A dozen years ago I read Ray Bradbury’s book, The Zen of Writing. His book turned the way I thought about writing on it’s head. I read it once, and I read it again. I read it every year to learn again from one who was in love with writing. In this short 2 minute YouTube video of Ray Bradbury, I hope you catch the fever of writing with love for life.
Do I Have To Tell You Everything?
Farlo, Tina, and Joey stood outside the black and white. Joey half turned and stared at the black and white. “Tina’s not going to be happy. You’ll be lucky if she doesn’t figure out you’re a fake and tosses your butt in the can.” Joey gloated.
Farlo not looking at Joey, said, “I got a hundred dollars says she asks me to go to her place for a glass of wine after O’Rourke’s.”
“You know I don’t have any money. You quit my job for me. You haven’t paid me a cent in the three weeks we’ve known each other. How can I make a bet with money I don’t have?”
“The only reason you haven’t been paid is that Filo knows you can’t handle cash.”
“How does Filo know that?” asked Joey.
“I told him,” growled Farlo. Then he added, “Give me your left arm.”
“Why? What are you going to do with it?”
“I’m going to cut it off and beat you over the head with it. What do you think I’m going to do with it?”
Joey stuck out his left arm, “You’re kidding, right?”
Farlo snapped the cuffs back on Joey, “Let’s go punk.”
“Why the attitude?” said Joey.
“I’m getting into character, don’t take it personal,” growled Farlo.
“What’s my character?” said Joey.
“Do I have to tell you everything?”
“Un huh,” said Joey.
“You’re a punk. I’m dragging you along to identify Harry J. You’re turning state’s evidence against him,” said Farlo.
“What did Harry do? What did I do?”
“It’s all fake, you didn’t do anything. Make it up. Wing it. Tap dance your way through. Do you want me to write Cliff Notes on your arm?”
“That’s how I got through high school,” said Joey.
“I have no clue what Filo saw in you. No one on the team wanted to take you in. Filo overruled us. He’s the boss.”
“Filo knows greatness. Who’s Filo?” asked Joey.
“Never mind, punk. It’s go time,” snarled Farlo dragging Joey to the door.
A chubby, retired Walmart employee now supplementing his income as a security guard blocked the door’s entrance, “Where are you going?”
Farlo took one look at the guy and said, “One of two places, I going through you or kicking your ass and walking through unimpeded.” Tina growled.
“Sorry officer, simple misunderstanding. Nice doggy,” said the guard and stepped out of the way.
Farlo pulled Joey through and pushed him. Joey stumbled, looked up at Farlo, “A little less realism would be a big help.”
A very official svelte looking woman in a navy blue skirt, navy blue suit jacket and white silk blouse, and stiletto heels came rushing over. “Just hold it there. Who are you? Who is this putrid looking creature in handcuffs? Dogs are not allowed in here.”
Farlo glanced at her. “You’re not bad looking. If you let your hair down, ditched the business suit, and wore a little makeup I could dig you. As it is, I’m tied up with Officer Martinez tonight. She’s got the look. You could learn a lot from her.”
“What are you talking about?” said the woman.
“I’m talking about what makes the world go around and around and around.”
“I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” said the woman.
“I’ll tell you who does?” said Farlo.
“Who?” asked the woman mesmerized by Farlo’s deep blue eyes.
“Harry J. He’ll tell you all about it. Where is he?”
“Harry J? Harry J? Why? Why? Why?” she stuttered, her eyes unable to walk away from Farlo’s magnetic pull.
“Your digital recording is stuck on two tracks, sister. You want to take the heat on this caper, you won’t like women’s prison. You’ll have to wear a jump suit that wasn’t purchased at Saks.”
“Oh dear,” said the woman.
“The last I saw him, he was in Room 112 or was it Room 117 or was it 100. They keep moving him around. My name’s Margaret Johnson. I’m the activities director. Do you really think I would be more attractive with your tips?”
“You’d knock my socks off?” said Farlo.
“What are you doing about 8 tonight?”
“What about me?” asked Joey.
“Your eyes look like fish eyes. I don’t date sardines, kid.”
Farlo looked at Joey, shook his head, “You got to learn when to keep quiet, kid. You don’t have a clue.”
“Will you teach me?” begged Joey.
“We’ve got to rescue Harry J first. Let’s move out.”
Farlo and Tina started down the east wing. Joey trailed behind. Margaret watched and blew a kiss toward Farlo, he turned, smiled and stuck up his arm to make as if he caught it.
Will they ever rescue Harry J? Who is Harry J and why is he important? Will Farlo and Margaret get together? What about Martinez? Will Joey ever meet Filo? Who’s Filo?
