Change, Please! Or... Could I Get Four Quarters for the Meter?

I'm going through the change again.  I've longed for it.  It is in my reach.  Very soon, I will make a major change.  Moving from one job to another.  I cannot tell you how long I have waited. Sometimes I thought it would never come.  And here it is.  But I'm not here to talk about my career move.  The real change that I want to write about is the change in my attitude towards everything else.

A few months ago, I made a decision to focus on three goals.  If it didn't pertain to those three goals, it would be swept off to the side.  (Except for housework. I insist on cleanliness.)  Those three goals have set the tone for the adjustment of my attitude towards life.  And it has changed me.  I am not the same person I was at the beginning of the year.  Once I set those three goals in place, focused my attention on them, all else became irrelevant.

I focused on only them. That was the first key.

I have to stop and point something out.  These are long term goals. You know like losing weight.  I set out to lose fifty pounds. Which I did... over and over, but once I crunched the numbers it was well over fifty pounds.  Somehow the scales don't seem to care and remind me I still weigh the same.

Back to the keys of this change.  Next, I pushed away the negative.  That was the second key.  I pushed away consistently annoying people.  I packed up unwanted stuff in my apartment and got rid of it.  Stuff can bring about negativity.  Think about moving it all.  The packing, hauling, unpacking, dust, bugs, the money you'll find that you thought you lost, but fell between the stacks and got covered up. I also got rid of negative thoughts.  Don't get mad, be glad. I was glad that I found that $50 that I stashed away... and then hid elsewhere and now I can't find it.  That is a little negative, but then I think about how I'll feel when I find it again.  And voila, I'm happy.

And the next key was I downed a couple of bottles of Sangria.  That was just for the hell of it.

And the final key, I committed to my three goals. If I truly want to meet these goals, I would find ways to make it happen. (Sometimes through trial and error.) Make sure, however, that they are what you really want.  This is where your spiritual journeys, meditations, vision boards, peyote-induced hallucinations, Tarot card reading, dream interpretations, self-explorations using yam-based lubes and whatever else come into play.

You HAVE to know what your heart truly desires and not be lured by false dreams, tainted hopes, and overblown expectations.  Know the difference between love and lust.  And be prepared to change when you realize they are not the goals you really want.

Find your connections by getting lost. Not literally lost... like in the woods or in some abandoned amusement park where a serial killer lives.  Think along the lines of... say... going to a nudist camp. Buck-ass naked with a bunch of other naked people. Questioning whether you can do it.  Letting it all hang out.  Flapping in the breeze.  Worrying that really was poison ivy.  Are you saying as you read this "Hell no! I'm not letting it all hang out."  Well, think again.

The point isn't to get physically naked (unless that is something you want to try); it's to do something that you've never done before.  Break away from the rut.  Yes, it's hard to get out of that rut.  Yes, you're used to it.  And damn, that was poison ivy and you want to itch that spot but don't because it will spread further...

Aha!  To spread further.  Once you've got the confidence and you do it, you may never view yourself the same way again.  And you confidence spreads further and you begin to see yourself as someone different. Does that mean you have to keep going to that nudist camp.  No.  You simply set out to challenge yourself and found that it didn't change you.  Other than your new found fear of poison ivy in places you can't see.

And please, believe me, I know. I was there and I challenged myself to do things I have never done before.  Some I have done again.  Some I will never, ever ever, do again.  But I tried. And have some left over calamine lotion in case there's more poison ivy.

The three keys to my success intersected perfectly, because I wanted them to. What is that they call it when everything intersects and it aligns beautifully?

Oh yes, The Bermuda Triangle.

CSM

Who is the real Christopher Marshall? Or... How the Hell Should I Know?

I was asked about my recent post titled "Dating... Or How to Spot a Jerk 10 Feet Away."  It's the previous post, just scroll down, you'll see it.  The reader wanted to know if it was all true and did all that really happen to me. (This person knows me too well.)  And then they went on to say "You need to show us the real you."  Well, okay.  Since one person asked, everybody gets to read.

First... yes, I'm going to digress... Erma Bombeck once said that while Jane Goodall was studying gorillas in the wild and working on her tan, she (Erma) was studying the lives of four homo sapiens in Ohio.  A husband, a daughter, and two sons.

