rights reserved.

Olbermann and Vonnegut

Maybe you saw this comment left by anonymous: At 8:39 PM, Anonymous said... I don't know how to tell you this, but Keith Olbermann has been back on ESPN Radio, appearing with Dan Patrick on his show, since last August. Writing him an e-mail at this point in time trying to flatter him by telling him "ESPN sucks--you made the right move" might not be the best way to get him to answer you. Now, some think I might be a little embarrassed by this obvious faux pas. Maybe feeling a little humbled by my lack of knowledge of the target of my email. But you know what, even if I should be ashamed of myself for being less than prepared when trying to get someone to notice me, I'm not. Not a single teeny, tiny bit. Care to know why? If you have been reading my stuff, you know there are several reasons for this. Mainly, because there is never just one reason for anything in my world. Aren't you glad? First, I stated in my email that I was less than familiar with his work. Although I did make it clear that I am not a regular viewer of "Countdown", I am entertained. Think I was pretty honest there. Second, I wasn't purposefully trying to flatter him by saying ESPN sucks. I was merely stating my uninformed opinion about an employer. Personally, I do believe that ESPN sucks, but I didn't say I didn't watch it. I do watch it when the game is on, but I cannot stand SportsCenter and what it has evolved to over the years. Baseball Tonight is decent, but still not really watchable on a regular basis. Maybe it's because I loved the concept of ESPN and I was a regular watcher - okay, I was a junkie - for over 20 years. It's changed and I don't like it. Ergo, I think ESPN sucks. Third, just because he is working there again doesn't mean it doesn't suck. Nor does it mean that he thinks it doesn't suck. Maybe he does, maybe he doesn't. Additionally, I haven't listened to sports talk radio since the early nineties. Forgive me if I don't know that he's back doing his thing with Dan Patrick - knock yourself out Mr. Olbermann. I salute you for returning to your roots. Personally, I think "anonymous" is actually Keith Obermann. Think about it - who else wwould bother leaving that comment. Just like all the others before, he is reading - you betcha he is. Enough of this revisionist history and on to something really exciting. Today I made a trip to Barnes and Noble where I made a very significant purchase. I purchased "Hocus Pocus" and "Player Piano" by Kurt Vonnegut. Already I have read half of "Hocus Pocus". I am absolutely amazed. Actually, being that I have already read "Hocus Pocus" should I say "I am absolutely re-amazed"? If I may, I would like to give you an example of something that hit me particularly hard. Here is a passage from page four of Kurt Vonnegut's "Hocus Pocus": "Perhaps the only precept that my Grandfather Wills that I have honored all my adult life is that profanity and obscenity entitle people who don't want unpleasant information to close their ears and eyes to you." Remember this is a work of fiction, so it is the character speaking not Kurt Vonnegut. Anyway, this hit amazingly close to home. If you happen to have read any of my work, you see that sometimes it seems that I go out of my way to use profanity and obscenity. It's like I want to take reality and rub it in peoples faces so the see the world for what it is, both it's ugliness and it's beauty. In my mind, it never occurred to me that if you show people a dog turd, they may just close their eyes and pretend it's not there despite it's malodorous insistence to the contrary. This work is unbelievably good. If you haven't read any Vonnegut, I urge you to do so. If you have, you may want to reread one or two of his works. It really is worth it. The story lines are excellent. But I must warn you, if you are reading it you have to pay attention. Much of the message is delivered very subtly. The amazing part is how he telegraphs the big stuff coming up. He lets you know several times in advance what to look for. Then it comes and you know exactly what it is and yet you are greatful to have finally read the official word. What am I doing typing, when I should be reading. More stories from Paul Gavin. Info on novels Paul Gavin's Storefront. Technorati Tags: Fiction, Online Book, Chapter, rebeleyeball, Paul Gavin IceRocket Tags: Fiction, Blook, Chapter, rebeleyeball Copyright (c) 2006 Paul Gavin. All rights reserved.

