Matters Of Little Consequence

The world isn’t one size fits all. It’s seven billion sizes, each one possessing the remarkable ability to tell the world to fuck off,

There was a cinematic quality to the summer of Dame, the days brimming with melodies I’d long since forgotten and the nights a cascade of well spun fascinations. We felt a damn sight smarter than Bogey and Bacall, depending on the moment. It was far from perfect, which is how you expect it to be when you arrive at a certain age.

It would be almost two months from the night of our initial phone conversation until I would fly out to Chicago, and it passed like wildfire. I was busier than a paper shredder in a law firm. My ex was getting serious with her new guy, a fact that I toasted every chance I could. I wasn’t nearly as celebratory about moving back into the old house in the event she moved out, however.

The house had been a point of contention throughout my marriage. Truth be told, I never warmed to the place. It wasn’t her fault, seeing as how I was a royal pain in the ass when it came to particulars during our house search. We went through several agents and scores of homes before she took matters into her own hands and signed off on one. I would never have admitted it back then, but she was right to do so. I was never going to fall in love with a house. I was always more Shaolin monk than homeowner, and I’m not gonna blame David Carradine for my cosmic cow.

As fate would have it, Dame was moving too. So the time was a blur of constant motion on both ends of a telephone line in the lead up. Writing was the funk to our sweetly sewn strokes back into the shore and away from the mighty of a storm that was changing our lives in scoundrel form. The Dame filled in the gaps quite nicely, and before long she became the voice that tucked me in at night.

The only reason the blog didn’t become an afterthought is because it was crunching numbers the way a bar crunches tacos at happy hour. A local radio station started stealing our shit, so when I pitched a fit about it, they invited us on the show. I had Dan do the honors, seeing as how I didn’t want anything to do with talentless jerkoffs who did the puff pastry work of morning radio.

To my way of thinking, if all the world truly is a stage, then you have to play yourself. Because the minute you start playing a character other than yourself, you’re shish-kebab. Granted, I’m a scrum of oddities, but I will always stay true to the things I feel, even if they make no fucking sense to anybody else. Because in the end I realize that we are all grains of sand. Be true to the particulates is what I’m saying.

The blog was kicking thanks to my unsolved self. I wasn’t economical in my opinions, and I sure as hell wasn’t convenient in my dearth of membership cards. But I wrote the hell out of sunsets and sunrises and produced shit that churned an engine that was happening. I found writers, not because I gave a blessed fuck for community, but because they wrote good shit. And they brought friends. I had no agenda and no blessed desire to carry such a thing. And it worked, so fuck Sam Houston and his consternation.

Dame was simpatico. She strummed because it meant something to her, and for no reason beyond that. She’d worked for a newspaper and now she toiled in relative obscurity on a blog with a great sounding name. You could say she had a few million reasons to be that nonchalant but I knew better than that. She’d simply arrived at a point of hurt and hopelessness, after which nothing mattered as much as the writing. Which became the thing, the only thing, and nothing but the thing. She was the kind of smart that attracted more of the same. People loved her because of her bared boned truth telling. She was a Carly Simon song- whichever one she damn well pleased.

It was mid July when I called up Dame one afternoon. I was covering a news conference at Armstrong Headquarters, heralding their LEED Platinum certification. I was jittery on account of it being uncharted territory for me. But trade mags paid well and the spread was sweet. I’d written a few things for Sporting News, and hated it. Fact is, I wasn’t crazy about writing for any publication. I didn’t feel the thrill in seeing my name on a byline, which probably has something to do with that whole Shaolin monk malady I suffer from.

Dame told me to eat up, write up and to call her later and then she smooched me goodbye. After which I headed inside to meet my contact: a thirty something beauty who had tats that spoke to regret and a born again spirit. She was bored in her marriage and kept a love platter on the side. So what if I wasn’t launch code sharp as far as trade mags were concerned. I knew women just fine.

“Do you have a business card?” She asked sweetly.

“I don’t have a business card or a resume, but if you want me back again just read the piece I’m gonna write. That’ll work better,” I snorted whilst staring down the asshole seated next to me who had been reciting his resume to anyone who cared to listen during chow time. 

Dale Carnegie was hating me from the ever after, and I was plenty fine with that.

