I resist the temptation 
to end this charade
that tastes bitter in my mouth
like warm lemonade

I wrote these lines a few days after Christmas 1984 when I was stationed at Camp Hovey, Korea a scant 15 miles from the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ) with North Korea. My first Christmas away from home. I was a dumb, naive and gullible Second Lieutenant, but my heart was there. Feeling things. Putting them on paper. We actually used paper back in those days. 

Read the entire poem at the link below. It’s free money wise. It will consume your soul of course. But souls are cheap.

https://macmann.com/verse/

I wrote this poem February 10, 2016. Not bad. Could use a little editing, I think. But not bad for a first draft. Like any good poem, and I make a leap of faith on that “good poem” thing, it is one thing, but is also another thing. It was inspired by an instant of looking back through a window as I was leaving, but in that moment of looking, a sudden connection occurred, and I saw other leavings, and standing there in that moment I was overwhelmed by the vision; the insight. To be so close, and yet in reality a million miles distant. Thus to watch.

on the sidewalk I pause
look back inside through the glass
just voiceless animations
this impression will pass

for I have to go
but I’ll tarry just a bit
try to take it all in
not be so discomfit

to be standing at the glass
is better than to crouch in the shadow
shivering and wretching
in a darkly whispered narrow

yes, I have to go
it’s abundantly clear
one last long look
so seemingly near

yet the window sunders
and the world out here is so dark
I’ve had my fill so they say
now where the hell did I park?

Perhaps it’s the name of the next Cincinnati cathedral, but without doubt it’s the scene I’ve been writing tonight.

Sister Agatha has been brought before her accuser. Devilishly handsome. And offered a drink.

And then a deal.

So far this scene is beginning very nicely.

Well, been nearly a month since last reporting Sister Agatha’s status. She’s doing well. Moments ago she and her squad stepped aboard their new ship. 

But wait. They also got a nasty unexpected surprise. A surprise that changes everything.

A little cleaning up to do to fill in a couple gaps and stuff, but this largely concludes what you might call Act One.

It’s been a good, solid day of writing for me. Best in a while. Over 1,000 words of progress, which for me, is good, because normally it’s a paragraph or two at a time it seems.

Today it flowed.

Hopefully this is a harbinger of progress to come. 

Outside a tempest of wind and rain. Inside a tempest named Agatha. Am writing a critical scene this weekend in my next novel. Letting off steam will have downwind consequences for everyone she touches. 

Interesting experience with the immediately preceding scene. I usually think long and hard about stuff before I write, but I put Agatha in touch with a new character and… off to the races. They took the scene in a different direction. All I could do was laugh, because they were having such a good time.

If only they knew what was going to happen next, then they would not be drinking so much.

Anyway. Just wanted to report in. Back to my duties.

Happy New Year! Happy New Decade!

The Twenty Twenties are going to be an important decade for me. I’ve got a lot of projects I’m going to complete in the next ten years. Several novels and several games are in various stages of development. Ten years from now we’re going to look back and say these were the years where he really came into his element.

Towards that end we’re going to start strong. My resolution for 2020 is that we will in this year finish the #CrazyTom and #FelixLovesAgatha projects. These novels are in different stages, but both can be achieved.

So, we’re going to get this thing done. I owe it to these stories. These stories deserve to be told. 

There’s no rewind button on life. And no damn pause button either.

Here’s my New Wave “Silent Night” that we recorded Christmas 1982. My sad vocals really make this one. Hope you like.

The video is a more recent creation. 

Check out https://macmann.com/music/ for the one other song I’ve posted, and with a little encouragement I might post some other songs from the old days.

Meanwhile, there’s Silent Night. Merry Christmas.

People recommend to me things they think I might like to watch. You know. Television stuff. Sometimes movies that are now available on one of the various things.

I love these recommendations, you know. Oh man, what a cool premise. Or, I really dig that actor/actress. 

I would never say, “Don’t bother telling me about stuff”, but you know, here I am trying to write something that might be interesting enough for someone to turn into a script to be on TV or be the basis of a film, and I’m having enough trouble balancing the needs of eating, breathing, working the day job versus writing the story.

I feel bad, a bit. I want to watch stuff. 

But Felix wants to crawl up into Agatha’s arms and snuggle. I mean, who wouldn’t? 

I’ve really got to get off my ass and finish this first draft of FelixLovesAgatha. I will never forgive myself for being a slug of a writer.

Well, the Solstice is upon us yet again. 2019 version. And a perfect segue to remind you (or inform you) that my novel Winter Solstice, an eclectic and trippy romp set in a slightly warped 1970’s mid-America (I mean, the 1970’s were already warped) pitting NAZIs versus spies versus corporate robots versus college students. There are rock concerts, psychedelic drugs, angst, police brutality, car crashes, terrorists, and all sorts of groovy stuff.

And there’s still time to get it for someone for Christmas through the wonders of print on demand. Or through the wonders of e-readers. 

www.amazon.com/dp/1453601457/

Something that I am painfully aware of is that I am, in my own little bubble, an entertainer. It is sometimes difficult in my own mind to separate my public persona from my real self. That my public persona is sometimes inserted in place of the real self. And in this process I am not entirely sure which of me that you see is the real me. Not entirely which of me that I see is the real one.

I feel…. guilty… a little bit… for being this way. A little bit.

It’s freaky. What do you want me to be? I’ll be that. It’s easier to be what you want me to be.

Than to actually show you what I am feeling.

The shield – the veneer – of silliness, and carefree relaxation – obscures a deep abandonment and isolation. It fuels my creativity, but I am on the edge of self-destruction. 

Anyone who has not walked in these shoes can hardly understand.