I Can See My House From Here!

This photo of Earth and the moon was taken by NASA's Juno spacecraft last Friday (August 26), when the spacecraft was about 6 million miles away. It was taken by the spacecraft's onboard camera, JunoCam. The solar-powered Juno spacecraft lifted off from Cape Canaveral in Florida (it's no longer Cape Kennedy?) on August 5 to begin a five-year journey to Jupiter.

As I look at this photo, I feel two overriding things. First, I feel pretty insignificant, then I realize that we could take it at all, and I realize how significant we are! Click to enlargerate.

Smooth Sailing

So we're heading into a new week and I think we'll have calm waters and smooth sailing here at Bookends. The past week has been nice. No dramas, no unexpected emergencies, just normal life. The one adrenaline-raiser was a good thing that happened, so no complaints there. Damn, this past year has been hard, but I think we may be heading in an upward direction at last.

Have a a great week!

How Rude! Indies Need to Hone Their Social Skills

Lately, I've been receiving a lot of friend requests in Facebook. Because most of them are indie musicians and authors who find me through mutual friends who are indie promoters, I accept them. Hey, a little mutual backscratching never hurt anyone. So far, everyone has been polite and very careful about not being guilty of obnoxious self-promotion. They're all quite friendly, in fact. Some of us are even building nice online friendships.

Once in a while, though, someone comes through who hasn't learned the ropes, so to speak. Like today, when an author who'd never commented on anything I've posted, or even "Liked" anything stepped from the shadows. I've never even seen any statuses made by her, come to think of it. She posted on my wall a simple message:

"SK - how many of my books have you read?"

It was of course attached to a link to her website. Things like this crawl all over me, so I wrote back:

"If you want me to read your books, it might be best if you first said hello to me and introduced yourself before asking me how many of your books I've read. Sorry, but you have just ensured that I shall never read you."

Over-reacting? I don't think so. When someone accepts my friend requests, I always post a personal thank you to their wall. This person hadn't even done that. The message was clear: she considered me nothing but a billboard for her marketing. I went to her page, where it came as no surprise to see that I was one of only five friends. That friend list has been decreased by one.

Independent artists really need to hone their social skills. Yes, promoting your work is important, but it has more to do with building professional relationships than it does employing old school, "door-to-door" marketing. If any one concept will make us strong, it's mutuality. Learn it now, or learn it later, but later may be too late.

Swan Song: The last Day

Although I'm still a big fan of Donovan's music, I've kind of lost my fondness for him on a personal level. I've read his autobiography, I was a subscriber of his website, and I "friended" him on Facebook. I still have the book, of course, but I withdrew from the rest a few months ago because in each of these he comes off as self-aggrandizing and pretentious. I hope I'm wrong, but frankly, he seems to be a colossal boor. It makes me sad because I've loved him most of my life.

Yesterday I read an interview with him at Clash and, although his tone remains the same, the interview questions were worth the read and I thought that as a meme they might be thought-provoking. Feel free to use them if you want. The premise is simple: how would you like to spend your last day?

Where would you like to wake up?
On my last day I'd like to wake up in California, near the beach and with a great view of the mountains.

What’s left to achieve on your last day?
Seeing friends and family and making amends wherever necessary. I haven't accomplished most of what I set out to in this life, but I have done a lot that I didn't know was in my cards. More than accomplishing acts and meeting goals, I've learned much and in my opinion, that's a life of true accomplishment. So, if tomorrow was my last day, I'd say that, outside of finishing my trilogy, there's little left unfinished.

Who would be at your final dinner?
Everyone I've ever known and loved who's still around.

What’s on the menu?
People could have whatever they want; I wouldn't be interested in eating.

What would be the after-dinner entertainment?
A live performance of my choice, with no limitations? How about the Beatles? Realistically, good music on the stereo is fine. Maybe some of us would pull out our guitars and jam a while.

How would you like to die?
Painlessly and fully conscious.

What would your final words be?
"I love you."

What would you have written on your gravestone?
"There are only two emotions, fear and love. I chose love."

Who would you like to meet at the pearly gates of Heaven?
My friends and family who have gone before me. I'd simply leave one party to join another!