Now that's good humor (or at least I think so).  I am an Erma Bombeck fan.  She studied people, with a focus on her family, in the most humorous way possible.  I want to write blog posts like Erma and sometimes I forget that.  And so I am trying to return to that.

So was the "Dating" post all true?  Yes, but I would say that 75% was made up of other people's crazy stories and weird experiences.  I just can't help but see the humor in the world around me.  There is so much craziness and it's so fricking funny!

I will say that the last part of the post was me.  The part about not settling for anything less.  The last couple of paragraphs came straight from my heart.  And I truly mean it.  (Hmmm... Sounds like a topic for another post.)

And now onto who is the real Christopher Marshall?

Well, he is a kind-hearted, loving, caring guy who gets hurt a lot because he cares too deeply to the point it's painful.  He can't help but feel empathy and sympathy for others, especially friends he cares about.  And he has lots of them nearby and across the country.

He watches movies and watches his favorites over and over. He spends an incredible amount of money on Legos.  That company has him hooked... Hook, line, and sinker!  And they're not the only one.  He would live in the Magic Kingdom, given the opportunity.  Those folks at Disney...  He just loves you...  And he just knows you love his money.

Fiction writing has become a major love and he gets highly frustrated when he feels like the imagination well has run dry, but then freaks when it's overflowing.  He is currently working on a new book idea with his favorite characters that he created.  He wants you to know... He writes fiction... most of the time.  Except for this post.

He strives for the heavens and gives it the best shot he can.  He loves life.  He loves liberty.  And he loves the pursuit of happiness.  He misses his parents. He has regrets.  And most of all, he loves, wants to be loved, and never gives up.  Well, that's not true... He knows when to give up and walk away.  And he has done it.  Several times.  But only in certain circumstances.  Maybe.  Okay, so he can't stop when he really should.  He really sometimes just needs to stop.  Just stop.

OMG!  Just stop writing about how he never gives up when he sometimes does...

Okay.  Done.

CSM

Dating... Or How to Spot a Jerk 10 Feet Away

The other night, I was pondering my dating/love life.  The whole ponder lasted all of about... thirty seconds. Very sad, isn't it?  That the pondering would only last that long.

In recent years, I have dated a number of guys.  Some have made it to second and third dates.  And yes, a couple of times they shouldn't have made it to the second or third dates.  It wasn't that I was desperate; I just wanted the night out. I mean look at it this way... He might have taken me to a nice restaurant where I might have meet a guy who would be the love of my life.  You've got to keep those options open.  But I digress...

The reason I was pondering was because of a recent Facebook post...  It was basically a "tell us 26 things about yourself."  One of the questions was something along the lines "what is the question you get asked the most?"  My answer: "Why are you still single?"  And yes, I do get that question on a regular basis, but I've never really thought about it.  Really pondered it.

Why am I still single?  And since I know you are all dying to know, I am going to answer it now... (Feel free to wash dishes or laundry or take the dog for a walk... I won't mind.)

I am still single because I chose to be single.  First, I had a career to develop.  (Done.)  Then I had dying parents to tend to.  (Both gone.)  Then came the estate.  (The most weirdest year of my life. It's odd seeing your name on court papers even though it has little to do with you personally.)

And most of all... OMG! Doesn't anyone know how to date?  I guess this is the payback I get for believing that dating is like what I see in the movies.  We see each other.  We plan to meet on top of the Empire State Building.  I get hit by a car and don't show up.  And six months later, Cary Grant shows up on my doorstep and all is well.  How lucky was that Deborah Kerr...

I've met guys in various ways.  Like placing an personals ad in the local rag, then onto Yahoo dating, then to free websites, and now the cellphone apps era...  Where every one can hide, lie, cheat, and play games.  My favorite is the opening conversation game.

"Hey"
"Hey"
"How r u?"
"Good.  You?"
"Hornie"
"I appreciate your honesty but dislike your inability to spell."

That single conversation lasted over twenty-five minutes.  In person, it could have lasted one minute.  And he could have hid is inability to spell.

