And Then There's This...

What I wish I were doing...

What's really going on...

And this is where I'm headed...

What I Need to Be Reading

What I'm Reading

Choked While Reading Choke and Trying to Make Everything Happen at Once

Clearly, I'm behind on blogging, which is exactly what I swore wouldn't happen when I started this Stephen King in 2013 endeavor at the beginning of the year. Of course, I figured that there would be days and nights when I wouldn't be able to get online and create a post, but I didn't really think that I'd fall so far behind that Brodie Vines would text to remind me that I had the blog before I had anything else and some people are still looking for the content to reappear. It's been vacant of anything original since the 19th of September, and that is - in fact - entirely too long. I finished Night Shift last month, and I immediately started reading Choke to have it completed in time for book club (which we had on Sunday evening - Jamie was the only member who finished it), and I've yet to reach the novel's conclusion. I guess I need to get busy with that, too. The only problem is that I finally made it home to take off my shoes and tie and belt since I originally put everything on before leaving the house just after eight this morning and walking down to work for the day. As I've written to complain about so many times in the past: there simply aren't enough hours in the day.

Between formulating a proper resignation from one commitment and fulfilling my obligations with another, writing a letter of intent and filling in all the necessary paperwork to apply for another grant, keeping my checkbook balanced and trying to find the time to fit in regular workouts, working full time and making meetings, returning phone calls and responding to emails, taking care of my dog and helping out my mom, trying to be a good guy and also not letting myself down - I'm not quite sure where time for myself fits into the grand scheme of things. Like always, I'm working toward some idea of balance. If anyone else out there knows anything about that, please feel free to let me know. I'm all ears.

I really need to iron before bed, but I'm at the point of either saving it for tomorrow or just donning the slightly wrinkled garments and dealing with the sneers of the fashion police who run the office. I'd like to get in bed and read a few chapters before I pass out, and it's pretty much imperative that I get my tired ass up for the first alarm so that I can complete everything in the morning that I'm more than likely not getting done tonight. I'm too busy to be depressed and too stressed to dwell on everything I'm missing. I just wish that some of the laziness that I see all around me would extend a polite hand in a gesture of good will. It'd be the right thing to do, but laziness rarely gives two shits about anything but itself.

The Stand is what comes next, and if I hope to finish it before the year is out, I've got to start on it. If I'm going to start on it, I should probably conclude this post, go floss, brush my teeth, get into bed, make my to-do list, read, pray, meditate, leisure read, and then shut my eyes on today. Tomorrow is another one.

Thanks, Brodie. I needed a reminder to be true to myself and to remember how I got from point A to point B. Now if I can only see the trees of D for the forest of C, I think I'll be one step closer to status quo.

"One for the Road" and "The Woman in the Room"

A combination of extreme inundation with the myriad positive things that work together to make me feel very pleased, content, generally right with the world have prevented me from making time to post lately. Not that I haven't been active, though far from as prolific as I'd prefer, with writing lately. For more information about that, check out what's happening over at www.henryharbor.com.

Regardless, this is my own personal space, a spot in which I can be as lazy and personal and totally irreverent in style, syntax, and story telling as I'd like. Everything that is Miles Jay Oliver both starts and ends right here.

I finally finished Night Shift last night, and the span of time it took me to complete proves just how much time I actually waste.

I'm making a concerted effort to avoid that now.

"The Man Who Loved Flowers"

The next story on my reading agenda is "The Man Who Loved Flowers." I have no recollection of this entry whatsoever, but I did have memories of the one I finished last night, "The Last Rung on the Ladder." Not a horror story at all, it's a tale that does further the idea that Stephen King is a master at putting his reader in the very thick of the action - he is able to elicit strong, emotional feelings of empathy with his characters. "The Last Rung on the Ladder" is, at its heart, a story about family and the profound sense of loss that one can feel when looking back on the many relationships that one has forgotten to cultivate as life passes. Love may transcend all, but its not always there to pick up and reciprocate at will. People grow up and move all around the world, and we sometimes forget about the most meaningful people that helped us to become adults. Last night's subject was one of tremendous sadness, particularly poignant at this time of transition in my life. Love, family, relationships, and loss are all at the forefront of my thinking lately. I'm hoping tonight's reading will help me move into a totally different mindset. I have too much to do in my day-to-day to dwell on morbid nostalgia for any longer than necessary.

