Followers of Awesome Writing

Tuesday, September 26, 2017

Change of Heart

Yes, I am about to get political. The muse still seems to be sleeping. If you want more writing posts, go buy my books so I can make that my way of supporting myself. Until then, you get mad rantings on things that annoy me. Well, occasionally things that make me happy. I'm a writer though, so how often is that going to happen?

So, I have been thinking about this a great deal recently. For me it is about freedom, and free speech. For many other people it is about so much more. I think it is sad that so many people have co-opted the narrative for their personal reasons and gains. So, let's ignore my personal pet cause for the moment shall we? Let's look past free speech and look to freedom and justice instead. I think those are really important things as well.

Last year, Colin Kaepernick was taking a knee during the National Anthem for a cause he believed in. I supported him, if for no other reason than because I love a good protest. Damn the man. Many fans hated him, and the NFL gave him the kiss of death. They ignored him, and then, when he was cut, they silently let his career die. For what crime? For protesting police violence and racial injustice in the United States.

Now, whether you agree with what he was saying or not, the fact is he has the right to protest. It's right there in the first amendment of the damn Constitution. Yeah, rule one has taken a beating over the last couple of years, and maybe I'll rant about that later, but let's just say it's there. There are people who say, but it's at work, so that doesn't apply. Okay, I might agree with you if it weren't for one thing. The NFL has a monopoly, so they don't get to pull the same shit that other companies do. Other companies can do that. But since they are breaking a big rule, and the government is ignoring it, like they shouldn't, they don't get to suppress the rights of their employees. But, not the point. Big point? He wasn't protesting for free speech. He was saying, hey cops! Stop killing people. Stop killing my people. Got it? That's what it was.

So, fast forward a year. Dear old Colin can't find a team, and the President is hurling insults at football, and everyone is surprised. Now all of a sudden everyone is taking a knee, or a lot of them. The NFL is suddenly okay with it, and it's all about free speech. As one commentator mentioned, only one team seems to remember what this protest was actually about. A couple of the players do, but only one team does. There is still an argument, but the league is suddenly okay with the protests. Nobody is being fired or fined. Now it's okay.

Why the reversal?

Good question.

Because they are following an old rule.

If you don't like what they are saying, change the conversation.

That's what they did. See, the NFL is okay with division, but they want to pretend that they are unified with the people and the players, against Trump. They aren't. They want you, they want us, divided.

The NFL is okay with this controversy over free speech. They don't mind being on the wrong side of that. They are okay with an argument of black versus white. They don't even mind being on the wrong side of that. They have conned you. Even though they don't care about a race argument, they turned this into the safest argument for them. They made this about the National Anthem. Which it never was! So now they are okay with the protests.

So, why weren't they okay with Kaepernick's original protests? Because it was a half step from an argument that was dangerous for them. He was talking about the police brutalizing and killing people. He was talking about a certain group of people. So that argument was divisive, yes, but a lot of white folks were getting on board. Okay, they might have been able to tolerate that. But if that gained steam, how long before the conversation became this.

You know, it's funny. There seem to be a lot of militarized police running around that are hurting average citizens, a lot of whom aren't white, all of them seem to be of moderate to low income. While there are a large number of good cops out there, the ones that are doing the bad stuff all seem to have really heavy grade hardware and are serving the interests of the corporate elite rather than the common people. It's almost like there is a connection between the tanks at Standing Rock, the dead man in New York who was selling product that big tobacco has a monopoly on, and all of this other stuff going on.

The current protests are about something that has nothing to do with them. Kaepernick's protest was one step or less from drawing attention to an issue they are a huge part of. They are rich, so the militarization of the police does nothing but benefit them. They love that they are allowed a monopoly that goes against the laws of this country. They love that as a corporation they are allowed to dump money into politics unchecked. Kaepernick, as one man, threatened them. His protest was real. This current slew of protests distracts you from them. They are bullshit. I love free speech. I love the First Amendment. They are things I stand for, above all else. Because of that, it offends me that they are being used to distract you from a different cause.

