BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

I have literally lost track of the number of emails, tweets, Facebook & Myspace comments, and other communications I have received from folks following the deployment of the “Gimme Mai Shooz” blog post. In all honesty, I never expected that story to go as “viral” as it did. Granted, it was a weak virus that played out quickly, but it was probably the first blog post I have ever written that was re-tweeted and linked to from other blogs/sites more times than I could count.

And, who knows, maybe the virus is merely dormant for a short period. I suppose it could re-awaken and spread some more. I mean, it definitely is a funny story.

However, the purpose of this particular blog entry is to address the adjunct “virus” that came along with the post itself – that being the plethora of faux bets on the how and when of my demise for publicly retelling the story in the first place. This is where all of the emails, tweets, comments, etcetera, come into play. I had thrown the “want to play Clue and start a pool?” comment out as a joke, but folks picked it up and ran with it. Not something I really expected, but I don’t suppose I should have been surprised. And besides, it was fun to watch.

There were plenty of the old standby ideas submitted:

• E K in the kitchen with a knife…
• E K in the dining room with a poison sandwich…
• E K in the driveway with her car…

There were even a couple that left me wondering:

• E K with a cheese grater and razor wire…
• E K with Dr. Pepper in the bathtub…

I’m not entirely sure if that second one was a “Dr. Pepper bath” type of Beauty Tip, or if the intention was to use the carbonic & phosphoric acids in the soda to dissolve my remains. In addition to the Clue-like wagers, there were even several suggestions for torture and punishment. I’m not entirely certain that the majority of those suggestions actually fit the crime… In fact, I think maybe some folks have seen way too many episodes of the “Jack Bauer Show” .

Still, when it came to bets on how I would meet my end for embarking on this horrible transgression, the suggestion I received most, and the odds on favorite method for my death was:

• E K somewhere in the house with stiletto heels [add description here]

– The “somewheres“ tendered for consideration ranged anywhere from her shoe closet to just about any other room you could imagine, including some we don’t even have.

– The stiletto heels varied quite a bit in color and style. (Obviously the fashion statement was just as important as my demise.)

– The [add description here] AKA “method” by which the deadly footwear would be used to affect my untimely death varied only slightly and always involved an enormous amount of gleeful stomping and grinding on E Kay’s part, and even more bleeding and suffering on my part.

Not surprisingly, 100% of the death by high heels suggestions came from women. At first, I assumed that all of these ladies had read the RGI Miranda Trilogy, since that happened to be how a particular victim met his demise at the hands… well, feet actually… of a sociopathic killer dominatrix. Then I discovered that several of them had not yet read that far in the series.

That was a bit of a surprise…

What was really shocking to me, however, was the obvious delight most of them took in outlining the details of the scenario for me. There seemed to be a whole vicarious thrill built around it. Some of them even seemed to have spent quite a bit of time dwelling on it… Like maybe even before the whole blog ever happened, if you know what I mean… I even kind of had the feeling I was suddenly becoming a virtual surrogate for some husbands and boyfriends out there who had committed various infractions over the years.

Kinda scary… Kinda really scary, actually…

Because of that, I hope you ladies realize I’m going to be maintaining a safe distance from here on out… Especially if you show up at one of my book signings wearing high heels.

So, anyway, there’s something y’all probably need to know. E K really and truly is an extremely laid back gal. Very little fazes her, and her Evil persona in my blogs is for the most part satire. Now, this is not to say that she won’t tap dance on someone’s head if they cross her, because she definitely will. I’ve seen her do it. I even have pictures. And, I’m also not saying that she isn’t on the dominant side, because that would be a lie.  She is very much the alpha female. And, in our relationship I’m the clown in the mailroom and she’s the CEO – actually, she prefers to be referred to as The Queen, but let’s not take that side road… My point here is she actually knows about my blogs in advance. Maybe not the exact wording and such, but she definitely knows which stories are being told. So, in essence I really had little to fear – from her, anyway. The rest of you twisted women… Well…  I’m not so sure…

