Oh my; be still my fluttering heart. For as long as I can remember, Morticia Addams, portrayed by Carolyn Jones, has always infatuated me. I might have even been in love with her, despite being a fictional character on television. What do I know? I was a kid.
Which brought me to the question, just how old was I when that show first aired. Yes, I betray my age my answering this question. The show aired for two seasons between 1964 and 1966. That made me between eight and ten years old.
Despite my young age, I couldn’t help but notice Morticia’s seductive svelte figure, plunging neckline, tight waist, and long legs trimmed in that hobble octopus dress that seemed to chase her around the floor. She had the face and mannerisms of romance that drew me in. Just watch her closely in the opening theme, that sly smile when snapping her fingers speaks volumes, enticing me to her side. Despite my tender age, I wanted to be Gomez Addams, going to bed with her each night. In that household, they just as easily could have been sleeping on a bed of nails. You get the idea.
End the day with a positive thought, what an interesting, inspirational message? When I first saw this quote the other day, I had to stop and think about it. The first question I asked myself was, why?
In thinking about the deeper meaning of the inspirational message, I thought about what I do every day since I can remember. Yes, that’s right, back to when I was a child, though it’s more likely that as a young adult, I lived this mindset.
The full quote reads:
“Always end the day with a positive thought. No matter how hard things were, tomorrow’s a fresh opportunity to make it better.”
In my last article, I wrote about how I come up with my ideas for my books. I received several comments from people who read my books. I found them interesting.
The first comment comes from a reader who read my first book, ‘The Taste of Honey.’ At the time, this reader wrote me and, if I recall correctly, told me she had a hard time with the story. She considered herself to be a traditional, conservative person and didn’t read all that much. However, a friend turned her onto the book and while struggling with the storyline, discovered an underlying unexpected love story that she loved. It turned her around, and she eventually wrote a compelling five-star review.
The following is what I received in response to the article.
“I found it insightful as well as a confirmation of what I already felt in my heart was the way you find your inspirations. I’ve always believed you to be intelligent and extremely creative. It’s nice to see you finding the right outlet for that creativity (of which you do so well!).” jb
Apparently, she knows me well, and yes, I am acquainted with this person.
Another reader sent me this comment.
“It’s hard to understand how you can write that in such detail and emotion. And, not wonder about you. […] After reading your statements and seeing that your girlfriend felt the same way, I think I feel much better. Maybe, lol.” gd
I am only just becoming acquainted with this reader, having recently received several comments and messages regarding my ‘Her Client’ trilogy. After reading the first book, she contacted with a note indicating how much she liked it. After reading the second book, I received a second comment expressing the need “… to think about this one?” implying that the story might have been a bit over the top for her. [No surprise. This book is intentionally horrific and deals with the real monsters among us.] Her followup to this comment to this book inspired me to write my previous article. The last I heard, the reader was just starting the third book, ‘Her Essentia.’ I have little doubt that she will send me an additional note.
Interestingly enough, the ‘Her Client’ books are my best sellers. I never expected that to happen. As a result, those are the kinds of books I will continue to focus on as I write.
I received many comments on the article. I hope it helps you understand where I am coming from and where I am going. My stories don’t come from personal experiences. Rather, they come from observation and wondering, “what if …”.
That’s how my latest book, ‘The Trafficking Consortium’ came to life. I was at my doctor’s office and as I sat in the waiting room, wondered “what if someone behind the counter and sent the medical history of a patient to someone who had no right to the file?” From there, the pieces just fell into place, and Avril’s story came to life.
Then there’s ‘The Breakup’, a story about what a woman hopes will happen on a date of dinner and dancing. My ‘what if’ revolved around the word, dancing. “What was his definition of dancing?” Ginny is about to find out. The question is, will she be happy about it?
Overall, I don’t really know what to say. If you, my current and new followers, continue to read my books, what am I going to do but keep writing new ones that tickle your fancy and your emotions? I have notes on several ideas for future stories. Stay tuned.
