Being a writer is validating. I get to meet people who are even more alcoholic than I am. 

😀

From a friend …

I am in favor of this.

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Waddya know.

I made the “Class Notes” section of the Mary Washington College Magazine,

Evidently I will never live down the legend of “The Man In The Green Jacket!”  (Long story.)

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This was posted by my college friend G last night.

The irony?

Writers like me usually can’t afford to eat this well!

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For my BritBuds!!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zj7OJeyhq2Q

I love this.

Not only is Santiago Carbonell posing with my favorite painting of his, but I love how his look conveys that he is cool and intense and artistically bad-ass. ALL OF US WISH WE WERE THIS DAMN COOL.

If you are a writer looking for inspiration, you need look no further than Santiago Carbonell and some strong coffee.

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Merry Christmas, All!!!

To all of my good friends, including the chaps and ladies across the pond in Merry Olde England, I wish you the very happiest of yuletides!!!

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“A Visit from St. Nicholas”

A Visit from St. Nicholas

BY CLEMENT CLARKE MOORE

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds;
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave a lustre of midday to objects below,
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny rein-deer,
With a little old driver so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment he must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
“Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blixen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”
As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
So up to the housetop the coursers they flew
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too—
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a pedler just opening his pack.
His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly
That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight—
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”
 

Somebody call Fox Mulder …

Okay, so you guys know I have been joking around online recently asking people if they believed in psychic phenomena.

I don’t.  I am a strict empiricist at heart, and right now, so far as I know, the best available evidence leads us to conclude these phenomena do not exist.

Still, coincidences do happen.  And sometimes they’re damn freaky.  Something was brought to my attention recently that was so strange that I hesitate to even post about it.

Another author commented on my Goodreads page the other day that he “almost didn’t get the reference” I’d made in my book, “The Dogs Don’t Bark In Brooklyn Any More.”  He included a link for a page about “A Tree Grows In Brooklyn,” the famous 1943 novel by Betty Smith.  “Clever!” he wrote.

I have never read “A Tree Grows In Brooklyn.”  I was vaguely aware that there was a film by that title – I actually thought it was a Christmas movie.  (I am the first to admit that I am nowhere near as well read as my friends.)  Beyond the title, I knew nothing.

I pulled up the Wikipedia page for the book and started reading, curious as to what my friend was referring to.  What I found was … surprising.  Read on …

1)       For starters, the two titles are similar (employing the repetition of the sounds “r” and “o” for consonance and assonance).

2)      Both books are about a young girl growing up in an Irish family in Brooklyn.

3)      “Tree” takes place in Williamsburg, Brooklyn.  “Dogs” takes place in Park Slope, Brooklyn.  Williamsburg and Park Slope are less than ten miles apart.

4)      The family in “Tree” has the last name of NOLAN.  (This is where things start really getting a little odd.)

5)      The mother in “Tree” is named “Katie.”  My mother’s name is Kathleen.

6)      “Tree” has a character named “Thomas.”  My brother’s name is Thomas.

7)      The main character in “Tree” is named “Francie.”  (It is short for “Frances.”)  The most important supporting character in “Dogs” is named “Francis.”  It is suggested for thematic reasons that he is androgynous.

8)      In “Tree” a supporting character named “Johnny” (the father) is an extremely talented singer, and works as a singing waiter.  In “Dogs,” a supporting character named “Janey” is an extremely talented singer, and was once a nightclub performer.

9)      Both books portray an alcoholic father who is consequently unable to fully care for his family.  In both books, the daughter loves him anyway.

10)   In “Tree,” the alcoholic father is a singing waiter.  In “Dogs,” a scene features the father singing in the street (albeit badly) to make the neighbors laugh.

11)   “Tree” features an Irish girl dating the son of Austrian immigrants.  “Dogs” features an Irish girl dating the son of Russian immigrants.

12)   Both books follow a structure in which we jump back and forth between time periods in the characters’ lives.

13)   “Tree” depicts a girl being saved by another character from a sexual assault at the age of 14.  “Dogs” depicts a girl being saved by another character from a sexual assault at the age of 17.

14)   Both books refer to a stillbirth occurring in the past.

15)   Both books employ flowers as a central repeated motif.  In “Tree,” flowers symbolize hope and beauty, in “Dogs,” roses symbolize evil.

16)   Both books are coming of age stories in which the main character loses her innocence.

17)   Both books have an overall theme of employing tenacity and determination to overcome difficult challenges.  (In “Dogs,” this is most explicitly stated in the chapter, “Gameness.”)

18)   Both books feature scenes on a fire escape.

19)   Both books portray overcrowding in New York City.  In “Tree,” this is due to the family living in a poor area.  In “Dogs” it’s due to the influx of refugees from a war.

20)   “Tree” has WWI as a backdrop.  “Dogs” is about (a fictional) World War III.

Am I making too much of this if I find it all very strange?  I SWEAR that I have never read “A Tree Grows In Brooklyn.”  I’m also pretty damned sure I never saw a film adaptation on television and just forgot about it.   (Anyone who knows me could tell you I am obsessive about movies and need to remember the names of actors and actresses.)

I think what strikes me the most is the names and location of the characters being so similar – not to mention the real names of my real family.

I’m not concluding anything from this, except that life can be strange, and coincidences can be funny sometimes.

Nurse Your Favorite Heresies in Whispers