Quill & Claw/Pen & Paw

There was a ghost story in the news.  I remember it vividly. Every night, the buzz over the book, “The Amityville Horror,” made all the crime and economic woes of the seventies pull into a very different perspective. “You could be living down in Amityville.” Oh, how my morbid soul would have loved it. My older brother even read the book. This was a big step. He didn’t even read the directions on the shampoo bottle. I was hooked. Then? Then there was a Halloween documentary special on ghosts. Right there on HBO. My mother treated us to cable upon the passing of my father-it made sense, for soon we’d be latchkeys and need something to do. And I watched that ghost video show a few times. A precursor to YouTube videos, I’m sure. On that little movie, they played back the tapes from a very documented case. The Enfield Haunting. The fact was, the tapes had just been released, and, due to the proximity of the famed Amityville haunting, the press was keeping...

I shouldn't write about this. I'm, by no means, an authority on guns, or violence. Heck, I don't anyone who survived, and I don't know who was slaughtered. I'm not the correct choice, but, at the same time, I feel compelled to author something.  Cause I'm here. I'm a member of this nation, this planet. And I'm gay.  There was a massacre at a gay nightclub.  Not only that, I've been here before.  Nathan Dunlap, upset over being fired, walked into a Showbiz Pizza place and shot up the place.   Article The same place behind my middle school where, when I had extra quarters, I'd walk over and play video games at.  That was close. Too close.  See, there was a shooting in Colorado-as a school a friend of mine had just finished student teaching at. I had driven by and talked to her while she was there.  Yes, it was  Colombine. I knew that school. That was close to home, emotionally, physically. And then th...

I lean on the shoulders of giants. Seriously. Not a Thursday night goes by where I don't find myself sitting in for a decent reading session with Rogerebert.com, even after the master of film criticism has passed. His progeny proliferate and I sit in respectful awe of their talent. I try to copy their style, their wordings, here. I know. Good luck with that. But the writing is good, if not great. These are people who find homes in writing, places I can only dream of. I've also leaned on the New York Times to find the ins-and-outs of restaurant writing. The fact is, I'm not a very good cook, so, nope, that's where I fail, horribly. I don't know the kinds of flavors I'm tasting. Adjectives allude me and it's rough. Then there's this review. And I have no active examples on what to say or do in terms of authoring a review of specific attraction at the Disney Parks. Oh. Sure, yeah, there's a few hundred blogs. But they pretty much suck moos...