TABLE OF CONTENTS RKYV TRIBUTE ISSUE - DEATH OF CAPTAIN AMERICA {June 1 - June 20 2007} VIRTUAL TRIBUTE COVER - design and layout David Marshall Editorial Columns - “Pass The Stuffing...” - Randy Pare {June 2, 4, 6, 8, 11, 12, 18} Health Columns - “So how are we feeling today?” - Leanne Stiers {June 2, 8} Short Fiction - "Imaginatron" - Pauline Pare {June 5, 12, 13} Gallery Art "Martian Manhunter" - George Rizok & Randy Pare 1 pic of flamed bike and 1 of chevy ss flame job along with a Monkey face on painter's smock - Rick R. Camire Hover Bike thingy - mabob - Wiehahn Mundey 3 page comic - "Geni's First Day" - Dave Marshall digital Art effects, layouts & Randy Pare script, photos, layouts 5 colourful untitled oil paintings - Fatma Adra comic page sample "unearth"; pencil splash page of spidey & inked and tone pinup of jet set radio - Tom Parrish Zilch Redux - Randy Pare Poetry "Anna's Poems" - Anna Gehmacher {June 1, 12, 18 (2)} photo by Ian Amyot "Pare's Poetic Perspectives" - R. J. Pare {June 20} Long Fiction "Those who stood ... Those who fell...." - Randy Pare {June 14} "...in a town, like Joe's town." - CS Cartier {June 2} Family Life Column - "My Journal" - Amanda Fortin {June 7, 8, 11, 13, 14} Pop Culture Column - "Coffee and Cigarettes" - David Marshall {June 20}
Pass the Stuffing Letters from the Editor {June 2} Drum roll please....... RKYV is officially 1 week old!!!!... Yea. Now who has to change the diapers? What no takers? LOL Ahh... no rest for the weary {lol}. After a week I must say that I am impressed by the interest this e-zine has generated. The participation that each one of you has displayed is what's making this work. I congratulate all of you.:) For myself, it has provided the extra motivation to put fingers to keyboard and coax the words out. As a chronic procrastinator I can always find reasons to skip doing something... usually it’s my loss {not working out enough...not in the shape I want to be in.... not writing enough... not satisfied with the quality of what I write...} Let's be honest, all ART is CRAFT. Talent will only allow you to do so much. To truly express your artistic impulses {be they written, performed, painted etc. etc.} you must be IN THE HABIT of expressing them... You must develop your skill to the point where you know how to express these impulses to your desired effect. Therefore, don't kid yourself ... ART is WORK. Now, there may be people who get all hippy - drippy on this one like "man, art exists only for itself.." or "artists express for themselves and no one else".. Please, NO ONE would ever publish or put on display a piece of Art they created if they truly felt that way. Our inner child wants to show off and wants recognition. So, if ya don't mind, sell that soy product somewhere else..! So we are craftsmen. Think about that. Now can you see that, like all craftsmen, our craft needs practice and skill. That is where sites like this can help. Give yourself a figurative kick in the ass and use US {RKYV} to push yourself into creating more and using feedback to improve..:) Now, I'll let everyone get back to their CRAFT... {June 4} So here we are, the latest installment of my editorial "bon mots". I would like to take this time to congratulate another columnist stepping forward and adding to our e - zine. Leanne Stiers is a nurse and will handle the writing chores in the RKYV Health column..:)!!! Now all you frustrated hypochondriacs will be able to match your symptoms to her descriptions and figure out what icky and deadly stuff ya think yer suffering from..:)LOL Still hoping to find some intrepid artist willing to become an official STAFF artist:) I mean come on now guys and girls.. the pay is non-existent and the demands are many... you should be chomping at the bit so to speak...LMAO. {June 6} So the subject of inspiration has come up lately. Namely the inability to figure out where ya want to go or what ya want to do next... creatively. Ah, our old friend writer's block.. or for you aspiring artists.. what would you call it? Artist's block...LOL? The question remains... what to do? Now I am a firm believer that 'waiting' for inspiration actually means doing nothing... So I reject that outright. Truthfully I was in a similar situation recently... my long fiction piece that I am posting here on RKYV was stalled after just a few posts.. I was unsure precisely where I wanted to go with the story. So I dug up my old notes {never throw them away!!!} and decided it was time to go back to basics and produce an OUTLINE. Now many will claim that this is too structured for their expression... Bullshit! Yes, when the words are flowing you may not need a detailed plan... but remember this also means that you may need more re-writes afterwards as plot points and key moments will have a hard time being kept straight when we 'wing it'... This approach is useful in all areas of creative / artistic craft. Plan out your approach to a project ... this doesn't mean being a slave to it, it is merely a tool for organizing your thoughts and perspectives. This will make your work more polished and thought / emotion provoking. Which is the goal of all forms of Art... to have an effect on the audience. In the next day or so I will be continuing "Those who stood...Those who fell.." as MY outline is done and I am satisfied with the structure of the 1