55 thoughts on “Matters Of Little Consequence

  1. well! enjoyed every word and i just drafted a post with a snippet from Carnegie – so that was weird to read the ending –
    the timing of it.

    love the layers in your writing –
    and this…
    “sweetly sewn strokes back into the shore and away from the mighty of a storm that was changing our lives in scoundrel form. ”
    tasty good

    Liked by 1 person

    • Okay . . . I am giving this Carnegie thing a Vegas line of three days (over/under). IF I hear a Carnegie reference from any member of my posse or even an acquaintance in the next three days. . . Imma freak.

      Liked by 2 people

          • oh no worries and it was not “much” of a post – but it was personal – sometimes the posts are for us – and I had to get that one out of a drafts folder.
            The Carnegie booklet was from 65 and original edition was 1912 – and what amazed me was how so many topics are timeless –
            so even as tech advances – humans are humans.
            for example – people have been stealing shit from other people for eons (now I normally would not use “shit” but it fits the post here – lol) –
            and sorry your stuff was ripped off – but glad you caught it and addressed –
            and I do not know what blogging was like back in the day – but I have heard it was much different than today

            Like

          • You know it Prior. Sometimes you go with what speaks to you. And cleaning up the draft folder can render some interesting results, 🙂

            Yes, humans only think they’ve changed that much. But when you break us down, we’re very much the same subjects that boarded the Titanic with the idea of making it to New York for a big celebration. In other words, we’re dreamers who venture into uncharted territory, no matter the unseen risks.

            I applaud your usage of the word shit. Appropriate in the moment. And uh . . well, I am kinda liberal with NSFW adjectives . . . sometimes.

            To tell you the truth, I don’t remember it being all that different. But then again, I’ve kept that same basic mindset from then to now. Write good stuff, connect with people I would connect with for no other reason than because they interest me. And tell the truth, even when it’s not pretty.

            Liked by 1 person

          • And keeping with your Titanic analogy –
            “we’re dreamers who venture into uncharted territory”
            and some of us are stuck in steerage while others get the top deck cabins –
            those class divisions are timeless too – and happy are the ones who take the risks you mention and don’t live for shit – and stuff – hahah

            and loved this:
            And tell the truth, even when it’s not pretty.
            omg is this important

            Liked by 1 person

    • I was in a good place. Looking back, it was entirely about peace of mind. She had something to do about it, for sure. But more than that, it was about knowing I was following the right path.

      I agree with that statement, but there are so many body snatchers out there! LOL.

      Thank you Eilene. 🙂

      Liked by 2 people

  2. B,

    You’ve managed to wrap your prose round your readers once again. I know. I keep repeating myself but damn can you write!

    I have to agree with Prior on that “Writing was the funk to our sweetly sewn strokes back into the shore and away from the mighty of a storm that was changing our lives in scoundrel form.” Absolutely delicous.

    And boy have you got it right. You always have to play yourself in life – no matter if you are a scrum of oddities, which frankly, most of us are to a certain extent.

    Of course you and The Dame hit it off. You’re both smart (I’ll trust your judgment with regards to her for obvious reasons), you both write your truth and you both didn’t give a rat’s ass if others get it or not. Though you know they do.

    It is such a weird thing you have about not wanting to see your name on a byline but still wanting your words out there.

    And that “read the piece I’m gonna write” smacks of confidence belying the jittery feeling you had in the beginning.

    What do you care about leadership anyway?

    Excellent song choice, once again. I love Karen’s pure, clear voice. Sigh.

    Q

    Liked by 3 people

  3. I concur … you can write! So you seem to be one of the early blogging empires! Well done – so you can say been there done that. To me, this explains the journey to this place – in a good way. And hey – not many people can admit to being a royal pain in the ass. Cheers.

    Liked by 3 people

  4. Q,

    The write stuff happens when you write about the right stuff, Right? 😉

    Like I said, I like to cook when I write. In a manner of speaking. It does follow the same basic steps. There’s the prep time in which you primp and pinch. You’ve got to have the right ingredients. Then you pretty it up and then you feast.

    You gotta be you. All of the you. Every last morsel.

    The whole point of it is to do it because it is what speaks to you. The big mistake people make when they do something is to care what others think about what they’re doing. Because it automatically paints the endeavor in something other than the truth.

    My words being out there this way is not the same thing. I was always told that when you achieve that great thing you will feel amazing. And yet, I felt nothing. It didn’t do anything for me. At all. That is frightening, to know that it didn’t excite you the way everybody says it should.

    That was said in order to shut that putz up. He was talking himself up as if he was Hemingway. And I can’t be around that. I just can’t.

    No kidding. Leadership ain’t getting us anywhere.

    Karen was one of a kind.

