Journal Entry #32: MY Song

Date: November 30, 2007
Time: 22:12

Back around 1977 or 1978, I was listening to the radio, during one of those time when I was allowed to do so, and back when AM Radio played music. It was the time of 77WABC and 66WNBC. This was a good thing as the radio I had at the time only received AM signals.

It was early one evening and this song came on. It was a purely instrumental piece, and it sounded so beautiful, I actually began to waltz around my bedroom. Unfortunately, the DJ never told what the title, or who the artist was. All I know is, that song made me feel so good, I was honestly happy, and even relaxed while it was on. But then, to make matters worse, it would be years before I ever heard it again.

Fast forward to 1983, and I'm living in Cottage 12 in Hawthorne Cedar Knolls School. My roommate is at home for the weekend, so I decided to listen to his radio. Yes, this one had FM, and this was back when WPAT was playing what they used to call "dentist office music". And yes, that song played again, and once again, I felt happy. Until the station broke for a commercial, and the DJ never mentioned the title or artist.

Cut to: My Grandmother's livingroom. I'm sitting, watching TV, and a commercial comes on, "Eric Roberts Plays the Piano Greats". Now this was not the Eric Roberts who is an actor and brother to Julia. This was a different Eric Roberts, who played the piano. (I know you can see where this is going, but let me get there in my own way.) So, I'm watching this commercial, well, staring at it really, and the announcer says "Eric Roberts plays 'Musicbox Dancer'", and I hear the strains of the one song in the entire world that can make me feel good, and I sprung up from the chair. I pointed at the screen and shouted "That's it! That's the song!"

But it would a few more years until I found out the name of the artist, Frank Mills, and it would be some time before I was able to get my hands on a copy.

But now, I have a 45 record that I was able to get through a co-worker, I have a cassette tape that has quite a few other tunes by the same artist, I have a CD with a newer version, and I have the CD edition of the cassette. I think I'm covered now.

And now I'm going to feel happy for while.

Bye now.

Journal Entry #31: More Than "Funny Books"

Date: November 29, 2007
Time: 22:51

Sometime ago, a friend recommended I read the graphic novel version of a series called "Sandman". He claimed I wouldn't be disappointed. I wasn't.

It was just about the most interesting series I'd ever read. It also introduced me to one of the finest authors I ever read, Neil Gaiman. He's written many short stories and a great many novels. There are two that are my absolute favorites, they are "Good Omens" and "Neverwhere".

"Good Omens" is best described like this, imagine 'Damien' from "The Omen", accidentally winding up the son of accountants, while an otherwise normal little boy, ends up in the hands of Satanists.

While "Neverwhere" takes you on a trip through a London no one usually sees.

But while the storylines that involved "Sandman" directly were interesting, there was one one story that I've since learned was, in part, true. Although I have to point out this little aside. There was a scene where the caretaker of the Sandman's castle, one Merv Pumkinhead, was asked to install a new wing in the library. He came in, placed a ladder against a wall, and, like a paperhanger putting up wallpaper, installed a new wing of the library.

But back to the somewhat true story.

I thought it had been made up as it was appearing in a comic book. But I did a little research, and I found out it was true. It's the story of the first, and only Emperor of the United States.

On September 17, 1859, Joshua A. Norton lost everything he had in an attempt to corner the rice market. It was also on that day that he declared himself, Norton I, Emperor of the United States and Mexico.

And while a good deal of information, including the bit I'm about to include here, can be found at this site, http://www.sfmuseum.org/hist1/norton.html I have to mention this bit because I find it to be extremely funny:

January 21, 1867 – An overzealous Patrol Special Officer, Armand Barbier, arrested His Majesty Norton I for involuntary treatment of a mental disorder and thereby created a major civic uproar. Police Chief Patrick Crowley apologized to His Majesty and ordered him released. Several scathing newspaper editorials followed the arrest. All police officers began to salute His Majesty when he passed them on the street.

Journal Entry #30: Fear

Date: November 28, 2007
Time: 23:33

I'm not a fan of Woody Allen, but he said something once that I tend to agree with. He said, "I don't want to achieve immortality through my work, I want to achieve it by not dying."

Some semesters ago, I had to write a research paper for ENGL135. I got it written, and I used myself as a couple of examples. Oh, I wrote about fears and phobias.

I fear rejection, in fact, I have an almost paralyzing fear of it. I say "almost paralyzing fear" because up until I submitted one of my stories for publication, I had a "paralyzing fear" of rejection. There is a phrase people tend to throw about whenever someone is afraid to say something to someone else, for instance, asking your boss for a raise. The phrase is "What's the worst that could happen? So they say 'No'."

Um, excuse me, but, for someone who fears rejection to the extent that I do, being told 'No', is the worst that could happen. Being told 'No' is devastating to me. Even when I submitted my stories to be copyrighted, there was always the possibility that someone else could have written something similar enough for me to be rejected. Like my story entitled "The Family of Man", all while I was writing it, I kept thinking and saying to myself, "I've read this before." or "I know I've read this", or "I know I've seen this before."

And then, one day, I got an envelope from the US Copyright Office. It was thin enough for them to have mailed that story back to me. But when I opened it up, it turned out there was a slight problem with another submission. It seems I had gotten too technical when I listed what I had written and/or created in regards to the story.

I can hear you saying, "See? You were worried over nothing." It is not nothing, to me, it is everything. Now, sooner or later, I'll probably submit another story for publication, but it's going to take a while.

For anyone who might be interested in reading my research paper, here is the link,

http://www.geocities.com/lyoskowitz/My_Research_Paper.html

It is within that paper where you can read of my other fear.

Journal Entry #29: Television

Date: November 27, 2007
Time: 23:46

I didn't almost forget this time, I was kind of putting it off. For once, not only was I unsure of what to write, I wasn't too sure I wanted to write at all.

Like I said a couple of times already, I get really emotional around the holidays, and as such, I tend to feel what I call the “Woman get away from me ‘cause I can’t stand the sight of you” Blues. But I'm going to try and talk about something else in this entry.

I would like to talk about Television, and of the many programs that are my favorites.

There are comedies, dramas, which I guess you could ascribe to almost any program. It's the "sub-genre" that...

Oh forget it. I'll just talk about one show in particular right now, "The West Wing".

When I first heard that there was going to be a television series that took place in the White House, I thought to myself "A show about the White House? Aw man, it's gonna be crap!" And then, I found out that Martin Sheen was going to be playing the President, and I thought to myself, "Aw man, Martin Sheen as the President? It's gonna be full of political rhetoric!"

And then I caught a rerun of an episode on Bravo, and then I caught another episode. It was the second episode that got me hooked. Here's the scenario:

Deputy Communications Director Sam Seaborn (Rob Lowe) is appearing on an early morning talk show. As he is presenting the view of the Democrat, or the Liberal side, there must be equal time given to the Republicans, or the Conservative side. This is represented by a vivacious young woman named Ainsley Hayes (Emily Procter).

The discussion begins and Sam is on a roll, but then the host, played by Ted McGinley asks Ms. Hayes for her opinion. She begins speaking and follows through by basically reading Sam the riot act. She then corrects him on an error in geography, he stated a town as being in Oregon when it was really in California. When they break for a commercial, Sam says, under his breath, "Please don't let anyone be watching." The scene then cuts to the interior of the White House and Deputy Chief of Staff Josh Lyman comes barreling into Communications Director Toby Ziegler's office and says, "Toby, come quick, Sam's getting his ass kicked by a girl.", to which Toby turns to his assistant, Ginger, and says, "Ginger, get the popcorn." Cut to opening titles.

That scene, the little bit between Josh and Toby made me laugh, and was what got me hooked on the series.

When a character was killed in Season 3, I too, wanted to cry. When they recovered the President's youngest daughter at the beginning of Season 4, I was choked up, but cheering. But when John Spencer, who played White House Chief of Staff Leo McGarry, died of a heart attack in real life, I almost did cry. John Spencer made a lot of his career out of playing character roles, but as Leo, he shined.

There is moment between Josh and Leo from Season 2 that I would like to share. At the end of Season 1, shots were fired at the President and his staff as they left a "Town Hall" meeting. The President and Josh were hit, and Josh almost died. In the Christmas episode of Season 2, we learn that Josh is suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and talks with a psychiatrist, played by Adam Arkin. Leo brings him in when Josh yells at the President, IN THE OVAL OFFICE.

Later, after the session is over, Josh sees that Leo had been waiting for him. When Josh suggests that he go and apologize to the President, in hopes of keeping his job, Leo tells him a story.

