The Don and his Dame ... the Stephinator ... Reading at KGB ... Rough Riders out the door ...

Amici:

That's the Don (Dustin) and his Dame (Madalynn) out for a night at the opera. The youngest Stella brat visited the Metropolitan Opera House this evening and attended his first unforced opera ... the greatest opera of all, Don Giovanni. The first time I forced all three Stella brats to attend an opera, two (the boys) promptly fell asleep and the third (Nicole) was hooked. All three attended one more with the phat Dad a few years back but I honestly don’t remember which opera. Charles and his bride, Leslie, came with Ann Marie and the ugly one (moi) to see La Boheme at the Amato opera house a few years ago. So, this is pretty record setting for the famiglia Stella ... one of the boys, without a gun to his head, is stepping into the world of opera (or checking it out) ... I hope the Don and his Dame have a great time (and manage to sneak in some drinks of their own to avoid the 1%er refreshment prices).

The Stephinator ... domani Stephanie Milligan is driving down from the great state of New Hampshire (which will be featured in my next crime novel after Rough Riders) to do something illicit, no doubt, in Manhattan (her license plate suggests it might be subversive) ... but then she’ll be visiting with both Potty Mouth Mae and yours truly (and I’m not telling my wife so I don’t have to clean my friggin’ writing room) ... Stephanie is a published poet and one cool woman. We look very forward to the visit.

Here’s one of Steph’s poems featured here after our summer session on Shutter Island this past summer.

An Evening of Noir Authors ... KGB BAR

March 11, 2012
7:00 pm - 9:00 pm

Scott Wolven’s stories have appeared in The Best American Mystery Stories seven years in a row, which marks the most consecutive appearances since Houghton Mifflin began the Best American series in 1915. Wolven is one of only fifteen living authors to be selected for The Best American Noir Of The Century, by guest editor James Ellroy and series editor Otto Penzler. His collection of short stories, Controlled Burn, was selected for the fiftieth anniversary list of Books To Remember by The New York Public Library. Controlled Burn was selected as Best First Fiction by Poets & Writers and received awards from Amazon and Barnes and Noble. He has been called a Master Of Noir by Library Journal and his novel False Hopes is forthcoming from Grove/Mysterious Press, along with his second collection of short stories, Hundred Proof.

Shanna McNair is the founding editor and publisher of The New Guard. Publications include Maine Magazine, Naugatuck River Review, Village Soup Times, and Fact-Simile. She was a Summer Literary Seminar 2010 fellowship recipient for work in both fiction and poetry. McNair is an award-winning journalist, works in the visual arts, and performs music. She lives in Knightville, Maine.

The London Express has called Michael Kimball “one of the finest new exponents of the classic thriller.” Kimball’s 1996 novel Undone received the Fresh Talent Award in the U.K. and rose to #4 on the London Times’ bestseller list. Together with Mouth to Mouth, Green Girls, and Firewater Pond, Kimball’s novels have been translated into 13 languages and read worldwide. Stage plays include Ghosts of Ocean House, nominated for the 2007 Edgar Award by the Mystery Writers of America, and The Secret of Comedy, recently seen at the Abingdon Theatre. “The best suspense stories are the ones that creep up on you, breathe on your neck and jump back into the shadows when you turn around. Michael Kimball plays that game with unnerving skill.” – New York Times Review of Books

From Publishers Weekly ... it takes a finely tuned ear to write dialogue that rings true, and Charlie Stella (Charlie Opera, etc.) has it. With his hapless crooks and wry humor, he belongs in line behind Elmore Leonard and Donald E. Westlake. Stella remains a master of creating complex and believable characters. Stella has quickly become one of crime fiction’s leading lights. His latest novel, Johnny Porno, is available from Stark House.

About the Series: KGB Bar Sunday Night Fiction

The KGB Bar Sunday Night Fiction showcases the finest in contemporary fiction from new and emerging writers.

Rough Riders is officially out the door and the focus turns to Jimmy Mangino (a ten year sequel to Jimmy Bench-Press) ... Jimmy has finished his 10 years sentence for a RICO charge and is sent to an island off the coast of New Hampshire to clip a former mobster in the witness protection program (hiding in an MFA program?) ... oy vey ... isn’t anything sacred?

—Knucks

Come on, how can we not do this ... I used one of my favorite exchanges between the Commendatore and DG as the epigraph for Eddie’s World. The Commendatore tells DG to repent and DG tells him where to shove it (so to speak) ...

Pentiti, cangia vita: E l’ultimo momento!
Repent, change your life: Your final moment has come!

- Il Commendatore

Recognize the overture?

Tim Bemis (SNHU MFA Graduate) ... Linsanity ... the trees are the right height ... let’s make babies ... spin Masters ... my kind of Goosebumps ...

Amici:

Tim Bemis is a recent graduate of the SNHU MFA program. A hell of a talented writer with as diverse a background in all things cool as it gets. Tim has been published in literary reviews and is part of several different projects, including running a music blog (with a couple of his friends) that focuses on mostly underground bands around the world.

Tim’s excellent work has been published in the following:

Lost On Route 66: Tales From The Mother Road

Tacenda Literary Magazine

Henniker Review

A couple of his music projects are right here:

Cowboys Are Indians

Baluga

At the graduation ceremony, Richard Adams Carey gave Tim’s commencement speech. Here it is:

In Midnight Train, fifteen-year-old Clark Lapine moves with his family to a small town in Connecticut where an alleged miracle has recently occurred, and where the local priest has fashioned something like a religious theocracy. Clark’s mother yearns to be accepted here, his father not at all. Clark falls in with some kids from the wrong side of the tracks, boys whose preference for secularism and personal liberty blurs into episodes of cruelty and criminal behavior. Clark finds himself in a spider’s web of tangled loyalties, a series of dilemmas that come to a life-altering head one night as an outbound freight approaches.

