Have you ever wondered what its like to BE a grocery clerk or cashier at a grocery store?
Constantly scanning groceries?
Well now you can experience first hand!!!
Scan this QR code to uncover those secrets:
Sunday, February 26, 2012
PRIMETIME Update
PRIMETIME-A Novel inspired by true events about what its like to work at a grocery store in a small town has an update:
Have you ever wondered what its like to BE a grocery clerk or cashier at a grocery store?
Constantly scanning groceries?
Well now you can experience first hand!!!
Scan this QR code to uncover those secrets:
Don't forget to share and tell your friends to visit. If nothing else just tell your friends to scan this QR code with their phone/barcode reader and do what it says! Thanks! ;)
Have you ever wondered what its like to BE a grocery clerk or cashier at a grocery store?
Constantly scanning groceries?
Well now you can experience first hand!!!
Scan this QR code to uncover those secrets:
Progeny Sequel Excerpt
At eleven that morning, the media and nearly every Avian [people from Ava, Missouri] stood in the street outside his home waiting for him to walk out. A small podium with microphones and recorders were already set up [as he had scheduled a press conference]. He walked out, wearing a white v-neck tshirt, blue jeans and no shoes. He wore what appeared to be a blue rubber cancer bracelet on his left wrist.
He walked up to the podium with his hands holding the top corners as flashes took his photo. People yelled out questions. But as Celeste watched him from a couple rows back, she noticed his facial hair, it was blonde and trimmed close to his face. He never looked up, he kept his eyes down to the grass in front of him. As he started to open his mouth everyone went silent, which he instantly put his hand up and reached into his back jean pocket and pulled out what appeared to be an iPod.
Placing it on the top of the podium he walked back to the house. For a moment or two no one said or did anything when one man ran up to the podium, “It’s a voice recorder.” He replied.
He pushed play and this was the message that played:
My name is Paul Dial. I am the renovator of this house, which was designed by my late brother, it was his last project before he died. I would appreciate you respect my desire to stay private. His work speaks for the both of us. If you have any questions you can direct them to my e-mail: In_Memoriam_4@yahoo.com and will attempt to answer as best as we can. Thank you.
[Paul was sent to a facility shortly after, the time in between he had sent an away message, to test the away message, send to the above e-mail address, if he receives, currently he will respond with any questions you may have. IE, Paul Thomas Dial will respond until the novel is published. ]
He walked up to the podium with his hands holding the top corners as flashes took his photo. People yelled out questions. But as Celeste watched him from a couple rows back, she noticed his facial hair, it was blonde and trimmed close to his face. He never looked up, he kept his eyes down to the grass in front of him. As he started to open his mouth everyone went silent, which he instantly put his hand up and reached into his back jean pocket and pulled out what appeared to be an iPod.
Placing it on the top of the podium he walked back to the house. For a moment or two no one said or did anything when one man ran up to the podium, “It’s a voice recorder.” He replied.
He pushed play and this was the message that played:
My name is Paul Dial. I am the renovator of this house, which was designed by my late brother, it was his last project before he died. I would appreciate you respect my desire to stay private. His work speaks for the both of us. If you have any questions you can direct them to my e-mail: In_Memoriam_4@yahoo.com and will attempt to answer as best as we can. Thank you.
[Paul was sent to a facility shortly after, the time in between he had sent an away message, to test the away message, send to the above e-mail address, if he receives, currently he will respond with any questions you may have. IE, Paul Thomas Dial will respond until the novel is published. ]
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Between Your Sheets (A Poem)
I don't write poems very often but figured I'd make an attempt this weekend and share with you.
Between Your Sheets – December 18, 2011
As you lie on your back,
And look into the skies,
With your fingers in the clouds
With full care you take
The light into your heart
And beams off your smile.
Is when you fall between the leaves
Is when I snuck between your sheets.
The warmth of your touch
And the touch of your soul
Guides the weight of your heart
Back to the heart of your life
And while you are searching
For that one rock of sand
The time passed along
The riverbed of life
Back to the place
Where stars streaked
Backwards across the street
Under the lamplight of
Lightning flies and
Twinkling skies.