story. I would like to congratulate my wife Pauline for her first installment of a 'tongue in cheek' piece of fiction she is calling "Imaginatron". {June 8} So two weeks in. Have we changed the world?.... solved hunger?... Brokered peace in the middle east?.........Um no we're here for fun dammit! Ok, are we having fun yet? LMAO .. I sure am. Let's here from YOU the members. Feel free to collaborate with each other and give constructive criticism to each other. Now on to some observations. Have our fictional heroes gotten darker and less noble? When I was a child the "Hero" in a piece of fiction... T.V., book, movie, comic etc. Would face choices... and they way they dealt with difficult choices DEFINED them as heroes. It seems most popular fiction these days views moral dilemmas as irrelevant in myth making. For example... Jack Bauer.. the character I am sure most of you know is played by Kiefer Sutherland on 24. My wife and I have a wager every season how long it will be before Jack tortures someone {usually by the first or second episode he has}....lol Now once upon a time... the character that resorted to a "success at all costs" philosophy would be considered flawed... a villain even. At best a tragic hero that would ultimately pay the price for their mistakes.. because the message of heroic fiction is to rise ABOVE our lesser natures. Nowadays we laud such characters as gritty and righteous. Hmm... in our efforts to keep it 'real' have we missed the point? Aren't heroes meant to inspire? I am sure that actual anti terrorist agents need to employ such methods all the time.. we read about these scandals in the papers enough...But can't our fiction... our art..give us something higher to aspire to? Don't get me wrong these types of fictions are VERY entertaining...but where are the self sacrificing heroes who would die before compromising their integrity, ethics, morality? Those Heroes projected the ideal of nobility...like modern versions of the romantic chivalrous Knights.. they did not reflect reality.. they rose above it. {June 11} Ya know, last installment I talked about heroes and the lack of nobility in mainstream heroic fiction these days. Well it seems that real life offers up a better morality than fiction. I was returning home from my midnight shift, when I noticed a few dozen people, of all ages, going door to door up my street... all wearing matching t- shirts that say "Love Orillia" and milling around a flatbed trailer they brought with yard equipment on it. Hmm...Well, as curious as I was I wanted out of the monkey suit... so I went in the house intending to chalk it up to stuff I don't need to know about...lol Then there is a knock on my door. A young lady wants to know if I have any yard work I need done?...lol { well now as many people know I am a chronic procrastinator.. my yard needed to be cut 2 weeks ago and was long.. and I have a big old rubbish pile out back by my shed that the wife has been on me to get rid of } Well, I informed the nice lady, and her growing crowd of matching T- shirts legion... that while I was indeed behind on my yard work I would probably just spend the afternoon doing and didn't need to hire anyone, so thanks anyway. Well, the lady explains to me that they aren't charging... they are all from the small Christian School and Chapel a few blocks away and they are running a campaign of volunteering with the kids doing odd jobs around the neighbourhood... and its free!!. Surprised, I just nod and tell them that hey, if you want to mow my lawn help yourself.. but it’s a big lawn.. "Oh no problem we have lots of helpers and equipment.." she says with a smile... "do you have anything you need hauled away to the dump?.. we have a trailer too.." I am literally stunned. I grab my work gloves and go out to help with the rubbish pile as upwards twenty to thirty of the T - shirt brigade sweep into my yard brandishing multiple mowers and whippers.... within twenty minutes my yard was done and spotless!!!!! I could not thank them enough. Apparently they are having a fund raiser and clothing drive in a couple of weeks and I promised we'd {the family and I} would go. A huge job that would have taken the entire day for me alone.... done that quickly.......wow. It’s not a cure for cancer, but by 'making my day' these people got to be heroes of a sort... at least to me. How is it, that we forget, that it is this easy to have a positive impact on our own small corners of the world? We may never be big "H" Heroes in this life... but we can all try a little harder to be heroes to someone... 2
{June 12} Once upon a time... the mid - Eighties... in a land far, far away... depending on where your coming from... Windsor, Ontario could be considered far away:) There was a young lad with a nascent geeky hobby. This kid collected comic books. Now this certainly wasn't gonna get him the girls... so he kept it to himself. But man, oh man, did he love his funny books. This young lad was faced with a dilemma... how to learn more about this hobby? How to learn more about the history of it, the best writers, artists etc.... While visiting his local library... he found out some info... there was a club that met there.. once a week... for comic book collectors. "Collectors" now that sounded better than "stop wasting your allowance on these stupid cartoon books!!" {he had heard that enough}.. so he went. He learned that a wide variety of people of all ages appreciated this art-form... and that it was ok to call it that!!!..:) He learned many ways to take care of his treasures... and that there were these massive conventions you could spend crazy money at buying memorabilia... and getting to meet the pros and get autographs. Wow.. what a ridiculously fun time. The dude who ran this club {Windsor and Essex County Comic Collectors Club..or W.E.C.C.C.C for those who preferred obscure sounding acronyms...which we did}.. This man, was a local teacher Roy G. James and