BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

It’s still painful to talk about. I know it has been a whole week now, but it seems like it was only yesterday. The horror of it all is still fresh in my mind, and I find myself waking up in a cold sweat as the nightmares plague my slumber. I guess that’s what I get for surviving…

It was cold. Especially for Florida. Of course, it was also early November and George Bush had stopped denying global climate change, so those were just the dice Momma au Naturale dealt us. The Sunshine State caught in the grip of a cold snap of epic proportions. Unbelievable as it may seem, when the sun dipped below the horizon the mercury would plummet into the danger zone. Yes… the 50’s. I actually had to wear my hoodie.

EK, John, and Murv - Prior to the ill-fated Trick or Drunking Expedition

Earlier in the day, provisions had been running low. That’s how it is with Corona and lime when you are at a festival in Florida. One minute there’s enough, the next, not so much. We scraped together a twenty from my wallet and handed it off to the provisions maven. We never saw her again. Who knew a Jackson could take you that far…

Well… Not far enough, because that’s about the time the trolley broke down. Any seasoned Festival-goer knows that when the Trolley breaks down you’re as good as dead – but we weren’t ready to give up. Steeling our resolve, we grabbed our plastic cups and set out down the pass to go “Trick or Drunking.” We’d heard a rumor that Pirates had set up camp below, and if we could make it there, perhaps they would share their rum with us. Or not. One never knows about Pirates, but we had to try.

The trip was arduous. We lost three on the way, not sure if they succumbed to the cold, were eaten by the rogue bear, or simply turned back. Eventually, however, we made it to our destination. After much parlay, the assignation of Piratey names, and selling off E K to the “Feral Cathouse” run by the Buccaneers, we were accepted into the fold and beaten severely about the head and shoulders – and livers – with rum that had been shown a picture of fruit punch. But it wasn’t allowed to look for very long, as it was only supposed to pick up a hint of the fruity punchiness…

Sometime during the darkness, a roving band of strange women, each dressed in black and adorned with bright red lipstick, descended upon the Pirate camp. Even the Pirates cowered, powerless against their overwhelming osculation. And yes, they scurried about like little pixies, kissing all of the male types and leaving gihugic Angelina Jolie lip prints on our faces.

We were sore afraid, and a bit titillated as well, but that’s a different story.

Eventually, seeing as we had brought the strange women upon them, the Pirates made us walk the plank. Being on land already it wasn’t much of a plank, however, there was the mountain, for we eventually had to return to our base camp at the summit.

John – as in John Gramling… Yes. THE John Gramling – downed what was left of his punch drunk rum and pointed at the distant lights in the sky. He burped, hiccuped, and then said, “I ain’t climbin’ that mountain.”

E K, who had been kicked out of the “Feral Cathouse” for torturing the clientele looked ahead and replied, “Psshaw! It’s just a gentle incline.”

“It’s a damn mountain,” John repeated.

And so we braved the cold, the wind, and the bear, stalking off into the early morning darkness (it was after midnight) and climbed the Altoona Mountains there in Florida. Just her worship THE E K, and me…

We never saw John again. Rumor has it RD ate him when the Pirates finally ran out of rum, but then, RD is like that. (You’d understand if you’d ever met RD…)

And there you have the true story of The Gramling Party. I’m sure that mountainside is haunted now… By John and a case of Corona. Maybe I’ll go back and look for him some day. I’m pretty sure he forgot to take the lime with him…

More to come…

Murv

There are these bizarre, unwritten rules that we are supposed to follow. Not everyone has the same set of rules, or if they have similar rules, they might not be to the same degree. It’s sort of like that whole “moral-ethical” dilemma question I pose in my Ethics Workshop. What it comes down to is that whole, “we each have morals/ethics, but they are a little bit different than the guy sitting on your left or right might have.”

Same thing for the rules. We all have these unwritten rules that we have to follow, but each person’s is a little bit different – or sometimes a lot different – from those of their neighbor(s).

Some of them are self-imposed. Others are imposed by some bizarre, nameless collective in the sky. Kinda like “the cloud” I guess. Although, most of us realize what the cloud actually is… But we won’t tell the folks who don’t. We’ll just laugh at them behind their backs. Or in front of their backs as the case may be. You never know with “the cloud.”

But back to those unwritten rules. As I said, some of us have rules that are vastly different than those of our neighbors. Case in point, authors. You see, we have unwritten rules that we have to follow, and they haven’t got a damn thing in the world to do with writing. Among these unwritten rules from Mount Olympus (or wherever) is one that really, really irks me.