This guy's walking down the street when he falls in a hole. The walls are so steep he can't get out. A doctor passes by, and the guy shouts up, "Hey, you, can you help me out?" The doctor writes a prescription, throws it down in the hole and moves on. Then a priest comes along, and the guy shouts up, "Father, I'm down in this hole. Can you help me out?" The priest writes a prayer, throws it down in the hole and moves on. Then a friend walks by. "Hey, Joe, it's me. Can you help me Out" And the friend jumps in the hole. Our guy says, "Are you nuts? Now we're both down here." The friend says, "Yeah, but I've been down here before - and I know the way out."

Leo then tells Josh, "As long as I have a job, you have a job."

Looking back, I don't think anyone else could have delivered those lines in quite the same way as John Spencer.

Journal Entry #28: Sentimentality

Date: November 26, 2007
Time: 22:45

I mentioned in an earlier post that holidays tend to make me a bit more emotional than usual. So I signed on to make an entry tonight, and there was something on the first page about uploading videos from YouTube. Hmm, let’s see, I’m a bit of an emotional wreck during the holidays, and YouTube has all manner of videos that are likely to set me off. Oh golly, whatever shall I do?

I’ve so far bookmarked “Do They Know It’s Christmas”, “We Are The World”, “Tears Are Not Enough”, which is by a group of Canadian singers, and just now, “Sun City” by Artists United Against Apartheid. Sometimes, you get a wave of nostalgia when you see videos from over 20 years ago, but what’s really interesting about these videos is who you see taking part and singing. People like Daryl Hannah, but when you realize she was going with Jackson Browne at the time then it’s not so difficult to see.

But the really interesting bit, the really, really bizarre moment occurred when I got more choked up watching and listening to the “Sun City” video, than I did from watching the other three. It just goes to show you, the least little thing can affect you in ways you never dream of.

Journal Entry #27: Super Powers

Date: November 25, 2007
Time: 23:12

When I was growing up, on the rare occasion I was allowed to go out and play, one of the games we played was “Superheroes”, and no matter what, everyone got angry with me when I wanted to play “Superman”. One of the reasons they got so peeved is they didn’t think of it first. And the other reason? There was nothing the “bad guys” could do to him to hurt him. Thinking back on it, I was amazed that no one ever thought to use Kryptonite. Could it have been sheer forgetfulness on their part, or did they think “I” would find some way to get away from it too soon to make the game fun?

In any event, long after that, I’d always wanted Superman’s powers. To be able to fly, and not only to anywhere on Earth, but to anywhere in the galaxy, or even the universe. To be able to look up at the stars, and see planets orbiting those stars. Yeah, I know, “X-Ray Vision”, woo-hoo. But, believe it or not, that novelty would wear off pretty quickly, because look at everything else there is to see, especially when you have microscopic vision. You could see the building blocks of the universe, and then, back to telescopic vision, and see what they built.

Now, there are times, like even now while I’m writing this, that I would like to have certain kinds of powers. For instance, as much as I dislike Marvel Comics, they used to have a character that had a rather unique power. His name was Cypher, and he could read, write, and understand, any written language that ever existed. His ability to do that stemmed from the fact that he was part of that group that most of the world (in Marvel) knows as a mutant. But, as that was the only mutant ability he had, and as he was only a “fair” hand-to-hand combatant, he lost his life during an adventure with a group that called themselves, “The New Mutants”. Clever name, huh? Regardless, of that, there are times, when I think it would be nice to have that particular little power.
But then, a thought occurs to me. I think about what my life was like when I was growing up. I was extremely short, in comparison to everyone else, and I knew sod all about defending myself. Throughout my life, my mother instilled one main idea into our heads, “Speak your mind. Never be afraid to speak your mind.” This from a woman, who, upon being told she had no talent for embroidery, stopped doing it for something like 30 years. Unfortunately, she never said anything about tact, or diplomacy.

For a long while, we lived in a not-so-nice neighborhood. We lived in one of the many city projects that dot the borough of Brooklyn. If it was too cold for my mother to sit outside, I couldn’t go out and play. So on those days, I was stuck in the house. To this day, I hate Sundays for the simple reason that there is absolutely NOTHING on television. So on the Sundays I was stuck in the house, all I was left with was reading. Therefore, it’s my mother’s fault for me having an Eighth grade reading average in the Fourth grade. Well, that, and the fact I have a very good memory.

Speaking of my very good memory, I remember a great deal of wrong that was dealt to me while I was growing up. Being picked on for no other reason than to get a reaction from me, or just because the other guy was bigger. With that in mind, and with my mother’s side of the family’s penchant for holding a grudge, I came up with a nifty little power of my own. I would be able to make someone else feel everything I have ever gone through in my entire life so far, in the space of thirty seconds. Think about it, at this moment, I am 42 years old, and I would make another person feel everything emotion, every feeling I have had every moment of my life, from birth until now, and all in a time span of 30 seconds.

There would, of course, be one or two drawbacks. One, would be that I would have to be a short distance from them, say a maximum of 30 feet, and there is the possibility of being recognized by someone from my past, of indeed that’s who I was going after, but experience with friends, or at least one friend, has shown me that people I knew from more than 20 years ago are hard-pressed to remember me at first glance. But of course, I would never let them try and recognize me in the first place, so I’m probably pretty safe in that regard.

What’s that you say? “What’s the other drawback?” Well, it is very likely, that such an onslaught of emotions, in that space of time, with no real defense either against it, or in dealing with it, the person the force was aimed at would most likely die. Or, at the very least, turn into either a catatonic vegetable, or a gibbering idiot. Now I’d vote for gibbering idiot, but with some of the morons who picked on me, who’d know the difference?

Journal Entry #26: Pointlessness

Date: November 24, 2007
Time: 23:45

Sometimes I wonder, “What’s the point of it all?” I mean really, what is the point? What’s it all for? Why am I spending thousands of dollars that I’ll be paying off for the rest of eternity? What’s at the end of all this, really, seriously? The big problem I have with a lot of this, as I explained before is, I don’t know what I want to do!

I only seem to know what I don’t want. I don’t want to own, operate, start, or manage a business. I don’t want to be an accountant, or a financial analyst. I don’t want to be a programmer; I don’t want to be a computer system troubleshooter, if there is such a thing. In short, what the hell am I doing here if I don’t like a great deal of the classes I have to take for a degree that will probably do me no good if I have to take yet another job I DON’T WANT?!?

Do I have to beg? Really, do I have to beg and plead for someone to give me some sort of a test that will finally tap into my creative side? None of this crap about two trains traveling at different speeds, no math questions, nothing to do with “the purest form of logic”. Show me some pictures and ask me to write a story, or give me an idea for a story. In other words, let me write, it seems to be the only thing I’m happy with doing. But no, none of these people will let me.

So I ask again, what's the point?

Journal Entry #25: Holiday Funk

Date: November 23, 2007

Time: 22:18

Before the “experts” came up with a fancy-sounding name for it, “Seasonal Affective Disorder” or “SAD”, people got the blues around the holidays. Sometime they would go into a deep funk that in some instances, they don’t get out of until around 2 weeks after the start of Spring.

I get out of it just in time for the beginning of Summer.

Now, it’s easy to understand if someone gets misty-eyed, or choked up when they hear an emotionally charged Christmas song, say “Little Drummer Boy”, or “I’ll Be Home For Christmas”, but can anyone explain to me why someone would get teary-eyed when they hear “Step Into Christmas” by Elton John? I mean, just look at the lyrics.

Welcome to my Christmas song
I'd like to thank you for the year
So I'm sending you this Christmas card
To say it's nice to have you here
I'd like to sing about all the things
Your eyes and mind can see
So hop aboard the turntable
Oh step into Christmas with me

Step into Christmas
Let's join together
We can watch the snow fall forever and ever
Eat, drink and be merry
Come along with me
Step into Christmas
The admission's free

Take care in all you do next year
And keep smiling through the days
If we can help to entertain you
Oh we will find the ways
So merry Christmas one and all
There's no place I'd rather be
Than asking you if you'd oblige
Stepping into Christmas with me

Now, do you see anything in those lyrics that could evoke a wave of sadness? Neither do I, and yet, this morning, that’s exactly what happened to me. The song came on, and I started getting all choked up. The last time that that happened was Christmastime 2001. So okay, maybe at that time, when it didn’t really feel like Christmas, a cheery song like that one isn’t going to make things feel any better, it might just makes things worse by trying to evoke happiness where there is only sadness and misery.