the guy knew more about this hobby than we ever would. He encouraged us to be creative and write and draw, newsletters .. then fanzines.. then grass roots comics of our own. In all honesty, without the man this e - zine would not exist. I am EXTREMELY happy to announce that Roy has joined us here on FaceBook and while I may be embarrassing him a smidgen by going on like this... I look forward to his coming contributions... he is a VERY talented artist and you will all be able to see that for yourselves in the {near} future. Take a bow Roy... and welcome. {June 18} Well 3 weeks in and what a response!! Three cheers for everybody taking the time to make this work! Now, that we've got ourselves a nice little community going on here I was wondering where YOU the members see this going?? Is this a group to just stop by... say "hi" and take off? ... or.. are there those among us who wish to put nose to the grindstone and see what kind of interesting creative digressions we can explore? Now for myself, I intend on developing a 'habit' of writing as much as I can... I think all artists NEED to create as often as possible.. this fosters growth, maturity and evolution in one's craft. Now by no means am I suggesting that all or any of us intend to pursue our art beyond mutual amusement... but even if it's just for that... the more we develop the more interesting the final result is. And for those who DO burn flickering candles of hope to one day write or draw for a living constant practice and output is essential. Take it from me ladies and gents, it is SO easy to get busy with day to day life. It is so tempting to get preoccupied with the mundane necessary tasks and chores of the daily grind ... that the next thing you know 10 years have gone by... and it isn't as easy to pick up the pen or the brush as it once was. I am reminded of a cheesy but true line "if you don't use it.. ya lose it"... Well maybe it doesn't stay lost, but why go through the loss in the first place? So enjoy the gifts you have been blessed with and exercise them to keep them in shape...:) {like we all know as we grow older... skip working out and we get flabby... same goes for artistic skills} Another old WECCCC 'er has turned up .... Marc Ngui..:) The years go by and thanks to the age of the internet we need not slip into one another's oblivions.... good to see old and new faces alike..:D
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Health So how are we feeling today? - by Leanne Stiers {June 2} DIABETES AH..a topic too close to my heart. Just before Christmas 2006, I found out I have diabetes. Type 2 to be exact. At the same time, Michael, my older and wiser brother, found out he has Type 1. Unfortunately, genetics aren't on our side with this one. Our mother is diabetic, so was her mother, and grandmother. Being the nurse I am, I researched the differences..and found out some interesting things.... Type 1 -- The pancreas, has completely shut down, and no longer has the capability to produce the natural insulin your body needs to process the sugars you ingest everyday. Type 1 diabetes patients need to take synthetic insulins, to process those sugars. These people are at higher risk to lose significant kidney function, eye sight, and have a much higher risk for stroke and heart attack. Type 2 -- The pancreas is not functioning properly, and can be regulated, not cured, with medications and diet. Without proper control, it is not unusual for someone with Type 2 to evolve into a Type 1. Have you ever heard of anyone saying they are a "borderline diabetic?" Sorry, no such thing. It's kind of like being a little bit pregnant. So how do you find out if you have diabetes..here's a few helpful things to consider... 1. Genetics. If there is a family history of Diabetes in your family, discuss it with your doctor. 2. Blood work. Everyone should have blood work done yearly. When your doctor orders a fasting glucose, also ask him/her for a test called the A1C. The A1C can determine what your average glucose level has been for the last three months. The higher the percentage of your A1C, the higher probability of you having diabetes. The A1C won't cost you anything either. 3. Signs and Symptoms. Many people take the signs and symptoms of diabetes as simple everyday bothersomes... Chronic headaches, unusual feeling of thirst all of the time, frequent urination, dizziness, irritability, a feeling of anxiety for no specific reason, weight loss or weight gain for no specific reason. Diabetes is a leading cause of death in Canada. Don't be a statistic. Don't forget to see you doctor regularly, and you have concerns about your health, don't be afraid to talk to your doctor about them. I hope you all stay well. Next week.- Hypertension In Health, Leanne Stiers
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{June 8} I'm back again. This weeks topic was supposed to be about Hypertension. I'm having my own issues this week with that so I thought I'd move on to something else. Last week diabetes..this week...a few things about your health that everyone should know. Kinda like the Holy Book of Health... 1. Men..you first.. I know some of you are getting up there in years. Don't deny it. When is the last time all of you had a physical? I mean blood work, blood pressure check, and the dreaded glove test for enlarged prostate? Stats show the onset of prostate cancer is around the age of 40. I know many of you are almost of not there already. Prostate cancer, when detected early is very treatable. A PSA test, which costs up to $50 in some areas, can determine the likelihood of prostate problems in your blood. Do your wives and loved ones a favour, get checked. 