Whether you believe in that cause or not, start paying attention to it. Argue about it. Decide what needs to be done about that. We can argue free speech another time. You are being herded and it is time to break out of the pen, my friends. We have to stop falling for this. Because this division is killing us. We are not each other's enemy.

Get united.

#politics #commentary #taketheknee

Sunday, July 23, 2017

My Dinner with The Son

I was just having dinner with Jesus. Yeah, since it's not football season he has some spare time to hang out with writers. It's a thing he does, hanging out with the little people, chilling with indies. I guess we're the modern day pariahs.
Anyway... you know when you're out with your friend and you start telling jokes? We get to that point. And Jesus is a funny guy. We're laughing, and he tells a real knee slapper. He says to me, "Patrick," He says, because Patrick is what he calls me. I mean I could insist on formality, but him being who he is I'm okay with informality. Anyway. "Patrick," He says, "Have you noticed how the people telling Christians to pay attention to Leviticus when it comes to immigrants are the same ones who were telling Christians to ignore Leviticus when it came to homosexuals a couple of months ago? Have you also noticed that nobody seems to notice that I undid all the laws in Leviticus and said the new law is don't be a dick?"
We laughed, and laughed, and laughed. Eventually a couple of old ladies shushed us and called him a long hair. He turned their coffee into whiskey and they were much more pleasant after that. I'm going to miss him when the damn quarterbacks start taking up all of his time again.
Until then, for more more insights from the mind of the Messiah, look here. http://hyperurl.co/duudrb

Thursday, May 11, 2017

Check This Out

So, not much to say. I got myself interviewed by a magazine all about indie authors. Go and check it out. I even teach you how to cook Irish peasant children.

Maybe this will get me off my ass again.

http://online.fliphtml5.com/ohxp/efhm/

#aboutme #author #Awethors #commentary #indies #interviews #shamelessselfpromotion #writer

Friday, October 28, 2016

Terror from Down Under

Author gives readers something new to sink their teeth into.


On Halloween 2015, Aussie horror writer launched his first collection of shorts,  Portraits Of Dread. His first work was very well received and gained him some very favourable reviews. Now, exactly a year later, Michael is set to chill his readers again with his new collection, Choice Cuts-A Bite From The Dark Realm.
As Michael explained, “This is another eclectic mix of stories, from dystopia, to good old fashioned horror. I hope I've created a nice mix for my readers. I've tried to add that unexpected twist and the wry humour which readers have told me they enjoyed in  my first collection.”
STORIES INCLUDE:
PENANCE
Deep within the bowels of an ancient mountside convent, Sister Elizabeta is locked away praying for forgiveness while the Council of Elders decide on a horrific punishment for her sins. What was Sister Elizabeta's transgression and what is the punishment she is about to undergo?


A BITE FROM THE DARK REALM.
Something is eating the food at a suburban London supermarket. When his overbearing boss tells Allan to rid the store of whatever is infesting the store, he discovers something far more terrifying than rats and mice.
BLACK SILK PANTIES.
Jacob O'Halloran is a sexually repressed bachelor. He gains his fufillment by stealing women's panties from suburban clothes lines. When he tries to steal from Audrey he is going to be plunged into a nightmare because Audrey has some issues of her own.
CHOICE CUTS ALSO INCLUDES:
Upon A Dark Horseman
Choice Cuts
Farewell Dear Friend
Brood Mother

And more.
Choice Cuts  will be released this Halloween for the special promotion price of just 99c (Will be $4.99 from November 2nd.) You can pre order Choice Cuts by clicking on the following links.

You can also buy the paperback version on the Amazon page for $10.99

       CONTACT THE AUTHOR.
      Michael loves connecting with book lovers and readers from around the world. Feel free to ask him about his work or just say G'day at any of the following.   
         
