Arlo

 

Six stories they don't want you to read

 Tales of life, love, desperation, and wonder. Can be found at Barnes and Noble online bookstore, as well as Amazon.

arlo vegan

 

How Long Do Grudges Last?

      

     Major, life-altering, grudges can be a different subject altogether. In my case, ten years of traumatic bullying by my stepfather had me thirsting for revenge long after the man passed away. I was writing of the story in a book titled "Beyond the Dark Water" when self-induced revelations somehow caused the grudge to collapse and expire. In other words, for me, it takes sixty years to let such a bastard off the hook. 

     Grudges have many levels. They affect millions of minds, some of which can be sensitively forgiving, while others seem set in stone. Some harbor grudges as manifestations of deeper problems.

     I don't claim to be an expert, and I have certainly carried unreasonable grudges in my rather long lifetime. My question is, "When do grudges expire?" How long can they be allowed to gnaw at one's entrails like ravenous worms? I have encountered people harboring minor grudges for decades. - While the target may be long gone, or not aware of it at all. In the end, who are we hurting most: ourselves or the target? 

      

ARLO, amiable arachnid

 

my lyrics

 Before my retirement life was so hectic I couldn't write stories. The discord was unreal. I used my creative impulses to write song lyrics, mainly to keep my hand in. Bonus: This kind of writing helps one make a habit of word economy. I don't read, play, or sing music. None of my family and friends do. So these samples of my lyrics are just a partial record of past activity. They have been praised by some, and disparaged by others. Here is a sampling:

1. Daisy Plumtree, Lady Outlaw

Daisy Plumtree was a lusty one,
She loved an old buffalo gun.
She'd shoot her round,
Then stand her ground,
Where many men might run.

If her ways was rough and raw,
She learned it from her paw;
Who killed eight men,
Then made it ten,
Which set his fate with the law.

She was Daisy Missy Plumtree
Rough and ready
Rode the outlaw trail
To rob the outbound mail
Missy Daisy Daisy Plumtree
(repeat)

She went on the lam in Mexico
And fell in with Two Feathers Crow
She leaned her gun
In Crow's wigwam
Made from hides of buffalo

But the soldiers killed her man
He was crossing the Rio Grande
Daisy got hung
Before she swung
Said Daisy Crow is who I am

She was Daisy Missy Plumtree
Rough and ready
Rode the outlaw trail
To rob the outbound mail
Missy Daisy Daisy Plumtree

2. Little Songs

When the world runs out of wrongs
I’ll be writing no more songs
But for now
I say wow
Business is very good

I’ll keep writing little songs
‘Til there’s peace in battle zones
‘Til congress notes
The change with votes
Until then I must conclude

When a child’s peaceful at night
When love’s a symbol not might
No hunger
No danger
Until then I’ll just be rude

I’ll keep writing little songs
Loud enough to rattle bones
To spit it out
In one big shout
Until then I must conclude

When folks die of poverty
The wrong ideology
Jealousy
Notoriety
Until then I’ll just be crude

I’ll keep writing little songs
Its my way to battle wrongs
To spit it out
In one big shout
Spit it out
One big shout
Spit it out
One big shout
Spit it out

3. Once Upon a Perfect Time

Cold yellow walls, chandeliers like diamonds.
Your body still and silent as a range of ancient tired mountains.
Attend to me, Love; can you feel it; the sadness in our holy mansion?
See, the listless ghost of beauty walks these lonely halls
And the dust of her passing lifts then slowly falls,
Meeting with your flesh and turning gray and ashen.
You look upon her the way any prisoner looks upon the warden,
Then wilt inside your tiny cell, for you know full well there will be no pardon.
Will you sit with me; rise up My Love; come out into the garden.
The sun will be shining there as I comb out your tangled hair
And braid it into a rope the size and length you wore it as a maiden.

Ah, every star`s a wishing star;
Dream you`re my princess; you are.
It was once upon a perfect time,
Your eyes were cast on mine.
Your hair descended like a jacob`s ladder.
I climbed into your den.
We lay down in perfect zen.
But now the forces of destiny gather.

