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As a result of the pathetic persuasive nature of my post, or perhaps the barrage of e-mails, my new "friend", Tony and I are "hooking up" tonight for drinks and tomfoolery.
Never underestimate the POWER of this blog.
You have been warned.
Update – 4:00 PM
Tony broke our date. Apparently something suddenly came up.
I wonder if it's too late to call Charley?
Larry Brown
1951 - 2004
Because I wasn't writing this blog back in 2004 when author, Larry Brown passed away, I never had the opportunity to write about him for my celebrity deaths category. This sucks because I love his work and his passing was a great loss to literature.
I was introduced to Brown's work by an anonymous poster in the Craigslist writer's forum. I had written a post asking for some good book recommendations and someone suggested Larry Brown, a "Southern writer with some clever stories." I did a little research and ended up purchasing Father and Son, a book Brown wrote in 1996.
As I've mentioned in numerous book posts, I love flawed characters, and Brown's books are full of them; drunks, hoodlums, thieves and sluggards coexisting with decent, hard-working, common people. Most of his stories take place in the south (Brown was born, raised, lived and died in Mississippi) and often exhibit the harsh side of life. His characters are not always sympathetic, but they are true.
Always an avid reader, Brown began writing and submitting short stories in 1980, (an inspiration to us "older" writers) while working as a firefighter for the Oxford Fire Dept., and eventually received his first publishing credit with a story in the bikes and boobs magazine, Easyrider. In 1988 he published Facing the Music, a collection of short stories, followed by a second collection, Big Bad Love in 1990.
I also credit Brown for turning me on to writer Harry Crews. I believe it was in Billy Ray's Farm where Brown credits Crews' Feast of Snakes as an influence
Brown's full collection is below. The ones in bold are those I've read, all of which I can recommend.
A heavy smoker, Brown died of a heart attack at his home near Oxford on November 24, 2004 at the age of 53. His early death robbed the world of what surely would have been a much larger body of outstanding work.
I'm pretty tired this morning. That's what I get for going to bed thinking about bills and money and financial crap. After tossing and turning for about 20 minutes I gave up and got up and watched most of Alien Nation.
So we went to a used book sale at the local library on Saturday; tons of books and too many people, lured by the bargain of $1 books. But I elbowed my way past the old biddy's scrounging through Oprah's Book Club selections to scrounge up a few selections of my own.
I've never been a huge Jack London fan, but he wrote some classics and I've had drinks at Heinold's First and Last Chance Saloon several times, so I figured I owed it to old Jack not to leave his work floundering amongst the supermarket paperbacks. He's lucky it was only a dollar though.
Yea, I bought this because I'm queer. Shut the f*ck, up. Actually I've probably read more about Burroughs than anything he actually wrote. I think the most Burroughs I've read were bits and pieces from The Portable Beat Reader; one of those books for folks who really don't want to read any of the beat writers, but want to pretend as though they have. I tried to read Naked Lunch once and just got all befuddled. We'll see if Queer has a similar effect.
The naked chick caught my eye. What can I say? Saw the relatively sh*tty movie with Meg Ryan and Mark Ruffalo several years ago. The books are always better than the movies so what the hell.
Comedian, Steve Martin wrote this novella several years ago and I recall hearing some good things about it. I believe a movie was made as well but I'm not sure. I know that if it was, I've never seen it. I've always liked Martin, and figure this will make a good addition to my Steve Martin library, right next to Cruel Shoes on my bookshelf.
My buddy Tom was telling me about this book. I believe it's Clavell's first novel. I've never read any Clavell but he's supposed to be good. I figure since King Rat is his first novel and not nearly as thick as Shōgun, it's a good one to start with.
This is another book that I've heard good things about. Actually it may have been the John Cusack movie that I heard good things about; a movie we actually just saw for the first time several weeks ago. I'm sorry to say that I was disappointed in it. Maybe it's a "younger man's" movie. Maybe the book is too.
I didn't actually buy this book as I already own it, a first addition with a personal message written to me by my pal Chuck Kinder, however whilst rummaging through the many boxes full of books that were under the display tables, I came across a pristine hard cover copy of this, his most recent book. So I shoved aside a few copies of Koontz and King and gave old Chuck a more prominent place on the display table.
You're welcome old buddy.
Let's talk about parenting –that never-ending roller coaster ride of fun and frivolity.
There are many joys to parenting; all of those "firsts," watching them grow, having them curl up in your lap to read a book, watching them sleep, enjoying their successes as if they were our own and perhaps someday seeing them marry and start families of their own.