   Twitter

 #awethors #newrelease #horror

Tuesday, October 11, 2016

Writing Sample - Long Time No Anything

So, I have been posting this around and realized that I haven't posted here in forever. Work has eaten my writing! I think this belongs in my current work in progress, or one of them.

I know you want me to shut up. I know how much you want me to stop talking about how we have lost our freedom, how our government has been stolen, about our murdered liberty, and our violated and beaten rights. I know you want me to stop telling you about the corporations and men in power raped Lady Liberty then left her discarded, like a Muslim immigrant, on the Boston shore amongst the refuse, contaminated syringes, discarded condoms, and used packets of lightly sweetened, freedom flavored tea her only company. You're not alone.
Everyone wants to silence me, begs me to put the gag in. You scream in a voice that echoes with their's. The two groups scramble over each other to burn the first amendment. I don't know who's worse, the ones telling me to shut up and check my privilege. Screaming at me to be silent, to let the victims speak. To stay out of the conversation and just let it play out, to nod along encouragingly while others write the world, to watch without condemning or condoning. On the other side stand those that shout in my ear that it is in my best interest to be still. They want me to just watch as others are oppressed and enslaved. Just keep calm and let us put them back in check. It's not your concern, after all, they tell me. You're nothing like them. Just hush, go back to sleep and let us do our work. Stay where you are and you'll be safe.
What nobody wants, is for me to speak. No. None of you want me to talk about the truth I see. You don't want the uncomfortable visions of a freed mind. No matter what side they're on, hell, no matter what side you're on, there is one thing you want. You want me to sit on the couch, staring into the television. You want me to watch the stars and wait for the end of the world, with a Xanax smile, just like everyone else.
I just can't do it. I'm too busy weeping for all of you that can.




#writingsample #amwriting #politicalcommentary #socialcommentary #author #writer #writing #shamelessselfpromotion

Friday, June 24, 2016

Digging to China

This is rough, no time to edit it.





In the dim that infests a single twin room, resting like a cavity, dead center, in an end of the road motel, the darkest of dreams will visit one's mind. Even when they one is wakeful, or leastwise fitfully unable to sleep. When rest eludes the body the mind traverses plains unknown to all but psychotropic enthusiasts and romantic poets.

Humanity likes to imagine that a man living in destitution does so alone. Each cavern a pre-emptive tomb for an unknown soldier in the war against capitalism. No one is ever alone though. If one is not indulging in vacation provided by acid, the other inhabitants, the bugs crawling over one's skin, must be real. It is enough to make one fantasize.

It is said that every man has at least one homo-erotic fantasy in their life. Mine was high tech. A robot penis. I imagine it would be hard, cold, and taste slightly oily. Such a creation would ejaculate a super hero. I contemplated giving my first and last blow job and the force of the machine's pleasure driving my thinking machine out of its case. A short step from deviant lover, to abstract artist. The robot in my dreams would paint the wall in red and gray. Crafting an image a psychiatrist could use to diagnose madmen.

Wiping the insects from my flesh I knew a change of location was necessary. Thus did I go from nearly dead to wandering vagrant. A dumpster, a cardboard box, an abandoned tent. Any one of them would do, sleeping under the stars would do good for my soul after so long in confinement. Then I saw it.

A Victorian treasure  stood before my eyes. A for sale sign out front gave me hope. Not to purchase it, no. Men like me, those unemployed and lost to society, did not own homes. Instead I meandered to the convenience store and borrowed their phone.

No offers were as yet on the table, and no showings for at least two weeks. The asking price was high enough to make a millionaire blush. I would be able to squat in this home for months, if I was lucky. If I was very careful.

My possessions were sparse to say the least. I laid out my winter clothes, the mud stained item I would don, over the urine stained items I currently wore, when it grew cold. I laid out the faded blue piece of foam that served as my bed. As i prepared to lie down I looked at the wall.