What is your vision of heaven?
A place of my own creation, with green, rolling hills, trees, gardens, an ocean, and mountains in the distance. I admit I'm very attracted to the vision of heaven as depicted in the movie, What Dreams May Come. The idea of a self-created 'afterlife' appeals to me.

If you could be resurrected the next day what would you come back as?
The next day? That's too soon. I need a good, long rest, say about 500 earth years. But when I come back I'll still be me, only the body will be different.

Recycling Compassion

Sometimes, no, frequently, life really amazes me. One of the reasons I've never been a suicidal sort is because I know that things always get better. Not in a linear sense, but cyclical. When things are bad, they eventually get better. Then they'll get bad again, and then better. I've recognized this rhythm from an early age and it has helped me to hang on when others have cashed in their chips to take their meager winnings home.

I've made no secret of the fact that we've been stone broke and that eating has become a major issue in our home. The past two weeks have been especially terrifying, because we were down to next-to-nothing. During the daytimes I changed my attitude and called it fasting, leaving what little we had for Nettl, who works, and Joel, who, due to health issues, falls seriously ill if he doesn't get some kind of nutrition.

Last Monday I finally began looking around for something, anything, that I could sell just to get a few groceries to tide us over until the first of the month. That's when I realized we had a minivan in the drive that hasn't run in months. The engine and body were great; all it needed was a fan belt, a battery, and two new tires (even if we could have afforded to have those things fixed, we couldn't afford the insurance). I put an ad on Craigslist and it was sold within 20 minutes for $200. Not much, but hey, that's a lot of groceries for us these days.

The kid who wanted to buy it was very sweet, but he lives about 30 miles away and couldn't get here until this weekend. I had plenty of other offers, but something kept telling me to hold out for him, that he was the one who was supposed to buy the car, although, for us, it meant nearly another week without any real food.

He showed up yesterday, exactly at the time we'd specified, and began working on the van. He put it up on jacks and removed the bad tires, replaced the belt and the battery. He asked if he could keep the van here until next week, when a friend can bring him down to pick it up and I said sure, no problem. He gave me the cash, then took the title to Nettl, who signed the car over to him. He couldn't have been any older than 21.

But here comes the good part. While with Nettl, he told her that he'd been looking for a minivan to fix up so that he could give it to a young family in need, who has to get to Florida for a job, and he couldn't believe it when he saw my ad. This family has two small children and a baby on the way, and no car. We needed food. A win/win situation all around implemented by this generous guy sporting a scruffy goatee. What feels wonderful for me is that, in our own need we were the answer to someone else's. I prefer to think that we had to go through our ordeal so that someone else's could end.

I don't want to hear about how selfish young people are these days; I've had plenty of experiences that show me otherwise. In his compassion, this young man set out to help one family and in the process he helped two. I'm still amazed at how this happened.

My Amazing, Death-Defying, Brave Face Trick

I've had enough of this crap. I'm sick of it, and I'm bored. I'm bored with myself for being so damned boring and depressed. In fact, I'm so sick and bored with it all, I don't want to talk about it, don't want to blog about it, don't want to think about it.

"I wish I had more sense of humor sometimes, keeping the sadness at bay, throwing a lightness on these things, laughing it all away..."

I haven't been very funny lately, or even particularly interesting. I don't post often enough and when I do, it's usually only about writing. Riveting stuff, that. Right? Wrong. I apologize. I shall now attempt my death-defying, Brave Face trick and amaze you all! I don't want to talk about all that introspection crap. Tonight, I want to write about...

WEIRD-ASSED DREAMS!

Last night I dreamed I lived in a beautiful geodesic dome made entirely of glass. It was night, and I lay on a plush, red velvet sofa, looking up at the sky, which was inky black and full of stars--more than I've ever seen before. I have no idea what the dream means. Well, I have an idea, but it really doesn't matter. What matters is that in the dream I was happy. Joyous, in fact. I felt all the possibilities and anticipation of a glorious future that I felt as a kid. Anything was possible--EVERYthing was possible!

When I woke, I was immediately pushed back down into depression and fear. I felt ill, in fact, and spent the entire day wishing I were anywhere than in the situation I'm in. But the dream kept revisiting me. It reminded me that it's there, inside my mind, my private universe. I think I'll use it when I meditate. I'll imagine myself there, lying on that sofa and looking up at the stars. Maybe it can become my Happy Place.