Oh, and I almost forgot. I finally finished putting together my online art gallery. It’s called ‘maggicalExpressions.’ Links to it are on my book site.
Yes, that’s correct. I paint and draw when I need to disappear. Oh, yes, that’s what I do when I write. Well, it’s a different kind of medium, and I enjoy it. I hope you like them.
It’s a nice day today, blue sky, and lots of sun. I’m going to work on my book most of the day, and then I’m going to a party tonight. I can’t wait. It’s a themed party sponsored by a social club I belong to. It’s been way too long since I’ve attended one. I’m looking forward to it.
By far and away, my single most favorite television show ever is Star Trek. This summer, it seems everyone is celebrating its 50th anniversary. It seems to me that I am not alone in my infatuation with the show. I’m not going to elaborate on the history of the show, its ups and downs, and all that. Instead, I want to write about how the show affected me over the years.
Both good and bad, the Star Trek has given me great joy and painful memories. I’ve loved the show since it first aired in July 1966. At the time, I was 10 years old and in my television market, the first two seasons aired in the early evenings well before my bedtime. I remember being anxious about the rumors that it was canceled only to be revived for another season due to letter writing campaigns. In its third and final season, the death knell sounded once and for all when it’s time slot shifted to Friday’s at 10 pm. By then, I was 12 going on 13 and my parents let me stay up to watch it since there was no school the next day. But I knew….
It didn’t die, despite what the network executives predicted. To this day, I believe the networks have their heads up their asses. To support my opinion, I use the tragedy of Star Trek as my focal point and argue on.
I will admit, that I can be obsessed with the show. When TNG resumed the adventures of the Starship Enterprise, VCR’s were affordable, and I taped every show. Of course, this elicited many an argument with my wife at the time. She never understood my passion for the show. No matter, she’s history and Star Trek lives on.
Today, with my recovery from my concussion, I am forced to limit my screen time, and when I do indulge, it’s with shows and movies that I already know intimately. It allows me to watch without concentrating and focusing on the screen. So, I’m gorging on watching TOS in order from the first episode to the end. At the moment, I am at the halfway point of season two.
I’ve learned a few things along the way. Scotty can be an ass at times, blatantly disobeying orders from his captain, which he gets away with every time without consequence. What’s up with that? His disobedience even got him killed only to resurrect by the end of the show. Chekov didn’t make his appearance until the second season. Nor did anything related to Spock’s parents. Kirk is Kirk, solves the problem of the day and gets the girl. Uhura, I always liked her but never realized just how beautiful she was. If I had been sitting on the bridge, I would certainly have been distracted by her charm. Spock evolves in each episode, becoming more lovable while remaining distant. ‘Fascinating’ he would say. In short, I am learning a lot about how the show evolved over the seasons.
Yet, for me, it’s less about the characters and more about the ships. When I was a kid, I built and displayed the models. I played with them, staged mock battles and destroyed several of my models, only to rebuild them as quickly as I could. Now that Hallmark produces a new ship ornament, I have collected the entire set and set up a dedicated tree during the holidays so that I can display them. I’ve spent a fortune on them. My girlfriend prefers the characters while I prefer the ships. I get it, but I know she doesn’t. She just accepts it, which I appreciate to no end.
I know the show has shaped me, guided me and helped me. The morals I live by today are rooted in the concepts of the show. Gene Roddenberry wanted to influence people to be better, more understanding and compassionate. He wanted to show that humans have tremendous potential, that we could be better than we were.
I don’t know about the rest of you, but with me Gene, you were successful. You influenced my life many positive ways. Thank you.
Woke up this morning to a beautiful day. Stepping outside to get the paper, I was astonished on how blue the sky was, how warm the sun felt, warm that is without being oppressive. The atmosphere didn’t feel like it was going to crush me. Believe me, this has been the hottest summer on record and all too often, the temperatures and humidity levels were through the roof. Naturally, walking out today, was a pleasant surprise.