Tim Bemis’s narrative of those dilemmas builds into a stirring tour de force of suspense writing. Tim began this journey with just a blank page, but also plenty of discipline, energy, and a real writer’s commitment to get better, to write truer, deeper, and more piercingly. Those are the qualities that have combined to make Midnight Train well worth the trip.

Congrats to Tim!

And that Carey fella, well, I recently purchased a book of his, Raven’s Children, (and I can’t wait to read it), based on a reading he did from his work in progress (Colebrook Murders) this past semester (truly gripping and heartfelt), a horrific story about the incredible damage one madman inflicted on entire communities after he killed four people (two state troopers, an attorney/part-time judge and a newspaper editor) and fled in one of the bullet riddled police cruisers. Amici, the story doesn’t end there (nor does the violence) and it is an intriguing read I don’t want to ruin with newspaper article links (so you's'll have to do that on your own). I’ll wait for Rick’s book and take it from there. What Rick read at our winter residence was absolutely wonderful, tragic and intriguing.

Linsanity!

I’ll say this, I haven’t watched this many NBA games since the Knicks played the Michael Jordan Bulls back in the day. Now I look for them almost every night. I’ve watched the last 3 games and they were friggin’ GREAT. How can you not root for this kid? Humble, smart, an apparently decent human being ... and he hustles ALL THE TIME.

Madison Square Garden’s friggin’ stock even rose with this kid’s play. Maybe HE should be PRESIDENT! You go Lin!

I only wish they made #17 Knicks jerseys in my tent size ...

Okay, speaking of Presidents ... it’s on to the state of our 2012 Presidential Fiasco Election ... where in any given state, the trees may be just the right height ...

Can this guy be anymore disingenuous? Probably, but we’ll have to wait for his next attempt to be human along the ever entertaining (and depressing) campaign trail.

And let’s not forget Mr. Santorum ... a guy who hates big government so much, he’d like to legislate our bedrooms ... anti-gay marriage, anti-conception, pretty much anti-21st century, Santorum is appealing to die-hard conservatives for that big chance to fall on his sword (martyr that he appears to be) ... although I do wonder how he feels about the pedophile Cardinal (Law from Boston) still being sheltered in the Vatican to escape justice. Can somebody ask him already?

He’s not a believer in birth control ... let’s everybody make great big families we can’t afford instead! Whoopee!

And the alternative to the above sideshow?

MSNBC Spin Masters … if you listen to the carnival barkers over at MSNBC, you’d think the country was SAVED and RESAVED; that THE ONE is, in fact, THE ONE (messiah, grand high exalted mystic ruler, big kahuna … you name it). Nobody there seems much interested in asking about how the American worker will ever replace the lost benefits/cost of living raises, etc. over the next several years (considering they’ve been getting steadily hammered into oblivion (and poverty) while he held hands with Wall Street (somebody say Goldman Sachs?). Nope, if you watch MSNBC, they’re crowning President Fredo an FDR II.

Really?

Wall Street Surges under Obama

From the above link: The largest banks are larger than they were when Obama took office and are nearing the level of profits they were making before the depths of the financial crisis in 2008, according to government data.

Wall Street firms — independent companies and the securities-trading arms of banks — are doing even better. They earned more in the first 21 / 2 years of the Obama administration than they did during the eight years of the George W. Bush administration, industry data show.

One thing for certain about Obama is this: Nobody can call him spineless anymore. Here’s a man who out and out turned his back on the Wisconsin Public Workers Union, then found the balls to request union support while campaigning with Master Lock. Now, I’m happy to see Master Lock is returning jobs to America and I sure hope and hell it isn’t because of some extra special (Solyndra-like) deal made with the white house, but the bottom line is this president made a very passionate speech in 2007 regarding workers rights to collectively bargain, then did an invisible man routine when Wisconsin public workers were being stripped of those very same rights (which is one reason why TK classifies Obama’s overall effect on labor in the U.S. as a 50-100 year setback). So, there you go … two sides of the same coin; Republicans who tell you shut up and be happy IF you have a job and Democrats who turn their back on you as soon as they have to put up or shut up ... and we all know what Obama did, right? Well, just in case yous don’t remember (you union folk):

Shoes for Obama



—Knucks

For Mr. Santorum, since he too is a bit of a religious zealot, it seems to us. So was Scarpia ... and here's one of the best Te Deum’s of all (I get goose bumps every single time I watch this) ... Bryn Terfel ... with the most erotic lyric in all of opera (sung in a church): Tosca, you make me forget God ...

Just remember, Rick, Tosca eventually guts him like a fish. I’m just sayin’ ...

Sherry Meeks - A Georgia Peach ... The Last Kiss (L’ultimo Baccio) ... Fiat ... The Super Bowl ... Bradying & music to Brady by ...

Amici:

Continuing our recent Southern New Hampshire University MFA graduates feature, today is Sherry’s day (the doll on the boat above). This Georgia Peach is s sweetheart and one terrific writer. Sherry is someone everyone loves. Her last semester was my first in the program. We and a few others shared the same mentor, Mitch Wieland. Below is a brief bio of our Peach and the words of Mitch Wieland at Sherry’s graduation.