However, after that, any time I heard the song, I had no problem. There were no tears, no choking up, nothing. Why now? Why after all that time am I affected this way? Maybe if I wasn’t so stressed by my having to have gone back to school, or if I had a job that I tolerated more than the one I have now, or even the one I had before.

Maybe if I knew what it was like to be honestly and truly happy, and to have that feeling last for more than a few minutes. To be able to sustain feeling happy for a lot longer than I have been feeling it lately, which, to tell the truth, is never.

Journal Entry #24: Time Out/Time Off

Date: November 22, 2007
Time: 21:38

I’ll get back to “If We Ran Marvel” another time, right now, I need a break. I need time off from my job; I need time off from DeVry. I need to not only get away from both places, but I need time to clear my head. What I believe I need is about a month away. Yes, I know, I have to come back, but it’s still a whole month, give or take a few hours, away from that which makes me crazy.

What I need is to have two weeks out of the city, out of the state, and maybe even out of the 48 continuous United States, and both Alaska and Hawaii are out, and stay in some cabin somewhere. Just me, a cabin, a bunch of books to read, and NOTHING ELSE! Someone will drop me off with enough supplies to keep me from starving for two weeks, and at the end of two weeks, that person will pick me up and drop me off at the airport, or bus station, or train station, whichever one is available. Then, for the next two weeks, I will spend that time re-acclimating myself to the city.

But just think about the first two weeks. No people, no worries about sub-contractors not doing their job, not having to deal with any “Authority”, whether it’s the Port Authority or the School Construction Authority. Not getting swamped with enough work to keep 5 accounting clerks happier than a pig in a waller. Imagine, no worries about tests, or mid-terms, or finals. No worries about whether you should take more classes for the “B” Session, or any sessions for that matter. To just be alone and not having to deal with anything for two whole weeks.

To me, that sounds like sheer heavenly bliss.

Journal Entry #23: Ramblings

Date: November 21, 2007
Time: 23:28

Oops, this is the second time I almost forgot about this. Well, I have said I’ve been a bit addled lately. The holidays tend to do that to me, along with all the rest that’s going on in my head at the moment. Being that tomorrow is Thanksgiving, I’m feeling very unhappy over the fact that I can’t be in Chicago. As I said before, I’m a Doctor Who fan and there’s a Doctor Who convention in that takes place over the Thanksgiving weekend in Chicago. Back in the 90s, it was a science-fiction convention, with actors and people who were connected with Doctor Who at the forefront of the convention.

The convention was called “Visions” and it was run by an organization that called itself “Her Majesty’s Entertainment”. They ran from 1990, until 1998. Then, in 2000, a man named Gene Smith, who owns a store called Alien Entertainment, picked up the torch and began staging conventions. However, these conventions narrowed the guest list and stayed with Doctor Who actors, actresses, and other production related people.

I had the opportunity to attend the 2003 convention, which held great significance for me for a few reasons. Reason 1 was that it was the 40th Anniversary of the start of the programme. Reason 2, was that after I attended that convention, I wouldn’t be able to attend any more until I found a job that would pay me enough to be able to afford to go, and give me enough vacation time to go. Reason 3, was that it gave me a chance to meet another actor who had portrayed the Doctor a second time, Reason 4, one of the guests, character actor Michael Sheard, died a few months later, but I not only got a chance to meet and talk with him, but I have all of his books personally autographed, and finally, Reason number 5.

All of the actors/guests laughed at something I said.

The night before the convention actually starts; there is a little gathering for all attendees who spend a little extra to attend this little party. So, I get to the room where the party is being held, and I find a table and sit down, and they all come over and sit at my table. I look up at Michael Sheard and I sort of recognize him. I mention that I think I know him from somewhere, and he tells me one of the Doctor Who stories he was featured in. It is then that I remember him from an episode called “Remembrance of the Daleks”. He portrayed the headmaster of the Coal Hill School, and the unwitting tool of the Imperial Dalek faction. He attacked my favorite companion Ace, by jamming his knee into her stomach. She then retaliated by kneeing him in the happy sack.

As we discussed this, he mentioned that he had spoken with the actress who portrayed Ace, Sophie Aldred, and he made note of the fact that “she sounded rather subdued.” to which Frazer Hines, who use to portray companion Jamie McCrimmon asked how many children Ms. Aldred has at present, to which the answer was two. To which I replied, “That’s enough to subdue anybody!”

And everyone laughed at my little joke.

I smiled.

Journal Entry #22: If We Ran Marvel Part II

Date: November 20, 2007
Time: 22:08

One of the biggest changes in the Marvel Universe that I foresee causing all sorts of arguments, besides what we have planned for the X-Men, is what to do with what can be considered the premiere group of the Marvel Universe, “The Fantastic Four”.

As most readers are aware, the Fantastic Four was created when an experimental rocket ship, built by Reed Richards, piloted by Benjamin Grimm, and crewed by siblings Susan and Johnny Storm, flew through the Van Allen radiation belt, and the passengers of the rocket were bombarded by cosmic radiation. The ship crashed, and all four were found to possess strange powers. Reed Richards had the ability to stretch himself in a variety of ways; Susan Storm gained the ability to turn invisible, project invisible shields and invisible projectiles, Susan’s brother Johnny gained the ability to turn into a “human torch”, and Ben Grimm became super strong when his body was transformed and became covered with a coating of orange rocks.

Okay, most of that is not going to be changed. What will be changed, however, are two aspects of their origin, and where their headquarters are located. Okay, first thing: Instead of trying to “beat the Russians”, which was the “in” thing to do at the time (It was the early ‘60s), we propose that Reed Richards has developed a new kind of radiation shield, and wanted to test it. He even went as far as to design and build his own craft with which to do this.

The second thing we would change is the reason the ship got hit by so much radiation in the first place. We decided on this: Reed and Ben are all set to go into space, everything that can possibly be accounted for has been accounted, but there is one thing that Reed never planned on occurring. The night before the launch, Susan and Johnny stow away. The added weight causes the ship to veer off-course, and enter a part of the Van Allen belt that has a higher level of radiation than where they were supposed to go. Now, you might ask, “But why didn’t Reed install a stronger shield?”, and the answer to that is, “As this was a test, Reed decided on a lower level shield as they were supposed to be traveling through an area of lower level radiation.” And now, for the other thing to be changed: The location of their headquarters. Instead of putting them in this enormous building in midtown Manhattan, and thereby be a target for every invading Galactus, Skrull, and Annihilus, I propose to put them in Brooklyn. The reason for Brooklyn instead of possibly Queens, or even Staten Island or the Bronx, is because Peter Parker has Queens covered. The Bronx does not have the access I wish to give them, and Staten Island is just out of the question.

Anyway, where I would like for them to be located is in Brooklyn Heights, as close to the docks on the East River as possible. The reason for that is their lab, storage areas, and launch bays can be in and under a large warehouse on the docks themselves. This will allow the “Pogo Plane”, the “FantastiCar”, and whatever other vehicles they use to have a subterranean and/or submerged launch. But the main reason to put them in Brooklyn Heights is that it is a really nice area. It is close to many forms of transportation, and Ben Grimm would feel a little at home seeing as Fulton Street is a short walk from where their house would be. By the way, the house would be specially designed by Reed Richards, with a special transport tube to allow them to travel to and from their “warehouse” with ease.

The transport tube uses magnetism in such a way that the vehicle that travels along the tube reaches extremely high speeds. This travel tube is one of Reed’s inventions. It is used by the Fantastic Four themselves, Captain America and the Avengers, and the X-Men. Since Captain America uses it, it is safe to assume that it has been purchased, or at least leased by the U.S. government. However, although it was bought or leased by the government, Reed, Ben, Johnny, and Sue are the only ones who are qualified to repair it if anything goes wrong. This goes for all of Reed’s inventions that are purchased, and/or leased by governments and businesses. This is because the technology is proprietary, and as such, will self-destruct if anyone but the members of the Fantastic Four tampers with it.

The character of Iron Man will be next.

Journal Entry #21: If We Ran Marvel

Date: November 19, 2007
Time: 23:16

Whenever me and my friend Ray get together, either on the phone or in person, our conversation usually turns to comic books, and then, invariably turns to what we would do to MARVEL Comics to make it better. You see, over the years, the powers-that-be at Marvel have been slowly and systematically ruining all of their titles.

So what Ray and I came up with was something of a DC Comics-like “Crisis on Infinite Earths” type of storyline, and then, we clean house. What follows is a bit of that housecleaning.