People get to say whatever they damn well please to us, and we are supposed to stand there and just smile and nod like one of those bobble headed cow figurines on the dashboard of your grandmother’s car…

What? That was only MY grandmother? Oh… Well, you know the figurines I’m talking about, so all good…

Anywho, I thought you might like to know what really goes through my head when people say ridiculous things to me.

Now, so you understand, I’m not talking about bad reviews. I don’t care about that crap. I’ve already stated many bazillions of times that I don’t even read reviews. They waste my time. Either you like my work or you don’t. Me calling you names if you don’t isn’t going to make you like it any better, whether I do it in public like the moron on the internet, or I do it in my head.

So, nope, that’s not what I mean. What I am talking about is when folks say ridiculous things to me during, at, or around a book signing or appearance. The unwritten rule says that I am supposed to nod and smile.

Now… You may be wondering what brought all this on. Well, nothing actually. I just happened to be looking for a blog topic and at the same time I accidentally thought about some of the utter crap that people have said to me over the years. Those two thoughts collided and I figured, “What the hell? I might be able to make something out of that.”

So… Here it is. Some of the things people have literally (I’m not kidding) said to me over the years that I have had to smile and nod at. And really, I am NOT kidding. People have actually said these things to me. And, I’ve nodded and smiled.  But here, as you are about to see, what my grin and bobbling head are doing on the outside are diametrically opposed to what is running through my gray matter.

Make note, you’ll probably find this to be a bit snarky, but ya’know, one good snark deserves another-

Random Person: “If you give me one of your books I’ll read it and let you know if it is any good.”

On The Outside: Smile… Nod… Smile

On The Inside: “If you give me your wallet I’ll go out and buy myself dinner and I’ll let you know if it was any good. Wake up you moron. Since when did I OWE you a book? On top of that, who appointed you Book Czar? Whether you like the book or not that doesn’t mean it’s good or bad. That goes for any book, not just mine. Get over yourself.”

Random Person: “You need a new cover artist. Your covers really suck.”

On The Outside: Smile… Nod… Smile

On The Inside:  “I’ll tell him you said that. By the way, you need a new fashion consultant. That shirt you’re wearing is about to make me puke.”

Random Person: “I really hated [Insert M. R. Sellars Book Title Here] .”

On The Outside: Smile… Nod… Smile

On The Inside: “Well damn. I was writing it just for you too. I’ll call the publisher and tell them to recall all of the copies and hold a public burning. Will that make you feel better?”

Random Person: “[Insert Number] of years ago I talked to you at a book signing and told you that you needed to write a book about [insert topic here] and you promised me you would. When are you going to do that? I’ve been waiting! You owe me!”

On The Outside: Smile… Nod… Smile

On The Inside: “Noooooo, actually I just nodded and smiled at you a lot. I never promised you a damn thing. I might have said that I would think about it just so I could make you go away and leave me alone, but I never promised you sh*t. You just made that up in your head. On top of that, I would still have to sell the idea to my publisher, ya’know. So, the long and short is this – If you want a book about that topic so bad I’m not stopping you from writing it.”

Random Person: “Here’s [insert babbling here] idea for a book. You can use it but you have to split the royalties with me. When can I expect a check?”

On The Outside: Smile… Nod… Smile

On The Inside: “{sigh} Not again… While your idea about pagan pirate space aliens with three penises kidnapping all of the exotic dancers in New Jersey and turning them into go-go dancing sex slaves on planet 72W-99DXZ is fascinating – especially when you seamlessly (cough) work in the disembodied ghost of Sherlock Holmes solving the Jack the Ripper case while aboard the sinking Titanic, and partnering with glowing mummies who eat nothing but SPAM… I… Uh… I just don’t think I can do it justice. Write it yourself and leave me the f*ck alone…”

 

Random Person: “Next time you have a book release party you need to have chocolate cake. I don’t like yellow cake.”

On The Outside: Smile… Nod… Smile

On The Inside: “Listen… Lardass… I just watched you eat three pieces of that damn cake, then walk past the table and stuff handfuls of hors d’oeuvres into your shopping bag as well as your face, along with one of the unopened bottles of Champagne. If you don’t like yellow cake then don’t eat it. It’s not like I charged you for any of it, and by the way, I also noticed that you didn’t even buy a goddamned book, so shut the f*ck up and get out of my face before I kick your food stealing ass into next week.

Again, I would like to stress that YES, people really and truly have said the above things to me. There are plenty more too, but I’ll leave it at that. I think you get the idea…

So, the next time you see me nodding and smiling at someone, odds are I’m ripping on them in my head. Guess what? That’s exactly how I keep myself smiling…

More to come…

Murv