Sherry Meeks is a recent graduate of Southern New Hampshire University’s M.F.A. in Fiction program. Sherry is a native of Georgia and spends her time writing chapters of novels, short stories, and the occasional poem. She also reads books of friends and strangers, queries agents for her novel Reading Tambri, currently applies for teaching positions, spends time with her dogs, Abby and Skye, teaches group fitness to avoid the effects of the butt in chair syndrome that plagues writers, and braves her part of the south’s seven month-a-year heat.

Sherry has two pups and here they are:

Mitch’s words at Sherry’s graduation:

Reading Tambri is a haunting exploration of the aftermath of losing a child. Sherry’s stories have true emotional depth and staying power. Over the course of this fine book, our central protagonist emerges as a psychologically complex character, a woman who struggles to hold crushing grief at bay.

Sherry’s prose is strong and sharp. Her scene work is excellent and highly effective. Throughout the stories there is a keen intelligence at work, resulting in smart and subtle observations about the nature of relationships. Sherry is highly adept at examining the complicated bonds between parents and their children, wives and husbands, and lifelong friends.

Reading Tambri covers the arc of a woman’s grief, but also deals with our sense of getting older, of where we are in life and where we want to be. It ends on a breathtaking note of hope and possibility.

Mitch Wieland

Full Professor of English

Editor of the Idaho Review

Congrats to our Peach, Sherry Meeks!

L’Ultimo Bacio ... This one was hilarious. Netflix has the subtitles so don’t be afraid ... and definitely see this version before the American remake. Hilarious.

From IMDB: Carlo's life is thrown into a tailspin when his longtime girlfriend Giulia announces she's pregnant. As Carlo faces up to his anxieties about adulthood, his buddies Paolo, Adriano and Alberto reluctantly grapple with their own responsibilities.

Much has been said about the Fiat commercial during the Super Bowl ... let’s face it, the car was friggin’ beautiful. It left me feeling guilty for buying a friggin’ Honda the week before the game. All I could think about since seeing that commercial was Fiat, Fiat, Fiat ... and a few of yous (the Doc, of course) have offered “big money” to see me get inside a Fiat Abarth. The wife, once she saw the commercial, said, “I’ll stuff your ashes in a Fiat, how’s that?”

Momma mia ... what a car!

And here’s some more about that very hot car (click on the link, amici ... trust me on this one).

Like I said, what a friggin’ car!

Super Bowl Thoughts ... it was a good game that could’ve went any number of ways any number of times; the Giant’s holding penalty that killed a drive that might’ve triggered a blowout; the Giant fumbles they recovered; the non-pass interference call against the Cheatriots, and, last but not least, the Welker-Branch-Hernandez drops. I was happy when Hernandez dropped his pass because of that stupid TD celebration he did earlier in the game (that required Navy flagmen to figure out WTF he was doing). I hope he remembered that little show when he dropped his last pass (the highlight reel Lombardi would’ve shoved down this throat).

What I didn’t like about the game was the “let them score” play. I also didn’t appreciate Chris Collinsworth’s take on it: “That’s a misake.”

Really? You don’t score because you assume Tom Brady is going to drive the length of the field and score a TD with 1:25 on the clock? You don’t score a TD so you can take your shot on a much riskier field goal? They’re giving you 6 points (so you can practice a field goal for next season on the extra point) and will need a TD themselves to win, but you’re supposed to not score? Bullshit. You score (as the Giants did). It was then incumbent upon the Cheatriots to score a TD (not so easy, as we saw).

And it’s not like teams haven’t blown a game or two with fumbles.

Imagine playing defense until the game is ACTUALLY OVER ... well, it just goes to show you how much confidence Belichik had in his defense after all ... and wasn’t it wonderful to see that each and every statistic machine went down to teams with defenses. Rodgers and the high flying Packer offense, defeated by the Moonachie Blue team defense ... Drew Brees and his record setting season, knocked out by the 49’er excellent defense ... and then finally (after the best game of the playoffs, Moonachie Blue v. San Fran), we all got to watch Bradying as the Brady stat machine scored all of 17 points when it counted most.

And then there was Gisele ...

“Eli owns your husband!” the heckler yelled.

"You are supposed to catch the ball when you're supposed to catch the ball," Giselle said. "My husband cannot fucking throw the ball and catch the ball at the same time."

A super model standing by her man or a spoiled brat making excuses for her husband by throwing his teammates under the bus?  Yous make the decision. I just wonder if she meant the interception he threw or the couple of passes that were batted down at the line of scrimmage.

At least Tom gave us something new with his latest Super Bowl LOSS ... Bradying.

Think he’s upset because he didn’t deliver on “Nobody beats Belichik and Brady two, three times in a row" ... or was it because he didn’t marry the Fiat girl?

— Knucks

As Mr. Brady does his thing (Bradying) ... we thought this music appropriate for him to contemplate his mistakes in life ...

Some a’yous will remember this wonderful scene from Shawshank Redemption ... same music, different boids singing it ...

Wendie Leweck ... Movies ... Romney=Putz ... Super Bowl ... a new Stellamobile ... Tosco, non la notte scorsa (no Tosca last night) ...

Amici:

The 3rd featured graduate of Southern New Hampshire University’s MFA program is Wendie Leweck. She is a proud New Hampshire native. She owns Exeter- based Spotlight Publicity, a boutique publicity firm, which specializes in working with authors and other artists.