Falling into your satin bed
The flowers petals under your head
Our fingers weave like rose vines
The sun sits on your curving spine
As you kiss my cheek
Discovering me between your sheets.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Progeny and Excerpt
I have just finished the first draft of my next novel: PROGENY.
It is the story of when 5 serial killers/murderers come together in group therapy in an asylumn for the criminally insane.
Here is the cover for the first time:
It is the story of when 5 serial killers/murderers come together in group therapy in an asylumn for the criminally insane.
Here is the cover for the first time:
The opening of PROGENY:
“The fear entered my room at a quarter passed one that morning, the door creaked open, rusty from the years of continued overuse. He stood silhouetted from the hallway light. I knew what was beneath his robe, but he didn’t know what was beneath my pillow. “As usual, say anything and I’ll kill you, understand?” But the question itself implied I could only shake my head. He began to disrobe but not letting go of the whiskey bottle, as I undressed my own innocence, the shirt with a BMX biker and the tighty-whities. He undid his belt like so many times before, the light from my night light glistened with a smirk of betrayal. “Come here,” he waved over. I took a step, he put his hand on top of the back of my head, pulling me down. He unloaded his gun into my mouth as I had cocked my own behind. The tears that rained down my face tasted like the bitterness left in my mouth. Fear that night entered the gunman and I pulled the trigger.”
Here's an excerpt from later on:
“How is everyone doing today?” Pine asked as a hyperactive little mouse of a man-child exclaimed nearly jumping out of his skin with caffeine-filled eurphoria was ushered in by two nurses. It was Frank, in a straight-jacket.
“Great fine, superb! How are you Doctor P?” He replied, sitting down. “My name is Lester Frank but you can call me Les, I’m 32, I like the color green did you know my eyes are green? That’s why my favorite color is green.”
“Nice to meet you Les, do you know why you are here?” Pine asked.
“Of course.”
“We are all friends here, nothing leaves this room. Do you want to tell us?”
“Yeah sure.” He then sat calmly in his chair, moved his tongue around as if moving the gum from his mouth, cleared his throat, “I killed my family.”
“Why’d you do that Lester?”
“Because.”
“Because why?” Dr. Pine asked pointedly, knowing the script for the conversation.
He looked confused. “I need a reason?”
“Yes.”
“That’s what you’re supposed to do.”
“How did you do it?”
“With a shovel of course. Kind of brilliant really because then I could just use the shovel to shovel the parts I cut up into the bonfire. That was a beautiful fire. The way the flame danced on their toes and played the ivories of their fingers like Mozart, Van Gogh would have been impressed.”
“Thank you Lester for sharing your story.” He wrote down something and came to the next person. A older woman in her late 40s, brown hair wiry with strings of gray lace. Skin soft, the weight of one and a half full-grown German Sheppard Dogs, the same that it took to get her off the policeman she was trying to claw the face off of.
“Miss Maguire is your name correct?” Pine asked her.
“Yes.”
“Why are you with us today?”
“Because I attacked someone as well.”
“Why?”
“Because he arrested me.”
“For what?”
“Murder.”
“Of who?”
“No one. I didn’t kill anyone.”
“So you didn’t go to the police saying you drowned your children?”
“No.”
“Then why did they find them where you said they were?”
“I don’t know.”
“Thank you for sharing Miss Maguire.”
At least I had a reason for killing someone. What was wrong with these people?
Friday, September 30, 2011
Photos!
Do you want to see photos of some of the scenes in my novel PRIMETIME?
You do?! Go here:
https://www.facebook.com/#!/PrimetimeTheNovel
You do?! Go here:
https://www.facebook.com/#!/PrimetimeTheNovel
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Primetime - A Novel
After leaving Xaviers bar in his hometown of Waukaponeda, Michigan, Sam is the lone survivor of a drive-by shooting. He struggles with the paranoia, gossip and survivors guilt while still being a manager at the local grocery store. Because of his position and the fact that his father was the former police chief for 40 years the fame of his name is inescapable.