2. OKAY Girls.. our turn. We need a PAP test at least every two years. IT's awful, I know. But think of the rewards. The doctor can tell you that everything is alright "down there", when it's all done. If it isn't, cervical cancer is also very treatable if detected early. Think of the men, women and kids in your lives. Don't put it off. And..for all those closer to 40, it's mammogram time. Nothing feels better...just kidding. I had my first one recently, and it wasn't as bad as I thought. Take care of all the things you don't like, get it over with, you'll be glad when you did. I can tell you all the things I know..99% I can guarantee you've already heard. Eat right, exercise three times a week minimum, drink plenty of water. But there is one thing I have learned over the years, not only as a nurse but as a human...listen to your body. You are the only person that knows what it's saying. Listen to it, and answer it. Go see your doctor and consider booking your annual physicals today. Stay well. In Health, Leanne Stiers
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Short Fiction Imaginatron - by Pauline Pare {June 5} Alfred Tenor was a quite wonderful and successful writer. His 6 books had all became best sellers and 3 had become successful movies. Alfred, however, had encountered a dilemma. You see, Alfred had come up with all of his ideas in his youth and even in early childhood. He had created the wonderful places and characters that graced the pages of his 6 best sellers in his wildly creative youth and had written the ideas as an adult. All of those ideas, in fact were contained in those 6 books and, try as he may, Alfred could not come up with a single idea now that he had grown. In desperation, Alfred tried the internet for answers. He first looked for herbal remedies for loss of imagination, but that turned out to be a less than promising idea. He then typed "story idea generators" into the search line. One word seemed to jump out of the page at him. Imaginatron. At first it seemed like a joke. The imaginatron was a strange mechanical device that a person would wear upon their head to stimulate the creative area of the brain. All this for only $39.99. A ridiculous idea. Someone wearing such a thing would look idiotic and insane. "Who would be so desperate", Alfred thought. The site did use paypal, however. It could make a great gag gift for a friend. Three days later...Alfred was waiting impatiently for the courier service to arrive. {June 12} The package arrived just ten minutes before lunch. It was sloppily wrapped in brown paper and secured with odd bits of tape and stickers featuring a cartoon pony. The address looked as if it had been written by an eight year-old child. Alfred was quite disappointed in this unprofessionalism. He opened to package to see if the contents were unbroken. The helmet device looked strange and dangerous. It had a lovely chrome finish that was always so pleasing on an appliance but, some of it's gadgetry looked as if it had been glued on purely for aesthetics and for no actual purpose. The most questionable part of the helmet was a long electrical cord dangling from the back. Was he meant to plug in this metal helmet (that appeared to be made in someone’s living room) and place it on his head? "How ridiculous" Alfred thought. He placed the helmet back into it's box with the intention of sending it back first thing the next morning. {June 13} Just then, the phone rang. It was Alfred's literary agent. It seems he was bound to a multiple book deal. Alfred opened the box once more and looked balefully at the Imaginatron. The nice people from the website wouldn't be selling something dangerous and potentially life threatening, would they? Just out of respect for his poor mother, Alfred decided to take the precaution of writing a "not a suicide" note. That is, a note explaining that if he was found dead, he had not been attempting to kill himself but was only an idiot. He was certain that his mother would be slightly less disappointed in him if he was only a simpleton and not taking his own life. She may even be able to collect the insurance. She would be upset about not having grandchildren of course but with the state of Alfred's love life, that wasn't likely to happen either. Alfred placed the Imaginatron upon his head and placed the plug near the outlet. He thought he should pray first but he couldn't think of any good prayers. In disgust at his complete lack of creativity, he just plugged it into the wall. {to be continued}
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Gallery Art
Pencils by George Rizok, Inks by Randy Pare
By Rick R. Camire
By Rick R. Camire By Rick R. Camire
7 By Wiehahn Mundey
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By Fatma Adra
By Fatma Adra
By Fatma Adra
11 By Fatma Adra
By Fatma Adra
Unearth page 1 by Tom Parrish 12
By Tom Parrish
By Tom Parrish
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Poetry Anna’s Poems - by Anna Gehmacher {June 1} This one is pretty straight-forward.. I was having a hard time Love, love, what the fuck, who needs love? Fucking piece of shit, love, love isn't more than a four-letter word aimed to make people suffer
You're hurting me, Tim And there's nothing I can do I can't call you cause I know you'll look away I can't look at you cause the pain is too big and I know that you won't care I can't talk to you cause there simply is no way Fuck it, what went wrong? Last summer's gone, but springtime is now here But the only thing I seem to feel is fear, You're not here, And I'm all alone, left with this pain, all on my own.