The Break - Chapter 36

Chapter 36 The afternoon cocktails had extended into the early evening. Elena was watching her sister closely. She knew it had been a very long time since Anita had a relationship with a man. Feeling that her sister was in a very vulnerable state, Elena was going to do her best to make sure that Anita didn’t get sucked in by this man. At least that is what she told herself. Every time Elena looked at Big Ron, she felt a twinge of lust in her loins. He was very handsome and she was sure that he was quite well endowed, unlike her Jorge. Although Jorge was the only man she had ever been with, Elena had talked with her friends. Even though Jorge had satisfied her throughout their marriage, she couldn’t help thinking that she was being short-changed. Now seeing this massive, attractive man in front her, Elena realized that it had a long time since she had been with a man. As she turned her full attention towards Ron, she began to wonder what it would be like to be with him. With the tequila lowering her inhibitions, she wondered what it would feel like to be totally full down there. Unconsciously, she slid her hand down between her legs. Abruptly, she be aware that she was rubbing herself. Looking over at Ron and Anita, she was relieved to she that they were so absorbed in their conversation, that neither noticed her personal moment. “So after they played Leno.” She heard Big Ron saying. “They had one more gig in LA the next day. Then we all flew to New York so they could do Lettermen the next week.” “Wow, Leno and Lettermen.” Anita responded. “That’s impressive for one week.” “I’m telling you, these boys were good, really good.” Big Ron said. Once again, Anita passed on a follow-up question. Eventually, she would ask what happened to the boys. She had an exclusive and she knew it. No since in rushing to something that could damper Ron’s willingness to share. Since she didn’t feel a great urgency to get to the whole story, she decided to let Big Ron go at his own pace. When it was critical for her to know, he would either tell her or she would asked. She was experienced enough to know when to push. “Which was better?” Anita asked genuinely curious. “Lettermen, hands down.” Big Ron responded without hesitation. Anita was surprised at his quick answer. Her assumption was that he would have to think about it. Suddenly, she realized that she was so busy staring at his beautiful blue eyes that she hadn’t responded. “Oh, really?” She said quickly. Her haste betrayed the fact that she was flustered by the long look. This did not go unnoticed by Big Ron. Old dogs never quit being dogs. He saw what he had been waiting for and he knew that he would be able to close the deal anytime. But right now he wanted to talk about the mess, as he had come to call the horrific explosion. Plus, it would be much better if he made her stew for a bit. If he built up the moment, they would both enjoy it much more than if he just pounced. Additionally, he had to get rid of the sister. “Why?” Anita managed weakly asked after another pause. It seemed as if Ron’s eyes were boring directly into her. She tried to rip her gaze away, but for some reason she could not. She felt like she was swimming in his eyes. The sensation was staggering. If she had been standing, she would have had to sit down. Right now, she felt her body responded physically. As the heat built in her, she could feel herself moistening as urges long ignored began to exert themselves on her. “Kind of a funny story about Lettermen.” Ron started without breaking eye contact. “Seems like the NBC censors were not happy with the name ‘Ratdick’, so they made told leno to introduce them as ‘Rat D’. The boys were pretty upset. But when it came down to that or not playing, they chose to play. Ron stopped and took a long draw on his scotch. Momentarily, he broke his gaze on Anita to look at Elena. She had a far off, dreamy look in her eyes. Big Ron dismissed it as the tequila. “So, Leno introduces them as ‘Rat D’.” Big Ron continued. “They play and everything is cool. When we get to New York, the CBS censors say the same thing.” Elena was trying to listen. But the combination of tequila, the soft leather couch, the warmth of the fire and Big Ron’s low monotone voice was beginning to take its toll on her. Her eyelids began to feel very heavy. “…and Dave said ‘Rat D’, that’s an interesting name.” Big Ron said. “So, Ronnie says, “Well that’s not actually the name of our band. They won’t let us say it on the air.”