Let's Speak The Same Language

Wednesday, June 21, 2017

SILENT/BOOMER BEATNICKS ON

For sleeping w/o scratching itchy eyes...
I value those of you who follow this blog. Seventy persons checked in over the last 24 hours, and I apologize to all for the 14 day lapse between this and my last entry. It's been medically trying for several  weeks. At this very moment I'm having a hot flash that makes me sweat as if I've just completed a marathon while I'm seated in a very chill Starbucks. I remain in physical therapy in an attempt to gain more control over my bowel function. Monday I had cataract surgery and am now in process of recovery from that. I'm having to wear reading glasses to see this blog or read a book or newspaper. Creative work is not possible when one is straining to see. From radiation treatments for prostate cancer to bladder stone and cataract removals ... this is the most extended period of time I've ever experienced of discomfort and office visits to medical doctors, ORs and physical therapists. If I didn't feel so youthful, I'd swear I'm growing old. Okay. I laugh. But the truth is I'm not the most courageous captain of my fate. I feel like whining a lot and must exercise some control so as not to overburden my wife whose father died last Wednesday morning after a lifetime of dealing in a very brave way with Type I diabetes. Heart failure. He was a sheet metal worker, and I earned my bread as a CNC machinist. Blue collar earners, the both of us, and I think that has a lot to do with the love my wife and I share. He was a good and humble man, and I'm so grateful that he raised the woman who is my wife. I'm also happy that my cancer treatment seems to be successful for reasons beyond my own survival as you can well imagine.

Has anyone noticed how this blog has devolved from an account of a man on a bucket list quest to the diary of a sick bed? I have several creative projects in mind, including another film script. If I can just get these metaphorical catheters out of my wrist and arise from my metaphorical sick bed, more will be revealed. The screenwriting class went very well. Bye-bye and buy bonds.

Wednesday, June 7, 2017

BUSY AS A BEE-ATNICK WRITER

Do I look as tired as I feel?
This morning, I finally got around to doing something once more toward achieving the first item on my bucket list. I worked on another cover letter to send to potential agents for my novel Ghoul World.  I've put that off for much too long and have not been sending out agent queries for any of my novels. I foresee another rewrite of my novel The Porn Writer too.


I've also been working through a rewrite of the poetry that was inspired by my encounter with prostate cancer last year. I intend to send it around to small publishing houses and to various contests. The title may be morphing from Up Your Ass to Cancer Doesn't Sing ... a reference to the prosaic rather than lyric nature of the poetry. 


The sci fi film script I now call Distant Enemies has been sent its merry way along with 50 dollars via the internet to the BlueCat Screenwriting Contest and, now, I'm preparing to send the first 30 pages of the same script to the Willamette Writers Screenwriting Competition. Deadline is June 15. Fee 10 bucks. A man could grow poor with his writing, eh? Still if feels good to be sending stuff out.

Outside this Starbucks where I write, the sun is shining and the birds are singing and there is a presence in the air that hints of a return to rain and daytime temps in the 60s and nighttime lows in the 40s. Thank you to anyone looking in on these blog entries.

Monday, May 29, 2017

CONTEST DEADLINE LOOMING AHEAD

This entry will be brief and to the point. I'm rewriting a screenplay in order to submit it to a contest recommended to the screenwriters at the NW Film Center by the Center. Deadline is May 31st. I'm hoping the Film Center's recommendation makes the contest authentic and safe. There is one big prize and several smaller ones. The size of the prizes suggest that many scripts will be sent in with fees. Thus I have to keep at the rewriting task and keep this short. At least Ghoul World is done for now. The screenplay is still untitled. Excuse me as I've got a script to tinker with. PS: Also notice alterations to my bucket list.

Tuesday, May 23, 2017

BEATNIK BEATEN BLACK AND BLUE

PICTURE FOUND HERE!
This Beatnik Boomer is bushed and beaten and bumbed out. My age is showing. On Friday last, I had stones removed from my bladder. In the afternoon, I took pain pills that caused constipation, then a laxative on Saturday to cure the constipation. I had good reason for the pain pills. The diameter of my urethra was undersized and my urologist had to insert a tool and expand it. Yep, she had to tear open the "narrow fibromuscular tube that conducts urine and semen from the bladder and ejaculatory ducts, respectively, to the exterior of the body." My poor Willy was bruised black and blue for many days afterward and peeing was more than uncomfortable. Then the laxative kicked in and all day Sunday I trekked to the bathroom on a regular basis on demand of both terminuses of the path from my mouth back into the world. I did little from Friday afternoon till this Tuesday morning but lie around the house and visit the bathroom. I ate little because of the constipation. Thus I awoke this morning aching all over, and when I tried to fold a couple of tee shirts and bundle one pair of socks and hang up a shirt, I was literally exhausted by the simple tasks, and my brain absolutely fails to operate creatively. This simple listing of details is all it can do. A man my age should never be inactive for as many days as I was. Move even if it hurts.