Love, love, why would I want that? I would never be able to love you I don't want to love you anymore I don't want to love anyone, for that matter Love, love, love stinks How could I believe in it? No, no, I won't fall in love, Especially not with you, You just wanna make me suffer.
{June 18} Another Tim-poem, one of my favourites..
Love, love, go love someone else
Where are you, Tim? I miss you now
{June 12}
So many times I called, so many times I was ignored So many times I wish you were here Right next to me So many times my wish didn't come true
Fuck it, Tim, what happened with us? We met, we kissed, we talked to one another You left, I wept, it hurt And now, you're back, but what about us? Tomorrow will come, and one day I'll be gone How long will you stay, how long are you going to wait?
Where have you gone? You've been away for so long Why did you do this to me? Tell me how much you love me, To then just go You ran away Said you weren't coming back
I missed you, Tim Although you probably don't know it I miss you, now, And there's no way I can't show it
How could you, Tim? You said you loved me Only wanted to be with me Couldn't stop thinking of me Said you'd missed me
I see you, Tim Walking the other way, you look at me, then you look away I want you back with me Just how it used to be 14
Well I'd missed you, too And you know that now So why did you go, and not consider me? If you meant what you'd said then something must've gone wrong You left me all alone, When there's so much we could have done Maybe I should never have kissed you Talked to you Been nice to you But you were the one that reassured me everything was alright You were the one that kept this going Even when I did everything to ignore you Get lost, Tim You're useless to me now I've thought about you too many times It's getting kind of boring now
{June 18} So, Tim, you got anything to say? Remember me, the girl you left when you went away? That girl that wept infront of your very eyes, the girl you consoled the whole fucking night. I saw you the other day, Tim, and I know you saw me too, don't lie to me, 'cause I can see right through you. Does it feel good to act like an idiot and ignore me every time, or does it just protect you from hurting 'cause you're no longer mine? I remember perfectly, Tim, everything you said to me, everything you promised me, all the looks that you gave me, all the hopes you raised in me. I hope you remember, Tim, everything I risked for you, all the times I had to lie for you, everything I ever said to you, everything I lost because of you. If we ever talk again, Tim, I hope you realise what things are like if you see them through my eyes, so you see the other side of the coin, until someday you get to the point where you say, "Fuck it, I should have stayed"
Ian Amyot - Photographer
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Pare’s Poetic Perspectives - by R. J. Pare {June 20} Ok this is a requiem for all lovers... who become parents...lol { how long until they are old enough to get out of the house? }...:) gist.... The sense that sentiment sends like the romantic Seine A part of the scene My scent a lingering sim from our lusty sleaze Of tumbled shirt and skin A science stolen moments since before the conjured seance Can wake the slumbering sibs Some cents for interrupted sense on care providers spent Affords more time per scene
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Long Fiction Those who stood... Those who fell... - by R. J. Pare {June 14} The bear cat, the big six and the jazz... Chapter One: ...weeks ago... The smoke curled upwards, in languid spirals, wisps and the occasional playful circles some Jane with pretty, pouty lips would send drifting through the club’s atmosphere. The juice joint was hot and it had nothing to do with how much the owner spent on fixing up the speakeasy all dapper like. The floorflusher’s had been jamming the joint to the rafters ever since the latest act started playing there these last few weekends. The band had its jive down pat, hitting on all sixes with a sweet mix of ragged swing and the bluesy solos of the sultry dame singing lead. Vivian O’Hara, standing centre stage captivated the mob’s attention. The tall red head was dressed in a black sequined evening gown slit on one side the length of her eye catching gams. Her hand trailed over the edge of the baby grand piano as she worked the stage. For a brief moment the big fella hitting the keys flicked the hair out of his eyes and smiled at her. Not a man in the house would have hesitated to trade anything for the smile she returned. Full of adoration and lusty promise the brief exchange said all that needed saying... these two weren’t on the market, that check had indeed been cashed. Danny looked up from his piano knowing he was hopelessly lost over this one. She could tell him to leap tall buildings... and hot damn if he wasn’t gonna try! But now, his favourite part of the show was coming up. The band finished the last fast number and paused quiet... to set the tone for what was coming. The house lights came down and a single spot illuminated Viv in the middle of the stage. The intimacy was how ya sold moments like this. The crowd took their seats... even committed floorflushers wanted to bask in Miss O’Hara’s brilliance during her evening’s finale. At the back, a grizzled barrel chested soldier sat in his formal dress drinking the coffin varnish this joint served ... but tasting single malt smoothness thanks to the songbird’s spell. “There’s a saying old, says that love is blind.” She begins softly, cradling the microphone in her palm’s caress. “Damn if it didn’t seem a shame to have to drag these two away from their cozy lives,” the soldier thought. “But the high-ups say these two need to come to the party, so their dance cards are full after tonight.” Taking one last gulp of the hootch, Sergeant Devereaux Kane placed the glass upside down on the table and got up to leave. With the spotlight on her Viv would not have noticed one patron leaving during her solo, but Danny did. “Queer thing...” he thought, “why would this know nothing fly the coop during the highlight of the night?” 17