It’s Between You And You
You and I have 24 hours in our day. You and I have 1440 minutes in our day. And, we have 86,400 seconds in our day. We all start from the same starting line each day. Where we finish is influenced by the effort we put into each of those seconds. Get Inspired with the 2 minute YouTube video by Hall of Fame football player Ray Lewis’s motivational talk on effort.
Catch The Writing Bug
I knew I wanted to write in second grade. I caught the writing bug and it stayed with me. I think everyone who blogs has the writing bug. If you’re like me, you have to write. It’s they way we express our creativity. The following short YouTube video features the late Elmore Leonard offering writers free advice on writing. Learn from a master.
It’s All Show Biz
Farlo cut in front of Honest Johns Emergency Plumbing truck, which caused honest John and his son who was on probation for possession with intent to sell to swerve in front of a drop off mom who was rushing from the elementary school where she dropped off her two kids. She was going to Gold’s Gym where she had a 9:30 a.m. appointment with her personal trainer and lover. The drop off mom, wanting to avoid hitting honest John, swerved into the passing lane where she sideswiped a senior citizen bus headed to the Bingo Hall for a Bingo Tournament. The senior bus back ended a farm to market truck carrying 750 cantaloupes that rolled out of the truck and crossed the highway causing a series of accidents, the likes of which had not been seen since the great fog, two weeks earlier.
Joey was looking out the back window, “You got to see this, Farlo. It’s mayhem. People are crashing into each other, cantaloupes are all over the road. Seven traffic helicopters are hovering over the scene. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought you caused it, but it happened behind us. Go figure.”
“That’s what happens, kid, when people don’t care about each other. Me? I do my best to drive carefully and always look out for the other guy,” said Farlo as he took Exit 231, went down the ramp, at the end of the ramp, he accelerated through the stop sign, and hung a left against a sign that said NO LEFT TURN. An oncoming driver avoided broadsiding Farlo and veered into a fire hydrant. The resulting geyser left a third of the town without water.
Joey had his face pressed against the window, his one free fist banging against the unbreakable glass, he mumbled nearly incoherently, “You need to be locked up. If I ever get out of here alive, I’ll tell it all,” screamed Joey.
“Who you gonna tell it to, kid? Your mommy? You’re naïve. You haven’t lived. You have no sense of adventure. You want life served on a platter with all the trimmings, that’s what you want. To you a six pack beer and a delivery pizza tops your bucket list. Life doesn’t work that way. Some days you’re lucky if you get a bad cup of coffee. Other days, it’s a good one if a bird doesn’t crap on your head. You see where I’m going?” snarled Farlo.
“Honestly? I have no idea where you’re going. Give me a hint,” said Joey.
“Where have you been for the past 24 hours, we’re going to the Last Stop Assisted Care Facility to rescue Harry J. You’re not the brightest bulb on the planet. I’d guess you’re a few cookies short of a dozen. It’s what the dope did to your pathetic brain. I’m working with silly putty instead of a perfect piece of marble, see what I’m saying.”
“I’m tired of your insults, Farlo. I’m not silly putty, I know what’s going on,” said Joey.
Farlo turned down Blanco and into a residential neighborhood. A four way stop loomed fifty feet in front of him, three cars were in line waiting their turn. Farlo hit the accelerator, turned the wheels to right, went up over the curb, and drove across three lawns leaving a trail of tire marks in perfectly manicured grass.
When he exited the last lawn, he narrowly avoided two joggers, flipped them off as he turned right on Oak Street. He looked in the rearview mirror and saw one of the joggers taking out her iPhone and snapping photos of his black and white,
“Martinez is not going to like this. She might not be in a good mood when I get to O’Rourke’s. BTW, you know what’s going on?”
“I don’t know what’s going on. I was trying to make conversation,” said Joey.
“Last Chance is two blocks up, just past the cemetery. If we don’t save Harry J, it’s going to look bad on your report. I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes, kid. Filo doesn’t tolerate failure.”
“Me! Why me? You’re the nut job. I’m spilling my guts to Filo,” said Joey.
“Look in the mirror, kid. You think Filo’s going to believe you? He’d believe I won the 2 billion Powerball before he’d believe you.”
“It’s 2 billion? Can we stop and buy a ticket? I got a question before we go in, what’s your last name? Is it Maxwell like you told Martinez?” asked Joey.
“The name’s Farlo. That’s it. It’s like Adele, Madonna, Sinatra.”
“They all had two names, what’s your other name?” asked Joey.
“It’s their show biz name. Here’s a tip for you, kid. It’s all show biz. It’s all a struggle to grab the glitter and the glitz. That’s what we’re after, the glitter and the glitz.”
“I thought we’re after Harry J.”