Wednesday, May 17, 2017

SILENT BOOMR FINISHED ZILLIONTH REWRITE OF GHOUL WORLD

Seventy-eight people looked in on The Silent Boomer yesterday. Hi, howdy and thank you. As for my bucket list item, I came across the news yesterday that Hollywood is snapping up sci fi novels like a snarling dog takes to a bone just as I'm just finishing my current rewrite of my sci fi novel, Ghoul World. In fact, today I finished it. Of course, Hollywood is looking for serialized novels. I set Ghoul World up so that it might be serialized, but I'm awfully far away from writing number two. Don' t know that I have the least interest in taking the serialization on. I'll know more later when I finish the screenwriting course on June 6th.
 

Grey skies above today. I'm tired of looking at grey skies above. It was 49 degrees and rainy in downtown Portland yesterday and the traffic hellish. Maybe it's all the new people pouring into town. Don't know, but they blocked cross streets like crazy. Very selfish drivers  when all along I've noticed how cooperative drivers have been Portland. It's got to be the Californians flooding up here to escape the selfish drivers in California? OK. I know. Vast generalization. Sunny days ahead on Thursday. That's tomorrow. Can't wait. 

Sunday, May 7, 2017

BEATNICK BREATHING THE WAFTING AIRS OF SUCCESS

Wouldn't it be nice?
Nothing is more mysterious than our emotional apparatus. Mine included. I've been experiencing continuous days of happiness, sometimes punctuated with ecstatic joy. I'm not spending thousands of dollars on stuff I don't need, not flying off to exotic vacations on Caribbean islands. It's not the manic phase of a bipolar swing. Maybe it's the screenwriting course I'm enjoying extravagantly. Maybe it's the increasing number of readers of this blog. Maybe it's the recognition and publication of my poem Legacy in WA129 [Sage Hill Press] and the concurrent invitation by Poet Laureate Tod Marshal to join him and Clark County Poet Laureate Chris Luna and his wife Toni Luna for a joint reading sponsored by the Washougal Library two weeks back. Very good to be included among them. Perhaps it's Tod's warm appreciation of other of my poems as well. Part of my joy has to be the steady sunshine of my wife's love for me that warms and nourishes me, and the love I feel for her that opposes the constant goads of ego that we all experience. I'm blossoming like a petunia in the corner of a rarely visited garden of the literary arts. Maybe it's Portland itself. Whatever it is, I'm standing at the window of World Cup Coffee at the corner of 18th and Glisan in Portland on a powerfully sunlit day and feeling as successful and rewarded as if I'd just won the Nobel Prize for literature. Can something be awaiting my lifelong efforts? Feels like it, but, then, the emotional apparatus of the human species is mysterious as hell. Isn't it? And as far as I can see, no actual gold laden Spanish galleon rides the horizon.

Sunday, April 23, 2017

THIS OL' BEATNIK POET WILL BE READING...

I'm honored! I've been invited by Poet Laureate of Washington State Tod Marshall to share my poetry at Washougal High School in Southwest Washington this coming Wednesday, the  26th at 7:00pm. Chris Luna, Clark County Poet Laureate, will also be reading and his wife, the accomplished poet Toni Luna. I'll be reading my poem "Legacy" from the anthology  Washington 129  as well as older work and perhaps one or two from the collection of poetry I wrote while dealing with prostate cancer last year. Washington 129 is a collection of poetry all by Washington State poets. Here's a chance to support poetry in Washington State by going to the Sage Hill Press internet site and purchasing a copy from the publisher.

Randall Jahnson
I'm elated and surprised. My second short film script is done and emailed in PDF form to Randall Jahnson. I am enjoying this process all to hell, and I fear I'm learning that I ought to have taken to screenwriting as my first choice in writing. I enjoy it so much and my imagination seems to flower more completely. When I think about my misspent writing life, I realize that when a book became a movie, I always referred to the movie in my head when I talked about the book. Another interesting thing to me has come up because of screenwriting. Except for my science fiction novel, I have a hard time not writing about myself. I'm the main character in much of my poetry and fiction. Not all, but a great deal of it. However, my first two short film scripts are completely imaginary affairs. I'm not in them at all except as writer. I'm floored by this realization, and hope it doesn't turn into depression based on lost opportunities. What the hell! It's fun now, and I'm still alive and writing. Who knows how it'll turn out?