This old Rough Rider from way back turned toward the exit without even a glance back towards the stage. As the doors closed behind him the sweet strands of the chorus followed him into the street. “There’s a somebody I’m longing to see I hope that he, turns out to be Someone....” Viv holds the note owning the hearts of all the listeners, the crowd, the staff and of course... Danny, her love. “... who’ll watch over me...” She finishes to a raucous heartfelt ovation. {to be continued}
... in a town, like Joe’s town. - by C. S. Cartier {June 2} The thunder cracked and the sky darkened. This night there would be rain. And this night there would be dark beasts moving across the land. Nobody could find the shelter that was necessary to shield them from the creature that stirs this night. It comes in a form of decay, and it is laced with kindness and sweet talk. Deception is the tongue of this vile, evil monstrosity. And this form of wickedness comes as a man bearing but one name. That name will never be forgotten. For at the beginning of time that name was uttered and it will be continually uttered until the end of everything. The thunder rumbled in the darkened sky and tonight there would be rain. This night will be the night the serpent returns. The rain splashed onto the windshield with a fury just short of violent and the wipers whined frantically in an attempt to remove the water from the driver's view. The street was empty as the falling pellets assaulted the derelict street in a continuous onslaught. With a flash of bright crisp light the street came to life with images of dancing trees that swayed to the pounding of the storm like it was a rhythmic calling. Moments later the car shook with the crack about the air. The road twisted and the car followed the pavement true. Fast spinning wheels erected water from the street on both sides. In a wave of fury, the automobile pushed its way down the roadside and cruised toward a final destination. Brightness outlined the ominous skyline and the driver could note the quickened response the thunder made. As the car pushed itself closer and closer to the center of the storm the trees applauded the symphony of moisture by once again dancing in the wind. The lightning and thunder moved amongst the trees and bright striking force sent sparks falling to the earth below. In nature's own way, it spoke to all life and said, “I am supreme.” The tree that was struck with lightning dove to the road and the driver turned to avoid the new obstacle. The new direction sent the car to a permanent stopping position. The lightning cracked and the outline of smoke danced in the rain. A wheel of the injured car spun in a sloppy circle in a salute to the fury around it, and bowed to the superior forces. It acknowledged its new leader. {to be continued}
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Family Life My Journal - by Amanda Fortin {June 7} My first entry. A story into my life. What will day to day bring? Sadness? Happiness? Maybe a bit of laughter. I'm a mom, laughter is almost always guaranteed. My children. 3 gifts. 3 angels. I love my babies. They bring me a great deal of stress, frustration and anger, but it's amazing how great the love is. Those little things that children do and say to make your day just perfect. It was my husbands 30th birthday. He was fussing about getting old. My oldest little angel walked up to him, looked him in the eyes and with a smile said, "That's ok daddy. You're still younger then mommy." My son. 4 years old. I thought he'd near learn how to use the potty. I envisioned him as a teen wearing depends, then one day calling me up at home from college saying, "Mom. I did it. I peed in the potty." then the diaper commercial theme song, 'I'm a big kid now.' Boys are so stubborn. Don't get me started on stubborn. My 7 year old's favourite word is, No. Had on the hip, acting 17. Looking at me with those, 'I'm the boss here,' eyes. Immediately I'm compelled to stick my hand in her face, "Talk to the hand cause my face ain't listening, young lady." Yeah, young lady. She's still my daughter and she sure as heck isn't 17 yrs old. Men.......Oh men. What are we going to do with them? Mine. He's an interesting fella. I know I don't stand a chance when he gives me that look. He pounces on me like a cat trapping a mouse. Wrestling, play fighting......I so love it. That is my entry for this evening. Good night {June 8} Another day, another barrel of laughs. I wake up this morning, way too early for me. 5:30am. I drag my butt from bed to find my 3 precious babies in the livingroom. Victoria is planted in front of the television, PS2 on, controller in hand, Sims 2 on the tv. Her