At least, that’s what I thought…

You see, as it happens E K gives pretty amazing back walking massages – trust me, that’ll make sense in a minute if it doesn’t already. I figure she was probably a Geisha or something of the sort in a previous life,  – (Egads, please don’t email me and tell me I’ve offended someone with the whole Geisha thing… I realize it’s a whole cultural thing and that I’m probably just focusing on a hyped aspect or something, but give me a break…) – My point being that with sitting in front of a keyboard as much as I do, I will get a crick in my back every now and again. Whenever seeing the Chiropractor isn’t affordable time-wise or money-wise, and E K notices me twisting and stretching quite a bit, she asks with much wifely compassion and concern, “Is your back hurting? Do you want me to walk on it for you?” Then she’ll go all “E K-Geisha” on me and run up and down my back a few times while it goes POP! CRACK! SKRUNCH! After that I’m all good. She really and truly does have a talent for it. Trust me, I’m not the only person for whom she’s done this. She could probably get you testimonials without even threatening anyone.

Anywho, such was the case Saturday evening… As in, the Saturday evening immediately after the blog had been going a bit viral…

I should have known something was up when instead of the normal concerned question, her offer to pop my back came out a bit differently this time. With more than just a bit of a wicked grin and an evil twinkle in her eyes the redhead pretty much issued the following order, in no uncertain terms –

“Lay down and I’ll step on you…”

I didn’t notice her shoes until it was already too late.

I blame you ladies and your suggestions.

More to come…

Murv

No. I have not forgotten how to spell. Yes, I do perpetrate a typo now and again, but don’t we all?

The title of this blog, in point of fact, means something. (No, not like Roy Neary in Close Encounters running about screaming “this means something”…Nor the spoof, Closet Encounters and Roy Dreary…Betcha’ thought I wouldn’t know that one didn’t you? Uh-huh…)

So, anyway, today’s babbling is about vernacular, accents, and “how ta’ tawk rite.” Those of you who are familiar with the Rowan Gant series know that everyone’s favorite 6 foot 6 cop, Ben Storm, has a tendency to clip his speech, and pepper it with expletives. In order to get it across to the reader, some of his dialogue is intentionally misspelled, or words are truncated by omitting letters and adding that wondrous little thing called the apostrophe. This is NOT something I did because I thought it was cool. I did it because the real life cops upon which he was based in part, actually talk that way. The one and only way to make the dialogue read the way it should sound is to truncate and generate my own phonetic spellings.

Now, those of you who have been following the series right up to the cliffhanger ending of All Acts Of Pleasure also know that Rowan is no longer in Saint Louis. No, he hasn’t moved, but he did have a need to go to New Orleans, which is where a modest portion of The End Of Desire actually takes place. This is what brings us to “tawkin’ rite.”

There is a particular bent to the New Orleanian mode of speech that you won’t find anywhere else. Having been there on more than one occasion, I know this to be true. And, no, I am not talking about Justin Wilson. From what I’ve been told, his accent wasn’t really that thick. He was just a hell of a showman. Either way, folks in New Orleans actually do have a particular mode of speech that will not be found anywhere else.

In social anthropology texts that deal with regional dialect and linguistics, the New Orleanian accent is often described as Brooklyn meets the deep south. Additionally you have a blend of French, Jamaican, Italian, Irish, and just about everything else in between making up the dialect.

So, why am I running off at the mouth about this? Like I said, a modest portion of The End Of Desire occurs in New Orleans. Therefore, in order to set the scene and be true to the region, I have had to not only recall my times there and spend time emailing a dear friend who lives in NOLA (Thanks Velvet!), but I have literally had to learn NOLAspeak in order to write the dialogue for a few of the characters.

Let me tell you…It REALLY is almost like learning a second language.

At this stage of the game there are still some tweaks that may be necessary to the incidental dialogue, however, don’t be surprised if The End Of Desire comes equipped with a one page glossary appended right in the front.

(Actually, not really…But, it crossed my mind )

That’s it for now…Time for some sleep, a couple of nightmares, and then back to writing!

MR/Murv