It's time for my meds now... The nurse has brought the white jacket with the extra-long sleeves...

Bait and Tackle

Before I commit myself to a week of heavy editing, I'd like to take a moment to leave some semblance of a blog entry for those of you who still come here. Since I began writing my trilogy, many regular readers have flown the proverbial coop and, where I once used to get up to twenty comments on each post, I now get one or two--if that.

I'm not complaining. Keeping a blog popular is hard work that requires a great deal of dedication and I have given myself over to writing books which, naturally, hogs up every ounce of those qualities. Them's the breaks, I guess. Plus, I just don't have the luxury of being able to spend all afternoon creating and spit shining a blog entry every day; we're working ourselves to death just to keep a crust of bread in the house. I'm not complaining. We have a house, which a lot of people don't have these days.

Which brings me to an idea I've had.

In the past I hesitated to join the eBook parade because, first, I simply didn't understood the potential it carries and, second, because I wanted to spend my time writing "real" books. Thanks to Joe Konrath, I've seen the light and I've decided to write and upload a bunch of eBooks for Kindle which will sell for 99¢ apiece. One in particular is called Hungry In The Heartland and is a compilation of past blog entries about what I've learned, felt and overcome during our decade-long financial emergency. And many people (including the editor of our local newspaper) liked those entries. Let's put them use then. It seems like a fair trade: others can learn from my experiences, and we can eat something besides beans and rice.

Make no mistake. These books are not created to be masterpieces (although I still invest as much energy and dedication into them as I do my ongoing list of larger works), nor do they aspire to be best sellers. They are created to make money. At 99¢ a pop, the hoards of people who haunt the Kindle pages in search of indie authors can provide me with an income while I give them something worthwhile to read. The concept is simple: the more fish you seed into the lake, the greater the catch.

And that, my friends, is my entry. Have a beautiful week!

Art Credit: "Trying to Capture the Moon" by Kanelstrand.

Just a Nothing Day, Please?

"But it wasn't a dream -- it was a place. And you -- and you -- and you -- and you were there."

Last night, sometime during the 6:00 hour, a storm blew in from out of nowhere. I'm not sure what to call it. It was a tornado without the circulation, a hurricane without the ocean... it was a storm from hell. Straight-line 80 to 100 mph winds that peeled roofs off of houses like sardine cans, thunder that shook the house like a series of earthquakes, trees falling down all around, or uprooted, terrifying lightening strikes, torrential rain, flash flooding, and fires. And that was just in our little neighborhood. We were without power for over five hours. Sirens screamed all night. It was like a war zone. Some neighborhoods still are without power.

Across the street is a huge sycamore tree. It has to be at least 80 years old. I love that tree and I look at it every day from my window. There is now more of it on the ground than, well, in the tree. Four giant branches came down as I watched, just ripped off by the wind--it was unreal. All of our trees lost branches and our yard and drive are covered with debris.

After the storm passed, everyone came outside to assess the damage and the neighborhood men (my sons included) worked together to clear our street so that emergency vehicles could pass. For a while the entire corner was blocked. It's still a huge mess. Everyone's in shock. No one knows what to do. The trees need to be cleaned up, but what do you do with limbs that are as large as a house? I'm beginning to hear chainsaws outside and our landlord is trying to remove parts of the old tree by dragging them with his pickup.

What a week. Today, all I ask is for a Nothing day. No plumbing backing up, no computers breaking down, no apartment complexes on fire, no emotional outbreaks, no life-threatening weather. Just... nothing.

Maybe I'll Post on Saturdays

So, yeah, I've been busy with this writing thing. Actually, I only write late at night because the daytime is spent editing and doing all of the other things I have to do. But I'm finally addressing things on my indy author/publisher To Do List. I'm staying off of Facebook, except for first thing in the morning and later in the evening when I take a break from working for an hour.

I actually felt a spark of my writing mojo last night and got a good deal of a scene written. And I felt that love for my story that is often so illusive. That's the main thing for me. If writing is a huge chore, then what's the point? I want to love my story and characters. I want to enjoy this, damn it. Last night I felt that for the first time in weeks. It makes all the difference.