I've found the ones I've meet in person are the best and the most promising. I see him.  He sees me. (We can't hide that extra 10 pounds like we can in an app picture.)  I evaluate his facial expressions, listen for key words, see if he... "leans in."  I touch him, smell him... (It's important.  Does he have that soapy smell that means he took a shower?)  I feel his presence.  Does he make me feel good? Does he know how to articulate a sentence?  Does he have all his teeth?  (Don't ask about that last one.)

Dating is hard and finding someone who is honest with from the get go seems to be even harder.  And the ultimate reason to date is to find that one person who will become your best friend, your confidant, and your co--builder of a life full of memories and adventures.

I will never settle for anyone less.  He must like me for who I am and just as important he has to like who he is.  And more importantly, we must have connections.  Be it travel, Legos, Disney, movies, books, writing, cooking... A seed that will grow into something more.

I'm reading the newest book about Julia Child and I can't help but think about how she and Paul became American icons...  And it all started over French cooking.

So, this is Christopher Marshall.  Bonne Recontre!  (Which means Good Dating! in French)

CSM

May the Peace be with you... Or What the Frick!

As Monty Python sings, you must "always look on the bright side of life"...  And I can't help but think, at least right now, screw you and your bright side...

Cause right now, I am having trouble seeing it.  I mean it's like where the hell is the bright side?  Is that it over there?  How about under the dining table?  Behind the couch?  Nope that's a dust bunny. O wait...  How about the same place I hid that $50 that now I need, but can't remember where I hid it?

When I sing "always look on the bright side of life," I get the meaning.  Find the humor in life, but even now, I just can't seem to find it.  And it is at that moment... and I mean a very long drawn out moment, that I realize that what I really need is peace.

As a water sign, Cancer to be exact, I feel deeply.  I emote and spew emotions like tasting raw squid or fish eyes. Or if you like a Danny Thomas spit take.  Because of this emotional turbulence which could suck a person in and chew them up and spit them out in a split second, I find myself easily hurt over incidents and issues that anyone else may just shrug off.

Some days being this emotional is great.  I cry a lot when I'm not only sad but happy.  I'm a gushing fountain whenever someone mentions that Legos are on sale somewhere.  I practically fall apart when Disney World sends me an email saying that they miss me and want me to come back and stay... and even worse off when I realize they only mean for a few days.  Why can't it be a longer time at the same price...  Maybe like six months.

Some days being emotional is awful.  I can't wrangle them in.  It cusses at me.  It hisses like a tire losing air.  I say things that I wish I could take back, but I still think trying to squeeze a size 10 into a size 4 is not a good look.  I cry over the fact there was no mail.  I lose it over spilled milk.  Literally.  I did it the other day and was sure that the world would end. And don't even get me going on the fact that Mrs. Brady...  No I can't say it...  It's too hurtful.

What I really need at this time, right here and now, is not only a little Christmas but also peace.  You know. Peace and quiet.  Peace of mind.  Give peace a chance. Peace of blueberry pie.  In other words, get lost in the my mind and think about my writing. Wander off to my memories New York City and marvel in its wonder. Take a ride on Peter Pan's Flight at the Magic Kingdom...  A ride I have ridden so many times and can visualize with no problems right down to the funny shades of psychedelic colors.

So, yes, I must "always look on the bright side of life," but I've also got to find that peace in the moment to survive the emotional storm.  It will calm, but I've got to ride the waves.

Just saying.

Thanks for reading...

CSM

"Perfection" -- A New Short Story

Ladies and Gentlemen, my new short story is one of two that I worked on.  Both are gay-themed, so consider yourself warned.  I'm not going to say what I think about it, but only this...  It seems and feels true.  I think even though it is gay-themed, you might relate to it. So here it is...

Perfection

Jordan was too tall.  Ryan was too geeky.  Joe didn't like to travel.  Alex didn't like to camp. Michael had dark hair.  Not one of them was perfect.  I wanted only perfect.  I deserved it.  Those guys and numerous others lacked qualities that I wanted.  Pure and simple.

I was thirty-seven years old and still single.  I had decided many years ago never to just settle, but to find my perfect match.  Why just chose someone with no similar interests than mine?  And just when I thought I would never meet the one.  I did.