Yes, yes, all wonderful stuff, I'll agree. But today I'd like to discuss one of the true joys of parenting, a little something I like to refer to as "Intentional Annoyance."
To read the rest, click ---à HERE, and scroll to page number 8.
As the Saw Palmetto seemed to have little effect, yesterday my Dr. gave me a month's worth of Flowmax samples. He also nearly made me pass out while describing a particular procedure by which the urologist can determine if there is some little flap of skin inhibiting one's flow. F*CK THAT. I'll try the pills.
Gee, what's one more prescription? I've still got a few square inches of space on top of the microwave for another pill bottle. I didn't think one's prostate was supposed to cause one problems until one hit at least 50. Does this mean my body is aging faster than it should?? Do I really have the body of a 52 year old?? Am I going to die???
Anyway…
Today, Yahoo News ran this article.
Coincidence? I think not.
As if we needed yet another excuse, but hey this is medical science talking gentlemen, and your prostate will thank you for the exercise. Turn a deaf ear at your own peril.
Meanwhile, back in the Congo, panic is spreading over so called "penis snatchers." (In stealing from moog, bonus points to me for using "penis" and a variation of "snatch" in the same sentence.)
These superstitious yahoos believe that local "sorcerers" (OOoooo!) have the power to make their danglies shrink or vanish altogether simply by touching them (their body in general, not their dangley per se, though I imagine that would work too, probably even better in fact)
This concern with "penis snatching" (+2) is apparently a very common problem in the Congo where "belief in traditional religions and witchcraft remain widespread."
If you folks in the Congo really want to fear something, try this or this.
Now if you'll excuse me I have some exercising to do.
The facts:
Up until this point I've used the POWER of this blog for the good of mankind, but no more. Today I'm using it to begin the: campaign.
Sorry; God damn wingdings font.
That would be the: Be Joe's Friend campaign.
During this crusade, I will turn the POWER of my blog into my personal bully pulpit, and attempt to badger various people into becoming my friend.
Why the hell not, right?
So who can use his blog for whatever twisted agenda enters his well-shaped head?
You're damn right.
My first new "friend" will be a fellow blogger and local boy by the name of Tony Hicks. I understand he also writes a column for some local rag, but as we typically either:
I'm really not familiar with his work.
Joe's new friend ---à
However he is local and he's generous when buying drinks, so he meets a few of the important criteria on the "Criteria to be Joe's Friend" list. The fact that he's a writer will allow us to "talk shop," in between checking out the local babes and arm wrestling.
Tony – let me know when you're free and we'll hook up and swap stories. I don't have any, so be prepared to talk. And bring your wallet.
OK, who else wants to be Joe's friend? Speak up!
In my continuing commitment to support the argument of quantity over quality, I give you tonight's shopping list.
It's what's for dinner.
And what does an analysis of my hand-writing say about me? That I'm a tired drunk probably.
It was swell.
Baseball and soccer games, a trip to Mudville's Bar & Grill, an evening viewing of Like Mike and scads of Wii Major League Baseball.
Sunday I got me a haircut, we did some grocery shopping and more Wii Major League Baseball. The boy seemed to enjoy the father son time as he cajoled to stay up a little later on Saturday because it was a "special weekend." The strippers thought that was so cute.
Oh, Saturday night I was up late watching The Mist. This movie is based on the Stephen King story. I've loved this story for many years and was both excited and concerned about the prospect of the movie. Too often movie versions of books or stories I've enjoyed are complete suck fests, and Stephen King in particular does not always translate well to film. The Mist, however, is a tense, exciting, well done gross out film. The acting was great and there were several well known or at least recognizable actors that brought it up several notches from your typical slasher-type films. I also noticed that, and I don't know the technical jargon, but it felt like I was watching an episode of say ER or something. Something about how it was filmed seemed more realistic than a typical movie. It's definitely not a feel good movie but very entertaining.
The ladies are heading north for the weekend, which leaves the boy and I alone for some gooood times; late nights (9:30 PM!) pizza, catch a showing of Nim's Island, maybe a Sponge Bob marathon. Who knows?
Other than a 2:00 baseball game and a 4:00 soccer game tomorrow, we're free and clear. Oh, well there's also the 10:00 AM baseball practice on Sunday, but maybe we'll just blow that off. Depends on whether or not the strippers decide to sleep in. Weeums wouldn't want to wakee wakee them to early. No we wouldn't!
We're gentlemen that way.
Some of these things bug me; others just make me wonder. Don't judge me. What, like you're perfect?
Feel free to add your own.
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