The Average

His peasant parents killed themselves with toil
To let their darling leave a stingy soil
For any of those smart professions which
Encourage shallow breathing, and grow rich.

The pressure of their fond ambition made
Their shy and country-loving child afraid
No sensible career was good enough,
Only a hero could deserve such love.

So here he was without maps or supplies,
A hundred miles from any decent town;
The desert glared into his blood-shot eyes;

The silence roared displeasure: looking down,
He saw the shadow of an Average Man
Attempting the exceptional, and ran.

Thanks to cvirginia.wordpress.com for the text.

I know you people are enjoying the kitten saga, because their pictures and updates get more hits than my stories or poetry.  (Thanks for that.)  Allow me to share with you, then, an unsettling ancillary subplot.

MamaCat has a brother.  We know this because the family markings are unmistakable.  He continues to live in the wild.  He’s got that scraggly, wild, feral look.

And he’s huge.

This is the second time the patches of woods in and around Bay Shore have yielded an apparent Supercat.  (The other giant, smoky-colored black cat is equally daunting.)  I don’t know why members of Felis Catus in suburban New York are attaining the size of smaller bobcats, but it’s happening.

Anyway, it make me think of that 70’s-tastic split-screen-effect- extravaganza, “The Food of the Gods.”  I was actually unaware that this was an H.G. Wells adaptation.  I just remember it being a Saturday afternoon movie that enthralled me when I was a kid.

If I succeed in getting a picture of Huge Uncle, or the radioactive food source that almost certainly nourishes him, I will definitely post it.

“It has been suggested that the purpose of stories—that is, the evolutionary advantage they confer—is in their ability to prepare us for threats and challenges we have yet to face. (Again, interestingly, the same has been suggested of dreams.)  It’s no wonder, then, that one of the most ubiquitous pieces of writing advice you are likely to encounter is to focus on conflict. Because not only does conflict get our attention, it can offer us tools with which to deal with difficulties in our own lives.”

This is one of the best articles I’ve read about writing in a long time; it went right into my bookmarks.  (And my humble opinion is that there is a lot of nebulous, touchy-feely bull$+I+ floating around the Internet about fiction and creativity.)

Thanks to Dagda Publishing for the link via their Facebook page today.

http://litreactor.com/columns/5-essential-brain-hacks-for-fiction

“The show is on the bubble. Hannibal simply does not have the ratings to be considered viable for an extended life on a network.”

IGN.com:

http://www.ign.com/articles/2014/07/13/nbc-on-the-struggle-to-get-a-main-stream-audience-for-hannibal?utm_campaign=fbposts&utm_source=facebook

Yeah, whatever.  I indeed am Crazy Cat Man.

Super Smart Art Girl just called me Crazy Cat GUY.  That sounds … cool or hip.  Or at least a moniker for someone under age 40.

Your daily hit of kitten pics is right here:

Thanks to RJ Summers (coolest Canadian ever) for sharing this.  Originally posted on the “Deep Abyss” Facebook page.

It’s cool to look at the “Deep Abyss” Facebook page.  BUT DON’T LOOK TOO HARD, BECAUSE IT ALSO LOOKS INTO YOU.

Hi!  You guys are AWESOME.

Anyway, yes — I have been googling the location of US military bases and oil reserves, as well as major east-west highways in the eastern United States.  It has been suggested to me that you guys keep track of google searches like that from time to time.

I am NOT one of the bad guys.  I PROMISE.  I am a science fiction writer trying to imagine a fictional future war.  I am trying to write the next novel in my book series.

PLEASE do not send me to Guantanamo Bay.  OR Room 101.

Please do not have Jack Bauer torture me for answers.  Yes, I now he is a fictional character on a television program.  But that Dude is so badass that I think he is actually capable of breaking the fourth wall, and invading our reality, using the superpowers of American pluck and just straight-up murdering everyone.

Oh!  I was perusing the ACLU website the other day only because I was making fun of those liberal clowns!  They say “Fourth Amendment;” I say “DORK Amendment!”  Hahahahaha!  You guys totally know where I’m coming from, amiright?!

Anyway, you guys are doing a GREAT JOB.  You guys are AWESOME.  Seriously.  Shine ON, you crazy diamonds!

Legally yours,

Eric Robert Nolan

That’s how I’ve been describing the four kittens that arrived via stork last night to the MamaCat that inhabits the parking lot behind my building.  Either that, or “TINYCATS!,” with all the exuberance of age six.

It’s been brought to my attention that I am gaining a reputation as Crazy Cat Man, but I don’t care.

Pictured below are MamaCat and three of my new friends.  The fourth is actually a little black cat (who presumably takes after his father).  I actually only discovered him about an hour ago, because he … hides in the shadows like the tiniest little ninja that ever was.

If I ever succeed in photographing the finger-length assassin, I will post it.