. So then Dave asked what the real name was. When Ronnie told him, he cracked up. “Now that’s a name for a rock band,” he says.” Elena was rapidly losing the fight. She knew if she didn’t get up right now, she would slip into a deep sleep. “Just one more minute, then I’ll get up.” She thought. Because Anita was intently listening to Ron, she didn’t notice her sister had dropped off to sleep. The story and Ron’s sparkling eyes were adding to her already heighten passion. “So, time comes for the show and Dave comes out and he gets to the part where he is telling the audience who is on the show. He says, “Great show tonight, ladies and gentlemen. We have lovely and talented and one of my favorite people, Ms. Drew Barrymore. And a new band called ‘Ratdick’. That’s right folks, ‘Ratdick’ is here tonight. ‘Ratdick’, ‘Ratdick’, ‘Ratdick’, ‘Ratdick’. Then he threw a pencil through the window.” “That’s hilarious.” Anita chuckled as she lightly placed her fingers on the back of Ron’s hand. “I guess that is the difference between Jay Leno and David Lettermen. Leno is so …” To Big Ron, that was the next sign in the progression. Glancing over at Elena, he was glad to see that asleep. It wouldn’t be long before he was sliding into something a little more comfortable, like Anita. “Exactly.” Big Ron agreed. “Leno’s not a bad guy, just a little less controversial, shall we say, than Dave.” Ron responded to Anita’s touch, by placing his hand on her leg just above the knee. Always looking for a reaction, he was glad to see that Anita didn’t move her leg or look away. “That’s not all.” Ron added. “After they were done, Dave walks over and says “Wow, I haven’t heard anything like that in years,” then Paul agrees. Finally, Dave says “Can you do another?” and they just played…and played. I think they played like six songs. The audience that didn’t care for it, got up and left. But Paul and his band kicked in on the last three songs. It was so cool. It really is amazing how much goes on with shows like that, that never appears on TV.” “We’re like that.” Anita added. The twinge was noticeable. Big Ron was sure it was caused by the realization that she wasn’t on TV any more. Ron watched as she finished her half glass of scotch with one big swallow. The sadness was apparent in her eyes when she returned her look to Big Ron. He simply took her glass from her hand, placed both glasses on the end table, stood up and reached out his hand. Anita took one glance at Elena to ensure she was sleeping and then took Big Ron’s offered hand, stood up and followed him up the stairs to the master bedroom. Once they were in the bedroom, Big Ron turned to face Anita. He looked deeply into her eyes. “I know exactly what you need right now.” He said softly. “You have to trust me, understand?” Anita just nodded her head in agreement. “Good.” Ron said authoritatively without being harsh. “You need to let yourself go, understand.” Once again, Anita nodded silently. “Look into my eyes.” Ron directed. “You know you can trust me.” Anita stared deeply into Ron’s eyes. She saw the softness behind the forcefulness. It was a unique combination that she wasn’t sure she had ever seen before. Usually, Anita struggled for control with her partners. In the past, she would not let a man dominate her in any way. Right now, tonight this felt right. She was going to do exactly what Big Ron told her to do without question. It was a liberating moment. She felt a surge of sexual excitement flow through her. All she wanted now is for Ron to touch her. Ron saw the look in her eyes and recognized it for what it was. She had decided to trust him. Now she wanted him to touch her, but he was not going to. Not yet, anyway. “Take off your clothes.” He ordered. Anita began to undress slowly, their eyes never breaking contact. She was naked to the waist when she unzipped her jeans. After she slid them over her hips, she let them fall to the floor. When she removed her underwear, she had to bend slightly which took her eyes off Big Ron. He took the opportunity to take his first glance at her naked body. He was very pleased with what he saw. But he didn’t have time to dwell right now as her eyes came back to his. They stood there for a moment wordlessly. Anita felt the fire burning inside her. Big Ron was already full aroused. “Unzip my pants.” He instructed. Without hesitation, Anita complied. “Reach in and take it out.” He continued. It took her a moment to liberate him from his boxers. When she finally pulled it out she was very impressed by how thick and long it was. Although she had been with several men over the years, she could not remember seeing anything this impressive. “Come closer.” Ron commanded gently. “Take it firmly in your hand and use it to rub yourself.” Instantly, Anita began using his member as a dildo. She rubbed it on the outside of herself. She felt the moisture on the inside of her legs. She wanted it inside her. As she began to move the head towards her wet opening, he stopped her. “Did I tell you to do that?” He questioned. “N-n-no.” She responded haltingly hoping she had not