The first thing to be done is to separate all of the heroes. There are just too damn many of them operating in New York City. It has been reported that the basic reason for all of the heroes being in New York City is because many, if not most, of the writers and creators lived in New York City. All right, even though Steve Rogers, who would one day, grow up to be the man the world knows as Captain America, is alleged to come from New York City’s Lower East Side, or possibly even the area known as Hell’s Kitchen, we will let him remain to have come from either of those areas. It gives him character. However, we propose that his base of operations is to be Washington, D.C. He is headquartered at what is known as the “Old Executive Office Building”, or, as it is known by others, the “OEOB”. He is answerable to the White House Chief of Staff, and to the President of the United States.

With the previous paragraph in mind, let us briefly move on to The Avengers. One of the many things that are wrong with the Avengers is the same thing that is wrong with the X-Men; there are too many of them. While some may feel that having a large team with which to work is fine thing, sometimes less is more. But what we propose here is that there is to be one leader, and that is Captain America. The way it would work is like this.

The Avengers are now brought together by need. There are to be no regular members. As there are no regular members, there is no longer any need for meetings, and because there are no meetings, there is no need for a headquarters. Allow me to explain. An incident occurs that requires more than one hero; Captain America goes from his office in the OEOB to a special room in the Pentagon. He travels by means of a superspeed underground rail system. He then enters the situation into a computer. The computer analyzes the situation and calls up the names of those heroes, and heroines, which are the best ones suited for the job at hand. Now, one might ask “What if that person isn’t available?” Well, the answer is, “Cap will just have to find someone else.” This opens up all sorts of possibilities in that the available person just might not like Captain America.

Take for instance, the resident archer extraordinaire Hawkeye, aka Clint Barton. It could be that Hawkeye was on a previous mission with Cap and the rest of whomever was called, and something happened that Hawkeye did not like, and for which, Cap was ultimately responsible, or vice versa. So say another occasion arises that calls for an expert in archery. Hawkeye could say he does not want to get into another situation like before, but naturally, Cap will appeal to Hawkeye’s sense of duty, and thereby make him join up. Which of course means it may not work the next time he gets called. Did I make that clear enough? I sure hope so, because I don’t think I could go through it again.

So, getting back to what I was saying at the beginning of all this, The Avengers, being that they have a rotating membership, might not always come back with the same people they left with. In short, one, or several members of the team, may die. And they will stay dead.

Now that’s not to say that every month a major character is in danger of being killed, there are some B-Level heroes that aren’t always used, and they seem to be more resilient than cockroaches. In any event, this new Avengers can be considered almost a duplicate of DC Comics’ Suicide Squad, but without the exploding bracelets.

More to Come

Journal Entry #20: Being Me

Date: November 18, 2007
Time: 21:31

Every once in a while, and it hasn’t happened for quite some time now, I get this feeling where I’m tired of being me. I’m tired of everything that’s going on around me; I’m tired of putting up with everything that’s going on around me. I’m tired of my job, and even when I was having difficulty in finding one, I was tired of that. I’m just tired with being me, and I feel that it’s someone else’s turn.

I mentioned this to a friend of mine once. He gave me a fantastic answer, “You need a vacation.” Y’know, if I ever decided to get talked out of suicide, he’s the one I would call last. He didn’t stop to think that even if I were to go anywhere, I’d have to come back, and if I went anywhere and came back, I’d Still Be Me.

So even after deciding that maybe someone else should have the privilege of being me, after all, I shouldn’t be the only one to have this much misery, I figured out why I’m stuck with the job; no one else wants it. And I don’t blame them one bit.

But regardless of all that, I do need a break. I think I may have mentioned this in an earlier post, but my brain has been so addled lately that I’m not sure I remember exactly when. But I need a break. I need to get out of town, possibly out of the state, maybe even out of the country. I need to maybe go to London for two weeks instead of the usual one week, and then spend about two or three weeks just resting. But if that were to happen, there would have to be one proviso that would guarantee my returning. Things would have to change.

My job, for the most part, that would have to go. I am sick and tired of working for a construction contractor. I don’t belong there, I’ve never been comfortable there, and I don’t like it there.

The next thing that would have to change is being at school. I don’t feel I belong at DeVry either. I don’t know what school I’m meant to be attending, or even if I'm meant to go to school, but wherever it is, or is not, I know it’s not where politics and profit margins rule the day.

And finally, as much as I like living where I do, being close to everything I need, I wouldn’t mind living above ground for a change. It has been over twenty years since I moved into this basement apartment.

But none this is going to happen. Why? Simple answer: Because I can’t go anywhere in the first place. I don’t have the time, nor do I have the money. So, what else ya got?

I look forward to an answer.

Journal Entry #19: Fitting In

Date: November 17, 2007
Time: 21:53

I guess you would refer to this entry as something of a follow-up to “Acceptance”. The reason is I still don’t feel like I fit in anywhere. This isn’t some once in a while feeling, okay, maybe it rises to the surface every so often, but the feeling is always there.

I’m not really sure what it is exactly. Sometimes I feel like I was born at the wrong time, and I don’t mean night or day. I mean the year, the decade, sometimes even the century. Sometimes it’s a matter of geography. Was I really meant to be born in Brooklyn, or was it somewhere else in New York? Come to think of it, who says it had to have been in New York at all? Hell, come to that, who says it has to have been anywhere on the East Coast? There are even times when I wonder if I was really meant to be born in the United States.

And then, there’s that once in a while moment, when I’m laying in bed, the lights are off because I’m trying for some sleep, that little feeling that maybe, just maybe, I was supposed to either have been born, or have yet to be born, on another planet. And no, I don’t think it’s one of the planets in this particular solar system.

I just don’t know.

Journal Entry #18: Part III

Date: November 16, 2007
Time: 22:10

The final dream I remember with vivid clarity took place in a park. Sort of.

The grass was a very dark green, and the trees were filled with green leaves. This would say to most people that it was either spring or summer. It was a cloudy day, and I was with some friends. We were tossing a large ball around and on this one toss to me, I missed it. No surprise there as I am lousy when it comes to sports.

The ball got past me and bounced onto this patio. Or at least it looked like a patio from where I was standing. When I got closer, I found out it was an upper deck of a ship. There were lounge chairs and tables for card playing, and these oddly shaped trees in these odd-looking pots. The trees were small, but their trunks twisted and curved themselves in strange ways. But what really made them look odd was the shelf that stood between the top of the pot and the middle of the tree. It was like something out of “The Jetson’s”.

There were a great many elderly people lounging about, and I excused myself and “begged pardon” on a grand scale. I couldn’t understand why at the time, but I felt as though I didn’t belong there, and I should be as polite as I could until I could find a way to get out of there. I remember I was holding the ball, and as I was being complimented on how polite I was I was invited to stay a while until the ship was ready to leave. And I said “I don’t think I belong here.” But some of them were insistent that I stay, and I kept telling them that I didn’t belong there.

I remember I kept on say that until I woke up.

My relating these dreams has been somewhat difficult for me in some ways as it dredges up a lot of memories associated with the dream. In point of fact, it dredges up the dream. I mean, yeah, I remember it and all, but I'm not in the habit of talking about it.

Journal Entry #17: Dreams, Part II

Date: November 15, 2007

Time: 22:35

There were two dreams I had that were so vivid; I didn’t wake up when I started talking. You see, I have found that if I talk in a dream, I wake myself up. It’s as though my silence gives the dream a chance to finish. I wonder if by talking, I’m introducing a form of logic into a moment that is supposed to have no logic at all.

In any event, this one particularly vivid dream had me in a cemetery.

No idea how I got there, or why I was there, except I think I was walking through as a form of a short cut to somewhere else. Well, whatever the reason I was there, I remember walking off to the right, and I got to what was the top of a small hill. At the top of this hill was a small red brick building, probably a mausoleum. To the right of that was a large blackish-gray headstone. It was large enough to have a large enough base that would allow a person to sit on the base comfortably enough and be able to lean their back against the upright portion of the stone.

Sure enough, on the side of the stone that faced towards the bottom of the hill sat an old woman. She was dressed rather nicely, even wearing one of those old-fashioned hats with a knit veil on it. Even though it was a dream, the say this was happening on was bright and sunny. The woman appeared to be watching a funeral. I could tell from the expression on her face that it was hers. She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief a few times and I thought it rude of me to just stand there. So I went over and asked if anything was wrong.