In other news: yesterday afternoon Lauren's apartment complex caught on fire. It was pretty big, destroying one apartment block, causing significant damage to a second, and taking a number of cars with it. It was on the telly, but since we don't have cable, I watched it on the news channels' websites. Fortunately, thanks to the eight trucks of firefighters that were called to the scene, the fire never reached her apartment block. We all had some tense moments there for an hour, though.

What was I saying a few days ago about the past couple of weeks being about "putting out fires"? As above, so below. Funny how that works.

Bring it On

It isn't much and it won't relieve the drought, but we're getting a much-needed rain as I write this. I went out onto the front porch for a bit and just savored the sound and smell of it and the way the breeze wafted an ever so slight mist on my face. Even the cat didn't run away from it. It took the temp down to 90 degrees, which is a lot when you understand that we've been dealing with 114 lately. We're expecting more around three o'clock in the morning.

As I say,it's not enough to ease things, but it surely does restore my spirit and make me less grumpy.

Why I Love Ventura #10: The Beach

Well, the weekend was a success and we all had a really fun time. Everything that got all jacked up last week seems to have been resolved (not all of that was easy, believe me) and this week has started out quite well. Outside of the heat that is, but everyone's sick of hearing about that. You should try living in it. Seriously, it's making people go a bit barmy. I thought, in honor of the California summers of my past, and how homesick I am right now, I'd share my little corner of the Pacific Ocean with you. All pictures enlarge if you click them nicely. Photo credits follow at the bottom.

One of the things I really appreciate about the beach in Ventura is that the weather seldom gets too hot. Sure, sometimes we see 100°, but at the beach it stays pretty nice. Even better, once the sun starts to set you need a hoodie or a light wrap. But another cool thing about that is, you're allowed to build a bonfire on the beach. If the wind kicks up and it gets too cold, you can always nip into one of the bars, bistros or restaurants for drinks, soup, peel-and-eat shrimp, wine, or whatever you fancy.

The water is usually a bit too cold for swimming, but people do it anyway, and the surfers don't seem to mind it too much. In the winter, however, you'll see them in their wet suits. If you're not into surfing, it's still fun to walk the Promenade all the way from the pier to Surfer's Point. You'll probably see every kind of human being during that short quarter-mile walk, from homeless musicians busking for money, to skaters, to people dressed in costumes to walk their dog... you just never know what you'll see. It's this time-honored dedication to individuality that I miss most about Ventura.

While you're walking, don't be surprised of you catch a fleeting glimpse of the feral cats that live in the rocks beneath the Promenade. Many years ago, people used to heartlessly dump unwanted kittens on the beach, but some of them were plucky enough to grow and breed, and they're now taken care of by bighearted people who bring them food and water. The only thing I would warn you about is the elevator in the parking structure. It stinks. My friends and I used to call it "the urinevator". Again, just part of the general funkiness of the town. Instead, park downtown and walk the two blocks to the beach. Much more pleasant!

Finally, don't forget the pier. Ventura is famous for it; I wrote about in the 4th entry in this category. Day or night, I love to stroll the entire 1,958 feet of this crooked, wooden arm over the water; it's a great way to walk off a seafood dinner and a couple of drinks.

Sometimes I read things people say on the web about Ventura. There are visitors who bash it, complaining that the beach is dirty, the train is noisy, it's kind of funky... Bite me. This isn't Hawaii or Cabo San Lucas. It isn't really a resort town, either. Although Ventura welcomes visitors quite graciously, it's really just a town where people live. It's artsy, kitschy and a little dated and tired in places, but we love it. Additionally, if you come in June expecting glorious summer weather, you'll be in for a big surprise. We have what is lovingly called the June Gloom. It's a Mediterranean climate zone, not tropical. We get storms that really raise a fuss sometimes, leaving rocks, driftwood and other debris on the beach. Deal. You want white sands? Go south. And we love our trains too, damn it. When I lived up on Poli Street, I loved hearing the Amtrak roll through late at night, blowing its whistle. It always assured me that I was home.

Credits:
Tony Jankowski
Joe Virnig
Jamie Watson
S. H. Verstappen
Cheryl Lunde