displeased him. Anita could not believe that she just had that thought. This was not her usual way of doing this. Tilting her head upwards, she looked into his eyes again. For some reason, it calmed and excited her. For some unknown reason, she was going to do exactly what he told her to do. “Kneel down.” He told her. “Now lick.” Once again, she complied wordlessly. “Now lay on the bed.” He commanded. “On your stomach.” Instantly, Anita climbed on to the king-sized bed and lay down on her stomach. Wonder what was going to happen next, she heard Big Ron undressing. Then she felt him join her on the bed. Soon she felt his strong, yet very soft hands massaging her back. It felt wonderful. He massaged her from head to toe. After what seemed to be a very long time, Anita felt as if she was on the edge of exploding. His hands touched her in the exact right place at the exact right time. She was very close to the edge, but not quite there. Big Ron took her arms and extended them over her hesd. Suddenly, she felt her self expanding to accept him inside her. As he slid into her, she felt the release. Moaning loudly in approval, she couldn’t believe how deeply he was inside her. And yet he kept pushing her. It stretched her to what felt like her capacity. When he was fully inside her, he paused and throbbed his penis over and over. Then as he slide out, he moaned. All Anita wanted him to do was put it back in, but he pulled himself completely out of her. He paused for what seemed to be an eternity. He continued this technique for several minutes. Keeping Anita on the edge, but not allowing her to orgasm. “Come on, Ron.” She said. “What?” He asked. “Do it.” Anita beseeched. “Please.” Ron began to thrust deeply and quickly. Her orgasm was instantaneous and very loud. Just as the first one ended, the second one started. Her third orgasm caused him to exploded inside her. They lay together, Ron still inside Anita. After a few moments they both felt him slide out. Anita rolled over and kissed Ron fully on the mouth. The continued to explore each other’s bodies until they were ready. They did it again, very aggressively with Anita on top. This time, she gave the orders and Ron willingly complied. Just before they both fell asleep, Anita propped herself up. “I am going to the guest room.” She declared. “Why?” Ron asked. “Cause Lena can be a little judgmental.” Anita explained. Ron didn’t really mind. He much preferred to sleep alone. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- They were all supposed to meet in the hotel lobby at three. The show started at seven and Ronnie liked arriving well before that. He insisted that the other members of the join him. As always, he was the first to arriving. He saw Pete walking across the lobby towards him. Pete never really had a well-kept appearance, but today he looked particularly bad. “Damn, dude.” Ronnie said as Pete approached. “What the hell you been doing?” “Fuckin’.” Pete replied. “What?” Ronnie asked. Pete flopped down on the sofa next to Ronnie. “Chelsea is an animal.” He replied. “We been fuckin’ since yesterday. I’m beat dude.” “Is that all you two do?” Ronnie asked. “Pretty much.” Pete responded. “Well. we get stoned and last night we actually went out for dinner.” “What do you guys talk about?” Ronnie continued questioning. “Fuckin’.” Pete said. Ronnie turned to look at Pete to see if he was joking. But he could tell by the look on his face that he wasn’t. Ronnie looked at his band mate in disbelief. All the years he knew him, Pete had always been looking for women. He had never known him to have a girlfriend. In fact, he could not remember him going out with the same girl more than twice. “What’s with this girl?” Ronnie asked. “You never hang with one chick this long. Not that I think that would be a problem.” “She’s amazing in bed.” Pete said. “Do you know anything about her?” Ronnie asked. “She’s amazing in bed.” Pete said. “Jeez dude, I mean other than that?” Ronnie continued questioning. “Like, is she going to school?” “Don’t know.” He responded flatly. “Does she have a job?” “Don’t know.” He repeated. Ronnie thought for a moment. Then he started again. “How about her family?” Ron asked. “Where do her parents live?” “Don’t know.” “Does she have any brothers or sisters?” “Don’t know.” He said again, but then he added. “Yes, she has two sisters. I asked cause I wanted to know if there were any more like her.” Ronnie slapped him on the shoulder. “Dude, that is messed up.” Ronnie said. Just then Ass, Ben and Emily walked up. “What’s going on, boys?” Ass asked. “We got a gig or something?” “Yeah, we do.” Ronnie replied as he stood up. “Where’s Annie and Chalsea?” Emily asked as she looked around for the other girls. “Annie went to look at a few of the shops.” Ronnie explained. “She was looking for