"The Last Rung on the Ladder"

Now that I've nearly finished this short story collection, I'll have to decide what to read next. Almost 11:00, and I'm in desperate need of sleep. Up early to take Mary Louise for what has become our regular morning walk, and I'd like to try to fit a work out into the early hours before I head into work. Only two more days to the weekend, and I really think I've earned it. I plan to get some writing done, some reading done, some work for Henry Harbor done, and a little more movement on my 9th step work (it's been a bit stagnant for a while).

"Children of the Corn" One Last Time

It's because of the formulation of late night posts like this that I keep falling asleep when I'm trying to read. I'm barely getting five pages in a night (let alone any of the myriad other things I've got on my to-do list), but I'm determined to finish the story tonight.

And hopefully the rest of the book by the end of the week.

"Children of the Corn" Cont'd.

The many days, strung together and completely overwhelming, that I've had to "get through" rather than "enjoy" are now complete. We sent my grandmother off with dual services - both indoors and graveside - today, and now everyone in my family has the opportunity to be at peace with the difficult time we've experienced. Mimi was a special lady, and I can honestly write that I have nothing other than happy, positive memories to carry with me for the rest of the time I've got.

Besides the memories, I took away some other knowledge from the events of the past several days, today especially. I know that when the time arrives, I prefer that the things that people do to celebrate my life are planned by my AA people. It's not that I wouldn't want my family to have the responsibility, I just believe that the men and women with whom I'm recovering know me tremendously better and will pay more reverence. I'm not sure that families make the best decisions in times of stress and sorrow. Besides, I think that memorials and funerals are much more for the people who are left behind than the one being remembered. I'd prefer to be remembered. Accurately.

Now that the myriad obligations I've upheld are coming to a conclusion with me serving on a panel for a festival film tomorrow night, I have a long list of things that I've been in desperate need to attend to, but have continually put off until tomorrow. Again and again.

I got my ironing done early tonight, and I have a second load in the wash. I still have to balance my checkbook tonight, but the only other thing I plan to do (besides finishing "Children of the Corn") is make a list of all these things so that I can be sure to not leave anything important off.

Being a grown-up is hard work sometimes.

"Children of the Corn"

I didn't get very far into the story tonight. Unfortunately, 11:00 will be her in too short time, and I have to get up a little early in the morning to tackle everything that I plan to do before hitting work - before my grandmother's funeral. This entire weekend has been pretty much non-stop since I left The Firm Friday afternoon and began accomplishing everything I've needed to accomplish. For the most part, it felt like just going through the motions, like I was just swimming around in a sort of pre-dawn fog, never really totally putting my heart and soul into the myriad obligations, appointments, and commitments that I made. In spite of everything that I've taken care of, I still feel like I've barely scratched the surface.

"Children of the Corn" tonight - I hope to have more to write about tomorrow.

"I Know What You Need" Is Done - "Children of the Corn" Is Next

"I Know What You Need" was an interesting story, and it proves something incorrect that the Stephen King in 2013 book club discussed at our last meeting: he does write women well. The narrator is a strong, sympathetic, and thoughtful female - she doesn't sacrifice morals or principles or intellect for the sake of staying in a relationship, and that's a refreshing thing to read (from anyone, not only from a male writer).

"Children of the Corn" is next.

Still Reading - Barely Concentrating

I ought to have a little more to write tonight, but I've got nothing. Just posting to post. I'm incredibly tired. Really exhausted. And the busiest weekend of the year has barely even begun. I'm going to finish watching another episode of American Horror Story: Asylum. Then I'm going to read some. Then I hope to be asleep.

"I Know What You Need"

I have nothing to post tonight. I lost my Mimi at 12:59 this morning, and I woke up to a phone call from Mom to tell me that the inevitable had happened. I feel physically and emotionally drained, and I'd like to be up early to take Mary Louise for a walk before I have to get ready for work. Hopefully, I'll feel a bit more put-together and a bit more verbose tomorrow. For now, I really just want to read until I can no longer keep my eyes open.

"Quitters, Inc."

A great story. The first time I was ever exposed to the tale was through the portmanteau, Cat's Eye, in the mid-eighties. It reminds me of Requiem for a Dream and the way I view the film as the best thing that could possibly shown in high schools to frighten people about drug experimentation. I wonder if I'd read "Quitters, Inc." long before I ever put the first cigarette in my life I might not have ever been spending money on Blu's trying to quit.