Just after work, I had decided to stop in Barry's for a drink.  It was one of those exclusive membership clubs right off of Castro Street, just gay men.  It wasn't a sex club.  In fact, it was a select club to keep the fags out.  Besides, if I wanted sex I could hit any of the baths or find someone on one of the apps.

It was about nine o'clock and the usual crowd was there for their Saturday night follies.  As I perused the boys at the bar, some smiled, others turned away.  I had dated them all.  I sat down and ordered my Scotch and soda.  I sighed and fidgeted and twiddled my thumbs.

Only Robert spoke to me.  He wasn't too bad.  He had dogs that he would have given a kidney to, if it meant keeping it alive.  I don't hate dogs; I don't want to be second.
"How are you?" Robert asked.

"Fine, thanks for asking," I said.

"Good to hear.  Still dating what's his name?"

"Do you mean Tom?"

"That's doesn't sound right."

"Maybe you're thinking of Ron.  Or maybe Quinton. There was Chico.  How about Guy?"

He shook his head.  I noticed he grimaced. "I've got to hit the bathroom."  He left.

I proceeded to order another drink, when the crowd parted.  That's when I saw him.  Sitting alone along the wall, he was a god.  His hair was blond and curly.  He looked fit.  His clothes were perfect.  And forty points right there. He glanced my way and smiled. Add another five points. I picked up my fresh Scotch and soda and walked over to him.  I didn't bother to ask.  I just sat down.

"Hi, my name's Craig Samuels." I said and put my hand out.

He said "I'm Russell Williamson" and shook my hand. It was a strong masculine handshake.  That was worth ten points.

"Are you new in town?"

"I am."

"Where are you from?"

"I moved here last week from San Diego. I started a new job."

"Ah, what do you do?"

"I'm an investment counselor."  Ten points.
"Interesting.  I have some money that I need to invest.  Maybe you can help?"

He gave me his card.  Russell Williamson and listed the bank.  I love his name.  Russell.  I asked if he was single.  He was.  I told him I was.  I couldn't help but stare at him.  He noticed.

"What do you do?"

"I work at home.  I have a travel business."

"Must be nice.  Not to have a boss or be bothered by anyone.  You probably can set your own schedule."

I laughed.  "I do.  I get lots of quiet time."

"Perfect." Ten points.

I chuckled.  "Yes you are."  A little flirting I thought might stimulate him more. He grinned.  Oh god, his smile was wonderful.  I wanted to run my fingers through that hair. He asked me about my favorite places to travel.

I said "I love Europe.  Germany and France are beautiful countries. The scenery is gorgeous."

"Both my favorites.  I would travel back there.  Wouldn't it be great to camp there?" Twenty points

"I love camping. I have never camped in Europe. I would love to sometime."

He kept smiling.  "Are there any great camping sites here?

"I often go to some great camp grounds and just spend my time reading and relaxing."

"So are you into any sports?"

"No, not really."

"Me neither.  How about music?  Who's your favorite bands?"

I listed out every type of music and musician I liked.  He loved ninety-percent of what I liked.  He kept getting more and more points.  He had no problem getting to one hundred points and beyond.

"Excuse me, but I've have to... Powder my nose."  I went to the lavatory.  I was standing face to the wall when I heard the door open.  Russell stood next to me.  There were no privacy panels so I hoped that he didn't see that I was getting turned on.

"Looks like someone's excited," he said.
Oh god, that smile.  I couldn't help but get even more turned on.  I finished and washed my hand and went back to the table. I had a smile that wouldn't stop.  Russell returned to the table.

"I think we should go back to your place."

I didn't argue.

We were together the rest of the night, the next morning, and well into Sunday afternoon. He finally had to go home and get ready for the work week. I had business to take care of, not much since it was a slow time for travel.

We saw each other every night that week.  Friday night, we met for dinner.

"How about tomorrow we go pitch a tent and hang out for the day?  We'll come back Sunday."

"I love the idea."

"I'll pick you up in the morning. About ten?"

"Are you coming over tonight?"  I already guessed the answer was no, but I didn't mind. It was just one night.