Yeah, I know, dumb question, but I figured it would break the ice a little. She said how sad she was that her family had to go through this, what with her being ill and then dying. I looked down toward the burial site and saw how many people were gathered. All the seats were taken, a few more had been brought out from the chapel, and still there were a lot of people standing. I pointed out to her that with all that many people gathered to say goodbye that her family must have loved her dearly, regardless of having to deal with whatever illness she had. She looked back at the crowd that had lined up to throw flowers on the coffin, and she smiled, and then she said to me “You are a very astute young man. Thank you.” And she vanished.

Shortly after that, I woke up.

~Part 3 tomorrow~

Journal Entry #16: Dreams

Date: November 14, 2007
Time: 21:31

I don’t know where I read this, or even heard this, but someone once said that we dream in black and white. I don’t know what that guy was on, but I’ve always dreamt in color. And I have had a few dreams that have stuck in my mind. I even had a dream repeat itself. What I mean by that is this; I had a particular dream twice.

Let me explain.

When I was about five years old, I dreamed I was walking along a concrete walkway. I remember my father and brother were with me, and we were mingled with a lot of other people. And we all were walking along this pathway.

Soon, and this was still within the dream, we walked through this gate, and onto this enormous platform. It was situated above this gigantic waterfall. I remember looking out past the edge and seeing the water, but we were so high up, and the waterfall was so large and powerful, the mist prevented you from seeing any further than a few feet. I suddenly felt a little dizzy, so I sank slowly to the floor. I reached out my right hand, and with my thumb, forefinger, and middle finger, touched the floor. I remember feeling the cold of the concrete, and the roughness of it, and then I woke up.

About 13 years later, I was about to graduate high school, and one evening, I had that dream again. Everything was exactly the same as it was when I had the dream when I was five. Even down to waking up when I felt the cold and rough surface of the platform.

When my parents and I lived up in Co-Op City in the Bronx, we lived in the part of Co-Op City they called “Section 5”. There were five sections and we lived in the fifth. They had 3 main configurations of apartment buildings in Co-Op, as we called it. There was the Tower Building, which was 33 stories high and looked like a large ‘X’ in a small box. Then there was the “Triple Core”, which not only had 26 stories, but was in 3 sections, and then there was the Chevron, so named because that was the shape. That had 24 floors and was in two sections.

They also had what was referred to as “Townhouses”. They were a series of two-story structures, and each level had one apartment. The top apartment had a balcony, while the bottom apartment had a backyard. Oh, and in case you were wondering, and even if you weren’t, the Tower had 384 apartments, the Triple-Core had 500, and the Chevron had 414. I used to deliver this weekend supplement and I had to count how many apartments in each building I delivered to so I would be sure to have enough.

Now, Section 5 had two sets of Triple-Core apartment buildings, and in the center of each set was a very large sandbox. In each sandbox was a series of structures and playsets made of wood.

One night, long after I had moved out of my parents’ house, I dreamed I was walking into Section 5. I was coming in from Section 4, via “Killer Curve”. Coming into Section 5 that way let’s you into where one of the sets of Triple-Cores are located, along with the sandbox. One of the things that clued me in on this being a dream is that I was wearing nothing but my underwear and a t-shirt. I then got caught in this small wooden house like structure in the sandbox. I remember saying, out loud mind you, “This is a dream. I’ll wake up, get out of this, and then, when I close my eyes again, I’ll be out.”

And that’s exactly what I did, and that’s exactly what happened.

~To be continued~

Journal Entry #15: Good For..?

Date: November 13, 2007
Time: 22:38

I have asked this question, I’ve posed it, and I’ve posited it, I’ve even begged it, “What am I good for?” And no one seems to know the answer. So I attempt to elaborate. I say “I know what I’m good at; I want to know what I’m good for.” Still no luck, still no answer, just quizzical looks. So I have to really get technical about it, I have to list all that I know how to do, all that I’ve learned so far, and then, just for kicks, I throw in the natural talents I bring when I walk in the door. I have this innate gift for remembering things.

When I was younger, we never needed a TV Guide in our house. I’d read through it, and then all anyone needed to do was give me the day and time and I would rattle off all of the programs that were on that night. To this day, I can remember the phone number we had when we lived in Brooklyn; I can also remember the phone number of this girl from my second grade class. Of course I can’t recall her last name for the life of me, but I can remember her phone number. I can remember almost anything I’ve ever read, heard, or seen in my entire life. I can go up to my bookcase, look at the title of a book, and start remembering words and sentences and plot points, all without looking at the back of the book, or cracking it open to refresh my memory with the first few sentences.

So I have a fantastic memory, when my brain is allowed to function normally, which it hasn’t been doing for quite some time now, I have a talent for writing, which I haven’t been able to seriously get to lately, and I have a pretty good imagination, which sort of lends itself to the writing aspect, but like that, my imagination has been losing its spark these days.

I need some time off from everything that I’m doing. I need for someone to give me a test that will show, once and for all, what I am good for. Every time I’m given some sort of aptitude test or, I don’t know, a functionality quiz, the answers always come out the same, “Best suited to work in an office.” or “Best suited to work in business surroundings.” And so and so on.

The reason why this happens each and every time is because of the content of the exam; they ask questions that, once the logical side of my brain takes over, there’s little hope in getting it to relinquish control. This is when my tunnel vision becomes a hindrance more than a help.

I want to know what I’m good for, I want to know where I fit in, and so far this place, DeVry, and my job, Office Administrator for a Construction Contractor, isn’t helping any.

Journal Entry #14: Dread

Date: November 12, 2007
Time: 22:18

Main Entry: 1dread
Function: verbPronunciation: 'dred
Etymology: Middle English dreden, from Old English dr[AE]dan
transitive senses
1 a: to fear greatly b archaic: to regard with awe
2: to feel extreme reluctance to meet or face intransitive senses: to be apprehensive or fearful


This is the first of three definitions of the word “dread”, and I think the second of these two fits well with how I feel every single morning.

I wake up, if I’ve even gotten any sleep, and I see what the time is, and the first thought in my head is “Oh G-d, I gotta get going.” This is repeated several times until I actually get out of bed. Then I have to figure out what I want wear, which is rather easy as I only have slacks in three colors, black, blue, and gray. But then I have to figure out what sort of mood I’m in, although if it’s Monday, like today, then I wear black. I always wear black when I have a class scheduled where some form of mathematics is involved.

But still there’s that feeling of dread that comes with each piece of clothing I have to put on. Because it means that with each piece I put on, then it’s that much closer to where I have to leave to go to work. Now you’ve probably heard it from a lot of people “I hate my job”, and for one reason or another they probably do, and their reasons are somehow justified in their minds. But do they feel what I feel every single morning for over a year? Do these people dream they’re at work? Or worse, dream they’re at work doing something, they wake up, go back to sleep, and dream they’re at work doing something else?!?

Welcome to my world. Strap in, the horrors are just beginning.

Journal Entry #13: Storytelling

Date: November 11, 2007
Time: 21:42

When I write, I don’t set out to write a book. I set out to tell a story. I don’t know how many times I’ve said that, but it always needs to be repeated. You see, a book is limited by the number of pages. A book, in order to be classified as such, has to have a minimum number of pages to a maximum number of pages.

A story, on the other hand, can be as long or as short as you like. I heard tell of an author, his name is Fredric Brown, and he wrote a book called “Martians, Go Home!” that was made into a not very good movie starring Randy Quaid. Fredric Brown was purported to have written what is considered the shortest horror story in the world. Here it is. "The last man on earth sat alone in a room. There was a knock at the door."

Now I haven’t written anything as short as that, but I never wrote anything as long as “War and Peace” either. I did write something that, when turned into double-sided pages, adds up to about 125, which is about the size of what is referred to as a “novella”, the basic definition of which is “a story with a compact and pointed plot.”

I will admit one thing though; I am technically working on a book. I am writing a series of short stories featuring a detective who specializes in the paranormal. I mentioned him in an earlier post. I think that I’m setting my sights so high is one of the reasons I’m having trouble with one of the stories. It also might be that in a sense, I’m attempting to re-write the history of characters of fantasy. But then again, I’m my own worst critic.

Journal Entry #12: The Day It All Went Wrong

Date: November 10, 2007
Time: 21:51

Have you ever felt like your life has gone totally wrong, but you’re able to trace back to this one moment that you felt, if you changed it, everything might be better? I feel that way all the time. I feel that way when I go to work in the morning, when I leave work in the evening, when I go to school and when I leave to go home.

For years, I was able to trace back all the problems I believed I had, to this one moment in high school. I was walking down the corridor when my 12th Grade Geometry teacher beckons to me. I go over to see what he wants and he tells me that he’s starting a computer literacy class, and asks if I would like to join. I said, “Sure. Why not?” The one drawback was that the only time he could schedule it was around lunchtime. Should’ve taken that as a warning.