I don't really have the wherewithal to write much tonight. I'm exhausted. My grandmother isn't doing well, and the time I spent with her and with my family after work really wiped me out.

"I Know What You Need" is next.

Followed by sleep.

Soon, I hope.

"Quitters, Inc."

"The Lawnmower Man" isn't the story I remember (and definitely not one of King's best), but it's one that is memorable now that I'm reading it sober. I seem to remember that it was turned into a film at some point in the nineties, but I never saw the flick (and believe it may have been one that King renounced wholeheartedly as it was an incredible deviation from its source material - was there virtual reality involved?). The story is much more along the lines of something that could have been created by R.L. Stine or one of his counterparts (not Christopher Pike, mind you - his work was always smarter and less pandering to his audience than many of the others); possibly something that would have made for an incredibly goofy episode of "Are You Afraid of the Dark?" or "Goosebumps" or "Alfred Hitchcock Presents: Junior (if there were such a thing)." Imagine a lawn service run by the oldest evil one himself and brandishing creatures in human-like form who use telepathy to control their lawn instruments and feast on the freshly cut grass flung out behind... along with moles, and - theoretically - anything else that stand in their ways. Not terrible. Not particularly scary. But definitely interesting and memorable.

Tonight will be "Quitters, Inc.," and I'm hoping I'll be able to make my way through it. As I compose this post, it's already after 11:00. I have 2001 playing from the DVR for some background music. I've completed everything necessary for the day, even gone a little beyond expectation, but I have to achieve at least six hours of sleep if I'm to be at productive tomorrow at work (which - by the way - I love; I don't remember ever feeling like I really wanted to stay longer somewhere, really looking forward to what tomorrow will bring); however, I had to rush around after work for the first meeting of the burgeoning Henry Harbor executive team and then dash to the Highland Club to hear Angie I. tell her story. This moment, right now, writing these words, is the first opportunity I've had to relax. If I'm going to be able to justify attending Refuge Meditation Group tomorrow at seven, I ought to end this post so I can get started sleeping for another great, big day tomorrow.

Cold Palms and Wet Feet

I read "The Ledge" fairly rapidly last night, and I was reminded why I think that Stephen King is considered the master of fear - a notion that many people increasingly discount with the plethora of titles he has released that fall well outside the genre for which he is known. No doubt, the man is a master storyteller. He writes natural characters well, and he manages to put them into wholly believable, albeit outlandish, situations. As a writer, he has a knack for reeling me in; however, there is something that he does as an author that I've not found in many other women or men creating fantasy, horror, thrillers, or sci-fi (Peter Straub and the one title of his oeuvre that I've read, Ghost Story, being the profoundly explicit exception). Stephen King knows what scares me.

I cannot definitively write that he is fully aware of everything that scares everybody, but he is definitely in touch with and well versed in the subjects that make me uneasy, uncertain, worried, nervous, and disquieted. Carrie is a remarkable first outing, but it's not necessarily scary; however, the one scene in Carrie that stands out the most as being one that made me most likely to look over my shoulder was the description of the rain of stones that fell over the White house following the eponymous character's first exposure to the idea of human sexuality. It's not that the scene was particularly frightening, only that it invoked imagery and ideologies from the Bible. Anything having to do with religious-inspired fear gives me immediate cause for concern. His second novel, 'Salem's Lot, is also not particularly frightening (so much as it is interesting and engrossing, in spite of what the other members of my Stephen King book club thought), but the long interior monologues of Father Callahan really resonated with, especially those having to do with the duality of good and evil and the many different forms that the latter can take.

Where Stephen King really hit his stride was in The Shining, the first book that is really filled with everything that is most likely to scare a child when the child's mind wanders after the lights go out in a storm. In that novel, the most frightening images were of the hedge animals coming to life and the thing that Danny found in the concrete tunnel on the playground. The Shining is where one realizes that Stephen King is really capable of having his readers tap into the memories of everything that scared us as children. He exploits these and, adding a sense of paranoia and mixing in common adult phobias for good measure, pushes his readers to rip through the pages of his work to try to get through the most difficult parts just to find out where he's going to take you next.