Wendie holds a Bachelor’s degree in Organizational Business Management from Daniel Webster College. She has recently graduated from Southern New Hampshire University with an MFA in Fine Arts, Fiction. She has penned two novels and is an internationally published writer, having written articles for Antiques and Collecting Magazine, Millionaire Magazine, LA Splash(Online Entertainment News) Focus Magazine (e- magazine), and numerous other publications.

Wendie has co-owned two vintage-automobile restoration companies, both in California, where she oversaw marketing and publicity resulting in numerous international feature publications.

Wendie has volunteered for many years for numerous local, national, and international charities including Service Link NH, a state-wide charitable organization for seniors; Great Bay Services NH for disabled adults; the Los Angeles County High School for the Arts Program to Sustain the Arts; the World Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals; Mustard Seed Organization International, and the Exeter Theater Company. She is currently working to build a charter high school for the arts in the seacoast area of New Hampshire.

From Katie Towler:

Wendie Leweck knew she wanted to write about a teenage girl. She knew that this girl was going to struggle with issues of identity and that she played the guitar, but this was about all Wendie had to go on when she began writing her novel, Second Chances. I had the good fortune to work with Wendie in her second semester and again in her final semester, and to see just how far she brought the original impetus for her book. Tenacious and determined in honing her characters and their story, Wendie has crafted a moving and compelling young adult novel. Her teenage protagonist Jo, brought to life with vivid force in these pages, comes to understand the true nature of her family and the relationships that have forged and defined her. At the end of her journey, Jo has made multiple discoveries – most importantly, what it means to forgive and to trust– and she has learned to love Vermont, a place not easy for a Southern girl to love. Wendie’s powerful rendering of a small town, the winter landscape, a complex cast of supporting characters, and a teenage girl’s search for the truth make this a book that will resonate with readers of all ages. Congratulations, Wendie.

Si, congratulations to the Wendinator and all the graduates this winter residency.

Trust ... a movie every FAMILY should see ... Friends aside, we’re David Schwimmer fans at casa stella (going back to his role in Band of Brothers et al) ... and although the boss knew of his directing, the ugly one (moi) didn’t. So it was a very pleasant surprise when we chose the movie Trust last week. This is a painful movie to watch (both of us cringed several times) and the double ending (what I’m calling it) was superb—absolutely masterful. I was sitting there angry; both Ann Marie and I were as emotional as we get ... and truth be told, I suspect I would have been guilty (for lack of a more appropriate word) of everything the Clive Owen (the father) did and felt throughout the movie, while Ann Marie would have been as smart and strong as Catherine Keener (the mother). Liana Liberato was truly wonderful as the girl lured into an Internet sexual assault by a professional predator.

I tip my hat to Schwimmer and the amazing cast he put together for this film. Like American History X, Trust is something every family should watch and watch it together. In Charlie world, both movies would have been required viewing throughout the land. So spoke Zarathustra (who is directly akin to the Chuckababe).

Interview with the director about the movie here.

Men Who Stare at Goats ... a great cast and much funnier than either the wife or I had thought it might be, we did laugh out loud (LOL for yous unfamiliar with the mother tongue) quite a few times. Or maybe we just needed a laugh.

A recent death in the family precluded us from going to the opera last night. We had tickets for a Princeton McCarter theatre production of Tosca, something we’ve both seen at the MET several times, but we turned the tickets over to another opera lover at one of our jobs and let the emotions of family tragedy run their course. One of Ann Marie’s nieces, a very young woman and mother of three (an 8 year old and 4 year old twins) passed from cancer Thursday; a brutal reminder of how unfair life can often be.

Romney isn’t concerned about the poor. Yeah, no shit. Neither are either of the two parties of choice ... they’re all too busy bending over for the money that owns them ... or why do you think Wall Street has had record profits while the rest of the country has paid the price? And as far as Romney’s great concern for the middle class ... somebody smack that used car salesman in the face already ... Hello, moron, more than a year ago 28% of Americans fell OUT OF THE MIDDLE CLASS INTO POVERTY ... in other words, there is NO MIDDLE CLASS ANYMORE. Read this ...

What a putz.

Super Bowl ... they’re playing it inside the gymnasium again (I hate that shit) and although the Giants should continue to give Tom Brady nightmares for life, anything can happen ... therefore, this one may be too close to call.

NOT!

The Moonachie Blue Team in a wipeout, 41-26 (with most of the Cheatriot scoring coming late). I have the G-men in an office pool for the 1 in 41 and the Cheatriots with the 6 in the 26.

I’ve been driving the new Stellamobile back and forth to work this past week. A new Honda has replaced the hold Honda ... the neat feature in this pretty much stripped down Accord is I can play my Ipod ... so driving to and from the last few days, it was a couple of my favorites from Tosca blasting away.

Note: The Wikipedia translations are pretty friggin' fugazy, but it'll give you an idea ...

Recondita Armonia ...


Pass me the colors...

Concealed harmony of contrasting beauties!
Floria, my ardent lover, is dark haired.
And you, unknown beauty, crowned with blond hair,
You have blue eyes,
Tosca has black eyes!

Art, in its mysterious way,
blends the contrasting beauties together...
But while I'm painting her,
My only thought,
My only thought is of you,
Tosca, it is of you!


E lucevan le stelle ...


When the stars were brightly shining ...
And faint perfumes the air pervaded,
Creaked the gate of the garden ...
And footstep its precincts invaded ...
'Twas hers, the fragant creature.
In her soft arms she clasped me..