I think I will enjoy my coffee on the deck and take in the beautiful day. Ohhh, that will leave me an opportunity to do a bit of writing. Later, a bit of exercise and activity soaking in the sun.
Speaking of coffee, I was at an Italian restaurant last night and my friend tried to order an espresso for dessert. Guess what? They didn’t offer espresso at all? WTF? Who ever heard of an Italian restaurant without espresso, or cappuccino for that matter. Which brings me to another question. In this revelation, I learned that in Europe, cappuccino is never served after the noon hour? Okay, I understand that around the world, there are cultural differences, but cappuccino is nothing more that espresso with steamed milk. I prefer cappuccino over espresso but I drink both. To me, cappuccino will dull the raw bitterness that can often prevail in espresso. Forgetting the caffeine aspect, cappuccino allows me to sleep better than espresso when consumed at the end of a long day.
What do you think? Is cappuccino okay in the evening?
Until next time, this is Richard Verry, loving the day and my coffee. I hope you have a wonderful day.
I read this quote on imagination the other day on social media. Though I’m sure I don’t have it exact, word for word, I know that this is the sentiment.
“I don’t subscribe to the stuff I write about. I just have a vivid imagination.”
This statement rings clearly in my psyche. The sentiment allows me to explain to people about the stories I capture in my writings and in my artwork. In short, it describes me in a very succinct way. I believe it fits me to a tee.
When you read the books I write, you feel the anguish my characters feel. Sit inside the minds of the perpetrators as they deliver their punishments to their unwilling victims. Follow along inside the minds of the victims and feel their pain. Identify with the characters and cringe as they do as they suffer their unwanted brutal attacks. Cheer for the sufferer even time they achieve a victory against their attacker.
While I wrote these stories, that is true, picturing myself as the perpetrator is disturbing to me. Violence against any living being, human or otherwise, I find as abhorrent. I cannot imagine me actually doing the violence I write about. Frankly, it turns my stomach. I can’t imagine myself forcibly raping another person, man or woman. It is unimaginable to view myself as a boxer, fighter, soldier or whatever. I just can’t see it. I don’t consider myself a pacifist, I simply abhor the notion of violence against another.
Why is it then that I enjoy movies that portray acts of violence? Why are my favorite video games fraught with hunting down, attacking and killing other characters? I saw a movie the other day, entitled ‘Vice’ starring Bruce Willis. I had never heard of it before. I never saw trailers or other promotions for it. I simply saw it on my online guide and watched it.
While I enjoyed it, I cursed it at the same time. The premise of the movie was one I have been developing on my own to wrap many of my storylines into a single volume. Shit! So now, I can’t use that one anymore. It would have been perfect. But, I digress.
Other people have trouble seeing the conflict in my mind. Most say, “If I can write it, I must be able to do it.” It’s also been suggested that “If I can write it, I must be a misogynist.” While I understand how people make that leap, I don’t agree with it. I simply have an active imagination which I choose to document.
Besides, not all of my imaginative visions are violent. Many are loving, touching scenes of people who are deeply into each other. Others are sexy, usually graphic scenes of the greatest gift Mother Nature could have given the human race. That, of course, is SEX. In case you haven’t noticed. I love sex. I love the beauty I see in mature adult women’s bodies. It doesn’t matter how old they are, how big or small, or whether they are tall or short. The mature, naked female body, in my opinion, is the best gift God or Mother Nature gave us.
Unfortunately, these other scenes running through my imagination are already being written by thousands of other authors. From what I can tell, they sell well enough. If I want my writings to support my lifestyle, perhaps I should write my own.
Sorry but I don’t want to regurgitate the same thing that others are already doing. I want to write unique stories that no one else is writing. Just as I love seeing women who are different from most, who wear asymmetrical clothing, custom jewelry, interesting piercings, gorgeous tattoos and other adornments that are uncommon and individual, I like the idea of writing fresh stories that are unique and different.