While I was reading "The Ledge" last night, I was right there on the ledge with Stan Norris, shivering in the brisk, cold wind, hoping I'd make it around the corners of the building, kicking at the pigeons, and aching to make it back to the balcony to save my relationship and my freedom (and my life). I'm already terrified of heights, so it may take less imagery for me than it would for others for me to have a sense of terror build in my body, but I was literally sweating while I raced through the short story. Even having read it before, even knowing that the narrator is not going to fall forty-odd stories to his death, even knowing that the character will come out on top, I still read with feet that literally turned damp with the dread imbued by reading the work. Stephen King knows how to scare me, and -luckily- he knows right when and where to hit me where it hurts the most.

"The Ledge" is not the best short story in the bunch, but it's very, very good. If I'm not mistaken, though, I believe the next, "The Lawnmower Man," is not a favorite, but it's been so long since I read it, I'm going to leave my mind open until I've finished it later tonight.

Nearly 10,000 Views...?

So, I just went back to review whatever tripe I posted a bit earlier, and I discovered that my blog has been viewed nearly 10,000 times. I'm sure that several of those are my own hits, going back to look at what I've written and to see the way my posts will appear when someone clicks on something that leads them to reading it; however, I'd like to think that at least 75% of those views are those from others. If that's the case, are all of these views from the 16 followers that I have? And why doesn't anyone comment on anything. I usually feel like more of a douchebag than an actual blogger, so I'd appreciate any feedback - positive or negative or merely constructive.

On The Ledge at the Arrival of Sundays with Hitchcock in September

It's 11:11... make a wish.

What could be better than finishing out something of a grueling weekend with the silent movie music of one of Alfred Hitchcock's earliest works as background noise while I (finally) have the opportunity for a little creative enjoyment? Maybe adding some junk food to the mix. I've already downed half of my second Amp energy drink, so I'm planning to be up for a while longer (there's another Htich flick on after The Lodger, and I think Frenzy is on around two - I've never seen any of these in this line-up, so I practically have a boner from the excitement). I managed to finish piping out the last of the work to compile and complete everything necessary to submit the PACE application for the Beaird Foundation grant, and I knocked out every important errand needed to make it here to this point. Now... do I work on the "Stories from the 318 (it's such a douch-y title; I really want to change it)?" Do I open up Night Shift and finish "The Ledge?" Do I paint (Ryan's birthday present still stands incomplete and waiting)? Do I run downstairs and heat up some chicken nuggets or make a turkey sandwich or my good ole favorite fattening stand-by: Frito Pie with extra sharp cheddar cheese and hot dogs?

I guess I can do pretty much anything I want. I don't have to be up early for anything tomorrow. There's the possibility of thunderstorms at the time of morning when I would normally be up and heading out the door to work - these will likely aid in my plan to sleep as late as possible. What are the chances that I can squeeze a little bit of everything into a single night of solitary excess and total vegetative/creative enjoyment?

I forget that I owe Bruce Parker II a lengthy blog that details the events that have been transpiring in my life since I last really got in there and let this sucker have it with all the details that I can muster. There's a lot of ground to cover: the separation from the job for which I left the practice (the practice was bad news, but the replacement was worse... paychecks bounced, the air was unstable, and there were other criminalistic activities from which I was pleased to depart), the acceptance of a position with a new firm (working with a group of amazing people led by one who is one of two of the most amazing of them all... lunches on the house from Yeero-Yeero and Superior Grill [AND?!!] daily Starbucks runs for towering cups of Americano's? It's even better than too good to be true; plus, the work is pretty fascinating), the suddenly failing health of my grandmother which continues to defy my brain (she was fine on the 4th of July, but has since rapidly decompensated to the point that I had to lay beside her on her bed to hear her talk today... just how does one's health get so critical so quickly?), my decision to go out on my own for a while and to just allow myself some time and opportunity to grow and to create and to figure things out, and - of course - the dissolution of The Shreveport Catalyst and my decision to move forward with the publication of my fiction through a new endeavor formed by a small group of vibrant aesthetes within the Shreveport-Bossier (and Benton) community. I feel certain that I have a ton more that I could write. There's always plenty on which Bruce wants filler, but I'm certain that this covers all the major, hot-button, pressing topics. Questions will be raised, and they will likely be answered via text.

For now, my notebook and sharpened pencil are calling my name. I picked them up earlier to write some, but put them back down when I realized that I really ought to make a quick entry here. At least to commemorate the end of August, the beginning of September, the coming of fall, and another day closer to Halloween.