We walk into this little shack near the shop building. As we enter, off to the left, there’s what appears to be a control room like you see in a film or television studio. We walk into this little, gray-colored, windowless room, and I take a good, long look around. By the door are two computer screens with keyboards; behind them at the far wall are 5 more screens and keyboards. If you were to face the far wall, then to your left would be a dot-matrix printer, and a floppy drive. Oh, each computer screen had a cassette deck hooked up to it.

I looked around the room and decided right there and then “This is what I want to do.” So we started the class and I did rather well, I believe, and some months later, I graduated high school. I then went to The Office of Vocational Rehabilitation, or OVR, to get funding for vocational training. The counselor asks me, “What do you want to do?” “I want to work with computers.” I replied. “Good,” she said, “What do you want to do with them?”
I had no idea. And I told her as much. I said “I don’t know.” So she said “Well, think about it for a bit.” So I did. And then she asked me again, “What would you like to do?” “Work with computers.” What do you want to do with them?” “I don’t know.”

And here I am, more than twenty years later, and I still don’t know what it is I want to do. I keep finding out what I don’t want to do, but I can never find out what I want to do. And for all of those twenty-odd years, I’ve been blaming that moment in high school as the start of it all. But within the last six months or so, I realized that it goes back a little further than that. My problems really stem from the day I saw this commercial on television.

Years ago there was this commercial that featured a middle-aged man sitting behind a desk, and in front of the desk is the stereotypical nerd. The man behind the desk is reading off a list of video games and their accompanying high-scores, and every time the man ticks one off the list, the nerd nods his head while wearing a goofy grin. The plot is, the middle-aged man is an interviewer, and the nerd is the interviewee, when the interviewer reaches the end of the list he says "So, Mr. Johnson, you seem to know an awful lot about computer games... But what do you know about computers?"

And then the look of sheer horror washes over the guy's face.

So after seeing that, I thought that it might be a good idea to get some education in the field of computers. So I filed that nugget of an idea away until a moment presented itself that would allow me to utilize that idea, and now we’ve come back to that day in high school. But I think, if I really had to pick a moment when all of my troubles truly started, I think it would have to be this moment in June of 1964, the day I was conceived.

It’s been downhill at breakneck speed ever since.

Journal Entry #11: Imagination

Date: November 9, 2007
Time: 22:45

Flushing-Meadows Corona Park, the official name of the park everyone calls “Flushing Meadows”. Long before there was a movie called “Men in Black”, and even a longer time before there was a comic book by that name, there was Flushing Meadows. The site of not one, but two Worlds’ Fairs.

The first was held in the years 1939 - 1940, and among the scientific marvels that could be seen were a working robot, and a new-fangled invention called “television”. The second Worlds’ Fair to be held on that site was in 1964. That was when they constructed these towers. They put them right next to the New York Pavilion. The tallest of these towers was a fancy restaurant.

Many years later, the restaurant, and the cafeteria situated beneath it, stopped doing business, and the towers fell into disrepair. But they were never torn down. This left people with the ability to view a bit of history as they walked around the park, or viewed it from the highway.

When I was going to a summer day camp, there were many times I had the opportunity to see the towers from the highway. The very first time I saw them, I thought that the tops of the towers looked like flying saucers. I thought that way for years, and then “Men in Black” was released, and the writers of that movie decided that they were indeed, alien spacecraft, camouflaged as a tourist attraction.

Some years after that, I finally had the chance to go to the park and take a good look around. It was then that I found out what those towers really were. But even after getting a close look at them, or as close as I could get what with them closed to the public, even after reading the placard that is posted on the board fence surrounding the towers explaining what they are, what they were, and why they were built, even after all that, I still think the tops of those towers look like flying saucers.

See, that’s imagination, and that’s something I hope I never lose. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to use Google Earth to fly through space for a little while.

Journal Entry #10: Pictures

Date: November 8, 2007
Time: 21:26

Many years ago, I lived in a group home in the East Village, Every week we had what we referred to as a “house meeting”. One week, after one such meeting, this guy with grey, curly hair shoves a camera into my hands and says, “Shoot a roll.”

We then go outside, at about 8:00 PM, and I start taking pictures. Now remember, it’s not only night time, but it’s also around winter, and it just happened to start snowing a little while we were out. So I took pictures of some pigeons, of a lamppost, especially one where you could see the snow falling through the light, and whatever else I could at that hour.

We then went back inside and up to the darkroom to develop that roll of film. All we had, and could possible afford for use by the residents was black and white film, chemistry for developing black and white film, and photographic paper. I had very little patience when it came to the mixing of the chemistry, especially when we had to make up a new bottle or two. The water temperature had to be just right, not too hot, and not too cool, or the whole batch was ruined and we had to start over. But once I got some practice in, I turned out to be a pretty good photographer. I was even given the job of being the official photographer for the basketball team we had.

But then he got very serious, and I was told three things, that I have remembered to this day.

First, “Always look at the world as if you had a camera in your hands. Think to yourself “What would make a good picture?””

Second, “Always try to take picture of things that other people wouldn’t. If you see something that you find to be interesting, take a picture of it.”

And the third thing he said to me, and which was the most important, was this, “If you were to tell me right here and now that you wanted to do this (photography) for a living, I would do everything that I can to stop you. The reason for that is this, professional photography is a cutthroat business. You have to be better than everyone else just to get the job, and then, when you have the job, you have to be better than you were to have gotten the job in the first place.”

So I have contented myself to being able to take good pictures. But I can look at a picture, and see where certain aspects can be brought out to accentuate the picture. What makes that even more fun is I know how to do it. Even if the picture is “only” black and white.

Journal Entry #9: Accomplishments

Date: November 7, 2007
Time: 23:28

Ever accomplish anything? Before you answer, let me explain what I mean.

When I wrote my first story, the Doctor Who story where my friend meets the Doctor, I was so proud when I finished it. Not only was I proud of the fact that I wrote it, but that it took me such a short time in which to write it. I was so proud of it, I found a Kinko’s®, had them make up twenty copies, and had them bound. And none of that spiral binding, or that weird plastic wannabe spiral binding garbage either. No, I went with what they referred to as “Vellum Binding”. It features a clear plastic cover, a vinyl backing, and the pages and covers are riveted together. At the time, it cost $120.00, but at that time I didn’t care much about the price. Well, I did, but I figured it was worth it.

It was. I was thrilled when I got the copies. I gave a few of them away to friends, and I still have a few of them in a drawer. Of course, as I said in a previous post, it will never get published, but that doesn’t matter, it was the first story I ever wrote.

I got pretty much the same feeling when I wrote my first Original Story, but got an even better feeling when I got the notice that it was copyrighted.

So, each time I complete a story, or write a few lines or even a few pages, I feel as though I’ve accomplished something. That’s the thing with me. I have to feel I’ve accomplished something. I have to have the sense of it, I have to know it in my heart and mind and soul that I have done something.

Do you see? This is what I meant. Have you ever gotten that feeling that you’ve actually, honestly, truly accomplished something? If you have, great! If you haven’t, don’t despair, you’ll get that feeling sooner or later.

But I don’t have that feeling right now. I didn’t have it last week either. In fact, unless it has to do with something I’ve written, I’m not getting that feeling. Oh, and before you think you’ve got me trapped by my own words, you don’t. I’m not getting that feeling from doing this blog. Don’t get me wrong, it’s an interesting concept and all, but, like I said, I’m not getting that feeling, that sense, that I’ve accomplished something. And maybe I’m not supposed to get that with this, but I’m definitely not getting that feeling with the job I have, and I most assuredly did not feel it at all in my last job.

Oh sure, one of the managers I had told me how much I had accomplished by learning something we called the “Branch Office Support System”, and another manager told me that I learned it faster than anyone he’s ever seen get trained in it, but I just didn’t feel like I accomplished anything.

I don’t know, maybe I can’t really explain it.

Journal Entry #8: Acceptance

Date: November 6, 2007
Time: 21:17

I am a science-fiction fan, a fan of fantasy novels and movies, and a comic book fan. This means that I do not fit. It means that I find it difficult to find acceptance among those who are supposed to be my peers.

The problem was, when I was growing up, among other things that I had problems with at that time, was growing up. When other guys my age were starting to turn to playing baseball, or basketball, I still wanted to play cops and robbers. Still do.