What I find most fascinating is the more violent the story, the more graphic and brutal it is, the better it sells. WTF? I recognize that either you like the stories or you don’t. There is no middle ground. I’m okay with that. I’m just thankful for the thousands out there that do like and buy the stories.
Whether you believe me or not, I don’t subscribe, support and live this behavior. It is the product of my vivid imagination. Those closest to me, my friends, family, and lover know the truth. In reality, I’m a pussy. Just don’t try to stop me. That’s when my fangs come out.
In the meantime, as long as people buy it, I’ll continue to write it.
Care to comment? Please do. I always love reading what others have to say.
This week, Hillary Rodham Clinton crashed through the glass ceiling to become the first ever female candidate from a major political party in the United States of America. I am very proud to be a citizen of the U.S.A.
It was a long time coming, 240 years after the Declaration of Independence was conceived and signed by all thirteen colonies in the Americas. In my opinion, it took too long. But then again, it took too long to abolish slavery, give women the vote, enact civil rights laws, and recently, legalizing same-sex marriage.
In my mind, our country should have started 240 years ago with all of these rights guaranteed to all Americans, citizen or not. The country was founded on the concept of freedom from oppression, free speech, the right to carry arms, freedom from unreasonable search and seizure, and a host of other rights guaranteed by our constitution.
Yet, in my mind, we still have a lot of growing to do. Equal pay for equal work, the right to do with our own bodies without outside interference, be it abortion, smoking weed, or self-euthanasia. Each of these actions does not affect or injure others walking this Earth. Further growth would be accomplished by eradicating the mindset of society that violent crime, terrorism, forcible assertion of one’s beliefs upon another.
I for one will never force my morals or beliefs on someone else. It’s not my place to tell someone what to believe, nor is it someone else’s place to tell me what I should believe. No one, and I mean no one, should suffer atrocities upon their bodies or mind, simply because they are man or woman, gay or straight, religious or not, one nationality or another, liberal, progressive, or conservative, or even indifferent to the suffering of their fellow-man.
You and I may not like it but I will not try to force you to think and believe the way I do. I hope you will do the same for me.
Congratulations Presidential Nominee Hillary Clinton. Here’s hoping that I can one day refer to you as Madam President Hillary Clinton.
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I was poking around this morning, wondering what I might write about and I stumbled across this quote.
“A goal without a plan is simply a wish.” CalamusWorks
I can’t think of a day in my life where I hadn’t chosen a goal without establishing a plan. It seems natural to me. I make plans almost without conscious thought.
Take for example my recent move from my old home to my new one. Once the decision was made, I started developing the plan to make it happen and as efficiently as possible. It took months to make it happen but it did. Whenever I leave the house to do a number of errands, I don’t just get in my car and go. Instead, as I’m buckling in, I plan my route to be as efficient as possible. That means, go from one destination to another without crossing my path. Some people say I’m being ridiculous. Though I can see their point, I don’t agree. Gasoline is expensive and I don’t want to waste it by retracing my route.
When it comes to writing and painting, I also have a plan but those seem to be much more fluid in nature. It drives me crazy but I have to keep adjusting the plan as each day goes by. I know what my end goal is and I have plan to get there. However, I keep coming across so many unknowns and interruptions that I find it hard to stay on the path (plan).
Sometimes, it is simple fatigue. Sometimes someone needs my assistance and I’m glad to help. Sometimes obligations get in the way. Not that I don’t want to live up to my obligations. I do, though sometimes I wish they didn’t exist. I accepted them so I will make sure I deliver.
These and many more tend to pull me away from following the plan to writing success.
Which raises the question. With any goal and the plan that makes it happen, what is the measure of success in reaching that goal? Buying and house and moving, seems easy enough. Sign the closing papers and move in. Run an errand?