characters are running around, flies buzzing around their heads. Music beating out a tune in the back ground. Catherine is planted in front of the computer, her tiny little hand on the mouse and a smile on her face. "Good-morning mommy." Sims Makin Magic is in full family mode on the monitor. I've created little Sims monsters. Addicted more then I am. Nicholas was encouraged to use the potty because of the game. Yes, that is right. While one of the characters was standing infront of the toilet, Nicholas looks up to the sound of the make shift urination. "I got to go pee mommy." and off he goes. The potty. A strange contraption don't you think? Shiny white porcelian. The perfect canvas for a child to show off his/her talents at painting. However, paint is not used for this artistic challange. Noooo. I call them.......poop props. I dont' think you want the details. 19
I look around. Toys taking up 3/4's of the sofa. Pillows, blankets......did they camp out in the livingroom? Us parent's have no room to ourselves. When you become a parent, every room is your child's. I dropped into bed last night. Exhausted. Sore from my earlier foot cramp that happened at work....very embarrassing. I turn over on my side, close my eyes and slip an arm beneath the cool fluffy pillow. What's this? Pulling out a Bratz from under my pillow, I realize I've invaded a hiding spot for my daughters favourite Bratz doll. Realizing that she'll be very upset if I don't leave it where she had, I tuck it in the drawer of my night stand with a devilish grin.......for I am the provoker. Wait till she goes looking for it. I work tonight. I wonder what tale that will bring. I guess we'll find out {June 11} Today was a fairly hectic day. Not exactly one of my best days. Everything was all fine and dandy till I became a main course for a group of red ants. Yeah, that's right, I'm a teeny weeny meal ticket for some of the meanest little shits around. Red ants or fire ants. While my kids splashed around in the lake with my hubby I was viewed as all you can eat, buffet style Canadian food. I sat on a bench, feeling pinching in my lower back. I figured it was the bench slivers poking me but when I got home, my back was burning. There stood my youngsters dripping all over the carpet, my son emptying a bag of sand onto my livingroom floor and my back feeling someone had stuck a hot poker to it. I ran to the bathroom to investigate and was shocked to find 5 very large bumps protruding from my back. Yeah, I used the word protruding. It's a serious affair when you find your flawless skin marked by greedy insects that decided to feed on a woman that hates the beach to begin with, what were they thinking? I guess I just happened to be sitting on their dinner table. I was asking to be chowed down on. I can picture it now....."Hey Harry, dinner's ready. Get the kids. I think the neighbour should join in on this meal ticket. She looks fresh." Jumping in the shower helped a bit but oh boy, now I know what it's like to be set on fire. It only figures. Being uncomfortable at the beach as it is, I end up with yet another reason to hate the place. What has happened to the world? To humanity? Children at the beach telling other kids to f**k off and shit like that. Wow. It's pretty bad when you can't take your children to the beach for fear they will pick up an inappropriate phrase or two from the other kids. I love how there was a big sign that stated there was NO dogs allowed in the water yet everywhere you look there's little dogs, big dogs, medium dogs and dogs that are barely legal to call dogs. Maybe a giant rat but not a dog. One woman came out of the water with her tiny little pup in her arms and I was so tempted to ask where the rest of the dog was. I don't predict heading off to the beach anytime soon. Camping is still happening on Saturday for me though, nothing can detour me away from that. Camping’s my life....unless my sister-in-law fails to deliver my tent that is. If I don't get it, I'm going to have to tell my children why they aren't going camping. I can't afford a new one. Well, yet another one of my pointless posts but I'm heading off to the sofa to chill with the old man. ha, ha, old man. What does that make me? I'm older. 20
{June 13} Do you believe that a horoscope might actually dabble in the truth? I never did. Not until yesterday. My husband had read my horoscope a few days back, it said that on Tuesday, I would have a bad day at work. Tuesday came. I did indeed have a bad day at work which the details I'm going to keep to myself. All I'm going to say is I didn't get all my jobs done and I'm hoping I don't get into trouble. However, something funny had happened. A man came in and was standing behind me and I didn't notice he was there and when I turned around, I nearly jumped out of my skin. We had a laugh out of it and I served him. While I was ringing in his order I noticed a giant flying ant climbing his shoulder and heading to his neck for dinner. I reached out and attempted to swat it away, which made the man jump because he didn't know what I was doing. I had to tell him to stand still. I finally got it off and told him what I was doing. Once again, we had a good laugh. A woman he knew saw him and came in, he talked to her a bit then told her how he'd made me jump, I then told her it was ok, I returned the favour by making him jump in return when I attacked him. That was the highlight of