With sweetest kisses, tenderest caresses,
A thing of beauty, of matchless symmetry in form and feature!
My dream of love is now disspelled forever.
I lived uncaring and now I die despairing!
Alas I die despairing!
And never was life so dear to me, no never,
So dear, no never!

Jerri, Jerri, Jerri ... the candidates and Castro ...

Amici:

From fear of scaring most of yous away with a political rant or two dozen, we’re starting the next several posts with congratulatory pieces for the SNHU MFA graduates this past residency. Last week we presented Kelly Stone Gamble. This week it’s Jerri Hickox Clayton, a wonderful woman and writer. TK excuses her loyalty to that team from Foxboro ... because we at TK love Jerri ...

Jerri’s tribute was given by the director of our program, Diane Les Becquets:

Four prepositions: (For, From, Through, and To): In Salinger’s “Catcher in the Rye,” Holden Caulfied says, “I don’t even know what I was running for.” For these past two semesters, I have had the delight of working with Jerri Clayton, who served as our residency GA. Jerri is a runner. She has run through woods, up mountains, down dark icy streets, and she has run marathons, including the Boston marathon. In the beginning, perhaps she didn’t always know “what she was running for.” In her memoir, “In the Long Run,” she began a journey not only to complete a manuscript but also to cross a more significant and personal finish line. Writing her memoir became her own marathon for understanding. Understanding what she had been running for, and understanding what she had been running to. She’d spent her life running from all that she feared, from the past, from a suicidal father, a failed marriage, from mental illness, and from herself. She’d run through depression and fear and anger and addictions, inclement weather and inclement emotions. And she learned that “Sometimes all the training in the world cannot make race day a success. In the Long Run, Jerri discovers the gift of running for others, finding strength in the team. “We finished her mile. We reached her goal.” Her writing and her running have been and are a metaphor for her life. Jerri’s writing is precise, metaphoric, honest and raw, immersing the reader in the prose and the story. I could feel every word.

And here are Jerri’s words ...

Faculty, staff, graduates, alumni, students, family and friends – good evening. It is an honor and privilege to represent the winter graduating class of 2012. Sophia, Wendie, Vegas, Georgia, Little Daddy,

I need to first let you know this is not an official communication. For official graduation speech communication please contact Lisa Allen. I will, however, be giving this speech from the perspective of the fish.

I would like to start by sharing a quote from our own Craig Childs.

“I cannot assume we all operate in the same way, but I imagine you have felt fear with writing, a sensation such as looking at an enormous landscape, then facing the small size of your own body. I am feeling it today, my voice crooked and cracking. Why would I dare write? What audacity to put down words and say my story matters. Have you felt that before? If so, here is my advice for all of us. Keep going. Our doubt does not matter. We put letters on pages. We make sentences, chapters. It is not our business what value our own words carry. We must. I have carried this quote because it gives me validation as a writer, as this program validates each and every one of you.”

While many yearn for writing to be a fulltime job and the bread and butter of our lives, that is not the norm. We juggle. We struggle. We write. And while our fulltime jobs may or may not be in the realm of writing, we are, indeed, all writers. Putting words on paper is what we do. What happens after that is out of our control, our common bond is each of us has a story to tell, and the desire to tell it. Being in this program validates that choice. We are privileged to have a group of faculty as vast as our own ideas to teach and guide us to be the best writers we can be. While I began this program feeling that my diploma would be the end of the journey—I drank the kool aid along the way---and realized it is only the beginning. When our cohort started, the motto was “Go write your book” Diane, changed that, to Go Write your Books. That next little idea needs to put down on paper. We leave with not only a diploma, but also the validation to keep on writing.

None of the graduating class had the luxury of this program being their sole focus. Ahhhhh, if only, but life gets in the way. We learn to write in our heads and eventually get those thoughts on paper. We write within our daily routine every single day. Our heads are swimming with thoughts and ideas that must be jotted down. Within each of us are stories.

In this program, we are given deadlines. I love when the graduates told me, “I miss the deadlines.” I thought, Yes, they’re easy to miss when you don’t’ have them. But honestly, students, embrace each deadline, and embrace your peers. Embrace the bubble. Being in this incredible MFA bubble allows you to flourish. This program allows you to come together for residencies twice a year. Cherish those residencies. Take the time to connect with all the faculty and students. Do what we fondly refer to as subgrouping. Subgrouping—where crock of porks and snuggling rats is common. Pirate outings and knitting circles constitute a subgroup. Subgroups allow you to share your writing. Pass revisions and ideas, and if you’re lucky and your cohort is as strong as those before you, this goes on long after you leave this grand hotel. The magic of subgrouping brought a man, we call Pantless Jack and a girl named Skinny Chick to life. There were songs written (and sung...) about Purple Shirt Guy. And while subgrouping a legend was born, a man named Bobby Sox, who will forever validate us as storytellers.

While there are no guarantees what will happen with these degrees, one thing is guaranteed, you will have the opportunity to form bonds with faculty and students alike that will continue to validate you as a writer.

As I stand before my cohort, my friends, and we have reached our goal I will borrow from Ralph Waldo Emerson—life is a journey, not a destination. Congratulations, Happy Trails, Best of luck on your continued journey. Write On and Peace out.

Me (the ugly one) again, amici. Is Jerri cool or what?

Now for the POLITICS of our nation ... madonna mia.