What is my measure of success in reaching my goal of becoming a well-known and successful author and painter? I have to give that some more thought. That too seems to be fluid. I want to be successful, I need to define what it means to be a successful author and painter.
Stay tuned. I’ll let you know what I come up with.
Things seem to be settling down since the shock of the change in employment status by my girlfriend and committed partner. The last 48 hours have been less stressful, we’re sleeping normally again, and I am not as worried about her as I was. Don’t get me wrong. I’m still worried about her but I’ve got it under control. Fortunately, she recognizes my paranoia. It’s there, no doubt. It’s an issue I will deal with. I worry but it’s my job to worry about her.
Does that mean I’ve gotten over my worrying for her emotional state? No, but I’ve learned that I can keep that to myself. She has enough on her plate. Speaking of, she dropped the line on me that shook me. She told me “I might just take the entire summer off.” I had not expected that but upon reflection it makes sense. What she was insistent on was that I had better “not tell her what to do”. Even better, never … ever say “we lost thousands of dollars this summer by you not working”.
No problem. If she even wants to take the fall off, by all means, go for it. If she wants to completely retire, then I’m okay with that as well. It’ll be a few years earlier than we had originally planned but so what. If it makes her happy, then I’m happy.
What does concern me were all of the future plans we had set up, which assumed her continuing to work full-time for the next couple of years. We had planned on buying a second home to winter at. Is that plan now in jeopardy? I really don’t know but I really want to spend my winters in the warm sun, drinking beers on the beach and write my books.
So, it is apparent to me that I will need to reevaluate the plan and adjust accordingly.
Well, I knew it was too good to be true. Nearly over? Not quite.
Sure enough, Murphy’s Law kicked in. Mid-afternoon yesterday, our household was kicked in the gut. The love of my life, my girlfriend and partner in the house we purchased together, lost her job.
Granted, we knew it was a possibility. Under new management, the home health care agency she worked for was going through a transition. Not only is her entire department being retired, so are many of the community programs they maintained. By years end, hundreds of citizens who depend upon their services will have to find a new agency to get the needs they need and their respective doctors prescribe.
I was well aware of the transitioning but I never fathomed the scope it would take on. My GF knew that she needed to justify her job and she worked hard at making her immediate supervisor look good. Her efforts were for naught.
The first indication came yesterday when she received a text from her supervisor that she had been canned. Minutes later, the managers under the supervisor received an email to attend a mandatory meeting within the hour. Within minutes, it was announced that due to budgetary reasons, she was being let go and she was immediately walked out of the office, unable to collect her personal effects. Not that she did anything wrong, that’s just their policy.
Now, I know what it’s like to be involuntarily terminated. It’s happened twice in my career. She has never had the pleasure. I feel for her. She’s maintaining a great front, already networking etc. I know different.
She laid awake much of the night, staring at the ceiling. Normally, when up in the middle of the night, she’ll pull out her tablet and browse the web and social sites. Not last night. I could feel the turmoil boiling in her brain.
The crappy thing is that I know from personal experience, there is nothing I can do to help except be there when she needs me. When she does, I’ll hold her, hug her, let her cry on my shoulder, whatever she needs. I will help her as she has done for me. There is no advice in the world that will help her deal with her feelings. Together, we will get through this.
One thing I know, she’ll process the feelings, transition from stage to stage and come out on the other side a stronger woman. She’ll put it behind her and look forward to the next chapter in her life. Opportunities for her abound and she’ll make the best of them. Word is spreading fast and she has already received a suggestion to come work for another agency. She is holding off and taking the time to figure out just what she wants to do.
She’ll grow from the experience and be a better person for it.
I recently came across this quote from Mr. Clemens and it gave me pause to think. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that he is so right.
“The difference between the right word and the almost-right word is the difference between lightning and a lightning bug.” — Mark Twain
However, I find it difficult to find the right word at times. The thesaurus is my best friend. I keep it handy and refer to it many times as I write. I scour on-line versions as well as a printed copy. I jump from word to word searching for the right one.