The celebrity of his survival cupped with all of his co-workers and customers forces Sam to consider what fame is and how its different that in New York and Los Angeles. While celebrity may be considered going viral for same it is a virus and the symptoms, treatment and effects of it go beyond what he feels he is capable of handling.
check out: https://www.facebook.com/#!/PrimetimeTheNovel for more updates!!
The celebrity of his survival cupped with all of his co-workers and customers forces Sam to consider what fame is and how its different that in New York and Los Angeles. While celebrity may be considered going viral for same it is a virus and the symptoms, treatment and effects of it go beyond what he feels he is capable of handling.
check out: https://www.facebook.com/#!/PrimetimeTheNovel for more updates!!
Sunday, September 11, 2011
9/11 Thought
Looking at the video of all the families of loved ones lost walking into where the Towers once stood is powerful.
Looking at the video and pictures of what Ground Zero looks like today I couldn't help but think of when Jesus comes back and the dead come back.
I imagined 2976 souls walking out of the footprint of the World Trade Center, and how sad yet inspiring that would be. They walk out.
I'm sorry they couldn't but to me in a way, by doin that the terrorist lose again.
Looking at articles and pictures this week I see a lot of odd descriptions. "Our intrepid reporter found this story," or, "our intrepid photojournalist captured this picture." But looking at the faces captured in the photos of intrepid firefighters and police officers and Port Authority officers I beg to differ.
All the controversial aspects of 9/11, all the questions and conspiracies that could be discussed and that I discuss with my family makes me sad when I see a picture like this from a child that lost her dad in the tower:
or
And I don't need to see the photos of the attackers, plotters and named terrorists. Saying their names and showing their pictures just glorifys them, but its easier to show one photo and not 2976 photos and names.
We will never forget, how could we. Yes the buildings were hit, but they were hit because they were a symbol. You can't destroy a symbol. Because no matter what, people will always walk into that memorial just like the intrepid hero's that ran in.
What was taken was the owner of items like:
The towers are gone, they will never be there again.
But, in its place...we stand...illuminating like beams
After the attacks we felt hallow, like a skeleton, dead, numb. But one morning we woke up and the sun shown on our face, filling it in with a smile and we became whole again.
The man that wore this watch was the last man out of the South Tower. It was the first tower to fall, thus the second fell on top. The man wearing it...waking up in the hospital gave it to his wife. The time says 9:59 - the time of the collapse.
Looking at the video and pictures of what Ground Zero looks like today I couldn't help but think of when Jesus comes back and the dead come back.
I imagined 2976 souls walking out of the footprint of the World Trade Center, and how sad yet inspiring that would be. They walk out.
I'm sorry they couldn't but to me in a way, by doin that the terrorist lose again.
Looking at articles and pictures this week I see a lot of odd descriptions. "Our intrepid reporter found this story," or, "our intrepid photojournalist captured this picture." But looking at the faces captured in the photos of intrepid firefighters and police officers and Port Authority officers I beg to differ.
All the controversial aspects of 9/11, all the questions and conspiracies that could be discussed and that I discuss with my family makes me sad when I see a picture like this from a child that lost her dad in the tower:
or
And I don't need to see the photos of the attackers, plotters and named terrorists. Saying their names and showing their pictures just glorifys them, but its easier to show one photo and not 2976 photos and names.
We will never forget, how could we. Yes the buildings were hit, but they were hit because they were a symbol. You can't destroy a symbol. Because no matter what, people will always walk into that memorial just like the intrepid hero's that ran in.
What was taken was the owner of items like:
The towers are gone, they will never be there again.
But, in its place...we stand...illuminating like beams
After the attacks we felt hallow, like a skeleton, dead, numb. But one morning we woke up and the sun shown on our face, filling it in with a smile and we became whole again.
The man that wore this watch was the last man out of the South Tower. It was the first tower to fall, thus the second fell on top. The man wearing it...waking up in the hospital gave it to his wife. The time says 9:59 - the time of the collapse.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)