    B

    Liked by 1 person

    • Shit. I was wondering why you hadn’t responded to my per usual too-long-winded comment so I came back here. And there it is…not in response to my comment but a comment all by its lonesome. Ah well. C’est la vie.

      Stuff happens when YOU write the stuff you write. No ifs, ands or buts.

      Cooking does help release the tensions and allow our thoughts to flow, absolutely.

      Trying to be anyone but you is not only a waste of energy, it is a hard act to keep up.

      I know there are times when you (and I and any other writer) has to hold back a tad in case the wrong eyes land on it but still you do have to do what you care about, the others be damned.

      Maybe you don’t feel that amazing because it is truly something that means nothing to you. It is not YOUR great thing.

      It was said to her for him to hear. I like it even more. You have chutzpah to spare.

      We wouldn’t know about it because there are no leaders in our vicinity.. not leading countries, anyhow.

      She was.

      Like

  5. That’s so strange. I just got your notification in my sidebar but yeah, not with the reply option when I go onto the page. My thing is, how comes I didn’t get this comment in my sidebar before now? WP . . you glorious ghost ship of odd twists and turns and WTF’s! Buahahahaha!

    Stuff happens when I write the stuff that moves me, as this period of time did. And I mean, not to make more of it than other periods of life by any means, but as a writer, it was my first real “I get it” moments happening loud and clear. I knew where I belonged and where I didn’t. I found my voice. I figured out HOW to write, I really did.

    Treat writing as cooking, it’s tasty that way.

    People do it every day. For myriad reasons, none of which are crimes to anyone but them. And that’s the whole point of this. We can believe the world is against us when we feel differently about something, or we can see it and appreciate it for what it is. Our voice. We ain’t hurting or inconveniencing anyone but ourselves when we try to put on a different face.

    It’s all very different now, and I think it’s probably been that way for years. I mean, I probably could have done this same thing on Drinks, but it just didn’t occur to me to do so. I’m still leery about the cross contamination effect of certain eyes, for sure. But that’s just because there is an awkward dynamic to it. Hence, I don’t read comments because in the past when I’ve done so, I ran across peeps from the Gorilla! That was wild. And SO different, seeing as how I was an ass on that blog whereas on Drinks I was this mellow fellow who loved his adult beverage.

    It scared me at first, the fact that I didn’t feel that euphoria I was supposed to feel. But now I get it.

    Oh believe me, this dude was just such a jerk. It took everything in me not to turn his way and say something to the effect of “unlike this asshole, I’ll give you something that has nothing to do with my dick size!” LOL.

    That’s sad as hell. Imma vote in Aly Raissman for President. Because I can.

    That voice is haunting. Beautiful and haunting and so damned sad to me.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Again, this reply is not to my comment! Is this your way of enticing me back again and again? Just kidding. I know you don’t do that coz it ain’t your thing. It’s like you are making a straight-out comment instead of hitting reply. Anyhoo. No matters. I’m a pushy broad and I shall go snooping.

    Well then all I can say is I am happy you had your wild experience and that it pushed you to find your voice. Because it’s a great voice (to my liking anyway) And you definitely know how to write. I admire your skill greatly.

    Yep. A good and tasty way to.

    It’s funny you say that because everyone is so wrapped up in themselves (or the themself they portray) that they DO feel hurt when something is written that they interpret to be against them while all the while the writer (and anyone with a modicum of intelligence) knows it is all about his own thoughts and perspectives.

    I guess when you have had so many iterations of your writing self, the cross-contamination thing is a thing. I would never be for me. The not reading comments thing is a personal choice and there is nothing wrong with that! You keep it to a discussion between you and the writer and the rest is of no consequence.

    I guess it scared you because you were led to believe it should. And we know that the “shoulds” are not written in stone. We are all different.

    Haha! I think you used a more Shakespearean approach which was much more effective. And creative.

    It is sad.

    Yes. Her voice was absolutely real. In every way.

    Like

    • Not sure what in the hell I did differently, but I’ll take your word for it.

      Wild? Not sure. Educational, absolutely. I had no idea the things that were happening would paint my outlook on writing so strongly going forward. But holy mango, they kept!

      Bone (in) apetit!

      It reminds me of the fan-xiety that happens when a writer does something that a book or show’s fans do not dig on. Fans are a part of the process when a book, movie or show happens, there is no doubt about that. But just as Yankees fans have no effect on Aaron Judge’s immense talents, a fan of Game of Thrones has zero to do with George R.R. Martin’s amazing imagination. When fans step foot into that backyard, they’re dead wrong. Can you love it or hate it? Absolutely. But when you think you’re going to re-do their jam? Welp . . you’re just a mailman who thinks he’s God.

