Saturday, August 25, 2012
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Saturday, August 11, 2012
100,000 Books Out the Door!
Tonight, my total lifetime distribution of books hit the big 100,000! Mostly thanks to Amazon.com
Most of those, 98,000 have moved since January 4th, when I began distributing with KDP at Amazon.
Most of those were promo books as well.
Yet, it's a great milestone for a 3 year writing career. And, if the next three years is anything like these last 8 months, it's gonna be a great ride.
Patting myself on back now...must go...
Most of those, 98,000 have moved since January 4th, when I began distributing with KDP at Amazon.
Most of those were promo books as well.
Yet, it's a great milestone for a 3 year writing career. And, if the next three years is anything like these last 8 months, it's gonna be a great ride.
Patting myself on back now...must go...
Friday, August 10, 2012
Einstein's Garden - Chapter 1
~~~
T-minus
3 months
Cape
Canaveral, Florida
January 1966
The
hardest part about traveling at the speed of light is stopping. Of
course, they never taught us this back in Houston. They were all
about getting us to the moon at a mere 25,000 mph, and back safely.
Pick up some rocks, flip off the Russians and smile for the remote
cameras. Being good military boys, we were cool with that.
The
pay was good, no one was shooting at us, and the girls at Cape
Canaveral were real good at holding us tight on the beach at night.
There were worse places to be, some place in Asia called Vietnam was
heating up. Korea and Germany had the cruel winters of our
forefathers, and the ships at sea held no fascination, unless they
were picking up your space capsule after a successful return from Out
There.
Sitting
at my favorite picnic table at Chauncey's Oyster Bar with the other
guys down South Cocoa Beach way we would talk it up real big and
macho. The girls with us were practically hypnotized by every word
we said. Vinny played this up the best of anyone by jumping up on
the table sometimes and getting the ponytailed fans to give him a big
T minus 10 countdown.
"10!"
he would start the count, flexing his left bicep and starting his
slow rotation atop the table.
The
girls would almost drool, but would religiously wait a moment and
then in their fascinated voices, almost scream.
"9!"
Vinny
would flex his other impressive arm, to the giggling delight of his
launch team.
"8!"
He
lifted his Miami Dolphins football t-shirt, some new expansion team
that year, and flexed his multi-cubed stomach. I looked around and
thought a few of the girls were going to pass out before he got to
the good part.
"7!"
They
cheered him on, and off came the shirt altogether.
By
this time, old Chauncey would be spying on us through the salt
encrusted screen window, to make sure we weren't getting too out of
hand. He tolerated us more than most would because we were military
boys, like he used to be. That patience would get us to 7, maybe 6,
but it was the fact that we were also astronauts that allowed Vinny
to continue his countdown further.
"6!"
A
few of the older girls started to whistle, like we might at a strip
bar. His muscles rippled like the neck of a bull chasing red. Of
course, Vinny had turned a quiet, almost broke Oyster bar into a
profitable strip joint tonight. All of us remaining guys moved away
from the picnic table now, having seen the routine before. He was
half drunk, our defacto leader in training, and a genius at firing up
the women folk.
"5!"
Down
came the zipper of his khaki shorts. The girlish screams were
deafening. It was a good thing Chauncey already was. I turned to
look inside the bar, no families had shown up yet. Good.
"4!"
They
all panted in unison, and the button at the top of his shorts
released, the pants falling slightly on his hips. I was relieved he
had remembered to wear underwear this time.
"3!"
The
girls were practically climbing up on the table with him, but like
the good entertainer he was, he gently pushed them away, smiling that
victory smile he was slowly earning second by second.
"2!"
Some
of the girls were covering their faces with their hands. Naturally,
their fingers were parted enough to let them continue watching in
some perceived mask of decency. These were good girls, raised in
Southern households of conservatism. But, they were also human,
slightly drunk and unfairly overwhelmed by a man that had been twice
the speed of sound that very morning.
"1!"
Vinny's
hands went up to the top of his shorts, and held for that one last
moment of mystery.
"Blastoff!"
The
girls all stood up jumping and screaming and easily hiding Vinny from
the rest of us guys. That was fine. We had seen him in his
underwear before.
Chauncey
finally pushed open the screen door, but I saw him coming and gently
put my hand on his shoulder.
"Hey
Chaunce,” I deflected. “We got ourselves a rocket launch
tonight!" I had my other hand in his, sliding a $10 bill into
his grip.
"This
is a family establishment Marvin, ya'll can't be getting all naked
out here." His eyes looked down to see his tip, then wandered
back up to gaze at the several pairs of female legs up on the picnic
table.
"I
know. We're not. He still has his underwear on."
Chauncey
looked a little over my head and frowned.
"Ya'll
got 5 minutes to clear out Marvin. And, no. He doesn't."
I
turned quickly and couldn't even see Vinny, but his briefs were
around his ankles and there was a lot of manic giggling.
The
other guys were ready to move the party somewhere else, and I knew if
we didn't soon, the police would be there.
"Hey!"
I shouted. "The cops are coming!" I winked at the other
guys, giving them the bluff. "Let's move this party to the
beach."
I
looked at my watch. 19:50. We had about 20 minutes to make it to
our favorite spot to watch launches, at the beach.
"Girls!
Girls! The Cape is launching a satellite tonight, in 15 minutes.
Let's go!"
Several
of the shyer girls moved first, a little overwhelmed by Vinny's
performance.
"Ahh..."
I heard disappointed female voices, as Vinny reached down to pull up
his pants, all of them.
"Come
on honeys! The rocket waits for no one!" Vinny broadcast,
stepping down off the table, a little flushed.
"Thanks
Marv," he whispered. "I was about to get a little crazy
there." He pulled on his Miami Dolphins shirt despite five or
six of the launch team trying to help him.
"About
to, eh?" I teased.
We
all piled into four convertibles and almost raced down to the dunes
just outside the base perimeter. The weather was perfect. Perfect
for a rocket launch, perfect for swimming and perfect for everything
else that was about to happen.
We
lined up our cars, facing the Atlantic and brought out our remaining
beers. Blankets came out of the trunk and shoes got left behind.
I
watched everyone pair off out toward the dunes, just in time. The
Gemini boosters lit up the Florida swamps and sky like God's
cigarette. I sat alone on the hood of my '58 Thunderbird and
wondered how much longer I could wait on Ann, my high school honey
from Orlando. Her heart was in engineering far more than drinking
and debauchery. She might have come with us tonight, except for some
exam later in the week. PhD, the boys would say. Piled Higher and
Deeper.
The
flames shooting out of the tail of that rocket crackled the air in
some kind of cosmic ripping of the sky. My eyes raced ahead as I
watched, and prayed. There went the future, my future. I could hear
the music in my heart, feel the crescendo rocking. It was my time to
go, my time to move among the stars. My time.
As
I sat there on the warm hood of my car, leaning against the
windshield, the rocket moved quickly to the point where the flames
were not much bigger than the surrounding stars.
That
star light was coming at me as fast as anything in the universe could
travel. I could feel it's message slamming into my chest like a
lover's promise. It had traveled for years to find me, here on the
beach.
I
raised my clenched fist up into the night sky, in victory. It might
have been the beer, but my eyes filled with tears as I heard the
universe call my name. It was indeed my time.
- look for Einstein's Garden in time for Christmas
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)