At the outset, let us at TK state that if Ron Paul wasn’t so in love with the free market system, we’d be on his bandwagon pronto. But he is, so we won’t be on his bandwagon. We’re with him on civil liberties and foreign policy across the board ... in the meantime, here’s some of what we (most of yous, not TK) seem to take seriously enough to actually vote for ... our/your presidential choices ... some GOP numbnuts and our President (Fredo Corleone) ... oy-friggin-vey.

The other night, Mitt Romney defended his “blind trusts” by claiming he’s blind to where the money is invested. Hmmm, apparently he attacked drunken Ted Kennedy on the same issue of blind trusts back in the day. Could he be flip-flopping again?

Jon Stewart had some fun with the other top GOP hopeful, Newt Gingrich ...

The Daily Show
Get More: Daily Show Full Episodes,Political Humor & Satire Blog,The Daily Show on Facebook

Ron Paul taking apart Rick Santorum’s anxiousness to go to war with Iran.

And then there’s our fearless leader ... fearless about what he said in the State of the Union the other night, that’s for sure. Here’s a guy who took more money from Wall Street in 2008 than any candidate in history ... a guy who surrounded himself with Goldman Sachs people (and didn’t Goldman do well after they helped bankrupt the country?) ... a guy who appointed Jeff Imelt his friggin' Job Czar a week before GE sent 5,000 jobs to China. I heard him mention outsourcing in his speech the other night and nearly upchucked my Chivas ... and then there was his “Don’t bash teachers” line ... and that reminded me of his disappearing act last year when Wisconsin vilified teachers and public worker unions. Fredo forgot his campaign pledge to walk the picket line and although he may be fortunate the GOP can’t show this video to his shame, we at TK don’t understand why the media has yet to take him to task on this issue. So, here it is, a little reminder for all those in unions on your way to the voting booth come November.

Finally, the remaining clown acts (except for Ron Paul) that are the GOP field of candidates seemed anxious to one-up each other on where Fidel Castro should go when he passes (Gingrich got to hell first, but then Romney double-helled him the next day while campaigning). And here’s what Fidel (or, if you prefer, Mr. Castro) had to say about that:

"The selection of a Republican candidate for the presidency of this globalized and expansive empire is — and I mean this seriously — the greatest competition of idiocy and ignorance that has ever been," said the retired Cuban leader, who has dueled with 11 U.S. administrations since his 1959 revolution.

Say what you want about the guy ... he nailed it.

—Knucks

Swing baby, swing ...

Ides of March ... from Tebow to Newt ... DEFENSE ... the Kellinator ...

Amici:

The Ides of March ... The boss and I were riveted to our seats watching this baby unfold. Each of us made guesses as to what would happen next; sometimes right, sometimes wrong, both hoping for the better angels of human nature to show up sooner or later. Romantics we are, the both of us ... or maybe we’re just suckers. The Gosling character learned fast and never looked back, although that open ending of Clooney’s left all kinds of possibilities (we continue to hope). We figure it was an accurate enough portrayal of the political world; how to lose a soul. The scene toward the end when Evan Rachel Wood committed suicide and the Gosling character was teary-eyed until he spotted her phone was wonderful, but even more so was the next scene as the camera followed a new intern hauling coffees. Clooney was at the top of his game on both sides of the camera. He had us wanting him to be President there for a while ...

Power corrupts ... absolute power corrupts absolutely ... and this movie was a damn fine reminder.

Philip Seymour Hoffman and Paul Giamatti were excellent, as both always are. It was an excellent pay-per-view choice this fine snowy morning. Highly recommended.

Gingrich’s smack down of John King and CNN was pretty exciting to watch. As much as both Stella’s loath the Pillsbury Doughboy (my wife's nickname for Gingrich), we did enjoy his bashing of King for that inane “debate” opener.

Talk about a media agenda running afoul of its intent? In a week that saw TEBOW's blessing fade, the darkside won a big one, thanks to CNN and John King (as they put Gingrich back on the map, maybe to stay). In the national sideshow we call election day, could either party put up people more lame? From the GOP, either a used car salesman so uncomfortable in his own shoes, he can’t prepare himself for a question he knew was coming 6 weeks ago, orrrrrrrrrrrrr an absolutely despicable human being. And from the Dems, it’ll be the incumbent incompetent, responsible for setting labor back 50-100 years. I can hardly wait (sarcasm intended). Still, the proven incompetent sure does do a damn good Al Green impression. My mother loves Al Green. I love Al Green. Even my old partner from back in the day (when I’d drive his gigantic boat of a Fleetwood around the city) loved Al Green. How can you not vote for Al Green when the alternative is a bumbling fool of a used car salesman or Mr. Despicable?

And give Obama this much, the guy has the right charisma for TV—and one hell of a smile.  And he does impersonations.

How Obama will do versus Gingrich in debates will at least be entertaining. My guess is Newt will do a number on him, but he’s still Newt and most people outside his rank and file will ignore him come election day ... because, well, he’s Newt Gingrich.

One of the two big games tomorrow feature the only remaining statistic machine (New England Cheatriots) vs. one of the best defenses in all of football (The Baltimore Wes Cravens) ... last week Drew Brees and Mr. Rodgers (two record setters) went down ugly when DEFENSES ruled the day. I can’t help but be reminded how our statistic machine in Super Bowl 25 went down to a superior Moonachie Blue defense (not to mention our kicker choked). I always prefer the kind of game I expect in San Fran domani ... the 49’ers and Moonachie Blue team should be a head banger start to finish. I’ll be rooting for a 49’er or Moonachie Blue vs. Wes Craven Super Bowl, but I’m thinking Joe Flacco may preclude those particular scenarios ... but wouldn’t it be cool if ALL the record setters went down in flames one more time?

