Jun 19, 2018

Whew. This book. I am at such a loss with this book. It was good...

We got a new (four-star) review of the GREEN EYES (by Becca, on LoveBytesReviews). Here it is:

Whew. This book. I am at such a loss with this book. It was good. The main character is bipolar, and I’m like borderline with severe depression and ADD, so I could understand the running commentary. This book is from the perspective of the main character John. My biggest problem with this book, though, is that I felt incredibly stupid because some of the vocabulary. I had to stop and go look some words up. That kind of threw me off. Maybe I need to go read the dictionary next. Shew.

John. John. John. John is a French teacher that teaches in Georgia schools. He is out for the summer. He decides to go walking along the beach in the gay section and ends up in a sexual encounter in the dunes. With a man with the most incredible green eyes ever. Then a third comes along. After the encounter, John tries to help the third man find his shorts and ends up looking for a towel to steal to lend the third man. He gets busted and is late to the third man. The third man is gone. Later he ventures to a bar to chill be for a party next door when the third man, known as Maurice, comes in and tells a story that is shocking. Maurice ends up in the hospital and now everyone is trying to figure out how to stop a psycho killer before being killed themselves. All the while, having sexual encounters at almost every turn it seems. During this the man he loves, Alex, has come up with a plan of his own, and it causes him to have amnesia. All kinds of twists and turns in this story. And hopefully it will bring a happy ending.

Reading the GREEN EYES

I’m not going to lie here. I kinda had a hard time keeping up at times. Sometimes I felt like I was reading out of my own head lol. But sometimes it was really hard for me to keep up. It’s a good book, don’t misunderstand me. I just feel like I need to be smarter or something to appreciate it the right way. I liked John. He was a complex character. They all kinda were. Each had a depth to them you didn’t quite expect. But what I loved about John, is even with all the crap going on around him, he was worried for his friends and their safety. He would pile them all up in his tiny apartment, just to make sure everyone was safe and no one was getting hurt or come after. He was trying his best to take care of them all. I felt bad at times for him, because it seemed like a never-ending circle you couldn’t step out of, but he stuck with it. Even when it came to taking out a killer. That was stupid beyond belief, that they thought they could do or even try, but they felt if they didn’t fix it somehow, it would never stop or change.

Sometimes situations call for drastic measures. There seemed to be quite a few of those in this book. But the things you do for friends and loved ones…..

Here, here...

And...anything the GREEN EYES have to add to this? Sure---always---(we boast). Here, at the very apex of the second part's overdone happy ending, Alex, the Hamlet of sexual orientation, proposes to John (story is set in 2014):

“Hold on,” Alex says, “hold on. While we are at it, why don’t we have a double wedding?”
“Yes. John here and I. We are the perfect complement to this ceremony.”
No, he means it, Alex says. He has to make it up to John, he really does, he’s done so many terrible things during the last couple of days, especially to John, and he has apologized once too often-—we need to bring out the big guns, and marriage would fit the bill.
“Are you crazy?” I say. “How do you know I want to marry you?”

Jun 12, 2018

The yellow parrot --- Green Eyes III --- Bright, viridescent eyes shine into the room --- teaser

What happens with your new book, people are asking. Well, we're progressing slowly, slowly, but here's at least the second part of the first chapter.

Context: John has been asked by Alice Sandeman to replenish her shrinking stock of Eleanor Beasley paintings---Eleanor Wagner-BeasleyGodehart Wagner's spouse of convenience, now deceased. If your read the first part of the saga, you may remember that Eleanor specialized in canvasses of white dots painted on white backgrounds. So that's what John's has been doing in Alex's old pad, when he's caught red-handed (or paint-smuded) by the notorious art critic Souren Souleikan. Minds meet, and there's something transactional in the air:

Under more auspicious circumstances I would feel my dick now. But I don’t. We will need some lubrication. And we need some assurances as to the transactional character of this since said lubrication could get into the way: Souleikan gets drunk, then he gets laid; then he doesn’t remember the deal (and I’m fucked).
“I need a drink,” I say. And Souren needs a drink too, except that there won’t be any tipple left in this desolate attic, what with Alex’s tipsy attitudes.
((Hold on.))
This is where the old Alex lived with the constrained, self-denying personality of his previous life; he didn’t drink then. There may be some hold-over bottle of booze he kept for his friends, or the friends he didn’t have. I get up.
 “Mind, you,” Souren says. “No Chateau Margaux. Claret should flow at the table in the company of kindred food and kindred company, but nowhere else.”
“I’ll be back,” I say, touching his shoulder. He nods.