you and Chelsea. But when she couldn’t find you she decided to go out on her own.” “Bummer, I wanna shop.” Emily said. “Call her cell.” Ronnie said. “You need her number.” “Chelsea’s sleeping.” Pete added as an after thought. Not really sure what to make of the comment, Emily looked at Pete. For the first time, she noticed how poorly he looked. “Still?” Emily asked. “More like finally.” Pete said. “Your friend is hard to please.” The words stung her. It was just like Chelsea to move in and take the boy. Once again, it had been Emily that got noticed and Chelsea that reaped the benefit. Ass and Ben were nice guys, but they weren’t exactly delivering what Emily needed. That’s wasn’t fair, she realized. They were both wonderful people and she really did enjoy hanging out with them. Maybe Ass would sleep with her again, she hoped. “Uh…Emily?” Ronnie asked as he held up a slip of paper. “Annie’s number?” She had no idea that she had been so absorbed in her thoughts. Ronnie’s tone took her completely by surprise. “Yeah, right.” Annie said as she shook off the momentary lapse. “I’ll hook up with her and we’ll see you guys at the show tonight.” “Okay, see ya.” Ass said as he leaned over and gave her a peck on the lips. Instinctively, Ben winced. By force of will, he shook it off. He knew that his jealous was his problem and if he let Eddie see it, he would drive him away. The boys fell into their normal grouping, Pete and Ronnie in the front, Ass in Ben following behind. It was as if this was the only configuration they knew. The show started exactly on time. Once again, the boys were on fire. They got completely lost in the music and didn’t pay any attention to the time. After an hour and a half, they finally relinquished the stage. Storm Damage was the headliner on this gig as well. Ronnie could see them stewing in the wings when they started walking off stage. “You are so fucked.” Johnny said snottily as Ronnie walked up to him. “Randy’s here and he knows you played for well over an hour.” “Geez, what are you twelve?” Ronnie asked. “Go tell Randy. I can’t help it if we like to play and they love us.” “Yo, what’s up Storm Drain?” Pete said with a smile as he slapped Ronnie on the back. “It’s Storm Damage.” Johnny retorted. “Right, Storm Drain.” Pete continued. “I’ll remember that.” Just then, Randy walked up. It was fairly obvious that he had been there for the whole converstion. “Great, you are all here.” Randy said. “I have a kinda delicate matter …” “That’s right.” Johnny interrupted. “Tell ‘em to stick to an hour or they’re gone.” “Actaully, since this is such a problem for you Johnny.” Randy started. Starting in Surrey tomorrow night, Storm Drain … I mean Damage will play first. Allowing he statement to sink in, he gave Pete a quick wink. Pete appreciated the little homage that Randy did. But he had to bite his llower lip to keep from laughing out loud. “What?” Johnny asked incredulously when the magnitude of the statement hit him. “We’re the headliner.” Not wanting to lose Storm Damage completely, Randy had given a great deal of thought to how he was going to handle this situation. “You’re still getting top billing.” Randy said. “It’s like when the Who was headlining and Jimi Hendrix was the support band. The Who always played first. And you know why?” “No.” Johnny sulked still in funk. “Because with two such high energy acts on the same stage, they crowds ran outta gas half way through The Who.” Randy explained. “Don’t you see, you get the fresh crowd and these guys can take your sloppy seconds and play as long as they want to, right?” Johnny took a moment to contemplate Randy’s explanation. “Yeah, okay.” Johnny acquiesced. “Like The Who. Then Johnny turned to his band. “Dudes, Randy said were just like The Who.” Johnny said proudly.as he joined his bandmates and the went through their last minute prepartations. “Cool.” Ronnie said appreciatively. “Thanks, Randy. That’ll really help.” “Help?” Randy asked. “Damn right it’ll help. You guys are selling tickets like crazy and Debbie just hit number three on the charts. Guys, everyone is beginning to notice. I heard Eddie Vedder might be here tonight. I want you guys on stage as long as the crowd does.’ The announcer came on the PA and introduced Storm Damage. The crowd gave them an enthusiastic welcome, but by the middle of the first song they had already lost most of them. “Jesus Christ, these guys suck.” Randy said. “We’ll dump them after Portland and get you guys a better support band. That’ll give me time to change all the media.” <<< Chapter 35 More stories from Paul Gavin. Info on novels Paul Gavin's Storefront. Technorati Tags: Fiction, Online Book, Chapter, rebeleyeball, Paul Gavin IceRocket Tags: Fiction, Blook, Chapter, rebeleyeball Copyright (c) 2006 Paul Gavin. All rights reserved.