And your body is cold, though the sun`s ablaze like diamonds.
My soul aches for you, My Love, even as it roves to look for future mansions.
We are betrayed by time and death, dear Murdered Rose. I must burn this house of pretensions.
The dogs of loss sniff outside the door impatiently,
Smell your flesh so sweet. Don`t feel hate for me
As I spill upon the floor in floods the gasoline, don`t mention
How your magic gave to me selfish love, oh bird in detention.
See the flames embrace the timbers and lace, then hug the lovely statue in the garden.
As I haste to leave, Good-bye, My Love, I know a mansion afar that`s waiting.
Animals dance without care for the sleeping maiden there
Whose love is a golden award for the one invading.

And every star`s a wishing star;
Dream you`re my princess; you are,
Every once upon a time,
Every once upon a perfect time.
See her on the bed asleep, My Love.
See; she lies so still and pure;
Our love will be cement and sure,
This one more once upon a perfect time.

My book EndEarthers

 It gets many responses. Most have been favorable. I got one DNF (did not finish) and one three stars on Amazon. But this one response makes every second I've spent writing worth it. 

Hi Charles! I just wanted to reach out and share that I just had a mental breakdown that caused me to be in the psych ward for the past 6 days (just got out yesterday). While I was in there, I finally had time to read again, so I read your book EndEarthers as a means of distraction from my thoughts and it really helped a lot. It also helps that it's so far a really great read and I wish more people with your perspective wrote as well. So I just want to thank you for writing it because it helped me stay sane.

Spacer: The Last of the Species

This morning I wrote the last sentence of a first draft. This one is a tale of a man five years alone after the final world war. The ETs waiting to inherit the planet are stymied because Spacer won't die. Their creed forbids taking over until he is gone. Another catch: They are not allowed to kill him. An ET representative comes down to see what he can do about it. Spacer is roughly modeled after Charles Bukowski with notable exceptions at the beginning. He and a dog that he fears live in partnership scavenging the city. Ten and a half thousand words at this point. Editing will likely be rough, not because of mistakes but because quite a few passages need restructuring.  

Turner On Writing

You can ignore this voice of the not-formally educated if you like. I left the system as I was about to turn sixteen. I was a reader all of my life until my eyes became too weak. My knowledge of grammar and my understanding of words are based on what I picked up from various authors, not Strunk and White. When I edit a story, I read as one reads any author, looking for the flow, stumbling on errors, and cluttered language. I do this as often as necessary. I opt for simple words because ornate paragraphs confuse me and cause me to lose interest. Also, simplicity makes editing easier. When I wrote my last book I wrote as I normally speak, then cleaned up overly sloppy portions, while retaining my original voice. My subject matter rarely calls for research, making the simple simpler. Lastly, I use the free version of Grammarly, which is overly intrusive, but it helps the way a thesaurus and a dictionary help. Grammarly can screw up a sentence if you don't watch it carefully. Lastly, I write what I want to write. If it sells, great. If not - Well, it may be discovered and made use of in some future I am not a part of. Good luck if you too are a writer.   

SNOW SNOW GLORIOUS SNOW

 27 degrees, flakes on the ground.

My dog runs in the snow.

Frank the cat is hiding somehow.

Don't know where he would choose to go

Snow snow, Houston snow

What did we do, it abuses so

Snow snow f**k the glorious snow

The 1950 version

 This is how Highway 61 Revisited might sound if recorded in 1950.

Butter and Salt

 My favorite cooking utensil is my cast iron skillet. For years I struggled to keep it seasoned. Lately I discovered via Youtube that the answer is olive oil and salt. I didn't want to use up what olive oil I had on hand. Since the skillet often has a residue of butter, I substituted that for olive oil. Works like a charm. Just heat the skillet, put in some butter and salt and scrub it down, using no other ingredient. Wipe it out. I doubt if any system is perfect, but I'm satisfied with the results I get.

A DOG NAMED RINGO

 Protect your pet they said. If you are cold they are cold, they said. So it's in the thirties and the heat is on. So where's the dog? Out running the yard. Came in for a quick snack, held it in his mouth and went to the door to be let out. I told the shelter when we adopted he would mostly stay indoors. Not this dog. He lives in the yard. I make him sleep indoors but he would stay outside if I let him. ?????????

Ringo is a Shepherd mix, the only dog I have had with ears that stand up. His original owner may have kept him tied in the yard. Something has made him occasionally whistle, as though a rope or choke chain was yanked too hard or perhaps running until the rope checked his speed. He is independent; if you tell him to do something he doesn't do it unless he wants to or gets bribed with a snack. But he has separation anxiety as exhibited each time I unlock the gate and leave the yard. He does seem to love me because during his indoor time he hangs close and naps near my feet.