I am back from the kitchen where I found and untouched bottle of Bourbon in the left cabinet below the counter. I hold in my left hand now, the other hand, digits spread, clinging to two low-profile tumblers. I set this all down, uncork the bottle, pour stiff drinks. We’re past the point of return, we’ll be getting laid straight away. Souren downs his shot wholesale. Another shot, and another. Gulp. Terrible, the mechanics of substances. We swim, we float, we undress, we-—we don’t go into details.

Jun 5, 2018

Where's Melania

Anything the GREEN EYES have to add to this? We usually do. Here, From Part II of the Green Eyes, This Is Heaven, Chapter 41, John Lee being interviewed, for the third time, by his nemesis, Inspector Mario LaStrada...(context, context:)...We're in the police department, and LaStrada has John cornered, but there's a pet fish bowl sitting on the reception desk, and John has his cell-phone activated in video-recording mode, lurking out of the breast pocket of his T-shirt:

Handcuffs appear out of nowhere. Nothing can save me now, except that the detective, his sight trained on the only Lee in the room, has overlooked the further goings-on fish-wise. And it’s not what you expect; it’s worse, the dark-blue shark undertaking a sexual assault on the pretty goldfish in the most uninhibited ways.

I once visited France, the country of my mother, where people would occasionally say: ‘Voila, un putain.’ (“Look, a hooker”). Along those lines I say, “Look, Inspector, the shark is raping the goldfish.”

And it works, Strada turns around. I could run away now, but say instead: “Bestiality in the police department, Inspector. Do something, do something.”

He’s listening. “Do something,” I repeat. “Not in this office.”

“Stop it, stop it!” he yells at the fish. He clutches the bowl with both hands, half-lifts it off the counter—-presumably intending to haul it to some location where sex between unrelated species of pesci would be a biological novelty rather than a crime—-but the big, water-filled, fish-filled container is too heavy for the Strada; it glides off the counter and drags the inspector down, smashing into pieces as it hits the ground, the long arm or the law falling onto the vicious shards of splintering glass.

Perhaps I can sell the same footage twice, I think the most heartless thought of this episode. I’m leaving the PD--head erect, pace deceivingly measured, a false expression on my face.

I stride across an almost empty parking lot. Nobody seems to be around, and the sergeant…where was the sergeant, didn’t he hear the fishbowl crashing? Strada didn’t say a word though, he fell silently onto his fish sword. He could be unconscious. There was immediate blood—-he might exsanguinate. And the fish—-they are also God’s creation, especially in the State of Georgia with its staggering number of churches per inhabitant—-the fish deserve a new life in two separate bowls where they can pursue their pointless rounds till they expire of boredom. Instead they are lingering there on the ground, hapless, gasping for air, provided they haven’t been crushed by Strada’s bulk.

You are a piece of shit, John, you are a piece of shit.

I’m back at the scene of the crime a few seconds later. Strada is splayed out on the ground, prone, moaning imperceptibly or not loud enough to alert the bowel-impeded sergeant. Nobody else is in evidence. There is more blood.

I stoop, bend over the stricken Strada, helpless myself. Where are the fish?

The sequel to the Green Eyes---available now

Michael Ampersant

If we could add something to this: Trump knows more about the American press than this press knows about itself.

Fight for a seat at the head of the table.

Imagine you're writing your third novel and you read this...what would you do with this(?):

Kentucky Crowd Cheers Valedictorian’s Trump Quote, Then Learns Obama Said It

By Laura M. Holson

June 4, 2018

Ben Bowling, the valedictorian of Bell County High School. 

Wisdom comes from the unlikeliest places. And on Saturday, Ben Bowling, the valedictorian of Bell County High School in Pineville, Ky., made an inspirational appeal that left his graduating classmates and their parents dumbstruck.

“This is the part of my speech where I share some inspirational quotes I found on Google,” he told the packed auditorium. “‘Don’t just get involved. Fight for your seat at the table. Better yet, fight for a seat at the head of the table’ — Donald J. Trump.”

The crowd burst into applause. President Trump is quite popular in Pineville and the surrounding area, which is the heart of coal country and overwhelmingly supported the president in the 2016 election after he promised to bring coal jobs back to America.

Mr. Bowling, though, wasn’t finished.

“Just kidding,” he said. “That was Barack Obama.”

The cheering abruptly stopped. The crowd went mostly silent. There was a lone boo.

Mr. Bowling was quoting a May 2012 commencement speech President Obama gave to the graduating class of Barnard College in New York City. Obama offered this message to graduates of the women’s college then: “Women shape not only their own destiny but the destiny of this nation and of this world.”
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