Archive for Writing

Dystopia Issue # 2

Posted in Creative Writing, Friends and Family, Reflections with tags on May 31, 2016 by Verge

Back in the early 90’s, the Internet wasn’t really a “thing” so much.  It still sucked.  Not as bad as the Prodigy days, or the simple BBS days, when there weren’t any GUIs, but just a bunch of people tinkering around and even flirting.  But, you know, no youtube, no facebook, no wordpress.

Back then, I started something called a fanzine.  I mentioned this to Chelsea the other day at work, who is 25, and she had no idea what the hell I was talking about.  But Mike, who IS my age, spun around in his seat and was like, “that’s cool, I remember those, what was your’s called?”  My answer…”Dystopia”.”

So for all the people that are older or younger than me by 15 years or so, a fanzine is basically an analog blog.  It’s not made out of technology.  It’s made out of paper.  It can be about anything, but most of them were about bands.  Maybe an entire genre.  Or maybe a sub culture, like skating, or art, or writing, or punk, or goth, or raves.

In High School, I was in a after school club that focused on creative writing.  And, we did publish that stuff a few times a year, but it was kind of limited.  My writing and English teachers at school were wonderful people.  They were the reasons that every elective I could take for three years,  I took extra English courses.  And then I gave up my study hall to take even more English courses.  I took so many extra electives that I could have graduated in 3 years except that the state wouldn’t allow it.

The writing club was cool, but I wanted to be in charge, so I started my own fanzine.  I asked all the people I was friends with who were artists, or poets, or writers, to share what they had been working on and promised to put it all in my fanzine.  At one point, I had a rival fanzine in the school that was called “Bite Mari,” which was published by these two younger girls, Elysa and Jenn, and even though we were my competition, their’s was pretty bad ass and hilarious.  So I went on to date Elysa, the publisher, for 6 years or so.

My parents have just retired, and are selling their house in New Jersey and moving to Florida.  We’ve been helping clear out the house because it’s already been sold and everything either needs to go to Florida or the kids or in the trash.  I’m not sure exactly how my mother hid so much shit in that house, because it always looked amazing clean and organized, but they hoarded a ton of stuff.  It kind of scares me that that gene is in me somewhere.

So, they’ve been going through the piles of memories, and sorting them into boxes for each of us kids.  Mine contained a copy of Issue number #2 of “Dystopia.”  So, for what it’s worth (which is apparently $1), I give you the now, newly improved, totally digital, Blog version of Dystopia.  Thanks to all the people that helped me and had fun with me back in High School.  We always made it interesting somehow, and there was only so much cough medicine us kids could drink together to amuse ourselves.  Cheers!

covercover insidepage 1page 2page 3page 4page 5page 6page 7page 8page 9page 10page 11page 12page 13page 14page 15back cover

If and when I find the other issues of my fanzine, I’ll post them here as well.  I know I have them all, buried in my attic somewhere, to discover when I start to sort through my old memories.

Black Ice

Posted in Creative Writing, Reflections with tags on January 22, 2015 by Verge

It was supposed to be routine by the twentieth week

But I stayed late to help a friend who had to be up all night

and didn’t leave until the mist had frozen solid

on the asphalt and highways that pave my way home.

And as I nearly took a fall on the way to my car,

I realized it would be a tough ride on me tonight.

I tried my best to drive slowly, and made some bad moves;

In retrospect I had driven far too fast.

I was lucky to get the chances to recover

and tried to keep my eyes open and on the road.

Sometimes it takes much longer than you want

to get to the places you desire

but if you don’t pay attention to invisible ice

you may never arrive.

 

Ronnie Mund – Howard Stern’s Birthday Poem – “61 Years”

Posted in Creative Writing with tags on January 15, 2015 by Verge

Here we go again…this is the trasncription from the January 12th, 2015 broadcast of the Howard Stern Show, when Ronnie Mund delivers a stunning rendition of his newest poem.  This is the raw material that I will attempt to re-write into something that has a little class, and a lot less words that rhyme.  

It was January 12th in the 1950s
In a time when music and radio were kinda nifty
At this time a stork delivered a boy named Stern
Whose name would change radio and make it diffy.
As the years went by his words would be heard by many radio bosses
Who would think his manner was iffy
Along came the FCC and would turn his life into turmoil in a jiffy
Alas!  A satellite in the sky would make a venue
where Stern could say…“I got a stiffy!”
Today, 61 years later, the nifty, diffy, iffy, jiffy, stiffy  Stern
Can say to them all…”Fuck off, look what I’ve done,
look what I’ve earned!”
Happy Birthday, Du!

All Apologies (eh, it was late)

Posted in Creative Writing, Friends and Family, Reflections with tags on January 6, 2015 by Verge

what if the world were ending

in flames and fire and wrath,

could we ever come to forgive one another…

would we still be enemies in death?

they tell you there’s too much to live for

when you’re drowning under water

and then tell others there’s dignity in death

when a cause or war is what you’ve died for.

and families split, and friends are betrayed

in the worst of times that haunt us

and apologies are often not

enough to help to heal us.

but what if the world and all of us

were coming to the end,

would we find it in our souls

to just let old wounds mend?

Lost

Posted in Creative Writing with tags on December 27, 2014 by Verge

A very close friend once told me

as I stood upon a ladder to replace a fixture

that when, inevitably, I dropped a screw that I would later desire,

I should keep my eyes towards the floor, and not the ceiling.

I could always find what I had mistakenly let go,

and the ceiling would still be there above me.

But if I kept my eyes trained upwards to keep my balance,

I might never find again what I had let fall away.

The Night before Christmas

Posted in Creative Writing, Friends and Family with tags , , on December 24, 2014 by Verge

Tonight my parents come to visit.

We serve dinner and they bring gifts.

Afterwards, my wife hears stories from the source

that shed light on why I am the man I am.

My earliest memories are of passion…

anger and love the same.

They impressed me for a lifetime.

We’ve set up our tree for eight years in a row.

My in-laws just one time.

And as crooked as it may be,

it’s still the warmest thing to me.

Another Winter

Posted in Creative Writing with tags on December 11, 2014 by Verge

I guess I’ll count today as the year’s first snowfall.

It lasted much longer than predicted.

It’s not as cold as I’d expected outside, even with the light wind,

but I’ve got thicker skin now.

Tonight, as I drove home through the approaching nightfall

a young man walked through the path of my car.

He never once turned around to see behind him.

I swerved left, and he right, and I saw the headphones in his ears as I passed.

Looking back, his head was down, engulfed in himself.

I wonder if we’ll ever keep our eyes on the road ahead .

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