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The 257

cover-bowlingWhen I was a teenager I was more known for being my sister’s brother than for anything else, and I didn’t do much to dissuade people from the assumption that I wasn’t much more than that. Call it lack of self-esteem, or maybe it was that I played way too often to expectations. In school I would get teachers the year after my sister did, and they would always tell me they expected great things, so I gave them great things. Of course my efforts were never applauded because they were expected. It was only when I did something unexpected that I got noticed, which always seemed ironic to me.

So, by junior year I had done a grand total of one thing others hadn’t expected, which was shaving my head on the coldest day of the year. But that convinced me maybe I was on to something. If I wanted to stop being known as merely “Joy’s brother what’s-his-name?” I had to do the unexpected. So I did. I joined the bowling team.

Now, when I saw the signups on the bulletin board outside the office I was intrigued. I had never voluntarily tried out for a school sport. Sure, freshman year I had signed up for an intramural volleyball tournament with two other guys who never bothered showing up for the actual games. And I had played well during recess class when we did badminton and table tennis, but that was about my entire experience with sports to that point. So signing up for the bowling team tryouts was a big step, and I did all I could to get ready for it. For a solid two weeks before tryouts I went to our local bowling alley after school and bowled until my arm was sore. I tried every technique there was (and believe me, I did, because I read all the books in the school library and the public library on bowling techniques), and when I stepped into that bowling alley for tryouts I thought I was ready.

I was wrong.

-4977343e216bb47cEvery boy in there to try out for the team had been on the team the previous year except me and this one scrawny kid who seemed like a nice puff of air would blow him over. Every boy who was trying out had a big weight advantage over me, too, and supposedly the power to go with it. Picture me back then, a tall, lanky kid with a box haircut, wearing corduroy pants and an over-sized sweatshirt. I almost walked back out of the door, but the coach noticed me and made me sit down there with the other guys who obviously knew each other. There was one boy there, Stanley, who I had classes with, and that’s the only thing that made the wait somewhat bearable. We talked about class, and how we were the smartest two in our math class, which took up some of the time. But by then our names were being called one by one and the butterflies began again. Continue reading “The 257”

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Cutting Room Floor: Part 2

Scraps of papers on tiled floorFor some reason, I guess I like telling stories that shift, either in perspective, in plot, or in time. My debut novel did all three at the same time, weaving them together in an interesting tapestry, and this new novel does similar things, at least to plot and perspective. I wrote the initial draft of the novel in the span of three weeks. In fact, it’s the fastest I’ve ever finished the first draft of anything larger than a short story. Of course the speediness of the manuscript lent itself also to a plethora of re-writes just for plot discrepancies that always creep in but tend to do even more so when a piece is written so quickly. I was surprised, however, upon my first and second edits, to find not too many plot holes and issues.

Now, as I work on the final edit, I’m reminded of why this story was so interesting to me in the first place. I’ve always been fascinated by books, shows, and movies about bank robberies. At the time I started to write the first manuscript there was a book published called The Heist, by Janet Evanovich and Lee Goldberg, and it reminded me of my dormant obsession with the genre. While that book was a massive disappointment, I nonetheless credit it with rekindling the fire inside of me. Right away I started writing and I didn’t stop until it was finished.

It’s slated for release on February 18th, and to say I’m excited is putting it mildly. I am so pumped because it’s exactly the type of book I would read if given the chance, and I hope those who enjoyed my first novel will enjoy this one too, even though they are drastically different. Welcome to my Cutting Room Floor.