my night, which turned a bad day, into something to laugh about. So, next time you read a horoscope, take it to heart, it may actually come true. {June 14} I hear everyone complaining about our environment and the city can't figure out how to encourage the use of the public transit...it's simple, I'm sure it'll be figured out eventually. I took a trip on the public transit to go visit a friend across town which requires taking 4 buses in total to get there and then back again. I decided to bring my daughters to give my husband a break and a break he didn't get but I'll get to that in a moment. The girls and I are sitting down at the bus stop, the sun shining down upon us as if we were ants on the hot pavement and Mother Nature was holding a magnifying glass over us, burning and torturing us. Finally our bus pulls up, we step on and go to insert the bus tickets into the machine only to find it's a new system and was informed that it wasn't working making it unable to dispense the new electronic transfers. I was told to hand the tickets to the next driver. Finding a seat I attempt to open the window only to find out it too is broken. Feeling the sweat rolling down my neck and back I take shallowed breaths and watching as the driver has difficulty turning corners for it turns out the entire bus isn't working right. They were 20 minutes late and the construction everywhere was just outrageous, slowing the bus down even more with detours. The girls became lethargic with every second we spent on the non-air conditioned bus, travelling up and down the streets, the sun shining through the windows, creating a sauna like experience for all passengers. We finally reach the bus terminal where we head to the next bus we must board only to find that because we were so behind schedule, we had missed it and had to wait another 15 minutes for it to pull in. 21
Everywhere you look the sun is tormenting everyone. Thankful the terminal was air conditioned we step in and down a couple bottles of water before heading to our bus. While standing outside waiting to board the bus, a girl about 6' 5", covered in tattoos and sporting green hair stood, waiting to board ahead of us....Victoria of course has to yell out, "Ewwwwww, look at her hair, it's green. It looks gross." Embarrassed we board our bus only to be greatly disappointed to find yet another bus without air conditioning, we suffer once again with a hot bus ride across town, our butts falling asleep from the hard plastic seats and smelling, sweaty people sitting all around us, complaining about the heat. We approach our destination, visit with my friend and then later return to the stop and board the bus to head back home. Once again, it is still not air conditioned being the same bus that had just dropped us off earlier. I was sure the same smelly people were still on the bus or their smell just lingered. We reached the bus terminal only to realize that sitting on the hard plastic seats had caused me to experience numbness from the waist down. We board our bus to return to our last stop and was relieved to have a bus that is air conditioned, but that didn't change the fact that the seats are too hard and very uncomfortable and our rides aren't exactly short. So, if the city wants to know what will encourage more people to use the public transit, it would be nice to start with all buses being in working order, safe to ride in, air conditioning, comfortable seating and maybe some music. Why would people sustain themselves to such torture and torment if they can easily enjoy the air conditioning and padded seats of their own ride in their cars? Get a clue. As for giving my husband a break from the 3 kids finding it difficult to get along in the heat, that didn't happen. Just so happens our son decided to have an accident in his pants after hubby had already given him one bath. What a day......can't wait for Saturday to go camping.... Enjoy the summer people!
From feebleminds-gifs.com 22
Pop Culture Coffee and Cigarettes - by David Marshall {June 20} This is for those who collect things. If you don't, you may not understand what I'm about to say. Anybody know where I can find a copy of Captain Carrot #16? I've been looking for that particular book for a few years now. It's the only one I need to complete the series. I have spent almost half my life trying to complete one comic series or another. What is it about the collector mentality that makes us obsessive compulsive? Or is it the obsessive compulsiveness that makes us collectors? There was a brief time in my life when I had found everything I was looking for and had no series to complete. Did I feel happy at my accomplishment? Nope I realized at that point that I love the search for comics and the joy you feel when you find one you've been searching for, what seems like, forever. So now I keep a few series on the go and someday I may complete them as well but I'll always keep adding more to my list just so I'll always have stuff to look for and a reason to go to shops and shows. So every time I look I'll be able to recreate the joy of finding: Alpha Flight #23, Infinity Gauntlet #4, Sachs and Violens #1 and Captain Atom #33. So I'm not really obsessed. I'm just committed. ...or possibly should be committed. (Send the guys in the white coats to look for the bald guy rooting through the dollar bins for back issues of Checkmate)
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