      The cross contamination is a thing, especially when I’ve crossed three blogs now. I think it’s best to play it close to the chest on this count, seeing as how I love the blog and don’t want to feel like somebody’s watching me.

      It’s when I had to just tell myself “Dude, don’t wreck. Just admit you don’t like the mac and cheese as much as the rest of the population,” Even my voices have an attitude, LOL.

      Although, I gotta wonder if old William ever had those thoughts lose themselves on paper. After which his editor was like “Billy, nah man . . this ain’t your rap dog! It will change every-A-thing if you call Hamlet a whack job of a white boy with mama drama,”

      It was the stuff of angels.

      Liked by 1 person

      • Well this one went where it should! Doesn’t matter. I’ll always go checking 😉

        Of course not at the time. It is difficult to learn as we are living it. Hindsight and all that. And…one’s “wild” is another’s *educational”.

        Wow. Well said. Fan-xiety. But really. Yeah. Fans can bitch and moan about adaptation but unless you are Annie Wilkes holding an axe, you won’t do a Paul Sheldon and change your original prose…and still you are not touching the author’s true imagination.

        Like I said. I’ve not your experience. I’ve only ever changed platform, not style.

        Haha! Dude. Listen to yourself.

        He was a writer. He had to sell his stuff. Who knows? Having watched how Cyrano was created (according to a movie) I would no be surprised there was some intervention here and there. Whether they ever accepted it or took any advice well, we were not there .

        It was.

        Liked by 1 person

        • Runaway comment! Last seen on the 501 heading somewhere!

          Wildly educational . . . howzat cover ’em thar bases? (A baseball reference for summertime).

          I was as pissed as the next person about Season 8 of GOT. And I’ve had my not so great moments with WD. But in the end, I realize that’s part of the deal. They write it and I partake. Or nawh. There ain’t no expectation on my part that they’re gonna remake the thing just for little ole me.

          The platforms were quite different. Gorilla was shameless. Drinks was mellow. Sorryless is a nice combination.

          I try but the voices, yanno?

          Cyrano, a favorite. Most all of them are in my book though. And yet, here is this true genius with the written word who was not so beloved back in his time.I just read a blog post about a person’s visit to Shakespeare’s birthplace. The whole town is about him. Now. But I imagine if you would have polled peeps back in his time, they would have scoffed at such an idea.

          And its SO hot? Now my fucking car battery is dead. Gimme one of those climate change doubters. Right now!

          Liked by 1 person

          • Sorry. Hit send before I was close to finishing!

            No kidding. People bitch and moan (myself included) when the movie/show does not meet my expectations. It’s why I now read the book AFTER (if at all). It’s always better and feels like the director’s cut.

            I kinda like Sorryless though I can only compare by the few posts you’ve shared here from The Gorilla.

            I know

            For sure they would have.

            Speaking of cars. I need to drive over that mess and go schlep some beer…that blows for yours, though

            Liked by 1 person

          • So umm . . you admit to not being perfect with comments either? 😉

            Hey, I just got another comment from you so that’s never a bad thing.

            Very, very clever. I never thought about it that way!

            I read back on the Gorilla, and some of the stuff I would never ever write now. Yes it was tongue in cheek, but still. I don’t concern myself with those who are sensitive to every little fucking thing, but I also am mindful of being kinder. There’s a way to be funny without being stupid.

            Yeah, waiting to hear back from the service. Oh well, it’s a “rain day”? LOL

            Liked by 1 person

          • Oh hell yes! I am faaaar from perfect in anything.😁

            Aww. That’s sweet

            Nor everyone agrees with me but I find I’m never disappointed this way.

            That’s your maturity sneaking in.

            Da fuck is a “rain day” unless you work outside?

            Liked by 1 person

  7. Brother man says 😎 to that. Anyone who can hold onto chorizo stuffed olives because their cooking repertoire far exceeds it . . is indeed perfect at somethings. Plural.

    Yep. I’m as sweet as Granny Smith apples. Which means slightly sour but overall-ish? Kinda on the sweet side.

    It does make a lot of sense.

    Maturity? Whazzat? Is it like this sarcasm thing I keep hearing about?

    You have rain days, I have my car battery died and I can’t make it in now days.

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s