Farlo ignored Joey, pulled up to the guardhouse in front of the gate, the black and white’s lights flashing, Farlo lowered his window, and barked at the guard who was checking his Facebook page, “Open the gate.”
“Let me see your badge,” said the guard still staring at his Facebook page.
“Tina,” commanded Farlo.
Tina jumped on Farlo’s lap, stuck her head out the window, growled, her lips curled back over her gums, Farlo holding onto her collar faux restraining her. “This is my badge.”
“Open it.”
“Yes, sir,” said the guard.
Farlo drove down the half-mile driveway and pulled the flashing black and white under the portico. He grabbed hold of a small canister of pepper spray, got out of the car, Tina followed him. Farlo walked around the black and white, opened the rear door, removed Joey’s handcuffs and helped him out of the car.
“Listen up. It’s up to you if we are going to pull this off. Follow my lead,” ordered Farlo.
“That’s all I’ve been doing is following your lead and look where it’s got me. I’ve been handcuffed, classified as a dangerous bed wetter, I’m dressed in Goodwill clothes. I look like I’m homeless. I lost my job. And, I’m running around with some guy with only one name.”
“Perfect cover. Let’s go.”
Will they rescue Harry J? Who’s Filo? Will Joey spill his guts to Filo?
It’s About To Get Bumpy
Farlo roared down the expressway at ninety miles an hour. He let go of the steering wheel, shifted in the seat and stuck his hands in his pockets.
“What are you doing, you’re going to get us killed. We’re going nearly a hundred miles an hour and you’re driving no hands.”
Tina, resting comfortably on the front seat, half picked up her head, turned it slightly toward the back seat, and then placed it between her front paws and closed her eyes.
“I’m looking for the keys to your cuffs, kid.” Farlo grabbed hold of the wheel with his left hand drove on to center shoulder barely averting a rear end collision with a 16-wheel oil truck. Joey screamed, “Sweet Mother of God, I promise I’ll start going to Mass if you protect me from this madman.”
Farlo pulled the black and white back into the passing lane. He turned his head slightly over his right shoulder, “See what your whining caused me to do?”
“I wasn’t whining.”
“You need Kleenex for your tears.”
“I wasn’t crying. I have an allergy. What happened?”
“You made me miss my exit. You better hang on, this is going to be tricky.”
“What are you going to do? Get us killed, maimed, burned over ninety percent of our body?”
“You are such a worry wart. Where’s your trust in your mentor. I taught this stunt fifteen years ago when I was teaching aggressive driving at Filo’s aggressive driving camp. The trick is to get going fast enough to roll over four times, cut your wheels to the left as you roll over for the fourth time, and push the accelerator to the floor as you come up. The timing has to be perfect or the fuel tank will explode.”
“How many times have you done this?” said Joey.
“Never. It was only theoretical. I know it can be done, I’m not sure anybody has ever done it. If we pull it off, Filo will be impressed.”
“What if we don’t pull it off?”
“Filo’s really good about funerals.”
“I’m too young to die.”
“Too late. On the count of four, put a death grip on the door handle,” said Farlo.
“There are no handles in the backseat of a police car,” hollered Joey.
“Oh yeah. I forgot about that. Tough, kid. It’s about to get bumpy.”
The black and white cut to the shoulder, Farlo brought the black and white to within inches of the cement restraining barrier.
“I can’t look, you can’t jump the cement barrier,” shouted Joey.
“Oh no? Watch this,” said Farlo increasing speed to one hundred fifteen miles an hour. The road took a slight turn to the left. Farlo turned the wheels slightly to left, the front wheel caught the lip of the cement barrier and the black and white was airborne. The rear right tire caught the cement barrier on the way down and flipped the black and white. It rolled over once, twice, three times when Farlo hit the accelerator. Within seconds they were racing down the highway in opposite direction from which they were originally heading.
“Go figure, it’s only three roll overs. Joey? Joey?”
“I’m on the floor. Did we die? I know this isn’t heaven. It must be hell. It’s the only place that will take you.”
“Suck it up, kid. You’re alive, right?”
“I don’t know.”
“Were a half mile from the Last Chance. You play it right, I’ll put a good word in for you with Filo when he evaluates you.”
“Who’s Filo?”
Who’s Filo? Will they rescue Harry J? How will Joey do on his evaluation?
The Secret
The secret to succeeding was taught to me by my mother who didn’t get past 4th grade. It was taught to me by my father who didn’t get past 8th grade. They were of one voice, “Don’t be afraid of hard work.” I learned hard work will outperform more talented people who won’t work hard. Hard work creates a cumulative affect that lifts one up, and opens up a world of new possibilities. Enjoy the short YouTube video and get inspired to work hard.