"No, I can't.  I have to finish up one small project and I'll get my camping gear packed.  How about you get the snacks?  Whatever you want.  Get your favorites."

The  next morning, Russell picked me up in his jeep. We drove out of the city and up into the hills.  I had never been this way and it was a beautiful day and I could see the Bay, the Golden Gate Bridge, and the smell the ocean.  He drove about an hour before he declared "We're here." We finally parked.

"Let's hike this way."  Russell pointed up a path. We went right out to a cliff that overlooked the San Francisco Bay.  I started to say "What an awesome view", but before I could, Russell grabbed me and wrapped his arms around me and kissed me.  Oh god, he was perfect.  His kisses were perfection.  Everything about him was perfect.

"Let's set up camp."

"We are really out here, aren't we?"

"I love it.  I can crawl out of the tent in the morning and don't have to worry about clothes."

I giggled. "Ah, a nudist."

Russell didn't say anything. He only winked.
I said "This is going to be interesting."

"Just think.  I'll be able to do you right here against this tree... and this tree... and that tree... and that one over there... and no one will see us."  He added "Hopefully" to be cautious.  Wow.  The thought of having wild passionate sex in the woods with the man of my dreams was unbelievably hot.

"Just think.  You can moan and groan and pant and scream all you want." Russell laughed.  "No one's going to hear us doing it."

"Hot." That was all I could say.  "Hot."  He was mine.  All mine.  I had found my perfect man.  All my waiting and patience had paid off.  All those other guys who weren't perfect were now in my past.  I was in love with the perfect man.

*****

Monday morning came around.  The door bell rang.  Russell answered it.  On the front step stood a man in a suit.

"Russell P. Williamson?"

"Yes."

"I'm Sergeant Conrad.  I have a warrant for your arrest."

Russell glanced at the policemen on the sidewalk then dashed towards the kitchen to the back door where two policemen stood with guns pointed at him.  Russell put his hands up.  Sergeant Conrad and the other policemen came into the kitchen.

"Russell P. Williamson, a.k.a. William P. Pearson, a.k.a. Peter P. Bryant, and P. Lars Straus.  You're under the arrest for the murders of seven gay men in the past six months."

"You can't pin any of them on me."

"Like hell we can't. We've been tracking you for the past six months since the second murder.  We have witnesses and a lot of evidence.  You've become known as "The Gay Strangler" in the FBI office. Read him his rights. And by the way, we'd like to talk to Craig.  Any idea where we can reach him? Since you were seen with him the other night."

"I've never meet Craig Samuels."

"Really.  I don't believe I mentioned his last name.  Any idea where we can find him?"

"No."

The policemen handcuffed him. Russell gritted his teeth.

"By the way, what does the 'P' stand for?"

Russell grinned.  "Perfection.  It's Perfection.  I am perfection."
Sargent Conrad chuckled.  "Sir, there is no such thing as perfection."

CSM

Wow! That Long!

Check out the date on that last post!  June 9th!  It's September 14th.  I can't believe it's been that long since I last posted.  Well, dear readers, it's not because I'm twiddling my thumbs. I've been working on a new book, two short stories, researching agents, and working on a certain part of my life.

Let me tell you about my new book.  It has nothing to do with The Time Savers Club. It is not a children's book.  It is about two people having an affair for the last thirty or so years.

Bea and Adam fell in love in college and parted ways and broke each other's hearts.  Bea went her way and Adam his.  A few years later, they met by accident and the flames re-ignite.  Their story goes from there. Bea is married to "The Ass" (as she likes to call him) and has three children.  Adam is a widow and has a daughter.  I have based them on a variety of people I know (or have known) and loved...  And yes, even hated.  There's some hell and some heaven. It is a little autobiographical. Some parts are hard to write.  But I can do it!

Anyway, we'll see how it goes.  I've got several chapters written, some outlined, and, yep, there's a few blank ones.  I have no idea what to to with those.  I'm sure sometime in the middle of night... or in the shower which happens a lot... that they'll start talking to me and away we'll go.

As for the two short stories, they are both gay-focused.  I really try not to throw my preferences out there, but these two short stories really reflect my thoughts and ideas about what it means to me.  I have completed one; the other's on its way. It's longer and will take a while.