And yet, after racking my brain, time and time again, I sometimes can’t find just the right word to convey the meaning I want. When I get stuck, I’ll ask those around me. Otherwise, I’ll tag it and put it off until later.
Does this happen to you? If so, what do you do to get around it? I would love to read your comments on this topic. In the meantime, have a great day and keep on writing!
I was just having my lunch and the song ‘Light My Fire’ by the Doors came on the radio. In a microsecond, my mind retreated to the day that I first heard this song. The moment is crystal clear in my head. I can’t remember much else about that day but hearing that song always brings me to that moment.
What moment am I referring to you may ask?
As a small child and with my family, we were visiting my cousins from my father’s side, Midge and Trudy. They were sisters living in a second-floor apartment in or near Poughkeepsie, NY. I can’t be sure of exactly where but I know it was somewhere around there. Anyway, I digress. We were having a good time and I remember having fond memories spending time with them. Where they are today, is anyone’s guess. I remember them being about fifteen years older than I was and I was a small kid. Through them, I was introduced to ‘The Doors’, a Christmas gift they gave me one year, and even the layout of their living room at the time. Out the front windows, I could see the urban street below and hear the occasional siren of emergency vehicles going by. I can remember wondering, how can they sleep at night with all that racket. Little did I know that one day, I too would learn how to do that.
After the song was over, I started thinking about other songs. Eric Clapton’s song ‘Layla’ brings back to me a fellow by the name Jerry Romeo. He was a modern day Fagan from the book Oliver’. One summer I was part of his crew selling door-to-door subscriptions to the NY Times. We would jump from his van, spread out and attack the neighborhood. Afterwards, he introduced me to the therapeutic wonders of a plant commonly called ‘weed’.
Santana’s 1969 album entitled ‘Santana’ was just fabulous. So many songs on there. It’s cover fascinated me. A sketch of a lion, mouth wide open and hidden within, is the image of a topless woman, her nipples covered by the fangs of the lion. I was barely entering my teen years and just discovering the wonderful value of female gender. My cousin on my mother’s side Michael introduced me to that album to . I bought my own copy, along with ‘Abraxas’ as soon as I was able.
There’s ‘Roundabout’ on the Yes album ‘Fragile’, was first introduced to me by my best friend in high school, John Nicholas. Now there’s a guy I would love to hook back up with. I have no idea where he is today. He lost a couple of toes one summer driving a town lawn mower when he accidentally rolled it. Every time ‘Roundabout’ plays, I have to crank up the volume, blow my ear drums out and think of him.
Then there’s ‘Crimson and Clover’ which was the favorite song of a school bully by the name of Phillip Domineci. I always felt that I was his prime target. Years later, I hated the song, solely because of him. In recent years, I have come to kinda like it. You can thank Joan Jett for that. Then there’s ‘Won’t Get Fooled Again’ by The Who. Damn, so many memories related to that song, I can’t list them all.
Oh, least I forget ‘Gold Dust Woman’ from Fleetwood Mac. I turn that on with endless repeat when I’m a creative spirit, whether it be writing or painting. Hours later and often, well into the night, I’m still playing the song over and over as I put the final touches on the piece I’m working on.
The list can go on and on. One thing that surprises me with so many songs of my childhood is that while I liked them, I had no clue that so many of them had strong sexual undertones to them. At the time, I had no idea what it meant. I do now! A line from ‘Brandy’ by Looking Glass, “She saw its ragin’ glory” caught my interest but took me years to figure it out. The double innuendo is great.
I love the idea of the line “Won’t you lay me down in the tall grass and let me do my stuff” from Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Second Hand News’. So many of the songs of my early years have undertones that I missed and only decades later did I figure them out. I was young and stupid in those days. I wonder what my parents thought of me when they realized just how much I loved these songs.
What about you? Do you have memories such as the ones I describe? I look forward to reading them.