I don’t think it’s a longing for simpler times, or any other piece of psychoanalytical hoohaw you want to throw at me, it’s just that sometimes, I feel that I never got much of a chance to be a kid, and I’d like to be one again. Or still.

But regardless of all of that, I still love to read comic books. I buy mostly titles published by DC Comics, and some from a little known label called “Moonstone Comics”. I watch cartoons whenever I get the chance, but I try to watch what made me happy growing up. Although I cannot understand how I used to watch “Scooby-Doo” every week. I can almost see people starting to read this blog entry, thinking it’s going to go somewhere else, but, upon realizing it’s not, they’re turning away.

This means, that once again, I have to go elsewhere to be accepted, but that’s okay, I know where those places are, I’ve been there before and I had a good time. The trouble with at least one of them is I can’t get to it, and in another few years, it’s going to go away. That one particular place is a Doctor Who convention in Chicago. At this time in my life, I can’t afford to go, and I don’t have the time to take off. But there is a fan club I belong to, and if I can ever get my schedule and theirs to mesh, I’ll be able to go to the monthly meeting, and there is still the Video Meet near the end of the month that I can attend, as long as it isn’t in upstate New York.

As for the comic book thing, there’s always my friends, and beyond that, there’s the New York Comic-Con to look forward to next April.

Journal Entry #7: Video Games

Date: November 5, 2007
Time: 20:37

There was a time, many centuries ago, when if you wanted to play a video game, you HAD TO LEAVE THE HOUSE!

You could go to a pizza parlor, a stationery store, a discount department store, and at least one instance, a pet shop.

The simplest video game was the auto or motorcycle racing game. The car or motorcycle was a flat piece of plastic that was situated above a screen, then after you put in your quarter, the screen came on and so was the race. It was basically a type of movie that you participated in.

Over the years, video games got more and more sophisticated. What follows is a list of some of my favorites.

NARC – You’re a narcotics agent shooting or arresting members of a gang dealing and selling drugs. You also have to collect any evidence you find to gain points. At the end, you have to destroy the big boss who just happens to be a giant head. After it’s all over, and you’ve won, the game congratulates you and tells you to report to your local D.E.A. office.

R-Type – You are flying a ship through space. You have to collect different kinds of weapons to defeat all the enemy ships you see. One of the best weapons, even though it was futile against this one section where you really needed a powerful blaster, was the rebounding lasers.

Midnight Resistance - You are one of two soldiers infiltrating an enemy base. As you fight, you find keys that let you get different weapons. The value of the weapon depends on how many keys it takes to open the case it is in. When you near the end of the game, it is imperative that you have six (6) keys. These are to let your family members out of their cases. If you are unable to let out all six, when you have finished the game, you will see shooting stars that correspond to a family member that could not be saved. I don’t believe I’ve ever finished this game in the arcade, although I have completed it in the SEGA home version.

Heavy Barrel – You are one of two soldiers fighting against hostile forces. Along the way, you collect pieces of a super-weapon. Once you collect all the pieces, a deep voice calls out “Heavy Barrel”, and the weapon puts itself together in your hands. Unfortunately, this super-weapon has a short life span. This game is like “Midnight Resistance”, except “Midnight Resistance” is what is known as a “side-shooter”, and this is a “top-shooter”.

Quartet - You are one of a group of four mercenaries. You blaze through level after level of all sorts of bad guys and assorted weird creatures. However, you cannot linger in one spot for too long as a stylized figure of Death flies down and zaps you with his spinning two-headed scythe. It’s sort of a “side-shooter” version of “Gauntlet”.

Psycho Soldier – You are one of two characters, one male, and one female. Although in a single player game, you are the female. You go through a ruined city, zapping mutant insects that start as caterpillar-like creatures, and then grow to giant proportions. All the while, your power scale is increasing. If you get the “power-egg”, you turn into either a dragon, or a phoenix. If you are playing with someone, the other character can ride the dragon or phoenix. But be careful when you shoot the egg, you might hit the one that will explode into little caterpillars.

Xenophobe - This game is interesting in that as there are three control sticks, the screen is split into three horizontal parts. The object of this game is to clear spacecraft, space stations, and colonies of alien creatures. The cool part of this game is that all the characters are dressed in “Starfleet” styled uniforms. Note: The best weapon in this game is the laser pistol. But be careful when you throw any of your weapons away, they could explode.

Ikari Warriors - I don’t remember much about this game, or its sequels, except that it was fun to play, even though I never finished it.

Rampage - You’re one of three giant monsters, an ape, a lizard, a werewolf. Your goal: Destroy buildings and other objects, eat food and people, and try not to get killed. If you’re playing with someone else, and their monsters loses all its power it will turn human again and try to sneak off-screen. If you’re fast enough, you can grab them and eat them for more points.

Gauntlet – It’s a kind of a role-playing game wherein you choose to be one of four characters, a wizard, a warrior, a Valkyrie, or an elf. You collect treasures and potions, eat food for health points, but you must kill all the demons, ghosts, and other assorted baddies you find throughout the game.

Revolution X – This is a game that is rather unique in that it features famous people. It has to do with the rock group Aerosmith, and an organization called New Order Nation. It seems that NON wishes to abolish music in all its forms, starting with rock, and take over the world. To that end, they kidnap all the members of Aerosmith. It’s your job to first, find their car and play the message. Once you do, you have to choose one of three places to go to next. It’s like one of those shooting gallery type games, except instead of grenades, you fire CDs at the bad guys.

P-38 – You’re the pilot of a plane in what I think was World War II. You destroyed troops and other planes and assorted weapons. All the while, you’re picking up points and power-ups to help you on your way.

RYGAR – This was an interesting game. You are a warrior with a kind of a yo-yo weapon. You used it to vanquish the bad guys, and foil any traps. As with most games, there were “power-ups” and treasures to find. The “power-ups” in this game would give the yo-yo weapon different abilities.

KLAXX - This was an interesting variation of a “Tetris” style game. The player has to make stacks of blocks, all the same color, to get points. The difficult part comes in that the blocks are flying at you, and if the blocks reach a certain height before you can get rid of them, you lose.

Gyruss - A game that takes place in outer space, way, way, out in outer space. The ship you are piloting can move around the entire screen in a circle. Your ultimate goal is to reach each and every planet in our solar system, and each planet has other levels.

Forgotten Worlds - You are one of two warriors fighting your way through strange enemies. You pick up coins of varied sizes and worth for use later when you want to upgrade your weapons when you enter the “shop”. This was one of the few games that I have completed.

Truth be told, with the exception of a few, NARC in particular, I have never finished any of the games I’ve listed here. Hey, it took me $15.00 in quarters to finish that one. I got pretty far with some of them, and others I didn’t do too well at. Regardless of the outcome, completed them, didn’t complete them, it wasn’t important. I just had fun playing them.

There are others, whose names escape me at the moment. There was this one game, and it was a shooting gallery kind of game, where the object was to invade enemy camps, while firing a machine gun and tossing grenades, and rescue hostages. (I have since remembered the name of this game as “Operation: Wolf”.) The next one was another shooting game, but this one involved the destroying of aliens. However, you collected different kinds of grenades, such as one that froze everything. It even had a pedal you could press to back up. The third game was what is called a “top-view shooter”. In this game, you had to kill these blob-like alien creatures. (I remembered the name of this game as well, “Alien Syndrome”) The fourth game, whose name I can’t remember involved firing this really cool laser gun. Well, the character you controlled was doing the firing; all the player really did was press the fire button. The character I always played had a green laser weapon. This was not through choice; it was just that in a single-player game, that was the player I was given. When you collected the “power-ups”, your weapon increased in strength, and range. What was meant by “range” was that the “beam” was a little bit longer and the field of firing was wider as the beam was fired from the gun. There was a fifth game which I took to be a sequel to “Ikari Warriors”.

Journal Entry #6: Books

Date: November 4, 2007
Time: 20:06

As much as I love to write, I probably love to read even more. There were times, when I was growing, when that’s all I was allowed to do. When I was old enough to start getting real textbooks for English classes, I was always baffled by one thing; the books would weigh about 4 or 5 pounds, and course they were very thick, but we would only read maybe 1 or 2 short stories, at most, a single play, and then get swamped with homework.

Ironically, I never liked the reading assignments, I guess it’s because it was assigned. I did, however, read a lot of the rest of the book on my own. There was one textbook where I read the play, “The Miracle Worker”, the story of Helen Keller. There was another where I read the original play of “Visit to a Small Planet”, which was later turned into a film starring Jerry Lewis.