THE STORY

It’s a mystery novel that tracks events leading up to and directly following a bank robbery, but it’s a lot more than just that. It’s also a study of contrasts between expectations and reality. What I love most about the story is that it is written in fragments and from different perspectives. Because it switches around so much it reveals in pieces the motivations and connections between the robbers, the ones who are seeking them, and other happenings in the city where the robbery takes place. The story delves into politics and crime, and shows how they’re not mutually exclusive. Continue reading “Cutting Room Floor: Part 2”

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The Mortality Clause

mortality-rates“Never forget the ones who are left behind; in this way they will never be truly gone.” -Theodicus

Death is such a touchy subject, isn’t it? We are born with such promise, with the entirety of our lives stretching out before us in a line that seems endless. But it’s not. In fact, at the moment of conception, even, we are beginning the ironic journey of living and dying at the same time. I look in the mirror at these gray hairs and realize that I’m 37 years old, that for over 37 years I’ve been slowly dying, and that I’ll be lucky to see 37 more years pass while I’m still on this earth. I also realize how fortunate I am that death is there, at the end of the hopefully long journey.

Don’t get me wrong, I am afraid of death, but not the idea of it. When actual death comes for me I will probably be anxious and afraid. We always fear the unknown, and I have no idea what waits for me on the other side of that abyss. The Bible says that there is nothing after death, that our bodies decay and that our spirits go back to our creator, which sounds peaceful of course. And it’s what is brought up the most by ministers at funeral services to soothe those who remain. He always says that our souls will meet theirs again in the great by and by. But we are more than our souls. We are also these bodies that the souls inhabit. If we believe in this after image, will we even recognize ourselves or others then? Yes, death itself scares the bejeezus out of me. Because of its uncertainty. Continue reading “The Mortality Clause”

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Water Cooler Musings: On Co-Dependency

codependencyI’ve often asked myself why so many people stay in destructive relationships where they aren’t appreciated or treated as equals, and where they’re often either ignored or taken for granted in some way, shape, or form. And the answer comes back loudly and clearly: because they’re afraid to be alone. So many people will accept so much less than they should because they don’t think they’re worthy of anything else and they can’t face the thought of being by themselves. That was the topic of discussion around the water cooler this week.

Tracy: My sister was with this guy for two years who treated her like shit. He was always talking about how she had to gain weight, how thin she always looked, and how he liked a little meat on his women. It gave her a complex.

Me: No wonder. How did she survive two years with him?

Tracy: He wasn’t like that at first, or at least he didn’t seem like it. I think it came out later.

Yeah, later, when he got more comfortable speaking his mind, or when he figured she was so into him that she would do what he wanted anyway. And for the most part he was right because she didn’t say anything against him when he started railing against her weight and how much food she “should be eating.” As I listened to Tracy talk about this guy, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of loathing toward someone who could treat a woman that way. Then we got down to the source of it all.

Me: Why do you think she put up with it after he started showing his true colors?

Tracy: Well, I think it’s because he looked good, and because she just never was alone, I guess. Not since first year of high school when she got her first boyfriend. That was… eight years ago.

Me: And how many relationships has she been in since?

Tracy: A ton. I lost count after six, and this guy counted as six. But she’s never been alone. She’s with another guy now who I think is better.

But that’s the problem, isn’t it? She can’t stand the empty feeling of not having someone in her life, of doing anything by herself because she’s never learned how to do it. For her entire adult life she’s been in one destructive relationship after another simply because she can’t NOT be in a relationship. For her own sanity. And that’s sad, but she’s not the only one. Continue reading “Water Cooler Musings: On Co-Dependency”

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Utica: My Photographic Journey

This is the historic Stanley Theater right downtown on Genesee Street. I saw Jason Mraz here two years ago, and it was fantastic. The theater was renovated and enlarged a few years before that.
Tones of home. This church is right next to the Utica Public Library, and I think it’s ironic that the sign is in English when the church is predominantly a Spanish-speaking one.
This statue graces the newly constructed traffic circle downtown. I love the smaller statues that make it up.
I imagine this candlelight park lit up at night with the light of a thousand candles scattered throughout. It stands beside the Planned Parenthood clinic.

Continue reading “Utica: My Photographic Journey”

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Melodic

The song has no words It’s fragile like ice Melting in the sun Lyrically bereft Haunting in its melody Rife with contradiction Tangled up in blue All jazz riffs and vibe Tickling the ivories Intensely personal While the people move Caught up in its bliss Heavy with desire Drunk on emotion Cool in the evening … Continue reading Melodic