One last thing.  Rejection.  I am coming to terms with my overwhelming fear of rejection. I mean the BIG FEAR of rejection.  In fact, it keeps me from going after what I want (or think that I want... well as least interested enough in to find out if it's what I really want... It's complicated.)

I have a list of agents for The Time Savers Club but have yet to email them.  I've been going out more and I'll see someone I think is really cute or interesting or whatever, but do I say "Hey" or "How's it going?"  Nope.  I just stand there. Horribly tongue-tied.  A big bundle of fear of rejection!  I think "Why bother? It's just going to be...  Well, yet another rejection."  So, I just move on.

*Sigh*  I'm working on it.

Thanks for reading.  Hugs to all.

CSM

A View of the Town, Episode 9: Rosco and Swanky Jane

Welcome to A View of the Town, the adventures of Dr. Willis Fletcher in a small coastal town in Maine. Offering tidbits of local color and the lay of the land, we now return to Dr. Fletcher and the love story of Rosco and Swanky Jane.

This episode is brought to you by... Water. It runs but never wears shoes. It pools but never wears swim trunks. Water. It's wet.

And now on with the love story of Rosco and Swanky Jane...

As you may recall from previous episodes, I mentioned Louisville Sam, a spinner of tall tales who, by the way, lived in a two-room house just a little ways north of the docks.  You could often see him sitting outside, drinking a strong brew of coffee black as night, and watching the fishing boats go out and come in with their catch of the day.  Louisville Sam found odd jobs to do around town to pay the rent.  And to anyone who would listen, he'd tell of many of his adventures which took him around the world.

Now one story I remember involved a sly gentleman named Rosco, a self-proclaimed gambler from Atlanta, and his gal Swanky Jane with the amaryllis tattoo who sang and entertained on the Jennie Beth, a riverboat that traveled down the Ohio from Cincinnati to Louisville.

As I recall the story, back around 1892, one evening while the river boat was docked, Louisville Sam and Rosco were playing a game of blackjack with a fellow from New York City. I'm not sure how this trio came about, but this New York City poker player was a true dandy. Dressed like one with his silk shirt and fancy red ascot. Smelled like one with his scent of bay rum. And he also had his shifty eye on Swanky Jane. And everyone knew her heart belonged to Rosco.  And anyone who tried to tango with her knew better.

After Rosco had just triumphed at a hand of blackjack, Swanky Jane came over to visit after performing and savoring the applause.  This unsuspecting (and uncaring) city slicker complimented her tattoo, asked what kind it was, and proceeded to woo her while rolling his smoldering cigar between his teeth.  However, Swanky Jane didn't want anything to do with him. And Rosco wasn't too pleased with his level of advances either and let his jealous streak get the most of him.

Next thing they all knew, Rosco had punched that fellow from New York City, sending him flying across the floor. The city fellow didn't just lie there, he proceeded to take aim at Rosco, right into Rosco's fist that is.  Only this time that New York Yankee fell into a table of four hands.  From there, a full blow bar room brawl of two blossomed to full swing.  That New York dandy got right back up, not knowing when to walk away.

Most in the room were familiar with Rosco's fighting style.  Little did that New York gent know, but Rosco had studied a fighting technique know as judo, as a young man living in San Francisco, from a judo master. Rosco took several steps back, stood perfectly erect, gently bowed, and flew foot first square in that gent's chest.  The fellow flew backwards and slid against the wall.

Swanky Jane never moved from where she perched on a nearby table.  The cigar that fellow had been smoking rolled right to her foot.  She picked it up, started to smoke it, and laughed.  She winked her eye at Rosco who simply grinned. He knew that night she'd be paying him a visit.  What a pair.

I've many other storied about that pair and from Louisville Sam, but I'll save some for later.  That Louisville Sam was a walking book of wonderment and mystery.

Join us again next time, when Dr. Fletcher tells us about the night that Amaryllis Stemm payed Misty Cove a visit that they would never forget.

This episode was brought to you by... Water. It rolls in.  It rolls out.  But it never rolls up and never rolls down.  Water.  It just goes with the flow.

CSM