Some of the short stories I read were so obscure, that I’d never heard of the author before, or since, except maybe for one. The story was entitled “The Letter ‘A’”, and the author was Christy Brown. Now, some of you reading this might not know who Christy Brown is, or was, but if you ever heard of a little film called “My Left Foot” starring Daniel-Day Lewis, then you have most certainly heard of Christy Brown. There were others whose titles and authors’ names escape me at the moment, but I intend to find them someday.

Of the kinds of books I like to read, my tastes vary. I mostly read science-fiction and fantasy, some mysteries, some suspense, and I’m now reading re-prints of what used to be called “Pulp Fiction”, and I don’t mean that movie by whatsisname. These were books that sold for 10¢, or as much as 20¢ at the time, and considering that time was the late 30s, early 40s, ten and twenty cents was a lot of money. The books usually featured the adventures of characters known as “The Shadow” or “Doc Savage”. Sometimes, they would be a series of short, little, detective stories.

The suspense author I read most is named Clive Cussler. His most famous novel is called “Raise the Titanic”. In the fantasy vein, I read a series of books that takes place in a world called “Xanth”, written by an author named Piers Anthony. Xanth is a place where magic not only exists, but almost everyone who lives there has at least one magical talent. For instance, one of the characters can transform a person into a tree, or any other object for that matter.

There is this one detective series that I like to read whose lead character is a young woman named Mary Russell. The author is Laurie R. King. Now, while there may be some of you out there thinking “So what, a woman detective.” I should tell you that the stories take place in the mid-1920s, and her partner in her adventures is this guy named Sherlock Holmes.

I’ll talk more about books later on, for now, I think I’m going to get some dinner.

Journal Entry #5: The Stories So Far

Date: November 3, 2007
Time: 22:58

In one of the Online Discussions, I mentioned that I’ve copyrighted 3 original stories, and in one of my blog entries, I mentioned writing a Doctor Who story. Since I’ve hopefully piqued the interest of some people who would like to know, not only what I’ve written, but what I’m also working on at present. Here goes.

The first Doctor Who story I wrote is called “An Impossible Adventure.” In it, a friend of mine meets up with a man who calls himself “The Doctor”. They travel in time and space, and then my friend comes back to tell me the story. It was inspired partly by something one of the actors from the program had said in an interview, and partly from an idea of my own.

The second Doctor Who story I wrote deals with The Doctor, and how he handles the death of a close friend. His companion at this time is his great granddaughter. He also meets up with the physical representation of Time, and Death.

I’m working on a third story right now. It’s a crossover between Doctor Who, and the American science-fiction drama, “Quantum Leap.” When the show Quantum Leap ended, I hated the way it ended. I had never been so angry with a television series’ producer in my life. So, I hate the ending, and I always had the idea that maybe I could’ve done it better. Now, for those of you who don’t know a great deal about the program Doctor Who, I’ll explain a little something. The being known as “The Doctor” comes from a planet called “Gallifrey”, and on this planet lives a race of beings called “The Time Lords”. Now the Time Lords feel that no other race in the universe is capable of possessing the knowledge of traveling through time. The reason they feel this way is because while all of the other races would get it into their heads to go back in time to change things, or forward to find out things that will benefit themselves in the present, all the Time Lords want to do is observe past and future events. That said, I’d always wondered what the Time Lords would have thought of Project: Quantum Leap.

This gave me the opportunity to not only end Quantum Leap the way I thought it should end, more or less, but it would also give me a chance to not only tie up some loose ends that were created by the series, but it gave me a chance to give an origin to that loose end in the first place. You see, during the show’s five-year run, we get introduced to a rival project. Only, it’s not so much a rival as it is an “anti-project”. While the character of Sam Beckett is leaping around, trying to fix things, the other project is doing their level best to foul things up.

I haven’t quite finished it yet as I’ve been working on it in sections, and I’m not quite sure how to link all of the sections up. The one bad thing is, I already have the ending in mind. Now, while some of you might think that that’s a good thing, I don’t. Well, if I have the ending, then I have to lead up to it, but the difficulty lies in not leading up to it so quickly.

The first of the three original stories are, “The Death of Childhood”. It tells the story of the physical embodiment of Childhood, and how it is dying, and of some of the people who have gone to Childhood’s Domain to pay their respects and say good-bye.

The second one is titled “The Beginning of the World”. It’s the story of an archaeology professor, who, when he goes on an expedition, finds a tablet that bears a riddle, and if he solves it, the world would benefit greatly from his findings.

The third story I had copyrighted is called “The Family of Man”. It’s the story of a newspaper reporter who finds more than he bargained for when he went to a zoo to do a “fluff piece” on the birth of a baby gorilla. It’s told in a first-person narrative, and it has a bit of a Twilight-Zone style twist at the end.

The stories I’m presently working on, when I have more than three seconds to breathe, when I am inspired to write, and when I feel like, are as follows:

The Doctor Who/Quantum Leap crossover, a series of detective stories featuring a detective who specializes in the paranormal, while still carrying out regular investigations, my autobiography, which I’ve entitled “Thursday’s Child”. I call it that because that’s the day I was born. And I just started a new story to give me a break from one of the detective stories. It’s about man who wakes up one day and is told by the person who woke him that he is that person’s imaginary friend. I’ve gotten to about 3 or 4 pages with that one.

And that’s how things stand with me and my writing at this point.

Journal Entry #4: The Blank Page

Date: Friday, November 02, 2007
Time: 21:36

I have read this and heard this from different professional writers and authors and now you get to hear it from me. The hardest part of writing is that blank page.

The blank page doesn’t care who you are, or who your mother is, or was. It doesn’t care what kind of a day you’ve had; it doesn’t even care if you’re depressed that it’s raining out. All it cares about is sitting there and mocking you. The blank page will sit there and mock you and taunt you and draw a line in the dirt, double-dog dare you to write something on it. And it will do that until you screw up your courage and put a letter or a word or a sentence on that page.

But the blank page isn’t finished with you yet. It looks at what you’ve written and it scoffs at you. “You wrote that?” it says sneeringly. “I could do better than that and I’m only a piece of paper.” it says before you can answer. So you grab it out of the typewriter and crumple it into a ball, all the while you hear it laughing at you.

And then you look at the wad of paper, and you see the power you have over it, and see nothing of the power you thought it had over you.

And then you begin to write.

Journal Entry #3: Writing

Date: November 1, 2007
Time: 20:45

Typewriter vs. Computer/Word Processor

Back in 1995, I came into possession of an electric typewriter.
One day, I started writing with it. I wrote a story based on the world of the British science-fiction series "Doctor Who". At the time, I was working a 3-day work week, and the schedule was Monday through Wednesday. I mention that so I can explain why I only wrote on the weekend, I wrote the story on my days off.

The story was about a friend of mine who meets this person called "The Doctor". They go off on an adventure and my friend comes back and tells me about it.

I was so proud of it, I went to Kinko's and had twenty copies printed up and bound. Unfortunately, it can never be published as it breaks many rules that have been set down by the BBC.

But the title of this blog is "Typewriter vs. Computer/Word Processor", and this is why it's titled that way.

I don't know how many of you have ever tried writing on a typewriter before, but I can honestly say that it's a feeling that can never be duplicated. You're sitting there, pounding on the keys, and the words are coming to life before your eyes. Right there, on the paper that's unrolling before you are the words that came out of your head, through your fingers, and onto the page.

Words that you write on a PC, or a word-processor? To me, they're dead. Dead words on a dead screen. But what's that you say? "You can print them onto the paper." Yes, you can, but it's dead words on the paper.

You see, when you see the words appear on the paper as you write them in "real time" as opposed to printing them later, it gives you a sense of power, and then, if you make a mistake and have gone too far to correct it with the correction ribbon, or some form of white-out, that is the moment when you can play G-d.

You take the paper out of the typewriter and look at it. You see the mistake you made. You take another, clean sheet of paper and put it into the typewriter, and then you start to copy what you wrote up until the mistake.

But then, you suddenly realize, maybe a different word would be better, or a different phrase, or better still, a completely different scenario. And this, ladies and gentlemen, is the moment I spoke of, the moment when you can play G-d. You make the decision to do one of those three things, or not.

It just can't be done with a PC or a word-processor. Or, it's not the same with a PC or a word-processor. To change anything with a PC or word-processor, all you do is delete the word, replace the word, or highlight all that needs changing and you change it. And what you've changed from is gone forever, but with the typewriter, even if you've torn it up or shredded it, those words are still there, and they can taunt you into thinking what you did was wrong, but remember, it's your story, your characters, and you do with it what you will.