Life – An Awesome Gift
Sometimes life’s problems weigh us down. Sometimes the struggle to go on may overwhelm us. But through it all, life is a gift, it is a wonderful, amazing, awesome gift. It’s beauty is in those we love and in those who love us. It’s in a blue sky, the winter’s first snow, or spring’s first flower. It surrounds us. It never leave us. Today I will open my eyes and my heart to this wonderful gift of life – I hope you do the same.
I’m Not Stealing – I’m Borrowing
Farlo, Tina, and Joey stood across the street from Precinct 12. “Are you crazy, we’re in front of the police station. Every cop in the city is looking for us.” Said Joey.
“Wrong, every cop in the city is looking for Dr. Big Bucks,” answered Farlo.
“What are we doing here? Harry J’s not in the police station.”
“We’re going to steal a police car,” said Farlo as if he were ordering a tall coffee from Starbucks.
“You’ve cross the line. You cannot steal a police car. It’s wrong, wrong, wrong,” complained Joey.
“Technically, I’m not stealing. I’m borrowing. The police can have it back when I’m through with it. It’s a field decision,” said Farlo. He started across the street, Tina at his side. Joey trailing behind.
They crossed the street, stood for a moment at the bottom of the steps to Precinct 12. Farlo turned to Joey, “We’re going in, follow my lead.”
Farlo opened the metal reinforced door, walked through a metal detector, towing Joey along with him. Farlo walked up to the desk sergeant, dragging Joey, who was like an obstinate child not wanting to go to bed. The desk sergeant, was a young, dark skinned Hispanic woman. Her police shirt took Joey’s mind off being dragged into the station. She looked up from her smart phone at Farlo, Tina, and Joey.
Before she could speak, Farlo said, “Maxwell, 23rd Precinct. This freak escaped from the Last Stop Assisted Care Facility. He’s disoriented, confused, and was carrying when I got him. I wouldn’t be surprised he is a bed wetter.”
“I am not a bed wetter,” said Joey.
The desk sergeant peered over her glasses and stared at Joey, “I learned about bed wetters at the academy. You’ve got all the signs. You’re a danger to all of us. Listen up, kid, the first step is to get out of denial. Admit you’re a bed wetter and life will get better for you.”
Joey started pointing at Farlo, “He’s not a police detective. His name is Farlo. He works for a guy named Filo. He wants to steal one of your cars.”
“You described this guy perfectly, Maxwell. He’s got all the symptoms. He should be in a secure lock down. He’s certifiable. By the way, I’m off in three hours, you want to meet for drinks at O’Rourke’s?”
Farlo glanced at the desk sergeants name plate and said, “I’d like nothing better Martinez. First, I need to requisition a car to take him back. I’ll return the car and we can go to O’Rourke’s together.”
“His name is not Maxwell. He’s lying. He’s going to steal the car. I’ll take a lie detector test. Ouch, that hurts. Let go of my arm,” screamed Joey.
“Next time it will really hurt where I’ll squeeze you. Zip it, kid,” growled Farlo. Tina barked.
“Cute dog, Maxwell. What’s her name?” said Martinez.
“Tina,” said Farlo.
“Get out of here, that’s my name. Hold on a second.” Martinez made a call. A minute later said, “Number 14 in the rear lot. It’s gassed up and running. Don’t be late, Maxwell,” Martinez winked.
Five minutes later, Farlo pulled out of the lot. Tina sat in the passenger seat. Joey was handcuffed in the rear seat.
“You’re going too far, Farlo. I deserve better,” complained Joey.
“Suck it up. You sound like you think life is fair. Fair only happens in baseball. I don’t suppose you never played sports,” growled Farlo from the front seat.” Tina barked.
“Did too. I play fantasy football.”
Farlo shook his head and pulled the black and white out of the police lot, took a left, turned on the lights and siren and turned headed toward the expressway. “Listen up, Kid. When we get there, we’re going in. Pretend you’re in cuffs. Act like you belong in their dump.”
“I’m on it,” said Joey.
“I’m worried, Tina,” said Farlo. Tina barked twice. Translated from dog language on Google Translate, it means, “me too.”
Will they rescue Harry J? Who’s Filo? Will Farlo meet Tina for drinks?
Dare To Imagine The Possibilities
IMAGINE! IMAGINE the possibilities if you and I dared to dream peace was possible. What if we dared to dream cancer was curable? What if we dared to dream everyone on planet Earth had access to good health care, clean water, and a good education? It’s ALL Possible. It’s possible if we take our imagination and transform it into constructive action. Sure there are mountain to climb, problems we haven’t foreseen; but those won’t stop us. We DARE to IMAGINE the POSSIBILITIES.