And come on, wouldn’t a Harbaugh brother rematch be the coolest thing?

On a much brighter and happier note, here’s recent SNHU graduate, Kelly Stone Gamble (one of the graduate babes who came to my room for coffee at 4:30 a.m.—Jerri Hickox Clayton & Beth Ann Garland were the other two). Here’s the Kellinator reading from her exciting historical novel, Ragtown. Check out Kelly at her blog here. As her final mentor, Craig Childs (the Desert Father) put it at the graduation ceremony in his opening remarks, Kelly Stone Gamble kicks ass.

Check out this bio (not to shabby): Kelly Stone Gamble’s work has appeared in a variety of publications including:

Alive Magazine

Family Fun

Family Digest

Family Digest Baby

Gay Today

Ladybug

Message Magazine

Chicken Soup for the Soul

Her fiction has won awards from Writers Weekly, Writers Courtyard, Women on Writing and the Ground Zero Literary Project.

She has a Bachelor of Arts in the Integrated Studies of History and Business Administration from Nevada State College, a Master of Arts in Humanities from California State University and a Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing from Southern New Hampshire University. She resides in the Las Vegas area.

Temporary Knucksline is going to try and find a reading from each of the SNHU winter graduates for posts here so anybody with the goods (videos, etc.), send them along.

—Knucks

Join the maestro's Brindisi (the drinking song) and raise a glass to the Kellinator ...

Book Reviews: The Suburbs of Heaven ... El Gavilan ... A Sam McCain Two-ffer and Ciao, Francesca ...

Amici:

The Suburbs of Heaven, Merle Drown

Now Comes Jim ... is the refrain at the end of this wonderful book about a New Hampshire family that can’t get out of its own way. Down on their collective luck and unable to communicate with one another clearly enough to keep from hurting one another, they each grieve in their own way the tragic loss of a young daughter/sister (the one they had the most faith in). This is a tale of a family named Hutchins (not Hutchinson). It is at times hilarious (with dialogue so genuine it spits), shocking, sad and always poignant. The Hutchins family faces the same problems many of us face, except in much larger doses and all at once.

Jim and Pauline are the parents of Gregory, Lisa, Tom and Elizabeth (Elizabeth is the daughter they grieve). Jim’s sister Helen was married to Emory (who may or may not have shoved Helen down the basement stairs and killed her for insurance money). Emory is living high on the hog every since, except he can’t get it up. Pauline favors Emory (and had lied about her sister-in-law’s fall to the police for him) because she misunderstands her husband’s grief and because Emory pays attention to her and can make her laugh. She occasionally dances for him ... in the buff ... but Emory remains impotent and can only watch Pauline the way he can only watch pornos (powerless to do any damage).

One problem is Jim is aware of Pauline’s fondness for Emory and Emory seems to relish rubbing it in Jim’s face. Jim fixes cars for one guy and is a handy man to another more wealthy individual he’s come to love in his own way. Jim is always working and never getting anywhere. The IRS won’t leave him alone, nor will the troubles that seem to plague his family with unending regularity. Gregory, his oldest, has a snake living in his brain and voices telling him to kill his sworn enemies (enemies that include his mother, Emory, his brother Tommy and pretty much anyone who runs afoul of his good intentions). When Gregory spies his mom dancing for Emory, he steals a videotape of a prior performance and the trouble escalates. Tommy is a wildcat and a father who can’t stop himself from getting into it (or into a girl a bit under the lawful age). He’s got a wife (Penny, Jim has nicknamed Squatty Body) he doesn’t seem to mind sharing with his cousin Scooter (Emory’s kid) when he isn’t dangling her out a window by her ankles. Lisa, Jim and Pauline’s daughter, is married to Fesmire (Jim’s descriptions of this guy alone make the book worth its weight in gold), a devout lazy-boned SOB who can justify anything that will keep him from working for a living. There are more characters (BB Eyes—the law; Malcolm—the wealthy guy Jim sometimes works for and gets a few hundred laughs over; Dumont—an over-zealous cop) and a few others who inhabit these raucous suburbs of doom.

Told through the individual points of view of each family member, the stakes are greatly raised for the reader as we come to know, see and understand how they perceive all that goes on around them. One house get bulldozed, then burned. Another explodes. Brothers get put away in different institutions. One brother has his crotch tarred, the other finally finds solace in medications while their sister (Lisa) learns to rid herself of her abusive and reprehensible husband (Leo Fesmire). Jim and Pauline struggle to survive the loss of a child the best they know how, except neither is communicating with the other. The distance they create between one another seems impossible to breach.

This is a terrific novel that will have you laughing out loud when you aren’t shaking your head in frustration or choking with sympathy for this family seemingly condemned to bad luck and worse decisions.

Buy the The Suburbs of Heaven here.

Read the New York Times review here (with a link to the first chapter—read it and get hooked).

Why an MFA?

A few people have asked me why, at age 55, I decided to return to school and/or pursue literary fiction. It’s a pretty simple question to answer. After a failed attempt or two at crime novels in my early 20’s, I started writing plays that focused on relationships, addictions and all the messes people make of their lives. Then I was detoured for various reasons to a street life that permitted me to sow some wild oats while making a mess of my family. When I finally settled down with a woman unimpressed with the stupidness my life had become, I returned to writing and was well stocked with street knowledge. Writing what I knew and ignoring what I’d suppressed, especially with the influence of the George V. Higgins masterpiece, The Friends of Eddie Coyle, I turned to crime fiction. I continue to write crime fiction and suspect I always will, but a greater desire, one I may never conquer in publishable form, is literary fiction; a return to writing about relationships and the struggles all of us are engaged in as we try to co-exist.  That bolded section in the last line is from a much better writer than myself, Mitch Wieland.