Amidst the beautiful paper was a stain.  I recognized the type. It was much as the mark left by sweat from a desperate man will imprint on a threadbare mattress when one foregoes sheets to save on water.

Peeling back that paper I found a hole that echoed the ache in my heart and lack in my soul. The dark cavern was filled with a corpse I recognized. How could I not? One is bound to know one's own face.

I drew back in horror, thinking of who to blame. I wanted to lay this at the feet of jack-booted government thugs. The wished to blame it on the indifference of corporate fat-cats. I knew though. I knew it was me. I left this corpse here when I gave up and gave in. In the homes of the hearts of every man over twenty-five there was a sacrifice like this. Laying discarded, waiting to be found.


I knew this must be disposed of. Nobody must ever see what I had done to myself. I thought of what those heroes on television would do. Retrieving the plastic utensils I kept for the rare occasion that a man of mercy provided me food I began to consume the remnants of the evidence of my crimes.





#shortstory #author #Awethors #surreal #writing #writer

Sunday, June 5, 2016

A Tradition of Anti-Heroics

I'm not special.

Nobody likes bills. Everyone gets annoyed when they come in the mail. Most people get frustrated when the amount is wrong. I dare say most people call the number at the bottom to fix the problem. Most everyone wants to yell at the person, but, I think, almost nobody really does. I didn't, because I'm not special. I did call though.

Everyone loves a sexy voice on the other end of the phone. We start to imagine. All the features become physical. The full bodied laugh turns into eyes you can fall into. The sexy burr in the voice grows into that one part of the body, whatever it is, that you want thick when the rest is slim. For me it's the breasts, if I was a girl I bet it would be the penis. Like I said, not special. We fantasize our way through life, and phone calls are no different.

I even started off by telling Samantha, but you can call me Sam, that I didn't think I was special. She assured me that I was though. They're paid to say that you see. Part of their job is making customers feel important.

Anyway... she fixed my problem. So sorry Mr. Smith, this was a problem with our computer, and I have corrected it. I fell in love while she did it. I may not be special, but I'm not a moron. She was flirting with me. So I screwed up my courage and asked her out.

Sam must be something pretty special, because she said yes. We set the time and place. She gets off work in an hour and I'm supposed to meet her for drinks. She even offered to buy. So, now I'm sitting here thinking.

How ugly is this bitch? I mean, to say yes to a date with some loser on the phone who has billing problems? The Trumps of the world don't get miss-billed. If they do they don't even notice. How repugnant is her personality, when she's not hiding behind a phone, that she has to resort to turning her legitimate job into an escort service? I bet she's a goddamned serial killer and she's planning on selling my organs on the black market. Her breath probably smells like that fermented fish the old Scandinavians are so in love with.

I'm sitting here terrified. What if all of that is true? Well, maybe not the killer part, but I bet she has armpit hair and feminist-forest legs. What if all of that is true and I show up to be disappointed my her snaggle-toothed personality and Quasimodo looks? I'm not going.

I'm terrified. Worse than that? What if none of it's true? What if she is the perfect goddess I met on the phone? What if she's everything I imagined. Then she couldn't help but be disappointed by me.

I'm not going, and you can't make me. Don't judge me, because I'm not special.


You wouldn't go either.





I just want to say, for those confused by the title. If you don't know it, before comic books and RPGs co-opted the term as a synonym for dark hero, antiheroes were a literary device. The term literally meant, not a hero. Stories about them were stories about the common man. They weren't brave, or skilled, or stuck in great adventures. They were workaday people living workaday lives. This is something of a tribute, and a remembrance of words that have been stolen from us. If you didn't know that, well now you do. I just wish I could remember the style they were common in. I want to say Gothic, but I'm relatively sure that's wrong. If anyone knows, please comment below. If not, guess it's off to the library for me soon, since the interwebs have failed me.




#shortstory #author #Awethors #writer #writing #writingprompt