Below the thunders of the upper deep; Far, far beneath in the abysmal sea, His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep The Kraken sleepeth: faintest sunlights flee About his shadowy sides: above him swell Huge sponges of millennial growth and height; And far away into the sickly light, From many a wondrous grot and secret cell Unnumbered and enormous polypi Winnow with giant arms the slumbering green. There hath he lain for ages and will lie Battening upon huge sea-worms in his sleep, Until the latter fire shall heat the deep; Then once by man and angels to be seen, In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die. — Alfred Lord Tennyson Remember those spooky artists renderings of sperm whales battling Giant Squids? Or the 19th century illustrations of boats being pulled down into the depths by tentacled arms? Well, it turns out, those stories were true. A crew of Scientists, funded by Discovery Channel and Japan's NHK TV, just filmed a bus sized Giant Squid in its natural habitat for the first time. As a writer, this intersection of mythology and … [Read more...] about Giant Squid: The Kraken Revealed
Millennium: Song of a New Year
Tonight, the moon is divided—half loss, half hope An hourglass or a clear luminosity diving through light-flecked clouds Low and golden, the way long-ago fish broke into the air the sky is restless tonight, like a sea mourning waves tossed carelessly on an abandoned shore of tumbled shells and scuttled ships Behind me, the hills are somber milestones my car is a ghost rushing past gas pumps, cantinas and fast-food grottos past gluttonous palaces and stoic churches, past neon signs that barter lust the world is intoxicated, mad with its own reflection, As slot machines echo divinity and release a cascade of tiny moons pressed with the faces of forgotten heroes The world is senile, filled to the gullet with sentiment and butchered flesh and the promise of more trinkets—Love has become anonymous an apocalyptic lullaby, a keepsake from a mythical land the radio sings and hisses and cajoles and like an interpreter of Pythian verse I’m listening for my redemption, listening hard, the way a leper clings to … [Read more...] about Millennium: Song of a New Year
Endings
In the horror of the hour the clock tower chimes a note of dread as stars and moon and sweet desire are swept away into the fire of the living and the dead for those of us who watch and see ghost flowers piled high, in palest snow with frozen breath, we tend the pyre for endings come and go The fragile pane of memory the dangling button at your sleeve soon to be lost forever the careless echoes the sad goodbye the moment missed the day you cried Shadows flee and clouds conspire to break us from the life we knew your hand was curled around a leaf with sorrow waiting underneath the blackest of taboos drift silently in opium haze Is that really all that’s left of you? There was a moment when I knew The sirens cleaved the world in two time dissolved —a public wake questions that will have to wait answers you can never make no second chance, or tethered hour nowhere to run or place to cower This is the end the goodbye we fear the black tide rising the broken year the winter seed on hardened ground the moment when we’re lost, not found the … [Read more...] about Endings
Brave New World of e-books
1. Write book on typewriter 2. Send to typesetter 3. Receive galley proof 4. Mark up galley proof 5. Create layout 6. Corrected proof arrives 7. Paste type to boards (including page numbers) 8. Send boards to printer 9. Correct blueline proof 10. Print 11. Distribute Sound crazy? Back in the day, publishing had a slow, relentless tempo, like a sacred choral work. Individual voices rose in gestalt to make a whole. Books were planned a year in advance. The minute there was a cover, the sales force courted bookstores and distributors. Editors and proofreaders checked every dangling participle and questionable fact. Copywriters wrote sales pitches and back covers. The art department assembled the physical object. Finally, the book was printed, boxed and sent out into the world. Licenses were handed out to foreign publishers and the process repeated. The Heirarchy of publishing grew around this process; writers, publishers, editors, copy writers, art directors, proof-readers, traffic controllers, marketers, publicists, salespeople, etc. … [Read more...] about Brave New World of e-books
Day of the Dead: A Walk in the Graveyard
Every Autumn, Dia De Los Muertos or Day of the Dead blossoms from the very earth of Los Angeles, a potent integration of ancient Aztec rituals and the Catholic All Saint's Day. Flower shrines or ofrendas appear honoring the dead. Votive candles flicker beside yellowing photographs of the departed and graves are piled high with bright chrysanthemums, baby's breath and cockscombs, symbolizing the blood of Christ. By night fall, groups of friends and families stroll casually through neighborhoods, their faces painted like sugar skulls, wearing black hats tipped at a jaunty angle or flowing veils attached to garlands of fragrant gladiolus and roses. LA has always been intrigued by Dia De Los Muertos, it's in our bones. My writing partner Alix Sloan when she lived in LA, was a curator with the La luz De Jesus Gallery whose owner Billy Shire was one of the first people to bring the curious Day of the Dead artifacts from Mexico; elaborately painted plaster skulls and tableus of skeletons dressed in their Sunday best, enjoying the pleasures of life. My friend Erin, an … [Read more...] about Day of the Dead: A Walk in the Graveyard
L-O-O-K
Some memories are like mile markers on the road. I remember the moment distinctly. Sitting at my desk as my teacher ran her finger under four white letters. Until that moment, the letters were separate and unremarkable. Each had a sound of course. We’d even learned an alphabet song to memorize the letters. We’d traced the shapes again and again, repeating each consonant and vowel. But now, as my first grade teacher spoke aloud, my world shook to its very core. L-O-O-K, she said, tapping the L, two O’s and the K with her chalk. Look. The familiar word I’d heard a thousand times had a form, a way to be communicated on the blackboard or on paper. The mangle of markings that filled the books in my father’s library were suddenly accessible, it was only a matter of time. I was about to learn to read. The word look still haunts me. It was a portent, a command. Be a watcher. See the world as it is. Look deeper, past the tricks and illusions, past the lies and distortions. Look and see the truth of things. After that, I loved writing and I loved writers. Writers were the … [Read more...] about L-O-O-K
Scribblings, writings, musings
Scribblings, writings, musings Delectable delicacies for your mental palate Lovely lashing of cherry picked pronouns Minty fresh dollops of creamy connotations Vichyssoises of various verbs Sweet spoonfuls of nouns to nibble upon With only a sprinkle of ambiguity And for desert Alluring alliterations Meaningful metaphors With a dash of chocolate verisimilitude And a heady apéritif of flaming myth Bon appetite … [Read more...] about Scribblings, writings, musings