The book reviewed above (The Suburbs of Heaven) is another reason. Because this is the kind of writing I most admire and always want to read. At 55, what the hell do I have to lose following my heart? The heart is what made me chase my wife and that pursuit has been a winner since day one.

That’s why I’m in an MFA program this late in life ... because the worse I can do is learn.

El Gavilan, Craig McDonald

Border issues were never dealt with so fairly as in this new page turner from Craig McDonald. County Sheriff Able Hawk (Hawk is "Gavilan" in Spanish), is a man of principle willing to bend the law enough to set things right. Justice is foremost on his mind, especially when it comes to family and those he feels compelled to protect—the legal immigrants of the fictional Ohio town, New Austin. When a legal immigrant woman (Thalia Ruiz) he’s been protecting since her husband was killed in an explosion winds up raped and murdered and left in a ditch, the Hawk seeks justice for her with extreme prejudice.

Tell Lyon is the new chief of police in the same town and although competitive police departments aren’t supposed to get along, Tell and Able have similar tastes in justice. Lyon’s wife and daughter were murdered in a home firebombing by a Mexican gang when he worked border patrol in California. Now he meets a woman 15 years his junior, Patricia Maldonado, on her way out of a bad relationship with a local journalist and all around shit, Shawn O'Hara.

No spoilers here, but violence ensues when a neighboring county corrupt sheriff becomes the focus of the investigation into the murder of Thalia Ruiz, El Gavilan’s unofficial daughter, so to speak. The Hawk also has a grandson in love with a Mexican illegal and that’s an entire other subplot that intensifies all that happens in this exciting thriller. Short chapters (woven between present day action) provide the backstory for Thalia and her family, Able and his, as well as Tell and his family.

At a time of political polarization over issues great and small, it is nice to read a fair accounting of our southern immigration problem as told from all sides. El Gavilan is yet another winner from one of my favorite crime authors. El Gavilan is all about justice and how sometimes it requires what men hold in their hearts rather than their heads.

Buy El Gavilan here.

An Ed Gorman’s two-ffer ...

Last week a friend asked a favor of me for Ed Gorman. Here is some of his email to me:

The Day the Music Died and Wake Up Little Susie together in one edition for the first time. The new edition is called The Original Sam McCain Mysteries. As you may know these are wonderful mystery novels filled with 1950s nostalgia and dry humor. Initially this product will be available only as an ebook. The print version will be released about two weeks later. Genius Publishing will also be releasing each of these books individually over the next few weeks as both ebooks and in print.

We could use your support. Would you be willing to post/tweet a message to your followers about this wonderful new book? Facebook, blog, every bit helps.

As we all know, Ed has done a lot for the genre going back decades. Apart from co-founding and running Mystery Scene Magazine for many years, he has personally given a start to, assisted, and befriended countless crime, mystery, and horror authors. Also, along the way, Ed Gorman has also written some superb novels. These Sam McCain books are fine examples.

Me again, amici: I have a tweet account I’ve used once in my life and doubt I’ll ever use again, but I do have this dopey blog and if there’s anybody around who owes ED GORMAN a returned favor (or a hundred), it’s me. Those of you who read the intro to Johnny Porno will know why: Ed saved me from crime writing oblivion after my breakup with my previous publisher by suggesting me to Greg Shepherd at Stark House Press ... and here I be, the first original print for Stark House Press). This after he offered to make peace between me and my prior publisher, to which I answered (with my typical chip on my shoulder response): "I’d rather stay out of the writing business than go back there."

I love the Sam McCain novels and have reviewed a couple here (Bad Moon Rising) and here (Ticket to Ride). These novels are loaded with nostalgia those of yous my age (slightly younger or older) will smile from ear to ear reading.

The other thing about Ed Gorman, aside from his legendary writing career, he’s one of the most gracious men on this planet.

On a sad note, a co-worker at the Jersey law firm where I work, Francis, left us Friday (no, no, she didn't pass on, her temp assignment ended) ... but we’re all hoping she’ll be back. Francis sat behind me at work (not an easy thing to put up with—me) and told me of her husband Joe’s great weight loss with weight watchers (why I’m doing it). Apparently she gets up at 3:30 in the morning (just like me) and then cooks her husband’s weight watcher meals (I drink coffee, try to write and smoke my pipe). I thought, hell, Frances, why not invite me over some early morning to sample the grub? She never did answer ... but we’re all (at work) planning to visit her one day when she least expects it ... we’ll show up around 4:00 a.m. (giving her time to warm those weight watcher pancakes), then we'll ring her bell and shout “Frances, we’re here ..."

Frances recently told us about her mother, an absolute wonder at 84. Her mom just travelled to Mexico (by way of Cleveland) then instead of taking the day off when she returned from her vacation (and all those flights), she went into work the following day. We’ll miss Frances ... so ciao for now.

It aint opera and I have no clue what the lyrics are, but when you google “Ciao Francesca” and something pops up, you go with it.

—Knucks

How do you say goodbye without an opera? Forgetaboutit, here’s maestro Pavarotti from Madama Butterfly: Addio fiorito asil.