Gotta sell some books

That's it. I have got to sell more books. Some where in the neighborhood of 100,000 or 200,000 books. It has to happen. It is getting to the point where I will not be able to go into the office anymore. Why? For one and only one reason. I cannnot sit back day after day and watch the cretians in my office perpetuate the the worst crime known to man. Seriously, why in the hell can't people make a freaking pot of coffee? Is it such a hard thing to do? Dump the basket, put in a new filter, open a bag, pour in the contents, replace the basket and press a button. It took me longer to type the sentence than it takes to make a pot. Not kidding, people in my office will leave three millimeters of coffee in a pot and turn off the burner. But will they make a pot - HELL NO! Give me a break. Some of us need coffee. It's not a matter of choice, we are addicted. One thing I learned early in life - you do not want to get between a junkie and his/her fix. It's suicide. Come on people. When you take the last of the coffee, brew another pot. Especially when it is 8:30 in the morning. It's your duty. We all know the unwritten law - IF YOU DRINK COFFEE, YOU MAKE COFFEE! It's a simple as that. So, please, please, please spare me this agony. Buy my book. You have no idea the daily anguish I suffer at the hands of these...these...these inconsiderate robbers of the sweet elixir of life. More stories from Paul Gavin. Info on novels Paul Gavin's Storefront. Technorati Tags: Fiction, Online Book, Chapter, rebeleyeball, Paul Gavin IceRocket Tags: Fiction, Blook, Chapter, rebeleyeball Copyright (c) 2006 Paul Gavin. All rights reserved.

I'm stunned

For the last three months, I have been blogging my arse off without many comments. Finally, last week a post a blog about karaoke and within two days I get three comments. Which for me is a great deal. Hmm...how sad is that? I just don't get it. When I visit other blogs I see people getting 10, 15, 60 comments on one post. How does that happen? It's not like I am stagnating. My post are frequent and if I may add, very entertaining. Additionally, I am blogging a book which is much better content than women crying about boyfriends, hopeless conservatives bitching about the liberal press and teared-eyed people begging for validation. Really, I see progress everywhere. Despite all the IBCC has done to shut me off, I've moved up to 322,669 on Technorati. That's up 30,000 places in a three week period. That must be what's happening. I have heard that they have perfected a comment zapping technology, but I thought that it was just a rumor. I really need to do some checking. There is a way, but I think I am going to have to go begging. It is going to be very difficult for me. You see, the foremost expert in the field of forensic blogography is my arch nemeses, Cheesemo. It's a new field, but he got his start with a small company that was crushed by one of the giants. Since then he has dedicated his life to bringing them to their knees. The root of our feud is that he has chosen to engage in what I can kindly refer to as marginally ethical behavior in his quest. I believe there is a right way to do things. Cheesemo is more of "the end justifies the means" type of person. If I can stomach the thought of asking Cheesmo for a favor, I will let you know how the conversation goes. Unfortunately, I really don't see another way of drilling down into the whole lack of comments issue. It simply cannot be that people aren't interested in what I am writing, it has to be the IBCC. More stories from Paul Gavin. Info on novels Paul Gavin's Storefront. Technorati Tags: Fiction, Online Book, Chapter, rebeleyeball, Paul Gavin IceRocket Tags: Fiction, Blook, Chapter, rebeleyeball Copyright (c) 2006 Paul Gavin. All rights reserved.